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tsukimefuku · 8 months ago

Text

the event (1) ❖ nanami kento

this part → part 2 (soon) | mdni! | the nile is a river in egypt 👍

summary: after struggling for so long with the feelings you had for nanami, your colleague and closest friend, you finally decide to put an end to your misery and confess to him. little did you know there was no misery left for you to wallow in that night — none at all. alternatively: nanami was a gentleman, but holy hell, given the context, there weren't many ways he could misunderstand the phrase "I want you".

tags: jujutsu kaisen, sorcerer!f!reader, colleagues in the field, 18+, alcohol, explicit! smut (oral f!receiving, piv, squirting), 1/3 plot 2/3 filth ratio, it’s romance guys, nanami x reader, reader is emotionally stunted, they're clearly in love, angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, basically a book chapter, no beta my inner demons proofread this.

wc: 8k

notes, etc.: if i have to rewrite this one more time i will commit a felony. inspo → just like you do (carly simon) and sonnet (the verve). saved by smooth operator (sade). the bit "love is something brave people do" is inspired by fleabag's last episode. appetizers for this fic are the shorties “would you let me die?” and “where does your mind drift”.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist

this is big but very worth it, i promise.

Today, you were determined to finally utter those three words and put an end to your own personal brand of misery.

Ever since you and Nanami kind of discussed if getting involved would be a bad idea — he said it would, but you had your doubts — you just couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew you had feelings for him. Maybe. He mentioned that he believed you thought about him.

But the thing was… nothing was actually said. It was all implied. Implied into oblivion.

You two had been working together for a good while now, and you didn't fail to notice that, in the most recent encounters you've had, be it on missions or just having a drink at your favorite bar, your heart would involuntarily throb whenever you gazed at him for too long.

Not only that, but you were finally able to admit to yourself that your gratitude towards the sorcerer, who saved your life years ago, had become love. You were, without a shred of a doubt, in love with him, and the fact that he clearly stated that getting involved would be ill-advised — his words, not yours — was a special type of torture.

So be it — you were confessing your feelings for him today, at least to have a definitive answer. It would be better to get shot down than keep doing this little tip-toe dance around the unsaid. You just couldn't do this anymore.

Thing was… You were terrible with feelings. And words. And putting feelings into words. And also just feeling your feelings, in general.

So you decided to invite him to a bar — like you always did —, and chat the night away — again, like you always did — to try easing yourself into this conversation in a comfortable, known setting. Your drinks were downed until the middle of the night like you were filling up a Jeep tank, trying to fuel yourself with liquor-bought courage.

Eventually you slowed down, because certainly throwing up would be less than ideal. Better to be sober and chicken out than drunk and vomiting.

You were so in your own head, though, that you failed to realize Nanami was accompanying you in the "getting completely hammered" department until about a few hours prior, partially regaining his sobriety, with a lot of things swirling around in his own mind.

Mostly, he still thought about the non-conversation you both had about thinking of each other. More specifically, the fact that you inquired, right at the end, if it would really be such a bad idea.

Would it?

Could he dare to dream of a life beyond killing curses and hoping not to die every time he stepped his foot into a mission?

He wasn't sure about it anymore, and could feel his usual negative stance about getting romantically involved with someone while still being a jujutsu sorcerer wavering — an absolute first for him. He was hardly someone to be swayed on his stances in life.

But this time, just maybe, you were able to do that without even realizing.

He caught himself gazing at you more frequently than usual, and wondering what would be the texture of your flower-scented hair tangled in between his fingers.

Today, your hair smelled like jasmine flowers.

Unlike you, however, Nanami was unsure if he'd touch upon the subject that night, specifically, in case he ever decided to do so. He’d prefer to talk about it in an appropriate setting — dinner at a restaurant, maybe? No, you weren't someone who'd like that. Perhaps at a picnic, she does enjoy nature...

He tried shaking those thoughts away along with his feelings, but it didn’t work.

The conversation was very pleasant, and you two were reminiscing about his mission at your hometown where you both met years ago.

”Do you remember when I tried cooking breakfast? Oh, that was a good one,” you jested, chuckling.

Nanami nodded, resting the edge of his whiskey cup on his bottom lip.

“I’d say that was a terrible one. You nearly set your entire kitchen on fire trying to fry eggs,” he noted, letting a smile take over his lips.

You laughed in response.

”Yeah, you’re probably right. But at least you rescued me and made one of the best tamagoyaki I’ve ever eaten.”

He put his glass down on the counter, looking at you with those adoring, beautiful, brown honeyed eyes.

"One of?"

You chuckled, trying not to stare too much.

Good God, he's looking gorgeous tonight.

“Oh, come on. According to you, I can barely taste my food the way I eat, mixing everything up in my plate,” you joked, “I don’t have the same particular taste buds of yours.”

Nanami sighed, rolling his eyes at your teasing, taking a sip of his whiskey.

The ice had melted a little, and he felt the watery coat on the drink with displeasure, grimacing a little.

Somehow, Nanami failed to see the irony in that.

You noticed, and laughed a little before continuing.

"The other amazing tamagoyaki I had was when you rescued me from starving during my first week here. But I don't think I'd really regret burning Jujutsu High down, even if it was an accident."

Nanami shook his head lightly, the smile still on his face betraying his half-hearted chide.

Then, after the banter evaporated in the air, that moment finally came.

The absolute silence.

Arguably the perfect opportunity to say these types of things… So you began.

"Nanami, I…" words gagged. "I wanted to tell you something."

His body visibly tensed up a little, but he probably didn't realize it.

He knew, of course.

Nanami noticed all the recent instances you'd stare at him, and ever since pulling you in for a not-so innocent hug when you were both stranded on the road after a mission together, he felt dangerously close to crossing this boundary.

Nanami's words were easily controlled, always so neatly put together with mathematical precision to express his thoughts. However, ever since he crossed the line of physical contact beyond pure platonic affection, it had been difficult keeping his hands to himself.

Right now, he wanted to cup your face with his palms and brush his thumbs against your cheeks.

Perhaps even press his lips against you- stop that, you’re not a teenager anymore.

This comfort zone of avoiding the discussion about the feelings you both had for each other was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"What?"

You gulped, and took a few more sips of beer.

"I…"

Your voice got stuck in your throat.

Your syllable had stretched long enough for this to have become a little awkward.

"I wanted to thank you," you blurted out, more for your benefit than his.

Nanami was equal parts relieved, disappointed, and surprised.

Did he actually want you to tell him you had feelings for him?

"Thanks for welcoming me to Jujutsu High, for shepherding me all this time, and for being a reliable, good friend. I was ready to face hell here, but it was… much better than I had anticipated. So, thank you, Nanami."

He looked at you, and both held each other's gaze for a moment. His hazel brown eyes were always something that lured you in, and you surely enjoyed how he'd always remove his green shades to talk to you.

Seeing them felt strangely — and endearingly — intimate.

"You're welcome," he offered in a kind note.

"Last call!" the bartender stated loudly, as you and Nanami looked at each other, feeling somewhat disappointed that the night was about to be over.

Stepping outside after paying, you both realized it was raining — something neither had noticed from inside the bar.

With half a mind to do something, definitely inebriated, and still with a declaration stuck in your throat, you absentmindedly made a question to Nanami.

"Can I wait the rain out at your place?"

He did live close by, in any case.

For a second, you realized you were probably butting in his rest hours, and felt a little embarrassed.

"Yes," he replied immediately, also absentmindedly, before you could retreat your request.

***

It was actually the first time you ever visited his apartment, and it was interesting to see his place. To no one's surprise, Nanami's pristine apartment, with his collections of books and CD's — he still had an actual stereo CD player — felt as every bit put together as Nanami himself did.

His kitchen drawers alone were surely more organized than your income tax return.

You sat on the counter and had your drenched hair haphazardly covered with a blue towel as Nanami fixed something to eat for the both of you.

The smell of cooked rice and eggs filled the air, hugging your senses, as you watched, still halfway drunk, how he skillfully walked back and forth, being somewhat inebriated himself, making way more than instant noodles, your first choice after proposing you both ate something to ease the alcohol out.

You stared at his back while he cooked, trying to push the thought of telling him how you felt to the back of your mind, at least for a while, just so you could enjoy the following moments without the sensation of impending doom.

As he finished plating the food, you were nothing short of impressed — the man mustered up the skill to cook omurice while inebriated, a feat you couldn't do sober even in one of your best days.

"This is incredible, you're such a badass," you remarked as Nanami gave you a plate with a pair of chopsticks.

"It's a simple recipe," he replied, getting his own and taking a bite out of it as he leaned against the sink counter, facing you.

"Oh, it surely is,” you remarked, ironically.

You were getting ready to eat as Nanami interrupted you.

"Don't desecrate it," he chided, referencing the way you'd usually stir up your food on your plate until it became an unidentifiable goo before eating, "try to taste your food at least this once."

You chuckled a little, acquiescing.

"Okay. This is too beautiful to get vandalized, anyway."

Nanami huffed, the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips, before he took another bite.

"I am so going to regret this entire thing tomorrow," you stated, taking the first piece out of your plate, “I drank like a sailor.”

It was absolutely delicious, of course. It was Nanami's food, after all.

He swallowed before proceeding.

"Me too, most likely. I hadn't drunk this heavily since… ever."

"Hah, me neither."

You both resumed eating peacefully, partaking in a comfortable and cozy silence for the next few minutes. During that time, he looked at you without you noticing, and realized just how much he wanted this small sliver of peace — sharing a good meal with you in his kitchen after a remarkably pleasant night — to keep going for eternity.

You were looking so adorable with his blue towel over your drenched hair.

As you were finished, he took both plates and put them inside the sink, going back to his original position. Nanami had already removed his tie, his weapon holster and opened the top of his blue buttoned shirt by this point, both of his sleeves rolled up for him to cook.

It was becoming increasingly hard not to stare.

"Thank you, Nanami," you said, smiling at him.

"It's no trouble," he answered, softly smiling back at you.

His smile was much sweeter than usual, and it sent your heart throbbing against your chest.

The urge came again, to finally tell him.

However, when you actually spoke, something entirely unexpected came out of your mouth.

"Why did you come back to Jujutsu High after years of working a regular job?"

Nanami was surprised, to say the least, and pondered for a while before resuming his answer.

He had left the jujutsu world shortly after the mission where he met you and ‘failed you’ — that last part solely according to him — so, needless to say, this was a sensitive topic.

"Well, I had known the jujutsu world, and after entering the corporate one, I realized both were idiotic. So-"

"No, not that speech," you interjected, "I want to know exactly what happened for you to come back. I mean, when we ran into each other years ago, you seemed pretty resolute in trying your retired-by-40 and moving to Malaysia plan, and from what I gathered, not long after that, you just came back, out of nowhere."

Nanami was silent, because he remembered vividly what had transpired, and that you had something to do with it.

"Well," he began, "a few days after we had that conversation, I went into a bakery to buy breakfast. It was always the same person at the cash register, and she had a small fly head curse on her shoulders for a while. It began affecting her sleep, given her complaints. I had avoided doing something about it, but our conversation kept ringing in my head."

Nanami averted his gaze, as if remembering the moment in its details before proceeding.

"After I exorcised it, her shoulder pain subsided, and she thanked me. That was it."

You remembered well how you chided him, telling Nanami to go back into sorcery because the world of jujutsu needed people who truly cared, such as himself. You just didn’t think it would have such a direct connection to the reasons he came back.

"So... you realized the importance of the job we do?" you inquired, with a half-smile pulled on your cheek.

He sighed. "Something like that."

"Oh, Mr. Nanami 'I'm just doing my job' Kento... you have finally understood that meaning is something relevant to you, it seems," you remarked, light-spirited.

He smiled, looking the other way, somewhat appreciating the fact that he had just been read like a book by you.

"But... don't say I had something to do with you coming back," you stated, "I might feel responsible if something happens to you."

Even as a joke, this snapped at your heart a little. The mere thought of losing him felt terrifying.

Nanami sighed, smile vanishing, looking back at you.

"You always see things from a perspective of assigning responsibility and guilt... It is a perspective that usually warrants unnecessary suffering."

You scoffed, still wearing your mid-smirk on your face.

"Oh, and looking at everything from a protective perspective is any different? I mean, both boil down to us thinking we're responsible for other people's fates."

He was slightly taken aback, before smiling discreetly and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I guess you're right."

Nanami looked at you, and seemed to be staring at your cheek. Under the dim light from the stove hood, you could make out the contours of his face — his sharp jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, and his now exposed forearms with taut, sculpted muscles, right under the rolled up sleeves of his blue shirt.

If pupil dilation could be felt, you would have definitely felt it at that moment.

The urge came up again, but by this point, you were already feeling defeated enough at your pathetic inability of confessing your feelings, so you just let your mouth roll with whatever came out of it.

"I really admire you, Nanami."

You surprised even yourself.

His eyes then met yours.

"Do you?"

Pondering on your words, you nodded, thinking a little about it.

"You're such a calm, collected and responsible person. You seem to always know exactly what you're doing, meanwhile I'm usually just guessing around. No wonder Ino and Yuuji look up to you."

Even under the soft lighting, you could swear you saw Nanami's face blush a little.

"Thank you," he stated, bowing his head slightly towards your direction.

You smiled at him and sighed right after.

"Most times, I don't think I'm someone people would call admirable or actually look up to."

This was something you hadn't anticipated you'd say. You had never told that to anyone.

But, well, this was him. This was Nanami.

"Why do you say that?" he inquired in earnest.

"Because... Because I'm often hanging by a thread, just trying to survive. I'm not doing great things. I'm barely existing, sometimes."

He mulled his thoughts over for a second before answering you.

"You have a good capacity for adapting, taking whatever life hands you and doing the best you can with it," he noted, "and you keep going even if you feel like you're guessing. Even when you don't know where you're going. That takes bravery, and I find it to be admirable."

Now you were the one surprised, and you could feel your entire face burning the moment he finished uttering those words. You were never one to take compliments easily, but this was a whole other level.

You stood there, mouth slightly agape, faltering without any words.

His eyes had returned to your cheek, and in a swift movement, you heard him say excuse me as he stepped into your direction, rubbing his thumb on it to take off some food you hadn't realized that was still stuck on your face.

Nanami barely registered that the thoughts looping around his mind the entire night about touching you had finally taken the best of him.

Before he could remove his hand, though, you held it in place, lifting your eyes to meet him.

His palm felt warm against your skin, his digits rough, and perfect. Just like he was.

Nanami's expression was unreadable as he gazed back at you, and you began hearing your heartbeats against your ears, muffling the sound of the tapping rain on the window.

Words failed him too, and he was guided by his body once again.

Nanami lowered his face and softly pressed his lips over yours, still tasting like whiskey and Demi-glace, which sent waves — that you couldn't quite discern if were hot or cold, perhaps both — all throughout your body.

It was a quick kiss, though, because shortly after, Nanami backed out, still with his eyes closed, and had something resembling a frown on his face.

"I apologize, that was inappropriate," he mumbled, beginning to pull his hand out from your cheek. You, however, held it in place, and that got him to open his eyes and look at you.

He seemed taken by trepidation under his usual collected demeanor, and his lower lip had the slightest twitch to it as his eyes flickered quickly between your mouth and your eyes.

For a moment, you felt like you were looking into the eyes of the Nanami you once knew — the bangs, the uniform, the seventeen-year-old version of him.

Little did you know that your corresponding younger version was looking right back at him with the same bated breath, just like the teens-becoming-adults in the most traumatic ways you two once were.

"Stop apologizing and kiss me," you pleaded, edging your face closer to his, pulling his towel off your head.

You could feel his breath exhaling against your skin, as Nanami approached his body to yours, putting himself in between your knees, and cupped your face in his hands. His body was incredibly warm, just like his hand, and his woody, musky scent sent your senses spiraling when he finally descended his lips to yours, determined on taking his time — after all, this was a kiss ten years in the making.

His mouth felt velvety and supple, and you both melted into each other while exploring the way his head tilted against yours, how your nails would eventually find their way up the nape of his neck, how your breath would hitch every time he pressed his mouth against yours more intently. Your lips slid wetly over each other with a newfound ease none of you expected.

You were both dipping your toes in the ocean and testing the temperature before committing to dive into deeper waters, taking all the time into familiarizing with the feeling of each other's bodies.

Nanami's hands descended to your waist, leaving a trail of heat on the way, and you let out a soft moan into his mouth when he pressed them against you. He groaned lowly, a sound reverberating from the depths of his chest, as he parted his lips from yours and put some distance in between your faces with his eyes closed.

You didn't understand, but before you could ask anything, he began speaking.

"I don't mean to assume," he stated, letting his forehead rest on yours.

"Hm... What do you mean?"

"I... What I mean is we can stop, in case you don’t... We're both still somewhat under the influence. You are," Nanami replied, opening his eyes to look into yours. The faltering restraint dwelling in them was palpable.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if there was any way of loving him more than you already did. Even now, he was so mindful and careful with you.

"I want this," you replied, resolute, "I want you. I've wanted it all for a very long time. It's not a drunken decision, I mean it."

His gaze softened in a way you had never seen before, one of his hands ascending to brush his thumb over your cheek. Nanami snuggled his nose against yours and sighed, seemingly fluttering.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I want you," you repeated, incisively.

He let out a huff of air against your mouth, and you could smell his breath, mingled with the scent emanating from him and his clothes. Intoxicating wasn't a strong enough word — you were completely enthralled, entranced and overwhelmed by him. Every sound got muted, but the sound of his breathing. Every smell disappeared, but his. And there was no other temperature in the room other than the warmth of his body.

You had entered tunnel vision mode, and at the end of it, he was your light.

Closing the remaining inches that separated the both of you, he brushed his lips against yours, whispering, "then have me. Have all of me."

Still cupping the side of your face, Nanami tilted it, finally fitting your lips against his again, like lovely little puzzle pieces getting more and more accustomed to each other by the second. He felt around your contours, pressing the tip of his tongue softly over the seam of your mouth, and you warmly welcomed him in, his true taste lingering just under the drinks and sauces being enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

He was salty, fresh, and a breeze of cool air by the seashore.

There were a few times you wondered what he'd be like, but your fantasies were quick to pale in comparison to the reality of him.

Nanami’s broken restraint was completely done for, and just this once, he wanted to let it come tumbling down like a house of cards, as he parted to gaze at your disheveled hair, your flustered face, your slightly puffy lips.

His chest swelled full and content at that sight.

He met you once again, and the ruffling from the fall was sounding better than he could have ever hoped for, insistent heart beat pushing against his ears, encompassing your breathless kissing like a sonnet.

Nanami's hands, however, didn't dare explore beyond your waist, and all this intense make out session was starting to make your panties feel uncomfortable against your pooling arousal. You were starting to feel antsy, and your body was nearly twitching at the aching desire. You needed some kind of relief, or you'd go insane.

Nanami was a gentleman, but holy hell, given the context, there weren't many ways he could misunderstand the phrase I want you.

You put your hands over his and slip them down to cup your ass, parting from his lips for a moment.

"Stop keeping your hands to yourself. Touch me," you pleaded, with some type of simmering desperation to your voice that you hadn't yet heard — never, actually.

He looked at you, and seemed equally desperate in an unfathomable way. He pulled you in, kneading his fingers fiercely against your skin while moaning into your mouth, and pressed your bodies hard enough for you to feel him pulsating through multiple layers of fabric.

Oh, my.

You knew he was strong, but this was something else.

Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, and drew the tips of your fingernails down his back, while grinding over his growing erection with your clothed core. Nanami let out a muffled groan on your skin and began kissing your neck intently with messy, open-mouthed kisses.

He put his hands under your thighs and whispered in your ear, "hold on to me."

That caught your attention from your hazy brain.

"I... My hair is still wet. My clothes are a little damp, too. I'm kind of a mess right now," you told him, chuckling sheepishly.

This man's apartment was the most immaculate place you had ever been in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was to dirty it around with dripping water from the rain. In his bed, of all places.

Nanami immediately pulled himself back and held your face, locking eyes with you.

"You are beautiful right now," he remarked, not giving you enough time for an answer, as he pressed another kiss on your lips — this time, more urgent, a little sloppy, but just as passionate, if not more. You gasped into his mouth, letting your body take control.

In an instant, your arms were draped over his shoulders, your legs tightened firmly around his body, and his strong hands held the back of your thighs, as Nanami lifted you from that counter like you weighed nothing.

You squeaked in surprise, and he uttered a soft, deep chuckle before planting a quick peck on your lips.

After walking you both into his room, he calmly descended towards the mattress, laying you down delicately and climbing his way on top of you.

When he approached his face to yours, you smiled at him, and he smiled back, sharing a tender moment of silent closeness.

This was probably your favorite shared quietude yet.

“I should get out of these wet clothes,” you stated, giggling softly, before tugging your shirt over your head.

He huffed a soft smiling hum in return, as his palms found their way towards the sides of your hips. Their warmth clashed a stark contrast against your still dampened, cold skin, and his touch was electric, making you involuntarily sigh.

"Help me take these pants off," you cooed, relaxing your legs around his body.

Nanami didn’t need to be told twice, and swiftly slid his hands down to unzip you and pull your damp pants off while you unclasped your bra.

After he was done, his eyes lingered over the drenched patch on your underwear, a realization that definitely riled him up, as his breath got caught midway out his nostrils for a second.

Nanami’s fingers swirled around your bra straps, but before he removed it, you began unbuttoning his shirt, finishing off unclenching his belt and unzipping his pants.

"It would be unfair for me to be the only one exposed here," you remarked, light spirited, while smiling tenderly at him.

He smiled back very much the same way, and pulled his shirt off, downing his pants, letting it all become a wrinkled puddle on the floor. Nanami caged you in between his arms, and pressed a quick kiss on your lips, asking, "do you ever stop?"

"Why don't you try to find out?" you slyly replied.

Nanami wasn't usually one to appreciate being teased. This was especially true when it came to Gojo annoying the hell out of him, and he could — and would — also get annoyed at your snarky teasing from time to time.

But it felt different with you. He wasn't nearly as irritated as he would've been with anybody else.

Perhaps because you teased him with love.

Your hands pulled your bra off and tossed it aside, and for some seconds, he was speechless, contouring his eyes all over your body. With butterflies on his chest, he finally cupped your face in his hands again before kissing you once more, and you couldn’t help but notice he really liked holding you like that when he kissed you — and you'd let him, every time he wanted to.

It was lovely to be held so preciously under such an adoring touch.

Letting go of your lips, Nanami began planting kisses under your jaw, descending towards your neck, and nesting his face in between your breasts, inhaling your scent with his face laid over your skin. With your encouraging hand tangling in his hair, he began kissing and licking his way around, kneading on your breasts with his palms. Your hips instantly bucked up against him, at the same time you let out a needy moan.

He noticed it, very pleased, and gave you the tiny mercy of removing your panties.

Still with his mouth plastered on your skin, Nanami descended one hand towards your folds, and groaned the second his fingers touched over your wetness, cock twitching inside his underwear.

You were drenched.

He sounded so satisfied, you couldn’t help but blush a little in between your moans and mewls, wanting to brat out just a little.

“Hah-- I did say- a-ah… that I wanted you,” you half jested, trying to fend off your fleeting embarrassment, “w-what did you… hah-- expect?”

He stopped briefly, and lifted his face to look at you, sighing with his classic I could be eye rolling at you right now expression.

You smiled mischievously, fully aware he noticed the teasing.

Nanami brushed his fingers above your clit softly, not breaking eye contact, and you thrust your hips up again, mewling mindlessly. Huffing, you tried saying something, but he pressed his fingers a little more intently, having your words turn into incoherent moaning tumbling down past your lips.

At that moment, you just knew…

You stood defeated.

“Finally, you relentless little devil,” he mumbled, kissing his way down your body, as you huffed a few chuckles in between your pleasured sounds.

If he was so hellbent on shutting down your antics like that, you’d probably try to keep them going all night long. Perhaps you could even break his composure completely.

The idea was enticing.

However, he was the one about to break you apart completely, as you realized when his wet, hot tongue got seared-flat against your clit, and stroked on your glistened folds with the ravenous dedication of a starving man.

Nanami was delighted to have finally shut down your quick-wit tease mouth completely, especially like this.

In the back of his mind, he realized he’d gladly do it every time you got on his nerves.

Being a pretty tactile person, with heightened senses overall, Nanami was sure that tasting you would feel amazing, but this was otherworldly.

Completely enthralled, he began dipping his tongue inside you to drink you in, having your walls clenching immediately around it.

The sounds you made — your moaning and begging, as your thighs rubbed against his cheeks and fingers tugged on his hair — would be etched in his brain for eternity, he was sure of it.

The moment his hands pressed harder on your thighs, pulling them against his shoulders, and you let out a mixture of a squeal and a moan, something inside him snapped, sending his mouth into a feral quest against your cunt.

Groaning and panting into you, he lapped relentlessly on your folds, nuzzling your clit so intently it nearly sent you crawling over the walls. Your vision was white, starry, black, and then white again, and you wondered for a minute if this was all pleasure or if the light of the room was actually flickering.

Mouth agape, your moans bounced off the walls, and your back arched desperately, while your entire body tightened with the tell-tale signs of an intense orgasm. Your toes were curling, your ears were ringing, and your face contorted in desperate need for release.

“D-don’t stop- don’t… Hah-- I-m… I-I… Hah---!“

Upon hearing your pleas, Nanami latched his lips on your clit and sucked on it so powerfully you didn’t get tipped over the edge, but was effectively thrown from it with no parachute or lifeline.

Your entire body tensed and jolted. You came with a desperate cry, tightening your grip on his hair with bruising force. He let out a loud moan, trying to hold himself together as you fell apart on his mouth, and started to lick you softly to wean you off your high.

For a few seconds, your entire body stopped answering any voluntary movement signals from your brain, and you could’ve sworn you forgot your name.

You were sent to heaven and returned unscathed.

Coming back to Earth, your grip on him loosened, and Nanami brought his mouth up to one of your thighs, pressing gentle kisses over it.

When your vision wasn’t all abstract colors anymore, you looked down to see Nanami with hooded eyes, resting his chin over your mound, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful creature in existence.

Given what had just transpired, you found it to be incredibly absurd that this — him gazing at you — was what had you blushing violently.

But here you were, hiding your face under the back of your hand, as you chuckled sheepishly solely from the way he looked at you.

This beautiful, adoring man.

The urge to tell him how much you loved him came back, but even like this, so unclad and vulnerable, it was incredibly hard.

Nanami was barely blinking, wondering how he had allowed — or better, forced — himself to live without this, without you, for so long.

“I’m starting to feel embarrassed,” you said, equal parts joking and genuine, as you finally managed to meet his glance again.

He blinked a few times, being pulled from his thoughts, whispering a half-hearted apology as he crawled his way back to you.

His hair was a mess, his lips were rosy and puffy, and his eyes…

His eyes.

Trying to keep yourself from becoming a fluttering chaos all over again, you shook your head lightly as you resumed speaking.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you cooed, sliding your fingers down his face, pressing your lips to his. Nanami pushed his tongue inside your mouth, and you moaned in response, tasting your essence mixed in with his own flavor.

God, you could kiss him and taste this for hours on end.

His mouth and tongue flowed and veered softly, with no rush other than to imprint your flavor in him. Nanami clearly was a kisser — a very good one —, and was delighted to keep exploring you like that for as long as you’d let him.

Suddenly, you had a little wicked idea creeping up on you, as you made some effort to finally part your lips from his and uttered, “you know what, I’m sorry.”

Nanami was puzzled.

“What do you m-“

With your strength back, you locked your legs on the sides of Nanami’s waist and rolled his body over, landing on top of him.

His breath was caught for a moment before he smiled at you. Smiling back, you straddled yourself back, diving your fingers on the edges of his boxers to slide them down.

Nanami helped you by raising his body, and the moment you removed the piece of clothing, his cock sprang out, bearing a flushed, bulbous, red tip that mutely slapped against his belly. It was bigger than you anticipated, thicker too, and you wondered if you could fit it all in your mouth.

Probably not.

You also didn’t fail to notice the very evident damp patch on his underwear from his pre-cum alone.

He must be desperate right now, you thought to yourself, enticingly amused.

However, the moment you were about to wrap your fingers around him and descend, Nanami held your hand and sat up. He seemed slightly… Embarrassed?

“Hm… what is it?” you asked, pressing against his hand.

He cleared his throat.

“I’m… very wound up. Could we…” Nanami mumbled, words dying on their way out.

Truth was, ever since the moment you were grinding your clothed cunt against him, his mind was boiling to the thought of burying himself inside you to the hilt.

There was no sugar-coating it.

“Oh…” you let out, “so… you want me too?” you asked, a hint of amusement to your voice.

You weren’t the only one needy tonight.

He sighed from the depths of his soul.

“Stop teasing.”

His voice came out raspy, more of a plea than an actual chide.

The man was crumbling down, and it was delightful to watch The Nanami Kento, always so unflappable, falling apart like this.

You chuckled and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you offered in earnest.

He exhaled gently, gaze towards you softening as he did.

You blushed a little before proceeding.

“Where is the…”

“First drawer.”

Everything happened quickly. You snatched the condom from his nightstand and opened it. Nanami took it from your hands and slid it down his length. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the rubber snapped at the end.

Softly crawling your way towards him, you put both hands on his shoulders to straddle on his lap. Nanami locked his gaze on you, not breaking eye contact even for a second, right up until you both finally kissed again.

His hands began making their way down your back, and then…

You felt it.

The tip of Nanami’s fingers pressed against the scar you had right over your spine, and you gasped in pain as it hit the bundle of tangled nerves bumping over your skin. You instantly backed your face away with an aching grimace.

Nanami had witnessed how you got that scar in the fateful mission in which you two met years ago.

The sound of the blade piercing through your skin and flesh still lingered on in his nightmares.

His hand retreated so quickly you barely felt it leaving your body.

Following the aftershock, you opened your eyes to see him with his own eyes sealed shut, and Nanami appeared to be crawling his way back into his mind. His expression, usually so calm and collected, was replaced by a pained frown of his brows.

“I apologize, I… I’m…” he muttered, and you realized this wasn’t an apology for what just happened.

He still blamed himself for what had taken place then.

It broke your heart to shambles to see him like that, knowing full well nothing that transpired that night was his fault.

You cupped his jaw in your palms, and pressed your forehead to his.

"Hey, stop it. Stop apologizing, you haven't failed me. You never failed me."

Nanami's eyes were still very much sealed, and he seemed to be pulling even further away from you as the memories swirled around in his mind.

"Please, look at me," you pleaded, nuzzling against his face.

After a sigh, he answered, "I… I can't."

And he truly couldn't, still feeling the shame eating away at his chest like a parasite.

You scrambled your mind after something that might help, and finally realized the only thing you could say to pull him back.

Shit.

You were still terrified, and your entire body tensed up.

This is it. Now. I have to tell him now.

According to Nanami, you were brave.

And love, apparently, is something brave people do.

Still cupping his jaw, you sighed before letting the words come out of your mouth.

"Nanami Kento, I love you."

Your voice didn’t falter or stutter. Your declaration smoothly left your lips as naturally as breathing — the same way loving him came to you.

His breath caught halfway out, and he finally opened his eyes, soft and bare, gazing into yours.

"I love you, I have loved you for so long, I…" you repeated, sighing greatly, "I love you."

Nanami opened his mouth, but for a second, nothing — not even a huff of air — would pass. Knotting away in his throat, the words also struggled to form.

Should he? Could he? How deep in trouble would this launch the both of you?

Surpassing his worries, eventually, the words finally came out.

"I love you too."

The guilt and trauma had taken a backseat in his mind, at least for now.

When you heard Nanami’s words — heard him say that he loved you too —, your heart immediately began fluttering, and you could've sworn there was a ringing sound around the both of you.

There wasn't, though, just as much as the honeyed dewy warm rain that prickled over your entire skin was a manifestation of your love ridden excited imagination.

Smiling, you pulled him in for a kiss, and he intently pressed his lips against yours, no exploration left to be done — your tongues, by this point of the night, had met and familiarized themselves with every inch of each other's mouths, breaths, and moans.

Mindlessly, his hands plastered themselves back into your body, and brushed up from your hips, to your waist, over your back all the way to your shoulder blades.

Nanami brought you even closer, and kept kneading his hands against you, almost as if he was trying to touch your entirety all at once.

His fingertips ghosted softly around your scar accidentally again, and your breath hitched for a second. You pulled your mouth from his, just long enough to say, "lay me down."

Nanami understood it, and acquiesced. Swiftly, he supported you from your shoulders and hips, laying you down like a porcelain treasure, and caged you in with one hand to each side of your head.

You both took a few moments to admire each other.

Nanami was a tall and broad man, but from underneath, he seemed even more mountainous. His angular face, his wide shoulders and muscular arms, everything about him was just grand.

In a second, though, interrupting your gazing, his hand pulled a pillow from the top of the bed, and he gently lifted your head to put it underneath.

That was it.

In the end, you knew that his kindness, just as grand as he was, was what stole your heart.

Nanami slowly descended over you, and supported himself with his forearm to the side of your head, using his free hand to part the slightly sweaty hair on your forehead and press a fleeting, soft kiss in between your brows. Your heart skipped a beat, and his mouth came down pecking at your face in the most delicate fashion, until it rested on one of your cheeks.

You guided your hand down and positioned his tip towards your entrance, noticing Nanami shuddering with the sensation of your fingers clasping around him. His hand got down to the side of your hip, and Nanami let out a soft huff as he began to slowly push his length inside. He could feel himself gliding along your slick folds, and scrunched his eyes shut as the tip got past the resistance of your ring, eyelashes brushing over your skin with a feathery lingerance.

To say he was savoring this down to the last infinitesimal tactile sensation would be a gross understatement.

You dragged the tips of your fingers down the muscles of his abdomen, seeing how he deliciously flexed himself inside you, as you savored this in your own way too.

Sinking inch by inch, you could feel all the muscle stretches while his girth accommodated inside your walls, widening and filling you as he slipped in further. Your mouth opened in a muted moan, and with a hazy mind, you turned your face towards his, having the tip of his nose brushing over until your noses bumped against each other.

You captured his lips haphazardly, and Nanami stroked his tongue over your mouth, groaning the moment he bottomed out inside you.

You felt him almost kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, and your mind was sent spiraling with the shivers that shot up from your lower abdomen to your entire body. It got you fluttering around his shaft, and Nanami's grip on your hip suddenly tightened, as a strained groan fell from his lips.

It took you a second to realize exactly what was going on.

"I-I… need… a second,” he mustered up to say in a cracked, coarse voice. His length was throbbing strongly inside you, and his expression looked almost pained. You noticed his fist beside your head was strongly clenched around the bedsheet.

Nanami wasn't lying when he said he was very wound up.

You planted a small, loving peck over his cheek and drew your hands to the back of his head, gently brushing your thumbs against his hair until you felt Nanami’s body relaxing, and his pulse inside you evening out to something calmer. He eventually let go of the bedsheet and drew his hand closer, tangling his fingers in your hair.

In an easy, gradual pace, Nanami began dragging his length out from you, and did so completely, pushing back inside the same way, robbing you of a gasp the moment he bottomed out again. His hips began in a steady, calm rhythm, and from your mouth, came out what he could only say were the best sounds he had ever heard.

“Fuck-- y-you feel… so good…” you purred for him, sending pleasured shivers all over his body. You were both completely covered in sweat right now, and your bodies slapped against each other, sounds only covered by your begging whimpers.

However, as good as it was, you needed more. Greedily, you felt the increasing need of being completely taken apart, and this slow love making was not doing it for you.

“Harder…” you pleaded, and Nanami picked up the pace as soon as he heard you, thrusts becoming more intense. It was better, no doubt about it, but you still wanted more.

Your hungry desire had become something indescribable, and all you could do was mumble softly in between mewls, pleading him to go even harder.

Nanami was also feeling himself grow more and more intent on satisfying your pleas, and realized this might not be the best position to do so.

He stopped for a second, and you muttered in complaint.

However, your disquiet was short-lived, as he propped himself up, manhandling your hips to accompany him and pulled one of your legs straight, letting your ankle rest on his shoulder, supporting your leg with his arm's length and hand cupping your ass. Your other leg kept hooked around him, and this shift sent his cock even deeper.

“Harder?” Nanami asked, almost as a dare, with his disheveled hair falling over his forehead, a few golden strands tangling with sweat. There was something remotely playful in his eyes, and it sent your heart pounding inside your chest to see him in a way you had never seen before.

Oh, how you coveted to freeze this moment in time.

In answer to his question, you nodded, half-lidded eyes and an anticipation smile, only to be surprised with a thumb making its way to your bottom lip, softly asking its way in.

You obliged, and put your lips around it, sucking on his thumb, basking in the view of this boulder of a man completely shuddering to the sight and sensation of that.

Nanami pulled his hand back, resting his digit over your clit.

“Hold on to something, darling” he warned, having a cheeky smile pulling on his face.

In sweet anticipation, you pressed your hands against the wall on which the bed rested, and locked eyes with Nanami, just to see him admiring you for a moment before he made a complete mess out of you.

In a sharp motion, he thrust his cock into you so intensely his tip bumped fully against your cervix, trembling the bed on its foundations. Your head launched on the pillow, your mouth falling open to let out the loudest moan — if that sound even be called a moan — you had ever uttered in your entire life.

Not sparing you a moment to recover, he retreated and plunged again and again inside your cunt, sending wet plap sounds bouncing over the walls. Nanami began rutting into you, kissing you deeper and deeper with every thrust, and you were nearly yelling from the pleasurable pain with which he had you finally crumbling down.

“Fuck,” he let out, “is this-- hah- hard enough--?” Nanami asked half in jest, knowing full well he didn’t need an answer. The way your back began arching so deliciously as you yelled and mumbled incoherently was enough of a response.

Every time he’d thrust, your body would tense up, and your walls would suck him in. It was sending his mind into a wild spiral.

Nanami was mesmerized by your face, and had the faintest feeling that he might cum from it alone. You looked and sounded like you were having the most delicious, toe-curling, gut-wrenching, blissful-stupor inducing sex of your life.

And well, up until at that moment, you actually were.

Dear God, he could die right now, and he’d die the happiest man alive.

You were having shock waves of stupor-filled pleasure shooting through your body, and Nanami began circling his thumb over your throbbing, sensitive clit. Oh boy, did he have you seeing the entire Milky Way in a split second behind your eyelids. Your mind distantly registered the noise of dragging wood and your fingers starting to struggle reaching support behind your head.

Is the bed pushing away from the wall? Are we literally rocking the bed? Holy shit.

A heat you rarely felt began to burn like incandescent molten lava in your belly, and you looked at him wide eyed, holding out onto some kind of desperation.

Nanami barely registered that you were looking at him like that when he felt the warm spurts, getting his entire crotch completely greased. You squirted so intensely that for a second you felt like you actually fell unconscious, before coming back to the second wave — the continuum of earth-shattering, convulsing orgasms that always followed it.

He wasn’t ready to have you squirt all over his cock so fervently, letting out the most heavenly, luscious, indecent and pornographic sounds he had ever heard.

He could never be prepared for that.

The sheer scent alone sent shivers throughout his entire body. Your scent was completely smeared over him, slowly dripping down his thighs.

With your walls tightening around his cock, his own peak took him by surprise, as much as he had tried to hold it away. The most animalistic and ferocious groan came out of his mouth as thick strands of white cum filled up the condom. Nanami's entire body jerked, making it incredibly difficult to keep pumping himself into you without risking pulling out too much by mistake, so he just let the convulsing waves finish washing down his body before collapsing on the bed by your side.

You both took a moment to breathe, then two, then three, still panting like you had just run a marathon.

Hell, you were probably panting even harder than that.

"I'm… I’m s-sorry about… the mess," you apologized, huffing and puffing, face blushing as you rolled your eyes back, still recovering from the aftershock.

Nanami instantly turned your face to his, mouth agape and gaze locked onto your lips, as he, without uttering a word, thrust his tongue inside your mouth in an open-mouthed, wet, sloppy kiss. All while still panting heavily.

Pulling back, you smiled, asking, “nothing to apologize for?”

He huffed, smiling back at you, “nothing.”

You both felt like you'd have the best night of sleep of your lives.

Nanami would not, however, as the thoughts he shoved away to the back of his mind earlier that night were about to take him into unwanted nightmares.

End notes:

I can’t reread this again. I just can’t. Hope I got all the typos out, lol. Old version of this fic is here. When I read it a few weeks ago, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t quite like it, so I decided to give it a go on rewriting it. Three rewrites later, here it is, hope you guys enjoyed it.

Tag list (for this fic + current AU tags):

@jadedjane @senseifupa @nikos-a-clown @fairy-corno @ldrcvlt

@magical-girl-b @montyrokz @hexrts-anatomy @g-kleran @otomesass

@redlikerozez @yammy-yammy-yama

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faggotbeloved · 2 months ago

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Cold Metal Biting Soft Flesh | Yandere Curly x Captain!M!Reader

Prologue: Decay (~2k words)

CW: Canon typical gore and violence, yandere themes, named original characters. Vomiting, blood and decay, no beta we die like Anya

This work can be skipped, since it's just a prologue.

This work does not contain smut but is 18+. Minors and fem-aligned people, please do not interact. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

As the captain of the Astraeus, a colonization ship in which you take crew back and forth to barren rocks with no life save some algae that's a few million years from walking, you'd seen some shit. The only constants in your life were your ship, your base crew of just six, your nephew, and your title as captain.

Your life was good enough; you picked up around sixty colonists with various skills, dropped them off on a moon or a planet with the things they needed to flourish, then flew back to do it again. You had your late sibling's kid dropped in your lap recently, but he was a good kid and a promising pilot. You hardly spoke to the passengers below deck, but your little gaggle of crewmates were good friends, usually.

You thought you'd seen all that the vast, empty space had to offer until an unidentified object entered your flight path. The red flashing lights warned you that this clearly wasn't an asteroid, but in a meeting your resident doctor claimed that, regardless of its identity, it was in your best interest to ignore it and simply hop over it. When he suggested this to your crew, they were much less than happy to hear it.

"Are you kidding? Whoever it is, their SOS light is on, it's objectively immoral to ignore them. They'll die, if they haven't already!" Sascha protested. Sascha, with her spiky and colorful hair, was always the loudest and most abrasive, so it was no surprise she was vocal in her opinion against it.

"I understand that, but it'll add days to the trip. The passengers will be outraged, we could miss a supply drop—" he defended earnestly, but shut off once you raised a hand to silence him.

"Rhodes. She's right, and it's in our scientific interest," you emphasized, "that we dock at an undocumented craft. If there's living people, it is our responsibility to save them. If there's samples, we should get those, too, since there's no telling what the craft has."

Rhodes sighed and sat back, relinquishing the argument to your wise opinion.

"I motion to investigate the craft," you announced.

"I second the damn motion," Sascha growled.

"All opposed, raise your hand," you instructed. Nobody raised a hand, so you adjourned the meeting and prepared a team to investigate. The passengers didn't really care, not after you explained the cruciality of it all, so you and gathered your selected team.

You were a given; your nephew was in charge in the event that something happened on the Astraeus. Rhodes, with his medical expertise, was forced to come along. Harbor, the resident cook and communications leader, wanted to volunteer, but was overrode by Sascha. Finally, Lucille, who was just about the only person who specialized in combat, came with.

──────────────────────

With that, you donned your suits and ventured into the ship. Once you got inside and depressurized, you were immediately greeted with the thick air of rot. Fuck.

There was no oxygen in the ship and the lights flickered dully as the automatic doors showered with sparks once you left the airlock. You and Lucille forced the door open whilst Sascha and Rhodes bickered over whether or not anyone could still be alive. Sascha was optimistic, and Rhodes was less than.

"Hey, this is a Pony Express freighter," Sascha suddenly realized. "That... uh, fuck, what was her name? The pony mascot, Polle! Yeah, her face is all over the place. What were they hauling?"

Once the broken door opened with a uncomfortable screech, Lucille spoke slowly. "...Mouthwash."

You were stunned. That must have been a million empty bottles in here, all strewn about or in piles. "They ran out of food," Rhodes said softly. "No shit, dumbass. You think they drank it for fun?" Sascha huffed.

"You two, quit," you spoke up. "Pair up and focus. If anyone's alive after this long, it's not going to be pretty. Lou, get your gun."

"Will do, Captain," replied Lucille, waiting for your go-ahead to continue on. You ventured left and met with a wall of insulation foam. Ugh. Of course Pony Express would use insulation instead of spray metal; why wouldn't they cut corners with the cheapest material possible? Makes you glad that they went under a couple decades ago.

"We need to find a new route. These old kinds of ships have a central kitchen, a few other rooms, and a downstairs cargo bay," Sascha informed.

"Get with your pair. Lucille, go with Rhodes. Sascha, you get Lucille's extra gun, come with me. You two, take the right fork and we'll take middle. Keep your mics on."

──────────────────────

As you and Sascha went forward, you found long abandoned bedrooms belonging to a couple crew members. One door, the one without a lock and the only one open, held a woman's ID card, which prompted you to collect the IDs of all members.

"Huh, she's cute. This generation ship had cryopods, maybe she's a popsicle," Sascha joked.

"Be on the lookout for... four crew members and a captain. Young Anglo female named Anya, teenage East Asian male named Daisuke, middle aged Anglo male named Swansea, and a young Anglo male named Jimmy," you announced. "Looks like cabin's cut off from the rest of the ship. They probably had to sleep in the kitchen or medbay."

"Hm. Found the utility, but the door's jammed. I'll circle back," Rhodes said over the mic, passing by the room. "I'm in the medbay. It has traces of blood and vomit on the floor and—fuck, that bed is soaked in dried blood. Empty pill bottles; Captain, I think someone overdosed. It'd be easy, these painkillers are only a little less strong than what we have."

Rhodes observed the room while you and Sascha ventured back and followed their path to meet up.

"There's a gun case. Gun and bullets are missing. Be prepared to see either a crazy, gun wielding bastard or a whole lot of brains on the wall," Lucille said bitterly as you entered.

Sascha had been abnormally quiet since the Medbay news was delivered. "I'm a little nervous to check further now. But I guess we have to, huh?" she muttered.

Emeto and Gore warning.

You pressed on, and in the cockpit was a mess of foam and some dried blood. Nothing too damning just yet, though. You and Sascha lingered back to check out the control panels and determined that the ship steered directly into an asteroid, something virtually impossible with how simple the instructions were. "This was a purposeful crash, gu—" you began, but was cut off by a gag and the sound of vomit hitting a helmet.

"Lucille? Lucille!" You shouted, springing up to rush into the central room.

Ho-ly Fuck.

──────────────────────

Three people of the four you'd seen earlier were slumped across a table, party hats either hanging from their neck or somehow still on their head. You'd never wished to throw up more than in this moment. Lucille, since she'd already thrown up once, had to deal with the vomit coating her helmet, which only prompted her to go again.

The girl, Anya, had bloody saliva and puke dried onto her lips and decay around the her face, while her eyes were bloodshot and her body exhibited every symptom of opioid overdose. She slumped backwards, her position hardly mattering to whoever set this disgusting sight up. Fuck.

The boy, Daisuke, was unrecognizable with his face caved in. He was gruesomely propped up with his head on his hands, which had blood dripping down the forearms. His lips were twisted into a mockery of a smile, and the party hat had stayed on throughout the years of stationary movement. His bowels were nearly spilling out, clearly having been cut by a large sharp object before having been killed by the blow to his face.

The man, Swansea, had a clean bullet hole through the head and had both arms on the table like he was waiting to eat. His head fell backwards and the crust of regurgitated blood caked his lips and chin. Furthermore, his eyeball hung loosely around his chin and he'd been clearly beaten up before hand.

Five steaks lined the plates, and the barely-started decay made the sight worse. Five steaks... in a ship that had no real meat.

Not only were the crew in space with no decomposing lifeforms to feed off of them, they were in a room cold enough to freeze their bodies now that the heater power failed, so decomposition ceased entirely. They were stuck like they had just been killed days ago, their skin bloating and their organs slush inside them. With every poke and prod you made, Lucille gagged and only worsened her condition as she attempted to lift her helmet, since she suddenly had no oxygen but was hit with the smell of rot.

"Look away," you said firmly, motioning for Rhodes to bring Lucille to the side.

"Sealegs, this is your Captain speaking. Do you copy?" You spoke into your microphone, radioing back to the ship.

"Captain, this is Sealegs! I copy!" A young boy's voice chirped out eagerly.

"Sealegs, I want you to talk over the intercom—the big, red button I tell you not to touch—and tell the passengers to send up anyone with 'for-en-sic' or medical expertise. They need suits and tell them that it's a 'Rated R' sight. Three 'ca-da-vers' so far, and to bring barf bags," you said carefully, using words he was unfamiliar with to try not to traumatize your nephew.

You spring into Captain mode, reassigning roles to fit the crew's comfortability and capability. "Sascha, lead the passengers up and make sure they bring actual supplies. A gurney or something in case one of us passes out. Lucille, hand Rhodes your gun. You're dismissed; go shower and clean the vomit from your helmet. You don't need to see this."

──────────────────────

A full inspection of the ship, including the storage, determined that two crew members were missing—Jimmy, and the captain, whose name you hadn't yet found. Unfortunately, both of the captain's ID cards were destroyed beyond repair in a manner that seemed on purpose. The only room not observed yet was the utility room, which was seemingly blocked by a fire axe and multiple furniture items. In the spirit of a full check, you and about a half-dozen passengers broke through and gasped as you finally saw the inside.

The Util room itself was fine, but the final crew member, Jimmy had shot himself in the chest.

It didn't kill him immediately.

He crawled to beside a cryo pod and used his hand to make a handprint on the handle, as if begging someone else to open it.

"Check all of the other pods. I want someone to get that gun, too," you organized, then followed the handprint and lifted open the hatch. Oh. Oh, fuck.

"Shit! I need medical, now! Gurney, respirator, and morphine!" you shouted as a man—the former Captain, you were sure, fell out of the pod in the fetal position, shivering, choking, and staring at you with a wide, terrified eye.

You picked him up, wincing as you felt his raw skin squish under his weight, and removed your helmet to set it over his head for a gasp of real air. God knows how long he'd been without fresh air. You may have been suffocating, but you had good lungs. In less than a minute, the team brought a respirator and oxygen tank with a gurney.

You set him down and placed the mask over yourself, gasping and gagging at the rotting stench in the air, then rasped out to the man, "It'll be okay. We've got you."

You took back your helmet and put the mask over his lipless mouth, then sprinted back to the ship. Once you looked back down at him, you saw a tear escaping his eye and piercing blue irises set upon you.

┌───────────────────────┐

Yay... first post on this blog! This is obviously not the only part, I have plans, but this is essentially a skippable cutscene, since you could probably just ignore this part and head to the next once I make it. I just wanted to set the tone and setting, try my hand at gore, and voice my post-judgement headcannons. Anyways, I really hope my writing wasn't bad and it made sense! No Curly just yet, but just wait lol.

#✑ my works.#✑ captain curly.#tw yandere #tw emeto #captain curly x reader #captain curly x male reader #curly mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing x reader #curly x male reader #curly x reader #curly mouthwashing x male reader #yandere curly #yandere mouthwashing #yandere curly mouthwashing #yandere captain curly #x reader #x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 2 months ago

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:) Heyyy you gremlins of the Forest, seas and alleyways! I have sustenance for you

🌊💧🐚 Siren Everlasting trio + Dan and Ellie 🐚💧🌊

So now on to the plot! Danny with Sam and Tucker [+ fetus Dan and Ellie] have to leave their world and before they can get out the GIW got Danny by being turned over by his parents and in clear Dc X Dp fashion we traumatize the fuck out of this boy and after the traumatizing Sam and Tucker break into the GIW base and ‘Take care of’ ( Kinda Yandere Sam and Tucker let’s go! ) and they take him ( he already has Ellie and dans core in him so….three for one deal ) and they head to clockworks place and explains the problem and what do they do now???

And for clockworks side of this he knows they can’t stay in the ghost zone because even if Sam and Tucker are extremely practically ghost at this point and will most definitely be ghost when they die ( but that in the FAR future because ✨ecto-contamination✨ ) but they are still considered human enough to the point they can’t stay in the ghost zone so they can’t stay with here but there is a deserted mostly water planet where the inhabitants ( this is where the presume aliens come in) are like the sea animals that live there but more alien and stuff and due to the ecto their body can adapt to the environment and with his powers he can make it almost instantly so that would work { sorry if this is a bit of word vomit I don’t know what do word it }

And Sam and Tucker are chill with plan because they get everything they want with this

They get

To stay with the love of their lives (and afterlives)

get to have their children (yes they have already claimed Ellie and Dan as their children and NO ONE can stop them) safe and cared for

Have their Love heal and be safe

And with the added bonus with beatass new siren like forms that they can use to protect their love

So their good with this plan and Danny just wants him and his family ( Sam and Tucker his Lovers and Ellie and Dan his children) to be safe and happy so he’s also chill with this and they tell clockwork as much he opens a portal to said planet and as soon as Sam, Tucker and Danny step into the water they turn into their more siren/mermaid like form

Danny’s form is a lot more white beta fish

Tucker’s is more shark like

Sam’s form looks more like a eels

They all are pretty big compared to humans or well normal humans, Now onto their home/cave it is in the more deep part of waters and Danny spends a lot of time in the cave due to being pregnant with Ellie and Dan + Sam and Tucker protectiveness, well Sam and Tucker are hanging around him or are getting food….and that’s all I can I think of for now but probably going to add more after post

Now onto the DC part of this so someone or something alerts the JL about a planet that is not supposed to have sentient life so a team ( Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Flash, aqua man) go to check it out and they end up in a submarine and are trying to find where that sentient life is so this can go two ways for how The everlasting trio and the JL meet

The FIRST way that the team is in the submarine and get a little bit to close to the cave for Sam’s and tuckers likings ( which is no where near Danny and the baby’s did I mention that in these forms that their instincts kick into overdrive and add that with pregnant Lover not a good combo ) and so Sam and Tucker take the only option in is situation which is slap it around enough so what’s in side of it to drown *Cue Instincts yelling for them to take the body’s and feed them to pregnant mate* and for the JL point of view in this their just waving their way through the water trying to find what is making the sensor go off and all the sudden their being beating around the water by the looks of it two giant alien mer-people that are clearly pissed off about something and this goes on for a few minutes and the submarine is about to start taking on water if the mer-Aliens don’t stop hitting the sub!!! And while this was happening Danny is taking a nap ( which Sam and Tucker were to before the JL showed up ) and Danny wakes up because he hears….yelling??? So still a bit tired he gets out from the cave to find where they are and he finds them beating a sub around like their playing catch so of course he interrupts and now back to the JL view point they see a third mer-alien and it seems to be upset about something and almost immediately the other two stop hitting the sub to go comfort the third one….that is showing and they all have this collective thought “So that why they were so upset! We got to close to the baby’s!” And that’s about it for the first way this could go

The SECOND way is that Danny just swimming outside the cave ( Sam and Tucker are doing…something ) and he comes across this sub and of course he’s curious about it so he goes to check it out and for the JL this showing mer-alien just comes up to the sub and starts to swim around it and seems curious about it while letting out chips and hums ( in these forms talking sounds like chips/hums/growl ) and when they try to make contact they seem to understand what their trying to convey until their mates show up and their very upset…

And now time for the details of design for Danny I’m thinking this

But instead of legs because you know… mer person ( and the jewelry is given to him by Sam and Tucker instincts go brrr)

And this is is the kinda fish I’m thinking Danny’s form takes after

For Sam I’m thinking but just get rid of the bag and lantern and cling the dress around her hips and make it shorter and that really what I’m thinking

For the top {I really can’t find anything for tucker and Sam that I’m thinking for this so..} and this is the pic for the tail but of course make it purple and black…yes I know there are pics of purple and black eels this one is the search that looks like it’s not going to steal my soul

And for tucker….I really can’t find what I’m thinking about so you just get words this time so his just shirtless that’s it maybe he has a few arm bands and some fabric around his waist but that really it for his thought process

Oh and here’s the pic that I’m thinking his mer half takes after

And that’s about it for my thoughts hope you gremlins like it byeeee

301 notes · View notes

shuadotcom · 10 months ago

Text

In Case You Didn’t Know (M)

Pairing: Lee Chan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chan has always been just one of your step-brother’s best friends. He’s also been in love with you for as long as everyone remembers, but you never paid him much mind - that is until you decide to return home after many years away and you see the man he’s become. He goes from being your little brother’s best friend to being the perfect man for you in a matter of months. Now the questions are who wants who more and will either of you do anything about your feelings?

Genres: Fluff, romance, smut, a little angst | AUs: Brother’s best friend au, roommates au, 90s au

Rating: 18+(MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED) | Words: 28.8k 🥴

Warnings: Profanity, alcohol use, will-they-won’t-they tension, a scene of reader x Lee Minhyuk (suggestive) and reader x Joshua (romantic) | Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering (f.receiving), oral (f.receiving), thigh riding, praise, dirty talk, pet names (baby, babygirl, good boy), service top!Chan

Note: Written for the Now That’s 90s collab hosted by @beomcoups & @mingsolo ! I wanted to get this out for Christmas but my brain had other plans. I wanted to invoke a kind of cheesy Christmas romance movie feel to this while still keeping it 90s so that’s the vibe we’re going for! Thank you to the always amazing @wongyuseokie for the lovely banner 💙 And thank you @wooahaeproductions for beta reading my word vomit and helping me come up with this title! I love and appreciate you very much my beta/fic title queen! 💖 Also, I want to give giant sappy thank yous, hugs, and kisses to Bee, @horanghater, @onlymingyus, and @the-boy-meets-evil for all giving me pep talks and offering support throughout the process of this fic coming to exist. It’s my longest fic ever and I wanted to start over so many more times than I did so I appreciate and love y’all v much!! 🥹💞🫶🏽

“Miss? We’re here,” The taxi driver's voice wakes you, bleary eyes focusing on the apartment building outside the car window. You hadn’t been sleeping that long, but it was long enough to make you tired after your fifteen-hour flight to Seoul. That, coupled with the heat of the taxi made you cozy enough to nap, but you’re finally looking forward to being out of a moving vehicle.

As the taxi driver unloads your suitcases from the trunk, you step out into the cold September air, and triple-check the address of the apartment building, comparing the number on the building in front of you to what’s written in your planner in hand. You had verified the address with your step-brother each time the two of you spoke on the phone leading up to your flight to Korea.

When you originally told Hansol that you decided that you were ready to quit your flight attendant career and move back home, your original plan was to move back in with your parents. Going into it, you knew well enough that the move would be annoying. You loved your mom and stepdad, but your mom was a bit of a helicopter mom growing up, so you can only imagine what living under her roof again would be like.

Luckily, you and your brother have always gotten along and been close, so instead of subjecting you to moving back home, he offered to let you move in with him and his roommate. Their third roommate was planning on moving out to live with his partner, so his room would be open for the taking.

“It’d be so much easier than putting an ad in the paper or online and interviewing strangers. You and Chan are cool right?” Hansol had asked, referring to his other roommate. Lee Chan was one of his best friends since you all were kids. Other than his very loud and very obvious crush on you, you had no problem with Chan and gladly accepted the room offer.

After you and your brother made a plan for you to move in, you contacted your oldest and closest friend who had offered you job opportunities before, citing if you ever wanted to move back to South Korea, she would do her damndest to get you something. Needless to say, she was thrilled to hear your voice when you finally called and broke the news.

The planning to get here seemed like it took forever, but now that you’re back with your feet on Seoul soil, you were happy. The journey of closing this chapter of your life was wrapping up. Now you will have a chance at doing something different for the next part of your life.

With both full-to-the-brim suitcases in hand, you roll them behind you into the building and to the elevator. The ride to the third floor is short and the walk to your brother’s apartment is even shorter.

Just as he had instructed, you lift the welcome mat to find a key waiting for you and use it to let yourself in.

“Han?” You call your brother’s name once inside but don’t get a response. You can hear water running down the hall and see shoes by the door so he’s obviously home.

Your eyes sweep over the living room as you take off your coat and boots. You’re surprised at just how clean the apartment is with two men in their mid-twenties living in it. The couch is a simple black fabric three-seater with a matching chair off to the side. A brown wood coffee table sits in front of both with a few magazines and two remotes on it. Presumably, for the TV and VCR sitting across the room from the seating.

You had half expected to see clothes and movies strewn across the floor and furniture, but there’s none of that in sight.

After hanging your coat on the rack by the door and leaving your boots with the other pair, you leave your suitcases in the foyer and start down the hallway, heading for what you assume is the bathroom. You’re not sure which room is Hansol’s, but he mentioned that he’d be home when you got in, so you plan on poking your head into each door until you find the one that so obviously screams Chwe Hansol.

The water cuts off in the bathroom as your socked feet pad across the carpet and you make a pitstop at the bathroom, figuring you’ll just meet your brother there instead.

“Hansol?” You raise a hand to knock on the door at the same time that it swings open. It is most certainly not your brother on the other side.

Out of the bathroom, clad in only a fluffy white towel slung low on his hips, steps your brother’s roommate and best friend Lee Chan.

The same Lee Chan that you’ve known since he was in grade school when his hair was spiked, his eyes were too far apart and his head was too big for his body. The same one that’s been hopelessly in love with you since he and his family moved in next door to you and Hansol when he was ten. You of course have had to turn him down all of your life. Other than the fact that he’s a few years younger than you, he was always just your brother’s awkward but sweet best friend. You remember exactly how he looked and how he acted - like a kid.

This Lee Chan though is different. This Lee Chan very clearly works out. His arms are muscular and buff. He has defined pecs and abs that are still covered in flecks of water that are dripping down his built body. Dripping down to the light dusting of hair leading from his belly button and underneath the towel.

This Lee Chan has a strong jaw, pouty lips, and dark hair that hangs in his eyes. This Lee Chan is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life - and a man he most certainly is. Your eyes unabashedly sweep over his mouth-watering frame until you meet his brown eyes and you remember instantly that this is still the Lee Chan that you should absolutely not be looking at like this.

“Oh! Y/n!” His voice is much deeper than you remember and it sits heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“Chan! Sorry, I thought you were Hansol! He said he’d be home when I got in.” You clear your throat, trying to get a grip on yourself.

“Oh yeah, he got called into work at the last minute. He left you a note on the fridge.”

“Oh, okay.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither of you speaking.

“Well uh, let me get dressed and then I can give you a tour of the apartment and your room. I’m heading out soon to meet up with some friends, but I have time.”

“Only if you want to! I don't want to hold you up!”

“You won’t, promise! Just give me a few minutes.”

Chan flashes you a smile that fills up his whole face and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks.

You nod and scurry to the opposite side of the hallway, realizing that you’re still trapping him in the doorway of the bathroom. You watch him walk into what you can only assume is his room and go back into the living room, waiting for him on the couch.

You’re thankful for him needing to take a few minutes because you need some time yourself as well. The fact that this man is the same boy that you grew up alongside is a lot to wrap your head around.

The two of you have always gotten along. He was a sweet kid even though all he did was follow you around at any moment he could. He was funny and probably one of Hansol’s most respectful friends which you appreciate, given that his friend group was all just a bunch of rowdy boys, but you’ve never thought about him like that in all the time that you knew him.

Over the years, there have been a few times where you’d see him in pictures your mom would email or mail to you whenever you were somewhere for a long period of time. The last time you’d come home for the holidays was three years ago and you saw Chan briefly, but from what you recall, he just looked like some guy to you when you had seen him. He did not look like this then and he certainly hadn’t been this good-looking growing up or maybe you would have entertained something with him.

That thought is only fleeting and you have to calm your heart (and your pussy) from reacting to seeing him like this. He’s still your little brother’s best friend and he’s now your roommate, and in no way can anything happen. That is messy on so many levels.

This sudden onslaught of want has to be because you’re just that desperate for a romantic connection with someone. Or you just need to get laid. Trying to maintain any semblance of a relationship in your line of work proved to be harder than you’d think.

For the past almost 10 years of working in the sky, you’ve had your fair share of hookups here and there. Your last was a fun, albeit messy, fling with a new pilot you were often on the same flights with named Kevin. He was handsome and funny and easy to get along with, but that didn’t end well, seeing how he got right to work hooking up with all the other flight attendants on his flights. You weren’t sure if commitment in the form of officially being boyfriend and girlfriend was what you wanted with him, but you had gone out of your way to make sure you weren’t sleeping around or seeing other people when the two of you got together. He didn’t agree with that.

Before Kevin, there was another flight attendant you were often on the same flights as. Krystal was sweet and the two of you had grown close, but she wanted to keep your relationship a secret from everyone all of the time. You had known going into it that you were still in a time where people were weird about queer people, but you also didn’t care that much. She did though, and ended up calling it off mostly due to paranoia.

Then there was the wealthy businessman, Jacob. He was an amazing guy and an even more amazing lay, but he wanted you to quit your job and move to Canada with him. This was a bit earlier in your career so you were nowhere near ready to abandon it all. He didn’t like that and would get into huge fights with you about it until you finally broke it off.

There were other tries and fails, but the moral of the story is that dating was damn near impossible for you for most of your adult life. Now that you’re planning on finally settling somewhere, you need to get back onto the dating scene and stop lusting over someone you should not be drooling over.

Chan comes out of his room then, dressed and hair styled. He’s clad in denim jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt and somehow your eyes still sweep over him as if he’s still standing in front of you in a towel.

He doesn’t seem to notice your ogling since he simply flashes you a wide smile and beckons you to follow him into the next room.

“So, the apartment isn’t anything too fancy. We’ve got the kitchen around the corner here; if you go through that door, that’s the balcony. There’s a couple of chairs and a drying rack out there - nothing very interesting.” He points around the simple kitchen, gesturing to the sliding door next to the fridge leading to the balcony. Chan walks in front of you again to lead you back out into the living room and you can’t help but catch a whiff of his cologne. The warm, woodsy scent makes you groan internally, and yet again, you need to check yourself.

He gestures to the living room, mentioning the entertainment center and their VHS collection. He mentions that your brother made a space for you under the sink in the bathroom for you to put some of your things. Chan points out the small closet next to the bathroom where they keep extra towels and linens and the washing machine which sits in a small nook next to that closet.

The room directly across from the bathroom belongs to Hansol, and when looking inside you see that’s obvious. Posters line the walls and CDs and books are piled on the dark wood desk in the corner. Clothes are strewn about on the floor along with a few pairs of sneakers. Since the rest of the apartment is cleaned up, clearly Hansol reserves the mess for his own space.

The second room next to Hansol’s is Chan’s. He lets you poke your head in and you’re surprised at how neat it is, much like the main area of the apartment. It’s safe to assume that Chan must be in charge of keeping things neat or at least keeping your notoriously messy brother in line.

The last room at the end of the hall is yours. It previously belonged to Seungkwan, another one of Hansol’s best friends and their former roommate. It’s clean and neat, with a desk against the wall on one side and a made-up bed on the other. A dresser sits near the closet next to a full-length mirror. Otherwise, there’s not much else in it.

“Oh! Let me grab your bags! I should’ve offered.” Chan ignores your protest telling him not to worry about it and goes to get your suitcases anyway.

He wheels them down the hall and into your room as you grab your backpack and purse and follow behind him.

“Thanks, Chan.” He leaves your luggage by the door and smiles at you again.

“No worries, Y/n,” Chan checks his watch before announcing that he’s about to leave. “ If you need anything, Hansol should be back later this afternoon and I know he keeps the number to his work line on the fridge. I’ll probably be home in the evening, but otherwise, the apartment is yours since you live here now.” Chan waves at you as he leaves your room and you take a seat on the chair in front of the desk, listening as he collects his things and shouts another goodbye, closing, and locking the front door behind him.

The apartment is quiet when it’s just you and the temptation to sprawl out onto the bed and take a nap is so real, but instead, you force yourself up and out into the living room. You know that you should call your mom and let her know you’ve landed, but you also know she’ll talk your ear off if she answers, and you’re not really in the mood for that.

Instead, you pick up the phone on the side table and call your childhood best friend Jinah, intending to coordinate a time to meet and catch up. When she doesn’t answer you leave a message, letting her know this phone number and that you’ve made it to Seoul. There are a few other friends you need to connect with, but that can wait until later.

For now, you decide that a hot shower is calling you. Admittedly, it takes a few minutes for you to figure out how the shower works, but when you do, you’re more than thankful for the opportunity to clear your head and finally relax. You’ve been frazzled and stressed for months leading up to quitting your career and moving back home, but now that it’s done and you’re here, you feel as though you get a little bit of breathing room.

You still have the matter of getting a new job, which Jinah will be helping you with, and eventually, you need to figure out where you’ll move after you’re back on your feet since you don’t plan on making staying with your brother permanent, but for now, the biggest hurdle of moving back across the globe has been crossed.

After your shower, you make note of how your stomach growls, but decide to get a little unpacking done first. You already know that if you don’t at least start, your suitcases may sit in this room for days until you have the willpower to put things away. After digging your discman out of your backpack, you pop in an Aaliyah CD and get to work.

You only get as far as folding your underwear and bras and putting those in the dresser before you’re stretching out on the bed and telling yourself you’ll only close your eyes for a moment before resuming.

Your head feels groggy when you open your eyes, sit up, and take in your surroundings. For a moment, you forget where you are, until you remember you’re in your new room in Seoul. Sun shines through the curtains covering your window and you spot your discman on the nightstand next to your head.

When you poke your head out of your room, you can hear soft sounds from the TV in the living room, but before you investigate, you take a detour to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“Look who’s returned to the land of the living!” Hansol greets you when you finally make your way into the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, watching a variety show, but quickly gets up to pull you into a hug.

“Hey, Sol. What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“In the morning?!” You blink at the window with the curtains drawn open, frowning at the sunlight coming into the room. “I got in at noon yesterday!”

Hansol chuckles as you plop onto the couch next to him. “Yep. I tried to wake you when I got home yesterday, but you just grumbled at me and turned back over. I put your discman on the nightstand so you wouldn’t knock it off or anything so you’re welcome.”

“Damn, guess I was just that tired.”

“Yeah, Chan tried to get you up too, but you didn’t budge. He brought dinner home but not even food could get you up.” Hansol laughs, thankfully not noticing the way his words fluster you. The thought of Chan seeing you sprawled out on your bed, mouth likely open as you slept is embarrassing. You quickly have to remind yourself that he is your roommate so he’s bound to see you sleeping and to get over it.

“That explains why it feels like there’s a gaping hole in the pit of my stomach.”

“Don’t worry, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge for you. And I’m sure there’s some other stuff to tide you over until later.”

“Where’s Chan now?”

“Work. Same place I’m about to go. It’s my turn for dinner tonight so I’ll bring chicken home with me.”

“Ugh, I haven’t had good fried chicken since I was in the States and we landed in Atlanta, Georgia for a while.”

“I got you. There’s a really good place not far from the apartment.”

“You’re the best, Sol.”

“I know,” your brother boasts, getting off the couch to stretch.

“Oh! Mom called last night for you. She’s pissed you didn’t call her when you got here.”

Letting out a groan, you roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. I just didn’t have it in me to listen to her tell me a story that I’ve probably already heard ten times. I’ll call her later after I finish unpacking. I already know she’s gonna want me to come over.”

“Oh, she does. She wants us both over tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! She didn’t even ask if that works!”

“She didn’t, but that’s because she knows I’m off work tomorrow and in her words, ‘it’s not like your sister has any obligations yet, so you can come over close to lunch.’”

Hansol’s recounting of your mom’s words forces another eye roll out of you, but you’ll both be there and you already know it.

“I’m running to the bathroom then I’ll get ready to head out. Here, have fun.” He hands you the TV remote before disappearing into the bathroom.

Before you can get comfortable, you pull your tired body from the couch to grab leftovers and eat before your mom calls again, inevitably nagging you about not calling her earlier.

As expected when you settle back down to call, your mom picks up the phone on the first ring and spends the next ten minutes chastising you for not calling her when you landed. You apologize multiple times, assuring her that both you and Hansol will visit her tomorrow.

Also as expected she talks your ear off for about twenty minutes, giving you updates that you know she’ll tell you about again tomorrow. Thankfully, the mailman shows up in the middle of another story about the neighbor she’s been having a holiday decoration war with for the last three years in a row so she lets you go, saying she’s happy to see you tomorrow.

Jinah is next on your call list and she also picks up after a few rings, cheering as soon as she hears your voice, celebrating your arrival in Seoul.

“I’m so happy we’re in the same timezone again!”

“Me too. I don’t even remember the last time we got to sit and chat.”

“I want to say it was when we were both in Spain last year. You had that day-long layover and I was out there for Fashion Week.”

“Oh, you’re right! You met that guy at that mall we went to.”

“Mmm, Ricky! He was so sweet. He still calls me sometimes. I don’t always answer, but he tries.” Jinah giggles, no doubt at some memory of her and the model she easily picked up that day.

She shifts around on the other line. “Oh damn, as much as I want to catch up with you babe, I’m about to head out for a meeting. Can we meet up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if you can do it late in the afternoon? My mom wants me and Hansol to come over tomorrow. She already chewed my head off for not calling her when I got in.”

“Oh, Mrs. Chwe. Well, after you’re done with family time, let’s meet up! There’s a new bakery that opened in Hongdae that I haven’t tried yet. We can go together since it’s not too far from your parents’ place.”

“Please! I am craving a croissant actually.” Jinah tells you the address which you quickly write down, agreeing to meet tomorrow afternoon.

With that call over, you decide to finally bite the bullet and finish unpacking your things so you can stop thinking about it. It doesn’t take very long, seeing how your whole life was packed away in two suitcases, a backpack, and a purse. You make a mental note to do some decoration shopping for your room once you have the funds and decide to reward yourself with TV time.

You didn’t get to catch up on many shows always being on the go, so you plan to spend your time now getting in the know and watching as many reruns as you can catch. Among other things, not being in the sky for 90% of your time will offer you the opportunity to take things much slower. You’re used to always either being on a plane, spending a few nights in hotels or short-term rental places, or rushing between all of these destinations, so you plan on doing the complete opposite with your new schedule now.

You’re stretched out on the couch, enjoying an episode of one of the new dramas everyone around you has mentioned when you fall asleep again, your eyelids unable to concentrate for long.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you feel yourself being slightly shaken, your eyes cracking open to see Chan staring down at you. When your eyes finally adjust you get a better look at him and note how handsome he looks in his leather jacket and beanie. Why is that even the first thing you thought?

“Hey, sleepyhead. We’re home and we have dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, fried chicken!” You sit up, groggily rubbing your eyes and you see Hansol coming into the living room, bag in hand.

You step away to freshen up, fixing your hair and splashing some water on your face. Your brother and Chan have already set up the chicken and beer on the coffee table, taking their seats on the floor around the table as Hansol flips through TV channels.

Plopping on the floor across from Chan, Hansol pulls a can of soda out of the bag next to you, sliding it over your way. You eagerly open it, thanking him for remembering your lack of enthusiasm about drinking, and grab a piece of chicken.

“So, Y/n,” Chan starts, his full attention on you. “What brought you back to Seoul? When we talked about you moving in, Hansol told me you wanted to quit and move home, but I didn’t ask why.”

“I was just ready for something more stable, is all. Traveling the world is fun and I didn’t hate my job - I met a ton of new and interesting people - but at some point, I just got tired of never having a true place that is mine. I mean, I’ve been doing this since I was twenty. There are only so many hotels and rental places a person can do until they get tired of the constant movement.”

“That makes sense. When I went abroad during my first year of college I got super homesick so I ended up coming back. Some of our friends said I was lame for coming back, but I don’t know, I’ve always loved Korea you know? It’s where I grew up and I feel safe and secure here. I guess I just needed time away to decide what I wanted to do.”

You nod along, understanding what he means. You didn’t know too much about Chan after you graduated and left Korea, so it was nice to learn a little more about him.

“I get that, I mean we see I’m back now after all these years. Some people just gravitate back to where they came from.”

“Yeah, I was just surprised when Hansol mentioned you coming back. I remember you being so excited after graduation because you knew what you wanted to do already and I know you just wanted to see something else other than here.” Chan smiles at you gently. The fact that he remembers how you were feeling after graduation is sweet to you.

“I was excited and I don’t regret what I chose to do. It was fun but ended up not being my end-all-be-all, which is okay. But anyway, enough about me! Hansol told me that you own a dance studio?”

“Oh, yeah. I took over my dad’s dance studio. He’s still around, but I own it. We’re talking about expanding and making it an actual dance company. People from all over Korea come to the studio, so if we can find more spaces and good instructors we can open another here and even abroad.”

“That’s amazing, Chan! You always loved to dance. I’m glad you’re able to do it full-time.” The tips of Chan’s ears redden at your compliment and he takes a long swig of his beer.

“Thanks, Y/n.”

“Of course. I only hope that now that I’m back I can find the next thing that I want to do. My friend Jinah, I don’t know if you guys remember her, but she’s going to get me a job at the modeling agency she works at. It’ll probably just be something in the office until I find something else or figure out my next move.”

“Well, you’ve always been really smart and ambitious so I’m sure you’ll find something you’re good at now that you’re back.”

“Thank you, Chan.” You feel your face heat up at his words.

The two of you seem to share a moment where you both glance down at your food, then back up at each other every few minutes.

Hansol suddenly clears his throat as if reminding you both that he’s sitting right in between you.

“Things at my job are going well thanks for asking.”

You both snap out of whatever that moment was and recover by asking Hansol how he likes his new responsibilities, recalling the raise he got recently at work. Hansol’s worked for the same newspaper company for the past four years and you know he’s done his best to gain a good reputation at the company and that he works hard.

You do your best to avoid the questioning look he’s passing between the two of you and instead take a big bite of the chicken wing in front of you.

“It’s good. I write movie reviews now which is cool. I get to see a bunch of movies that come out before the general public for free. It’s much better than the random articles they had me working on before this promotion.”

“I’m proud of you, Sol.” You reach over to ruffle his hair with the hand not touching your food, ignoring the groan he lets out at the action. “Maybe one day you can bring your big sister to one of these early movie showings?”

“Tch, good luck. He won’t even bring me,” Chan mumbles, taking another sip of beer.

“I’m watching movies for work, thank you very much.” Hansol rolls his eyes at the way that Chan sticks his tongue out at him playfully. “Speaking of work, Y/n, make sure you let me know soon if Jinah can’t get you into her company. We have some openings that popped up recently and I’m sure I can get you in if you need it.”

“I will. We’re gonna hang out tomorrow after we see Mom and Dad and I’ll ask her more about it then.”

The three of you spend the rest of dinner watching TV and spend more time catching up. Hansol talks about some upcoming articles he has to work on, Chan goes over more plans for expanding his father’s dance studio, and the men both question you about all the places you’ve traveled to and everything you did as a flight attendant.

After dinner, you help clean up the trash before deciding to go to bed. Your internal clock is still readjusting to a semi-normal schedule, so you need at least a few more days before you can stay up later than 9 PM.

“Goodnight, guys,” You wave at the boys, heading down the hall into your room. You’ll take a shower in the morning - for now, you just want to rest.

Once you’re in your room, the door shut, Hansol eyes Chan as the man casts a few glimpses down the hall. He chuckles, getting his best friend’s attention.

“What?”

“Your crush is still showing, you know.”

Frowning, Chan looks between Hansol and the hallway before fixing his gaze on the TV.

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

Hansol scoffs at him but drops it. He knows Chan well enough to know when he’s lying through his teeth, but he won’t press it.

“Whatever you say, dude.” Hansol shrugs, announcing that he’s going to get ready for bed too. Chan stays in the living room, staring at the TV for a little while longer, but not taking in the show.

All he can think about is the fact that he is very much still into you and he’s never actually stopped. When Hansol brought up you moving in with them, he had no problem with it. You’re his best friend’s sister who needs help, of course, he wouldn’t say no. Chan figured that it would be nice to get to know you more as an adult since all of the knowledge he has of you is the person you were from middle school to high school and the things he hears Hansol or the Chwes say about what you are doing or where you are.

He knew it would be nice to catch up and spend time with you because you’ve always gotten along and you were always nice to him. He hadn’t expected his decade-old crush to creep back into his heart the moment he laid eyes on you, but it did. Chan doesn’t know what to do with these feelings so for now, he’ll squash them down the same way he has since he was ten. He’s more than used to it by now.

“My Y/n!”

It’s the first thing out of your mom’s mouth when she opens the front door, sweeping you up into a hug. She rocks you back and forth telling you how much she missed you.

“Wow, she never hugs me like that,” Hansol murmurs behind you as he steps inside and starts taking his shoes off.

“Oh, hush Sollie! I saw you two weeks ago. I haven’t seen your sister in two years!”

She does end up reaching over to pull Hansol into a hug of his own, once she decides you can breathe again. Your stepdad follows a minute after, hugging you for a much more normal amount of time, but also makes sure to let you know he’s personally offended that you haven’t been home in so long.

As anticipated, your mom has a full spread of food waiting on the table and ushers you and Hansol to sit and eat. Also as expected, she gives you the third degree, wanting to know about your work, your plans, and everything in between, which includes your nonexistent love life. You appease her and keep it short and simple: you’re hearing from Jinah soon about a position, you plan on doing that for at least the next year or two to save up enough money to move into a place of your own, and you’re single and have been for months.

This turns into an almost two-hour visit. If your parents aren’t asking you about your travels or asking Hansol about his job, they’re circling back to you and the fact that ‘now that you’re home and getting situated, you can think about eventually settling down. Since you’re almost thirty.’

You keep to yourself that you have had pretty lackluster luck when it comes to dating overall, but your mom still finds opportunities to sprinkle in that she could ask around to her friends about whose sons may be single, and you tell her you don’t need the help (even though you know she’ll likely do it anyway).

Eventually, you manage to get your parents to talk about themselves and get them to update you on things in the house they’re fixing up, how your dad is doing at work, and some new crochet projects your mom is working on.

Even though they can smother you at times, you know they both do what they do out of love - especially your mom. You did miss your parents at the end of the day and they mean well. They love you and Hansol and have missed you terribly - the latter a fact that your mom made sure to reiterate over and over again.

Before you leave, your mom repeats how happy she is that you’re back home, especially in time for the holidays, and truthfully, so are you. You love holidays because you love decorating and you love all of the themed things that come with holidays. Hansol mentions that he and Chan have never really worried about decorating their apartment, which you immediately informed him will change this year. You plan on decorating the apartment for Halloween and will turn it into a winter wonderland come November. Your brother knows you well enough not to argue and simply laughs, shrugging and telling you to go crazy.

After you finally manage to escape from your parents’ house, you and Hansol split up. He’s going to meet up with some friends and will meet you at home later, he says. You take a cab for the short ride to the coffee shop you and Jinah are meeting at and you notice you’ve arrived first when you don’t see anyone that resembles her.

You’ve only sat down for less than a minute when she sweeps into the shop with her long coat, big sunglasses, and beanie. She slips the sunglasses down her nose and peers around before meeting your eyes. A smile breaks out across her red-painted lips and she rushes over to you. She looks as pretty as she did growing up and it warms your heart. It makes complete sense that she’s such a prolific model now.

“Y/n!” She says your name when making it to the table and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, Jinah! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too! It’s been too long and I hate it.” She pouts at you as she moves to her seat, shedding her coat, and hanging it on the back of her chair.

“I know, I know. But I’m here now.”

“You are and you’re gonna get sick of seeing me so much! Especially, if you get a spot at the company! I’m still waiting for my boss to get back to me about your resume.”

“Ugh, I hope it’s soon. I’m not picky about what’s open honestly, I just need something.”

“Well you know I’ll call you as soon as I get some info. I’m sure they’ll hire you. I’m noted as your referral and everyone loves me there!”

Before you dive into more chit chat, you pause the conversation, wanting to order coffee. Jinah takes your order and goes to the counter herself, quickly coming back with two hot cups of caffeine.

“Okay, so no more work talk. How is it living with a couple of twenty-something boys after jetsetting all around the world?”

“Not so bad really. The apartment is surprisingly clean and put together. Me and Hansol have always been close, you know so it’s good so far. And Chan is cool - we’ve always gotten along. He was always around growing up so I’m used to having him in my space anyway. He’s different now of course, but uh, yeah you know.”

You stumble, just slightly on your last sentence and something flashes in Jinah’s eyes, her perfectly waxed brows rising almost immediately. You forgot about the fact that no matter how long you two spend apart, she’s still your best friend and she knows you almost as well as she knows herself.

“He’s different?” There’s a tilt in her voice that you don’t recall having in your words.

“I didn’t say it like that!”

“Yes, the hell you did! He’s different how? All I remember about your brother’s best friend is some skinny, big-headed kid that followed us around at school and whenever I was over your house.”

You bite your lip, assessing Jinah and if there’s any way you can steer the conversation elsewhere.

No such luck arrives for you though as she sits there, unwavering as she patiently waits for you to tell her the truth. You already know she won’t leave it alone if you don’t.

Begrudgingly, you give in, letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine, whatever, he’s fucking hot now, okay?! I’ve only been there like three days and any time I run into him he’s nothing but polite and considerate. He’s always been nice but he’s mature now. It’s just so different.”

“Hmph. So, you think he’s mature and polite and hot now? Got it.” She nods, taking a sip of her coffee, and swallowing slowly before speaking. “So do you think you’ll finally give him a chance?”

“Absolutely not! He’s younger than me and not only my brother’s best fucking friend but we’re roommates now. The level of messiness went from 80% to 180% if something goes wrong between us.”

“Yeah, but the chances of things going well also go from 80% to 180% too, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“But you’re both adults! What does it matter? Do you think Hansol will care?”

“I don’t know. But again, the main problem is if Chan and I only end up being a hookup or one of us wants something that the other doesn’t then living with the man will be incredibly awkward, and once again, he and my brother are best friends. Things won’t only be awkward for us, but I don’t want to drag Sol into that mess either. So it’s in everyone’s best interest that I keep my mouth and my legs closed and don’t even think about trying anything with Chan.”

Jinah hums and clearly disagrees but she doesn’t press it. Not that she has to because just like she knows you, you know her, and you know she has so many objections rattling around in her head.

“Anyway, time to hear about you! Tell me about your love life! Is it busy? Are you seeing anyone? Are you sleeping with anyone? I want to know everything about Im Jinah’s romantic endeavors.”

Your best friend clicks her tongue at you, noticing the obvious conversation redirect, but she obliges. She talks about a guy she’s mentioned to you before that she works with that she’s been on a few dates with. As an aside, she mentions that there are plenty of hot, single people at her company that you’ll run into, but you wave that part off.

She mentions that she needs to go shopping this upcoming weekend for a Halloween costume for a party a friend of hers is throwing at the end of October. She also addsthat you too, will be going to said party with her.

“I am?”

“You are. So, this weekend we’ll be getting costumes. A guy I’ve done a ton of ads and shoots with has a party every year and you’ll be my plus one! He’s super nice and pretty wealthy so his place is really nice.”

You do love Halloween and you haven’t really gotten to do much to celebrate it the last handful of years, so you agree to go, even though you knew she would’ve hounded you about going for days anyway. You saved both of you some trouble.

On the topic of Christmas, the two of you get caught up in talking about needing to figure out what to get people and when to go shopping to get ahead of it. You easily fall into conversation with your best friend, your subject changing every few minutes as you laugh and properly get caught up until you’ve both got two empty coffee cups each.

Eventually, Jinah glances at her watch and curses.

“Damn, I’ve got another meeting to run to. My manager and I have been meeting with a few magazines for some last-minute holiday ads they want to shoot for. “I’ll be sure to badger her about any news on your resume okay?”

You and Jinah exchange your goodbyes and you promise to chat in a few days if you don’t hear from her sooner. Even though she’s busy, she cites she’ll still be sure to make time for the two of you to hang out more. You both walk out of the shop together and with a goodbye hug, you both go your separate ways. Her to grab a taxi and you to the train station to head back home.

Chan really thought he was done with big life revelations. His last and biggest was deciding that college and a traditional degree weren’t what he wanted. After that, a bunch of smaller decisions hit him but no combination of realizations, big or small, could’ve prepared him for the fact that he’s still hopelessly in love with the same girl for the last almost fifteen years.

But seeing you again was like someone doused him with a gallon of cold water to the face. Shocking and jarring and nothing could’ve prepared him. Not for the way his eyes almost bugged out of his head upon seeing you again after what felt like far too long or the way his palms got sweaty just being close to you, even though he had just finished a shower before seeing you.

Chan was so sure that he was over you. He’s had plenty of partners over the years. Some serious and some not so much, but he doesn’t think he’s ever compared any of those people to you. It’s been years so surely he isn’t still hung up on his best friend’s older sister.

Unfortunately for him, that is exactly what he is and he’s not sure what to do with this information. A tiny voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him he’s a loser for not being over his childhood crush who has never reciprocated the feelings anyway. Never once have you made any indication that you thought of Chan the same, so it’s not as though you’re going to magically do it now…right?

His mind is so wrapped up in you that he keeps fumbling with the moves he practices at work in preparation for a dance class in a few days. He lets out another frustrated huff as he watches himself in the mirror trip over his feet yet again.

Chan’s close friend and co-choreographer at the studio walks over to the boombox at the side of the room, cutting off the music and staring him down.

“Okay, where’s your head, Chan?” Soonyoung looks at him pointedly. “You’ve been distracted since you get here and keep fucking up.” He waits for an answer, hands on his hips.

Chan hesitates for a moment, wondering if he wants to repeat his early years - where he would tell anyone who would listen that he was in love with Y/n Chwe. This is different though, this is his friend checking on him so he decides to tell Soonyoung.

“The girl I’ve loved since I was ten is back in town.”

“Okay?”

“And I still love her.”

“And? You’re both adults now so you can do something about it right?”

“And she’s living with me. We’re roommates now.”

“And?” Soonyoung rolls his eyes, still not seeing too much of an issue with this.

“She, uh, she’s Hansol’s sister.”

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side in thought. “Okay…well what’s the problem? Hansol is super chill. Do you think he’ll be mad about it?”

“I don’t know. I know Hansol more than almost anybody, but for some reason, I’m still really stressed about how he’ll react.”

“You could always ask him?” Soonyoung tries, offering Chan a bottle of water from the cooler across the room.

“I don’t know. I mean, even if I do and he’s okay with it, what if I ask her out and she says no? She had never liked me like that when we were young. I was always just her brother’s snot-nosed best friend.”

“I get being worried about that, but you’re grown now. Maybe things can be different?”

“Yeah, but if she turns me down, I don’t want to make things awkward for us all living together. And even if I am in some bizarre universe where she is into me too, I could very well fuck this up and she’ll want nothing to do with me and we’ll break up and it’ll still be awkward and then Hansol could not want to be my friend anymore or want me to move out and then what?” Chan ends his rant with a grunt, sliding against the mirror until he plops onto the hardwood floor. Soonyoung comes over and joins him, sitting cross-legged next to his friend.

“This has really been on your mind huh?”

“Hard for it not to be when she is as beautiful as always and sleeping in the room right next to me now.”

“Well, even though I’ve never been through something like this, my advice? Maybe try to just take it slow. Hang out with her more, test the waters, and see if she reciprocates. If so, then either keep getting closer or ask her out and go from there. What’s the point in constant what-ifs you know? Maybe you’re getting a second chance now that you’re both adults and in good places in your life. And sure you might fuck it up, but you also might not. You’ll never know if you don’t try.” Soonyoung shrugs, taking a gulp of water.

Chan side-eyes his friend, genuinely surprised at his words.

“Since when did you turn into a relationship expert with actual good advice?”

Soonyoung chokes on his water, coughing loudly to recover. “What do you mean actual good advice?! I give good advice all the time!”

“Tsk, just like that so-called, good advice you gave me that one time we went to the club and you told me I should start a dance battle with that girl that was flirting with me?”

The man looks genuinely offended, hand flying to his chest in surprise.

“First of all, I was drunk! Second of all, that was a good idea. She said she liked dancers!”

“Yeah, but I think she meant slow, sensual dancing like we had been doing all night before you swooped in with your so-called, good advice.”

“Whatever! Don’t take my advice and pine over this woman for another decade. Just decide so you can stop fucking up this dance!” Soonyoung pushes him over, making him land on his side, but the push is more playful than anything.

While Soonyoung may not have a great track record of steering Chan in the right direction, he mulls it over for the rest of the day after getting back to practicing. He ultimately decides that maybe Soonyoung is right. He won’t do anything weird or out of the ordinary. He’ll just be himself and try to spend more time with you and hopefully be able to show you the real him. The him that’s a mid-twenties career man with a plan and a future, who’s much more mature than from when you used to know him.

If he’s lucky, he won’t make a fool out of himself and if you’re not into him still, you’ll at least let him down gently. If he’s super lucky, you’ll feel the same way about him and he’ll finally get to call you his.

He’s not going to hold his breath, but he’ll regret it once again if he doesn’t at least try with you, unlike he failed to do when he was young and dumb.

Getting the call three days later from Jinah that you got a job at her agency was the best news you’ve gotten in a very long time. Her boss manages to get you a role in their travel department. You’d be working with the assistants of the models to help get their travel booked, manage their transportation, and help arrange all things travel related. While you don’t have any office experience, your flight attendant experience seems to be enough to get you into the role and you weren’t about to argue with that.

As soon as you start, you consider yourself lucky that you seem to fall into the team you’re on easily. It’s not difficult to get comfortable and find your place which makes getting settled all that much simpler. Plus, the pay is decent, and even a little more than what you previously made, so you can’t complain about that.

Jinah uses the Halloween party she told you about as an excuse to go out with you again and an excuse to celebrate your job. Hansol and Chan had already gotten you a small cake to celebrate which was extremely sweet, so you don’t mind celebrating with Jinah.

The cake, you learn in passing from Hansol, was Chan’s idea. It’s only one thing on the long list of ways that Chan has succeeded in getting closer to you over the weeks that it takes you to get settled in. You’ve spent time with Chan as a kid when he was around all the time, but you really get the chance to know him now that you’re adults living together.

You learn most, if not all of his likes and dislikes. His favorite colors, favorite foods, movies he likes, and celebrities he can’t stand (his one-sided rivalry with Lee Byunghun is especially funny to you since he also compliments his acting whenever one of his movies is on). He’s constantly making you laugh, always asking how your day was when you see each other in the evenings, and he always says good morning and asks how you slept when you get up for the day. On nights when he has to get dinner for you all, he always asks if there’s any food you're craving because he promises he’ll pick it up or make it (and he always does every time).

On the weekends, when you’re home relaxing and sleeping in, and if he works, he has started to call home often and ask if you need him to grab anything on the way home, be it medicine, food, a video rental, or anything in between. Chan makes it a habit to check in with you even more than your brother, which Hansol calls out one night over dinner. Chan’s cheeks go red and he throws a wayward shrimp at his best friend but doesn’t deny it, citing that he just wants to help you be comfortable.

If he isn’t checking on you or buying you small things, he’s making sure your laundry is washed if he’s doing his and that your favorite mug (the yellow one with the fried eggs print all over it) is always washed. He makes sure your favorite snacks are in the apartment and that you’re never without anything you need - even finding out your preferred brand of tampons and pads and wordlessly getting them for you.

By the time the end of October rolls around, you’ve been living with Chan and your brother for a month and your feelings for Chan are only growing, much to your utter dismay. You don’t want to like him, for the multitude of reasons you’ve already outlined in your head and to Jinah, but he makes it damn near impossible. If he’s not being the most sweet and polite man you’ve ever been around, he’s walking around the apartment shirtless from time to time or coming back from the gym or work sweaty and flushed with his arms on display.

He constantly treats you like a true gentleman would, carrying groceries for you and doing any heavy lifting around the apartment that comes up. It may be the bare minimum, but Chan treats you better as someone you’re not dating than anyone you actually have dated. You’re in a constant battle between your coochie and your heart about your array of feelings for Lee Chan and it’s only serving to drive you crazier each day.

On the night of Halloween, when Jinah is in your room with you getting ready for her friend’s party, she teases that Chan may not be able to hold himself back when he sees you.

“I don’t know, Y/n. Your ass does look really good in this jumpsuit.” You admire your figure in your mirror, admiring how the soft yet clingy fabric does, in fact, do your ass justice.

You and Jinah decided to go with a theme for your costumes. She’s going as an angel, complete with a white mini-dress, wings, and a halo. You went with a devil, the red, clingy jumpsuit you wear hugs every part of your body that you’d wanna show off and the zipper in the front is open just enough to accentuate your cleavage. The horns attached to the headband on your head sit comfortably and are the finishing touch.

Yes, you’re not supposed to want Chan to like you because it’ll make it that much harder for you, but you don’t mind the idea of him looking.

“Ready?” You ask when you’re finally done with your makeup, making sure your red lipstick is perfect.

“Yep! Let me call a car for us!” You and Jinah leave your room and she fishes her Nokia from her white bag.

When you step into the living room, you nearly trip over your feet upon seeing Chan lounging on the couch, flipping through TV channels. You know he and Hansol are also going out tonight to their friend Junhui’s Halloween party, but you hadn’t discussed your costumes.

His black t-shirt is as tight as your jumpsuit is and displays every muscle and ripple in his arms and chest and you even swear you can make out the faint outline of his abs. The black pants he wears are baggy since he’s dressed as a firefighter, but the fabric stretches over his thighs as he spreads his legs, and the suspenders that keep those pants up stir something feral within you. It takes every ounce of willpower not to go over and mount yourself in his lap right then and there.

Chan notices you both come in and hurries to sit up, making room on the couch for you. He seems to take notice of your costume and you watch as his eyes sweep over you from head to toe, unabashed and almost forgetting (or uncaring) that you can see him checking you out.

“Hey! You, uh, you look amazing.” He blurts, eyes still locked onto you. Jinah clears her voice from next to you and Chan seems to then remember that someone else is in the room. “Er, ah, you both do!” He adds, eyes flickering to your best friend who just snorts.

“Thanks, Chan. Our ride is here though, so I do have to steal her away now.”

“Ah, okay. Sure. I’ll see you later tonight, Y/n. Have fun and you both stay safe, okay?”

You nod, telling him to do the same. You catch sight of your brother as you and Jinah are on your way to the door. His Ghostface robe drags on the carpet as he comes down the hall.

Once you and Jinah slide into the car, and she gives the driver the address, she gives you a look.

“Don’t,” you say, stopping her before she can say what you already know she will.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what? That Chan got real-time tunnel vision checking you out in your costume and that he forgot I was even in the room.”

“Yes, that! Don’t say that!”

She shrugs, reaching into her bag and pulling out her compact to check her reflection.

“Okay. I won’t say it. I don’t really need to since you know.”

You did, of course, you did. You could feel the heat in his gaze when he looked at you, but you remind yourself that you can’t do anything more than look. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone at this party can distract you.

Truth be told, when you longed for someone at this party to distract you from Chan, you were only putting it into the universe and just keeping your fingers crossed. You didn’t think you’d actually find someone else to catch your interest. You didn’t anticipate that Jinah’s model friend that owns the large, expertly decorated house would take an interest in you, and yet he did the moment you met him.

“Minhyuk, this is my best friend, Y/n! Y/n, this is Lee Minhyuk. Y/n just moved back to Seoul after traveling for work.”

Minhyuk wastes no time in bowing to you before grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on the top of it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. Any friend of Jinah is a friend of mine.” The handsome man smiles widely at you, making you swoon on the spot. “Especially a friend as stunning as you.”

One look at this buff, beautiful man with perfect hair, perfect teeth, and a perfect face and you’re not surprised in the slightest that he’s a model. You’re sure he can get any woman that he wants and that his charms work on anyone he flashes a brilliant smile to. You’re annoyed that he’s having the same effect on you the more he talks to you and stays by your side for the first hour of the party. You chalk it up to having been single for so long and on your repressed desire for Chan, but you let Minhyuk flirt with you and drape his arm over your shoulder as he asks you about your flight attendant days.

Jinah stays with you both for a while after introducing you, but when it seems obvious that Minhyuk is making heart eyes at you, she excuses the two of you momentarily, pulling you aside.

“Hey, are you okay?!” She says as best as she can in your ear. The music from the sound system in the next room is quieter in the dining room you’re standing in, but is still turned up to a booming volume.

“Yeah, I’m good!”

“You sure? He’s hitting on you pretty hard. He’s a good guy but say the word and we’re out of here.” You mull your next words and decisions over, ultimately deciding to stay and see where things go with Minhyuk. You had asked the universe for a distraction on your way and here it is so why pass it up?

“I’m sure. If I need you or want out, I’ll tell you.” Jinah gives you another firm look before relenting and going with you back to Minhyuk’s side.

An hour later Minhyuk offers to show you around his house. Jinah stares at you, trying to gauge your reaction. You’re sure this will end up with the two of you somewhere in this house, presumably naked, but you decide that’s exactly what you need.

Minhyuk keeps his arm draped over your shoulders as she gives you a tour of his house, avoiding all of the drunken party goers and horny couples making out as you go. Almost every room in his house has people packed into it. His den, his game room, his second living room, and all four of his guest rooms. The only room that has no one else in it is his bedroom which is where you ultimately end up.

“Your house is very fancy,” you compliment, looking around his bedroom. The bed is bigger than even some of the hotel beds you’ve slept in. The duvet is soft under your palms as you sit on the edge and lean back on your hands. Art hangs on the walls and he has two dressers that you can see. You can’t see into the bathroom across the room, but the tub you catch sight of has to be able to fit at least four people.

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it. How’s the bed?” Minhyuk smirks at you from across the room, leaning against a tall dresser. The scrubs of his doctor costume are standard, save for the fact that the top is sleeveless. He crosses his arms and you see how every muscle flexes and twitches under his tan skin

“Mmm, it’s pretty soft. Your duvet is nice.” You cross and uncross your legs, watching as the model follows your movements with his eyes.

“Yeah? The sheets are even better.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yeah. They’re real silk. And temperature controlled so they’re the perfect coolness and won’t make you hot.” As he speaks he stalks towards you, tossing aside the surgical mask that has been hanging under his chin since you met him.

“Oh? They sound expensive.”

“They are. And they feel like a cloud. Wanna feel them?” Minhyuk is standing in front of you now, his knee resting against the edge of the bed between your legs, waiting for your next words.

You don’t leave him waiting for long, as you breathe out an “I’d love to,” and he immediately bends forward, hands grabbing your face to pull you into a heated kiss. Your hands reach out to grasp at his arms, nails lightly digging into the firm flesh.

Minhyuk grunts into your mouth, fully climbing onto the bed to hover over your body. One hand stays on your cheek while the other travels down your body, grabbing and squeezing as he settles on your hip.

His tongue slips into your mouth when you separate your lips to take in a breath. Your bodies move together as you shuffle backward up the bed a little, giving him more room to drape his body over yours and kneel between your legs. He presses his pelvis forward, the movement causing him to brush against you, the clothed tip of his hardening length grazing your crotch.

The sensation makes him groan and pause for a moment, his tongue and body stilling. A jolt of confidence rushes over you, making you shift underneath him and flip him onto his side. You quickly push him all the way onto his back and crawl into his lap.

“Mmm maybe I like this view more than you under me,” he mumbles, admiring the new position. He only gets a moment to take it in before you’re leaning down to kiss him again, your fingers brushing through his dark hair. Minhyuk’s hands move down your back to grip your ass.

Your make out session lasts for a few minutes, your mind finally slipping away from everything else that has been tumbling around in your brain. At some point, Minhyuk pulls away with a gasp and quickly peels his top off, tossing it aside before leaning back and letting you ogle him.

Your mouth drops at the sight of him, all chiseled muscle and rippling abs. You gawk for only a moment before your brain decides to remind you of the way that Chan looks without a shirt. He’s also muscular but in a much softer way. Chan’s abs are lightly defined and his pecs are still visible. You also always find your way back to thinking of that day when he had just gotten out of the shower, of the small happy trail that runs down, down, down to where you can’t see. You wonder how soft that dusting of hair is.

Minhyuk momentarily pushes away your Chan imagery when he reaches up to grab your face to pull you back down to kiss him again. Your hands stretch out to steady yourself, finding purchase on his biceps. The hard muscles twitch under your fingers and you squeeze in return. Immediately, you’re reminded of how soft Chan’s biceps and arms are.

A week ago the two of you had run into each other in the hallway of the apartment. You were leaving when he was rounding the corner, coming back from the gym. He had a tank top on and when he appeared in front of you, you both jumped, yelping in surprise. You had reached your hands out by instinct, with the intention of doing what you’re not sure, but when you noticed it was Chan at the last minute your hands unfurled from fists and gripped his arms to steady yourself.

His arms were built, but still so soft and smooth under your hands. That feeling has stayed with you even now as you think about Chan and his arms while another man is kissing your neck.

All of a sudden, you wonder what it would feel like if Chan was the one that was under you and if he was the one whose lips were pressing kisses on your throat instead.

Minhyuk’s fingers walk their way to the front of your jumpsuit and he flicks at the zipper that keeps your outfit secure. Before he has a chance to unzip it, his bedroom door bursts open and a woman stands in the doorway, yelling his name angrily.

The intrusion makes you jump, jerking too far back and toppling backward onto the floor.

“Shit, Y/n! You okay?!” Minhyuk jumps up and offers you his hand, being nice enough to at least check on you.

“Minhyuk, what the fuck?!” The woman screeches again, stomping over to him and shoving his chest. “I’ve been walking around this stupid party looking for you for like half an hour! You invited me tonight just to run off and fuck someone else?!”

“Hyoseong, I’m sorry, I-” Hyoseong cuts him off by shoving him backward, making him lose his balance and fall back onto the bed. He’s too close to the corner of the bed though, because he keeps going and falls back off the side, yelping the whole time.

Hyoseong smirks, satisfied as she watches him before turning her gaze to you still standing there awkwardly. The flame in her eyes diminishes and is replaced with concern.

“He’s not worth it, I promise. All he knows how to do is fuck every girl he looks at and lead you on!” She screams that last part at him before turning and storming back out of the room.

Embarrassment is written all over Minhyuk’s face as he scrambles up and gives you a sheepish smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but you speak first.

“Don’t even try it.” You stick your palm out at him, stopping him from responding.

He listens, not saying anything as you leave the room and beeline back downstairs in search of Jinah. You find her in the kitchen talking to a few other girls and when she sees you, she immediately rushes over to you, worry written all over her face. You reassure her that you’re okay and tell her about Hyoseong and she gasps.

“Fuck, I thought they broke up! Ugh, Y/n, I’m so sorry. I’ll go kick his ass right now!” She looks over your shoulder for him, but you stop her. This is clearly a story you’ll have to ask her about on another day. Right now, all you want to do is go home, shower, and flop into bed.

She doesn’t let you convince her to stay and have fun and is already calling a car for you both. You ride together and you tell her what was going through your head when you were hooking up with Minhyuk and she just nods, letting you pour out your garbled thoughts.

Of course, her response is to act on these feelings, but you quickly shut that down, reminding her of the list of reasons that you cannot act on said feelings. As she’s gotten accustomed to doing, she rolls her eyes and tells you that you’re thinking too much into this.

The conversation dies when you pull up at home, thanking her for the ride and hurrying out before she can keep bringing it up.

Chan is fucked. That’s all he thinks when he and Hansol get to Junhui’s party. Ever since you left, all that his brain plays on a loop is you in that red jumpsuit. It is long sleeved and the bottom of the pants are flared, but the fabric hugs you in every way imaginable. The only things he wanted to look at was the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and the way it framed your ass as you left.

He knows that the image of you in that costume is all he’ll think about for not only the rest of the night but quite possibly for the rest of his life. He did his very best not to make it obvious he was checking you out, but in his defense, he swears he also saw your eyes stay too long on his chest and his thighs.

As the month has ticked by living with you, Chan has only fallen for you even more than he thought was possible. Everything you do and say makes his heart race. Every time he sees you, he wants to hold and kiss you, no matter what time of day it is. You look just as beautiful waking up as you do going to sleep.

He’s whipped and he hasn’t even told you that he’s still in love with you.

He knows he only has eyes for you because he spends the first hour of the party talking with his friends and sipping on a drink, but he still keeps going back to you in his mind. He knows he is especially hopeless when a cute girl approaches him and asks him to dance. He forgets her name as soon as she says it (Yerim maybe?) and even though she looks incredibly sexy in her little black dress and cat ears, the only thing Chan can see is you when he closes his eyes.

Even when she drags him to the living room to dance and presses her body close to his, he wishes it was you that was rubbing your ass against his crotch. Chan wonders what you’re doing right now and if you’re dancing with someone else just like this. He beats himself up at the thought, chiding himself for not asking you to come to this party instead or even to stop by after the one you’re at now. Even though Jinah asked you to her friend’s party first, he still should’ve brought it up, but he was too nervous you’d turn him down. He hates the idea of you looking that stunning and having other people look at you or touch you. He wants you so bad, in any way you’ll have him, and he doesn’t care how pathetic that sounds.

The cat girl seems to take notice that Chan is distracted as his arms lay limp on her hips. She turns around, draping her arms around his neck and pressing her tits against his chest. Her wide brown eyes blink up at him and her black painted lips curl up in a smile. She’s really cute, Chan can admit - like really cute - but she’s also not you. Before he can think anymore, she’s on her tiptoes, placing a kiss on his lips.

Any other time, he doesn’t think he’d turn down a cute girl that is so obviously into him and he certainly wouldn’t turn away from a kiss, but this time is different. This time, Chan only thinks of you and wishes this was you. That’s why he doesn’t make much effort to kiss her back. Not a single spark pops between him and the cat girl. She quickly gets tired of his lack of enthusiasm, soon pulling away and turning in a huff to leave him standing in the middle of the living room.

Chan watches her go, his eyes looking around the room and it hits him how much he doesn’t actually want to be here. He’d much rather be back at home, sitting on the couch with you watching late night sitcoms like the two of you have fallen into the habit of doing.

He’s only at the party for a couple of hours, before he finds Hansol in the kitchen, letting him know that he doesn’t feel very party-like anymore and decides to go home. Hansol is right in the middle of racing with their friend Seokmin, trying to shotgun a beer faster than him, but when he wins, he gives Chan his attention.

“Are you sure? You want me to go with you?”

“Nah, I’m good. Stay. I’m just gonna shower and probably chill.”

“Alright, dude. Can you just keep an eye out for Y/n when you get back?”

Hansol doesn’t have to ask twice. Even if he hadn’t asked once, Chan would’ve looked out for you anyway. It’s why after he’s showered and gotten a snack, he goes to the couch instead of his bed. He assumes you won’t be home until it’s late, but if he’s lucky he’ll catch a glimpse of you before you go to bed and will make sure you’re safe.

He’ll also get one more look at your costume which isn’t as important as making sure you’re safe, but it’s absolutely something he’s looking forward to.

When you get home, you’re surprised to see that the TV in the living room is on. When you round the corner you see Chan sitting on the couch, under a blanket with popcorn in hand and eyes wide in surprise at seeing you.

“Hey, Y/n! You’re home early.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t really feeling like being at a party anymore. Too people-y. I’m surprised you’re here though.”

Chan shrugs, “I guess I wasn’t feeling like being at a party either.”

You hum, glancing at the space on the couch he makes for you. “I’m gonna shower and put on my pajamas. Mind if I hang out here with you when I’m done? I’m not that tired yet.”

“Yeah! I mean, uh, yeah of course you can.” He clears his throat, eyes still flickering between you and the TV.

“Great. I’ll be quick and then we can watch a movie?” Chan nods and shamelessly watches you go when you hurry down the hall and into the bathroom.

You remove your makeup and shower faster than you think you ever have, eager to spend the evening with Chan.

Once your most comfortable pajamas are on, you join him, plopping next to him on the couch.

“So, what’re we watching?”

“Scream?”

“Oh, yes! Both of them?”

“Sure.”

Chan starts the movie already in the VCR and passes you the bowl in his hands which you eagerly accept. As the movie goes on, you both start on your respective sides of the couch. It isn’t until you’re halfway through the first movie that you have half a mind to notice that your leg brushes against Chan’s each time you adjust. At first, you jump at the contact, and he seems to as well, both of you shifting away embarrassedly.

That only lasts for a small amount of time though, because by the end of the movie, you’re both close again and the bowl of popcorn you’ve been sharing is empty. After Chan gets up and puts in the second movie, he comes back to the couch and sits down, this time close enough that your thighs touch and neither of you moves.

You continue to stay close to one another as you watch the movie and eventually, you’re so close that you’re practically cuddling. You’re not, but you may as well. Seeing how at some point, you end up falling asleep with your head on Chan’s shoulder and his arm draped around your waist.

You only know this to be the case when you’re woken up sometime later, Hansol’s voice rousing you out of your sleep. When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Ghostface staring down at you, causing you to scream, jolting into Chan’s lap and making the man jolt awake too. His eyes meet Ghostface standing in front of you both, also making him shriek and grasp onto you for protection.

Hansol lets out a chuckle, and lifts the mask, taking in the terror written on his roommates’ faces.

“It’s just me.”

“Jesus, Sol! You could’ve taken the damn mask off before you scared the shit out of us.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him in the gut, but he doesn't flinch.

“Nah this was more fun.” He dodges the second pillow that Chan tries to smack him with and says goodnight to you both as he sprints down the hall.

Once he’s gone, you both realize that you’re still partially in Chan’s lap and he still has an arm around you. You sit up quickly, sharing an awkward laugh with him as you get up, announcing that you’ll start to clean up. Chan helps and you tidy up the living room and cut the TV off, refolding the blanket you shared and saying goodnight before you go your separate ways to your rooms.

Your words are awkward, but neither of you can get over how warm and right it felt being so close. You tell yourself to forget it as you get into bed, reminding yourself that you can’t do that again.

Meanwhile, Chan can’t help but wonder if you’re thinking about him too, just like he’s thinking about you and the way you smell and how much he wants to hold you like that again one day.

He’s not sure if that’ll be a reality for him, but he can only hope so.

November is halfway over when you think that maybe you can finally, fully and unabashedly admit that you like Lee Chan. After Halloween night when you fell asleep together, you’ve only been spending more time with him and getting to know more about him. The problem is, the more you get to know Chan, the more you’re unable to ignore the rapidly growing crush on him.

You want to date him and have sex with him and kiss him. You want to hold his hand when you're grocery shopping or if you’re both in the same room. You want to hug him when you’re sitting next to each other on the couch or on the floor. You want to sleep in the same bed with him, cuddle against his chest, and wake up next to him the following morning.

You admit this to Jinah one day over lunch and she isn’t the least bit surprised. She’s stopped being so enthusiastic about you admitting your feelings for and to Chan, but you already know that’s what she wants to tell you to do whenever you talk about him or she sees you looking at him if you’re all in the same room.

It gets worse when you and Chan spend a day together decorating the apartment for Christmas. He helps you get the tree - a small plastic, realistic looking one since none of you want to deal with the work of a real one - decorate it, and hang up other decorations around the apartment. It all feels so incredibly domestic, similar to all of the cheesy rom coms you’ve had to watch on long flights around this time of year. Of course Hansol is there helping too, but he doesn’t seem to get in between the two of you when you stand too close or reach for the same ornaments.

Well, it’s more likely that he literally doesn’t even notice, but it’s still very cozy and special nonetheless.

Either way, Chan only continues to prove himself as the sweetest, most caring man you’ve ever been around and it’s only serving to stoke the fire that is your feelings for him. It was getting harder and harder to separate those feelings until you simply can’t deny them anymore.

You’re not alone in this want and desire. Every day that Chan has to see you and spend time with you, he only falls for you more. He thought his feelings were rough to grapple with when he was a kid, but this is different. Now that he’s spent so much time with you as adults, getting to know any and everything about you, it only cements his love for you into his heart.

This only makes things harder for him. He’s been trying to take Soonyoung’s advice and show more of the true him to you and he can’t tell if it’s working or not. You seem to enjoy being around him and he knows that at times he’s seen your eyes stray over his body. It’s not enough to make him brave enough to make any moves yet, but he thinks about it constantly. What if he’s reading the signals wrong? What if you’re just really nice and a good roommate and you don’t feel anything remotely romantic for him?

It’s that doubt and fear that has him keeping his mouth shut. Instead, he just constantly thinks about every part of you that he likes (which is everything, to be honest). He thinks about how pretty you are and how soft your skin is. He’s been lucky enough to accidentally knock into you or brush arms or thighs on occasion and every time he feels electricity throughout his body. He constantly thinks about how good you smell and how he can rank a list of all of his favorite outfits that you own. He thinks about your smile and your laugh and the way your expressions change when you experience different emotions.

Lee Chan is in love with you. Always has been and at this rate, probably always will be. He wants to be with you in every way possible. You’re always on his mind, but when he’s in bed, with only a single wall separating you both, he can’t help but think of other things that he likes about you.

Like how pretty your lips are when he sees you wrap them around a bottle or lick stray food from your fingers. Or how tempting your legs look when the heat in the apartment is a little too warm and you wear small sleep shorts. Or even the sound of your voice when you talk to him. He can imagine so easily how soft and breathy your voice could sound while you say his name if he was between your legs in either your bed or his.

Chan thinks about all of these things so much more when he wraps his hand around his aching cock and jerks off, wishing that it was your hand, or mouth, or pussy around him instead. He thinks about how much he’d love to watch you fall apart for him and only him.

When he cums all over himself with a whisper of your name on his lips, he starts to feel a little guilty for thinking of you like this but reminds himself that it’s just fantasies and he’s not acting on anything.

Little does he know that you want him to act on all of those things and more. He’s on your mind most nights too and you can’t help but slip your fingers between your legs. You think about his laugh and his wonderful smile and how high pitched his moans probably are and how stunning you know he’d look under you while you ride him. When your fingers are buried inside of yourself knuckle deep, you want so badly for it to be him and his fingers or his cock.

You have similar conflicting feelings after you fall apart, biting down on your lip to stop from crying his name. Guilt washes over you after the orgasm haze lifts and you scold yourself for thinking of him like this when you specifically tell yourself not to. That lasts for a bit until you remind yourself that it’s not like you can act on any of these fantasies so they’re better off as just that.

It's Thursday when snow starts to fall and cover the city of Seoul. You don’t mind too much. You can’t remember the last time you were in a place where you’d have the potential of a snowy Christmas, so you weren’t complaining too much.

Saturday is when the snow stops and sits on the ground like a fresh blanket. Your original plan is to lounge around the apartment and enjoy a day of nothing, the book you’ve been meaning to finish in hand when the phone rings. Your plans are rerouted when Hansol announces that you’re all going ice skating. Seungkwan and his partner want to go to the new outdoor skating rink that recently opened, but they want to invite all of you. You’re prepared to turn down the invitation because you’re cozy and you don’t even know how to skate, until Chan, who’s on the couch next to you playing his Game Boy, looks up and nods. He gives you a sidelong glance to see what your answer will be. The excited look on his face is enough for you to agree.

Half an hour later the three of you are in Hansol’s car and driving to the rink. Seungkwan and his partner are there when you arrive along with their other friend Seokmin who you recognize a little but from high school. Everyone eagerly lines up at the booth to get their rental skates and you lag behind. Chan notices and moves to stand next to you, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m fine I just, I don’t actually know how to skate.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

You shrug, taking a step as the line moves. “I don’t know. Everyone seemed excited to come so I didn’t wanna ruin it.” That’s partially true. You also just wanted to spend time with him, but you keep that to yourself.

“Well don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

“Ah, you don’t have to-”

“Nope. I wasn’t asking! I’m telling you that I’ll help.” He gives you a wide smile that makes you melt just as fast as the snow piled under your feet.

When it’s finally your turn for your skates, you ask for your size and Chan insists on paying for your rental with his, ignoring how many times you object. He leads you both to a bench on the side of the rink and helps you lace up your skates. Once they’re on and secure, you adjust your scarf and gloves and wait for him to finish putting his on.

Chan stands first and offers you his gloved hand which you take without much thought. Slowly, he leads you to the entrance of the rink, letting you slowly step out as he skates backward. As soon as your foot makes contact with the ice you almost feel your balance give out, but Chan keeps a strong grip on your hands, helping keep you upright.

“I won’t let you fall. Promise.” He smiles at you again, this time soft and warm and the gesture feels like a comforting hug.

You and Chan do an entire lap around the rink, albeit slowly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Hansol has already passed you both numerous times, as has Seungkwan, but Chan doesn’t pay them any mind. All of his attention is locked on you and only you.

You manage to do a few more laps, your legs feeling more confident each time. Chan keeps skating backwards with his hands on you, the two of you falling into conversation and laughing the more comfortable you get with him ferrying you around the ice.

Things are going well. Your time with him feels so incredibly right. He seems to be enjoying it too because at some point he shortens the gap between both of you and moves his hands from around yours to your forearms, your biceps, and eventually, his hands are around your waist and yours are draped over his shoulder. The closeness is not exactly normal for two roommates who are not romantically involved, but neither of you moves away.

Your cheeks, nose, and lips are so cold that eventually, you’re ready to call for a break, but then you notice how close Chan is and how red his lips are. He looks cold too and you wonder what will happen if you lean forward and close the already lessening gap.

Chan’s eyes flicker up from your feet to your eyes, and then your lips. You hold your breath in that moment and look between his lips and his eyes. Something between the two of you stirs and you swear you see him inching his face closer and closer.

Before you can finally kiss Chan like you’ve been daydreaming about for the past 2 and a half months, you shift on your left foot which proves to be a horrible idea. You’re falling backward faster than you and Chan can register. You attempt to put your hands back to break your fall which helps because you don’t fall on your ass but you do land on your left wrist with more force than you thought. A sharp, shooting pain runs from your wrist to your elbow making you yelp in pain.

“Y/n!” Chan drops to his knees to check on you and Hansol is at your side in seconds.

“I’m okay, I think I fucked up my wrist though.” They both help you up, each man on either side of you to get you off of the ice. They sit you on a bench and Chan takes off your skates, then his before sprinting to the bench you both started at that still has your boots.

The rest of your group joins you to check in and you notice a few other skaters looking in your direction. In between the pain in your wrist, you feel utter mortification at all of the attention and the way that you busted your ass in front of everyone. Especially given the fact that you swear that you were so close to kissing Chan.

When he comes back with your boots, Chan helps you stand up and announces that he and Hansol will take you to the hospital. You try to object, but they don't want to hear it.

So, you end your day sitting in the hospital getting a wrist brace put on. The doctor says it’s only a mild sprain and all you need to do is wear your brace and use your wrist as little as possible for at least two weeks and you should be just fine.

Even though Chan is in the room when the words “mild sprain” leave the doctor’s mouth, he still treats you as if you have two broken legs and a concussion. He insists on helping you out of the hospital and car and into the apartment. When you sit on the couch he makes sure to prop the throw pillows up under your arm to keep your wrist elevated.

“Chan, my arm won’t fall off.”

“I know, but the doctor recommended keeping it elevated, remember? Now are you hungry? I think we have some leftovers, or if you want me to go out and grab something I can.” He stares at you concerned, waiting for your next order.

Shaking your head you slide over on the couch and gesture to the cushion. “Chan, I promise I’m fine. All I need is for you to sit down and just relax. I ruined skating so try and enjoy the rest of your Saturday.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything! It was an accident. I’m just happy you’re okay.” Chan’s hand lifts and hovers over your good hand sitting on the cushion between the two of you. It’s only for a second because he seems to rather quickly decide against it, letting his hand land in his lap.

He doesn’t think you notice, but you do and it stings, just a little.

Despite the awkwardness that lingers now and again between you and Chan over the next week, he still insists on taking care of you. He ignores your protests for the first two days, so you end up just giving in. You let him do any simple lifting around the apartment, even going as far as to carry your food for you at mealtimes. He’s already been doing a lot of small favors and nice things for you, but he does it even more as your wrist heals. It’s both overwhelming and the most flattering thing anyone has ever done for you.

It’s not helping your emotional battle with your feelings for him in the slightest, but you’re ready to give up and accept it. You’re not sure if he feels the same or not. He was the first to initiate what you truly thought was about to be a kiss at the skating rink, but since that failed spectacularly, you feel like he’s also pulling away a little bit. To you, your relationship has only deepened since you moved in and you two were becoming closer and closer. Now though, even though he practically waits on you hand and foot, he still does it in the most platonic way possible, if that’s even possible. So, feelings you harbor for him aside, you’re stuck holding them to yourself in a vice grip.

Working with your wrist sprained is annoying, to say the least. Your role involves computer and phone usage which isn’t impossible, it just makes you a little slower at doing your day to day since everything has to be done with one hand.

When you hit the middle of your second week in the brace, you feel like your wrist will heal closer to the two weeks. That means that if you’re lucky, you only have three days left to suffer in the brace. You wonder if that means things between you and Chan will continue to change even further, but do your best to fight the spiral you’re about to go on. You’re just happy work is done for the day and you can relax.

“Sol!” When you walk into the apartment it’s the first thing you yell out, waiting for your brother to answer.

“Yeah?”

“Did I get a package today?!” Your very first set of business cards that your boss ordered for you a few weeks ago were supposed to arrive today. Hansol stayed home due to a stomach bug, so he was responsible for getting the mail. It wasn’t anything particularly fun, but you were still excited for your own business cards nonetheless.

“That depends; did you pick up the medicine I asked you to get?” He calls back. You roll your eyes as you kick your shoes off and gently remove your crossbody bag.

“And what if I said I didn’t? What’re you gonna do? Hold my package for ransom in your room?”

“Maybe. Or I hid it somewhere in the apartment and now you have to play hide and seek for it.” He chuckles.

“Hansol Vernon Chwe, if you don’t give me my mail, I will literally take your Game Boy and shove it up my - oh.” Your threat to Hansol vanishes the second you turn the corner into the living room and see a man on your couch that you don’t know. A handsome man at that.

A very handsome man.

“What was that?” Your brother teases you, seeing the way you blink back wordlessly at his friend.

“Nothing, shut up. Here’s your medicine, nerd.” You snap out of it and toss the paper bag at your brother on the couch.

“Thanks. Your package is in your room on your desk.”

“Thanks,” you nod, your eyes shifting back to the man on the couch who’s just been smiling politely at you since you entered, chuckling at your sibling spat.

“This is Joshua, by the way.” Hansol finally says, gesturing to the man next to him. “Josh, this is my sister I told you about.”

“Yeah, I remember her. Hey, Y/n,” Joshua waves at you, his smile lowering but you still notice the way the corners of his lips quirk.

“You remember me?” You ask as you try and wrack your brain for any Joshuas from your past. “Oh! Joshua Hong?!” The minute you remember him, you’re even more shocked at how good looking he is. The once lanky, awkward looking transfer student that your brother befriended in his first year of high school even though Joshua is older than him, is now so much different. He’s filled out more, the t-shirt he’s wearing hugging his torso in the most distracting way possible. His jaw is defined, his hair longer and a soft shade of reddish-brown. He looks like a completely different person in your eyes.

What the fuck is going on with all of your brother’s friends? Why were they all suddenly so goddamn hot?!

“That’s me. It’s been a while, huh?”

“I mean yeah, try almost a decade?” You sit on the couch on the other side of Hansol to catch up. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m finishing my last year of school. I’m getting my bachelor of medicine right now.”

“You’re going to be a doctor?!” You’re surprised, to say the least. From your memory, you can’t remember Joshua being interested in the medical field, but at the same time, you didn’t really know Joshua well enough to recall too much about him.

He lets out a sheepish laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’ll be doing pediatrics. I didn’t anticipate that I’d get into pediatric medicine initially, it’s just what I fell into and I love it.” God, he’s incredibly fine and he’s going to be a doctor? You’ve completely forgotten what you were planning on doing when you get home.

The front door opens then, Chan arriving home from work too. When he comes into the living room he freezes, surprised at the third person on the couch.

“Shua hyung?”

“Hey, Chan!”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Ah, my apartment building is being exterminated and I need to be out for two days and Hansol is gracious enough to let me crash on your couch till it’s done.”

Chan nods, not minding too much until his eyes flicker to you. He immediately notices the way you look at Joshua. He looks at you enough to know most of your facial expressions and the way your eyes inspect Joshua makes it clear you’re looking at him in the complete opposite of a platonic way.

Chan feels something unpleasant stirring in the pit of his stomach that he can’t shake.

It turns out Joshua is much more than just a doctor-to-be with a pretty face the more you talk with him. It should’ve been a little more awkward getting to know him, but it really wasn’t. You have a lot in common and he’s incredibly interesting and charming. He’s easier to get along with than you had anticipated. The two of you end up spending time together while he’s staying over and he also insists on helping you when he can even though, as you remind all of the men in the house, it’s just a minor wrist sprain.

You are lucky that he’s studying medicine because he inspects your wrist while he’s staying with you and reaffirms what the doctor at the hospital said. It’s not that serious and you should be free by the end of the week. Joshua’s hands are so much bigger than yours and they’re so very warm. The way he cradles your injured wrist is delicate and he handles you like the smallest flower. His sweet gestures make you feel warm all over anytime he says something kind to you or helps you.

He’s only on your couch for two days, but it’s long enough that you’re drawn to him. It helps that he is probably one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen, but his personality makes him almost too good to be true. Or you’re just incredibly desperate for someone to give you attention since it seems like Chan has taken a step back from being your nurse or growing closer to you. It hurts a bit, but having Joshua around feels nice and makes you feel a little more cared for.

When it’s the day that Joshua is supposed to be leaving, you both get back from work at the same time. You chat with him while he puts the pillowcase and blanket he used in the laundry and goes into the bathroom to make sure he’s packed all of his toiletries.

As you walk him to the door he thanks you again for letting him stay. Before he leaves though, he stops and takes a few seconds before turning back to you, surprising you.

“Hey, Y/n, I know this will seem completely out of nowhere, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but would you let me take you out sometime?”

You blink back at him, mouth opening into a surprised ‘o.’

“No pressure of course! And I won’t be upset if you say no. You’ve only really been getting to know me for two days, so I wouldn’t blame you at all if it’s a no.”

Even though Joshua seems like an absolute gentleman and has been nothing but nice to you, you still can’t help but pause. Your track record with dating has historically not been very good. Hell, even your last attempt at a hookup failed miserably. Plus, Joshua is another one of your brother’s friends. He’s only a couple of years younger than you, and sure, he doesn’t live with you, but you’d hate to be the reason that any of Hansol’s friendships get ruined.

“Joshua, you’re really sweet, but I’m Hansol’s older sister. I don’t know how he’d feel about that.”

“Okay, that’s a very fair hesitation, but if it helps, I asked Hansol this morning if I could ask you out and he said, and I quote, ‘Sure, whatever. Just make sure you don’t hurt her or I’ll tell Seungcheol.’” Joshua laughs, shrugging at you. You recognize that name as being Hansol’s oldest friend. You didn’t talk much when you were in school, but you remember him being mildly popular and feared by many.

You return his laugh and can’t help but wonder if Hansol would feel the same if you and Chan dated.

Shaking your head, you brush the thought away. One date can’t hurt - it’s not like Joshua is asking you to be his girlfriend. You and Chan are still in an odd place right now anyway. You’re not really sure how to gauge him right now, and he isn’t making any moves to change that. Sure you don’t know Joshua very well but that’s what dates are for right?

“Okay,” you finally say. “But after I get this stupid brace off. I will see my doctor tomorrow afternoon and I should get an all clear.”

The smile Joshua gives you is lethal and makes your palms sweaty. “Of course. After you take your brace off. I’d want you to be feeling completely better so you can enjoy yourself.” His words make your face heat up, suddenly feeling shy. “What do you say I pick you up tomorrow at six?”

“Sure, that works for me.”

“It’s a date then,” Joshua offers you one more look before he’s out the door and on his way.

Once he’s gone, you bring your hands to your cheeks, cursing yourself for getting so flustered around a guy you barely know, no matter how perfect he looks. To get your mind off of Joshua, you shower and get ready for the evening before deciding you’ll order a pizza and call Jinah to tell her about your date tomorrow.

“So how’s it going with Y/n?” Soonyoung asks Chan as they clean up and prepare to lock up the dance studio at the end of the day.

“It’s…going I guess.”

“I assume this means it’s going absolutely nowhere?” Chan narrows his eyes at Soonyoung, ignoring the way his friend laughs at him.

“It was going somewhere. And then I made her break her wrist and now everything is weird.”

“Oh yeah I remember you said that, but you also said that she was about to reciprocate when you almost kissed, was she not?”

“I mean, yeah I think so, but she’s also been flirting with Joshua since he got here and he’s definitely been flirting back. What if I’m wrong and she wasn’t actually going to kiss me back?”

Soonyoung lets out a sigh behind Chan, watching as his younger friend visibly agonizes over his thoughts and self-doubt.

“Chan, listen, I’m going to be honest with you okay?”

“Why am I worried…”

“Because I’m about to tell you the truth!” Soonyoung waits for Chan to lock the studio door and turns to look at him. “You need to decide what you want to do. Either you’ll keep doing this weird will-they-won’t-they with her and not tell her how you feel and probably stress over her for the rest of your life or you tell her and see what happens. I know you’re worried about what she’ll say or how she’ll react, but is that better or worse than letting this eat you up forever?”

Chan scoffs, both options are terrible and he hates them equally, but at the same time, he really has to decide. Either option makes him uncomfortable and unhappy, but Soonyoung has a point, he’s just not sure which is the lesser of the two evils.

“I don’t know…”

“Well, I think you should think about it again and figure it out. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with flirting unless she actually becomes his girlfriend or something, right?”

Chan mumbles something that even he finds unintelligible, but Soonyoung doesn’t press him to repeat himself. They walk the short distance to the parking lot on the side of the studio and bid each other goodbye, Soonyoung wishing him luck again.

Chan spends the entire drive home in silence, weighing the pros and cons of telling you how he feels versus not telling you. He’s had this internal battle with himself since you moved in and it’s always the same in each category.

You may hate him. He’ll make living with you awkward. He’ll fuck up his friendship with Hansol.

All the same negative scenarios play on repeat. The only pro (and the biggest, to be clear), would be that you feel the same for him or you’ll at least want to give him a chance. For Chan, it comes down to how much of a risk he wants to take here.

He’s not much of a risk taker usually, but he also can’t help but tell himself that you’re more than worth the risk. If he can get over his fear of the cons that is.

Chan is still deep in thought when he gets home. When he walks into the apartment, he can hear you talking in your room. The dock for the cordless phone sits empty on the side table next to the couch which tells him you’re using it.

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, truly he doesn’t, but as he’s walking down the hall to his room, he overhears you mention Joshua’s name and the word ‘date.’ Chan freezes in his tracks, his heart beating rapidly at the implication. He knows he should go into his room and wait until you’re done to ask what the plan for dinner is.

Instead, he tiptoes to your room, the door ajar enough for him to listen without being seen.

“I’m not sure where he’s taking me. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I want to be surprised.” You chuckle and there’s a beat of silence as the person, who Chan assumes is Jinah, speaks. “I’m telling you, he looks so different now. Like, fuck I can’t even describe how good looking he is! And hello, he’s going to be a doctor!” More silence. “I mean, let’s not get crazy. We’re not eloping or anything, it’s just one date.” You stop talking before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Chan takes this as his sign to slink away, trudging to his bedroom to wallow. He tries to remind himself that you don’t even know how he feels, he’s never even told you about his feelings, so what right does he have to be upset about this?

Absolutely none, logically speaking. That doesn’t make the twinge of pain in his chest feel any more bearable.

It’s ten minutes to six when you’re putting the finishing touches on your hair and fastening your jewelry. You called Joshua earlier in the day to let him know that your doctor gave you the okay to take off your brace and that your wrist is feeling much better. You also asked if you should wear anything special for tonight. He advised that you didn’t need anything fancy, just whatever makes you feel good and some comfortable shoes. To be safe, you were going with thermal leggings and a nice sweater to stay warm and comfy.

With your bag and boots in hand, you leave your room and head down the hallway, intending to wait in the living room. The apartment is quiet with Hansol out for the night and Chan presumably in his room. You haven’t seen him much since he got home from work last night. He took his pizza into his room to eat it and you only saw him briefly this morning when he was coming back from the gym. You want to ask him if he’s okay, but you can’t seem to get a moment with him to do so.

As you reach the end of the hallway, Chan rounds the corner suddenly and you both let out a yelp, running into each other.

“Shit, sorry!” Chan steadies you when your shoes and bag fall out of your hand along with the book that had been in his. He quickly bends down to pick up your things and gingerly hands them over to you.

“Thanks,” you smile at him, forcing your eyes up to his face and not down to the black tank top that hugs his torso.

“Of course,” Chan smiles back, neither of you moving. He’s blocking the entryway into the living room, you tell yourself, so he has to move first.

He doesn’t and instead looks above your head, chuckling nervously.

“Huh?” You look up and catch sight of the mistletoe hanging above your heads. Who the fuck even put that there?

The two of you look from the mistletoe to each other, and then back up again.

“You don’t have to,” Chan starts, his neck turning a deep shade of red.

“I - I mean you neither, if you don’t want to. But if you do, since you know it’s tradition or whatever, we can. Only if you want!” You’re stammering at this point, hand gripping the strap of your bag so hard your knuckles hurt.

Your mind goes back to the ice skating rink and the moment the two of you shared. Chan’s reaction now might just reaffirm your thoughts from that day, but you try not to get too emotionally attached as you wait for his next words.

He doesn’t say anything, and instead, he answers with his movements. He looks into your eyes, so intensely you feel yourself squirm under his gaze. He starts to lean forward then, his face coming closer and closer to yours.

There’s your answer.

Nothing comes from the moment though, when the doorbell rings, making both you and Chan spring apart with wide eyes. Clearing your throat, you apologize to Chan as you shuffle past him and into the living room.

“One minute!” You call out to the door, assuming it’s Joshua. You fish your compact out of your bag to give yourself one more once over before you rush to the door and sure enough, you see Joshua through the peephole.

“Hi. You look beautiful,” are the first words out of his mouth when he sees you, eyes sweeping over your frame appreciatively.

“Thank you. You look very handsome. And are those for me?” You gesture to the large bouquet in his hands and accept it when he holds it out to you.

“Thank you. And yes they are. I couldn’t just show up empty handed.” You thank him again and step back into the apartment to find somewhere to put your flowers. Chan is gone when you enter the living room again and you don’t see him as you find a vase in the kitchen and fill it with water, placing the bouquet in them before joining Joshua again and leaving with him.

Your date with Joshua is as normal as a date can get, but you don’t mind one bit. As he drives you to your destination, you fall into easy conversation as you ask him about his job. Right now, he’s working at his friend’s office until he’s done with school. Since he’s still getting his degree, he can’t legally do much medical wise, but he does volunteer at the hospital when he can to visit the kids and keep them company between surgeries and procedures.

He tells you stories from the hospital and you can tell just in the way he talks about the patients he’s spent time with that it’s something he really enjoys and is looking forward to doing full time. It’s admirable to see someone so in love with what they do and recall it in such a positive way. You know that when you recount stories from your time in the air and in different countries, it’s always with bittersweet words. There was so much you loved about being a flight attendant and so much you disliked, but Joshua talks about medicine with nothing but love.

Similar to how Chan speaks about dancing.

You push that thought away as soon as it conjures in your brain, refocusing back on your date.

Joshua takes you to a fancy looking Japanese restaurant and does everything right that you would expect. He makes sure to open your car door for you and the door of the restaurant. He pulls out your chair and tells you to order whatever you want, making it clear that he’ll be paying and brushing you off when you try to convince him to split the bill.

“Okay, Doctor Hong, you win. You’re more stubborn than me,” you joke after you both order.

He laughs, shrugging and making eye contact with you. “I asked you out, so I’ll pay. Simple as that. Maybe next time you can arrange the next date and you can pay.”

The idea of another date with Joshua hadn’t even crossed your mind. You’re comfortable with him and are enjoying talking with him and getting to know him more, but you feel like there’s something missing that you can’t quite put your finger on.

That feeling persists during dinner, even through the shared laughter and the jokes and it sticks when you’re back in the car after dessert. It lingers as you chat on the way to the second, secret destination he has on the itinerary.

When Joshua eventually parks on the curb of a neighborhood you don’t recognize, you see a bunch of other cars parked and can see bright lights in the distance.

“Where exactly are we?” You try to read street signs around but don’t recognize them. Joshua offers his hand as he opens your door and you hesitantly take it, letting him escort you out. He doesn’t let your hand go as you walk down the sidewalk and get closer to all of the lights.

“I know you’re really into Christmas and decorations so I wanted to take you here,” As you walk closer to the lights, you finally start to notice that they’re Christmas decorations. It’s a whole street of houses adorned with bright lights and flashy decorations. “There aren’t too many people who go all out with the decorations here, but I happened upon this street when I got lost once and they do this every year. It reminds me of the way people back home in L.A. decorate their houses for the holidays.”

You nod, eyes taking in a house with sparking blue and white lights wrapped around every inch of their house. “Yeah, whenever we had layovers or rest periods in the U.S. for the holidays it was nice to see all the decorations out there. It’s why I made Hansol and Chan decorate the apartment. It makes the holidays feel more fun for me.” You laugh, sticking the hand not in Joshua’s in your coat pocket. “I don’t know, maybe that’s silly.”

“It’s not,” he insists, squeezing your hand. “I think it’s very cute and sweet.” Looking over at him out of the corner of your eye, he smiles warmly at you. Joshua is so good at making you flustered it’s almost illegal.

You keep your hand in his as you walk down the sidewalk, pointing out different decorations and your favorite houses. There are other people around you taking in the decorations, all other couples from what you can see. There’s one house that you get to towards the end of the street that’s the most dramatic looking of all. Twinkling, multicolored lights cover the house and an army of snowmen litter the yard, all draped in winter clothes with lights on them as accessories. Various blow-up decorations dot the yard, one of them even playing instrumental versions of classic Christmas carols. Paired with the December snow on the ground, the yard resembles a true winter wonderland and for a moment, you just focus on that and not the fact that your brain keeps wanting you to imagine taking all of this in with Chan.

You’re so focused on the wonder in front of you that you don’t notice the way Joshua admires your profile, smiling at the way your eyes sparkle as you admire the lights and decorations. Joshua takes the moment, turning to you and placing his fingers under your chin to turn your head towards him. The gesture catches you off guard, as does the kiss he leans down to place on your lips.

Joshua’s lips are plush against yours and so incredibly soft. He almost doesn’t feel real. His lips move against yours and you reciprocate, but that earlier, nagging feeling you’ve had since the restaurant comes back. The insistence that something here is missing and it’s even louder now that Joshua is kissing you. It’s especially hard to enjoy kissing him when your mind only wants to focus on your second almost-kiss with Chan earlier. You yearn so badly to feel his lips on yours and daydream about if they feel as soft as they look. You also can’t help but wonder if kissing Chan would make you feel things like fireworks. That consideration alone makes you notice the severe lack of them now. Guilt occupies your mind along with your thoughts of Chan and you notice just how little you feel from kissing Joshua.

As if he feels it too, he pulls away slowly, eyes immediately scanning your face.

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“It’s just that, well I mean, you’ve seemed like your mind is only half here all night. I could feel it just now. Did I do something? I should’ve asked you before kissing you, I’m sorry.”

“No! No, Joshua it’s fine! You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise! You’re a great kisser anyway,” you mumble the last part, truly meaning it. Joshua chuckles and thanks you, but his expression gets serious again.

“I appreciate that and you are too, but I still feel like something is wrong.” He stares at you as if trying to read your mind and it makes you feel shy.

“It’s just…fuck, listen, Joshua, I have had a lot of fun tonight, okay? You’re easy to talk to and laugh with and I like hanging out with you, but I think maybe…there’s a spark between us that’s missing? I’m really sorry.” You gnaw on your bottom lip as you get your words out, worrying about how he’ll react.

Thankfully, he doesn’t make any indication that he’s upset at you. Instead, Joshua just nods and if anything, looks a little disappointed.

“Thank you for being honest with me. I’ve had a really fun time too. Even though I do genuinely like you, I’m not going to try and make you return my feelings. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to at least stay friends? I promise I can get over my crush.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad that I had you take me out like this and it was for nothing.”

“Hey, it wasn’t for nothing! I’m a little disappointed we can’t be more, but I still got to know you more. I mean it when I say let’s stay friends. It’s comfortable and nice hanging out with you. I promise I won’t make this weird. If you’re okay with it. Otherwise, when I take you home, I’ll drop you off and fuck off forever.”

You huff out a laugh, mostly in relief at how normal he’s taking your lack of interest. You study him for a moment, sincerity is easy to read in his expression.

Your shoulders relax as you nod, telling Joshua that you’ll gladly still be friends. This seems to put him at ease as well, letting out a sigh of relief. In your friendship travels, finding a dependable guy friend has been near impossible, so the idea of finally finding one means you can't just let the friendship slip away. You did genuinely enjoy spending time with him too.

You and Joshua finish the walk and any awkwardness you felt when the night started leaves now that the air is a bit clearer. Joshua doesn’t hold your hand, but he stays close and you appreciate that he genuinely meant he didn’t want you to feel weird around him.

After going around the block and taking a few selfies together (at Joshua’s request), you walk back to his car and he still holds the door open for you.

“What? Just because we’re friends this is still a date right?” He shoots you a smirk and you roll your eyes but laugh, nodding at his words. “Exactly. Now let’s get you home.”

Once back in the car, Joshua turns up the heat, both of you thawing as he starts the drive back to your apartment building.

At one point in your chatter as he takes you home, you compliment his gentlemanly behavior all night, telling him it’s honestly some of the most you’ve been wooed out of most other guys you’ve been with. Joshua frowns, citing how fucked up that is and how much guys fucking suck. You can’t help but laugh, noting that his level-headedness just adds to the fact that he’s the perfect guy for most women.

You voice this, adding: “If you’re still looking for someone special, my best friend just might fall in love with you if she meets you.” Joshua laughs, shooting you a brief look that you catch. “Yeah okay. I’ll tell her about you and let you know what she says.” You giggle.

“Sorry!” He winces, regretting his obvious expression. “Was that weird? Did I make it weird?”

“No, no! I don’t mind! I do think you’re a great guy and I love her and want her to be with a great guy. I don’t have a problem with you two going out. I’m just a little relieved to know you wanna talk to someone else so quickly. Makes me feel less bad about everything.”

“Hey, for real, don’t feel bad! I told you I’m going to be okay.”

“Ugh I know, I just feel bad because you paid for that fancy sushi and walked out in the cold and I’m curbing you.”

“Y/n, I’m not going to go home and write in my journal that you broke my heart. It was just a date, okay?”

Sighing, you finally accept his answer, deciding to let it drop, but still let him know you’re going to talk to Jinah about him.

“If you guys do go out and fall in love, try not to treat me like a third wheel, yeah?”

Chuckling, Joshua rolls his eyes at you as the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “She doesn’t even know my name yet, Y/n.”

“Yeah well, what I said still stands.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” Joshua shakes his head at you and your triumphant sounding rebuttal. “Just make sure you don’t forget about your friends whenever you find someone.”

Frowning, you shake your head. “Oh, absolutely not. I’ve never even entertained abandoning my friends for a relationship. I’ll divide my time evenly between you guys and Ch-” Your lips clamp together like your mouth has been sewn shut, halting your words immediately.

Unfortunately, Joshua catches it, his eyebrows raising so high they almost disappear into his hairline. “Us and who?”

“No one.”

“That's obviously a lie. You were totally about to say someone’s name.”

“Huh? What makes you think that?”

You hit another red light and Joshua fixes you with a blank expression. “Really? You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Hey, this is still a date, remember?! What kind of date would I be if I talked about another guy?”

Joshua narrows his eyes once more before focusing back on the road as he accelerates and drops it, a suspicious look still on his face. You steer the conversation back to Joshua, getting him to tell you about his family back home a little more. He surely knows you’re deflecting but he doesn’t press you further.

The conversation leads you right to a parking spot in your complex near the building entrance. Joshua, ever the gentleman, opens your door for you and walks you inside.

When reaching the third floor, Joshua walks you to the door. He pulls you into a hug, saying again that he had a good time hanging out with you regardless of the outcome. He says that he’ll look forward to your call about Jinah and about hanging out again soon.

Things with Joshua may not have gone as intended, but you’re grateful that he’s understanding and not mad at the fact that you ended up not being interested.

“I will, promise. Get home safe!”

“I will. Have a good night.” He waves at you as he starts to go, but turns quickly to look at you with a glint in his eyes. “And good luck with Chan.” He caps his sentence off with a wink and the moment leaves you flabbergasted. Did he just say Chan?!

“I - what about Chan?!” You can only hope you don’t look as panicked as you feel. Joshua doesn’t address your question, or what he said as he gets to the elevator, offering you a final wave and laughing as the door closes.

How the hell did he know that’s who you were talking about? You’ve never done anything to make someone think you like Chan, but clearly the response lets you know that maybe you’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. Has Chan noticed anything from you that would clue him in on your feelings for him being more than platonic? If so, you can only hope Hansol has been too… Hansol to notice it himself.

Chan’s lost count of how many times he’s paced the living room. He keeps trying to sit or do something else other than obsess over you, but nothing seems to be working. All he can think about is you out on a date, having fun, and developing feelings for someone other than him. He even called out of work tonight, telling Soonyoung he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t a complete lie.

Seeing the way Joshua just swept in after so long and snatched you up, just-like-that, legitimately made his head and stomach hurt. Chan knows for sure he is absolutely in love with you and the other almost-kiss he nearly shared with you proves it. He still didn’t recall where the mistletoe came from, but because of it, even if it wasn’t the proper result, he’s not exactly complaining. Well, not about the fact that you very clearly almost kissed him back.

He just feels like an idiot because he let you leave and is watching you slip away from him again and this time it’s to one of his friends. A friend that has more guts than him to step up and ask you out and tell you that he’s into you.

Chan hasn’t been brave enough to approach you and finally, finally try asking you out. The time when he was fourteen didn’t count because he was still a kid and you never saw him as anything other than your little brother’s annoying best friend that followed you around. Of course, you wouldn't have ever gone out with him.

But it’s different now. You’re both adults and you’re closer than that already. You seem to actually enjoy spending time with Chan and being around him for the first time in the entire time that he has known you and maybe, just maybe, he’d have a real chance with you.

His own cowardice stopped him from speaking up and allowed his older, much more confident hyung to do what he’s been too afraid to. It fucking sucked.

After you left, the only thing he’s done is stay up and stare at the TV, jealousy chipping away at him. Jealous that Joshua got to you before he could do it. Jealousy eats him up so much that he can’t feel relaxed no matter what he does. So, the only thing he thinks to do is sit up and wait for you.

As you enter the apartment, you expect the room to be dark, but you’re surprised to instead see Chan pacing around the living room with the TV playing a commercial.

When he turns upon hearing the door, you both freeze, his expression reading a deer in headlights.

“Y/n.”

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?”

His eyes are wide as he watches you slip your shoes off.

“Y/n,” he rushes over to you, grabbing your hands when you step into the room. The gesture is the most contact you’ve had in a week and it lights up all of your senses. He guides you into the room, but the two of you stay standing. “I have some stuff I want to say, okay? It might sound weird and you might hate me and I might fuck up everything, but I’m going to explode if I keep this to myself anymore.”

“Okay…” Your hesitance is obvious, but you don’t walk away to take your hands out of his hold, so he takes this as a sign to continue.

“I, fuck I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it, but Y/n, the truth is that I’m still in love with you. It’s different from when I was a dumb kid. That was me being captivated by my best friend’s big sister who was so much cooler and more mature than me and was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. When you left for college and your career, it hurt, but I told myself to get over it. That it was just my first crush and first crushes eventually go away.

And I thought that was true until you moved back and I realized, ‘oh shit, I’m still into her,’ only now it’s worse because I got to know you, like really know you, and realized that you’re still that intelligent, mature, amazing girl, but now you’re a woman and you’re still the woman of my dreams. I’ve been trying so hard to show you that I still care for you without actually saying it because I was worried that you’d turn me down and I didn’t know if I could handle that, but seeing you go out with Joshua and potentially slip away from me for good again has been killing me all night and I can’t hold back anymore.

If you don’t like me back that is completely okay! I know Joshua hyung is handsome and smart and he’s going to be a doctor so like whatever, yeah I get it. I won’t make living with you weird at all! I’ll even steer clear of certain areas when you’re around if that makes you feel better. Just, you know, whatever you want. But okay, I’m done. Too many words.”

Chan wants the floor to open up right at this moment and swallow him given the way you’re looking at him. Wide-eyed and mouth in a firm line as you absorb his words.

“Dammit, Chan!”

“What?! Sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry I suck I-”

“Huh? No! I didn’t mean it like that! I said that because, well, I think that you succeeded in showing me how much you care for me because I’ve fallen for you over the past three months.” Chan’s eyes widen almost comically, but he doesn’t say anything. “ I tried to fight it given one, you’re my brother’s best friend, two we live together, and three, you’re younger than me and four, I just didn’t want to make things weird with all of us living together, but knowing you like me just makes me want to stop being so cautious.”

“Really?”

“Really. Spending time with you and getting to know you has only made me like you more. Being around you, spending time with you, talking with you, everything just feels so right when we’re together. It’s scary because I have never felt like this, but I want it. I want you, Chan. In every sense of the word.”

The shell shocked man across from you has to let your words sit in his brain for a bit before he fully registers what you’ve said. You like him too. You’ve fallen for him. Being with him feels right. You want him.

If this is a cruel dream, Chan would really appreciate it if he could wake up right now. He closes his eyes tightly, counting to three before opening again. Sure enough, you’re still standing in front of him, looking at him with expectant eyes, anticipating his next words.

“Sorry, I’m just letting this all sink in. I don’t think I thought you’d actually say you feel the same.”

You shrug, shooting him a small smile. “Me neither honestly. I thought for sure you had gotten over your crush on me and moved on to actual women who returned your feelings.”

“Me too, at first I mean. But like I said, just seeing you again had all of those feelings rushing back to me.”

“Well I’m extremely lucky then it seems.”

“So am I.” You both stand there, grinning at each other, unsure what to do next. You think about maybe kissing Chan, finally, but you wonder if that’s too fast and too presumptuous of you.

As if he can read your mind, Chan clears his throat, making eye contact for a few seconds before looking away and taking a breath.

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” He blurts out, but you still hear him.

“Please do!” You answer immediately, encouraged by the knowledge that he wants the same as you.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice, immediately rushing over to you before you have too much time to think. Your back hits the wall in an effort to keep your weak knees from giving out. When Chan stops, right in front of you, you’re almost chest to chest. He’s so close that you feel the warmth that radiates from him.

His arm rests above your head, keeping you trapped, but leaving his other arm down, allowing you a way out if you wanted. Neither of you speak for a moment, both blinking at the other. You each need to decide what will happen next.

You both make that decision at the exact same time. Chan’s eyes stay locked on yours as he lowers his face. At the same time, your eyes flutter closed as you crane your neck up, allowing your lips to meet somewhere in the middle.

Your lips are still a little cold, Chan notes as your arms reach out in the tiny space between the two of you, and grasp the front of his t-shirt to pull him close, his body pressing you completely against the wall. He squeezes his eyes closed hard enough to hurt a few times in an effort to wake himself up from the dream that he feels like he’s having. He’s had more dreams than he can count about kissing you for as long as he can remember, so surely this is another one of those?

That thought is only sent away when your arms slip up his body and around his neck, fingers weaving into the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck and tugging. The action is like lightning through his body and helps keep him in the very real moment.

Kissing Chan feels the way that you think they describe in movies. They always describe it as feeling like the world around you fades away in a haze and your head feels fuzzy. All of the sounds you hear are like white noise or turn into muffled background noise. It’s cliché and something you don’t think you’ve ever felt until this moment. Kissing Chan feels right and you don’t think you ever want to kiss anyone else for a long time, if ever again.

His strong arms wrap around your waist as you melt into him, your lips moving together in perfect sync. Your hands move down to his biceps to steady yourself, fingers wrapping around as much of him as you can, which isn’t much but you try.

You stay like that longer than you think you can count. Both of you clinging to one another, making out against the wall like lovestruck, horny teenagers, even if that’s exactly what you feel like. Your heart hammers against your chest and your thighs squeeze together as the kiss ignites not only something in your chest, but in your panties too.

The kiss turns from soft and sentimental to heated quicker than either of you are brave enough to admit, but you’re not complaining. You’ve wanted each other for months (years for Chan) and are finally getting what you’ve dreamt of. Chan’s thick, muscled thigh wedges its way between yours. Your leggings may have been thick enough to avoid the cold, but they aren’t thick enough to keep you away from feeling him brush against your tender folds.

What sounds like a whimper slips out of you and gets swept away by Chan’s tongue and into his mouth. He swallows down sound after sound as he makes sure to nudge your pussy again and again and soon enough, you’re grinding down on him, sloppily riding his thigh as his lips stay connected to yours.

When you finally pull away, the first sound out of your mouth is a deep moan. Chan flexes his thigh in a way that tenses the muscles and he hits your clothed clit in the most delicious way.

“Fuck,” Chan pants as he holds your hips. His knee rests between your legs and against the wall to stay steady. You grind over Chan’s sweatpants again and with each sweet sound that slips out of your mouth, he feels himself getting painfully harder.

“Ch-Chan,” you manage out.

“Hmm?”

“I need more.”

“More? More what, baby girl?”

The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily, too easily, and your pussy throbs even harder. Riding his thigh feels fucking amazing and you know you can cum just like this, but you don’t want to just yet. You’d much rather cum around his cock. The playful part of you also wants him to be just as needy as you.

“More of you. Please, baby,” You lean up to place kisses on his neck. When you get to his jawline, you flatten your tongue right on the side of his chin, dragging it up his jaw, and landing on his ear lobe. Chan makes the prettiest, breathy whines as you tease him and it only makes you clench even more. When you stop and your teeth nibble on the shell of his ear, capping it off with a whisper of, “Please Channie,” Chan feels like he could explode, right then and there.

“Anything. Fucking anything for you” Chan mumbles his words before diving down to lavish your neck in kisses of his own, the tip of his tongue darting out occasionally to lap at your skin. He leaves sloppy kisses on your skin as he descends down to your chest, stopping briefly where your nipples sit behind layers of clothes.

He drops to his knees as he goes and doesn’t stop until he reaches your waist.

“Chan?” You’re surprised that this is how he wants you first. You expected him to finger you before anything, but he clearly wants to start elsewhere.

His hands move to grasp at your waistband, stopping before he actually undresses you. His eyes meet yours, fingertips meeting your bare skin underneath your sweater.

“Can I? I need to get my mouth on you so badly.”

“Fuck, yes. You better,” you demand in response, not even flinching at his request. The two of you easily slip your leggings and your panties down and off of you in one go.

Chan lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your thighs apart. His eyes widen at the sight of you bare and wet in front of him. His mouth waters at the glistening arousal he sees coating your lower lips and he almost gets lightheaded at the heady scent of you. Chan could die right here before even tasting you and even that would be okay with him.

“Chan, please I need you!” You beg, feeling self conscious under his stare. He doesn’t make you wait any longer and instantly dives between your folds, his tongue lapping at you harshly.

Your knees nearly buckle at the suction, a loud cry ringing out. He doesn’t hesitate at all, his tongue immediately plunging into your wet hole. Your head hits the wall with a thunk as Chan begins eating you out as if his life depended on it. He fucks you with his tongue with obvious vigor, his nose bumping into your clit with each turn of his head.

His hands cup your ass, pulling you closer to his face so he can reach deeper in you, damn near making out with your cunt. Chan grunts and groans into you as he slurps, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

“Fuck, Chan. Fuck you’re t-too fucking good,” Your fingers are in his hair again, knotting into his strands to hold his face against you. The action makes him dizzy, his cock painfully hard and begging to be released from the confines of his sweatpants.

When you cum, which isn’t very long from when he started devouring you, you think you almost pass out. Your vision whites out and your body feels like gelatin, almost falling forward. Chan keeps his grip on your ass, not stopping until you start to yank him away from your pussy.

“I am going to pass out if you keep eating me out like that!”

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you,” he’s breathless when he speaks, licking his lips in the most obscene manner.

“Did I live up to your expectations?” You tease, getting wet all over again as you observe the way his face glistens with your juices and his blown out pupils.

“You have no idea. But we’re not done yet, beautiful.”

Another simple pet name has you shivering and Chan notices, and he loves the way you react to him. He stands upright again and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he leads you to his bedroom. When he gets you in the room he brings you to his bed, pushing you and watching you bounce gently on his quilt. You start to undress what you had left on, keeping your eyes trained on him as you pull your sweater over your head and unhook your bra, tossing it somewhere in the room.

This is just like so many wet dreams he’s had, but this time it’s real life and almost too good to be true.

“You gonna just stand there and ogle me or are you going to get naked and come over here and kiss me?” You tease him, widening your legs to make room for him.

Chan’s eyes are glued to your pussy, still wet and shining for him, and he all but tears his clothes from his body and scrambles onto the bed without another thought.

“Sorry,” he says between kisses. “I was just admiring the goddess waiting for me on my bed,” You’re ready to tease him again, but he cuts you off when he lowers his head and his mouth suctions around one of your nipples, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off of the bed.

Eager lips lavish over the sensitive bud as his hand finds its way between your legs. He circles your entrance with a finger and repeats the motion a few more times before kissing his way over to your other nipple to give it the same amount of attention.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your skin. Your fingers tangle in his dark hair as he covers your chest in bites, licks, and kisses, his finger still teasing you.

As if sensing you about to complain, he finally lets your nipple go, kissing his way down your body until he’s face to face with your pussy again.

“Chan…” you sigh, feeling his tongue dart out to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He takes the time to spend extra attention on your nub, stiffening his tongue and flicking at it at what feels like an inhumane speed.

Chan relishes the gorgeous sound of your cries for him, noises of pleasure mixed in with huffs of his name and whispers of curse words. He loves that these sounds are all for him and because of him. He already knew he’d get addicted to you if he ever was able to get you into his bed and this settles that. He needs to hear you like this for him until he passes away. Even then, he wants to be buried with a recording of your moans and whines.

He shifts on his stomach to get closer to your core and plunges his tongue into you, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue again. The angle allows him room to grind against his quilt, pretending that it’s you he’s rutting against. His eyes slip closed as your thighs do the same around his head and he loses himself as he eats you out with a sense of excitement that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt about anything else.

Chan moves as if he didn’t do the same thing not even ten minutes ago and he only serves in pushing you so much closer to the edge faster than the first time. You call this out to him, tugging at his hair and it only spurs him on. He burrows between your legs even further, letting out more determined grunts that you feel throughout your entire body.

“Ch-Chan, fuck, I’m cumming! Right there, right there - I - fuck!” Your hands keep Chan trapped as you let go, legs spasming as he keeps at it, happily lapping up your release that covers his chin.

Out of breath, your body sags against the bed and you pry your legs open to let him up. “Shit, Chan enough. Come up here and fuck me already.”

“Yes ma’am.” His face is covered in you and his use of yes ma’am sends molten heat up your spine and between your legs again.

He leans over to his nightstand to fish out a condom, but you stop him, shaking your head.

“I’m on the pill, just pull out?”

Your words could’ve very well been a spell with the way they make him dizzy, but he doesn’t question it and only breathes out a yes and positions himself between your legs.

“Are you okay? Tell me to stop at any time and I will, okay?” He checks your face to make sure you’re comfortable and when he sees you nod he starts to ease himself into you slowly.

When his bulbous tip slips in first, you’re instantly letting out small mewls that only intensify with each inch that Chan fills you with.

“Oh my fuck, Y/n, you feel incredible. Shit!” Chan grits his teeth as he takes his time entering you. When he’s finally filled you up to the hilt, he has to take a second and take a deep breath. He’s never felt so close to cumming this quickly since he was in high school. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you truly feel like nothing and no one he’s ever felt. Your soft velvet walls cradle him perfectly, clenching every now and again making him even weaker.

“Move, Channie,” you breathe out, lifting your hips a little to get him going. Chan sits up on his knees, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grabs a hold of your hips.

He starts slow as he fucks you, finding a pace that works for him. Once he gets it, which he does rather quickly, he’s relentless. His hips drive into yours at breakneck speed, balls hitting your ass which each thrust forward.

“Fuck, Y/n, baby, you feel like a fucking dream!” His compliment comes out high pitched as he says it, the sound of his hips slapping against yours almost drowning out his words, but you hear him.

“Yeah, fuck, you feel so good Channie. Fucking me so, so good!” Tears collect at the corners of your eyes as Chan bullies into you over and over again, shoving you further up the bed. “You’re such a good boy for m-me, aren’t you?”

Chan’s eyes cross at your praise, biting his lip so hard he nearly draws blood just to keep himself from bursting inside of you at that moment. He nods like a madman, taking deep breaths to push back his orgasm. He’s so terribly close, but he refuses to cum without you.

He pants above you, eyes darting between your fucked out expression with your eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open, your tits that bounce with each force of his body, to between your legs as he catches sight of himself disappearing into your heat. He catches sight of the white ring of arousal you coat around his dick and he feels himself getting closer and closer.

He’s dizzy with lust for you but still manages to check in with you, forcing out coherent words to ask how you’re doing. You reassure him you’re okay, praising him once again about how good he feels.

“H-harder, Channie. Fuck me harder!”

As with anything else Chan does for you, he doesn’t need you to ask twice as he readjusts his knees before leaning forward to bend at the waist, making sure your legs are still secure around his waist. He leans down, his hands on either side of your head as kisses you, the new angle allowing him to thrust into you at a harder pace.

“Just like that, Chan! Fuck me like that!” Your words tumble out of you in a garbled mess, but he hears you loud and clear. The sensation of your nails digging into his back as you hold him closer sends him into a frenzy as he continues his brutal pace. His new position also allows his pelvis to brush against your clit hard enough to send you over the edge all the way.

“I’m - Y/n, I’m so close. I’m -”

“Me too, Channie, me too. Want you to cum. Wanna see you and hear you,” you cry out, each word almost cut off with a moan.

When you cum, your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and your eyes squeeze shut, stars erupting behind your lids as your body almost convulses underneath him. Your muscles hurt with how hard your body stiffens and your brain only focuses on the drag of Chan’s cock against your hyper-sensitive walls.

The sight alone and your chant of Chan’s name has him cumming next. He pulls out, desperately jerking himself off over you before he panics.

“Wh-where can I?”

“Anywhere, baby! Anywhere you want,” As soon as the last word leaves your lips, Chan yells out your name, his warm seed spurting out and landing on your stomach, some of it even hitting right under your breasts as he milks himself over your body. If you weren’t so tired you’d suck him off to overstimulate him, but for now, you just admire how stunning Chan looks. Skin flushed and chiseled jaw clenched as he empties himself onto your sweaty body.

As he cums, Chan tears up a little because holy shit you’re the best feeling he’s ever felt, and being inside of you is like an out of body experience. He’s no virgin, but this is the first time he’s slept with someone who he has such a strong emotional connection with. It’s the best thing he’s ever experienced in his life, he thinks.

Once he’s released everything he possibly can, Chan rolls off of you and flops next to your spent body.

“Holy shit,” you mumble, taking a deep breath. “I think my soul has officially left the building.”

“Oh, I know mine is gone. It was gone the moment you let me kiss you.” Giggling, you glance over at Chan who’s already looking at you.

“I’ll always let you kiss me now. How can I not?” Chan grins wide enough at you that you think his mouth should probably hurt. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh.

Chan tilts his head at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just admiring how cute you are,” As if not expecting that answer, Chan gets a little shy, eyes looking away from you as you see the tips of his ears reddening. You can’t help but lean up and place a kiss on his ear and he jumps at the light peck. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get cleaned up and ready for bed. You can sleep in my room tonight and we’ll wash your sheets tomorrow. Sound good?”

Chan nods so aggressively, that you almost question how his neck is feeling. He reaches for his tissues on the side table and wipes the cooling cum from your body. He then helps you up from the bed and tosses you one of his towels, wrapping one around his waist.

When you have the towel covering yourself, you both step into the hallway only to freeze when seeing Hansol coming down the hall, and he stops too. He takes notice of the two of you, standing there holding towels over yourselves, and lets out a laugh. He takes his headphones off and lets them drape about his neck, the sound of “All the Small Things” filling the silence between the three of you.

“I take it the mistletoe worked?”

You and Chan share an incredulous look before turning back to your brother.

“You put the mistletoe up?!” You gasp. You had just accepted the fact that you put it up and forgot, but it’s nice to know you aren't going completely insane.

“Well, it was Soonyoung’s idea. He called earlier and told me to put it up somewhere both of you would end up. I wasn’t sure at first, but it looks like it worked.”

“I mean…kind of. But I have so many questions.”

“Ask them later. I’ve been home for a little while but didn’t wanna come into the hallway and uh, interrupt.” Hansol frowns and continues on to his room. Your brother halts his steps before going in and fixes you both with a look. “Oh, and I only have two things to say. One, Chan, if you hurt my sister I will kick your ass. And I’m telling Cheol hyung,” Chan lets out a small squeak and salutes Hansol, promising he’ll treat you like a queen. Hansol nods and then continues. “And two, can y’all like, I don’t know, leave a sock or something on your doors when you’re gonna do this? I came in and heard some noises I never want to hear my sister and best friend making ever again so just give me a chance to put my headphones on.”

“Ugh, sorry,” you grunt, your face heating up in mortification.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Glad you guys can stop trying but failing not to flirt in front of me. Now goodnight and please keep it down for the night, I’m begging you.”

You and Chan promise your brother that you’ll be considerate and he thanks you before shuffling into his room for the night.

“He took that better than expected,” you observe as you and Chan move into the bathroom.

“Yeah. Honestly, I was expecting him either to be grossed out or do something very out of character and hit me or something.”

You snort, turning on the shower water and hanging up the towel you’ve been holding against your body. “Hansol hasn’t swung on anyone or anything since he was at least seven and that was at our old neighbor’s bird because it tried to land on his head.”

Chan cackles at the thought, but it’s quickly replaced with a low sigh as he watches you tuck your hair into a shower cap to keep it from getting wet. Watching you stand in front of him, naked and just existing comfortably makes both his heart beat out of his chest and his dick uncomfortably hard.

You at least can notice the latter, eyes playfully observing his length between his legs. “Someone has an impressive bounce back period.”

“I can’t help it. I have a beautiful, sexy woman standing naked in front of me. What do you want me to do?”

The bathroom isn’t that big so when you brush past Chan, it’s not hard to brush against him. Your thigh grazes his erection and he groans louder than intended, slapping his hand over his mouth when the sound comes out. You can’t help but giggle as you slip into the shower watching him still stand there and gawk at you.

“What you can do is, come join me in this shower and fuck me against this wall, but only if you can be way quieter than you just were.”

The sentence doesn’t even have a chance to finish completely before Chan is practically leaping into the shower, body crowding yours against the tile wall.

“Anything for you, Y/n.” He peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses, biting the skin as he goes.

“Mmm, you have got to stop saying that to me, Channie. You’ll spoil me.”

Chan pulls away, eyes meeting yours with the most serious expression you’ve seen from him since he confessed his feelings for you earlier this evening.

“Good. I want to spoil you and I will until I physically can’t anymore.” Chan rests his forehead against yours, taking a moment to enjoy being close to you as the shower water warms your skin.

“Only if you let me do the same to you, baby.” His eyes flutter at the pet name and you love the way it seems to make his skin flush more.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know, existing? Making me the luckiest man in the world? All of the above?” It’s your turn to get sheepish at his words, playfully pushing against his firm chest.

“Thank you, Chan. You treat me differently from so many other people I’ve been with and you make me feel special.” You hope he understands just how true your words are. The way he’s treated you since you moved in has been with nothing but care and affection, even before knowing he still likes you. Chan is a truly amazing guy and you consider yourself lucky that he wants you in his life like this.

“You are special and you should feel that way. I’ll make sure to keep doing it. And I’ll make sure you feel amazing and special in every way.” Warm hands slide down your body and slip between your legs to rub gentle circles against your clit. The whiplash from the tender moment to the not-so-tender startles you for only a moment before it’s replaced with want as Chan works you up.

Chan’s dancer hips are something to be studied and worshiped with the way in which he drills into you under the spray. You had teased him with being quiet, but you’re the one that needs to sink your teeth into the thick skin of his shoulder to stop from yelling his name.

He laughs between thrusts, but when you clench around him in retaliation, his pace falters and he pouts down at you. You kiss his pout away, keeping your lips together as you both cum, swallowing the possible noise complaints you’d have received otherwise.

Even if Hansol had lectured you both about your noise level, it’d be worth it, especially when you see the blissful look on Chan’s face as he gazes at you. Eyes full of wonder, tiredness, and above all else, love. Even though it hasn’t been long at all, you’ll be surprised if he can’t see the same shining back up at him.

Time seems to fly by, and Christmas suddenly creeps up on you. Thankfully, you finish your shopping before the last minute and get everything you need to, done. You and Chan spend the time leading up to it doing as many cute, coupley things that you can think of while Hansol does his best to not be a third wheel. He rarely ever is, but you’re thankful for the support from your brother nonetheless.

On Christmas morning, Chan is up first, already wide awake and looking at you when you open your eyes. It’s cute if not a little surprising at first. He at least lets you brush your teeth and make yourself decent before ushering you into the hallway. He knocks loudly on Hansol’s door as he passes, telling him it’s time for presents.

His excitement is incredibly endearing and it warms your heart to see him so eager to sit you down on the couch and present you with your first gift from under the Christmas tree. The first box is a small square, secured with a red sparkly ribbon. When you take the lid off, a CD looks back at you in a red, jewel tone case. You smile as you take it out and turn it over, seeing a note on the back along with the tracklist.

Songs for the only woman who’s ever owned my heart. Merry Christmas, Y/n. Love, Your Channie

Tears prick your eyes at the gesture. It’s a small gift, but it’s personal. You don’t think you’ve had anyone make you a mixtape and yet again, it just proves how sweet Lee Chan is.

“Thank you Channie,” you pucker your lips and he eagerly leans down to kiss you, almost tripping into your lap in the process. “Oh!” He jumps up, running back to the tree for another box, this one wrapped in white ribbons. Inside is another rectangle box, but in that is the gift.

“Chan?!”

“You like it?” He asks, taking the bracelet out of the box before you can answer. He gestures to your wrist and you present it, letting him clip the shiny, diamond tennis bracelet. “The sales lady said they’re really popular for the “special ladies in your life” this year and I thought you’d like it since you like pretty jewelry.” You give Chan a watery smile, stopping yourself again from nearly crying. Instead, you get up and pull him into a hug, squeezing his waist hard.

“I love it, thank you Chan,” When you pull away, it’s your turn to go to the tree to retrieve his gifts.

“But I’ve already gotten the greatest gift I’ve ever wanted in my life,” he gestures to you with a flourish, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Guess that means I should return these presents then huh?” You dangle both boxes in the air, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean…you already bought them and wrapped them though so you may as well just…” he makes grabby hands at the boxes and you can’t help but laugh, handing over both gifts to him.

The first one he opens has a shiny silver watch in it that you saw in the mall with Jinah weeks ago and thought of him. It’s your turn to help him as you put it on his wrist, both of you admiring it. He mentions that it’s the nicest watch he’s ever owned and that he’ll never take it off.

When he gets to the other small box, he opens it to see an envelope sitting in the middle of the tissue paper. Curiously, Chan opens it pulling out what’s inside and he nearly passes out.

“Michael Jackson tickets?!”

“Yeah! I heard people at work talk about it like two months ago. He’s going to be in Seoul this summer! I was getting them for you whether we ended up together or not because I know how much you love him. You deserve it!” You beam at him and watch as tears well in his eyes this time. “Aw, Channie!”

Chan jumps from the couch to pull you into a bear hug at the same time that Hansol comes into the living room.

“Hyung, I have to tell you now, but I’m going to marry your sister,” he says in a serious tone.

“Chan!” Laughing, you squeeze his arms, trying to wriggle from his grasp.

“Fine as long as you still stick by my rules.”

“Hansol!” Both men purposely ignore you as they discuss your fictional wedding and Chan brags about his concert tickets. The whole moment fills you with an indescribable warmth, even when Chan finally releases you and lets you sit on the couch.

You didn’t anticipate that you’d end up here when you first thought about leaving your career, but you’re glad you did. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else other than here on Christmas with your two favorite men.

“The ball is going to drop soon!” Seungkwan announces to your group. He turns the volume of the TV up as the countdown shows on the screen.

It’s New Year’s Eve and your large group of friends is huddled in Jinah’s living room to ring in the New Year. You hadn’t known where you’d be ringing in the year 2000 initially and had anticipated it’d be at home, but with Jinah and Joshua dating and being almost inseparable for the last two weeks, she found herself hanging around the rest of the guys as much as you have and since her apartment is the biggest, she had everyone come here.

You’re sitting next to Chan on her couch as you pull your drinks closer. Seungkwan and his partner sit together holding hands, nervously checking the clock on the wall and looking back at the TV. The two of them, Seokmin, and one of their other friends named Mingyu all found out about Y2K around the same time and have been preparing for it leading up to tonight. No matter how many times you, Hansol, and Joshua try to tell them you’ll all be fine, you let the group of conspiracy theorists have their beliefs, knowing once the new year rolls in, they’ll be fine.

Chan often makes fun of them, but you also never miss the way his eyes widen when they talk about the computers exploding and the world ending.

“Three…two…one, happy new year!” Everyone’s voices echo throughout the room as you count down to the new year together, noisemakers and cheers following.

Chan turns towards you, his lips meeting yours as you share your first kiss of the new year. His hands cradle your face, tilting your head back just the slightest to deepen the short yet sensual kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.” He says against your lips.

“Happy New Year, Chan.”

Around the room, the rest of your friends are pouring more champagne and you catch sight of Seungkwan and his partner still sharing their New Year’s kiss, both smiling, likely in relief. Joshua and Jinah are on the other side of the room, her head resting on his shoulder as they watch the fireworks on TV. Chan redirects your attention back to him to kiss you once more, this one quicker yet just as sweet.

And just like that the world doesn’t end, much to Seokmin, Mingyu, Seungkwan’s (and Chan’s) relief, but your new world with Chan in it has just begun. You’re looking forward to what the new millennia and life with Chan will bring.

Net tags: @kflixnet @kbookshelf | Taglist: @aaniag

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bigassmoonchild · 1 year ago

Text

Maple Syrup Masterlist

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETED

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Total Parts: 17

Total Word Count: ~43.3k

Summary: A mission that was supposed to be easy doesn't go your way, but when does it ever when the 141 is involved? Aphrodisiacs that were incredibly powerful were used on yourself and Simon, and with one accident it took over your lives. Now, you need to figure out how to go about life as a newly mated Omega in a world made for Alphas.

Content Tags: Smut, Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die, Heat, Rut, Angst, Knotting, PIV Sex, Biting, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kinda Pregnancy Loss, Teasing, Use of Pet-Names, Simon is shit at talking and emotions, He figures it out tho, Dropping of the L word, Near Death, Pregnancy, Vomiting, Task Force 141 is a Pack, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I just wanted to make sure anyone who needed (or wanted) to have a one-stop shop for the Maple Syrup series (and drabbles pertaining to it) can have it. Please send me asks! Masterlist under the Cut!

🧼 = smut, 🧸 = angst, 💞 = fluff

Main Storyline:

Part 1: Maple Syrup 🧼

Part 2: The Aftermath 🧸

Part 3: Alpha, Please 🧼💞

Part 4: Feral 💞

Part 5: The Hearing 🧸

Part 6: Talk 🧸

Part 7: Lost and Found 🧸 💞

Part 8: Hot and Cold 🧼 🧸

Part 9: Hoops 🧸

Part 10: Thirteen 🧸

Part 11: Tags 🧸

Part 12: Ghost 🧸

Part 13: Tea 🧸💞🧼

Part 14: Meetings 🧸💞

Part 15: Tears 🧸💞

Part 16: Nothing 🧸

Part 17: Happy 💞🧸

Drabbles, Oneshots, Side-Stories:

Simons Rut 🧼

Headcannons 💞🧸🧼

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sixpennydame · 5 months ago

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Part One: The Feint

Pairing: Boxer!Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Word count: 4.5k

Summary:

Choso's life is simple: eat, sleep, train, fight. But everything changes when a mysterious doctor comes into his life.

Author's notes: This is me, branching out and writing for something other than Attack on Titan! But I just love me a dark-haired, misunderstood man. Thank you to my beloved @littlerequiem for beta reading.

Series content/warnings: No curses AU, bare knuckle boxing, violence (in the boxing ring and out), mentions of blood and broken bones, eventual smut

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

AO3 | Playlist

Line dividers: @saradika-graphics

The first time you meet Choso, he’s covered in blood.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’re a doctor.

Or rather, you used to be. It was all taken away from you. Now you’re forced to treat fighters in an underground fighting ring, patching up broken bones and open wounds.

This was your life now, and you’d resigned yourself to that.

You hear your door slide open. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” you say, your back turned.

“Ok...” you hear a low voice respond, “but can I sit down? I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

You look over your shoulder to see a tall man, blood oozing from a wound to his head, the rag he has pressed against it drenched.

“Oh - yes, of course! Let me just...”

You grab sterile gauze and your other instruments from the cabinet and run over to him as he sits down. He looks lethargic, and a little disoriented. You remove the soaked rag, assessing the large gash along his eyebrow.

“That’s deep,” you remark, “you must have been hit pretty hard.”

“Wasn’t too bad. I just bleed a lot,” he answers nonchalantly.

The blood from his head runs down and mingles with blood on his chest.

He notices your downward glance. “That isn’t all my blood.”

“Ah,” is all you can think to say.

You’d hate to see what the other guy looks like.

“Well, let’s get you stitched up then.”

He follows you to your examination table and sits down. You start by cleaning off the blood around the wound, gently dabbing the area while keeping pressure on it. His eyelid is already starting to swell, the deep purple bruising spreading under his eye and to his cheekbone. As you clean his face, you notice that he has a long, dark scar that goes across the bridge of his nose.

“Have you had any blurred vision? Vomiting?” you ask, going through the checklist of a concussion.

He shakes his head. “Nope. I just need you to stitch me up and then I’ll be out of here.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that. I need to check that you’re ok.” You turn on your examination light and he squints, then you prepare a needle with local anesthesia.

“This might sting a bit,” you warn, and when the needle goes in, he winces for a moment, but his stoic expression soon returns.

You get right to work on the wound, silently putting in one stitch, then two, then another, concentrating on mending the skin together.

“I haven’t seen you before. You new?” His voice breaks the silence and your concentration.

“Yeah…I’m just here for a little while.”

He hums a response, and you can feel his eyes glance up at you.

“That’s good. Nobody should stay around here for too long.”

“And how long have you been fighting here?”

He sighs. “Too damn long. But fighting is all I’ve ever known….I can’t really do anything else.”

There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice. You know what it feels like to be trapped, to not have any other recourse. It’s what got you here, afterall.

You make the final stitch, tie the knot, and cut the thread.

He makes to stand up, but your hand on his shoulder stops him.

“I need to check for any signs of a concussion,” you say.

He sighs, but with a nod, he settles himself back down. You put your hands on each side of his head, turning it from side to side gently.

“Any pain?”

“N-no..” His dark brown eyes are looking everywhere but at you.

You go through the rest of the list, checking his vision, coordination, and balance—-he passes it all without a hitch.

This guy can really take a punch, you think to yourself.

“Am I good, Doc?”

“It would seem so, but you need to let that wound heal for a week or two before you fight again.”

“Nope, can’t do. I don’t get paid if I don’t fight.”

He jumps down off the exam table and walks towards the door.

But you grab his arm, pulling the man towards you.

“Hey. You might not care what happens to your body, but I do. And if you’re going to be under my care then you’re going to follow my instructions. No fighting until you get the all-clear from me.” Your voice is forceful and authoritative, and the surprise in his eyes shows that it was not what he was expecting from you.

“Yes…ma’am…er, doctor…” His phrasing is suddenly polite. “I understand. No fighting.”

At that, you let go of his arm. “Good. Come by next week and I’ll see if I can take out those stitches.”

“Next week. Will do, Doc,” he says before walking out the door.

But the following evening, he’s back in your office, straddling one of your chairs and leaning on its back.

“I’m bored...” his low voice whines.

“And so you decided to come here,” you reply dryly while wiping down your examination area.

He doesn’t take the hint, merely watching you as you do your work. Last night, his hair was up in two pigtails that spiked at the top of his head; today, his black hair flows down, almost touching his shoulders. Cleaned up, he’s handsome, even with the swelling from the black eye.

You walk over to him with a small bag of ice. “Here. If you're gonna just hang around here, we might as well take care of that swelling.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He takes the bag, putting it on his still tender bruise.

“I’m not a doctor.”

He furrows his brow at your statement.

“Not fully, anyway. I’m a doctor in residence.”

Was a doctor in residence, but you leave that part out. It’s better not to tell him too much.

Your words seem to be an acceptable explanation. He leans his arms on the back of the chair, then his head. “Well then…what’s your name?”

You tell him. There’s an awkward silence.

“And what’s yours?”

“Choso. Choso Kamo.”

Normally, you don’t bother learning the fighters’ names, or even asking. What would be the point? They’re either too punch drunk to answer you, or they’re in and out of your office without a backwards glance.

But it wouldn’t hurt to get to know this guy a little more, right? The night’s been slow, and it doesn’t seem like he means to leave any time soon.

“And you said you’ve been fighting for a while?” you ask while attempting to grab a jar of cotton balls on a high shelf.

“Yeah. A couple years. I’m paying for my brothers to go to a boarding school outside the city. The public schools are shit here, and I want them to have better opportunities than I did.” He suddenly becomes quiet, contemplative. “I don’t want them to end up like me.”

That was not the answer you were expecting from him. You’d assumed all the fighters here were adrenaline junkies or extreme pain addicts, with overinflated egos to match. But Choso didn’t seem to fit any of your preconceived notions. He’s fighting for his family because he feels he has to.

So you’re not the only one who feels trapped in their circumstances.

He walks over to you, looking down and smiling. “Don’t feel sorry for me, though. I chose this life.”

There’s a silent energy between the both of you as you meet his gaze, but it’s gone in an instant when he looks away, reaching up and getting the jar.

“Did you need this?” he asks, his voice suddenly low and sweet.

“Yeah.... thanks.”

Your fingers graze his as you take the jar and there’s a flutter in your stomach. For someone so beat up and bruised, there’s a gentleness about him; you can see it in his eyes.

The moment between the two of you, however, is cut short when the door is kicked open and a bloodied and bruised fighter is rushed into the room.

By the time you get them bandaged and stitched, and your workspace clean, Choso is gone.

Ah well, you think, better not to get too attached anyway.

But the next evening, he’s back in your office, just like clockwork, leaning in a chair or sitting on a counter, just ever so slightly in your personal space. You use it as an opportunity to check his wound, reprimanding him for not regularly putting on antiseptic ointment.

Your leg brushes his as you dab the ointment on, attempting to ignore that he’s once again watching you silently.

You clear your throat. “You need to take better care of your wounds, Choso, or the scar isn’t going to heal properly. Or worse, it’ll get infected.”

”I don’t really care about scars. I’ve always had them, it seems.”

You look into his eyes, then down at the scar across his nose.

”How’d you get that one?”

“That?” He points to his nose. “That was an unfortunate incident with my father and a metal baton.”

He then tells you about his life, about having an abusive father and an absent mother, and about raising his younger brothers practically on his own. As a teenager he’d given up on school but had found an aptitude for fighting, first in back alleys and parks, and now, in his early twenties, in the underground bare knuckle boxing matches run by various shady gambling organizations.

The gambling here was somewhat legal, but the matches were anything but, pitting fighter against fighter in a bloody free-for-all where the only rule was don’t hit them hard enough to kill them. The fact that Choso was still alive and fighting after all these years was impressive.

Slightly masochistic, but impressive.

From here on, every evening, Choso would come like clockwork. He’d find his way to your office, where you’d assess his wound, put on more ointment (he would always forget), give him some ice for his bruising and just listen to him talk. The man was an open book to you, and after a few days, you felt you had a good idea of who Choso was and what made him tick.

Like how he hates confined spaces but has no problem with heights; that if he’d gone to college, he would have been a preschool teacher because he loves kids; how he likes board games but gets too competitive.

He was odd but sweet, carrying himself in an unassuming way that contrasted vastly from the other fighters that passed through your door. Even though he was part of such a cruel world, he seemed so… innocent, as if he was experiencing life for the first time.

You, on the other hand, kept information about yourself general and brief during your talks with Choso. To tell him about yourself and your life would mean that you trusted him; that he was more than just another fighter coming through your door.

Even moreso, you were afraid of what he’d think if you told him what got you here in the first place.

And so every question Choso asked was met with a quick answer or total silence; that didn’t seem to stop him from asking questions, however; the man was as relentless with curiosity as he was with fighting stamina.

And when seven evenings had passed, you could tell the man was aching to get back into the ring.

“It’s itchy,” he said, gently patting the healing wound with his fingers, just like you’d taught him to do when he felt the urge to scratch it.

The bruising and swelling around his eye and the side of his face had gone down considerably in the past week, faster than you were even expecting.

Something else you didn’t expect was the fact that you really enjoyed his presence in your office every night, so much so that you felt a small pang of longing every time he left.

“Come here, then. Let’s have a look at it.”

He walks toward you, reaching up to pull his hair back into a ponytail, his shirt raising just enough to show his toned stomach. You quickly turn away to reach for your glasses.

There’s a crinkling sound behind you as he sits on the tissue paper covering the examination table. You can feel his eyes on you and you take a few breaths before turning around, avoiding his gaze.

You’ve been this close to him countless times, but why does it suddenly feel different now?

There’s cheers coming from the arena down the hall, and that usually brings commentary from Choso about the fighters, but right now, he’s quiet. You wonder what he’s thinking about.

“You look cute in your glasses,” he says in a low voice that sends vibrations to your core.

“Stop it. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“But it’s true.”

”Shhh...” you command, but his comment has you visibly flustered. You clear your throat as you assess Choso’s wound.

“I’m going to take out the sutures now. It shouldn’t hurt.”

Your examination light clicks on above the two of you and you tilt his head up slightly. He smiles boyishly before looking away.

Realizing it’s pointless to ignore whatever is happening between the two of you, you prod, “Was that your way of flirting?”

”I’ve never been very good at that,” he confesses. “Just stating the facts. One of my many observations of you this week.”

”Oh yeah? And what else have you observed?”

”You purse your lips when you concentrate.”

You suddenly relax your lips as you start cutting the threads of his suture. “I don’t do that.”

He smiles. “And you do this little throat clearing sound when you’re nervous.”

As if on cue, you clear your throat. He smirks triumphantly.

”See?”

”So you’ve discovered every one of my physical ticks. You have them too, you know.”

His eyes glance up to you. “And they are?”

”Well…you...” you snip a few sutures, pausing to pull them out and put on a tray, “...sigh loudly.”

”I… sigh loudly?”

”Yeah…as if you’re bored or tired or something.” Snip goes another suture. “And you have the most expressive face I’ve ever seen. I don’t think you’re physically capable of hiding any of your emotions.”

”Unlike you. You’re like a stone wall. You get defensive and distant every time I ask a personal question.”

“I do -” your words come out clipped and harsh, and he gives you a knowing look, “-not..”

Snip.

Silence.

“Ok, fine. What do you want to know?”

“You’re not wearing a ring, so you’re not married. Boyfriend?”

“No.” You want to leave it at that, but that would just prove him right. “I don’t really have time for…relationships.”

Desperately wanting to deflect, you ask, “What about you? I’m sure you have a hoard of fangirls.”

“Me? Fangirls?” He laughs at that and you give him a reprimanding look to keep still before you continue your work. “You clearly haven’t been to any of the matches. It’s mainly old men drunk off their asses. And I don’t really talk to…girls.”

You take out the last suture and dab at the slight bleeding.

“I’m a girl.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

Your brow furrows at that, and so he adds, “I want to talk to you. And it’s a challenge.”

“A challenge? In what way?”

“No matter what I ask, you’ve barely told me a thing about you. But there’s some things I can tell.”

His hand reaches out and pauses for a moment, before his fingertips caress your face.

“You seem sad,” he says gently, “and alone.”

“What does that mean, alone?” You back away from him. “I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you to pity me.”

“That’s not what I meant -”

He walks toward you, but you turn away.

“Your wound is healed and your bruising has gone down. You should be fine to fight now, so there’s no more reason to come here.”

You can feel his presence right behind you. He says your name but you don’t turn around.

It’s time to stop this. There’s no use in letting someone into your life.

There’s a loud sigh, and then you hear the door to your office open and close.

——

“Goddammit, Choso, why are your hands not taped? Where’s your head been lately?”

Choso stays silent. Was he really gonna tell his trainer that he’s been sidetracked all week because he was thinking about you every moment?

That would get him a slap across the face, and he’d like to avoid that.

This is the first time he’s been back to the arena since that last night he saw you. And every day he’s thought about whether he’ll catch a glimpse of you walking to your office, or in the hallway. After things fell apart so terribly, he wonders if he’d even have the nerve to talk to you again.

Choso’s trainer pushes him out the door. ”Go to the doctor and ask to borrow their tape. Surely she has some.”

Shit.

The cheers and boos of another fight echo against the brick and metal of the hallway as Choso makes his way to your office, each step making his heart beat just a little bit faster.

Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe you’ll turn him away.

(Of course, if he got injured tonight, you’d have no choice but to treat him, that thought had crossed his mind.)

Just as he makes it to your door, it flings open, nearly hitting him in the face. He stops it right as a man with long blue hair slinks out.

”Oh! Sorrrry man!” His voice is innocent, child-like. “You almost got knocked out before you could even fight.” He smirks while holding open the door ceremoniously. “The doctor will see you now.”

Confused, Choso watches as the man practically skips down the hall but his concern quickly changes when he sees you slumped over your counter.

”Doc…”

He cautiously walks towards you.

”Go away.” The words are harsh but your voice is weak and defeated.

Choso gently puts a hand on your shoulder to turn you towards him, but you refuse to look him in the eyes. He lifts your chin up to look at him.”What happened?”

That’s when he sees it. Your bottom lip is split and bleeding.

Choso’s eye squint, studying the wound. “Who did this to you?”

You say nothing, but with the freshness of the wound, he puts it together. And suddenly, he’s seeing red.

He turns on his heels, ready to burst out the door and catch that blue haired bastard who hit you, but you grab his arm, pulling him back to your side.

”Don’t, Choso!” You plead. “Please...”

Your eyes well up with tears and Choso’s hand instantly cups your face.

“What happened?”

You hesitate, as usual, but then, “…I’m in trouble...”

”What kind of trouble?”

You look down, grabbing some gauze on the counter to put on your lip. Once again, Choso is met with silence to his questions.

”Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

”Why do you keep coming here, Choso? No matter what I do…you just keep coming back. I don’t get it.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I like you.” The words come out of his mouth so naturally, words he’s wanted to tell you for days. “You are one of the only people here who is kind to me. I could tell that you really cared. I don’t get that often, if ever.”

He moves closer, placing his hand on top of yours. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Outside the doors of the office, the voices of the gamblers in the arena raise to a crescendo. A muffled sound announces the next fighters.

But here, it feels as if time has stopped. Choso can’t hear anything but the pounding of his own heart in his ears getting louder and louder. His focus becomes completely on you, as if the rest of the world has melted away. It’s the same feeling he gets right before a fight, but this time he’s not looking to conquer anything.

Or maybe he is.

He brings your hand off your face and leans down, his lips mere millimeters from yours.

“Let me in.”

Your breath is ragged and uneven and if he closed his eyes, he swears he’d be able to hear your heart beating as well. But after a few seconds, when neither of you move, he begins to doubt himself.

Then your voice - your sad, soft voice - breaks the silence.

”Choso...”

That’s all he needs to hear to have his lips crashing into yours. It’s a desperate kiss, a hunger arising in him that he’s never felt before. Your arms wrap around his neck and he lifts you up and onto the counter, pressing himself between your legs. He can taste the blood from your lip and it seems to spur a deeper want of you inside of him. His hands roam under your shirt and you moan into his mouth. He wants to touch you, taste you, know everything about you -

“Choso!” A loud voice resonates outside the office.

Both of you break away from the kiss, breathless.

“Shit. I’ve gotta go.” He looks at the door, expecting his coach to barge in any second; when he doesn’t, he looks back at you. You look so vulnerable right now, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to see how much further this can go, how much more you’ll open up to him, but he knows he can’t miss a fight.

“Wait for me. It’s not safe for you to leave by yourself tonight. I’ve just gotta.…go do this real quick.”

This. As if his livelihood doesn’t depend on it.

“Alright,” is your answer.

And with that, it feels like Choso has been hit with a shot of adrenaline. He kisses you again, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically, because he hears you suck in a breath.

“I’ll be right back.” He looks down and sees some medical tape on the counter. “And I’ll return this.”

He runs out the door and down the hall, the tape in his mouth as he winds it around his palms and knuckles.

You’re gonna wait for him.

He’s never wanted a fight to finish so fast.

”Choso! Where the hell have you been? You’re up!”

He ignores his coach and starts warming up, jumping a bit and then throwing a few punches. Just outside the door beyond are the lights, the cheers, and his opponent.

But right now, all he wants is you.

”And weighing in at 187 pounds….the man who always brings a bloodbath…CHOOOOSOOOOO!!”

——

You hear the announcer scream Choso’s name and the cheers that follow.

Let me in… he’d said.

You’re not sure if you’re shaking from being hit in the face or from the intense kisses that you shared with Choso just moments before. Maybe it’s a little of both.

You wring your hands and pace the floor, your mind racing, trying to understand everything that just happened. Sooner or later, you knew the people you agreed to work for would come to collect - but no matter what you did, it never seemed to be enough. They take and take and take…

And that man with the blue hair - it seemed like he’d taken such joy in hitting you, seeing the fear in your eyes when he made his threats.

Maybe you should just leave, right now. Pack up your stuff and get out of the city, leave everything behind.

But it would be no use, you knew they’d eventually find you.

And Choso…he told you to wait for him. It felt so good to be in his arms, touching you, kissing you. He made you feel wanted and safe, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’ve never been interested in watching the matches before, but now you find yourself walking down the hall and into the dark and crowded arena. The crowd is lively, throwing out words of praise and curses at both the fighters. You stay in the back, and through the clouds of cigarette smoke, you see him.

It’s only been a few minutes since the fight started, but Choso’s body is already coated in a layer of sweat. There’s a wild look in his eyes but his face is serious, almost calm. He weaves and bobs in between his opponent’s punches, getting his own punch across his cheek, then one to his chin. Choso takes a few steps back as the man ambles forward, shaking his head a few times while his trainer yells something to him from the ropes.

The opponent lunges toward Choso but he puts him in a headlock and starts punching his face repeatedly. In an ordinary fight, a referee would break them up, but there are no referees that you can see. The man eventually works himself free from Choso’s grasp, his nose bloody and more than likely broken. He attempts a jab but Choso counters; he hits him hard across the cheek and the man falls to the ground.

”Finish him off!” “Beat him to a pulp!”

”Choso! Choso! Choso!”

The voices raise higher and higher, egging the victor on. But Choso merely walks to his corner, drinks some water, spits it out, and leaves the ring.

In a matter of minutes, it’s all over, the loser in a pool of blood.

You rush back to your office, knowing you’re going to have to set that man’s nose.

——

True to his word, Choso comes to your office at the end of the night.

You’ve just finished treating his opponent and stitching up a cut on his right cheek before sending him away with his trainer and crew. You’d also noticed that the bruising on the man’s knuckles was deep purple and swelling fast; no broken bones, but it looked as if he’d hit something hard and immovable, not another human body.

When you look at Choso, who’s freshly showered and wearing a grey hoodie over a white t-shirt, leaning against your office door, he looks as if he’s just had a walk in the park.

You put on your jacket and grab your things before making your way toward him.

”Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

His hand, that just moments before had beaten someone to a bloody pulp, was now outstretched toward you.

An offering. And a surrender.

You decide to accept.

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 months ago

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That's a Real Fucking Legacy: The Marks You Saw

Pairing: Joel x f!reader (formerly Tommy x f!reader). Word Count: 2.1k+ Warning: Alcohol mention. Drugs mention. Emotional word vomit. Author's Note: And you can tell a friend to tell a friend...she's baaaaack. Not really but I have been dealing with some heavy stressors at work and in my personal life that has stunted my writing so it felt good to get something out that I'm actually proud of. I think? Anyway... no beta, we die like men.

“Do you ever see me?”

Leaning back, you assess the man across from you—the scar that’s nicked into his eyebrow, the freckles that are scattered like spray paint across his nose.

The deep brown, almost black, of his eyes that match his brother’s.

Your daughter’s.

“I'm looking at you right now,” you say and it’s immediately apparent that’s not what he meant.

But you knew that.

“No, sweetheart—“

“I asked you not to call me that,” you remind him. “That's not who we are to one another anymore, Tommy.”

A terse nod.

“And no, I do not see you when I’m with him.”

“Did you ever?”

Did you ever?

Did you?

It’s been so long.

Pushing out a breath, you suggest that maybe you did in the beginning. “I was devastated, Tommy,” you say. “I was imagining the worst things possible, I was having waking nightmares which”—you laugh—“says a lot given the state of our world today. Especially in the Zone.”

His eyes take on that glassy look, the one he gets when he thinks too hard or sits for too long. The same way his brother’s do.

Something you hope your daughter will never mirror.

“But never me? Never now?”

He’s so still, you wish he would move or stand—breathe. It’s still so weird to see him breathing, to see him talking. Instead he just sits there on the other side of the small living room where the only thing that seems to rise and fall is his gaze on every part of you not covered by the threadbare fabric of twenty year old clothes.

“Tommy, I saw you dead and then I saw white, hot blinding rage. But I didn’t go to your brother as a replacement for you, I went because you told me to. If you’re still holding a grudge, I suggest you find whatever’s left of a mirror and confront yourself about it because I didn’t do anything wrong and neither did he.”

“But—“

“Tommy,” you cut him off, “I will always love you but I will never again love you like I did.”

Another nod and he finally does move, readjusting himself slightly in the chair as if he’s uncomfortable. But this discomfort is his own fault. You tell him so as soon as he even dares to say it.

“At some point, Tommy, you have to find closure because we cannot keep having these conversations—“

“Because it’ll hurt my brother’s feelings?”

“Because it’s hurting you, it’s hurting me to hurt you like this over and over again. And, yes, it hurts Joel. If I had ran into your arms when you showed up out of nowhere, he would have stepped to the side and remained quiet and let you back into my life. He still would. He is still afraid that I will decide he is too far gone and too fucked up and he will wake up to an empty bed and an empty crib because I went back to you.”

“Because I’m so easy?” He asks. And, somehow, it’s the first time you smell the whiskey stuck so heavily to him.

At no point during the day have you seen him drinking. Not out in the gardens or the community center. He didn’t even smell like this when he showed up here and you didn’t think his presence was due to anything other than not wanting to be alone.

But that’s as far as memory can serve. Because your attention and all your senses have been occupied by other activities.

Like the smell of the stables when Miri wanted to see the horses.

Or the smell in the crook of her neck, the smell that lingers in her hair.

Pulling her sleeping form tight to your chest, you inhale it again—the soft baby smell that’s going away.

“You are far from easy, Thomas Miller,” you say. “An easy man wouldn’t torture himself like this. But that’s what you’ve always wanted, Tommy. You want to be some complicated soul who saves the day. You already did. Me, Joel, Miri… we’re all here.”

Tommy inhales, deep, and stands to his full height. “I should leave you,” he says, before laughing and pushing both hands through his hair. “I guess I already did that though, huh?”

“Tommy…”

Stopping at the door, he takes another deep breath, his broad back expanding and deflating just as fast as he says, “more and more, I see my brother wearing the same marks you used to give me but it’s different.” A hiccup escapes its way from deep within his chest and he turns until his back is to the door. “He is covered in you in every way I always thought I was.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

His head shakes. “No, I-I think I’m trying to apologize to you.”

Looking down again into Miriam’s fragile, sleeping face, you see all the parts of her father truly starting to take shape across her features. Golden skin with a smattering of freckles; a strong nose set against soft cheeks—perfect, gentle little girl who looks like such an imperfect but gentle man.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you say but when you look back for Tommy, he’s already slipped through the door to make the short walk back across the street to his own home.

Purple blooms beneath the golden skin just below his ear, in that spot that smells most like him. By now, it’s about as permanent as any tattoo ever was because you spend your days and nights putting it there.

But not just there.

He has marks along his collarbone, marks bitten into his chest and shoulders and the side of his hand.

Some happened as a byproduct of stifling your pleasure against his skin. Others because you didn’t catch the moans in time so he had to do it for you. But, if you’re being honest, all of them are a subtle way of saying back off.

Not just to the curious eyes of the horny, lonelier women in the compound but to the world, too.

After all, all these bruises sucked into his flesh are the same purple-red of the knotted scars that have risen like unwelcome mountains across his body.

Your way of saying lust-filled eyes can’t have him and neither can the earth.

Your way of saying mine.

He came home far too late with eyes way too tired. He showered, rubbed mint soap across his body and tried so hard to be quiet on his big, heavy feet. But you were already up, eyes open to stare at the wall while you waited for him to come to bed and the only thing that kept running through your mind is Tommy’s question.

“He asked me if I still saw him,” you whisper across the short distance between where you lay.

“You see him all the time,” Joel says lazily, one arm draped across your body. “Hell, you could go see him right now. Just open the window and throw a rock at his.”

“Joel, you know what he meant,” you say.

“I do,” he affirms. “And I think about the possibility enough already so I don’t need to commiserate it with the target of all my greatest fears.”

A beat passes and his breathing begins to even out and, when you ask him if Tommy is really his biggest fear, you hope he’s already asleep so he doesn’t have to answer it.

So you don’t have to hear it.

Instead, Joel pushes up onto his elbow, body coming to hover over yours as he flips you back into the mattress and says, “he is now.”

“Why?” You ask, circling the edge of one of those darker patches etched into his skin. “Why would Tommy be your biggest fear when you know what’s out there?”

He shrugs and the movement of his body slips your touch further down, over the ridge of the scar to shatter the illusion that it could’ve been just another one of yours. They all look the same in the dark.

In the dark, he was never hurt.

“My brother is always going to love you and he’s always going to think our daughter should be his,” he says. “He's always going to be the first one of us that you loved.”

“That Tommy is gone,” you say. You don’t know how many times you have to say it.

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“It should be the way I look at you that matters,” you tell him. “It should always only ever be the way that I look at you.”

Joel smiles, that lone dimple pocketing his left cheek, as he drops himself down across you and all of his weight from all of this world comes down with him as your arms wrap around his neck with fingers tangled into wild, unkempt curls that have gone so gray.

That’s when his breathing does even out, soft snores overtaking him as you keep lying there and looking at the ceiling.

In the dark, he was never hurt and it hits you then that the dark is the only place Tommy lets himself hurt.

Sunrises aren’t your thing but you’re already up and dressed by the time it comes around. Usually, by the time you wake, most of the compound is up and working—playing in the sun where you don’t like to be.

For so long, night hasn’t been safe. Not even back in Boston. But here? It’s safe for you. He was never hurt in the dark, your face was never gray and bloodshot in the dark. Miri never had to see her parents falling apart in the dark.

That’s where Tommy finds you. Sitting on the rickety old bench outside in his yard, watching your breath swirl through the air in the early morning light, your feet kicking like a little kid’s.

“You're up early,” he drawls. He sounds like shit.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say.

“You want coffee?” He asks.

“That depends,” you say, “you still slipping Seth’s rust bucket”—your nose scrunches—“whatever he has the audacity to call that in there?”

Tommy smiles for the first time in a while. “It's alcohol,” he says.

“It's piss,” you retort. “And no, I don’t want that or the coffee it goes in. I just need to say something to you.”

He moves to sit before you stop him, pulling back further into the old, worn wood as you push your hand out. If he’s hurt about that, he doesn’t let it show.

“I’m giving you until the end of the day to toss every drop of everything you’re hoarding,” you tell him. “The pills, the booze. I find it incredibly disconcerting that we’ve made it this far in a world without everything that you’ve been able to find it.”

“Swee—“

“No,” you cut him off. “I let you do a whole lot of speaking last night, Tommy, and I let you hurt me. I have continued to let you hurt me and hurt my husband and I will not let you do that any longer. I don’t care that you’re a grown man, I don’t care that you blame me for this broken heart of yours, but I do care about you. Because, yeah, I put myself all over him. I dig my nails and my teeth and the heels of my feet into him every chance I get. But I do it because of you.”

“To make me jealous?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

Laughing, your head shakes. “Because I lost you,” you tell him. “All I had was a note that said you wanted better for me and all I thought about was how it really meant you wanted better than me. You pushed yourself out into this world without so much as a goodbye and you had no parts of me stuck to you reminding you to come home. I don’t make that mistake with Joel.”

“He's the better for you.” It’s not a question. Tommy Miller may be a lot of things but he is not a dumb man.

“Yeah,” you affirm, pushing off the bench to stand, “and I need you to get your shit together so you can find the better than me.”

He doesn’t speak, there’s no response even as you step back towards your own house across the street but it doesn’t matter and you won’t hear it.

Quietly, you push the door closed, toeing off your shoes at the entrance and pulling each layer from your body before crawling back into the bed you left an hour ago.

And if Joel noticed, if he woke up, it didn’t keep him that way. He doesn’t stir when you force your cold body back beneath his either. It’s enough to bring a very silent prayer forward from your lips to the same ceiling you stared at for so long last night.

The Tommy that could’ve been died in your heart a long time ago and it’s about time the one who scares Joel does, too.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #wyn writes (poorly)#joel miller x you #tommy miller x you

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medusapelagia · 4 months ago

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14 The betrothal

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Lake), @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: prince and princess ), @aug-kissed (prompt: Hand Kiss) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Beta Robin Buckley, violence, blood and injuries, vomit Words: 1563

If Steve was a proper omega he wouldn't be on that stupid carriage, to be shipped from Loch Nora's Kingdom to Forest Park like an unwanted pack.

A proper omega would honor his family, stay home, cross-stitch animals and flowers, and learn poems and music. But Steve never was a proper omega and after he rejected his last suitor his father told him that he wasted his last opportunity to choose a proper alpha and that he was going to find one willing to take in a rebel omega like him.

Male omegas are a blessing and a curse: they are very rare, so Steve's father was able to ask for a high dowry from whoever wanted to marry him, but there weren't many alphas willing to tie their life to a male omega.

Steve has heard talking about Forest Park. A lot. And never in a good way.

They have a very bad reputation, but they are rich, so Steve has no doubt that his father got a really good dowry for selling him to those people. Well, not selling, betrothing him.

Thankfully, Robin is coming with him. Moving from one Kingdom to another and being completely alone would have been terrible, at least his beta best friend is trying to make him laugh by making silly comments and distract him from the long journey.

Even if the carriage is big and cozy, spending hours sitting on a carriage isn't that comfortable, and Steve's royal ass is in pain.

He doesn't even have enough space to stretch his long legs because in the carriage with them, there are the two guards King Munson himself sent to escort the future bride.

The guards are heavily armed, as they were expecting something to happen, and Steve isn't totally surprised. After all, Forest Hill has a terrible reputation. Their King was an outlaw before he rebelled and became king by killing everyone and conquering the castle, so Steve isn't really looking forward to moving in the same bed with a notorious assassin. But it’s not his choice anymore.

Savages, that's the kindest word Steve’s mom used to define those people, while what everyone thought but none dared to speak out loud was that King Munson was the new Warlord.

A warlord. Not a high-born, just a man with enough power and money to hire the strongest knight and mercenaries to help him keep his power. And Steve is going to get married to a Warlord’s son, or nephew, he's not really sure. Bloodlines are mixed in their Kingdom and they don't give a fuck about dynasties and the only blood that they care about is the one the blood spit by their enemies.

Steve has heard terrible stories about how cruel and violent those people are. One of Steve's servants has told him that Prince Munson killed his first wife with his own hands because she wasn't too sick to give him a child.

Being a male omega Steve knows he can bear pups, even if his heats are irregular and it's harder for him than for other omegas, but he never thought that the ability to bear a child or not could have been the cause of his premature death.

His scent gets sour and acrid while he thinks about the monster that he's supposed to wed. Maybe he should have been more pliant with his previous suitor. Lord Hagan wasn’t that bad after all. A little bit too presumptuous for Steve’s taste but he doubts he would have had him killed if he wasn’t able to bear a child.

"You ok? Do you want to take a break? Stretch your legs a bit?" Robin proposes, drawing soothing circles with her thumb on Steve's hand.

"Yeah, that would be nice." He confirms, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"No break and no stretching. We are still in hostile territory." One of the guards replies without even looking at Steve.

"Couldn't we stop just for a moment?" Robin insists, "We have been on this stupid carriage for hours!"

But an arrow flying through the window and ending his journey a few inches from her face makes her shut up.

"Stay down!" One guard yells, yanking Steve toward the carriage’s floor so abruptly that he falls badly on his own wrist, spraining it, but he doesn't have time to yelp because the carriage stops in the middle of the woods.

"Stay inside!" The first guard yells, jumping out of the carriage and drawing his sword. For a moment Steve catches a glimpse of a bloodied body staring blankly at him with a long arrow in the one eye socket.

"It's ok. It's ok." Robin tries to soothe him, releasing beta relaxing pheromones, but the other guard stops her, complaining that he can't afford to get relaxed by her pheromones, so Steve and Robin hug each other, trying to hide themselves from the attackers.

"He's here!" Someone yells, kicking the carriage door open, but the second guard is quick to pierce the intruder from side to side, what he wasn't expecting was someone else opening the door on the opposite side and grabbing Steve with no kindness, yanking him by his hair.

Robin screams, reaching out toward Steve, the guard turns his head just for a moment and another attacker takes his chance to stab him in the leg while Robin keeps screaming, but the clenching of the metal armor is so loud that Steve almost can't hear her.

A strong hit on the back of his head makes everything turn a warm black and he loses consciousness.

***

When he opens his eyes, Steve is surprised to find himself resting with his back against a big oak tree. In front of him the bluest lake he ever saw.

He puts down his hand, trying to get up, but immediately desists when a bright pain makes him whimper.

"I would stay put if I were you. Your wrist is sprained and you took a nasty hit to the head. Are you feeling dizzy?"

Steve startles, looking around himself, and finally finds a tall man with dark eyes and a nasty scar on his face staring at him with an amused smile.

His kidnapper!

The omega tries to crawl backward, but the unknown man is right, his wrist hurts too much and he still feels lightheaded.

"I think I'm going to puke…" he mutters, before turning on his side and emptying his stomach on the green grass.

Surprisingly, his kidnapper is quickly at his side, holding his hair out of his face, whispering encouraging words while he holds him to his chest with one arm.

When Steve's body gets limp into the kidnapper's arms, he takes a moment to breathe in his scent.

Embers and earth.

An alpha.

A proper omega should never be left alone with an alpha who's not family!

Steve tries to wriggle out of the stranger's hold, but he gently chuckles and pushes Steve's neck closer to the scent gland on his neck, "You're fine, omega. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm betrothed." He objects in a soft voice, while the alpha pheromones make him pliant and docile.

"That's what you're worried about? your honor?" The unknown alpha chuckles.

He has a nice laugh, Steve decided in his drugged state of mind, and he smells delicious. No other alpha ever smelled so good to him.

Steve must have said something because a very pleased rumble comes from the alpha's chest.

"You don't smell bad yourself, sweetheart."

Steve should be ashamed of himself, but the alpha's sturdy body is holding him tight and for the first time in his life he feels safe in an alpha's embrace.

"That's good. Come on, sip some water for me to wash away that bad taste."

The omega prince doesn't really know if the alpha is using his alpha's voice, or if he's already scentdrunk or whatever, but the only thing he wants to do is obey this alpha.

Steve spits a few times to clean his mouth from the horrible taste and then drinks some water, while the alpha keeps holding him tight.

The man’s wearing a beaten armor, stained with blood, and for a moment Steve wonders if he will kill him, but the way he keeps holding him makes him think that he’s affected by Steve’s scent as he is from his.

They aren't left alone for long. When Steve turns his head someone is riding toward them. Too many people.

Steve turns toward the alpha with eyes wide with worry, "You have to go. My future husband will kill you. He's a warlord! He won't be pleased you kidnapped me!"

"Kidnapped?" The alpha asks, staring with confusion at the omega, feeling Steve's head with gentle fingers, "How badly did they hurt you, omega?" he asks worriedly, and this time is Steve's turn to frown in confusion.

“I might not look so but I’m a prince. And I was on my way to wed the Forest Park’s Warlord's son. If they catch you, they’ll kill you.”

Eddie bursts out in a loud laugh, shaking Steve who quietly complains of being jostled by the huge Alpha's body.

"Let me introduce myself," the alpha says, grabbing Steve's uninjured hand and kissing the palm of his hand in the most chivalrous way, "I'm Edward Munson, King Munson's nephew, your betrothal."

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narenohate · 7 months ago

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the reckless, the wild youth (WIP)

(since eda and raine's backstory is so different in this AU, i'm pondering a comic about the two of them and just how and why it went so wrong) (infodump.... ramble?? ig down there + design notes on how my progress is going with this project)

Seb's design notes: anyways i've been dancing with the idea of making canis caninam's witches more animalistic. because yeah im just having fun at this point. bonus, sphynx / owl beast design. i'm not a big fan of her canon design, and it's not because i think she's scary.

my current inspo for the witch faces is a mix of good ol' na'vi 3d models, deerchip's s work (they're on twitter!!) and olya bossak's anthropomorphic portraits!! i didn't just want them to be elves who purr, tbh... though more and more as i post this i'm kind of hoping to get harrassed off the fandom for my weird ideas and "forced" to make this into an original story.

ramble on story derived from conversation with Bow (idea beta tester, victim of the circumstances of my hyperfixation, beautiful white hetero man who got here by accident). IT'S A ROUGH, UNEDITED DRAFT. PARTS OF IT ARE DIRECTLY FROM A CONVERSATION. IT'S ROUGH. Eda is born to the Clawthorne family - daughter of Gwendolyn, a healer, and Dell, a toy maker who married into her clan as to escape the hardships of living outside the barrier, amidst bestial demons... and probably something else, smart enough to scare him into hiding, though that usually goes unsaid. She is one of a pair of twins, and, for the first fourteen suns, eleven moons and twenty-nine sundowns of their lives they are inseparable.

It's their fifteenth birthday when Dell gives them an old grimmoire that has been in his family for centuries. Some of its words have been altered with the years, rewritten and repaired by generations, their meaning lost - symbols re-drawn from memory with each unfortunate accident.

Lilith partakes in that tradition - having to repair a page of a long-winded wild-spell meant to be cast by a powerful warlock, after she spills some tea on it.

that night, the two set out to camp with a group of their friends -hyacinth, a selk nobleman who, despite his young age, served under belos as his huntsmaid and personal cook, and his apprentice, darius, a prodigy who'd already been branded for a coven, and who'd been personally selected by belos to be a companion for the golden-haired boy who'd earned his favor.

and, of course, trailing slightly behind, raine whispers. their glasses are foggy and they already smell like the alcohol they brought to the party.

nobody leaves the outermost wall to camp these days, of course, so the bunch of them settle in an abandoned park, before doing as teenagers do when provided alcohol, and getting plastered.

at some point, eda, raine and hyacinth get into an argument of some kind - one that results in eda opening the grimmoire she brought along, and going along with the plan she'd nearly abandoned: using her rudimentary knowledge of the old tongue the tome was written in, she makes a circle out of salt around herself, and reads the spell.

its words are all wrong. whatever she summons she angers, and, at first, nothing happens.

then, as she and raine lay together on her hammock the afternoon after the party and the tiny backyard camping "trip", eda falls ill.

it was fever and it was vomiting. then the lining of her stomach, then her gums and her teeth and her tongue. her skin sagged and it was like she was all liquid inside it.

raine slept by her bedside, singing to calm her down whenever she awoke. lilith laid in the old manor's basement, endlessly brewing potion after potion to try and quell the pain that refused to ebb away.

darius and hyacinth did not go to belos - instead they were stopped at the door by the clawthorne patriarch, and with his help, took a griffin out of the city, found an old thing. it called itself queen of bats, and it was made of wood, and it knew dell very well.

the three give her the griffin, and spend four sunsets and three sunrises walking back with their prize - it's a living tether, a wooden owl dell had made as a toy for his daughter when she was very young. filled with the griffin's soul, it was given by its enchantress the mission of tethering its holder.

they arrive to a burning house. darius and dell don't speak of it, but the only time they both see the emperor is when they deliver his selk concubine's mutilated carcass at the throne room, laid at his feet like an offering.

dell lost one eye to his daughter, the other eye and both hands to the emperor.

raine was gone to everyone except the thing that eda had become, a sphynx that spared their life for the price of their song. they land atop a rocky cliffface, a few miles away from the outer border of the bonesborough wall - soon, something finds them.

the owl her father had carved for her followed eda, and raine became sure, at that moment, that she wasn't lost.

lilith and darius compensated for hyacinth's loss, sitting for years at the foot of the throne as the emperor's guards, until belos found it fit to entrust them both to make for him a new selkie servant - they took hyacinth's old heart, a blue stone that ebbed and flowed, and they took the lungs of a dragon, the innards of a maiden, and all the blood they could get from a seal-devil, along with a tiny fragment of bone that had been strapped to hyacinth's old heart.

they spend day and night putting him together - the rough face of clay mixed with blood, the organs gracefully gifted, the bone.

they bury the sculpture. a boy digs himself out of the dirt while they sleep in the temple, curled up together in a mess of ratty old sheets they'd found.

they name him hunter because he was more demon than boy, but had hyacinth's face, and, though something seemed very wrong, he had somehow killed and dragged in a rat to eat by their side during the time they'd spent asleep.

belos allows the name to stay, and grants them both titles and robes of white, and allows them to mary whomever they wish.

lilith secludes herself to a temple and studies every grimmoire she can, and darius takes on apprentice after apprentice, teaching them how to pull the throat strings of a bard out, and how to best slay a sphynx.

hunter looks just like hyacinth, and, despite how strongly he'd imprinted on his makers, they both hate him from just the look in his eyes.

lilith finds the portraits of every other selk concubine, every other golden guard.

it's always hyacinth's face. meanwhile, raine managed to unearth eda - partially.

they bind her to them, and she remembers very little, but she is undeniably herself, and despite the tragedy of her body, or maybe because of it, she seeks to cause chaos. she embraces the life of a wildling, and raine follows in her stead.

a year passes. then two. three, maybe. probably more, considering everything that comes after. what really matters is that, as raine grows more frantic in their search for something that can help her, occasionally coming in contact with the fragmented clawthorne family's matriarch (before finding her treatments too harsh), all in search for a way to stabilize eda's mind and body...

she accepts that fate she was given.

the system of castes and castings and divisions becomes pointless to her, and she eagerly, easily pushes raine to rebellion by her side. the wards around the walls have nothing against her - usually, griffins and dragons don't fly that high.

raine found gwen's attempts to heal her daughter too much - but at some point, more than a decade after the two set out together, a night after raine settles a chain with a golden ring around her massive paw's wrist, they catch wind, through that shared palisman of theirs, that raine's mother has passed.

they leave eda to sleep atop the church, tail around its tower, and enter it to pray.

they meet someone - a who who dances on the edge of being a what - and, in their grief, bear to her their heart, and are offered a deal in return.

all they want in life, for a price, their mind.

eda wakes up, a moon later, transformed, and with every memory made vague, erased except for vague outlines.

naked but for a wedding ring around her neck, in a dark, low chunk of the city, with the body of a beast, she's seen as exotic enough to work the night for a couple years, as she catches up on a life she lost, and takes the name of a harpy, not knowing she's a clawthorne.

… clawthorne health clinic seems so familiar of a name, though. she jots down their contacts. attends every speech given by darius deammonne, head of the carnomantis force, and often borrows from the library books on forbidden magic written or translated by one lilith clawthorne.

it's not familiar.

she feels like it should be, though. so she digs into it all - never takes the name of clawthorne, but as her social standing falls and she teeters ever closer to living outside the walls, the people around her take to calling her the owl-lady.

she eventually takes to stealing from old homes - the abandoned sort, full of hobs and rats and hexes she can easily bypass, with magic as strong (as well-trained, despite the lack of any memory of schooling) as hers.

there's a farm-house, though, mostly burnt, long ago vacated, that feels very familiar when she enters. she tears up despite not remembering her, when she recognizes her twin's face beside her own in a portrait. in the rubble of a bedroom, a large woven hammock still has an old violin sitting broken on top of its torn fabric.

inside its case, the thing she knows she gave up her memories - or maybe something more - for, sits waiting and patient.

... a key to the human realm. she knows a lot about it, and remembers an unbound fascination.

(her one visit goes very wrong, of course - but she can spy through her palisman's little eye, so it's worth it. it's all worth it.)

meanwhile, raine wakes up, married to a woman whose face is foggy to them, with three apprentices who don't know their name but promise they've been there under them for weeks.

whomever wiped their mind didn't bother to take the human-styled wedding ring off their finger.

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pennyellee · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER VI - súton

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, mentions of alcohol, manhandling, mentions of murder, gun use, abduction, attempted non-con, gaslighting, vomiting, anxiety, choking, decapitation, strong language, smut, loss of virginity

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 11,1K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VII

súton (n.) twilight; the approach of death or the end of something

Images flashed through her mind like fragments of a dream, mixing reality with a disorienting haze. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for what was to come. She was still in her temporary private quarters. Was it all just a dream? Confusion ran through Y/N like the hot blood inside her veins.

The engine of the roaring car pierced her ears and her vision was still blurry. “Where am I?” she whispered, her voice slowly progressing to realise the situation. She grabbed the letter seat, trying to pull herself up.

“Chan-yeol?” she asked, pressured.

“Little bird, are you ready to fly away?” he laughed. Y/N looked at him with terror in her pupils.

“Are you out of your mind? You just signed your own death certificate Chan-yeol!” This is bad. Her thoughts spoke to her in distress, each and one of them telling her to do something.

“What, a sudden change of heart? Did you not want me to ship you off to the new land?” said the man, accelerating the car.

“He’s going to slaughter everyone!” she screamed.

“You did not think of that when you ran the last time or the time before, why now Y/N?” He spitted his words out, looking at her through the mirror. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to collect herself before she would lose her mind for good.

“He has the whole family on a silver platter there Chan-yeol! Turn the car right now!”

“We’re almost there.” He declared.

“Yoongi?!” was the first name that came to her mind. Voice full of fear. The sound of urgent footsteps echoed around her, crescendoing with the abrupt swing of the door. However, the one she sought, the man whose name she called, was not in her sight.

“Namjoon?” she called out, the surprise evident in her voice, interwoven with a thread of relief.

“How do you feel?” He asked, slowly approaching her petite form.

“What— I don’t understand,” she struggled to articulate her bewildered thoughts.

“You’ll thank me later.”

Chan-yeol’s words cut through the frosty air. He steered the car to the side of the road. Snow was everywhere she could see, each surface draped in ethereal white. Without waiting for the vehicle to come to a complete halt, Y/N flung the car door open, her steps bold as she ventured out into the wilderness.

The direction from which they arrived became a backdrop as she briskly distanced herself from Chan-yeol’s presence.

“This might be your last chance to flee this wicked world, girl.” His voice, heightened in intensity, reached her ears. Y/N stopped in tracks — the ultimatum clear.

Her family on one side, her newfound reality on the other – a choice lay before her.

“You have no idea what you just did!” she screamed defiantly, she refused to spare him a glance. “You’ve ruined everything!”

“Y/N?” a different voice echoed and her eyes widened at the unexpected interruption.

“I did not, Namjoon. I did not try to run away. You have to believe me!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic attempt to convey her innocence. Namjoon, his touch gentle, enveloped her small hands in his.

“Shhh… I know, it’s alright.” Namjoon cooed at the bride. And that’s when every single picture came back to her mind.

“How—how did you get here, for the love of God?” Y/N pivoted towards the speaking man, memories of their shared past flooding back as if the study hall of Shenyang’s University was just yesterday.

“I came for you,” he declared.

“For me?” She asked, disbelief in her voice.

“For me?!” she repeated, a frustrated laugh bubbling up. “Now you’re coming for me.” Y/N recalled the day he declared that she was in this battle alone, a stark contrast to their current proximity. They were never that close, he was too afraid to even hold her hand or maintain prolonged eye contact. But she considered him to be a friend, nonetheless.

“I love you,” he confessed, staring directly into her eyes.

“You love me?” She asked, mocking him, a bitter edge to her tone.

“Where was this love when I needed to run the hell out of the continent, huh?” She closed the distance between them, pushing him with aggressive force.

“You're a coward, Han Chen,” she spat, the venom in her voice cutting through the tension.

“I have a plan, Y/N,” he replied, brushing off her words even as they stung.

“Hmm… you have a plan. And what is this plan exactly?”

“He won’t want you if you’re ruined, Y/N.”

His words hit her like a cold gust of wind, and she gasped at the implications.

The haunting melody of that familiar song resonated in her mind once again.

“He—he attempted to rape me.” Y/N looked through her teary eyes directly at Namjoon's, whose mimics told her, she is right.

“He paid for that with his life.”

“You’re going to kill us all!” Her words became the truth once the first bullet was fired, finding its mark in Chen’s head. Y/N witnessed his eyes blackening, a vacancy replacing the spark of life.

He was gone. Blood dripped down his neck, staining her chest, her breath hitching as her vision blurred. Chan-yeol swore and fumbled with his gun, leaving Y/N to crumple to the ground, as he was tightly holding her down for the devil’s messenger to do the unforgivable.

Her eyes narrowed at the white sky. Chen’s lifeless body collapsing onto her smaller frame. Y/N’s hands trembled as she mustered the strength to slowly push his corpse away.

“Are you alright?” she heard him before she saw him above her.

“What about the wedding?” she asked, curiosity mingling with the shock that gripped her.

“We’ll proceed—” he answered, addressing yet another of her fears.

Speech and vision eluded her. “Y/N?” he asked again, gently throwing Chen’s lifeless body off her. “Darling, please say something.” His concern was palpable.

“Let me go, you fuckers!” Chan-yeol’s enraged screams echoed nearby. He hadn’t made a clean escape after all.

Hoseok helped her sit. Y/N’s eyes mirrored the emptiness that had claimed Chen’s.

“Darling?” Hoseok urged, attempting to coax her back to the present.

“—and hold a trial tomorrow.”

“Trail?” she asked, her voice fragile.

“Chan-yeol was a part of our clan. He is a traitor, and we’ll treat him as such.”

“And what about—”

She cast one more glance at Chen’s lifeless form before shifting her attention to Chan-yeol, struggling on the ground, surrounded by Min soldiers from whom she only recognised Jungkook.

“I want to go back, Hoseok-ssi. Please take me back.” Her voice wavered. Hoseok breathed out, relieved, helping her stand. As she turned to look at Chan-yeol, his screams pierced the air.

“Don’t look that way, sweetie,” Hoseok intervened, guiding her away from the chaotic scene. Only when they reached the parked cars, a good half a mile away from the unfolding drama, did she exhale and allow herself to close her eyes.

“Yoongi is beyond pissed. We could have avoided this if you would tell him about that foolish boy.”

“I swear, Namjoon, we were not... we did not—” she stammered.

“—I did not know he would come look for me nor do that….”

“Do not tell that to me, princess,” he sighed.

“I need you to get dressed. We have already postponed it, and we cannot do it any longer.”

“Sure,” were her only words to him.

“She called for you, brother,” the right-hand man spoke as he entered the boss’s office, where Yoongi was finally getting ready for the wedding.

“Explain,” the young groom responded while fixing his tux in front of the mirror.

“She called your name when she woke up.”

“Did she?” Yoongi felt a spark of hope that he would indeed become her person, her lover, her everything, just as she was to him.

The right-hand man chuckled at his questioning response, knowing it warmed Yoongi’s heart.

“Damn this one tradition; you should go and see her.”

“I would, but that would ruin the thrill, wouldn’t it, hmm,” he hummed.

“You’re getting married, brother.”

“Yes, today I’m getting married, and tomorrow I have to deal with a man who kidnapped my woman and let the other fucker almost rape her,” Yoongi spat, hitting the wall next to the mirror. He never felt greater anxiety than when Xiaoli said she was taken away from him. How ironic that he is to be the one who feels anxious.

Her mother crying, father screaming at everyone, younger sister praying. Yoongi had a feeling that she would not be that stupid to run away when he had her family inside the hotel.

“Nothing else will go wrong.”

“Did you greet the Yamamotos?” The Yakuza clan was invited to the wedding, a bold move, and what was even bolder—they accepted and arrived.

“I surely did, brother,” said Namjoon.

“Good,” Yoongi smirked, not expecting what is yet to come.

“Everything is as it should be.”

“I don’t want Y/N’s father near her until the wedding, Jungkook-ah,” requested Yoongi from the passive listener, seated just a few meters away on the sofa, sipping on his glass of white liquor.

“As you wish, Hyung,” he put the glass down and stood up, fixing his tux and putting on his white hat.

“And for fuck’s sake, patch those knuckles, aight?” Yoongi screamed playfully after him.

The temple, a sanctuary of weary souls, stood solemnly bearing witness to the union unfolding within its hallowed walls.

The bride, adorned in a crimson hanfu dress, with beautiful shining golden details on her long sleeves, walked the creaking wooden path towards the temple’s entrance, her steps heavy with the knowledge of what is awaiting her. The rich fabric of her dress billowed like a blood-red sea, a stark contrast to the pallor of her face that concealed emotions that dared not surface.

The courtyard was adorned with bright red and white paper lanterns when she passed it. She did not dare to look around at all the noble underground hats who had gathered to witness the union of two syndicates.

The flickering candles cast eerie, dancing shadows upon the ancient murals depicting forgotten legends. The distant sounds of the city, with its bustling streets and restless souls, provided a haunting contrast to the stillness of this timeless ceremony. The soft strains of the gayageum and the rhythmic beats of the janggu filled the air.

At the temple’s altar, the groom, equally somber in attire, awaited the bride. His eyes, like deep pools, hinted at the secrets he carried, secrets buried beneath, he wished to share with her.

The chants of the officiating monk resonated through the temple; a haunting reminder of the spiritual solace sought amidst the chaos of the outside world. Their union was a flicker of defiance against the oppressive forces that sought to extinguish the spirit of a nation. She was not initially meant to be his, fate seemed to have favoured him, and Yoongi thanked the almighty for bringing her to him.

Y/N dared not look at him, her breath unsteady, visible puffs in the cold air. The gal held her head high nonetheless, she was desperately trying not to give in to her intrusive thoughts and turn around, flee for her life, try one last time.

The gun pressed to Daiyu’s back served as a grim reminder, preventing her from succumbing to intrusive thoughts. She could see the tears that were in her eyes as she held tightly her little son. Chan-yeol, held captive and beaten for sins he performed.

The eyes of the guests felt heavy, especially her father’s, still unamused by the young leader’s audacity, keeping his hand tightly on his neck. Forbidden from seeing his own daughter before the ceremony, he seethed with anger, his frustration directed at the young Kkangpae.

Y/N’s heartbeat echoed loudly as she climbed the stairs to stand face-to-face with Yoongi, trying to find the courage to look at him. His eyes were full of expectations, he was waiting for this moment.

The exchange of bows signified respect and commitment. If this would be a traditional wedding, not minding their social status in the syndicates, they would continue with drinking rice wine sikhye, symbolizing the blending of their lives.

But this was not a common wedding. This ceremony was different. Altered by the traditions of the Min Clan. The moment arrived when Y/N extended her palm to take the knife from Yoongi’s hands. A cup of rice wine awaited underneath, capturing every drop of her blood. Their union, a pledge of loyalty through soul, blood, and mind.

Y/N met Yoongi’s eyes as she applied pressure to the hand holding the knife, slicing through his skin. A sadistic flicker seemed to pass through his eyes, as if he was enjoying the pain she was inflicting on him.

The rice wine now mixed with their blood and the heavy silence was driving Y/N mad.

The young Kkangpae lifted the cup to her lips, her eyes locked with Yoongi’s. Observing his actions closely, she followed suit, and he took a far bigger sip than her, almost devouring it all.

Setting the cup down they both extended their wounded hands. The golden wedding band that Yoongi slipped onto her finger, seemed to match her engagement ring that sat before it, closer to her knuckle. Y/N couldn’t stop looking at her hand. This was an explicit symbol of her being a taken woman now. No one else to touch, to have, and in their world — to own.

“Darling,” Yoongi whispered quietly, but still managed to keep the demand in his tone visible. Y/N shook her head to get herself to think straight again, realising she had lingered too long on the rings, delaying the public ceremony’s final step.

Huffing out collected air, she slipped the wedding band onto Yoongi’s finger, uniting them.

The monk placed a thick crimson ribbon over their hands, proclaiming them man and wife. No vows echoed like in the far west, no intimate encounters within the public ceremony, despite Yoongi’s yearning to press his lips against hers.

Y/N knew very well that her father scoffed and cursed at the young leader yet again for choosing to follow his wedding traditions and not theirs. And ultimately, there was no paying respect to the elders.

Kkangpae does not bow down to anyone. Nor will his new bride.

Y/N was especially glad she does not have to do that nor the tea ceremony she always found dull. Not that she particularly enjoyed being controlled and swept by the demands of Yoongi’s clan.

The monk’s chants grew louder again, filling the temple with an eerie resonance. Y/N and Yoongi turned to face the gathered members of their syndicates, their families, and the underworld elite who had come to witness this union.

The banquet that followed was a lavish affair as is fit for the Min clan. The tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous dishes, and the air filled with the tantalizing aroma of delicacies prepared by the finest chefs. Nonetheless, Y/N could sense the atmosphere that was charged with tension. As if everyone was prepared to cast guns and kill each other.

Y/N felt the weight of her father’s glare before she could see him eye to eye. Her mimicry has shown nothing more but pure disgust when Wang Zemo shook the scarred leader’s hand congratulating them on their marriage. Y/N did not trust her father. His judgment was always clouded by power.

“You do not seem pleased, father,” Y/N remarked, exposing him. Her mother nervously laughed, hoping to prevent a disturbance between the two clans. She eyed him, expecting an answer from him.

“I’m not pleased that your husband allowed you to be kidnapped,” he retorted, making Yoongi squeeze Y/N’s hip, a possessive gesture.

“But he aided a rescue team in no time, daddy. Meanwhile, you could not even keep me at home,” Y/N fired back, laughing in her father’s face, not believing her own words defended the young Kkangpae that was now amusingly smirking next to her. She could see how her father’s brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, fuming at his daughter. Y/N can do that now, she does not owe her father loyalty anymore.

Her mother stopped him before he could raise his hand causing commotion within the two clans, instead he lifted his free arm pointing a warning finger at her. Y/N smiled sweetly and watched her mother pull his arm until he walked with her. Only when he was far away did she ask her new husband.

“Did he give you trouble when you asked for Xiaoli’s hand in marriage on behalf of Taehyung?” The young leader only hummed in response, his eyes were focused on something different from her now, and Y/N could not help but turn her head in the same direction as he was looking.

What unsettled her the most was the presence of Yamamotos. Yoongi nor anyone did not mention single tweet about these poisonous guests. Therefore, she felt her stomach rotate when they were approaching and for the first time in forever, Y/N pressed herself closer to Yoongi, intertwining their fingers together.

Of course, she feared them. She always viewed her father’s tactics and measures quite cruel. But if Wang Zemo was cruel than Yamamoto was brutal. And it was only natural to fear such a brutal syndicate as Yakuza.

“Congratulations, Min,” said the older male in Japanese. He did not bother to speak the tongue of his enemy’s territory, but he knew they would understand perfectly. The man had such a strong and intense aura around him. He ruled with fear, that thing was obvious.

He held his hand to Yoongi who accepted it for both your and his behalf, shaking it with firm grip, piercing his eyes alongside.

“You got yourself a fine woman, Min, —” he leered at Y/N, his gaze filled with hunger. A wave of disgust washed over her.

“She has caused you quite a bit of trouble, has she not?” he continued, finishing his remark. Y/N understood that their marriage was a calculated move that would redefine the power dynamics within the criminal underworld. Whether Yamamoto perceived the Mins as a threat remained an assumption on her part.

“Not as much trouble as you sending that foolish boy to his death,” Yoongi added, causing Y/N’s breath to hitch. Slowly, her eyes lifted to Yoongi, whose gaze now held an intensity that made the scar glow with anger. Y/N did not understand any bit of it. Had he not come willingly? No, that simply cannot be, there had to be an ulterior motive to commit such a sin.

“Certainly, we knew you would handle him and your bride just as you saw fit.”

“Surely, —” Yoongi replied with a dark undertone and a sinister smile. A wave of nausea rolled through Y/N. If they lingered in the presence of the Japanese Yakuza any longer, she might empty her stomach right there. Thankfully, they bid a seemingly cordial farewell, leaving to take their seats behind the tables and Y/N could at least breathe out.

“Yoongi—” she began once they were out of earshot. He cast her a brief glance before pivoting to examine her, noting her even paler face.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she stumbled the words out of her system fast. Y/N released Yoongi’s hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh God,” her sister’s whisper reached her ears, a reminder of their public setting, alerting her that she is still in public, and the eyes will pry.

Y/N swiftly walked — not ran, to avoid drawing attention — towards the nearest door leading outside to the cold. Once in the cold air again, she emptied her stomach.

“It’s okay,” Y/N heard her sister’s voice yet again, just before her hands were soothingly rubbing her back. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe the cold air in. She was grateful it was her sister offering comfort, not the groom. At least Xiaoli realized that Y/N wouldn’t want Yoongi to see her now. Nor any other prying eyes.

“It’s not okay, Xiaoli,” said Y/N through tears, feeling a profound, heart-wrenching anxiety and fear settling in her core.

“They fucking sent him to rape me, and God knows what else.”

“And he did not manage to do that. Hoseok took care of that. Jungkook took care of that, —”

Y/N recalled, her mind flashing to Jungkook storming into her room, his concern evident as he bombarded her with questions about her well-being. Guilt weighed on him for getting entangled with Chan-yeol instead of going straight to her. As her new brother, he felt an obligation to protect her, just like Hoseok, who would go to any lengths for her.

And that leaves Y/N to wonder. She pondered the sincerity behind their sympathy. Was it because of her supposed relationship with their brother, or was there a genuine connection forming? For a fleeting moment, she wondered if her aunt sensed the potential for them to become family, to be her home.

“—Leader Min will see to it that he is brought to justice,” Xiaoli continued, always sure to express her love for Yoongi.

Y/N looked down at her stained dress with a sense of pity, both for herself and the situation. A deep sense of sadness remained.

“I just wish it did not have to be this way,” she confessed, her voice filled with sorrow. “I wish I could have chosen this path for myself, rather than having it forced upon me.”

“But this is not the world or lifetime where you could do that,” her sister replied, and for a brief moment, Y/N felt a glimmer of understanding.

“I know,” she whispered quietly. “He used to be my friend; you know. Despite what he did, I never thought he would die in front of my eyes, —” her words held honesty, tinged with something else.

“And I never thought that I would be relieved they came in time and shot him dead, Xiaoli,” Y/N admitted, finally getting it off her chest.

“Taehyung-oppa said they paid him to do it.” Xiaoli disclosed. Y/N dreaded this scenario; she suspected that Chen did not act out of love for her. No one who loved someone would commit such a horrendous act.

Y/N scoffed, a desperate laugh escaping her. “Do you know what will happen to Chan-yeol?” She hadn’t had the chance to discuss this with Yoongi, leaving her in the dark and feeling consumed by it.

“He is held captive. That is all I know,” Xiaoli replied while helping Y/N stand. She needed to change her dress; there was no way she could return in this state.

“Y/N?” Xiaoli asked. Her older sister only hummed in response.

“If you attempt to run ever again, Daiyu is going to die—” Y/N paused for a moment.

“—He won’t hurt me, I’ll be betrothed to Taehyung-oppa. But Daiyu is still in the open.”

“Did you talk to her?” She asked.

“No,” Xiaoli replied, “but I talked to Kkangpae Min. He confirmed his intentions.”

“And it did not move you one bit?” Said Y/N surprised with what degree of calmness her sister is speaking of this.

Yoongi wanted to make it abundantly clear that he would take drastic measures if she attempted to escape again. He wanted her to fear the consequences, to be consumed by the dread of what might happen if she defied him; deliberately informing Xiaoli, knowing the bond between the sisters was a weak point for Y/N.

“I would not dare to go against his word.” Y/N only smiled sadly at her sister’s words. She does not understand. How could she?

The way to her chamber felt endless. Y/N was acutely aware of her disheveled state and the need for privacy. Another set of footsteps behind her and Xiaoli quickened her heart with anxiety.

“Y/N?” The soothing voice of the doctor, Seokjin, reached her ears, and she could not have been more relieved. Without turning around, she responded.

“I just need to change. I’m fine, Seokjin.”

Y/N wasted no time in stepping inside her room once they finally reached it. Seokjin followed, his demeanour calm and professional, yet she sensed a hint of concern in his eyes.

As she began changing out of the crimson robe from the wedding ceremony, Y/N couldn’t deny the unease that lingered within her.

“You can tell him I will be back in a little while, Seokjin.” Y/N turned to Seokjin, offering a weak smile.

“Are you sure you are feeling well?” Seokjin nodded; his expression was gentle.

“It’s just the anxiety.” Said Y/N. Her face still bore the traces of tears and turmoil, but she resolved to face the celebration with as much grace as she could muster. She knew that in the world she inhabited, appearances were everything.

Seokjin stood by the door, waiting patiently. “I’ll change and come right away,” she promised to the older male.

“Very well,” he answered simply and closed the door behind him leaving her and Xiaoli alone.

The intricate layers of fabric and silk were carefully removed, revealing a simpler, yet equally elegant, hanfu beneath — this one was a shade of soft lavender.

“Do you want to wear the hanbok instead?” Xiaoli asked. Does she? Just this morning, she insisted that her wedding dress will be a representation of the culture she is coming from. Looking over at the beautiful crimson and royal blue hanbok that she was supposed to wear as her wedding dress, Y/N hesitated.

“I don’t feel like wearing a wedding dress anymore, Xiaoli.” Her sister nodded in understanding, but beneath her supportive gaze, there lingered a hint of disappointment. Xiaoli had hoped that Y/N would fully embrace the culture of the Min clan, a desire likely shared by the clan’s leader. However, Y/N’s desire was to stay true to her Chinese roots for a little bit longer. If this is the only way she can remain herself, she is willing to rebel against him as long as she can.

She heard her sister sigh as she handed her the crimson flowery qipao. “You could at least meet him in the middle.” Xiaoli muttered, her disappointment evident.

“Xiaoli, if you did not notice I’m having a really bad day today.” Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. She had endured enough turmoil for one day, and the idea of appeasing Yoongi’s wishes no longer held much appeal.

“I understand—” Xiaoli wanted to say before Y/N interrupted her with the welling tears in her eyes and raised voice.

“No, you do not understand, Xiaoli!” Said Y/N, sliding down to a lower cushion chair, hugging her head with her small hands.

“But you are not even trying, Y/N,” Xiaoli retorted.

“Because I’m gasping for air every single time! I’m drowning, and yet I cannot learn to swim—” she cried out, clutching the fabric of her hanfu to the point she feared it would tear.

“All of you are blindly trying to convince me that this is the best that could ever happen to me—” she continued.

“—like you’re some kind of Gods that shall decide one’s fate.”

Xiaoli sighed, her frustration and discomfort evident. “All we do is care for you, truly, madly, deeply.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and defiance.

“Are you listening to yourself, sister?!” Y/N did not even give her a chance to answer.

“—We are family, by blood, Xiaoli, I thought you cared about me to be more than just a pawn—” this time Xiaoli interrupted her older sister.

“And because we are family, I am trying to protect what matters to all of us.” Xiaoli knelt beside her, trying to console Y/N.

“What about what matters to me?” Y/N retorted; her voice shaky. “What about my dreams, my choices? He took that from me.”

Xiaoli hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “We all have to make sacrifices. And I know that you will make the best out of this.”

Y/N looked at her sister, a mix of disbelief and sadness in her eyes. “Is this the price of my freedom?”

“If this was another life, you could have what you truly desire.” Said Xiaoli. Y/N wiped away her tears before she spoke.

“I won’t let—” Y/N inquired.

“The consequences will be severe.” Said Xiaoli before Y/N could utter her thought as if she knew what she wanted to say.

“Remember that before you will do anything.”

The distant strains of music and laughter reached their ears when Xiaoli opened the door, walking through it in the direction of the celebration. Y/N put on a mask of composure, her posture regal, and her expression neutral. She couldn’t let anyone see the turmoil within her. Tonight, she would play the role expected of her, all while strategizing her next moves in this complex and dangerous game.

“Min Buin?!” a voice called out, unfamiliar and tinged with a strange mixture of reverence and unease — it sent a shiver down her spine.

A man stood right in the middle of the hall behind her. He was dressed in a dark, tailored suit that exuded authority, a stark departure from the opulence of the occasion.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder who this enigmatic figure was and why he had singled her out with that title,

“Min Buin?!” He repeated again. Y/N turned her head slightly to Xiaoli, now a few steps closer to the banquet, her expression wary.

“Who’s asking?” she demanded, a hint of protectiveness in her voice. The man did not seem to be perturbed by Y/N’s defensive stance. Instead, he offered a faint, cryptic smile.

“Do you not know?” His tone took a different direction. He stepped closer to them.

“Y/N,” Xiaoli gulped down, her voice trembling. “That is Yamamoto Itsuki.” By how her sister spoke Y/N understood that this is the very man she was supposed to marry.

“Go.” She whispered to her sister who did not hesitate to run down the corridor and alert anyone. Only once Y/N was sure that her sister was far away did she speak.

“What is your business with me?” Y/N asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. The man’s smile widened slightly, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp in the dim light.

“Business?” He laughed. Y/N’s mind raced as she absorbed his words. She had been thrust into this world, initially a pawn in a dangerous game, but now it seemed that her role was evolving.

“I have unfinished business with you, yes.” He said after a few silent moments. Only her heavy breathing could be heard.

“I’m very much sure that a business between us never started in the first place; therefore, it seems to me we have nothing to talk about,” said Y/N, swiftly turning her body back to its original position, ready to flee to the banquet and seek help.

As she predicted, this day could only get worse as she found herself pinned to the nearest wall. Y/N could feel his breath on her face, a strong large hand enveloped her throat, pressing her to the wall harder and making it hard to breathe. Y/N’s breathing skipped intervals.

“You are one greedy ungrateful little bitch, are you not?” He spat the words into her face, squeezing her neck even tighter. Her hands automatically rose to his arm, trying to push him away. Her head started to spin, and she could feel the redness that rushed to her cheeks as she gasped for air that would fill her lungs.

“You were supposed to be mine!” His scream echoed in the empty corridor. Out of all the endings of her life, she truly did not foresee this one. There was a strike of a quick moment where she thought that death would be her redemption and eternal freedom she wished for. However, Y/N still had the will to fight for her life. She dug her nails into his arm, trying to push his hand away one more time, but he was too strong.

A click of a reloading gun seemed too muffled for her ears to notice, but when the sudden absence of pressure on her throat disappeared, and she could finally welcome the air in, she thanked God for being still in his favour.

Her knees have denounced their service, and she found herself on the ground. She went to touch her sore throat when a familiar hand did it before her. Y/N’s breath was still rocky, and she heard an annoying ringing in her ears. She barely could hear what Yoongi was screaming at the man who was recently near killing her.

“Y/N?” She heard Jimin’s voice, but she could not figure out where it was coming from. Her head was spinning like a carousel, and her vision was still a bit blurry. She wanted to speak up but she found it hard to do so.

“Can you breathe for me, darling?” She tried to stabilize her breathing but couldn’t stop panting for air.

“You have to try and calm down.” Seokjin was speaking to her, and by her blurry vision she saw another four figures around her. Two holding the younger Yamamoto for Yoongi, the other two attending to her.

Y/N went to try to speak again, even though she was fully aware that only high-pitched tones would come out that would make her words unrecognisable.

“I—” she tried, “I want—” she finally gulped down the little amount of saliva she had in her mouth.

“Bring her water right now.” Seokjin understood quickly. Her hearing was coming back to life and same for her vision. She could now see Jungkook and Hoseok dragging the man away from them, and Yoongi swiftly turning to examine the damage the man had done to his beloved.

By the time he fell down to his knees, cupping her cheeks, trying to read from her eyes, Jimin had returned with the water she needed. Yoongi helped her to hold the glass in both of her hands and drink it whole in one go.

“I do not want to stay here tonight,” she said with a raspy voice, feeling every muscle in her throat. Yoongi looked at her with worry in his eyes. He promised she would be safe with him, and within less than twelve hours, she was abducted, almost raped, and nearly choked to death.

“I am so sorry, baby,” said the young leader with remorse. “I am going to make it better, I promise.” Y/N’s ‘better’ however, contained something else than his ‘better’.

“We cannot leave right away—” tears escaped her eyes, falling heavy and hot on her dress. Yoongi was the Kkangpae and the enemy’s clan member just assaulted his wife. This cannot slip out without consequences.

“How dare you disrespect me and my wife this way,” said Yoongi to the older male from Yamamoto’s clan who had barely sat down in Yoongi’s office.

The younger offender, who had laid his hand on Y/N, was still firmly held by Hoseok and Jungkook. She sat in Yoongi’s office chair, a blanket draped over her shoulders, the purple bruises on her neck stark against her skin, certainly not flattering jewelry.

“How dare you disrespect our clan, Kkangpae Min.” The older male retorted, testing the younger leader’s patience. Yoongi clenched his hand into a fist, struggling to maintain control.

“This is far too unforgivable against what you assume I did,” he spat out quickly. Y/N wished she could just hide away and never come back, but as the Kkangpae’s wife, a Buin, she had to be present.

Yamamoto scoffed. “You are playing the game dirty, so are we—”

“Take this as a payback for meddling in our affairs, Kkangpae Min—” the older male started.

“And as far as traditions goes, she is yet to be your woman by our law and God’s will,” alluding to the inevitable — they had to consummate the marriage. Y/N knew this and had been making peace with the fact throughout the day.

“You won’t have to worry about that, Mr. Yamamoto,” Yoongi was always known for his cockiness whilst dealing with enemies, but he was also the most cautious man alive, however today was a misstep he did not wish to ever make. All this only proved he could not leave her alone — not because she might flee, but because someone could take her away from him. And he would never let her go.

“Watch me fucking continue meddling—” Yoongi retorted. “I see that you know the goddamn rules; I shall have his hand.” Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. She did not expect him to go unpunished for what he did to her, which would make Yoongi look unfit to rule. Itsuki started to squirm in their hold, attempting to break free.

“You want a war?” Yamamoto asked with venom in his voice.

“You apparently desire to have it when you assaulted my wife twice in one day.” Yoongi spat and signaled to Hoseok to bring Itsuki forward. Jungkook grabbed the hand that had been on Y/N’s neck less than an hour ago.

“Father!” Itsuki screamed with madness in his voice.

“Here you have it, you impatient imbecile!” his father screamed back at him, frustrated with both himself and his son. The plan had been to warn the Mins, not infuriate them.

Y/N watched Yoongi wordlessly as he took a short katana from Namjoon who appeared out of nowhere. The blade was sharp as a viper’s fang, and it gleamed in the dim light sourcing from the fireplace. The hilt, wrapped in silk, the colour of dried blood, felt cool and ominous in Yoongi’s hand.

She knew he’d have to swing it more than once to actually cut off Itsuki’s hand. Y/N gulped down her fear, pressing both hands to her mouth to stifle the scream that escaped when he first wielded the blade, piercing through Itsuki’s skin and colliding with bone, breaking it open. Burgundy blood streamed down to the wooden floor. Y/N clenched her eyes shut at the painful scream that followed and bounced slightly on the chair at the loud thump of the hand hitting the ground.

“You have one hour to leave our land,” Yoongi declared, aiming the katana at the leading Yamamoto. The son dropped to the ground, cradling his arm, staring at the severed hand and screaming in pain, muttering threats to the Min clan.

“You chose.” The older male looked over to Y/N who was still very much speechless and in utter shock from what occurred before her eyes. Yoongi’s gaze, momentarily lingering on his wife with furrowed brows, but quickly returned to Yamamoto. Their eyes locked, and the older man extended his hand to retrieve his injured son from the floor, leading him out of the room.

Yoongi dropped the katana onto the ground, tilting his head backwards in a brief prayer to the Lord. The room remained cloaked in heavy silence — not a peaceful silence, but one pregnant with the weight of a grim decision. A choice had been made, and its consequences were bound to unfold in darkness. This was a proclamation of war.

Y/N’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where Yamamoto’s hand was laying limp in a pool of fresh blood. As Yoongi straightened and turned his gaze toward her, his eyes were a tempest of conflicting emotions.

“You chose.”

Yoongi echoed Yamamoto’s words more as a question, his voice carrying a low, sombre resignation. He did not demand an answer; he knew what Yamamoto was talking about. Glancing down at his black shoes, now soaked with the blood of his enemy, Yoongi let out a soft laugh at the irony of her choosing him.

He understood the possibility that her choice might stem from self-preservation, realizing he could annihilate her entire family the moment she disappeared. Yet, his own selfishness shielded him from that harsh reality. Yoongi desperately wanted to believe that she returned to him and him alone.

Her eyes grew too heavy to stay open during the car ride back to the sanctuary. She allowed them a brief respite, letting the weight of exhaustion pull her into a momentary rest. The events of this day had been like a tempest, tearing through the delicate fabric of her reality and leaving chaos in its wake.

Y/N’s strength was something Yoongi admired, yet even he recognized the toll this day had taken on her. The hypocrite in him thinking that kind of evil will lead her to seek solace in him, perhaps finding that this was where she truly belonged — by his side.

She could have turned and run when the chance presented itself, disappearing into the wild. But she did not, and that is what mattered to Yoongi. For the first time, Y/N found herself yearning to return to the sanctuary, back to her golden cage.

Y/N knew that this night would be a reflection of the complexities of their relationship, a dance between desire and the darkness that surrounded them. Y/N understood that despite the arduous day, this had to be done. Bracing herself, she stepped out of the car and into the dark.

She walked slightly behind her now husband, letting him lead the way to the house she did not quite recognise. Before she mustered the courage to ask questions, he spoke first.

“I grew up in this house—” he whispered into the cold air, “a hot spring is right behind it.”

Y/N observed the house built into the massive stone walls of the valley, surrounded by tall pine trees. It was too dark for her to see just how tall they actually are, but the little flickering lights visible through the windows granted her a little peak.

“I want to spend tonight with you here,” he turned to face her. Yoongi could not tear his gaze away from her, adoring every detail—her eyes, cheeks, nose, hair, mouth. But if you would ask him, how did he come to be so obsessed with her, he would not give a cohesive answer. The inexplicable obsession he felt seemed right, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. He believed that even if she did not feel it now, she would eventually.

“Just the two of us.”

He took a little step to be closer to her. If Y/N understood correctly, this is the only place where they can be truly alone without prying eyes and ears. Yoongi wanted to talk and what’s more, he intended to do more than just talk tonight.

“Aight,” she replied slowly with her still sore throat. He had never seen her this calm, and he wanted to enjoy every minute she is not fighting against him — despite the disturbing circumstances that led to her current state of mind.

“Can we have some tea first?” she asked with little hope that he would agree to slow down a little bit. He chuckled at her sudden innocence and extended his arm to caress her cheek.

“Course we can, my love,” he smiled softly.

And so, they found themselves once again by the comforting embrace of a fireplace, patiently waiting for the tea to brew in the teapot’s gentle whistle.

There was something about this scenery that Yoongi could not help but love. Y/N, seated on the fur rug next to the warmth of the crackling flames, found solace in these quiet moments. After the tumultuous events of the day, it was a sanctuary they both needed. At least, she felt at peace in moments like these.

“I am sorry.” he suddenly confessed, his eyes revealing the genuine sorrow within. Today had left Yoongi conflicted, riding the highs of marrying the woman he desired while being weighed down by guilt for the day’s events.

Y/N met his gaze, her voice devoid of emotion as she calmly asked, “About what exact part?”

“All of it,” he shook his head. Y/N chuckled, and confusion flickered in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Are you not going to punish me, Kkangpae?” Here she goes.

“I do desire to know your relation to the boy, I won’t lie, but no.”

“There is no relation.”

“Are you sure? We talked about this already — no lies.”

“I’m not lying, he did fancy me, yes—” Yoongi’s grip on his hands tightened.

“—I thought we were friends, but he was not keen to flee away with me when I needed to,” she admitted.

“Do you mourn him?” Yoongi’s voice held a serious tone.

“I mourn the boy he was, not what he apparently became after we parted—” she began, carefully, collecting her thoughts.

“—they paid him to go and attempt rape me, Yoongi. I pray for his soul to find its peace after what sins he committed,” a tear escaped her eye, a sob followed. Yoongi leaned in, holding her small hands in an attempt to provide comfort.

“It was horrible,” she cried out and finally, she opened up to him.

“Amidst all the bad today, I’m so proud of you—” Y/N raised her blurry eyesight to meet him, awaiting an explanation.

“—You could have run, and you did not. You chose to come back to me.”

“I promise, I swear to you — I will never ever let that happen again—” he assured, moving closer to her.

She took a deep breath, summoning the courage to address the yet unspoken. “Can I get the letter, please?” Y/N whispered.

“In the morning.” He answered, intending to prolong it to ensure her continued good behaviour and obedience.

“Do we?-” She interrupted, praying for a change of his mind, though fully aware of the inevitability. He needed to ensure no loopholes in their marriage for others to exploit or for her to negotiate over. She knows this is mandatory.

“Yes, we do,” he acknowledged after some thought. Knowing what she had been through that day, he recognised the potential impact, but he also saw it as a way to fully claim her. It was a selfish desire, perhaps, but one he had long awaited.

Yoongi longed to feel her skin to skin. It was indeed selfish, he knew that much. Some would say it is careless of him to demand such an intimate act to happen after all she has been through. But he wanted to show her that this is a part of their marriage she can truly enjoy. Yoongi wanted to give a final full stop to their relationship by solidifying the union rightfully, as the tradition goes.

The flickering flames of the fireplace danced in the dimly lit room, casting a warm glow upon Y/N and Yoongi. Consummating the marriage was a private but necessary measure.

His selfishness had not gone unnoticed by the syndicate elders, who questioned his insistence on not just any hotel room but the house where generations of memories had been created. He deliberately wanted to spend the night in the house he grew up in, where his father started a family, and his grandfather, and his grandfather and so on down the history line.

Yoongi, having lost his parents at a young age, yearned to start his own family. He wanted to witness the growth of his children, their marriages, and their own families.

Y/N knew this day would come, sooner or later, and as a young woman, she had learnt to protect herself from unplanned consequences. She understood his desire for a child, though he never explicitly discussed it with her. But she was far from being ready to surrender to the life fate had planned for her, not just yet.

Heaven had given her a sign, a slight hope when she found a particular herb in the garden before the first snow fell. Y/N had kept it discreet, asking the maid to dry the flowers and serve them as tea in the morning. Tonight, she was calm, knowing it could not happen, even if he wished otherwise.

Yoongi observed her hesitance, her eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and resilience. The room, with its walls that held generations of memories, seemed to echo with the weight of tradition and expectation. But as he reached out to touch her cheek gently, his eyes softened.

The sharp sound of a loud whistle from the tea kettle startled them both, tearing them out of the cocoon of their thoughts. The iron kettle hung gracefully over the open flame, steam rising in wisps as if trying to escape the weight of the night. Yoongi carefully prepared the tea, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The aroma of freshly brewed leaves filled the air. The porcelain teapot, an heirloom passed down through generations, sat patiently on the wooden small table that was next to them. As he poured the tea into delicate cups, he eyed her small physique yet again, searching for any signs.

She accepted the cup he offered her, the warmth seeping through the delicate porcelain. Her mind briefly paused when she recognised the familiar scent. She chuckled and Yoongi raised his eyebrows in surprise, awaiting her words. Y/N took a few careful sips from the cup, accepting what it offered.

“Are you afraid, Kkangpae?” She asked, taking another sip. Yoongi put his cup on the wooden table and looked directly in her eyes.

“Me? No,” he pointed at himself, hiding a smile.

“So why did you choose to make tea from Valerian root?” Her studies that surely included herbalism had escaped Yoongi’s mind.

“I knew this night would be difficult for you, and I — I wanted to ensure it went as smoothly as possible,” he confessed.

“Considerate,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Yoongi’s gaze faltered, and he looked away momentarily.

“I want you to enjoy it—”

“Then make me enjoy it,” she interrupted him yet again, gulping down the contents of her cup, setting it down with a gentle clink next to his almost full one.

“I intend to,” he said. The complexities of tradition, the weight of the syndicate expectations, seemed to press down on them like the heavy beams of the hanok. Yet, he was thrilled at the prospect of laying her down and making love to her, while she tried to make peace with the path ahead.

A mixture of emotions played across Y/N’s face, the tension in the air made her anxious. The tea flowed in her system, calming her. The steps were set, and she cannot back down now.

His hands cradled her face, a gesture that held both tenderness and an unspoken understanding. But Y/N knows he will never understand. And thus, the night unfolded.

The hanok, with its wooden beams and paper windows, seemed to breathe with the rhythm of their footsteps. The aroma of tea still lingered within the walls, all the way back in the house.

“Pray with me?” a soft plea that resonated with the hallowed surroundings. They settled on top of the low cushion bed; he held both her hands in his. The subtle sounds of the valley outside, muffled by the hanji-covered windows, crackling fire nearby — the low hum of their shared prayer filled the room, blending with the whispers of the winter wind outside.

As they concluded their prayers, the world outside the hanok continued its silent ballet with nature. Yoongi slowly let her hands fall into her lap. Y/N kept looking at her hands, biting her lower lip.

He extended his hands pulling out the golden pins from her hair, releasing them.

“You are magnificent,” he whispered into her lips that were anticipating his. She looked into his eyes one last time before she slowly closed them, awaiting him to take the first step. Y/N could feel both his hands on the swell of her bottom, slightly squeezing it and thus making her pant into his mouth. He pulled her into his lap, not distancing their close proximity. Not now. Not ever.

A deep groan released from his throat when she fully sat down in his lap. Y/N was straddling him, feeling his stiff manhood tightly pressed against her core making her breath hitch. He moved his hand from its place on her butt cheek to the swell of her clothed breast.

“Let me make love to you.” He kissed her lips very gently, waiting for her response. She knew he would do so even if she would not give him her consent. And once she shyly nodded her head, he dove right in and kissed her very deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He was hungry and only she could sate him.

He continued to press himself against her core, creating at least some friction in between, aiming to hit the right spot and make her sing for him.

Yoongi was trying to trace down the opening of her qipao, feeling the delicately made buttons on her chest. Not for a moment he stopped kissing her, unbuttoning her dress and hiking it up from its hem on her thighs, showing her undergarments and pulling it all the way up her head —throwing the peace of clothing that provided her warmth, perhaps even a security blanket, away.

Her neck was his next target. He bent his head making hers to lean back to allow him access. Yoongi layered down butterfly kisses all over her, now, naked, bruised neckline. “You are such a good girl.” He muttered into her skin, caressing her bottom while he placed his hand back to her right breast.

Y/N could feel her nipples stiffen under the change of temperature, or perhaps the excitement her body was going through, which she did not want to admit. He took one of her hands who were inactive till now and placed it on his chest near the small buttons of his shirt. Trying to send a mental message for her to touch him too — undress him too.

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to come to her senses. Out of this ectasis. But she could not. His work on her neck was becoming troublesome, not mentioning his roaming hands. She was never touched by man lovingly, but she could not deny that he is making her heart skip just by teasing her.

Her small shaky fingers finally reached to the buttons whilst he was abusing her chest with hot kisses. She unbuttoned the first one, then the second until she reached the last. “That’s it baby.” He encouraged her to continue slipping his shirt down from his body.

He straightened himself and looked deeply into her eyes, his voice filled with desire and longing. “I love you.” Said Yoongi when he slowly slid his hand in between them cupping her clothed heat. Millions of little butterflies erupted in her lower belly, her breath hitched, silent moan coming out of her swollen lips when he started to rub circles, moving her clitoris through the fabric. She could feel herself leaning into him, her body responding to his touch.

The room was filled with an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation. He caressed her back until he reached the opening of her western style cone bra that she wore under the dress. Popping it open her eyes snapped open too. But the pleasure was overshadowing her sound judgment, and he knew she would at some point try to resent him a little, that’s why he did not hesitate to throw it the same direction as her qipao, not wasting time and taking her already hard nipple into his mouth. Her eyes widened; pupils dilated.

He was taking his sweet time loving her every inch before he laid her down on the bed, hovering above her. Dominating her. Yoongi’s hands moved with a gentle urgency, his kisses becoming more fervent as their passion ignited. He hooked his fingers into her undergarments, not giving her a chance to protest when he quickly pulled them down her legs, tepid air hitting her centre.

It’s when he went to spread her legs touching her knees she took his wrist into her small hand, looking deep down into his eyes, tears swelling in, realisation hitting her. Yoongi did not seem to be angry or displeased. He understood why this action triggered her and therefore he led her hands to his belt, giving her a chance to yet again give him her consent to proceed. He wanted her to fall in love with him, not to fear him. He dreaded the day when he will have to use different measures to convince, she is his woman and no one else can touch her.

The little rat was a big mistake. Yoongi did not expect him to go as far as to attempt to rape her. But he knew that the boy was coming. He knew it’s Yakuza’s move, and he knew when they would strike,and he was ready. What he wasn’t ready for was Chan-yeol’s betrayal. Nobody is betraying Kkangpae Min, nor no one will dare to touch his wife after what he will do to the traitor.

“You’re alright, baby.” He attempted to assure her, putting her small hands on his belt. Y/N’s fingers were yet again shaking when she was undoing his belt. She was now fully aware of her laying naked body. She could feel the goosebumps forming on her skin.

As Yoongi’s belt came undone, he couldn’t help but marvel at the strength and resilience that radiated from her. She had endured so much in such a short span of time, yet here she was, willingly surrendering herself to him.

He pulled down the pants, together with his undergarments. A loud thud followed once they fell down to the floor. He bent down to her belly and placed a small kiss just below her belly button and one slightly lower to her yet uninhabited womb.

“I need to help you relax your muscles a little.” Said he. She felt his hot breath on her inner thighs, shaking in his hold. He slid his hand down to her core yet again, touching her without any barrier for the first time. Y/N took a deep breath and another one when he slid his finger down her folds and up, making her pussy produce wet juices. His lips were on her collarbone when he unexpectedly slid his index finger inside her making her moan loudly, yelp even.

“Shhh…” He cooked at her, kissing her lips passionately, while thrusting his finger slowly in and out of her heat. She could feel a prick of pain in the area Yoongi’s finger occupied. Y/N’s moans became a mix of moderate pain and pleasure altogether.

She could feel his other hand move away from caressing her hip to his member which he started to slowly stroke. Y/N could see that he was more than ready — his cock big, stiff and red, pre-cum leaking from its tip. He wanted to dive into her heat badly. But he needed to stretch her out a little more, so she won’t suffer that much pain. Yoongi smiled when he spotted her eyeing his body through half-lidded eyes, panting, yet being focused specifically on his manhood.

He towered above her, pulling his finger out of her heat. Sudden emptiness surrounded her walls that were finally adjusting to the intruder. She gasped when she felt his hands pulling her closer to him. Her legs were on each side of his hips. Y/N observed his body, his toned skin, slight muscles, his well-built torso — all the way down his V line, adorned with soft hair.

She snapped out of her thought train once he climbed on top of her and pressed his manhood in between her folds, sliding it up and down, covering it in her juices. Moan escaped her mouth once he put a little bit of pressure, stimulating her clitoris. He moved his hips slowly, trying to hold himself to not to thrust it in just yet.

He raised his left hand and intertwined his fingers with hers pinning it above her head while attacking her lips again. Y/N’s hand instinctively slapped his chest trying to push him away just a little, but his little smirk into her lips assured her that he wanted that kind of reaction from her.

And when she awaited it the least, he thrust himself into her, making her bite down his lower lip. He groaned at the sensation. His lip was bleeding, but he could not care less. “No—” She let go of his lip and an incoherent sound came out of her throat, eyes welling up with tears.

“Yoongi, it hurts too much.” She stated the obvious, crying whilst trying to breath. Enormous heat wave just hit her, and she was desperately wanting to make her head stop spinning.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispered into her lips, trying to take his own breathing under control. She feels like heaven to him. His everlasting home. His love. This is where he was supposed to be all his life.

He tried to move very slowly, making her cry even more, but he couldn't stop. “It will stop I promise.” He kissed her tears away, stretching her walls to the fullest with his manhood. Silently moaning into her lips.

It took quite a while for her to adjust to the stretch and tension, fullness inside of her. Yoongi explored every inch of her naked body, his hands caressing her with a gentleness that belied his previous actions. In this moment, she was not defined by the traumas of her past or the expectations of their marriage. Their bodies moved in perfect sync once the pain yielded a little.

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled loud moans and the crackling of the fire. The warmth of the fireplace mirrored the growing heat between them, intensifying the pleasure that coursed through their veins.

Yoongi’s movements became a little faster, more deliberate to draw as much pleasure from her as he could. He wanted to show her that their union was not solely physical but a one of love. With each whisper of reassurance and each gentle caress, he aimed to erase any lingering fears and insecurities that she held.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy after a while, he could feel her shaking against him. But not from fear but from pleasure. He mustered what he could to take her over the edge for the very first time in her life. Y/N could feel the butterflies in her stomach tying somewhat knot that she wanted them to release badly. Her hand slipped into his hair, tucking it tightly whilst he was thrusting into her heat, making her moan loudly into his mouth. He was very close, but he wanted her to come with her. And as they were reaching the peak of passion, their bodies trembling with pleasure, Yoongi held Y/N close, their hearts beating in sync.

Their moans became louder and louder every second they were nearing the summit. “Yoongi—!” she screamed his name out when she was sure the knot was about to burst. “Baby—” he could not even finish a sentence he meant to say once she came undone under him, trembling from the pleasure, her mouth agape, eyes tightly closed — her walls still vibrating around him. Not even a second later his loud cry followed as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside of her. His eyes closed, and he was breathing heavily. When he opened his eyes, she was already looking at him, her mouth still slightly open as she was panting. Her eyes seemed glossy but so were his. He caressed the side of her thigh whilst gently kissing her swollen lips, whispering how much he loves her.

Slowly pulling out of her heat, substituting with his fingers plunging his cum mixed with hints for crimson blood, back into her heat he lowered his body yet again to her belly. Kissing where he assumed her womb was, he whispered a prayer.

“May the Lord bless us with a miracle.”

I N T E R L O G U E

The father’s rage reverberated in the confined space of the car. “You could not have just fucking waited, you little prick!” his frustration boiling over.

Still grappling with the pain of his missing arm, the one-handed son shot back defiantly, blood seeping through the bandages “You said everything would work out in our favour!”

The car they were sitting in was slowing down until it stopped altogether. The older male looked around in confusion. They were nowhere near the docks for their escape to Fukuoka.

“It would if you’d just shut your damn cock instincts, you stupid boy!” the Yakuza leader hissed, attempting to keep his anger in check.

Blinded by fury, he failed to notice the car taking a series of wrong turns, leading them into a desolate no man’s land. When the driver turned to face them, blood reached his ears.

“Kkangpae Min sends you good wishes on your journey to hell.”

to be continued

author's note: f finally yall!!!!! as I already said this chapter was a lot, ain't gonna lie about that, but everything is going according to the plan so don't worry. This was my first smut in english and I'm so scared of yall's reaction... Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was an emotional roller-coaster to write, especially the implied non-con and smut after all the reader had to endure, poor gal. I love to see your comments that basically express that you understand the story's essence and for that I love you all so much ♥ We'll see what will happen in next chapter :))

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter! Love you bae!!!!

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

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