#or im writing about them or reading about them

[lovieku]

i don’t even know what to say. you’ve left a yapper speechless. with Real Tears in her eyes. i feel so much adoration for you and i’m soso grateful for your words, the time that went into composing such a heartfelt review, and just your support. i actually will fall on my knees and beg you to kiss me PLEASE MISSIE 😭😭🩷

something about your ocs (at least from what i've been able to read so far) is that you really capture the essence of their innocence and youth. it makes me nostalgic and so protective of them 🥺 esp this oc and how the fic ended. bc even if jk didn't want to rob her of her youth, he did. and god, does it hurt.

this DID it for me… had my ass pulling a tom holland, i got the engagement ring here baby plz!

i have always been insecure of the way i capture most of my ocs… i think i can’t help but unconsciously make them “weaker” just bc they’re the victims of so many more painful and deeper emotions. it’s something i like but i also fear it can maybe come across as a stereotypical depiction of women? idk. but your comment really made it better. i’m happy you liked her 🩷 and Sawrry you could feel her hurt hehe

like i said, it takes a real special person to pull off this sort of trope, but i expected no less from you. bc wow... amazing. i don't read a lot of age gap fics bc if im being frank... it's a pretty taboo topic in our society, yet this happens everyday to real people, right? i think it's one thing to judge it based on what it is and then having the opportunity to build a world with characters and feelings around it. what an experience. thank you as always lovie!!

i’m 🥹🥹 so lovingly overwhelmed with this. it’s suchhhh a huge honor. to be seen as a special person?!???? by you!!!!?? and wow this is like the biggest compliment i’ve ever received. i love reading about age gaps, and writing it has been a challenge but it still remains one of my favorite tropes. and you’re totally right about what you’re saying. i haven’t found myself supportive of it in situations that saw my closed ones involved, but writing and reading about it truly puts things into another perspective sometimes. these stories still deserve to be told ❣️

thank You, prettiest soul 🩷 always thankful <3

OLDER ⋆ 정국

you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.

pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader

genre: smut, dilf au, best friend’s father

warnings: lower case intended, porn with some lots of plot, age gap (21 n 38), dom!jk, sub!reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayyy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, some angst hehe, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love

ratings: 18+ / mdi

word count: 18.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this it doesnt make sense anymore to me but when i realized i was already 12k words in so 😃 here you are! its also so hard to write smut for me because i get carried away but then it becomes too overwhelming Help. anyways. im back hey!!!!

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in the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. there’s something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. you bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.

but amid them, one stands out. it’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face, when you fixate on the image of the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.

it’s been a few months since that day— since areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.

you had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.

kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing areum with panic in your eyes, you tried to steady both her and yourself. in between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. her words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck, her body trembling.

it took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. divorce was imminent.

your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. you felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your friend still hiding in your chest.

even as her sobs echoed in your ears, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. mr. jeon is single.

you felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening them around areum harder to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.

since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at areum’s house. you’ve been doing your best to be the friend she needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness.

you’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of friends on lazy evenings. anything to keep her mind off the pain.

but each visit is an opportunity. a fleeting chance to see him. to study how he moves around the house with that quiet intensity of his, a presence able to fill every room like a calm, steady current.

you’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. the way his eyes soften when he looks at areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.

you wish you could help him too. in other ways. ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.

you can’t avoid it, though. you’ve witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.

you feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?

you know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.

“any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” he always asks, his gaze jumping between areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.

after your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. is your dick on the menu? perhaps?

and the man can cook. exceptionally well. he moves around the kitchen with an effortless grace, every movement purposeful, every dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.

while you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should, mesmerized by the way he chops vegetables or stirs a pot, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.

fuck. is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? with every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.

you want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. you tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.

there’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.

you feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.

even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins, a dark and forbidden feeling tumbling in your stomach.

you’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. you found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.

his eyes hazily followed your movements, his voice low and slightly slurred, “are you leaving already?”

hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.

he was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt falling sweetly on his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.

you shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “huh… yes. didn’t wanna be a bother.”

he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “oh, you’re not. i wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”

his words hung in the air, with sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. you simply laughed along, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.

to this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “care for a drink? you’re 21 now, right?”

you only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. the proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.

you were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. you took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. he smiled.

it was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of mr. jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.

his words tumbled out in a quiet, almost confessional tone. he spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with areum; 23 when they decided to marry.

his voice soft, but tinged with a sadness you hadn’t heard before, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.

then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. that he had you all figured out.

“when i look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “i feel like i get a bit of that youth back. you’re so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. i’m glad she has you. glad we have you.”

as he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. you were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

that night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. it was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.

even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.

still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. it has awakened something in you, something stronger and far more dangerous than anything you’ve felt before.

you want to be there for him. help him through the doubts and regrets. be the youth he missed. take the weight off his shoulders. let him use you on that couch.

that feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek mercedes parked outside.

he honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. the sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.

it has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.

you’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.

the wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone.

the realization hits hard, and suddenly, the reality around you narrows. your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real.

you can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. and the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when areum nudges your shoulder.

you don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt.

you blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “dad asked you a question.”

your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. you’ve been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. the irony is almost too much.

your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “sorry, mr. jeon. i— um. i was distracted.”

he simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. his focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “it’s okay. i always tell you, just jeongguk is fine. i was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”

“oh. i—it went well! i guess i’m just tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. you just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.

“well, you can’t be!” it’s areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “you need to help me set up for tonight. then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. i’m so excited!”

right. the reason why you could finally see mr. jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s areum’s birthday.

the day feels significant in so many ways. you’re excited to witness your best friend turn a year older even after the hardships she’s been faced with. honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. and you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there’s going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. you’d say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of areum’s happiness.

but mostly, you feel guilty. because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.

you crave for the smallest moments. the brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. the way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.

even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. like you’ve been chosen. blessed by whatever god to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.

it should be enough. it really should. but you’re a sinner. you’re greedy, wanting more. always more.

that buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day. the hours are packed with frantic energy, as you and areum run around in anxious over-organization, only for her own panic to rub off on you, making your movements quick and precise, as if every step has to be executed flawlessly.

and with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. mr. jeon. his presence is overwhelming, even when he’s not around.

he helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. but then he disappears into his studio, retreating into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.

yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. his upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture.

you straighten your back, slow your steps, each action more deliberate, because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.

getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. you love these moments with her. shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.

but even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. it’s astonishing how easily areum has access to everything she wants. the power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy.

for her, money isn’t just something that buys things. it’s a silent force that shapes her world. she doesn’t have to worry about how much something costs or wonder if she’ll ever have enough. it’s as simple as snapping her fingers.

it must be nice to have that kind of life. to have someone like him in your corner, with wealth that seems to fall into place as easily as leaves from a tree. you don’t resent her for it, not really. but it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach.

where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.

when you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.

you’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, their soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. the setup looks like something out of a dream, and it pulls a small, unbidden smile to your face.

the quiet peace is interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.

you turn, following the noise, and there he is— jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard.

as he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. he’s uncharacteristically deliberate as he still lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.

you’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. the corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape, the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.

but now, under his gaze, you feel exposed, like he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. his eyes linger longer than usual, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.

you’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.

still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.

when his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and the smile that curves his lips is warm, but you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.

his voice is smoother than you’ve ever heard it, as if literal honey, sweet and rich, is dripping out from his pillowy lips, “what a beauty. you look very pretty.”

you weren’t expecting that. it steals the breath from your lungs. it’s not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses.

it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.

at this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities, each small sip burning your throat and making you grimace at the sensation. but you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. or maybe, mr. jeon is the inebriated one.

you don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “thanks.”

he hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. you let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. he resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.

the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. make small conversation about areum’s birthday. comment on his look, too. oh, you have a lot to say about it.

you can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. his hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks purposeful, perfectly intentional. his slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.

your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.

surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. the rich sound fills the air as he pours the red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.

he doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”

the way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, more confident. especially with the question thrown your way. teasing, almost belittling. you can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.

the question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “mh… you could say so.”

of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. mr. jeon is no boy— he’s a man. the kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. the kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, his wealth, his looks that stop you in your tracks.

but he’s in front of you. and he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.

it’s him you want to impress. you want to affect him the way he affects you, with effortless intensity. you want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.

you’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. he brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma.

there’s something so practiced, so sensual in the way he handles the glass, the liquid dancing with delicate precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. you can’t look away.

when he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. the moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

his smile is soft, but there’s something unsettling in its honesty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

he mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”

the implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his adam’s apple bobbing with it. the whole time, his eyes never leave yours.

a thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. your mind spins with the unspoken tension, but he seems entirely comfortable with it. the only sound filling the space is the quiet hum of the house.

he places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.

his voice is inviting, even more than usual, “you want some?”

”is that wine?” you instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.

he hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully.

you briefly glance at the glass, “i’ve never had it.”

”try it, then.”

with a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. as it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you.

the gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. at least to your deranged fantasies.

there’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. you look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, his expression unreadable but heavy with implication.

without a word, you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around the stem. you bring it to your lips, your mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.

the wine hits your tongue— bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. you gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. your face scrunches involuntarily, a clear sign of distaste. the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.

he watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. when you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.

his tone laced with amusement, he asks, “like it?”

you shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.

his chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. swirling the wine gently, he muses, “i heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”

you groan lightly, slumping your shoulders, “ugh, i know.”

the endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. i’ll be around.”

just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. pretty face?

what just happened? you’re not sure, but you’ve definitely stepped into something dangerous, something you can’t quite shake.

it’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. the energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in.

it all contrasts sharply with the weight still hanging in your chest from your earlier encounter with mr. jeon. your eyes keep darting toward the house, toward where you know he is, even though the logical part of you tells you to stop.

you stand at the entrance to the garden for a moment, taking in the scene. the subtle smell of flowers mixes with the faint scent of food, and your best friend bounces around the space, radiant in her dress. you’re genuinely happy for her, honored to share this moment.

and with your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. your mind is elsewhere.

it’s only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. mainstream music plays in the background, and it inevitably involves everybody, as some classic party games become the main entertainment.

long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other never have i ever questions.

you can’t help the way you all still feel like teenagers deep down, and how you get foolishly excited whenever the topic gets hot, and hints at anything that is sex related.

childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.

“never have i ever been fingered.”

areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.

as expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. the few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.

sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip from your punch. you can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.

it’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. you pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. something you can relate to.

but of course, god is not on your side. the questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.

you can only sink further in your chair as everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen, refilling their cups.

beside you, areum buzzes with energy as every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.

never have i ever given head.

never have i ever been ate out.

never have i ever rode someone.

it’s undeniable, the way your skin heats up. with how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination.

you feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always mr. jeon.

if only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard.

you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.

jeongguk is hidden in the shadows, the darkness of the house swallowing him whole, with every light turned off. maybe that’s why neither you nor areum notice him.

you don’t see him. you don’t feel him. you’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.

jeongguk traces your every move with his intense gaze. he studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

if you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately— the way the attention in the circle shifts toward you.

the glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. but then, in the eyes of a few, jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment.

it’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the way they exchange fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your unease and interpret it as something lesser. something they can pick apart.

his jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. it makes his hands twitch by his side. he stays rooted in place.

eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. it’s written on your face. or maybe, he got so used to studying you. it comes easy to him. knowing you,) follows.

it makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, the way the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.

“never have i ever… had sex.”

you feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. the rim hovers near your lips as you avoid every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.

a murmur ripples through the circle. you can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. it’s only later that you realize no one else drank. the question had been crafted specifically for you, a silent test.

lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “woah, i was getting worried for a second there, ___.”

you barely have time to react before areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “what’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”

“nothing, but—”

you’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. you cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, “i only took a small sip, though.”

the group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. you feel it— everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you���ve kept to yourself until now. so, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.

you clear your throat, straighten your back against your chair, your tone evasive, “i technically am not a virgin, but…”

the expectation drips from every person around you, their wide orbs trained on you, and for some reason you continue, gulping audibly before providing them with an explanation they don’t deserve, “when we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— god, this is embarrassing.”

“c’mon, tell us!”

you sigh, pressing forward with the humiliating truth, “he came, like, two seconds after. so, i felt nothing.”

the laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. you can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.

yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “that’s so sad, babe. we need to find you a real man.”

a strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within, and you quickly learn how the buzz spreading to your body after taking part in sharing one of your experiences awakens you significantly.

you don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “oh, i’ve been waiting for one in particular.”

you quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. their curiosity flares again, eyes wide with excitement as they beg for more details. who is it? tell us!

their voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.

but just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.

jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.

the intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, the air thick between you as time seems to slow.

he’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, the muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. there’s a quiet frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. but it’s more than that. there’s something stirred by your confession.

your inexperience. your innocence. the untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.

the truth is, he’s known for a long time. longer than he’d like to admit, really. but he’s never let himself feel it fully until now.

it wasn’t something that hit him all at once. no, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. he’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. you’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.

but he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with areum, how his heartbeat would quicken up when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.

he’d been good at keeping it under bay. but you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest. your fleeting glances, your breath hitching whenever he was near, your clothes putting you on display for him. it all made it harder.

even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.

and earlier, in the kitchen. he’s used to being in control, but the way you responded to his presence, to the compliment he gave you, had moved something deep inside him.

maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. how you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.

hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.

it’s like it all clicks into place for him. and for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.

jeongguk wants you.

he knows it’s wrong. so wrong. he’s never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.

it’s dangerous, the way these thoughts take hold of him now. maybe it’s the way you’ve changed lately, stepping into womanhood but still holding onto that wide-eyed innocence. or maybe it’s him. maybe he’s the one who’s changed, his resistance crumbling little by little.

he feels disgusting. selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.

but there’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just areum’s friend. that boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. he’s old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.

your eyes widen with terror, meeting jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. he wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate. it fills him with uncertainty, an unfamiliar feeling, one he rarely contends with.

the moment is abruptly interrupted when one of areum’s friends, an older guy she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.

you struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.

but it’s hard, you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “is it me?”

the people around you laugh, the sound light and carefree, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes— jeongguk notices.

and he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. his jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.

he can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.

the sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.

jeongguk steps out, his presence commanding, and your expression drops. areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. his eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.

still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher. it’s firm, heavy with a warning.

“areum,” he calls, his voice calm but edged, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

she’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.

but the voices of your friends rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing.

you sigh, and when you return to your slumped position on your chair, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.

jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. you hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind.

all you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.

you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. it sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else.

you wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled.

but instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.

when areum returns, she’s slightly slumped over, her energy deflated. behind her, mr. jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.

areum’s voice is low as she announces, “the party’s over, guys.”

the subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends try to protest, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. they then gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it.

once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.

jeongguk barely looks at you. his focus is elsewhere. on the mess, on areum, on anything but you.

as you bend down to gather some empty cups, you steal a look at him again. he’s helping clean up too, though his motions are deliberate and slow.

it’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.

until areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. she mumbles, blinking heavily. "’m so sleepy."

jeongguk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the still-messy garden, some leftover cups and plates scattered across the tables, and the chairs strewn about from the night's festivities.

he teases lightly, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "oh, really? you’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"

for a moment, the weight of his words hangs in the air. you and areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. the pause is brief, but it’s enough for tension to rise in your chest.

but then, jeongguk’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“just kidding,” he chuckles, his tone warm now, the joke clear. “go sleep, c’mon. it’s past your bedtime.”

areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. she mumbles into his chest, “i’m not a kid anymore, dad. i don’t have a bedtime.”

he chuckles with a lightness that was foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, his voice low and tender as he whispers, “whatever you say. happy birthday, reumie.”

it’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate, but the intimacy of it, the quiet affection between father and daughter, makes your heart clench.

you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from mr. jeon. he’s always been the composed, collected man in the background of areum’s life, but here, he’s just a father, brimming with love for his daughter.

you almost feel like an intruder witnessing such a private exchange, but you can’t pull your eyes away. every detail — his hand softly resting on her back, the delicate warmth in his eyes, the way his voice softened — it all paints a picture of a side of him you’ve rarely seen.

you want to be part of it, too. want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. that fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.

he doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. you’d gladly find a house in his brain, and you’d pay rent and everything.

when areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “you coming with me?”

you hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. you speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “i’ll be there in a minute. i wanna help clean up first.”

she just shrugs, already too tired to argue, and heads inside. jeongguk’s eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.

his lips part as if he wants to say something. maybe to insist that you shouldn’t stay, or that you should go inside too. but the words never come. instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.

now, it’s just the two of you.

the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. the subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.

you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to mr. jeon. to the protective edge in his tone earlier, to the way he’s been looking at you tonight.

but then, in your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.

before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.

“oops. careful, little one,” it’s jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

your face flushes immediately, the heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.

“it’s okay,” he instantly replies, his tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.

silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. you both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. his thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.

finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "thanks for making my daughter happy today. i really appreciate that. i appreciate you."

the words catch you off guard, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his voice, deeper, almost too revealing.

your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “oh. i—”

his voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “go sleep now. i’ll finish here.”

you want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — his dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.

there’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “if you need anything, you know where to find me. yeah?”

you swallow hard, nodding slowly. his gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. you stammer, “right. yes. i—i’ll… goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

it’s not exactly a good night for you. in a sense, maybe it is. you always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. but right now, it feels more than a little awkward.

worst timing ever. you’re lying next to areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.

at first, it’s soft, almost serene. you see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. the sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.

a weight presses down on your exposed thigh. the sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.

jeongguk’s hand. his left one. on the fourth finger, a gold ring.

when you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. his hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips.

but the softness of the look he gives you is replaced by something more dangerous, more daring. he bites his lip, and you see it.

a double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. your breath catches in your throat. you don’t just see it there.

on his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.

you remember them from old pictures areum showed you once. jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.

it must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.

his hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.

"you wanna take another bath?" his voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. he’s leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin.

your throat feels dry, your pulse quickens, and before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. his breath fans over your face, and suddenly, the sea behind you isn’t the only thing that feels like it's burning.

"come on. just you and me."

before you can even think to answer, your surroundings shift. the beach, once hazy and peaceful, morphs into something more private.

you’re no longer in the open air, but sitting at the border of his pool, both your feet grazing the warm water.

jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. when he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.

but he doesn’t look down just yet. he keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.

jeongguk leans closer to your ear, his lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “let me make you feel good.”

it’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first.

on your right, areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. you'll tease her about it in the morning.

but if the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt.

you have to get away from your best friend. need to get away from your brain, if possible. wash it all with a glass of cold water.

you make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin.

your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.

at first, you only hear it. faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.

you blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.

but as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. it’s not just your mind playing evil games, anymore.

it’s shushed moans, and eager whines. and they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined mr. jeon would sound like. in that situation.

having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.

your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.

you feel delirious. the small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.

nonetheless, he loves it. his mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.

he cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.

the sight of mr. jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. it takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.

you need to be there with him. you need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. his groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.

you’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.

you’re paralysed. in the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.

with the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.

you can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. when he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.

if you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.

“___? what are you doing up?” his voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.

still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “i— water. i wanted— there’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”

mr. jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. you follow hastily, careful not to trip.

there’s plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. he takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.

you take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.

when you put the still full glass down, he smirks. you see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “nightmare?”

the depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. you’re a mess just from the blurred sight of him. you shake your head, “more like… a weird dream.”

he smiles fondly, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.

he won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.

you’re in front of him, eyes full with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.

he’s a gone man.

his eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. but the outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.

you’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. just thin, loose pants covering his length.

you gulp, clenching around nothing. you feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.

he looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, “i’m sorry for… what you probably saw. should’ve closed the door.”

apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. as he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.

your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.

his face is stoic, staring at you intensely. he doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. but you feel him. if the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. he keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.

then, he speaks, his voice steady, “what are you doing.”

you’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you melt under it.

your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “wanna help you.”

he doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “you already did enough.”

your hand is still on his dick, unmoving. no one dares break the moment, though. if anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.

you get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “what were you thinking of? i’ll be that for you.”

immediately, his hand flies over yours. he doesn’t move it, just holds it still. the look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “stop this.”

the electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.

you don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.

“___. get up.” there’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.

you see it in his eyes. sense it in the tension of his muscles. he’s holding back. but you don’t want him to resist you.

“please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.

he groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.

“fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”

“you don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, “i want you.”

jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.

he wishes he could stop you. knows he should. but he can’t. he can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.

the way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.

mr. jeon is long. and thick. he’s veiny, and perfectly shaved. it looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.

he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.

his voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. don’t do it.”

any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him.

his breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.

he curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a god, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.

the reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. the yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.

he’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. he’s tired of fighting it.

jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce.

it’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.

you inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.

you tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.

he almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.

when you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.

you don’t want this moment to end. you don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. you’re on your knees for him to finally see you.

jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.

his voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. it’s soft, just like his voice, “come up here, angel.”

you want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. but you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. when the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.

with a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. but you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.

his hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.

if he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.

he lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. he wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.

when he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.

his words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “if i kiss you now, i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”

your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “please, kiss me.”

you barely manage to get the words out before jeongguk is all over you. he devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.

his fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.

your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. you feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.

he does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. it’s a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.

when he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.

the chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.

you quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. you only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.

but it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. the sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.

he makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.

“you had your fun, baby. now, you’re going to listen to me. hm?”

this time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. you’re hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.

but it’s not enough, and jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”use your words.”

”yes, mr. jeon.”

the way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.

your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. you need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”you’re such a bad girl. aren’t you?”

jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the chocked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.

but it only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”calling me that only because it gets you off. doesn’t it? you’re not so innocent after all, princess.”

he quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. but he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.

unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.

the access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “i’ll give you what you want. but you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”

you’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny yes. you’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?

the man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. and his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. you’re positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.

though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. you really want to be good for him. don’t want to disappoint him.

that’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. from the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.

you instantly wrap yourself around his thick fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.

with your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.

the sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “that’s right. suck on them like you would my cock.”

you hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. you think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.

the noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.

with his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.

the surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.

you feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.

the curse that follows is instant, “fuck. no panties?”

you’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.

tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.

he scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “it’s like you knew this would happen. you dirty, naughty girl. always giving me those eyes.”

it’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. you need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he softly strokes the spot he hit.

the hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.

he finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.

you inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

you feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “you think i wouldn’t notice? you know how hard my cock gets everytime i see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? you’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”

then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.

you scream in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours.

he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “shh, princess. good baby, you’re doing perfect.”

the contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. you’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.

you shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “can’t— can’t do this.”

“you can baby, c’mon. you wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” his tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.

you nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.

“say it.”

“wanna be good— your good girl.”

he hums, “that’s right. i need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”

you choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you.

you throw your head backwards in search for more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “yes! want your dick.”

“i know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.

he’s ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.

you feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. one moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.

mr. jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. his large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.

the moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.

“shit. you’re so impatient, sugar. dripping around my fingers. wanna taste your sweet juice, can i?” it’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.

he purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.

your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “turn around, sweets.”

you do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to.

but you soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.

you don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. but finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.

especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. and i’m left to clean it up.”

you swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.

he only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. the hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, “i’ve thought about licking it up, you know? but then i always stopped myself, because i knew i’d get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”

you gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.

he finds your mouth with a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous.

he looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. he takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.

he presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “i knew you’d crumble soon. you little minx. going after your best friend’s dad. so naughty.”

your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.

the shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.

jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out.

he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you.

he’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.

you think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.

his own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.

you feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift up your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boobs, fondling them with care.

the deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.

it’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.

your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.

he pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.

when he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.

on the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it, when seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back.

next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.

his forehead is on yours when he breaks the kiss, his breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “did so good, pretty. came so hard all over me.”

your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.

you feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “wan’ you to fuck me.”

the hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.

“that what you want, baby?” your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels down to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.

he slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you off the counter effortlessly, and you squeeze your hold tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced.

the new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.

when he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. you’re sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.

your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides.

your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center.

but the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.

he smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.

your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his v line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole.

he teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. you arch your back, groaning.

“am i the real man you’ve been waiting for? you wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” his sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.

at your eagerness, he wastes no time. aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. the stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him.

he knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. but he’s the one that needs to be silenced.

the moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. his sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark.

you hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search for any kind of grounding you can find.

it’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.

he reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “shh, baby. i got you. let me make you feel good.”

the whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.

at this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be.

you’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.

it’s definitely real. jeongguk is fucking you. almost. not yet.

with the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “fuck me, please.”

one final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits.

he teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs.

but you can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. you buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.

he’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly hold you up as he begins fucking into you. with each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.

the two of you soon find out it’s impossible to be quiet. your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.

his own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.

your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t build to survive this kind of pleasure. it’s almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.

your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “that’s how you need to be fucked. that’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”

“mhm, fuck, yes!” it’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. you feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.

his palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “fuck. love your tits. fit just right in my hand. you were made for me, princess.”

your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.

“i’m not gonna last long, baby. this pussy’s too tight. trappin’ me inside it,” jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.

you wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “it’s yours, jeongguk. f—fucking yours. forever. ah— fuck.”

he hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “that’s it. my pussy to fuck, angel. mine to play with, mine to fill up.”

your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy.

the possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick.

he talks you through your abrupt orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.

he’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “fuck. aren’t you a naughty one, doll. you really want me to cum inside you? you want it, huh? i bet you do.”

your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts all into fucking your sensitive cunt.

he smirks wickedly, “you’d look so pretty. all stuffed. want me to fill up this tight pussy? want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”

you think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions.

he looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, his eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.

when he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin.

you gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you.

you both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.

he hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling not to fall.

but you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “now, you gonna clean this up for me. open your pretty mouth, baby.”

you don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he asks from you.

you engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.

he makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “mh, good girl. get them neat.”

when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange.

with a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “gonna clean you up, too.”

you gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. you only feel yourself becoming even wetter, if possible.

leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.

he moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “you did amazing, doll. made me cum so hard.”

you hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.

the warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. you prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.

you don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.

your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed—tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. and for a second, your heart clenches with dread. is he leaving?

but then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.

relief washes over you.

he handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. his fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.

you squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. his hands never leave you, securing you to him.

you settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.

for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. it feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him.

his deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. his chin rests on the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.

you press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. like you’ve always known this is where you should be.

your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. you feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.

but when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. his face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. he’s not relaxed like he was just moments ago. his gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought.

yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.

but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so.

you seek warmth, care. nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. love.

he once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. but now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.

he wants to give in. he wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. give you love.

but he can’t do that to you. can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.

he knows what comes next. love turns into suffering. it’s inevitable.

and could he survive seeing the look on areum’s face if she ever finds out? how would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? about how he truly wants to act upon his feelings?

the thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.

but why doesn’t he feel disgusted? why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? there’s only bliss. the sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.

he wishes he could be immature, for once. wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. that he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.

maybe then, you’d feel right in his arms, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.

“jeongguk? are you okay?”

your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. his eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.

he tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? yeah. i’m okay.”

of course, you don’t believe him. an ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down.

you don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the illusion a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.

you offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “you… you seem worried.”

“i’m not, baby. i’m just thinking.”

“about?”

“stuff.” his voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.

the distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.

your eyes jump all over his, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “you can tell me, you know. you can talk to me.”

one simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. it makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. that maybe, this can go well.

“i know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frames your cheeks sweetly. “let’s get you to bed now, hm?”

before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. you clutch onto him.

you feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “your bed?”

it breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone firm as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “no, baby. you gotta go back to areum’s room.”

“but— but… i wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.

he looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “we can’t, dove. you know we can’t.”

his words feel like a punch to the gut, and your voice hesitates. “we can’t?”

the silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. there’s no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.

at areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. he’s careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “go wash up. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“no…”

“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make this harder.”

you frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. his gaze is steady, resolute.

you want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated, but you still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “okay… can you kiss me?”

your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a shy smile making its way on your lips.

when he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.

you’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.

you go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “goodnight, ___.”

jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. you’re not even sure if you can define it as a smile.

it’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. he’s completely disconnected from you.

he retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. the door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.

you stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. the spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. the warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing.

you try to breathe, but the air feels sharp, your throat tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. it’s useless, though.

your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. you can’t go back. you can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.

you’d been so afraid this would happen. how could you have been so foolish? even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. a part of you always knew.

and yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. that you could be enough.

you’d have done anything to prove it to him. to show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. you still would. you’d give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. if he’d only look at you the way you want him to.

the full weight of your reality sinks in. in the end, none of it was truly real.

a sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. the sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. this house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the lie you let yourself fall into.

and you? you feel tainted, too.

[missarchive]

wait bc im sitting here reading dostoevsky and thinking about how spence would love having a partner that loves reading as much as him.. but im also thinking ab how he’d want to eat them out while forcing them to still focus on reading… i need an ice bath.

i hope this is what you were wanting <3 i had a lot of fun writing this for you

cw; +18 minors dni, munch!spencer, fingering, dom!spencer, fade to black smut, praise

The soft hum of the world outside fades into the background as you lounge on your bed, face up, knees pulled up to your chest. A pillow is nestled between your thighs and chest, propping up the latest romance novel you've become utterly lost in. The pages blur slightly as your eyes dart over the words, the story pulling you in deeper with each sentence. You’re so engrossed, you don’t even hear the faint creak of the door opening or the soft shuffle of footsteps.

The bed dips slightly, jolting you out of your reverie.

“Spence?” you mumble absentmindedly, your gaze still fixed on the page. The weight on the bed barely registers as you flip to the next chapter, too caught up in the plot to pay attention.

“What are you reading?”

The voice, smooth and familiar, startles you. You glance up, meeting Spencer's curious gaze. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, his shoes already kicked off, clad in jeans and a snug t-shirt that clings to his lean frame.

“Just a new romance novel,” you reply with a small smile, lowering the book slightly. There’s always something about the way Spencer’s eyes darken with intrigue whenever you mention one of your romance reads.

Without a word, Spencer moves around the bed and perches on the opposite side. He unbuttons his jeans with practiced ease, slipping them off before settling against the headboard. His hands reach out to gently tug your feet into his lap, his touch warm and grounding.

“Tell me about it,” he says, his tone soft yet insistent.

Smiling, you let yourself sink back into your comfortable position, your feet resting against the firm warmth of his thighs. “It’s a historical romance,” you begin, “set in the 1600s. There’s forbidden love, political intrigue…”

As you delve into the story, Spencer’s hand idly traces the curve of your calf, his fingertips brushing the bare skin beneath your pajama shorts. His touch is subtle, yet it sends tingles up your leg, making it harder to concentrate. You glance at him briefly, but he looks relaxed, his lips curling in a faint smile as he listens to you.

“Are you almost done with that chapter?” he asks, his hand sliding higher.

“Yeah, just a few more pages,” you murmur, not fully processing how high his hand has wandered. Your focus wavers as his fingers linger on the inside of your thigh, the gentle pressure impossible to ignore.

You’re jolted fully into the present when he hooks a finger into the waistband of your panties and slides them down to your knees.

“Spence!” you squeak, clutching your book tightly as your head snaps toward him. His expression is maddeningly calm, though his eyes gleam with mischief.

“What are you doing?”

“I figured you liked that position so much for reading, I’d help you multitask,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. His fingers dip between your thighs, brushing against your already slick center.

A gasp escapes your lips as his thumb begins circling your clit with deliberate precision. Your hips twitch instinctively, opening to him even as your book tumbles to the side.

“Spencer,” you moan, your voice breathy with need.

“Keep reading,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle as his fingers plunge into you, curling perfectly against your walls.

You try to obey, picking up your book and skimming the next few lines, but the words blur as his movements intensify. The pressure of his fingers combined with the steady rhythm of his thumb has your breath hitching, your chest heaving with the effort to concentrate.

“Spence, I can’t—” you start, but he cuts you off by stilling his hand.

“You need to keep reading,” he says, his tone laced with amusement.

“Spencer!” you whine, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Read a page, and I’ll give you more,” he bargains, withdrawing his fingers.

Frustrated but desperate for his touch, you scan the next page as quickly as your trembling hands allow. The moment you finish, you glance up, and he rewards you by slipping two fingers back inside, stretching you deliciously as his thumb resumes its torturous circles.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

This pattern continues, the cycle of teasing and reward driving you closer to the edge with every page. By the time you finish another, Spencer leans down, his tongue replacing his fingers.

You cry out, the book forgotten as his mouth works you over with unrelenting skill. His tongue licks and swirls, his lips closing around your clit to suck gently, and you’re utterly undone. Your hips buck against him, your hands gripping the sheets as he pushes you higher and higher.

Finally, your release crashes over you, your body trembling as he coaxes every last wave of pleasure from you. When you’re spent and boneless, Spencer pulls away, his lips glistening as he crawls up beside you.

“How was that chapter?” he asks with a cheeky grin, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Best one yet,” you reply, your voice hoarse but content.

“Glad I could help with the multitasking,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your temple as you drift off, thoroughly sated and utterly his.

[michaela-o]

please please PLEASE can we have an Autobot version of the how to catch a human post?! Begging on my knees here lol

Im sorry this took a bit longer i had so much fun writing this ! And besides that i got distracted by some of the TF comics that can be found online ! I just read the two whole comics about Drift becoming an autobot and man alive was that cool :3🧡

I'm also currently job-hunting and studying so there was not as much time to be online or make art as much as i'd like :'(🧡

But i hope you'll enjoy this one !! ( ｡ớ ᴗờ)🧡

P.s. - I know this is a bit different from the decepticon one bc i made this one in the more First Contact universe♡

Autobot recommendation for handling/capturing fragile organics: Humans

Foreword on behalf of Autobots

Humans are delicate, skittish creatures who rely on their instincts, emotions, and have a surprising amount of unpredictability. They are small, fragile, and prone to bouts of irrational behavior when startled or cornered. Despite their size and vulnerability, they possess an extraordinary will to survive, making them both a challenge and a responsibility to handle correctly.

This guide was written for Autobots tasked with capturing, securing, or calming a human in scenarios where their cooperation is necessary but unlikely. Treat them as you would a frightened turbomouse: with patience and care.

1: Recognizing the human creature

1.1 PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Humans are organics with relatively uniform structure but remarkable fragility. Standing approximately not even quarter of the height of a minicon, they lack protective exoskeletons or natural armor. Their bodies are composed of soft tissues supported by brittle bones, making them particularly susceptible to external forces.

Their skin is their first line of defense, but it is thin and prone to tearing. Cybertronian scanners often mistake minor abrasions as critical damage—while rarely life-threatening, these injuries cause them significant distress. Be mindful of their soft exteriors.

Humans rely heavily on their sensory organs to navigate their environment. Their eyes are sensitive to bright light, and their ears to loud or unexpected noises. Both can cause disorientation, so avoid shining headlights directly at them or using amplified vocalizers during interactions.

1.2 BEHAVIORAL TRAITS

Humans exhibit a wide range of behaviors, often dictated by their emotional state. Unlike Cybertronians, who generally act with calculated logic, humans are impulsive. When frightened, their actions often defy rationality.

• Flight Response: A common reaction to danger, humans may attempt to flee without assessing their surroundings. This can lead them into greater peril, such as running toward an active battlefield or hazardous terrain. They are pretty fast for their size, but their stamina is limited. A frightened human will often collapse after prolonged exertion.

• Fight Response: Though rare, humans under stress may lash out. Their attacks, though feeble, can include throwing objects, kicking, or attempting to strike a Cybertronians. While their strength is negligible, their determination should not be underestimated.

• Freeze Response: Some humans become motionless when overwhelmed, effectively shutting down all voluntary movement. This reaction can make them difficult to rescue, as they may refuse to cooperate or acknowledge external stimuli.

2: Identifying stress signals

2.1 VOCAL CUES

Humans communicate distress through an array of strange vocalizations, often at high volume. Screaming is the most obvious indicator of fear, but rapid speech, muttering, or even complete silence can also signal distress. Listen carefully to their tone—shaky or uneven sounds often betray underlying anxiety.

2.2 PHYSICAL REACTIONS

Their bodies exhibit telltale signs of stress: trembling limbs, widened organic optics, or clenched fists. Sweating, though imperceptible to Cybertronian optics, is another key indicator. Advanced scanners can detect elevated heart rates and shallow breathing, both of which correlate with heightened fear.

2.3 ERRATIC MOVEMENTS

Humans under duress often behave unpredictably, darting in random directions or making illogical choices. For example, a human might attempt to climb unstable structures or hide in areas that provide no real protection. These behaviors stem from primal survival instincts and should not be interpreted as strategic actions.

3: Non-threatening approaches

3.1 MINIMIZING YOUR PRESENCE

Humans perceive large objects, especially moving ones, as threats. To avoid provoking unnecessary fear, always begin your approach in a non-intimidating manner. Transforming into vehicle mode is highly effective; many humans associate vehicles with utility and safety, not danger.

When in robot mode, avoid towering over them. Lowering yourself to their eye level by kneeling or sitting creates a sense of equality and reduces the perception of dominance.

3.2 VOCAL REASURRANCE

Humans respond well to calm, steady voices. Speak slowly, using simple phrases even though they will not understand Cybertronian language. Avoid Cybertronian technical jargon or complicated explanations, as humand won't even understand and will confuse or frighten them further.

If the human continues to panic, repeat your reassurances while maintaining a soft tone. Over time, they will begin to associate your voice tone with safety.

3.3 BODY LANGUAGE

Body language is as important as spoken words. Humans are highly visual creatures and will interpret your movements as cues for intent. Keep your gestures slow and deliberate. Avoid sudden movements, as these can be perceived as aggression.

Extend a hand palm-up when offering assistance, a universal gesture of peace. Keep your frame neutral—crossed arms, clenched fists, or rigid postures might be misinterpreted as hostility.

4: Techniques for securing a human

4.1 NON-CONTACT METHODS

Whenever possible, prioritize techniques that do not involve physical interaction.

• Guided Pathways: Create barriers using objects or your own body to funnel the human toward safety. This method is particularly effective in open environments where direct contact might cause them to flee in the wrong direction.

• Stasis Bubbles: Deploy low-energy containment fields to immobilize the human. These fields should be calibrated to avoid discomfort and allow full mobility once the immediate danger has passed.

4.2 DIRECT CONTACT METHODS

Important note: When physical interaction is unavoidable, use the utmost care.

• Lifting and Restraint: Cradle the human gently in both hands, supporting their head and limbs. Apply no more force than necessary to prevent them from struggling or falling.

• Transport Compartments: Many Autobots have interior compartments designed for transporting fragile cargo. Ensure these are padded, ventilated, and free of sharp edges before placing a human inside.

4.3 ENVIROMEMTAL ADJUSTMENTS

Humans are profoundly influenced by their surroundings. Dim lighting, soft sounds, and warm temperatures can help calm them during capture. Conversely, loud noises, flashing lights, or sudden temperature changes will heighten their distress.

5: Transporting the human

5.1 SAFE COMPARTMENTS

Select a secure compartment that protects the human from external hazards while allowing them to move comfortably. The space should include basic life-support features such as climate control and breathable air.

5.2 CONTINUOUS MONITORING

Scan the human regularly for signs of injury or stress. If their condition deteriorates, stop immediately and address their needs. Humans are highly vulnerable to dehydration, exhaustion, and emotional fatigue.

6: Release and recovery

6.1 GRADUAL DISENGAGMENT

When the mission is complete, release the human in a controlled manner. Begin by reducing your proximity, allowing them to acclimate to their surroundings. Avoid abrupt departures, which may leave them feeling abandoned or confused.

6.2 PROVIDING REASSURANCE

Humans value closure. Rather than explain, show your actions and reassure them of their safety. If possible, provide additional assistance, such as guiding them back to their community or offering resources for recovery.

Closing thoughts

Humans may be small and fragile, but they are resilient in their own way. By treating them with care and understanding, they will give you theirs in return.

"We honor the principles that make us Autobots." - Autobots

[tevaselmundogiraalreves]

BUDDIE FIC RECS PART 2

Okay heres more fics cause ive been reading so so much lately, i cannot and will not be stopped. Heres the first list. I will most prob keep on making lists cause i honestly cannot stop reading. Once again, in no particular order:

Songbird by @colonoscopys - Goes first cause i just finished reading this one. FREAK EDDIE IS MY PASION. I said it already but at one point eddie eats bucks hair. Its awesome! FreakxFreak DumbxDumb

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by @hoediaz EVERYONE ALREADY READ THIS ONE RIGHT? IF NOT WTF ARE YOU EVEN DOING GO! ACTORS AU YOU WILL NE FAMOUS FOREVER.

chess inside my chest by @buick118 - HELLOOOO THIS ONE FIXED SOMETHING INSIDE MY CHEST "heart clipped in the backseat with his headphones already secured over his ears." I NEED AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS WRITING ❤️‍🩹

Two, Three Times in a Row by leslie_knope i honestly have no words for how much i love this fic, i reread it all the time, like ive reread it so much its embarrasing. Some of the best smut ive read.

wanna do a bad thing twice by @coldbam BUCK IS SUCH A FREAK GOD HE IS SUCH A FREAK

(You know what actually there are 2 more fics were buck is the freakiest hes ever been so ill put them right below ⬇️)

slow motion, double vision in rose blush by @saryasy Eddie Diaz. His friend. His Eddie. Has kissed a man. Which is strange because Buck is sure as hell he'd remember kissing Eddie.

Me at Buck: FREAAAAAAAAK

Also special mention to that flashback WOW!

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) by @tallsinspace Buck loses it every single time this is so awesome, it was so FUN reading INFIDELEDDIE this hiatus 🫶🏽

songs and poems and promises by @lesbianrobin buck summer of disatisfaction turns around thanks to eddie god they are so in love! Also special mention to chim well and maddie lets fucking goooooo

we keep this love in a photograph by @burnthatbridge its just so so freaking beautiful. Buck chooses eddies pics for his dating app after he comes out...

the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys once again the kind of fic that you wanna reread again and again.

"The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up."

still sitting in a corner i haunt by @cal-daisies-and-briars i just love this one so much, should reread it, trust me its worth it.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless. Idk i loved this one. Buddie are not even friends they just want the benefits as soon as they meet. The transition from that to them actually getting to know each other so naturally and start caring about each other is so beautiful.

in the passenger seat by @livingincolorsagain Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.

Just BEAUTIFUL.

tying you to me by @hoediaz ONCE AGAIN PERFECT TYPE OF WRITING. Buddie meet each other after 5x11. SO ORIGINAL GOD.

the soft animal of your body by @hattalove . This is a coda to another fic but can be read on its own. Just beautiful beautiful love making. I think i commented that i felt like they were making love with the words they were saying to each other just sitting on the kitchen table talking.

we could follow the sparks, i’ll drive by @markofalover bucks kink should be people calling him mr. diaz and thinking hes eddies husband.

Wait for me there by @kitkatpancakestack Childhood friends reunite after 8 years. I just really really loved this one. Those flashbacks to the past are so beautiful.

wanna be your endgame by literalmetaphor gotta be honest dont see this happening in canon at all cause the second eddie confesses buck would go down on his knees lets be honest. BUT this was so great! I loved it.

Pivot Tables by rainbowninja167 Does it show that i love reading buddie being so freaky and so kinky. Ill just say this: educational sex. Buck brings on the clipboard. Obsessed with this one.

I Broke What You Gave Me, But You Kept Giving More by rcdwings. memory loss buck cant remember his husband. Listen im not always a fun of memory loss fics but i loved this one i loved the twist.

there's a word for it, I'm sure by @ithilien-writes i have to reread this one asap cause i loved it so so much they are just so in love with each other but cant admit it so they just start having sex about it. And god they love esch other.

i could give you fifty reasons by @marviless buck FLIRTS with eddie cause he just want ti help. God this one was so much fun. I remember laughing out loud. I gotta reread.

beating the horse by @doitbuckley Eddie is moving to Texas. Buck finally figures out what he wants. Perfect read to the end of 8a.

In the Back Seat, Windows Up by @semperama SEX IN THE BACKSIT OF THE TRUCK LETSFUCKINGGOOOOOO

Play Me For Keeps by @semperama this one made me feel so MANY things in less than 1k words I WAS WONDERSTRUCK HONESTLY SMILING FROM EAR TO EAR

would you lie with me and just forget the world by @colonoscopys reread this one recently GODDDDD if you havent just go read it right now!!! Childhood friends to lovers for the win always.

your beauty (not just a mask) by @aashiqeddiediaz these next two fics GOD well i have a thing for mirrors and sex in front of mirrors apparently so... this i top tier for me. This one is the shorter one in front of the bathroom mirror 100/10 no notes.

my mirror (staring back at me) by @aashiqeddiediaz this one is longer. Mirror in the bedroom......... Eddie notices bucks insecurities and well he does smth about it ❤️‍🔥 such a fave of mine. It has everything!!!

Dreaming of a White Christmas by rosebuddiekin . Oh boy!!!... just gonna leave the blurb here cause no words could ever be enough: "Buck accepts a challenge to be edged in his and Eddie's own version of the 12 Days of Christmas and loses his mind a little more with each one." (Btw if someone knows the author please lmk. They put a link to their tumblr on ao3 but it doesnt work for me.)

[aesthetically-dying101]

Letters to the past

A/N: in which they find a love letter that you wrote to them years ago. (im tempted to write a version of this of pure angst, where reader is dead and they find the letter later, but for now im being nice), inspired by real world events!

warnings: light angst (with a happy ending), suggestive, crack, shits n gigs

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

Nanami was quietly tidying up the shared office, something he did on his very rare off days, he was organizing a particular stack of papers on his side of the desk when his hand brushed against something unfamiliar—something soft, wrapped in a ribbon. Curiosity piqued, he pulled it out—an envelope with his name scrawled in your handwriting. The paper was a little yellowed with age, the ink slightly faded, but the love was still so palpable.

He carefully opened it, unsure of what he was about to read. What he found inside was... a letter. A love letter. From you.

He chuckled softly, his heart squeezing in his chest. The date at the top: “One Year Together”.

The paper was dotted with sketches—little doodles of him—and he couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling in his chest.

A light chuckle escaped his lips.

“I can’t believe this… you drew me like that? I was such a dork…”

Nanami's chest tightened.

Seven years. It had been seven years since you two had been together, and four years of marriage. Time had flown, but reading the words from that first year? From when everything had felt so new and exciting? It was... overwhelming. And there were even little doodles of him scattered throughout the pages, goofy sketches of his serious face, his messy hair, and him in his work clothes.

It was... perfect.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself, eyes scanning over the words. “I can’t believe you wrote this…”

You had always been dramatic when it came to love, but that had been one of the things he adored most about you. Your passion, your sincerity, and how every little detail felt like it had meaning.

Just as he was wiping a happy tear from his eye, he heard the door open.

“Hey, Kento!” you called out, your voice bright and bubbly from a long day of teaching. But when you walked in and saw him standing there, holding the letter, your face immediately fell.

“Wha—” you began to sputter, running over and snatching it out of his hand. “No! Oh my god, why do you have that?!” You were practically in full dramatic panic mode, hands shaking slightly as you tried to hide the letter behind your back.

Nanami couldn’t help but laugh, amused at how flustered you were. “I just found this,” he said, his voice full of affection. “I didn’t realize you were such a poet. And these drawings—” he gestured to the little doodles of him— “they’re... adorable.”

“Oh, please,” you groaned, your face flushing. “Stop it! Don’t even read it out loud. It’s so embarrassing! I was like—what—21? It was a year in! I was still figuring out how to not be awkward!”

Nanami grinned, leaning in slightly, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I think it’s perfect. You were so honest, so sweet. And the drawings—” his voice softened, “they're so cute.”

You crossed your arms, pouting. “Kento, nooooo, don’t you dare! I can’t believe you found that. You’re gonna be all ‘oh, look, look at my cute, romantic wife’ for the next week, huh? God, stop being so dramatic about it.”

“Is that really a problem?” he teased, giving you an amused glance. “I think it’s adorable. And I’m the lucky guy who gets to read it now.”

You dramatically slumped against the desk, covering your face in mock embarrassment. “I can’t with you. You’re making me so red. You can’t show anyone this, Kento. Not a single person.”

“Why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, amused at your antics. “We’ve been together for seven years, married for four. You really think it’s embarrassing now?”

You peeked over your hands, your voice soft but still teasing. “Yes. Because it’s cheesy and gushy, and I’m just... ugh. So much poetry.”

“I happen to think that poetry is one of your many talents,” he said, voice gentle as he moved closer to you. “And you’ve always been perfectly you. I love you even more for it.”

You sighed dramatically, trying to hide your smile behind your hands. “Stop it, Kento. Stop looking at me like that. You’re gonna make me cry with how sweet you're being.”

Nanami chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry. But seriously. I’m glad I found this. You’ve always been so good to me.”

You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your heart. "You're so ridiculous," you whispered, pressing your face into his chest. "But I love you."

He kissed the top of your head, chuckling softly. “I love you, too. Always.”

And as the two of you stood there in the cozy office, holding each other close, Nanami couldn’t help but feel so incredibly lucky to have found you—his partner, his wife.

Toji was knee-deep in moving boxes, his muscles flexing as he grabbed yet another heavy one- he was glad you weren't home, or else you would've made a comment. The sound of cardboard scraping against the floor filled the room as he shifted it into place. It was one of those days where every corner of their house was chaotic, half-packed, and filled with the usual mess that came with moving.

But then something fell.

A soft sound, followed by paper crinkling, caught his attention. He raised an eyebrow and crouched down, picking up a stray piece of paper from the floor. The corners were worn, the edges curling slightly with age. He blinked when he realized what it was.

A letter.

Her handwriting.

Curiosity piqued, Toji slid off his old man glasses from the top of his head with an exaggerated flair, rolling them into place before he cracked open the letter.

And that’s when he saw it.

A love letter—one from you.

From the early days of your relationship, when things were still fresh and you were... completely infatuated with him (not that he ever let it go to his head or anything). Toji’s lips quirked into a devilish grin as he leaned back against the box, settling in for the show.

He read through the entire thing, each line making him chuckle louder and louder. The dramatic declarations, the overly poetic descriptions of his “dangerous” eyes, the flowery words about how he “was the center of her universe”… Oh, this was gold.

“Well well well,” Toji muttered, barely able to keep himself from busting into laughter. “Look at you, all sentimental, huh? Just how cute…”

He kicked his feet up, reclining on the nearest piece of furniture, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Gotta admit, babe. You were delusional back then."

You had just come home from a walk in the park with Megumi, trying to get some fresh air after the chaos of packing. Megumi was by your side, his small hand holding onto your sleeve, talking about something he saw at the park. You were listening, but the moment you stepped inside, you noticed Toji—sitting with that mischievous grin plastered on his face.

He was holding something in his hand. The letter.

No.

"Toji..." you groaned in embarrassment, already knowing what was coming. "What did you find?"

“Oh, just this little thing…” Toji drawled, waving the letter in the air, his grin practically splitting his face. “Look at this, sweetheart—look what I got.”

Your eyes widened, and you immediately lunged forward, making a grab for it.

“Toji! Give me that!”

But he was already one step ahead, holding it high above his head as he leaned back, savoring your reaction. “What’s the rush? I’m just having a little fun, doll. Let me enjoy it for a second.”

You groaned, your face turning an embarrassing shade of crimson. “No, please! That was years ago! It’s… so embarrassing!” You jumped up, trying to wrestle it out of his hands, but he was too strong.

“‘Toji, I adore you, you are the light of my life, my heart beats only for you…’” He read aloud dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he quoted your words. “‘Your smile is like the sun, and I am forever basking in your warmth.’ Oh, I’m dying here, baby. This is priceless.”

“I was naive back then!” you shouted, flipping him over your shoulder in a fit of frustration. “I was delusional! It was a different time!!”

“Delusional? Baby, you were love-struck,” Toji teased, completely unfazed by your attempts to wrestle the letter away. "I’m just surprised you actually thought I’d believe that sappy stuff back then.”

You both tumbled onto the couch in a mess of tangled limbs, but you didn’t stop. You were determined to get that letter back, even if it meant flipping Toji over—again. Your fingers scrambled for the piece of paper, but Toji’s laughter made everything feel lighthearted.

“You knew what you were saying,” he laughed, pinning your wrists down, still holding the letter just out of reach. “I didn’t even know I was such a heartthrob back then.”

“I swear to god, Toji…” You wriggled beneath him, doing your best to twist and turn, but it only resulted in you getting a little closer to him than you intended.

Toji’s face softened for a moment as he looked at you, his playful grin slowly fading into something far more intimate.

"You were adorable back then," he whispered, voice low. "I liked it. You’re lucky I never threw that letter away."

“You better not have,” you muttered, eyes meeting his. He was so close now, your breath mixing in the air between you.

His hand shifted from the letter, instead cupping your cheek, his lips pressing against yours in a deep, slow kiss. You melted into him, your hands wandering, sliding beneath his shirt as you tugged him closer.

You were so lost in the kiss, the heat building between you, that you barely noticed Megumi stepping through the door.

“Dad?” Megumi’s voice interrupted from the doorway, his little face peeking around the corner.

You both froze, wide-eyed, your hands still dangerously close to Toji’s waistband. Megumi blinked at you, looking oddly embarrassed for someone his age.

“I forgot my plushy at the park,” he said, face turning pink.

Toji groaned in exasperation, pulling away from you just enough to shoot you a look. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

You shot him a glare, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “This isn’t over, Toji.”

“Yeah, yeah. Later,” he smirked, rolling off you and giving Megumi a playful pat on the head. "Let’s get your plushy then."

As you all prepared to head back to the park, you swore—next time, you’d get your revenge.

Gojo Satoru was hunched over your shared office desk, papers scattered in every direction as he sifted through stacks of documents. He was searching for a specific file on a curse, but knowing Gojo, he’d probably get distracted and misplace half of them before finding what he was actually looking for. Not that he’d admit it.

His fingers brushed against something odd tucked between two thick folders—an envelope. His eyes narrowed, curiosity piqued. It was a very familiar envelope, one with your handwriting all over it.

Wait… What the hell?

He blinked, disbelief settling over him. The letter was from you—a love letter. From when you were still dating, after just one year. You two had been together for eight years now, but this letter… it felt like a lifetime ago. He could feel his chest tighten as he carefully opened the envelope, the old, yellowed paper inside immediately making him grin like an idiot.

It was poetic. Deeply poetic. And so you. He could almost hear your voice reading it out loud, the words seeping into his bones. And the drawings—of him.

“Oh my god,” Gojo whispered under his breath, blinking rapidly as he read more. “This... this is way too much. Is this really what I was like back then?”

His hand shook a little, a laugh escaping him as his mind tried to wrap around the overwhelming wave of emotion that suddenly flooded him. He couldn’t help it.

The Strongest Sorcerer was about to cry over a letter.

When you walked into the office, the first thing you noticed was the unnatural stillness of the room. Gojo was sitting there—completely silent, holding the letter. His usual carefree demeanor was absent, replaced by something entirely different, something soft and vulnerable.

You froze in the doorway, your eyes widening in panic.

“Wait... is someone dead?” you asked, voice rising in pitch as you rushed toward him. You immediately looked around for any sign of trouble. “Is it Shoko? Is it Suguru??”

Gojo blinked slowly, slowly looking up at you. His expression was a mixture of awe and—wait, was that a tear?

“No. It’s just... this letter,” he said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the letter still clutched in his hand. He looked up at you, his eyes wide. “I had no idea you felt this way back then. You really loved me this much?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you immediately realized what was happening. The letter you’d written to him years ago—the one you’d completely forgotten about—was now in his hands, and he was reading it like a treasure.

You let out an exaggerated, pained groan. “Oh my god, noooooo.”

Gojo laughed softly, clearly taken aback. “What, you’re not proud of what you wrote?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, I was a pretty perfect boyfriend, right?”

“Nooooo, stop,” you whined, dramatically covering your face with your hands. “Why do you always have to find my most embarrassing moments? Why are you like this?”

He grinned wickedly. “Oh, I’m definitely reading you some lines. You need to hear how much you loved me, sweetheart.”

“Noooo,” you protested again, lunging toward him to snatch the letter. “Kento—I swear, if you read a single line out loud, I’ll—“

But he was already reading aloud, his voice dropping into that playful tone he always used when teasing you.

“‘Satoru, my heart beats for you,’” he started, dramatically pausing for effect. “‘You are the sunshine in my life, and I will always cherish the way your smile makes me feel as if the world is whole again.’”

Your eyes went wide, and you leaped forward to grab the letter. “Satoru! STOP!”

“‘I love you more than words can express,’” he read, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “‘And I cannot wait for the day I call you mine forever.’”

“OH. MY. GOD,” you shouted, now fully flustered. Your skin felt on fire as you tried to wrestle the letter from his hands. “Stop, I was so dramatic back then! You have no idea—”

But Gojo just sat back, enjoying the chaos he’d caused. He raised an eyebrow. “Was you? It’s still pretty cute now. Look, this one’s my favorite—‘When I’m with you, time stands still. I am yours, and you are mine—forever.’”

You gasped, flailing helplessly. “I WILL END YOU, GOJO SATORU.”

Gojo just laughed, that deep, comforting sound filling the room as he shook his head. “You’re so cute when you’re all flustered.”

“SHUT UP!” you whined. “This is an absolute nightmare! I will literally kill the strongest sorcerer if I have to.”

“Oh?” Gojo’s grin turned devilish as he leaned forward, the mischievous glint in his eye more intense than ever. “Maybe I should let you make me suffer a little—since I’m so lucky to have you, right?”

You gave him a playful shove, and without thinking, your hand dipped down to his pants, feeling the subtle tension in his body at your touch.

“W-Wait—what are you—?”

“I said shut up,” you whispered, a teasing smirk spreading across your face as you leaned forward to kiss him, your hand sliding dangerously lower. Gojo’s breath hitched, his voice trembling as he muttered,

“UuUuUu... lemme repay you for your words...”

Geto Suguru leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of his desk as his cult member, a young woman, hesitantly approached with a piece of paper.

"Master Geto," she began, her voice laced with uncertainty. "We found something... in the library. Between the books. It seems to be an old letter."

Geto arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "A letter? What kind of letter?"

The woman hesitated, but handed it over to him, and he noticed the familiar handwriting immediately. It was yours.

His heart skipped a beat as he unfolded the letter. The words on the page were undeniably yours, but what struck him was how genuine it felt—this love letter was full of sincerity, overflowing with affection that made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected.

He chuckled softly to himself, his fingers gently tracing over the elegant script. The letter was written eight years ago, just after he and you had started dating. He could almost hear your voice, dramatic and poetic, as if he was reading it straight from your lips.

"Well, well, well," he muttered under his breath, a sly smile forming on his face. "Seems like my wife was really into me back then."

His cult member gave him a confused look but said nothing as he smirked and folded the letter neatly, tucking it into his jacket pocket.

When you arrived home, having finished your errands for the day, you immediately noticed Geto lounging on the couch, a strange glint in his eyes. He was holding something behind his back, clearly up to no good.

"What’s that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you dropped your bag onto the nearby chair.

“Oh, nothing,” Geto said, his smile far too innocent. "Just something I found that I thought you might enjoy."

You crossed your arms, eyeing him suspiciously. "Is it a new cult ritual that involves me?"

He leaned forward, looking way too pleased with himself. “Better. It’s a blast from the past.”

Before you could react, he produced the letter from behind his back and waved it in front of your face. "Guess what I found in the library today?"

You froze. The moment you saw the familiar handwriting, your stomach dropped. No.

"Geto... no," you whispered, taking a step back as if the letter itself could bite. "Don't you dare."

“Oh, I dare,” he teased, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “It’s from you.”

You slowly turned your head to the side, trying to make a break for it. “Nope, I’m not doing this today. Not today, not ever.”

“You’re not going to want to miss this,” Geto said, clearly enjoying your discomfort. He unfolded the letter with all the drama of someone preparing to perform Shakespeare.

The words he read aloud were beautiful, so full of love and passion it almost made you cringe. You remembered writing it so vividly, a flood of emotions that you hadn’t even realized you still carried. And now, Geto was reading it out loud for all to hear.

"‘Suguru, my heart longs for you, and my soul finds peace in your presence,’” he began dramatically, putting on a voice as if he were a great actor. “‘Every moment with you is a blessing, every glance is an eternity...’”

“Geto, no!” You turned away, hands over your ears. "Please, don’t—"

He only chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “‘I’m yours, Suguru, and you are my everything…’” He paused, a smug grin spreading across his face. “‘I will love you always, now and forever.’”

You stopped in your tracks, your face burning with embarrassment. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You didn’t just—”

“I did,” he said, savoring every moment. “And to think, you thought I’d forgotten.” He waved the letter in the air like it was some kind of victory flag.

You exhaled dramatically, throwing your hands up in the air as you began to walk away. “I refuse to listen to this. I’m not doing this. This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on,” Geto called after you, trying to suppress his laughter. "You were so in love with me back then, and you still are, huh?”

You spun around, narrowing your eyes at him. “Geto, if you keep teasing me, I’m not making you dinner tonight.”

He tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “You wouldn’t deny me that. You love me too much.”

You glared at him dramatically. "You’re lucky I’m even married to you, sir."

“Lucky?” he raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s the other way around.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to look offended. "I don’t know... I might reconsider after this little stunt."

He took a few steps forward, finally dropping the letter back in his pocket. His expression softened. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just... didn’t realize how sweet you were back then. You still are.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes but secretly feeling your heart warm. “You know, I still don’t think you’re allowed to read my letters from eight years ago like that.”

“Why not?” he grinned. “It’s proof of how much you love me.”

You huffed, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “Ugh, you really are impossible.”

“Admit it,” he said, stepping closer to you. “You still love me that much.”

“Fine,” you muttered, trying not to smile. “Maybe I do...”

“Maybe?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning in close with that familiar cocky grin.

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. “Okay, fine. I definitely do.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He smirked, closing the distance and pulling you into his arms. “Now, let’s get you out of that mood. Dinner still stands, right?”

You groaned. “I swear, you’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And I love you, too. Even more than this letter says.”

And despite your earlier protests, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelled with warmth and affection for the man who never failed to make you laugh, even when he was embarrassing you with old love letters.

Sukuna Ryomen, the fearsome King of Curses, sat in his grand chambers, his body draped across his throne, looking as if he could conquer empires with a single glance. His regal expression was unfazed as Uraume sorted through the countless scrolls piled around them. But then, a soft "Ah!" sounded from Uraume, and Sukuna’s sharp eyes flickered toward them.

“What?” Sukuna asked, his voice a low growl, barely masking his curiosity.

Uraume stood up straight, holding a scroll in their hands with an intrigued expression. “My Lord, I believe I’ve found something... interesting.” They unrolled the scroll, revealing the elegant, flowing handwriting.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Uraume cleared their throat and began reading aloud. “My dearest Sukuna, the one with the four arms, the eyes of a god...”

The words stopped Sukuna dead in his tracks. His eyes narrowed, and a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “This... is from her, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Uraume said, unable to hide the amusement in their voice. “It seems to be a love letter.”

Sukuna smirked. “Is it? Let me see.”

Uraume handed him the scroll, and Sukuna read on, his usually cold demeanor cracking ever so slightly as he made his way through the poetic declarations. His heart actually skipped a beat when he saw the lines about his "handsome four arms" and "piercing, yet captivating eyes."

"...When I look into your eyes, it's as though I see the entire universe. Your strength is unrivaled, your beauty unmatched."

Sukuna blinked, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. Was he... blushing? What kind of nonsense was this? He shook his head as if to rid himself of the absurdity.

But there was something in those words—something tender—that tugged at him. He looked over the letter again, a rare feeling bubbling in his chest.

"She really... thinks that of me?" Sukuna muttered under his breath.

"Indeed, my Lord," Uraume confirmed, their voice soft with a trace of teasing. "It seems she finds you quite... attractive."

Sukuna snorted, rolling his eyes, but there was a faint, pleased smile curling on his lips. He couldn't help it; there was something about how his sweet little human wife saw him—really saw him—that made his heart do strange things.

With a low, almost possessive cackle, Sukuna pushed himself off his throne. "I need to see her. Now."

You were strolling through the gardens, lost in thought, enjoying the quiet of the day. Your delicate fingers brushed the petals of the flowers as you walked, when suddenly, you felt a presence behind you.

Before you could turn around, the voice you knew so well boomed from behind you. “Well, well, little wife. I've made quite the discovery, haven’t I?”

You stiffened, your heart dropping. Oh no...

“W-What do you mean?” You turned around, trying to play it cool, but your wide eyes betrayed you.

Sukuna smirked as he approached you, holding the scroll in his hands. “A love letter? To me? You must really be under my spell, huh?”

“Nooooooo...” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Why—why are you like this?”

“Oh, but I must know,” Sukuna continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “Do you find my four arms attractive? Or maybe it’s my eyes? Hmm? The ‘piercing, captivating eyes’?”

You were about to burst into flames from embarrassment. “Stop it! I was young! I—I—I was just—just... poetic! And dramatic! And—!”

Sukuna chuckled deeply, that deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter despite the embarrassment. “Poetic, huh? Well, little wife, I must admit, your words have an effect on me. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

You could feel your face turning as red as a tomato as you half-heartedly tried to grab the scroll from his hands. “Please, just burn it! I’ll never recover from this. Ever!”

Sukuna took a step back, watching you struggle to keep it together. The sight was too adorable, too human, and for a moment, the terrifying King of Curses just couldn’t help but soften his expression, his gaze lingering on you with something like affection.

You continued your frantic flailing, but your eyes met his and—damn it, your heart was racing again.

“You really think I’m that attractive, huh?” Sukuna said, stepping closer, his voice teasing but somehow gentler than usual. “Tell me, do you still feel the same way, little wife?”

You flailed a little more dramatically. “I...! You’re ruining me!”

“You did write this, didn’t you?” he said, lowering the scroll and staring at you with that all-too-confident glint in his eyes. “So, tell me, do you still think I’m ‘unmatched in beauty’?”

The words you wrote—so carefully chosen, full of love—now seemed to weigh on you like a thousand pounds. You groaned in frustration. “I was being dramatic! A little poetic flair here and there... okay, maybe a lot of flair, but I was... young, okay?!”

Sukuna’s smile softened, and he placed the scroll in your hands. “You’re still the same, aren’t you?”

“Stop,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. You wanted to vanish into the earth. You'd never survive this embarrassment. Never.

But Sukuna, in all his terrifying glory, knelt down to your level and gently cupped your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender.

“Don’t hide from me, little wife. You wrote this out of love. And for that... I’ll never make fun of you for it. Besides...” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “I like how much you love me. Even if it means I get to tease you for it.”

You closed your eyes, melting under his touch, all the while, your heart racing. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.

“I know,” he purred, grinning from ear to ear. “But that’s why you married me.”

You could only groan, giving in to the impossible man who had somehow wrapped you around his finger—and you’d never be happier about it.

Choso was sitting at the kitchen table, a tear-streaked face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking slightly as he stared down at the letter in his lap. His heart ached, not from pain, but from something else. Something softer. Something—embarrassing.

You had just come in from the garden, humming to yourself, when you caught sight of him. And you froze.

"Choso?" you asked cautiously, tilting your head. "What’s going on? Are you—are you okay?"

His voice, thick with emotion, broke through his trembling hands. "I... I found it... I found your letter."

You blinked, brows furrowing. "My letter? Which one?"

“The one you wrote to me… back when we were dating.”

Now that hit you like a ton of bricks. You swallowed hard, trying not to panic. Oh god. You had written a lot of things back then, too many of them cringey and so full of teenage drama. You could already feel the cringe creeping up your spine.

Your lips pulled into a nervous smile. "Choso, sweetheart, you’ve... you’ve gotta be kidding. You’ve been holding onto that thing for years?"

He looked up at you with those wide, pitiful eyes, his lower lip trembling. "It’s so... it’s so beautiful... but also so embarrassing..." He could barely finish his sentence before he put his hands back over his face, shoulders shaking again.

You blinked rapidly. "Wait, wait, hold on. You’re crying over a letter?"

His voice was muffled behind his hands. "It was... everything I needed to hear from you. I didn’t know back then... how much it meant..."

Your heart melted for him, but you had no idea how to react. Choso was dramatic, sure, but this?

“Choso, honey, please. It can’t be that bad.” You walked over, sitting down beside him, reaching out to gently pull his hands away from his face. “Show me. What did I even say? I’m sure it wasn’t that—”

He thrust the letter into your hands like it was a delicate artifact, almost afraid to let it out of his sight.

"Here..." His voice wavered. "Read it... you’ll understand."

You glanced down at the letter and immediately felt your face burn. The handwriting was unmistakably yours—so full of emotions, so full of youth. You skimmed the first few lines, wincing a little.

"Okay, okay... uhh... Choso, I—" You made it a few sentences in before you felt the need to physically cringe. "Oh, no."

You cleared your throat. "Let’s see here... ‘My dearest Choso, your presence fills my heart with a warmth so pure, a fire so gentle. Your love is the light that guides me in the darkest of times. I am forever enchanted by your tenderness...’"

You froze, the back of your neck prickling with embarrassment. “Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself. “What... what was I even saying here?”

Choso, still looking like he was on the verge of another round of tears, nodded seriously. "Yeah, exactly. It’s... it’s beautiful, right? Your words… your love..."

You gave him a wide-eyed look. "Beautiful?! Choso, baby, this is... so cringey! This is—you—this is... I... nooooooo." You threw the letter down onto the table in sheer dramatic agony. “I literally cannot believe I wrote this to you. Why would I—why would I say that?!” You buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you dramatically flopped forward. “I’m a monster. I should never be allowed to write anything ever again. That is so... so embarrassing.”

Choso was still staring at you, eyes wide, clearly not understanding your level of discomfort. “But... I loved it. I love it. I loved the way you saw me then... you really felt that way about me?”

You groaned, covering your face in your hands, your voice muffled. “Yes, but god, I was so dramatic! So cheesy! Like, ugh! Look, ‘your presence fills my heart with warmth’?” You could feel yourself melting from the inside out. “Who even talks like that? It’s like I was writing for a novel.”

“But I... I liked it,” Choso said quietly, his voice filled with a sweetness that nearly undid you. “I liked how much you loved me. I didn’t even know it at the time, but... it meant everything to me.”

You blinked, glancing at him through your fingers. He looked so sincere—and that only made the cringe worse.

You sighed dramatically, still half-buried in your hands. “Choso, I swear, I’m literally going to die of secondhand embarrassment.”

He tilted his head, that same soft, patient look in his eyes as he reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I don’t think you get it. I’m so happy that you loved me like that. It’s... perfect. It’s you, and it’s real. And even if it’s cheesy... it makes me feel like the luckiest man alive.”

You finally peeked out from your hands, looking at him with a mix of fondness and absolute horror. “You’re too sweet. I’m dying. You’re gonna make me melt into a puddle of shame.”

“I don’t mind if you melt... as long as I get to hold the pieces of you after.” Choso grinned, his soft, sad little smile turning into something mischievous.

“Okay, okay, stop! You can’t just say stuff like that after I’ve shown you my deep, emotional self-doubt!” You sat up, pushing at his chest playfully. “I’ll die if you keep making me feel things after the disaster of a letter I wrote!”

Choso chuckled softly, but you could see the tenderness in his gaze. “I don’t care if it’s dramatic. I love it. I love you, even more than I loved that letter.”

You slumped back in your chair, finally letting out a breath, though your heart was still pounding a little too fast. “You’re going to be the end of me, I swear.”

Choso’s grin softened into something more sincere, and he reached out to gently pull you close, his hands holding you tight, as if to shield you from any more cringe.

“Maybe it’s dramatic, but I’d rather you be dramatic than not love me at all.” His voice was quiet, full of something vulnerable. “And I’d never stop loving you, no matter how cheesy you get.”

You buried your face in his chest, trying not to think about the letter—or your poor, poor, dramatic younger self.

"You're impossible," you muttered, but there was no bite in it. You couldn’t stay mad at him—not when he was holding you like this, his warmth wrapping around you.

Choso just chuckled softly. "I’m not the one who wrote that letter, sweetheart. You were the impossible one."

Shiu Kong was going through some files in the home office, the flicker of a late afternoon sun casting a warm glow on the scattered paperwork.

He was getting a little frustrated, squinting at the documents, trying to locate the one he needed for a client’s case. His fingers flipped through stacks, his mind focused, until—whoops—he accidentally knocked over a pile of papers, and something unexpected fell out from the top.

It was an envelope. A familiar, old envelope with your handwriting on it.

His heart skipped a beat. "Wait... is this—?"

He gently picked it up, almost afraid to open it, yet unable to resist. He recognized the handwriting immediately—it was from a long time ago. Way before the two of you had gotten married. His mind raced as he slowly tore open the seal.

He started reading, and had to stop himself from audibly cackling.

The words were so you—so full of love and warmth, but also... a little bit of that cringey youthful romanticism that made him smile despite himself. You'd written it when you were still dating, back when he was just “Shiu” and not husband. And yet, every line, every word, made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

You had written about him like he was some sort of prince, some otherworldly figure—a knight in shining armor. "The way you make me feel... like no one else could ever compare... your strength and your heart both captivate me in ways I never thought possible..."

The more he read, the more he felt like he was floating. Was this really how you had felt back then? Was this really how you still felt now?

"Oh my god...," he muttered under his breath, practically glowing with pride.

Meanwhile, you were coming back from the kitchen, wiping your hands on a dish towel when you saw Shiu standing in the office doorway, a smirk on his face, that sparkle in his eye that meant trouble.

He looked at you, holding the letter out between his fingers like some kind of treasure.

“Shiu, what are you doing with that?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your face was already red from the pure horror of it all.

He held the letter out toward you. “Well, well, little wife, seems you’ve written me a letter... a very romantic letter, if I may say so.”

Your stomach dropped. No. No no no nooooooo.

“Shiu,” you groaned, dramatically clutching your chest like you were about to faint. “Please... for the love of everything, don’t.”

He looked at you, eyes wide with mock innocence. “What? You don’t want me to read it aloud? Because I was about to tell you how much you loved me in your own words.” He dramatically cleared his throat. “‘The way you make me feel… like no one else could ever compare. Your strength and your heart captivate me in ways I never thought possible.’"

You froze, your face burning. “Shiu, stop it! God, I should never have written that!” You covered your face with both hands. “Now you’re gonna have this massive ego boost, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

His grin was practically glowing. “Oh, I don’t know... I think I could get used to being praised like that.”

“No,” you said with a dramatic sigh, turning away from him, though you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed and amused. “This is terrible. Why would I even say something like that? I was so young and so—ugh—dramatic.”

He stepped closer, putting a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. “Don’t you dare act like you weren’t swooning over me,” he teased, his voice soft and full of affection. “I mean, look at this—‘your strength and your heart.’ You thought I was some kind of god, huh?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands again. “I didn’t think you were a god! Okay, maybe I did a little, but... please, just let it go!” You shook your head, your voice muffled through your fingers. “I was literally just trying to write something cute for you and... now you’re gonna be insufferable.”

He gave a playful chuckle and pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Insufferable? I think I’m quite tolerable when it comes to my adoring wife.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You’re so full of it, Shiu.”

His grin softened, and he kissed your forehead. “But you still love me, right? Even though I know just how much you adored me.”

You dramatically sighed again, but there was no real bite behind it. “Fine, fine. But don’t get too cocky, okay?”

Shiu's arms tightened around you, and he laughed softly. “You have no idea how much I love you, sweetheart. This letter just reminded me how lucky I am to have you.”

Your heart swelled, despite the embarrassment still gnawing at you. “I can’t believe you’re making me relive my past awkwardness, though. Honestly, I might just... pass out from secondhand embarrassment. Please, Shiu. Please just... pretend you didn’t read it.”

He leaned back, gazing at you with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying the torment. “Never. Now, every time I look at you, I’ll just think about how much you adored me... and I’ll never let you forget it.”

You buried your face in his chest, half-laughing and half-groaning in pure exasperation. “You’re such a brat, you know that?”

He kissed the top of your head, the fondness in his gaze turning soft. “And you love it, don’t lie.”

You sighed again, but this time, it was full of fond affection. “Yeah, yeah. I do.”

And despite your earlier regret, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside. The letter may have been cheesy, and Shiu’s ego may have just gained a massive boost, but in the end, all that really mattered was that you were both here, together, laughing at something so silly.

That was love. And maybe... just maybe... you wouldn't mind writing a few more dramatic letters in the future.

It had been a long day.

Hiromi was hunched over his desk, the soft click of his pen as he filled out legal papers filling the quiet apartment. His mind was far from the case at hand, though- it was lost in thoughts of his beautiful wife, who was cooking dinner in the next room.

His thoughts were interrupted by the rustling of paper. He frowned as his hand brushed against something odd—a few pieces of folded paper that had somehow slipped between the case files. Curious, he unfolded one of the papers, thinking it might be something related to the case. What he found, though, made his breath catch in his throat.

It was a letter.

Not just any letter — a love letter. His wife’s handwriting.

The paper was old, the edges slightly curled from time, but it was unmistakably the words of someone who had poured their heart out. And as his eyes skimmed over the words, his stomach dropped.

The letter was filled with descriptions of him.

“I love how your smile reaches your eyes…” “How are you always so handsome? I could never get over how perfect you look even after a long day…"

The more he read, the tighter his chest felt. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how you had described him — like the knight in shining armor, but in such an innocent, endearing way that it made his heart ache.

And then there was a drawing at the back. Of his profile. A very detailed, very beautiful drawing of his face, his features so carefully captured that it almost felt like a gift all on its own.

“God, you were so sweet back then,” he murmured, running a hand over his face.

He could hear you humming in the kitchen, unaware of the storm you had just caused in his mind. He couldn’t just leave it there. No. He was going to show you how much he loved you. After all, you thought he was handsome even then. Surely, you deserved a reminder that he thought the same about you — and that he had been crazy about you for years.

He stood up, the letter clutched tightly in his hand, and made his way into the kitchen, his heart racing. You looked up, your expression warm and inviting, a little confused when you saw him holding the letter.

“Hiromi?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step toward you, and then another, until he was close enough to feel the warmth of your body. Without saying a word, he kissed you. Slow at first, as though savoring the moment. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved over yours with more urgency.

You blinked, surprised at the intensity of the kiss. Your hands instinctively rose to his shoulders, pressing into the solid muscle beneath his shirt. When he pulled away, his lips were still a breath away from yours, eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hiromi?” you asked again, slightly breathless now. “What’s going on? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he held up the letter. “I found this,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “And I have to say… I’m feeling a little… inspired.”

You froze. Your eyes darted to the paper in his hand, your stomach doing a flip. You recognized the handwriting immediately.

“Oh God,” you muttered, cheeks flushing. “I was so dramatic back then…”

Hiromi smirked.

“I don’t know about ‘dramatic,’ but I’d say ‘adorable’ fits better.” His thumb ran over the edges of the letter, his gaze flickering between your face and the paper. “I think I need to show you how much I love you too. Since, you know, you think I’m handsome.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, his lips were on yours again, this time with an intensity that made your heart beat erratically in your chest. His hands slid down your sides, pulling you closer until there was no space between you two.

“Hiromi,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the collar of his shirt, but he wasn’t hearing you. He was too busy kissing you like it was the only thing that mattered.

“Is that what you thought back then?” His voice was low, almost a growl, as his lips trailed down your neck, making you shiver. “You think I’m handsome, huh?”

Your face was burning, your chest rising and falling in time with the heavy breaths escaping your lips.

“I—I mean, yeah… I did—do.”

He smiled against your skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to pull you even closer, the heat of his body making everything inside you melt.

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank you.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips were on yours again, this time, even more demanding.

You knew what was coming next, and frankly, you were already done resisting. You had already called him handsome so many times in that damn letter—seven years ago—and now he was going to show you exactly what he thought about that.

He pressed you back against the counter, the intensity of his kiss never wavering as his hands moved with practiced ease.

“You never stop flattering me, do you?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear. “I will take that as a challenge.”

Your breath hitched as his hands worked their magic, making you forget about everything except him. You had written it years ago, but tonight, in this moment, you were about to feel every word you had written — and more.

And as his lips found yours again, the room seemed to shrink.

A/N: idk, i think this was funny, maybe it was a little ooc for some of em... alSO LOOK I WROTE FOR CHOSO!!! anyways... yeah! (also someone sent me a hilarious ask abt how the jjk men would react to reader throwing themselves out of a moving car during an argument and thats fucking hilarious im writing it rn)

Masterlist.

:)

[zkg2318]

Blood on Fire ~ pt. 3 | PJS

A/N: this is part 3 of the BOF series, please read part 1 for the story to make sense as these are heavily driven by plot. Also, i apologize if the smut is a bit too vanilla for your liking, but i tried to add a bit of uniqueness to it. as compensation, i wrote a slight aftercare scene (and i almost never do that cuz im bad at writing it) have fun reading. also, sorry for the ending lol

genre/tags for this part ✶ MDNI reverse harem!hyung line x afab!reader, angst, smut, gore and violence, supernatural themes, (sirens, werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, phoenixes, frost elves, dragons, witches, and more…), major character death (don't worry), blood, verbal and physical violence, lots of murder, manipulation, lots of death, panic attacks, government themes (not political), fight club au, ot7

synopsis ✶ In a city where the supernatural are arrested on sight, the only refuge for their pent-up rage is “The Enha Arena”- an exclusive, hidden venue where creatures engage in brutal, blood-soaked battles with one another. Concealed beneath the unassuming exterior of “Dusk and Dawn,” a gym that serves as the front of a totally legal business, this underground fight club acts as the epicenter for this violent world where supernatural beings not only fight for dominance and pride but for the sheer thrill of it all. In dire need of some money, you find yourself drawn into the fight club when you come across a black market job posting- an offer for a new trainer at the gym. Desperate for new ways to keep your own abilities under wraps and even learn about other supernatural beings, you accept the position, completely unaware of the dangers and complicated relationships that await you

WC ✶ 12.7

part 2

smut warnings under the cut

smut warnings ✶ monster erotica (obviously), unprotected sex, very brief dom!reader, grinding, slight overstimulation, fluffy aftercare, emotional sex

In the darkness of Luxta’s hidden underbelly, K slaves away for the black market, The Veil in particular, scraping by on a barely livable wage. Desperation has become his best friend now; daring him to escape these circumstances, no matter what. He moves through the outskirts of Luxta with an agonizing slowness, the years worth of working evident in his gait.

Raised like most of the supernatural around here- alone without the guidance of a parental figure, K has brought it upon himself to pay his dues by giving back to the supernatural youth- children who have yet to be sold in the black market or older adolescents who were lucky enough to live in The Veil’s residences.He spends his nights navigating the narrow alleyways located on the outskirts of Luxta that have slowly become the habitat to these ‘monsters’, a notepad in hand as he records statistics and hands out supplies. 

In the beginning, it fulfilled K, knowing he was giving these kids some sort of temporary comfort during the hardest part of their lives. But at some point in time, that comfort dissipated and turned into burn out. Seeing their faces every night, many much too young to be carrying the burden of survival, was just too much for him. But there wasn’t an easy out for K, the supernatural didn’t exactly have access to everyday jobs like humans did. Many had to rely on underground jobs like dealing drugs and committing illegal acts. 

It’s storming now, and the only protection there is are the tents that The Veil has graciously put out for children to commune under. The harsh rain pounds against the makeshift shelters, deafening the murmurs of the children underneath them. K walks around with a sheet of paper in his hand, greeting several children of various ages huddling together for warmth, creating a list of their abilities and what they are. He blinks away the rain infiltrating his vision as he watches some of the children ignite small flames from their palms, a small attempt at experimenting with their powers in order to offer a subtle warmth for others around them to share. Other children aren’t as lucky, shivering as the harsh wind hits their bones. 

As K moves through this particular camp, he spots a figure moving in the distance- his face obscured by the hood of his cloak. A small boy, who stands in front of K, is quickly moved behind him as he straightens his posture to hide him from the strange man’s view. “Don’t you think the sky’s a bit dark for you to be out this late?” K asks, suspicion creeping away in his voice. 

“It glimmers or some shit,” the man grumbles as he shoves a wet envelope into K’s hand. His tone is dismissive and groggy as he continues to speak, “If you want to get out of this shit show, follow the instructions of this envelope.” 

Before K can say anything, the mysterious man turns on his heel and disappears into the shadow. But his eyes catch onto a glint of metal that shines under the moonlight that’s tucked under his cloak, almost completely obscured if not for the bulk of the item being so big. With furrowed eyebrows, K realizes what it was that caught the moonlight’s glint- a government scanner. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

When K had come to Yuqi the other day after a long winded workout, she hadn’t expected him to say much, let alone reveal something so rattling. His presence never failed to make her unsteady, no matter how much she told herself she trusts him. There was just something in his aura that left the serpent hybrid on edge. Yuqi had expected to be the last person K chose to confide in, memories of her venom searing into his face burned her vision like bright flashes. Yet he was still there, standing before her with something dark in his eyes. 

“Yuqi, there’s something I need to tell you.” There was sweat decorating his hairline as he addressed Yuqi, seriousness hanging in the air based on how he kept his head hung low. 

Yuqi turned to him with an unsuspecting gaze that masked the unease settling in her stomach, “Is everything okay?” 

K seemed to grimace before her and swallowed a growing lump in his throat before speaking, “Not really, no.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I know my character may not be the most likable, especially after I let things get out of control when I sparred with Heeseung, but I’m hoping you’ll hear me out with honesty.”

“I’m listening.”

K hesitated, unlike him to waver in what it was he wanted to say. “The other day, I overheard Y/n on the phone. Something was off. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, especially because she sounded so distressed- but I heard enough. She spoke about the enforcement division and I learned from there that it was her idea to send the officers in to inspect the building.”

Yuqi’s stomach twisted at K’s reveal. “What are you saying, K?”

“I dropped something by accident, out of surprise. She noticed my presence and hung up her phone immediately. Y/n came straight over to me and told me that if I ever tried revealing what she said, she’d spin it back on me.” 

Yuqi’s mind raced a mile a minute, she wasn’t sure what to believe. Y/n? The same Y/n that was slowly making her way into their fractured community? The same Y/n that spent her vulnerable time cleaning up the team’s wounds after matches, or the same Y/n that held them in her arms when they let their defenses down. That didn’t seem like you. But no matter what Yuqi thought about you, anxiety burned in her chest. 

“Do you know how absurd you sound?”

“Yes…” he said with a strained sigh, “But you know I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure of it myself. I was shocked to see firsthand the kind of lengths she’d go to in order for the gym to shut down. She mentioned during one of our conversations that as a phoenix, she wished for the people of Luxta to see the supernatural in a better light. I think exposing the gym was her way of doing that, at least the first step of it.” There’s a tense look of pity on K’s face as he recounts his observations to Yuqi. Despite what he showed on the outside, K  was brimming with excitement and he was lucky that Yuqi’s hearing wasn't good enough to hear the loud pounding of his heart. “For now, I think we should just keep an eye on her.” 

Yuqi’s breath caught in her throat and she kissed the inside of her teeth. “I’ll keep it in mind.” She said with strained tension, but the words felt like lead on her tongue, a poison that was inching its way down her throat like the revelation of your possible betrayal. K nodded and then proceeded to place a comforting hand on Yuqi’s shoulder in a forced reassurance, but she brushed it away. He took that as his cue to leave and gave her a parting glance before disappearing. 

In his absence, Yuqi’s throat felt tight. She couldn’t find it within herself to believe his words. She had watched you from afar, observed you slowly get closer and closer to the boys, with Minnie. The idea of you going behind their backs to betray them crushed her like a vice, like her own serpent tail was constricting her organs from inside. 

Then came the night you approached Yuqi, and Yuqi felt her heart drop a million feet. Your story was so carefully constructed to shift the blame onto K that it almost seemed believable. But his accusation echoed like a drumbeat in her head as she listened to your quivering confession. 

Yuqi wanted to believe, God did she want to trust you. But the weight of her responsibilities overshadowed that benefit of doubt she would have given you had K not come to her first. She was more worried about the safety of her gym and the boys to pay any mind to you as a person. So in a moment of haste, she fired you- and the boys followed. They said hurtful things to your face and Yuqi could see their every word break you down just a little bit more. 

You lost your friends, your job, the family you built with them all within a matter of seconds. She told herself it was for the greater good, but the look on your face was too much; it took everything in her to go through with your dismissal. The last she saw of you was when she forced herself to look away from you and leave the area after firing you. It tore her apart on the inside to see such a shattered looking face on you while also knowing you had the audacity to betray them all. Yuqi wasn’t sure she deserved her own forgiveness- whether it be for letting a traitor into the gym, or for fooling herself into what she thought was a lifelong friendship with you. 

Jungwon, on the other hand, laid awake for days following your departure. He had already had some suspicions regarding K’s integrity, ever since he lost control on Heeseung, he’s remained wary around the older man. Seeing the way K acted after you officially left solidified that little doubt in his mind. He saw first hand how quickly K filled your void. He started to approach Jungwon in an effort to gain his trust, but Jungwon saw through it all. He saw through the forced smiles and practiced words like it was a poorly executed performance.  The cracks in K’s facade were only getting bigger with each interaction Jungwon had with him. 

And it wasn’t just Jungwon that had been approached, but all the others. K’s efforts to get closer- even closer than he was before, increased by tenfold. None of them noticed though, too busy dragging their feet in the ghost of your absence. Jungwon didn’t say anything, but he knew he should. 

He needed to see you. 

After a painful week of sleepless nights and self-doubt, Jungwon decided tonight was the night to confront you, to check in with you. So he gave the maknaes a brief goodbye and waved to his hyung’s before leaving the gym in a hurry. The usual fifteen minute walk to your new apartment felt like an eternity, and the weight of his duffel bag and the burden he carried with him didn’t help. Jungwon wasn’t sure of what it was that he wanted to get out of seeing you, but he was void of any expectations because he knew from a long time ago what a mistake it was to have hope. And the cold wind biting at his red-tinted cheeks only reminded him of that dark resolve. It was colder than usual. 

Given the early hour of the day, the streets Jungwon walks along are eerily silent, quiet enough he could hear a pin drop. Jungwon thrived in silence, but this one felt impending. 

When he turns the corner and comes face to face with the brick material of your building, Jungwon straightens himself. What would he say? Should he apologize? He realizes now that he really should’ve planned this better, but before he can even ascend up the steps to your apartment, he hears a strained gargle coming from your alleyway.  He almost turns away, thinking it’s probably just a stupid raccoon getting into the trash, but he walks down to inspect the noise as a way to delay the inevitable of seeing your face. 

As he walks further down the alley, he squints his eyes and spots a small figure on the ground. Upon moving closer, his eyes catch on something white- the same white sneakers he used to bully you about for always getting scuffed. Before he can even process it, Jungwon jumps into a full sprint. 

When he gets to your side, he collapses to his knees right beside you and ignores the warm feeling of your blood staining his sweats. “Y/n!” He calls in a hurry, scanning your body. “Stay awake for me!” He says as he attempts to shake you awake. 

You barely stir under his touch, a weak groan leaving your lips as he nervously cradles your face. Jungwon winces internally as he takes in the state of your body. There were cuts and bruises marring your face and a stream of blood that was crusted from your nose. Below your face, there was a dark stain of red that was staining your hoodie, and ultimately him as well. You needed help, help from someone that knew how to deal with this sort of stuff. But Jungwon felt conflicted, torn between not wanting to be caught meeting with you but also not wanting your condition to worsen. Deciding in a hurry, he fishes out his phone. As the line rings, he takes a look at the rest of you and dry heaves. 

Though he can’t see much past your clothing, he is able to make out the shape of a boot print left all over your hoodie and a hole where your blood slowly seeps out of. “Shit,” he whispers, pressing a hand to your side. You instinctively flinch under his touch yet again, the sudden pressure having you writhing around in agony. 

“Please- don’t do this K!” You mutter through broken sobs, barely conscious enough to process what was really happening. You choke on the thickness of your blood pooling in your mouth and lurch forward to spit some of it out. “Don’t hurt me, I promise I- I won’t say anything!” 

Jungwon’s heart drops and he rushes to whisper soothing words into your ear. “No, no- Y/n, it’s me, Jungwon. You’re safe.” 

The line finally picks up and Jungwon lets out a strained sigh of relief. “Jay hyung! Please, I need you to come to my location right away.”

“What? Ok, hold on.” There’s some shuffling on the other line and then, “What the hell are you doing at Y/n’s place?” 

Jungwon flinches at his best friend's words, unsure if he made the right choice. But one look at your squirming figure is enough to tell him that he didn’t, “Just get the hell here, Y/n’s been attacked.”

Silence. And then a groan. “What do you mean, attacked?”

“Just get your fucking ass down here, I don’t know what to do, I think she’s bleeding out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already in the car. Sunoo is coming with me.” 

Minutes feel like hours as Jungwon presses his hands up against your wound, struggling to maintain the steady flow of blood leaving your body. Finally, when a set of headlights pierces the cold haze of the night, Jungwon’s body slumps. “Over here!” Jungwon calls weakly, finding himself losing feeling in his hands. Jay and Sunoo sprint down to where you and Jungwon are, their faces morphing into horror as they take in the situation. 

From an outside perspective, it looks as though both you and Jungwon were attacked as shown by the blood ruining his clothes. “Jungwon-” Jay says, hurrying to grab Jungwon’s shoulders. The older boy gently pulls him away and whispers comforting words into the panicking boy while Sunoo quickly takes Jungwon’s place. His hands replace Jungwon’s and he winces at the feeling of your blood spread around his palm. 

Jungwon begins to hyperventilate once he’s removed from the situation, the shock kicking in as adrenaline leaves his body. He lays there protectively in Jay’s arms as Sunoo begins to bark commands.  “Jay, grab my phone and call Kim Namjoon.” 

Jay moves with purpose and grabs the phone peeking out from Sunoo’s back pocket, “What should I say?” 

“Tell him to meet us at this address and that he needs to bring his kit. Now.” 

Jay follows Sunoo’s directions, hanging up the phone when said man confirms their location. “Alright, now we need to move her into her apartment, we can’t take her to a hospital.” 

Lifting you is done with delicacy, though it’s excruciating for you. It starts with your arm, the movement sending a splintering pain through your shoulder and you scream. Shortly after getting you up to your feet, a splitting headache swarms your head. You can’t do anything more than scream and let out a string of incoherent words. 

Eventually, you’re moved inside with a shaking Jungwon following after you all. “Her keys- they’re in her pocket.” Jungwon hiccups, his face streaming with fresh tears. Sunoo grabs your keys and unlocks your apartment door slower than he would have liked, but it doesn’t matter. Once the door is open, Jay and Sunoo burst inside and move to set you down on the couch, not caring that your blood quickly makes its home in the fabric. You can buy a new one. 

“Should we call the others?” Jungwon asks, shutting the door behind him.

“No.” Jay is quick to answer as he shakes out his arms, the awkward position of carrying you likely forming a knot in his shoulder. “They’ll freak the hell out and we do not need that right now.” 

In the minutes that follow, Sunoo runs to grab towels and sets them under your body while a knock on your door sounds. Sunoo looks at Jungwon and silently asks for him to get the door. Jungwon runs to the front of your place, opening the door to a tall man with metal framed glasses perched on his nose. “Tell me what happened,” he says, pushing past Jungwon and straight to you and Sunoo. 

“There’s a stab wound to her right side, we can’t manage to stop the bleeding and it seems like her arm may have been broken. I can’t really tell you much else, I’m sorry.” Sunoo sniffles, moving back to let the man open his kit. 

Namjoon works with a sharp efficiency, quickly attaching you to an IV and pushing morphine through the clear tube. As the older man rips open a dressing tray, Sunoo turns to Jay and Jungwon’s confused expressions. “This is Namjoon, a griffin. He fled Luxta many years ago to pursue a career in surgery.”

Jay, more present than Jungwon, looks to his friends with his eyebrows raised. “He went to Chambers, it’s three cities over. The supernatural don’t exist there, so Namjoon could live his own life there freely without the same restrictions we face in Luxta.”

There was little known about what lay beyond the outskirts of Luxta, its borders heavily guarded by government officials as a way to prevent the supernatural from escaping. The few that tried were never heard again. How Namjoon managed to get past them remains a mystery. 

“Namjoon came to Luxta one day and took me in when I was 7. We went right back to Chambers and he raised me as his apprentice until I turned 20. When I became of age, he told me to go back, and said I’d make a difference.” Sunoo continues to explain with a slightly softer voice than before, finally at ease with the way Namjoon works around your body. 

Jay, feeling that same wave of relief, walks over to Jungwon who is slumped against the wall with his head in his knees. “Jungwon…” he whispers, approaching the young boy with concern. He fights the urge to lash out at Jungwon, to scold him for breaking the group's trust and going out to see you. Jay decides to change his approach out of pity for the younger boy, a soft side he doesn’t hold for the other boys.  He couldn’t stand to keep looking at the way Jungwon quivered in the corner and hid in his own shell- it had taken so long to get him out of it when they first started living together, he didn’t want him going back. “Can you tell us what happened?”

The smaller boy looks up with red-rimmed eyes and snot dripping from his nose. He hiccups a few times before speaking. “She- she said his name, K.” His stare is blank as he replays the sound of your screams and sobs- your broken pleas to get K to stop. His heart rips at the memory of you all bloodied and vulnerable, completely helpless and waiting there for death to consume you. Completely unaware of his surroundings, Jungwon’s breathing speeds up and Jay hurries to slide down the wall and sit beside him.

“Breathe for me, Jungwon,” He coos, caressing the younger boy's hair. Jay tucks Jungwon’s head into his chest and looks at Sunoo with despair. “Can you feel your hands?” 

Jay knows Jungwon is panicking, and he knows that when he does, he loses feeling in his extremities. So, he ushers Jungwon to put his hands in Jay’s and begins to massage them, restoring blood flow. “Shh, it’s ok. She’s safe now.” He whispers with every sniffle of Jungwon’s. 

At some point, Jungwon’s breathing calms down just as Namjoon finishes stitching you up. Sunoo takes that chance to look at your body, hoodie sheared off and bruises finally presenting themselves to the world. Sunoo’s heart clenches with despair and a single tear finally makes its debut on Sunoo’s face. The sight of your bruises makes Sunoo nauseous so he looks away.

Namjoon seems to notice the blossom of bruises spanning across your torso and clicks his tongue. He brings out a stethoscope from his kit and presses it over various spots of your body, listening carefully before taking it off. Following that, his hands move to your side and he palpates the area, stopping when you let out another choked sob. “I think she’s broken a few ribs, maybe even fractured some. There’s no way for me to confirm without an x-ray, but I didn’t hear any signs of a collapsed lung, thankfully.”

“Will she be okay?” Sunoo whispers with a shaky voice. 

Namjoon offers him a comforting nod. “She’s a phoenix.  With enough rest and medicine, she’ll be back to normal before you know it. Phoenixes- they’re resilient; they’re self healing.”

Namjoon phrases his words in a way to be reassuring, but he knows they do little to relieve the weight of the situation. From his observations, it seems that these boys were connected to you in a way not many others could relate. 

Collectively, they all turn to Jungwon next for an explanation. He breathes in a shaky inhale. He was gonna have to explain to them why he was visiting you. “I… I’ve been suspicious of K hyung for a while. I’ve had doubts about him since he hurt Heeseung, so I came to Y/n’s to talk about him. But then I found her like that, begging me to not hurt her.” Another river of tears follows before Jungwon can finish. “She- she thought I was K. She thought I was hurting her.” 

Jay shakes his head slowly and sighs, tightening his grip on the younger boy's hand. “I believe you, I know you wouldn’t lie. But, getting the others to believe us is another story…” 

Sunoo chimes in too, “I believe you too. I’ve had my own reservations against K, but I lost focus when Y/n left. I was so consumed with my own grief, I couldn’t see any true colors.” He looks to the ground with shame, lacing his fingers through your limp hand. Though he speaks quietly, his words carry the weight of a thousand apologies. Turning to address you, he croaks out an apology. “I’m sorry, Y/n. We should have never questioned your loyalty to us, your genuineness.”

Jay looks like he’s about to do the same, ready to echo Sunoo’s words, but Namjoon steps forward and demands their attention with just his presence.

“There is one way that we can confirm everything that’s happened.” He says, dropping his voice. “As a griffin, I have the ability to see people’s memories through touch.” 

The room falls silent and Namjoon takes that moment to get rid of his latex gloves. With a softened gaze, he kneels beside you and presses a hand to your cheek. The veins in his hands light up and a rush of your most recent memories flood Namjoon’s mind- fast and overwhelming. The recollection of your most recent memories twists your face into a look of anguish and the three boys standing off to the side can only do as much as exchange a look of pain. They remain silent though, a witness to Namjoon’s powers. 

After what feels like an eternity, Namjoon finally takes his hand off of your face and watches the glow of his veins fade away. He turns to the boys with an unsteady cadence in his breathing. 

“Would you rather I tell you,” he starts with a hitch in his breath, “or show you?” 

Jay answers Namjoon with a look of desperation, “Can you show all of us?” 

Namjoon gives the boy a nod and beckons them forward, settling on the back of his calves as the three boys crowd around him. He grabs Sunoo’s hand, who is standing in the middle, and tells the others to press their foreheads to Sunoo’s temples. 

When they move to connect themselves to Sunoo, visions of what Namjoon saw surge through their own minds. It hits like a tsunami, all at once and unrelenting. Tears fall from Jay’s closed eyes as he watches through your own point of view the discovery of K’s betrayal. His heart clenches with guilt, heavy with shame as he helplessly observes you battle with the strain of his secrets, your own health deteriorating at the hands of K.  

Sunoo doesn’t fare much better, trembling with a coil of shame that’s daring to burst at any minute. He squeezes Namjoon’s hand tighter with every passing second, wincing at the way the boys looked at you when you were let go. The quiet accusation in their eyes, he feels everything- your heartbreak, your isolation, your despair. He wishes he could take it all away, erase what you saw, but it’s too late. 

And then the attack. They listen to the words exchanged between you and K. A tense back and forth that only leads to you being slammed against the wall. Visions of you twisting violently in the grasps of your attackers flash through their minds, a reflection of your pain surging through their bodies, but at a fraction of what you actually felt. 

Jungwon gasps and stumbles away from Sunoo before the memories can get too vivid. He clutches his  stomach in pain, absolutely nauseated by the memory of your attack. It was too raw, too vivid for him to watch. He didn’t want to see first hand how you came to be a sad, pitiful lump of flesh in the middle of your alley. Yet, Jay and Sunoo stay, faces twisting into looks of anguish as they finish the rest of the attack. 

When Sunoo breaks the connection, Jay drops to his knees and scrambles to your side, clutching at your hand with a gut wrenching sob.”Y/n, fuck.” He pleads through a wave of tears, “I- I’m so sorry. What- what should I do?” There's a storm of guilt thundering beneath his skin and it takes all his willpower not to scream out. Sunoo watches Jay’s grip on your hand tighten to the point your skin turns white. 

“Don’t, don’t hurt her more.” He says quietly, placing a hand over Jay’s. 

Jay hesitantly listens to Sunoo, easing up on your grip and falling back. He drops his head and presses himself to the back of your hand. “Yuqi and Minnie, can you show them? And the others?” 

Namjoon responds with a strained voice, “I can.” He pauses, resting a hand on Jay’s back. “Not now, later. I’ve done what I can, she just needs rest now. Would one of you be able to stay with her?” 

Jay’s head snaps up immediately, his hand shooting up in the air, “I can do it.” He says with a look of determination. He barely registers Sunoo’s bittersweet smirk. 

“Good, I’ll see you all tomorrow at the gym.” Namjoon says before guiding the other boys out of your apartment. 

When your apartment door shuts, Jay finally allows himself to crumble. He rests his head against your thigh and relishes in the feeling of your warmth- a reminder that you were still here, still breathing. Without blinking, he watches the ragged rise and fall of your chest, a minute detail that barely keeps him grounded. The boy lets out a shaky breath, face damp with tears as he lets the weight of his guilt cave in on him. 

How could he make this right? Would he still be able to reclaim that bond he once had with you? Just thinking about you refusing to accept him back into your life makes his chest tighten, the ache of turning his back on you spreading like a slow poison. How could he forgive himself for clinging onto K in your absence, led blindly by his false narrative. He could only blame himself for his misplaced trust, and it killed him inside. It killed him that he could’ve stopped your attack from happening if he had just listened. His head feels like it’s going to explode with the relentless pressure of his thoughts. Drained of any energy he once had, he shakes his head and carefully picks you up, arms carrying the emotional weight of the situation more than the physical. 

Your body is limp in his arms and it makes Jay wince knowing that you're completely helpless in his presence, relying on him to keep you safe; something he didn’t feel very deserving of right now. You are like a rag doll in his arms, your consciousness having fled from the face of trauma. With a heavy heart, Jay carries you to your bedroom and as gently as he can, places you in your bed. 

He tucks the comforter around your body and then moves to pick the stray pieces of hair stuck to your face. In that moment of strained serenity, he focuses on the sound of your breathing. It should comfort him, ground him to know that you’re safe now, but it doesn’t. It only serves as a recipe for the bitter knot forming in his throat. 

He can’t bring himself to leave you alone, not after everything that just happened. So rather than retreating to the living room to give you the privacy you rightfully deserve, he hesitantly creates a makeshift bed right beside you on the ground. Just a few pillows and a throw blanket thrown to the ground is enough. He lies flat on his back with his hands clasped together across his stomach and lets his mind drift off. 

He thinks about you. About that stupid pull-up contest you roped him into on your first day, a catalyst for the impending competitions you’d share with him in the next few months. He thinks about your trust, and how you made every effort to look past his flaws and see him for who he is. All those times you laughed with him, an ache growing in your abdomen from laughing so much. It’s a punishing reminder of what he’s just lost. 

Several hours pass before you begin to wake up. Your eyelids feel heavy, like they’re weighed down by the events of last night. But you force them to open, blinking away the dryness that impedes your vision. Immediately, you feel pain shooting all over your body. You try to sit up anyways but a sharp throb radiating around your side keeps you from getting far. 

Suddenly, vivid memories of last night flash across your mind all at once- the cruel voice of K in your ear, the recollection of him treating you like a mere rag doll. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the memories to go away but they don’t. It happened, and it rips your heart apart. You feel as though you’re reliving the experience, every painful minute of it. 

You’re unaware of the fact that you’re hyperventilating until a hand rests on your shoulder. The touch comes suddenly and you flinch away from it, crying out in pain. “Y/n! It’s Jay. You’re safe, you’re safe.” He’s desperate to reassure you but he can’t help the way he repeats the last words like it’s a reminder to himself too. 

When you open your eyes, you see Jay. He looks horrible, eyes brimming with tears and a frown on his face that’s so broken you almost weep. But you don’t. Instead, you scowl at the mere reminder of him turning his back on you, leaving you in the dust.

You try to scream at him, to curse him out for being so selfish and leaving you without a second thought, but nothing comes out. Only a strangled moan leaves your throat. “Y/n…I-” his voice cracks with emotion and he coughs, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, there are not enough words in the world to express how sorry I am. I should have believed you.” He stares at the floor as he chokes out an apology, but you stay silent. Though you don’t have much of a choice. 

Jay knows his apology is only a bandaid over a gaping wound, but it still hurts him to see the anger on your face. Simmering just beneath your anger is a hollow ache that chases after your heart and you’re not sure if his words will be enough to fill it. 

You spend the rest of your day in bed with Jay doing everything he can to make you comfortable. A tense silence clouds the air, acting as an unspoken barrier that he doesn’t dare to break. You’re not speaking to him either- not because you don’t want to, but because you physically can’t. And you know all you’d have to say to him is a string of curse words and insults you probably wouldn’t mean a few days from now. 

With your voice shot, you have to rely on a bell to get his attention, but even with the bell, Jay doesn’t need it- constantly hovering around you every five minutes just to check in on you, afraid you’ll disappear if he looks away for too long. And every time he enters the room, he’s sporting the same broken look from before. It’s a look that haunts you when he changes your bandages, or when he feeds you, even when he’s adjusting your pillows; it’s the same solemn look every time. 

It’s a repetitive cycle that lasts throughout the entire day, him tending to your every need without you so much as lifting a finger. He does all of this in a painstaking silence, but you can feel the weight of his sorrow leaking past your defenses. But it’s too fresh, too soon to start unwrapping what’s been weighing on everyone’s minds lately. You’re afraid of confronting reality. 

Outside of the protection of your home, word of your attack reaches the rest of the group. Coincidentally, the news breaks on a day that K is nowhere to be seen, though his absence does little to alleviate the strain on Jungwon and Sunoo’s chests. The weight of yesterday’s events make every breath they take sharp and painful, like it’s stealing their air. 

They start with Yuqi, finding her at the front desk of the Dawn gym spinning around in her chair. “Yuqi,” Jungwon calls out, greeting her at the front. She quirks a brow at the three men, glancing at Namjoon who was a few feet behind him and Sunoo. “This is Namjoon- he’s a griffin.” 

“Yuqi, there’s something important we need to discuss. We need everyone.” Sunoo says with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his tone. 

She seems to hesitate for a second- something she’s started doing since the night you left, but nods her head and takes them into the Dusk gym. “Okay… Care to explain why you’re being so ominous?” She asks, a lame attempt at a joke. She can sense the tension, she’s not stupid. But with her confidence rattled, she’s not sure what to expect. 

Jungwon only shakes his head at Yuqi and anxiously awaits the arrival of the rest of the group once they reach the benches. When he sees the others approaching them, he starts to pick at his fingers, but Sunoo notices and takes his hand to hold in his. As the group settles around the benches, Sunoo steps up to speak, granting Jungwon the much needed reprieve he’s silently desired for. “Y/n was attacked last night.” 

Sunoo’s words hang at a stand still, like they’ve rendered the world of its ability to keep turning. He feels himself trembling with anxiety and he relies solely on gravity to keep him anchored. The silence is overwhelming, practically suffocating as he waits for his words to process through everyone- but it doesn’t last long. 

Sunghoon breaks the silence with anger, voice sharp and bitter that brims with the memories of your earlier betrayal. “I’m not surprised. Karma will always make its way around eventually.” 

Sunoo clenches his fist at his sides, heat rising through his body like a steaming pot. “You hate her that much?” He asks with a slight waver in his voice, struggling to control the anger at bay. The rest of the boys keep their eyes glued to the ground while Sunoo stares at him with a fury he’s never felt before. Jungwon must notice because he desperately tugs at Sunoo’s sleeve, an attempt to get him back on track. 

Sunoo lets out a forced exhale and straightens his posture, quickly pushing away the heat building in his body. “I’m going to choose to ignore that,” he starts, shooting Sunghoon a glare. “This is Namjoon, he’s a griffin. He can show you the truth.”

Before Namjoon can step forward, Jungwon chimes in, “Where’s Minnie?” He asks, noticing the lack of a second female from the group. 

“She called in sick.” Yuqi answers, focusing her attention on the older man behind him. 

Namjoon then steps forward with a solemn expression and reaches out for Yuqi’s hand. “I need you all to hold hands with Yuqi in the middle. This way, you’ll be able to see the same vision, the same truth.” 

The boys link hands as directed, a connection between the group eventually forming. Namjoon doesn’t say anything more, only closes his eyes and lets his veins light up again. Jungwon looks away once he sees the familiar radiance pass through his hands, the scene in front of him only acting as a harsh reminder of what happened just last night. 

Seconds pass by and then the first gasp. Yuqi’s heart drops and her face contorts into a twist of horror, the truth crashing through her like a tsunami. The first of your memories flash through her; the phone call, K’s voice, everything. The same fear that you felt when K caught you rips through Yuqi’s body like she was there herself. She was wrong, she was so wrong.

The boys react in varying degrees. Heeseung’s breath hitches and his guilt suddenly begins to eat him alive as he watches you deal with the burden of carrying K’s secret. Niki isn’t doing much better, a few stray tears slipping past his cheek as he clenches his jaw. And Sunghoon, usually so composed and well kept, screams in silence.The realization that they had it all wrong weighs heavily in their hearts, though Sunghoon remains motionless. The weight of their collective mistake scratches their insides like a hungry beast. 

And then it happens.

A strangled gasp rips from Sunghoon’s throat and he breaks off the chain, immediately finding eyes with Sunoo. He takes a step forward but Jake, who has also let his hands go, rushes to hold him back, unsure of what the frost elf was about to do. “She’s safe.” Namjoon says, taking his own hand back and pushing them into his pockets. “Sunoo, Jungwon, Jay and I worked together to make sure she’s stable.” 

“That fucker-” Sunghoon seethes, eyes glowing blue. “I’ll kill him!”

While Sunghoon thrashes in Jake’s grasp, the werewolf trying his hardest to keep the frost elf calm, Yuqi loses her grip on reality. “Oh my God…” She breaks her silence and brings a hand to her mouth, pupils expanding with her panic. “She was telling me the truth.” The serpent falls to the ground, body trembling as she clutches her burning chest. An unrestrained sob rips from her throat and a tear finally falls from her eyes. Sunoo winces; watching Yuqi- someone he grew to admire- break in front of him. 

“I need you to get up, Yuqi.” Sunoo says through gritted teeth, residual anger still lingering in his body. When she stands, body swaying slightly, Sunoo continues despite the growing lump in his throat from suppressing his tears for so long. “So now you all know what really happened. Y/n never lied, and the consequence of telling the truth was her being brutally attacked.”

Standing behind him, Jungwon flinches, startled by Sunoo’s sudden aggression. “Hyung- please…” he whispers, his hand reaching out to the older. 

Sunoo shakes his hand away from the boy but mentally kicks himself for his hypocrisy. He knows he harbored the same doubts as they did, but his resolve to fix what they so easily broke is persistent. The only way he could forgive himself was to get the others to come together. “We need to get rid of K.”

“And how the hell do we do that?” Jake asks, his mind crowding with thoughts as he finally lets go of Sunghoon, albeit reluctantly.

Heeseung, who was silent until now, steps forward. “We tell him the truth. If his mission was to give the government information, he’ll have to find another way. Kicking him out will keep him from monitoring us.” His voice holds steady, but on the inside, he’s crumbling. Burdened with the knowledge that you were left in the dark and faced only with the backs of those you trusted, he experiences an ache that could only be the equivalent of a stake driving through his heart. 

The room falls into a heavy silence, but an unspoken sense of unity slowly develops under the tension. With their eyes meeting under the harsh lights hanging above them, they nod their heads and redirect their grief towards getting rid of K. Memories of his betrayal echo against the walls of the gym, the place where it all started and the place where it’d all end. They just had to find him. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

 That following night, Jay and Y/n lie awake beside each other, yet it’s the furthest they’ve ever been emotionally. In the silence, Jay twiddles his fingers. “Y/n…” His voice pierces through the darkness of your room, quiet, but unmistakably there. “Are you still awake?”

You tell yourself not to answer him, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing your wall was slowly falling, but that stubborn part of you that’s been desperate for some semblance of comfort, doesn’t care. “Yes.”

Jay can’t say it surprises him when he hears the thorn in your voice, despite only giving him a one word answer. He doesn’t have the liberty to wince, only repent. Your simple response is like a betrayal to the storm that’s been brewing inside you the past few nights, ones that were never captured with sleep or rest. Night after night, you’ve woken up in a cold sweat gasping for air, memories of your own demise playing through your mind like a film reel. Not just K, but the undead too, the sickly stench of decay follows you like they’re still there, still holding you captive in their brittle arms.  You’re suffocating. 

“The others know, now. Yuqi and Minnie. The boys. Everyone.”

So why hadn’t you seen any of them- is what you want to ask, but you stay quiet. 

“They all feel awful.” He adds quickly, like he needs to reassure himself that it wasn’t just him that felt guilty.

You scoff with a bitter taste on your tongue, “They should.”

The anger, the rage that’s been building up over the last few days , suddenly courses through you all at once. You no longer feel an ache in your chest which has been overflowing with feelings of betrayal and abandonment, that was foreign now. All you felt now was a rage as hot as the flames you produced. “Not a single one of you gave me the benefit of the doubt, or stood up for me when I needed you guys the most.” You spit with accusation heavy in the words. 

“Y/n… I-“ he starts, but you cut him off. 

“Don’t say it.” 

You sit up suddenly, a sharp ring blaring in your ears when you do, but you ignore it. Jay’s laying on the floor with the blanket from your living room clutched in his hands, eyes dark with regret. “Don’t say sorry. Not again.” You seethe, bending forward to grab a fistful of his hair. “If you were really sorry, none of this would’ve happened.”

His face flashes with pain and he lets out a groan, throwing his hands up to your wrists in an attempt to get you to let go. “Y/n, please- I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.” 

Without a second thought, you clutch at his hair even tighter- the sudden power surging through your body. You were desperate for control, you needed something- someone- to break. “Come here,” You say. Your words are quiet but they burn with authority. 

The older boy moves to sit beside you, frantic eyes searching your face. “Wh-what do you need?”

“Kiss me.”

He freezes, but you don’t care. “If you’re really sorry for what you did, you’ll let me use you.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, one that’s just long enough for you to second guess your words, but he leans forward, cutting you off from your thoughts. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and you preen under the intimacy, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough to quell the fire growing inside you. 

“Harder,” you mutter, grabbing at the back of his head and pulling him towards you. Your next kiss is fueled with rage and desire, a complete juxtapose from the one just seconds ago. Your fingers twist the locks of his hair painfully and he groans into the kiss, a pain he slowly learns to crave for more. You slip your tongue into his mouth and swirl it around his own. It’s lewd and messy, spit exchanging between your mouths and falling past your swollen lips as you move your mouth against his. He closes his lips around your tongue, gently sucking on the muscle until you pull away. 

Breaking the kiss with only a string of saliva keeping you connected, you push his chest back until he’s laying flat on your bed. His breath catches in his throat as he watches you straddle his lap. “Y/n-”

“Shut up, just stop.” You say absently, settling into his lap and riding his shirt up his chest. He presses his mouth closed when you move to drag your fingers down the outline of his abs, tracing the subtle contour on his stomach. They flex under your touch, sensitive to the tips of your fingers. “So pretty,” you whisper to yourself, pressing your full palm to his stomach. Seeing him underneath you, lust quickly fills your thoughts and you grind down on his lap. It doesn’t do much to satisfy the growing need flourishing in your core, but it’s enough for now. 

His golden skin seems to glow under the moonlight shining through your window, shimmering against the sheen of sweat that’s quickly started to form on his abs. Your fingers move with a mind of their own, crawling upwards until they capture his nipples in the pads of your fingers. The pinkish-brown of his nipples perk up immediately, hardening in an instant under your touch. “Fuck…” he says through a sigh, throwing his head back onto your pillow. 

“Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes- Y/n, fuck.” 

Your fingers continue to twiddle with his nipples, his sudden twitches only stirring you on. With his quiet moans prodding against your defenses, you lean down and take one of them into your mouth. Your tongue swirls against the bud and Jay lets out a string of curses, throwing his hand up to hold back your hair. “Yes, keep doing that.” He pleads, gripping your hair tightly. 

You continue to flick your tongue against his nipple until your jaw aches for a break while you mouth at the bud. When you lean back, you flip your hair to the side and grind your ass down into his lap, earning a throaty groan from the boy. “Will you let me ride you?” you gasp between the back and forth of your hips. 

He nods hurriedly, throwing his hands to grab at your waist. You’re about to tell him off, but he starts to move your hips in tandem with your swaying and it extinguishes the scolding that rests on the  tip of your tongue. For a moment, the both of you enjoy the small act of desire as you use each other’s body to get off, but you quickly grow impatient when you feel the hardness of his cock underneath you.  “God, you make me so mad.” You say, feeling yourself let the anger run its way through your body.

You quickly get off of him and move to pull his shorts down, only leaving him in a pair of boxers that are stained with precum and his shirt that you had ridden up earlier. “This looks painful,” you say, palming at his bulge. 

He catches his bottom lip in his teeth and sucks in a gasp. “You like it when my hands are on your cock?” You ask, tracing the outline with your finger. 

Jay doesn’t manage more than a meager nod as you tighten your grip around his member, sliding your hand up and down. He’s achingly big in your grasp and it throbs with your every touch. Practically drooling for something to fill you up, you pull his boxers down and he springs free. His abdomen quickly stains with his precum and you lap at the shine, smiling up at him with your tongue sticking out.

You move off the bed to strip yourself of your panties, but a wave of hesitance washes through you and you freeze. You're completely out in the open for Jay to see and it burns a pit in your stomach, reminding you of your earlier vulnerabilities in the alley, but he quickly places a hand on your thigh and caresses it, sensing your unease. The sudden wavering of your confidence eliminates any sense of dominance you managed to exert on him and you melt like putty in his hands.  “So pretty, so beautiful.” He says quietly, holding eye contact with you as he gestures for you to sit back on him. 

The timbre of his voice unnerves you, extinguishing what little confidence you once had. You move to sit back on his lap again, your juices soaking his cock as soon as your folds wrap around his member. The heat of his arousal melts into your core and you shudder, “Move, baby.” He says, hands finding purchase on your hips. 

You begin to slide your hips back and forth, letting your arousal spread over his cock until it’s drenched in your slick. With every grind forward, the tip of his cock prods at your clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jay each time. “Put it in, princess.” He says, stilling your hips. 

Jay grabs the base of his cock and keeps it still for you as you sink down his length, the sudden stretch drawing out a wanton moan from your throat. “Mmph-” you moan out and bite your lip when the tip of his cock kisses the hilt of your cervix. With his cock breaching your body, you relish in the feeling of being full again. While temporary, that empty feeling in your belly quickly fills with a fire that blossoms further with your every movement. 

“You’re taking me so well, princess.” He praises, watching you with admiration in his eyes. “Will you take this off for me?” He tugs on the end of your shirt and you quickly rid yourself of the fabric, revealing the absence of a bra underneath. His dick twitches in response and he quickly moves his hands to hold your tits. “That’s it, baby.” 

You put a hand on the center of his chest to anchor your weight as you grind on his cock, his navel stimulating your clit whenever you push your hips forward. “Bounce, baby, ride it correctly.” He grunts, pushing your hips up slightly. 

“God, I hate you.” you whimper out, feeling his hardness slip in and out of you as you move to adjust yourself.

“I know, baby, I know.” 

It’s as though the heat of his touch is working to unravel the string that’s been knotted around your heart, guarding your weakest vulnerabilities. You fall weak to the closeness of his body, an intimacy you had been craving since you were let go. Your body subconsciously surrenders itself to him and dampens the strength of your anger. 

He squeezes his fingers around your hips and helps to lift you up and down his cock, the two of you working in tandem to reach the highs of your own pleasure. The drag of his cock moving through your pussy draws out a series of moans that you can’t hold back. He wraps his arms around your waist and brings you down to his chest, changing the pace of your act and thrusting upwards instead.

You feel vulnerable in his hold, exposed- but you finally begin to breathe. Your bitterness towards Jay still lingers, but it’s no longer the centerpiece of your emotions. Before you can stop it, tears begin to sting your eyes and your next blink has them falling down like a downpour. “Let it out, baby.” Jay whispers, stroking your back as he slows his thrusts. “I’m here for you now, I’m never gonna leave.” 

You sit back up and lean your hands back onto his knees, giving him full view of your body. Your hips move up and down on their own and you throw your head back in pleasure, all while your heart brims with an unresolved anger. Every one of your suppressed emotions seem to make their debut in the heat of the moment, your body slamming down onto his hips as you cry out. Pleasure erupts in your lower core and you shudder around his length, cumming until the girth of his dick is wrapped in a creamy white. He keeps going.

He bends his legs so that he can plant his feet on the bed and thrusts into you aggressively, “You can take it, I know you can.” He grunts, squeezing your hips till they’re sure to bruise later. The force of his thrusts easily have you jostling about in the air, your grip on reality slipping as a familiar coil of heat forms in your stomach again.

“Jay-” You clench down hard on his cock and push against his chest to ground yourself. “I’m cu-cumming again!” The words barely leave your lips before waves of pleasure surge through you. Jay brings a hand down to your heat and toys with your clit, orchestrating the peak of your pleasure so that you can ride it out for longer. 

As your shaking reaches an end, he moves his hand back to your hips and roughly flips you over onto your back. He throws his shirt off and throws it somewhere without a care in the world before continuing. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Keep taking my cock, yeah, just like that.” He says while pistoning into your throbbing cunt. “Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick like this.” 

“I- I can’t, it’s too- too much!” you stutter through each thrust, feeling the bundle of nerves down there light up like a fire. The intensity of his fire makes you squirm underneath him, his lustrous gaze penetrating you. 

His thrusts begin to meet with an equally desperate desire to have him closer to you and you grab at his neck and pull him into a messy kiss. Your fingers trail past the ridges of his dragon scales, armoring him from your desperate claws as he fills you to the hilt. The feeling of his scales has your stomach twist with arousal, the unnatural hardness of his body only fueling your lust. “You- you feel so good, Jay.” You gasp between thrusts. 

He pulls away from you to see his cock disappearing into your pussy, the sight of him buried so deep inside of you making him twitch with desire. “Fuck, I’m close.” Jay grips your tits in his hands as he works towards his orgasm with fervor, incoherent words escaping his lips every few seconds. 

You arch into his touch, feeling on fire from the way he ravishes your body. He pants between thrusts and you move a hand up to his nipples, pinching the delicate bud between your fingers. Your touch pushes him over the edge and his hips stutter to a sudden stop. With one last snap of his pelvis meeting your ass, the most erotic moan leaves his mouth and he shoots his cum into you. The pit in your belly heats up and you drink his moans up like a drug, gasping along with him. He leans over you and drops his head, proof of his efforts meshing with your own sweat.

Exhausted, you pull him back in for a desperate hug, suddenly feeling your heart sting. He flips you onto your side with his member still keeping you connected to him. “You did so good, baby.”

It seems that the release of Jay’s arousal has dampened the fire in your heart and so you cry out, both from pain and pleasure as Jay continues to coo into your ear. “I- I hate what you did to me,” you sob, the intensity of your harboured emotions suddenly rushing out. In an act of desperation and vulnerability, you inch forward to bury your head into the crook of his neck. “You broke me, all of you.”

Jay just listens, soothing you through the caresses on your back and the humming of his voice. His cock softens a bit inside of you and the tip is starting to become overstimulated, but he doesn’t make any effort to pull out. You needed this, you needed his closeness. “I know, baby.” he whispers absently, moving a hand to card his fingers through your hair. 

Maybe it was the crash from your high, but you find yourself shaking in Jay’s hold. The intimacy you craved for so much in that week you were alone, you were finally getting it. You continue to sob into his chest, not minding the trail of tears that started to decorate his sun kissed skin or the snot that unceremoniously rubbed on him. It was like a storm of loneliness was pushing its way to the surface, gripping you from Jay’s embrace. You mind was your own worst enemy, blocking you from the solace that you desperately need. 

“Let it out, Y/n. I’ll be right here to hold you up,” It pained Jay to see you like this. So broken, so shattered. You were usually so confident and walked with an unwavering authority that he had grown to admire, but it was all gone now. The you he used to know was dead and it was all his fault.

Slowly, Jay slides out of you and tongues his cheek when he feels his cum pour out of you and onto his thigh which was slotted between your legs. He needs to clean you up, but the iron grip on his body prevented him from doing so. “Baby, can you let go for just a few minutes?” Your desperate whimper could have been mistaken as a cute refusal to not let him go, like you were wanting to cling onto him like a koala for just a little more, but it wasn’t funny in the slightest. It was dark and embarrassing and it stripped you of your defenses. 

You feared for your life and so you finally let yourself feel Jay’s body on yours. You couldn’t let that go. He was so easily taken from you with just a few manipulative words from someone else, what’s to say he wouldn’t leave again? Anyone could take you, hurt you, the moment he leaves. The cocoon he holds you in feels like your last bit of resolve, the strength of your fire dimming with each passing second. So you clutch onto him even tighter. 

Jay uses every fiber in his being to pry himself off of you, “I’ll be right back, Y/n. I just need to clean you up.” The cold of his absence hits you immediately once he disappears into your bathroom, only the sound of him rummaging around acting as a reminder you weren’t alone. The feeling of his warm skin no longer being held in your fingers suddenly feels foreign and you grasp at the bed sheets as a desperate attempt to replace that pitiful feeling. When he comes back, he has a damp washcloth in his hand. 

“I’m gonna clean you, ok?” His voice is spoken in a soft whisper and he gently pries your legs open. A wet cloth prods at your folds, but it’s warm and you feel your body melt into the sensation. Jay moves meticulously between your legs so as to not aggravate the tissue down there, trying his best to not bother you. It collects both of your guys’ essence and when he finishes, he goes to toss the cloth into your washing machine. Coming back, he plants a delicate kiss on your shoulder and slides back into the bed, pulling you into him. 

“What do I do?” You feel like your insides are ripping apart. Part of you wants to stay mad at them all, to never forgive them. But the other, lonely part of you that’s still stuck in your isolated past, craves their touch. 

“You take it one day at a time, baby. And I’ll be right here the entire time.” He presses his hand to the back of your head and brings his lips down to yours and it’s so delicate you don’t even know if he really kissed you. “I’m so sorry for everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life working for your trust and forgiveness.” 

A stray tear slips from your eyes and he quickly wipes it away with his thumb, “Don’t cry, love. Things are going to be okay.” 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

“I just don’t get how someone so nice could have done something so deceptive?”

“I know, but red roses have black shadows soo.” Jungwon answers, crossing his legs over each other. “He may have seemed perfect on the outside, but he was harboring a multitude of secrets on the inside.” The boy looks at you with a fragile expression, a bittersweet reminder of your attack. His eyes were glossed over as if the memory was still fresh in his mind, and for a second, you wonder if Jungwon blames himself for what happened. You can see the shame on his face, the way his dimples no longer show or the way his eyes no longer shine when he speaks. You wanted to reach out, tell him that everything was okay, but everything was not okay. 

“I’m not glass, Jungwon.” You tell him with a firm voice, pushing yourself up from your couch. The fabric was still stained with remnants of your attack. As much as you rubbed at it with a heavy dose of stain remover, it seemed like the red would never fade away. Unfortunately, the stain remover was only so strong, and so were you. 

Jungwon follows your movement as you move to the kitchen, watching as you occupy your hands with the dirty dishes in your sink which have managed to pile up since you returned to the gym last week. “I know that, Y/n. But we don’t know where K is, he could be waiting for a chance to jump from the shadows and attack you again.”

The subtle reminder of your attack twists the knife K had plunged into your side that night, ripping you open and leaving you bare. You felt so small despite your repeated efforts to appear strong. All your life, you wished for freedom beyond the four walls of your parents’ apartment, and eventually your own. You yearned for freedom, whispering it against every birthday candle you blew out alone. And you had it, until you didn’t. For so long, you desired a sliver of freedom, only for it cost you your safety when it was finally in your hands. Exchanging your freedom for your safety was a cruel bargain that you didn’t know would happen, like it was hidden in the fine print of your metaphorical contract to life. You could never truly exhale until K was found and the world knew who you were. 

K hadn’t been seen since the night that Namjoon had visited. It sat in the back of your mind like an anchor weighing you down from looking up. His absence was like a double-edged sword: a relief that he was gone, yet there was a terrible sense of dread that was left in the wake of his disappearance. Not once could you shake the feeling of being watched, but you kept quiet. Whether it was smart or reckless, you weren’t sure, but you know you’ve been more of a burden than you’d like. The boys didn’t need another reason to glue themselves to your side like a second shadow. 

When you first met with them again after your attack, you weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t see them on their knees with tears stinging their eyes. Sunghoon, ever so guarded and trapping his heart in a layer of ice, was the most devastating of all. He was trembling on his knees, begging, pleading with you to meet his gaze. “Please- please…” he had whispered, his face paler than it normally was. 

And Heeseung, who was usually so composed and well kept, seemed empty. His eyes were no longer that vibrant red you had grown so used to. Now, there was a haze over them that flickered like a dying ember. He couldn’t meet your gaze, but he repented his regrets to you like a mantra. 

Jake was no better, and if he had an actual wolf tail and ears, they would’ve been pressed back with his tail tucked between his legs in shame. He had pushed himself against your leg and looked up at you like a kicked puppy. He murmured sorry over and over again until the weight of his regret tired him out so much he fell asleep at your feet. And you stood there, all two hours of it, looking at him as he slept, subconscious whimpers wracking his body, until you could find it within you to forgive him. 

So maybe yelling at them and cursing them out didn’t end up happening, but you still felt that anger and betrayal deep within you like a scar. But like it had with Jay, your desire for human touch trumped your resolve to stay mad at them. 

Yuqi, Minnie, and Niki had also apologized to you- groveled, really. They confided in you about their remorse and how much your departure weighed on their minds. It was a mess of tears and whispered promises to never leave each other again. 

Since that night, you were never left alone again.

The boys were relentless in their protection, trailing every foot step of yours. Heeseung had even insisted on accompanying you to the washroom at the gym, “just in case” he said as he shrugged off your concerns. And Jake even scented you, committing your scent to memory so that he’d always be able to find you no matter how far you were. Sunghoon was no better, insisting he be the one to walk you to and from the gym like a personal escort. Their protection was bittersweet, filling you with a sense of love and security, but also acting like a metaphorical cage that felt all too familiar. 

And today was no different. While the boys had begun to back off, keeping you in their field of vision rather than following you around, they were still hyper aware of their surroundings. K still hadn’t come back despite two weeks passing since your attack. The boys were expectedly on edge, checking corners and keeping tabs on you like he could pop out of nowhere, and he did. 

A horribly loud crash pierces through the peace of the gym and you flick your head back to see what happened, but you see nothing. Before anyone can even move, the one way door to the gym slams open and a mirage of men in black, tactical gear storm in with guns holstered and riot shields protecting their front line. A smoke bomb is chucked into the air and lands with a blinding fog that quickly surrounds the area. 

“Y/n, get behind me!” Jake shouts above the chaos, sounds suddenly mixing into one big blur as he pushes you behind him. 

The gym erupts into chaos- panicked shouting from all over and bodies moving so fast you can hardly keep up through the haze. In the cloud of smoke, you spot a pair of red eyes- Heeseung- rip past you. Not far behind him, another figure follows after him- Yuqi. 

Her voice booms through the gym, “The government is here!” 

As the smoke finally clears up, you steal your first glance at your group fighting with the soldiers head on. A horrible realization dawns on you right then, you were outnumbered. There’s several dozen soldiers storming into the gym now and for a second, you think this is the end. But then you see your gym members flying past you and putting themselves in direct line of fire. 

Heeseung’s familiar red tendrils move through the air and pick up soldiers left and right before slamming them back into the ground. You hear the disgruntled screams of soldiers being thrown around by his shadows while the owner of the tendrils works through the crowd one by one at supernatural speeds. 

Yuqi mirrors the same ferocity as Heeseung, relentlessly attacking the first few soldiers she comes across. Searing venom shoots off her tongue with deadly precision, burning the eyes of those it lands on. She’s relentless in her attack, her snake-like grip allowing her to throttle the soldier’s throats like an iron vice. 

Sunghoon jumps into action at the same time as Heeseung and Yuqi. He’s quick to coat the area around him in a layer of ice and gracefully advances through his own wave of soldiers, ice blade slicing through their torsos and an ice-forged shield knocking others off their feet. 

In the corner of your eye, Niki and Jay fight side by side. The younger shifts in and out of his kitsune form and pounces from soldier to soldier, alluding them with horrific visions and auditory hallucinations, allowing Jay to use that momentary distraction as a way to burn them all to ashes. 

You’re still with Jake, who is leading you over to the locker room. He’s about to hurry you in, to tell you to stay there until it’s safe to come out, but a piercing scream interrupts him. Your eyes flick towards the sound and you spot Sunoo who has broken the glass of the staff room that hangs over the gym. He sings  his heart out, temporarily paralyzing every soldier.

You use this distraction to escape Jake’s hold, finally free of your own mental captivity. He shouts after you but it’s no use, you’ve already teleported to the front lines in a flash of flames. You flash balls of fire at the men in quick sequence, watching them fall to the ground as they writhe about in agony. Your fire’s not enough to kill them, so you pick them off one by one by forcing their skulls into the ground with your foot, your super strength aiding you in this unique endeavor. As you work through the men, you see Jungwon in the background, working with Minnie to blind soldiers and disarm them of their guns. 

In the midst of all the chaos, you had barely registered the fact that the soldiers were armed. Your heart sinks at the realization, the fact that they had the one thing that could instantly kill you all, dawning your mind like a storm. Despite the supernatural gifts that you all possessed, you knew your bodys’ would not be able to withstand the threat of a bullet. In your own moment of realization, a soldier surges forward and slams the butt of his rifle into your skull. 

Pain rips through your head like an explosion as you hit the ground, your vision going white. Forcing yourself to gather your bearings, you bring a hand up to your head and quickly let your flames seep into your skull, kicking your regenerative abilities into action. You blink through the dissipating pain until finally, your vision comes back- just in time for you to lock eyes with your attacker: K. 

The sight of him has your stomach churning in waves, his twisted smile rekindling the flames of that night. Your breath catches and you feel your throat go on fire as bile rises upwards. You can’t move, your body locking up and freezing over with fear. Despite the shock to your system, you force yourself to call out, to scream as loud as you can, “It’s K!”

In the midst of all the movement, your voice rings through the space and draws every gaze towards you. The boys’ have a look of dread on their face, only onlookers to the sight of you on the ground faced with a domineering K. “Kill her!” K’s voice booms through the chaos, black tendrils rising from behind him like a second pair of arms. 

Yuqi’s world seems to still in that moment. Being the closest member to you, the men she was just attacking divert their attention to you, drawn by K’s voice. In that crucial moment, memories flood Yuqi’s mind and she’s reminded of your abilities and the research she took it upon herself to conduct when she hired you. In that same storm of memories, she also recalls the fierce protection the boys have over you, the way they would break under their own rage if they saw you get hurt. 

A sickening realization settles in Yuqi’s mind. You needed to die. She knew in her heart that you’d survive, make it to live another day, but the others didn’t, and she needed to use that to her advantage. 

So, Yuqi decides to stay still. Jake’s voice cuts through the chaos as he screams to Yuqi, screams at her to do something, but she stays rooted to the spot. Eventually, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and the rest begin to join in, their voices increasingly desperate as they beg Yuqi to save you, too far to make a difference themselves. But she remains unmoving.

In the middle of their desperate shouting, the cluster of soldiers surrounding you increases and K moves in on you. His black tendrils wrap around you like a halo and slowly shroud your vision and intoxicate your air. Then, the first gunshot rings out and your chest explodes with pain.

Taglist: @heesimp, @kyunlov, @quill-ink, @lunaritex, @jiryunn, @jakeswifez, @fancypeacepersona, @nshmrarki, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @wilonevys, @strxwbloody, @capri-cuntz, @riribelle, @machambrx, @vousty, @rebeccakan, @wonnienyang, @koizekomi, @heeweenie, @skyearby, @rxlxvr, @missychief1404, @doveblackboat, @prkhoonielvrss,

Permanent taglist: @kittys00, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @17ericas, @tunafishyfishylike

[robinsgrl]

since im still getting hate through anon over “stealing” a concept that I didn’t know this woman had posted prior to me, im going to clear some things up.

rafesangelita reblogged a post of my comment which was taken completely out of context and not me pioneering “weird!girl”. I was talking about the “fan club” that the commenter was referring to. She commented “weird girl fan club” and I responded with “I am the leader and founder of” meaning, I was the leader and founder of my weird girls FAN CLUB because I adored that character. in high school, all the clubs had a leader and a founder but that doesn’t mean they created the idea of the club, and that’s quite literally what i meant. Think of it like a silly little club in school, it was a joke about a fan club for my specific reader. Granted, it was worded weirdly but that was part of the joke. Like me “completing” the sentence. yes, im name dropping her because quite literally everyone in the fandom knows her and she reblogged a completely inaccurate post AND blocked me before I could even speak up.

now for the woman who is claiming that i stole this concept from her. we dm’d and honestly, she was nice. i have nothing against her as a person. but she was still reblogging stuff that her friends posted about the situation and if it’s been “resolved” then stop reblogging things. anyway, she privately messaged me and admitted that she “blocked me previously to this happening”. i started writing for this fandom the end of november. I posted weird girl reader the first or second week of December. she admitted to blocking me since she saw the post and it blew up pretty quickly so im assuming that she blocked me around the same time that it was posted. i can not stress enough that i had not seen her work. as you can see that was almost a month ago. im not sure on my timeline because literally no one will tell me anything but my first post was nov. 22. it hasn’t been that long since i’ve been in this n fandom

the few works that i DID read were texts posts. everything i read i literally reblogged under my recs. I hadn’t read much farther than that. Now i know there’s no way to prove that but it’s the truth. I didn’t see her posts. I didn’t know who she was. And I didn’t get the time to know who she was because she blocked me.

now, in her long post in that same reblog im talking about, she stresses that you can make weird girl different. that she spent time on her character and I’m sure she did. granted, I didn’t get to read her works because again, I’ve been blocked. but that’s quite literally the point of _!readers. writers have the control. they can base them off of whatever they want and she named those examples. just like she was proud of her reader, i was proud of mine. those things that my reader did in the series were things that i have quite literally done in my real life.

the first part. i did the boob/pec thing to a gym guy that i was seeing back when i was 18. biting someone’s muscled arm was a trend that i saw on tiktok. Of women biting their so’s muscles.

the putting her hands in her boyfriends jeans to warm her cold hands up? i did that before and granted, it was with a girl that i was semi-seeing and not a guy like the original post, but I just flipped the scene. same with the ass slapping and grabbing joke. i do that to my friends. my friends. it’s weird, yes, but that’s why i wrote this weird girl with things i’ve done before because for a long time, i was considered weird. i was bullied in school for being weird, as im sure a lot of people have been.

this reader of mine was me. from the antics she did to the chronically online posts and texts. ive had so many people say that they, themselves have done these things with their significant others as well because tiktok and social media is normalizing not being so serious all the time, that it’s okay to be awkward and weird and goofy with the people you love. And as stated before, i go into writing weird girl reader as someone who’s on the spectrum. I don’t write that she is but as someone who is, those little pieces of me were in the story and im sure many who are can understand that.

she goes on to say that people blow up on her for confronting them. im truly sorry she had that experience but i am not them. she should have come to me as an adult from the beginning. as a grown woman. we both are grown enough to have a civil conversation before name dropping and having people come to my page and say im plagiarizing and copying her when i did not know who she was. because im sorry to say this: you did not inspire me. i did not see your posts. i did not know your account. until this reblogged ask was posted, i did not know you existed. i can not give credit on a concept that i didn’t even know you posted ahead of me. quirky readers like this have been around for longer than your own. i remember reading one direction wattpad stories with quirky/off putting readers when i was a preteen, literally dozen off stories, and back when it was “not being like other girls”. this concept is not new and was not popularized by you. I am not saying that takes away from your work. You have a right to be upset when people steal your own personal work but a concept is a concept. And it’s not one that i stole or got inspiration from you. and i have to reiterate: I am not saying i came up with this on my own. Im not saying this was my idea. But i did not get it from you.

now cameronwillow is defending her friend and i get that. having friends like this is important in hard times but i do believe she and the original sender of the ask, blew this thing out of proportion. im glad you’re there for your friend, truly, a love like that is all anyone can ask for. but you did this the absolute wrong way. read the top to see what i mean. if you still think i copied or stole from your friend and that “credit wasn’t given”, then, you’re gonna keep having a tough time on the internet and in fandoms; tropes and concepts and plots are constantly reused.

now, you posted that i should’ve messaged first. how when she admitted to blocking me when she saw my first weird girl post? you go on to say that “if you’re old enough to be on tumblr then you’re old enough to use your thumbs and message people off anon”. Now, the anon hate is wrong and anyone who is harassing your friend in a harsh way or calling her names, don’t take them as anyone I would support. I wouldn’t support any of them or any of that. If i found out who it was, i would report and block them myself. Hate through anon is wrong no matter what. But wouldn’t that go both ways? You all reblogged and posted things about me while I was blocked before we could have any sort of discussion as adults. (With the exception of dolly because she did unblock me and we had a discussion, although i will say it was too late.)

those are the main few that i think had a lot of hold over the situation. dolly isn’t at fault here. but neither am i. it was a bad situation that was dealt with badly. feelings on all sides are valid but this is the internet, you have to be careful with what you post and how you word yourself. i should have worded myself better on that leader and founder comment and i admit that, it was wrong. but at the least all of these people can and should admit that they blew this entire thing out of proportion.

now, i do want to add that this person gravedigginbbydoll made a completely insane post. in my latin culture, mal de ojo/brujeria/ hexes are a terrifying thing. it’s not something to be messed with in any sort of way. i’ve seen first hand what those things can do to a person. my mother and her long line in mexico rebuke all of this. they fight against it. they cleanse others and us in ways that i wouldn’t even know existed if i wasn’t a part of them. you don’t have to believe in it but i do. I wholeheartedly believe in it. And maybe she didn’t mean me. Maybe she didn’t mean it seriously. But i took it seriously. My family, who im talking with this about is taking it seriously. If youre an avid believer and follower of this stuff, you should know that a post like that to a random girl on the internet, who just wanted to get a better grasp on this abrupt situation, is maniacal and evil. I believe in karma. Karma IS going to come for you over that post and over wishing those things on me (and others).

I had a conversation with her friend under a post where we talk about the hate comments and anon and i agree, neither of us should get this hate. Not at all. And dolly has the right to her feelings. Plagiarism and copying is a real issues in fandoms and in fanfiction writing, one that i have dealt with myself in my past fandoms. But it’s also not insane of me to want to defend myself. I’m not “dragging it” by wanting to defend myself. I’m not “dragging it” by posting this. This is me defending myself and my writing because i am being completely honest— I did not know her work.

sensitive topic below here

Now to those who are defending me and sending me sweet messages, i love you all so much. It means the absolute world to me that you all are willing to hear me out and not jump to conclusions like many people are. And im so grateful for all the love on all my works, not only my weird girl posts. Fearless and Kildare nights were works that i was immensely proud of. Kildare Nights was a way to let out my silly little thoughts. I get attached to character and JJ was one that i was very attached to. The ending of s4 felt like a hole in me and i wanted to fill that. On top of that, a lot of you knew from my authors note that i was in the process of moving. I was lucky enough to find a place with my family in time before being evicted. I was homeless before this. I moved in with my mom because i was literally homeless. I slept in a shelter for a few days before renting a room in a random house with a random lady i met on Facebook. My mom, who I wasn’t talking to at the time, let me move back in with her. But she hadn’t told the landlord. So we were scrambling to find a place. Being homeless is a traumatizing part of life that I never want to go through again. And Kildare Nights is what got me through the nights where I wanted to give up again.

And Fearless was my baby. I’ve been a big girl my entire life. I was bullied for it relentlessly in high school to the point of developing an eating disorder that I still struggle with at 21 years old. I’m getting there slowly and surely but Fearless was for the big girls now and in the past that never felt like they could be loved. For the big girls who struggled to find themselves attractive or sexy or even pretty. To the big girls who have had mean girl experiences regarding their weight and just mean high school girls in general. We are deserving of love and romance and even the heartbreak that comes with all of that.

And im sorry to cut it all short. But this account is tainted by everyone who has name dropped me, who has blocked me, who has sent me hate through anon. By all of it. I may be grown and I should be able to handle these things but truth is im not. I don’t have the confidence nor am I in the correct frame of mind, mental health wise, to be putting up with all of this. I get that im not a child but Im 21 and still figuring things out. drama (because this is drama. despite saying its not.) shouldnt be in spaces that make us feel good, that make us feel empowered and that a lot of us use as an escape. thank you for hearing me out.

[natsmagi]

ok no i need to bitch because i have remained positive and hopeful throughout most of !!-era because i believed that happyele loved their characters and wouldnt deliberately go out of their way to butcher them but time and time again i have been proven wrong on this fact. and seeing the way theyre doubling down on having ibuki, a ryukyuan kid from okinawa, join a traditional "wa" japanese unit that embraces mainland japan traditions when the mainland has continuously tried to make okinawa theirs and disregard the ryukyuan identity WHILE ALSO LITERALLY HAVING EICHI COLONIZE OKINAWA IN ATLANTIS its all just becoming too much. I am no expert when it comes to these topics so do not take my word when it comes to jp culture, conflict and the likes, but knowing how poorly happyele has continuously time and time again treated their indigenous (or middle eastern in adonis's case) cast i cannot see this going well. Not to mention how having ibuki join akatsuki goes against everything the three of them have built up and the whole POINT of their unit and that for them to even fucking put this garbage in the story they had to make keito PAINFULLY ooc to pull it off because NO OTHER REALITY WOULD ALLOW IT!!!!! theyre taking akatsukis developments and throwing it out the window in an attempt to make them something "new" and more profitable while also using a beloved group that so many have spent so much of their time loving and supporting into nothing but a scapegoat for their imperialist propaganda im so unbelievably angry that theyre doubling down on this. im so angry that theyre stupid enough to let shit like this pass

and im sure youve probably read posts explaining the aktk thing better than i ever couldve, esp considering im not an aktkP, but im also writing this to tell the fans of big units to Stop Giving In. do not feel safe just because happyele is scared of losing you, because I used to be an undeadP before getting into switch and the reason i STOPPED producing them was because they viewed the unit as nothing but a money-maker machine and would completely disregard their developments for the sake of feeding into tropes that fans liked and they cared more about yaoibait than they did the characters themselves. They tossed out any growth rei and ritsu had in opperetta for the sake of bringing back sakuma brothers conflict in that painfully annoying la mort story and theyre gonna keep doing this shit until fans tire of it. valkyrie, eden and knights are three super popular units with upcoming events, and i seriously need you to not give happyele any of your time or money because they do not deserve it.

even with switch, a rather unpopular unit, theres been total garbage pulled. in switchs case i think its safe to say that akira does genuinely really care for natsume and tsumugis relationship considering thats basically all that man even includes in his switch stories, but he never really knows what to do with sora. And i feel like he doesnt really care. Like sure i can sit here and be like "well at least MY favs seem to be doing alright" but thats purely because they keep spoon-feeding us crumbs of the units popular ships so we wont complain. i still really like their dynamic and i strongly disagree with alot of fans saying natsume and tsumugi have been OOC lately, but like. Look at sora man. i dont mind him having a little gf in the virtual world, i dont mind him growing more independent, i dont mind him relying less on his synesthesia. but the executions are just. Theyre painful. with the synesthesia thing esp bc synesthesia doesnt just go away. You couldve easily made a simple point of "you cant always rely on your synesthesia to know how people feel" because that is TRUE! but that would de-fetishize this idea these people have of synesthesia being some Magical Ability and not just a neurological condition. And with the sora being more independent; this is also something thats been needed for his story! natsume and tsumugi would often coddle him way too much, and sora himself would complain about being treated as a kid. But like. sora has started to feel so disconnected from switch in a way.....? and this has even been a point of conflict in stories, sora not knowing how to partake in ntmgs conversations because theyre too difficult, or being sad that ntmg never have time to hang out with him. But instead of working on these things, they just. keep having sora hang out with people outside of natsume and tsumugi? who have practically become a package deal at this point?? literally having sora join a NEW UNIT without natsume or tsumugi????????? i dont know. im rambling but i just wanted to get this out there. Theyre my specialest guys in the whole entire world and i just want to make people more cautious of thinking "well the aktk thing wouldnt happen to MY fav unit! they wouldnt butcher MY favs!" because they very much can. even if theres an aspect youre still hooked on, other factors are visibly crumbling because management cares only about what will bring the most revenue, and not what is best for the character

i cant help but feel the reason theyre pulling this shit with akatsuki is because they felt as though they somewhat got away with it with Double Face and raked in some extra cash because kohaku ended up popular, so now theyre doing that again but taking it to the next extreme. its disheartening

anyway. i will continue to draw and enjoy ensemble stars. But i wont be supporting them financially anymore as they clearly do not care about fans at all. if i desperately want some merch ill just buy it second-hand. And while im at it, i need you people to stop telling enstarries to get into some other idol franchise instead as if the main problem here isnt how disgustingly predatory they are. Happy Elements were THE biggest joseimuke franchise, making the most money out of all their competitors, and it still wasnt enough. they still didnt respect their fans. when the fans would continuously respect their wishes. Enstars is like the only fandom ive seen that doesnt share leaks for example, yet this courtesy means nothing to them. Corporations arent your friends, never have been and never will be. those characters arent real, they do not have feelings of their own. They were all written by someone to serve a purpose, and this includes ibuki being an indigenous kid joining the wa japanese culture unit. To use this popularity to spread so much fucking bigotry and hatred is heartbreaking. And to blame the fans for being upset over it????????????? youre disgusting happyele.

[treatbuckywkisses]

this took me WAY too long to read and it's nobody's fault but my own

Fifth upon a time (I'm sad this is not ringy at all)

"She gave you about an hour before the hatch in the floor boards opened, even though for you, it was much longer. She didn’t know that, though. You sat very still, your breath finally silent again. Maybe she didn’t know you were in here." - THAT IS SO SAD WHAT THE FUCK I DID NOT EXPECT SADNESS IMMEDIATELY 

some real life good advice from strange ??? Where am I rn 😲 

SHUT UP HE GOT COFFEE 😭🥹

""You know me, doc," you answer, letting the power crackle again ever so slightly. It’s a thrill, getting to feel it again. "Careful’s basically my middle name."" - LIAR LIAR IM EXCITED SHES PLOTTING SOMETHING 

""What are you doing?" He doesn’t sound annoyed at all; more entertained. You take a step back, assessing, but his face doesn’t betray him whatsoever. " WE'VE BEEN MADE 😭

"Oh, you hate this. " - this interaction feels flirty and I'm ready to start yelling 

STOP BRINGING UP THE FLOOR DAMNIT IT HURTS 

"But you stop talking, because he’s already taking a tentative nip of yor drink, and then he licks his lips. And they curl slightly upwards." - this has me so soft ??? He likes her coffee order I'm so ?????????? UGH ?? HE LIKES HER FUCKING CODFEE BRO

"And then you realize what’s really happening, and the world chokes, like something falling into place." - I am the world and I am choking up .

GOD THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH ITHER AND YALK FO EACH ITHER UOU ARE SO BAD IM SO HSHSKSHAKHS AND YOU FUCKING MSDE THEM HOLD HANDS OHMYHFO ARE YOU JOKING RIGHT NOW 

"You’re going to fix this mess you’ve created, if it’s the last thing you do." - this is slightly worrisome (I'm scared of you)

LITERAL CHILLS for the whole ending sequence my God do you know how to write 😍 you're insane I hate this story 

How do you have me so emotional with some grand idea and some click clacking on a keyboard you have such talent i want to scream forever about

time after time [5]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 10.9k

chapter warnings: nothing except the usual ones; another panic attack near the end; the riveting resolution of the coffee side quest? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: after my week of technical difficulties (got shadowbanned, had a breakdown, bon appétit), this chapter finally made it to tumblr as well. thank you so much to everyone who reached out, it's meant more than you know!! <3 this one starts out fairly harmless and then i threw some punches again and for that i apologise

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

five: carousel

The first mission they took you on was nothing short of a disaster.

It should have been simple, was simple, a quick extraction to get a microchip from this decimated group of criminals operating out of an abandoned toy store that Nat had discovered through one of her contacts. You were only supposed to tag along to get a feeling for being out in the field, an additional pair of eyes just in case things went south.

Did they ever.

Not only was the chip accidentally destroyed, your ensuing panic got you stuck for a good twenty minutes until the world started spinning again. Steve fell down a full flight of stairs when you reappeared out of thin air next to him the moment it did.

Needless to say, you went into hiding as soon as you got back to the Compound.

She gave you about an hour before the hatch in the floor boards opened, even though for you, it was much longer. She didn’t know that, though. You sat very still, your breath finally silent again. Maybe she didn’t know you were in here.

"I know you’re up here, Y/N."

You pulled the cape off your head with a sigh. Natasha grimaced.

"Don’t do that, I’m not talking to a floating head," she said with a shudder. "You know how weird that is?"

You huffed and let her pull the fabric into her lap, watching your own limbs reappear, your arms hugged around your knees. She sat down next to you, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. You watched a spider scatter away from you.

"How did you even find me?" you asked quietly after she made no further attempts to speak to you.

"My sister had a similar hiding spot when we were little." You could hear the smile in her voice as she said it. "And you kicked up quite a bit of dust."

She didn’t elaborate on either of those things and you didn’t ask, even though you wanted to. Anything that could get your mind off what happened.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," you said dryly. "That’s why I’m sitting in the supply closet."

"That’s exactly what I told Steve." Your face fell again, but hers didn’t. "He’s alright. Or he will be, once he forgives me for laughing at him for five minutes."

That didn’t make you feel any better. "I fucked up today," you said softly, your voice still rough.

"You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I did, though. I literally froze as soon as things went wrong, and the chip—"

"Is expendable," Natasha interrupted calmly.

You shook your head. "I only mess everything up for you guys. I’m not a real agent, and my powers just make things worse, and I should just—"

"Do you realize that this thing you were given can be a gift?" You cringed and started turning away, but Natasha reached out for you, a gentle hand on your arm. "I mean it. You think every time you’re unable to use your powers is your personal failure, but you don’t see how every time you are able to use them is precious."

There was a delicate hue to her green eyes, a weariness that was visible even in the dim light of the closet. For the first time, you had the feeling she let you see something she usually wouldn’t.

"Our lives … they’re hard," she went on. "Unpredictable. We live on borrowed time. And you get to have more of it. That’s …" You waited for the words you’d heard before. Invaluable. Instrumental. Priceless. "Beautiful."

You swallowed hard. "Is that why you took me on? For the team?"

Nat looked at you for so long you were almost sure she wasn’t going to answer your question. Then, she said, "I took you on because you needed a reason to get up in the morning."

You stared at her, your nails digging into the palm of your hand until it hurt more than the ache in your chest. Natasha kept looking at you as she continued.

"I lost a lot of people over the years, you know. But never like this. Never this many at once. Something like that …" She trailed off, her eyes wet. "The entire planet was grieving and struggling and blaming us, because at that point hardly anyone understood any of it apart from the fact that the Avengers were involved. And then one day, out of nowhere, a letter materialized on our doorstep, and the security cameras didn’t show a thing." Her grip on your arm tightened, as if she needed to steady herself. "Do you remember what you wrote?"

I’m sorry for your loss.

You’d struggled to put it down for days, because how else could you apologize for something you might have been able to prevent had you only been there instead of hiding? In the end, you’d only added your name and the address of that diner in Brooklyn where you picked up a few shifts after their waitress had been blipped.

You’d gotten a call less than twenty-four hours later.

"You were the first person to say that," Nat continued, because she could see the memories flit across your face as easily as others watched a movie. "And yet, when you got here, you looked as guilty as if you’d personally murdered every single one of the Vanished."

"Well, if I’d been with you—"

"Stop it." For the first time, her voice was sharp. Your mouth fell closed. "We’re all trying to do better, right?"

You could only nod.

"That’s all anybody here is ever going to ask of you. And sometimes 'better' is just getting one hell of a kick in during a mission. Don’t think I didn’t see that."

You smiled ever so slightly. "I have a pretty good teacher."

"Yeah, you do." She shoved your shoulder lightly. "You can’t do more than show up and do your best, honey."

"My best looks like a dead possum next to yours."

"Then stop looking at me." Natasha got up to her feet slowly, patting you on the knee when she did. "Unless it’s for a post mission wind down because I have a movie queued up and I know where Steve hid the cookies."

"Can I have my cape back?"

"Nope." She folded it up with the green side out, letting it hang loosely over her arm. "You’re supposed to use it to hide from your enemies, not your friends."

You didn’t attempt to argue further, warmth rising to your cheeks.

"Nat?" She turned again, halfway down the hatch, caught by the emotion in your voice. "Thank you."

Her smile told you that, as always, she understood.

*****

There simply isn’t a world in which you can do this even one more time. It’s too much.

"You need to sort out your priorities," Sam says, zero sympathy in his voice. Bucky has the audacity to look amused.

"I’m serious," you say, looking between the two of them. "My day is bad enough already. I don’t care where we order, but it’s not going to be Italian unless you want me to puke on your cat."

Over the past couple of weeks, you’ve eaten your way through the entirety of your pizza place’s menu. If you have to smell the rank cheese Sam likes to order one more time, you can’t be held responsible for your actions.

"How about sushi?" Bucky says, and you almost start protesting out of habit before you realize that for once, he’s not arguing your side. You turn to Sam with an expectant grin.

"Fine," he grunts, shaking Alpine off his trouser leg as gently as he can while his nose twitches. "I guess Russian Doll has the right to choose his last meal."

Bucky frowns at him, but you gasp in delight. "Are you finally joining us in dark humor land, Sammy?"

He flips you off wordlessly as he leaves the room and you chuckle to yourself, pulling up the sushi menu on your phone. Alpine starts nibbling on the bandage around your foot that’s stretched out on the couch and you wiggle your toes a bit. It seems to entertain her.

"What," you ask when the staring becomes unbearable.

"Nothing."

When you lift your gaze to meet Bucky’s, his jaw is clenched again, his eyes fixed on you with a distant expression in them. You tilt your head, and he lowers his.

"So what’s the plan?"

You send your part of the order to FRIDAY and put your phone to the side. "I have to get back to Strange to figure out how to stop this loop from happening again."

You’ve almost felt sorry to see your series of library heists break, even though you have no reason to feel his way. This is progress. Strange’s offer to help has been genuine enough so far, even though you hate paying him in answers.

Now that he’s not deliberately keeping you out anymore, getting to the astral plane has been a lot easier, at least, even though emptying your mind enough to cross over without a prior emotional breakdown has still proven somewhat difficult. Weirdly, it’s easiest on the couch.

Bucky nods shortly. "And what do I do?"

"Whatever you want."

He scoffs. "Right."

It makes your insides twist. "Bucky, as much as I hope that today is the last time we’re doing this, I can’t guarantee it. So you should just, I don’t know, enjoy yourself." You cringe even as you say it.

"I wanna come see Strange."

You blink, watching him clench and unclench his fists slowly, deliberating. The golden parts of his arm gleam in the sunlight. "Why?"

His voice, when he speaks, sounds haunted. "I can’t just sit around and do nothing."

Something in his voice sticks with you as you lie down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You’re not even sure if what he’s asking is possible.

"No, it’s not," Strange says bluntly. "Not as long as you’re in the loop."

"Why not?"

"Stop asking questions and focus."

With a roll of your eyes, you raise up your arms again. So far, you’ve spent most of your so-called lessons trying to make sense of the cryptic texts Strange makes you read and then summarize like you’re in fifth grade. If you’re not doing that, you’re talking him through the events of your July 4th, or explaining your powers to the best of your abilities, going through the motions and habits you’ve taught yourself over the years. It all feels like you’re revealing something very personal for someone else to judge.

You don’t care much for any of it.

"Again."

"Is this supposed to teach me something new?" you ask, turning your thumb and first two fingers upwards again while your other hand balls into a fist by your side.Threads of sunlight glittering like spun gold. You take a breath and shake your head.

"Do you feel anything?"

Annoyance. You bite your tongue and reach out, carefully, like you would to a scared animal, searching for that old familiar feeling.

It takes a while.

Dim, at first, but clearly there, vibrating deep in your veins, hesitantly stumbling towards your hands like it was suprised, too, to be called upon again. Softly glowing embers slowly filling the void you’ve grown so hopelessly accustomed to.

You open your eyes to find the tiniest green spark dancing across your fingertips and almost laugh in relief.

"Interesting," Strange says.

You flick your fingers softly, once, twice, letting the spec of power grow until it’s the size of a pinhead, cradling it softly with your other hand as if to protect it from a gust of wind. Slowly, bit by bit, it settles back into your skin, and you feel it tingling all the way up to your ears.

Strange contemplates you for a long moment. "When did you get that cut?" he finally asks.

At this point, you should be used to his unfazedness. "Yesterday," you say, the 'obviously' clinging to every syllable. Riff was putting up a better fight than usual; or maybe you’re getting sloppy again.

Strange moves his right hand in that circular motion you’ve seen him do before, and the air in front of you cracks. It’s weird to see your own slightly translucent reflection suspended in the middle of your room. The gash on your cheek has barely had the chance to scab. You subconsciously reach for your necklace again.

"Look at the wound, and hold your hands like this."

You try and mimic Strange’s gesture. "I feel ridiculous." Like a mime. Or a really bad stage magician.

"Good," he says. "Now focus your powers, and follow my lead."

You watch Strange move his shaky hands out of the corner of your eye while trying to concentrate on that little spec of power you’ve felt earlier. Slowly, itchingly, the wound starts knitting itself together, as if it’s been healing for days. The skin smoothes over as if nothing had ever happened.

A rush of excitement goes through you at the sight, and there’s a stutter. With a flash of pain, the cut tears up again and you flinch, your hands falling.

"Fuck."

"I told you to focus."

"Well, if only saying it made it happen," you snap, then try again. This time, you let go of your power more carefully, almost coaxing it down. The gash doesn’t heal completely, but at least it looks better than what you started with. Strange watches you closely, brow furrowed deeply in thought.

"Let’s try something different," he says, and with another flick of his wrist, the mirror vanishes again. "Sit down."

You bristle at the command, but obey. A sidelong glance confirms that your sleeping body’s cut on the cheek has somewhat improved as well. There seems to be something connecting the two of you after all.

"When is this here, anyway?" you ask.

Once again, he doesn’t give you an answer. With another quick movement he grabs something through a small portal and throws it at you without any regard to your reflexes. You grab it off the bed incredulously.

"That’s … a meditation CD."

"Congratulations," Strange says. "You can read."

"You’re not serious."

"Deadly." He unfastens his cloak, which flies over to drape itself over the reading chair like a blanket, and then joins you on the floor, crossing his legs as well. It’s bizarrely casual. "If you don’t learn to focus," he continues, "there’s no moving forward from this point."

You huff, holding the CD out for him to take back. He doesn’t. "I’ve tried meditation," you say impatiently. "It doesn’t work for me. My mind—it doesn’t work for me."

"Your mind what?"

"It’s too loud."

You put the CD on the ground with a little too much force, moving to twist your rings around again, but they’re still absent. Your nails dig into your skin, instead.

"Did you know I don’t really forget stuff? Did I tell you that?" You laugh humorlessly, because what else can you do. "Fun side effect of the traveling back and forth through time. I always know where I’ve been and what I’ve done, and what everyone else has done while I was there. All that information is in my head, all the time, and I can’t get rid of it."

"All the more reason to have it quiet down every once in a while," Strange says calmly.

You want to strangle him.

"Believe me, I’d love nothing more, but I can’t. It’s not like I’m a computer and you can do the whole 'Hello, this is IT, have you tried turning it off and on again?' It doesn’t work like that."

"You do know a lot about how things don’t work."

"Welcome to my world," you mutter, flexing your fingers and crossing your arms before you draw blood.

Strange sighs. "Your mind isn’t a hard drive. No matter what your powers entail, your brain is still human. And it needs to rest every once in a while."

For some reason, in the middle of this whole crazy situation, that thought settles. Maybe it’s because it’s possibly the first genuinely kind sentiment he’s shown you so far. Maybe you’re just tired of pushing.

"How?" It’s more a croak than a question.

"Just stay like that and breathe." You look at him incredulously and he raises an eyebrow. "What? No one said you have to think nothing. It’s fine if you just sit there with your thoughts."

There’s a short pause. "That sounds terrifying," you admit quietly.

Strange considers you for a long moment, as if he’s contemplating what to say, until he finally admits, "I know."

***

You blink awake slowly this time, as if gradually awakening from a deep sleep. The TV is on again, quietly chattering in the background, and a weight on your legs tells you that Alpine has found a new spot again.

A glance at your phone shows that surprisingly little time has passed. When you sit up, the white cat on top of you complaining loudly, you can see Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, laptop closed, talking to Sarah on the phone.

The fact that you’re not alone quite yet is weirdly comforting.

In a moment of sleepy contentment, you reach out to scratch Alpine under the chin like you’ve seen Bucky do countless times. Curiously, she lets you without immediately extending her claws. At least for a moment.

"You’re awake."

Immediately, Alpine loses interest in you and jumps onto the backrest of the couch to nestle her head into Bucky’s palm. You roll your eyes.

"Keen observation, sarge."

He slowly peels his gloves off, not quite looking at you. "What did he say?"

Right. There was that.

"Nothing, to be honest," you say, folding up the throw blanket Sam must have put over you while you were sleeping. "Apart from the fact that he really can’t actually do as much as one would think."

"Can’t, or doesn’t want to?"

You shrug. "Same difference."

Despite everything, somehow you feel inclined to believe that there really isn’t a way to get Bucky to the astral plane, though. After all, things haven’t been normal ever since this loop began; and since you’re the only one who can lift it, maybe that also means you’re the only one who can do things like that.

You can only hope that at some point, something—anything—you do is going to stick.

Bucky studies your face, but doesn’t tell you whatever is still clearly gnawing at him. You don’t know why for a moment, you thought he would.

It reminds you of something you haven’t asked in a while.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

His mouth opens, but he doesn’t speak immediately. "Like what?"

"It’s just …" You struggle with the words, as if your mind is still half-asleep. "In some of the loops, it was kind of …" You trail off when you notice he’s holding something in his other hand. "Did you go get coffee again?"

Bucky clears his throat. "Yeah. I thought since you didn’t get one earlier, ya know …"

You’ve stopped getting caffeinated drinks for yourself in the mornings to make it easier to get to that voidlike state you need to be in to enter the astral plane. It’s been making you rather irritable; though, truth be told, that might also be due to Strange’s charming personality.

"That’s nice," you say, reaching for the paper cup with your name on it, taking a sniff before tasting it carefully. It’s perfect. "I should change my habits," you say lightly, "if Lucy knows my order even if I don’t pick it up myself."

"Who’s Lucy?" Bucky says, sitting down on the couch next to you.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "The pretty one on register? Stars and stripes on her cheeks?" He hums noncommittantly and you decide it’s not worth the effort. "What did you get?" you ask with a nod to the second cup.

"Just … coffee."

You squint to read the sticker, but he puts his fingers over it in a motion so smooth it almost hides its defensiveness. There’s the slightest hint of a grin on his face as you scowl, trying to catch his sleeve to get him to twist the writing back in your direction. Your thumb grazes cool metal and you still. Bucky does, too.

"Did she actually give you her number?"

Your laugh comes out through your nose, somehow, as if it’s not much more than a breath. The expression on Bucky’s face doesn’t quite fit his widening grin, or the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks, but you couldn’t say why.

"So?" he says. Alpine stares at you accusingly, settling in his lap once more.

"Nothing!" It comes out quickly. "I’m not surprised. I mean, she thinks you’re hot."

His eyebrow quirks. "Does she, now?"

You take a gulp of coffee so large it makes your eyes water. "Her shift’s probably over by now. You should call her."

"Why," Bucky says wryly.

"To take her out." Should you be weirded out by the fact that this is happening as soon as Bucky entered the store without you? You tug at the ring on your pinkie.

"Why do you want me to take her out if I’m gonna die later?" Bucky asks.

"Well, it might take your edge off for one."

"And why does my edge concern you?"

"Have you met yourself?" You shrug, your ears drumming. "Besides, it might be fun."

He doesn’t look at you as he takes a sip from his own coffee, as if still determined not to let you see his reaction. "You have a strange definition of fun."

Alpine yawns as if to agree. You stand up abruptly, suddenly nauseated from drinking too fast.

"I’m just gonna …"

Again, you don’t finish your sentence, and Bucky doesn’t stop you from grabbing your takeout containers and taking them with you to your room, where you stare at the toilet for a good minute, waiting for the queasiness to pass. Your meet your own gaze in the mirror.

The cut on your face looks better than it did a few hours ago.

You walk back into your bedroom and take a critical look at your bookcase.The Wind in the Willows is back in its place where it belongs. What isn’t there is the CD Strange finally managed to force upon you.

The rules of this multiverse crap are going to give you another migraine on top of your current one.

You sit down on the floor next to your window to eat, but your cheek keeps itching until you notice yourself tapping your chopsticks against the plastic container so hard soy sauce is splashing everywhere. With a displeased twitch of your mouth, you reach for your phone.

It rings for a very long time and you realize it’s already past midnight in Seoul when finally, there’s a voice on the other end.

"This better be good, agent Y/L/N."

Her voice is quiet, tired, and you press the phone to your ear even harder. "Can I ask you a hypothetical question?"

Doctor Helen Cho sighs deeply on the other end of the line, and you can almost picture her leaning back in her ergonomic office chair. "Alright."

You toy with the edges of the building scab on your cheek. "Is it possible for someone to go through physical changes and … not go through them at the same time?"

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. "Are you asking me if Schrödinger’s cat is real or not?"

A living being that simultaneously is and isn’t dead? That’s a paradox you have an answer for.

The problem, as always, is you.

"Sort of. I don’t know." You bite your lip.

"You realize quantum mechanics is not exactly my specialty, right?" Even while she says that, you can hear the clicking of her keyboard. "You are talking about a body, I presume. A human one?"

"Mhm."

"And the changes?"

You think of the cut and the writing and Bucky’s blood on your sheets. And your changed clothes. "They’re only to the body itself. Everything around stays the same. Pretty much like Schrödinger’s cat, I guess. Nothing about the box changes." Ever.

There’s another pause before Helen speaks again.

"Look, as far as I know—and with all these new and upcoming aliens and superheroes and so on that have been appearing over the past couple of years that’s less and less, mind you—but as far as I know, humans can only be in one state at one particular time. There’s ways to accelerate healing processes or even meddle with the body in other ways, but it’s still an either–or scenario."

"So, it’s impossible?" you ask, biting your cheek.

"It’s improbable, based on what I understand." Time has definitely started to bleed into itself, then. Great. "But like I said, that’s not really my area of expertise," she continues. "Speaking of, though, I got an e-mail from your new captain earlier."

"You did?" you ask, surprised. Sam hasn’t said anything to you, not today or any other iteration of it.

"You can tell him I’m hearing the same things he has," Helen says. "My lab wasn’t approached, but I have a colleague at a partner institution who left for Madripoor a couple of weeks ago."

You’ve barely thought about ULTIMATUM and their experiments since you laid everything out for Sam and Bucky earlier this morning. Another wave of guilt flashes through you.

"I’ll tell him," you say tonelessly. "Thanks, Helen."

"In this hypothetical of yours," Helen says before you can hang up. "Who’s the observing party?"

You watch the green symbols circle around your wrist, once, twice, three times. "I’m not sure yet."

You stare at them for a while longer after the call disconnects.

"There’s nothing to observe when the flow of time is reduced to a single day," Strange says when you relay the question to him the next day, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"So there would be, usually?" you ask, eyes narrowing as you try to channel the flow of your powers into the palm of your hand, like he’s told you.

"It’s not a perfect comparison," he answers. "The cat is only dead or not because time passes. Time is only our way of perceiving space dimensionally."

"Time and relative dimension in space," you hum with a light smile. Your palm starts tingling. "But if it’s not that, either, then … I still feel like there has to be something I’m missing here."

Every single review of the mission fills in another piece of the puzzle, the map of the lab you draw on the whiteboard growing more and more detailed each day, but still, it’s never enough. You miss the way Steve would draw out detailed building plans and escape routes before any mission, such ease to the stroke of his pen; your own talent for drawing is borderline abysmal by comparison.

The green shimmer around your hand dissipates again. Strange groans, fingers massaging his temple like he, too, is getting a headache from this stupid realm. His cloak wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"What you’re missing," he says through gritted teeth, "is the point of this exercise."

"Enlighten me," you snap back.

You watch him take a deep breath before he answers. "Do you, or do you not realize that this isn’t all about you?"

You huff. "If you say something like this is the universe imparting a message upon me, I got that point. The message is that I suck at what I’m doing."

"If that’s the message, then how come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?"

The anger and remorse that wash over you make your power flare up like a bolt of electricity, your fingertips and the dark of your eyes flashing an eery shade of green. You can feel the little hairs in the back of your neck stand up. Strange only looks at you, his expression unexpectedly somber.

"At least he doesn’t remember," you say tonelessly.

Strange smiles, but there’s no joy in it. "Indeed," he says.

The rush ebbs off, bit by bit, and you blink to get rid of the last of the strange double vision you sometimes get when time stutters again.

"You keep telling a man he will die today because you think that’s best for him," Strange goes on. "Better than him getting to choose his own path. Have you ever paid attention to how he spends his last precious hours once he knows?"

Of course you have. Sitting around in the Tower, going over mission plans again and again. Getting coffee. Lurking in doorways, leaning against walls, thinking, talking, looking.

It’s all time spent with you, and Sam, and Alpine.

It’s weird that you shouldn’t have realized this fact when in the beginning, you kept wondering about the time he came back to the Tower. Because before you’ve started telling him, Bucky always left.

Maybe that’s what you’re missing.

"Careful," Strange says, noticing your change in expression.

"You know me, doc," you answer, letting the power crackle again ever so slightly. It’s a thrill, getting to feel it again. "Careful’s basically my middle name."

***

"Doesn’t matter," Bucky says when you ask him what he’d be up to if you hadn’t told him about the loop.

"Oh no, leave me out of this. That’s his thing," Sam says when you ask him about the whole thing, and he so clearly knows what it is and yet refuses to tell you.

"None of your business," Bucky says when you press the matter, his jaw clenched tightly, and you hate to do this, but you don’t exactly have limitless options here. Besides, it’s the first new idea you’ve had in a while, which means there’s an almost moral obligation for you to go through with it. And still.

This feels wrong, you think when Sam comes to knock at your door and you throw on your gym clothes, pulling the sweatband over your wrist tightly.

This feels wrong, you think when you climb into the ring as if nothing had ever happened, as if this was just a normal day. Your side is still a little sore, but you’re able to play it off as a scratch with ease. How would he know to call you out on it?

This feels wrong, you think when you close your eyes as you lie on the mat and wait. You promised.

"You look like shit."

Your head turns like muscle memory. "Hey."

"Hi." Bucky’s eyebrow raises at your silence, but you’re not sure if the words aren’t just going to come bursting out of you. You have a tell. "You alright?"

Your grin tastes just a little bitter. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Right." He doesn’t quite believe you, of course, but it’s fine. You can do this.

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling and try to recall the very first July 4th, the version of you that you were. She resists you slipping her back on, but you take another deep breath, just like you’ve been practicing. A chuckle slips free.

"Fuck you, Barnes."

Your heart is still beating fast in your chest, but he must chalk it off to the training, because you can hear him huff. "There she is."

You close your eyes with a petulant sigh, just in case he can see your conscience written all over them. Again, you remind yourself that you tried asking him, that you tried everything else, that this is the only option you can think of right now.

"You’re horrible." It’s more like talking to yourself out loud, but of course Bucky doesn’t know that. And the sad truth is, he’s used to your temper.

"Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one."

You give an affirmative hum, waiting until you hear the door close behind him. Then, you rush to the showers, wasting no time to get ready and dressed again.

Bucky walks out the door of the Tower at precisely 09:43, a fact you know thanks to the time stamps on the security footage from the lobby you had FRIDAY pull up early on in the loop. This leaves you with a pretty small window of time to clean up, add another line to the tally on your thigh, and get back to your room to grab your stuff without making what you’re doing to obvious to either him or Sam. You have FRIDAY call up the elevator with barely a minute to spare, going down to the second floor and quickly heading towards the stairs. Behind you, the elevator dings once.

You basically sprint downstairs, readjusting your backpack. You almost barrel into the fire door, peering through the window into the lobby after another glance at your watch. Only a few seconds later, you can see Bucky walk across the entrance hall, the usual resting scowl on his face as he looks around once and then ducks out the side door.

You tug the cap you found at the back of your closet deeper into your face and start after him.

This feels wrong, and it’s a terrible idea, you can’t help but think as you watch him head down Lex, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. His strides are long, but unhurried, and even though you know he’s the furthest thing from vulnerable, the fact that you’re seeing him unguarded like this doesn’t sit right with you. Nevertheless, you continue.

You expect him to head for the subway, but instead, he turns left after the Chrysler Building, going east. With a slightly confused frown, you briefly join a group of clearly lost tourists to cross the street and follow him back up Third Avenue. At least there’s just enough people around to make it easy enough for you to hide in a crowd, you suppose.

You’re going to follow him, and find out what he’s up to, and then you’re going to see if and how it all connects to this stupid loop.

Easy as that.

It’s about an hour and a half later when you seriously start cursing Bucky’s name. Inexplicably, he’s still just walking around the streets of Manhattan like a fucking peasant. Your clothes are sticking to your body in ways you don’t care to describe, and you’re sick of having to pretend to be interested in shitty Independance Day memorabilia and battered paperbacks on sale while trying to avoid eye contact with the people trying to sell them to you.

You’re also pretty sure you’re walking around in circles.

Letting your head fall into your neck, you blink up into the bright sunlight from underneath the shade of your cap. As always, there is not a single cloud in sight, a perfect Friday in July. It’s making your eyes burn.

You glance back at Bucky, who has continued walking after taking a look at his phone, and sigh. All of this would be so much easier with your powers.

"What on earth are you up to," you mumble to yourself as you watch him take another left.

You count to ten before rounding the corner as well—and then you yelp when you almost slam into Bucky’s chest.

"What are you doing?" He doesn’t sound annoyed at all; more entertained. You take a step back, assessing, but his face doesn’t betray him whatsoever.

"Going on a walk," you try cautiously.

"Yeah, right." He tilts his head, features despicably neutral. "Why are you following me?"

"I’m not?" He stares at you, and you groan. "Fine. I just wanted to see where you’re going?"

"Why?" There’s an edge to his voice that you can’t quite make sense of, but your thoughts tumble right over it, scrambling for an excuse and coming up empty. The glint in his eye is distracting.

"Because …" Because you don’t know what else to do at this point. "I don’t know, I was just curious."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "That’s a lot of dedication when you could’ve just asked."

You look at him doubtfully. "So you’d have told me?" you say, already knowing the answer.

"No." He puts his hands back into his pockets and turns around, leaving you standing there staring at his back.

"Well, there you go then," you shout and start to follow along again. You take the stupid hat off with a sigh and stuff it into the backpack, wiping sweat off your forehead. "How long did you know I was there?"

Bucky shrugs. "About when I got outside."

"Seriously." He stares at you over his shoulder. "Seriously?!"

"You came down the stairs," he says, shaking his head. "And in a Yankees cap."

"So?"

"Don’t tell me you suddenly like baseball."

"I might like baseball," you mumble. "It’s a very fine … ball sport."

He snorts. "Sure ya do. I’ll remind you next time the game’s on."

"Circling back," you quickly change the subject, "why the fuck did you make me chase you halfway across Midtown if you knew I was there anyway?"

"It was funny." The shit-eating grin spreading on his face surprises you so much you stumble over your own feet. His arm extends to stop your fall if necessary, as if on instinct. "You know," he continues, "I thought you’d lost me on Times Square. Almost asked one of those guys in costume to help you out."

You slap his hand away. "You’re the worst, Barnes."

"And you’re a shit spy, time powers or not." The smile changes, but stays. Somehow, you’re glad.

Your fingers twitch inside your own pockets, your thumbs tracing along your rings. "So," you say, suppressing the nervous chuckle. "Where are we actually going?"

"Don’t know yet." Bucky turns his head to look out for cars before he continues walking. It takes you a second to match his pace again.

"What do you mean, you don’t know."

"Well, I had to cancel my plans because I got an amateur stalker on my heels."

"Wow." You squint at him and the blinding sunshine behind his head. "And you’re calling me stubborn."

"To your face? I would never."

Oh, you hate this.

"So we’re actually just walking around town for the hell of it." And you’ve done all of this for nothing.

"Yup."

The realization that you wasted yet another day by thinking you could be sneaky around Bucky almost takes you down a spiral, and you don’t even notice he’s still talking to you until he ducks his head to catch your eye. "Huh?"

"I said I’ll buy you a coffee. Think you might need it." He pauses. "That is, if you wanna."

"I could always go for coffee," you say, and it’s true. First, though, you should tell him. Rip the band-aid off and get it over with. "Listen, I—"

But then he looks at you, his eyes impossibly blue in the sunshine, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t have to deal with that damn preciousness in them, because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and so he just looks at you like he has a thousand times before, the normalcy of it like a breath of fresh air after his eyes have dragged you under again and again.

How come you’re not the one who’s really getting knocked around every single day?

Maybe it’d really be a kindness to spare him the news, just once. It’s still so early.

"What?" Bucky asks when the silence stretches.

You think of the ever unchanging Tower and the neverending pizza delivery and the fact that you hate this. You hate lying to him. You do it anyway.

Just once.

"I thought of something, but it doesn’t matter now," you say. "We have time."

***

"Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?"

You pretend not to hear him, shuffling the straws around in their container until they look a bit more orderly. Even though you’re not working, even though this isn’t even your store, it’s hard to shake the need to feel useful. Particularly if you’re trying to ignore Bucky’s gaze burning into your neck.

You’re saved by your name being called out because your coffee is ready. For some reason, you half-expect him to swoop in front of you and take the drinks himself, but of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

With a shake of your head, you rid yourself of the ridiculous thought and hand Bucky his coffee without looking at him.

"You know," you say, stepping out of the crowded Starbucks into the sunshine. "I have a blanket somewhere in here." You point at your backpack. "We could try to fight for a spot in the park."

There’s a pause, and then Bucky sighs. "What else do you have in there, anyway?"

"Spy stuff."

You don’t expect him to find that funny, but he snorts slightly. Then, like a habit he can’t break, his gaze falls on your hands again.

"I’m just tired," you say wearily before he presses the matter.

"You should try the floor," Bucky says. "If you can’t sleep."

It helps, sometimes. "I’ll keep that in mind."

You take a sip of your coffee and scrunch your nose when you realize it isn’t what you ordered for yourself; it’s what you ordered for him. In your haste to change the topic earlier, you must have switched the cups.

"Sorry," you say, "this is actually—"

But you stop talking, because he’s already taking a tentative nip of yor drink, and then he licks his lips. And they curl slightly upwards.

He blinks a few times, as if he’s as surprised as you are, and tries again, less hesitantly this time. Then he looks at the writing on the cup. "Wait," he says, frowning, "I think you’ve got mine."

Your mouth closes, then opens again. "How do you know?" you finally say. "They both have my name on them."

"Yeah, but you always get the same thing," Bucky says, as if him knowing your order couldn’t possibly be news to you.

"It’s fine," you say when he tries to hand you your cup back. "Maybe I should try something different sometimes."

Bryant Park is already bustling with people, and it’s just about noon. The little green tables are all occupied by chess players and chatting families, the carousel horses manned with happily shrieking children.

Still, you find a place to spread out your blanket near the edge of the lawn, almost within talking distance of the Public Library’s security guard, who is currently on his first smoke break. You demonstratively sit down with your back to him. If ever a man took his job too seriously.

"Aren’t you hot in that?" you ask doubtfully when Bucky uncomfortably sits down opposite you, the collar of his leather jacket pushing up.

"'Course I am," he answers, not elaborating.

You let your eye roam through the park. "Terrible news," you say dryly. "Not a single person is looking at you, Sergeant Cool."

Bucky shakes his head, not looking at you.

"No one cares," you say, more sincerely this time. "Even if they did, they’re not gonna say anything. And they’ll have forgotten about you tomorrow."

He huffs again. "And you’re wonderin’ why I call you stubborn."

"I thought you didn’t do that to my face?"

He pulls his gloves off, throwing them on the blanket between you with his eyebrow raised. "Happy?"

In the bright sun, his left hand is gleaming, the inlets reflecting the light in a way that makes it dance across the cotton like swirls of pure gold. You smile and lean back, closing your eyes.

You don’t come to this park often, even though it’s not far from the Tower at all and it’s easier than returning to Central Park with all the memories it holds and that have turned more bitter than sweet after everything. It’s the same as with the library, you suppose. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re missing something until you find yourself in the middle of it.

It might have been a Saturday, you think, the last time you were here. What a concept; Saturday. You sit with the thought for a while, and then you let it drift away, just like you’ve been practicing.

It’s such an unexpected feeling, to get to experience this moment of quiet reprieve when lately, most of your time in this loop has been spent studying, or training, or fighting. You already know you’re getting another talking-to if you don’t return to the astral plane at all today; but it’s just the one day. Surely, you can be allowed one day.

Your brain craves it more than anything.

When you open your eyes again, Bucky is contemplating your backpack with a frown so oddly different than the one you’ve gotten used to in previous loops. He seems so … It takes you a while to come up with the right word, because somehow, it makes you think of Alpine, and that doesn’t make any sense at all. Comfortable. He seems comfortable.

His shoulders are relaxed, his jaw unclenched, and even though he’s still wearing the jacket, his eyes aren’t flitting around to assess everyone within sight. His head tilts slightly.

"Are you trying to see through it?" you say, and the dryness tastes wrong on your tongue.

Bucky nudges the backpack with his foot. "Just wonderin’ what you thought you were gonna be up to."

"I like to come prepared."

"Since when?"

Well, ever since resetting has kind of stopped being an option whatsoever. "This isn’t gonna turn into one of your 'constant vigilance' talks, is it, Moody?" you say lightly.

He looks at you again, and you’re not really sure if that’s better or worse. "You’re deflecting, doll."

"Well, what do I know!" you say. It’s worse, definitely worse, but you don’t know why. "You might have been off on a covert mission or visiting a secret girlfriend or buying a beehive to put on the roof or—"

He unzips the backpack. "So you brought a blanket, a baseball cap, binoculars and a banana?"

You try to bite your tongue, but it’s impossible. "I was kind of set on the bee scenario."

Bucky laughs.

Genuinely laughs. His nose scrunches up, his eyes creasing and his head thrown back a little, shaking with a quiet and almost childish glee as you blink at the unusual sight. It’s over almost as suddenly as it began, but … still. A warmth spreads from your chest to your cheeks as you watch him, your own smile almost hesitant by comparison.

Joy looks good on him.

It leaves a twinkle in his eye even as the laughter subsides, like specs of sunlight.

"What?" he says, his mouth still twitching.

"You seem happy." And it’s astonishing.

Bucky shakes his head slightly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s blushing. "No need to sound so shocked about it."

"You sure?" you ask, your voice cracking only a little. "I feel like I need to call an ambulance."

"Shut up."

"Or Area 51. I think you might’ve been swapped with an alien doppelganger." You sit up properly. "Tell me something only the real Bucky would know. Oh, wait. He wouldn’t have told me, either."

"You are the most dramatic person I know, you know that?"

"You’re one to talk, Sergeant I Need Nobody’s Help, I Will Jump Out Of  A Plane Without A Parachute."

"So many rank drops today."

"Now who’s deflecting?"

"I take calculated risks."

Except he doesn’t even know his calculator is broken.

Bucky stares at you. "What’s that even supposed to mean?"

You didn’t mean to say it out loud. Not today. Your fingers twitch automatically to take it back, but of course, nothing happens. Nothing apart from his attention being brought back to your black rings.

"What did you do?"

The concern in his voice is quiet, but it’s there nevertheless, and it makes your heart ache, long desperately for it to go away, to be replaced by the joy that was there mere seconds ago. You want to make this day stop, make the world stop so you can continue living in that ease of just sitting here and laughing together without thinking about anything else.

And then you realize what’s really happening, and the world chokes, like something falling into place.

For a moment, you can’t breathe as you look at him, whole and confused and missing parts he can’t even remember leaving with you, and you feel as though your heart might stop because the only thought running through your head is Please, not now. Not now. Not now. Every single beat is an echoing no inside your mind.

You are so fucked up, you think, but you can’t find it in you to stop looking at his face, nearly flinching as you shove the feeling all the way down, down, down, until you can feel it like a brick in your stomach. It’s nauseating, like the vertigo you get at the very top of a roller coaster just before the car drops into freefall.

"Y/N?"

"I don’t know," you say tonelessly. He must have noticed your face change, he must have. So why doesn’t the frown deepen?

"Liar." Your heart is still pounding so loud he must hear it, even over the racket of children screaming in delight and cars blowing their horns in the distance.

Concern, you think again. Exact same thing that you see mirrored on Bucky’s face right now. You're concerned for your friend.

Roommate, really.

Colleague.

Guy you sometimes work with, professionally.

Exactly. That’s it. That has to be it.

You’re in deep enough shit already.

He’s still waiting for you to say something and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, the buzzing in your head getting louder, and the only thing you can think to say is, once again, "I’m sorry."

Before Bucky can answer, his phone rings, and there’s the flicker of annoyance you’ve been waiting for.

"Hold that thought," he says. "Sam?"

Your heart sinks as Bucky presses his phone to his ear, reality catching up with you again. You try to rearrange your features into a neutrally curious expression when he glances back at you, but you’re probably failing horribly.

"No, I’m good, I didn’t end up going.Yeah. Alright."

You clear your throat as he hangs up. "So. Sam’s about to give his big speech then?"

Bucky looks bemused. "I’d hope not. That was hours ago."

"What?"

Confused, you look at your watch. Then you look at Bucky’s watch. Then you look at your phone.

Even though you can’t have been sitting here for more than thirty minutes, every clock you look at tells you it’s past 4 p.m. Confused, you twist your rings around your fingers, one by one, but they’re as pitch black as ever, and yet somehow …

"Should we go?" you ask, your voice just a little pitchy.

Bucky gazes at you for a very long moment, and then gets up to his feet and holds out his hand to pull you up. He still hasn’t put his gloves back on.

You take it.

"You’re really off today," he remarks and you hum noncommittantly as you fold the blanket back up and unceremoniously stuff it into the backpack. He shoulders it himself before you can grab it. "You’re just gonna complain again," he says, even though the Tower isn’t that far.

You don’t say anything, though, just trudging behind him without a glance back.

Probably because of the time of day, 42nd street is packed. You watch Bucky pass through the crowd with his head downcast and his hands back in his pockets. If it’s been a struggle not to get separated from him earlier this morning, it’s near impossible now.

He looks over his shoulder when, for the third time, several people have pushed between the two of you, and you shrug helplessly as you try to catch up to him. Again, you can’t help but think this would be so much easier with your powers working the way they’re supposed to; just stopping everyone else for a second while you move past them.

"Sorry," you mumble when you reach him waiting for you at a crossing. All of a sudden, you feel how tired you’ve been for a while.

"Wanna just go home?" Bucky asks.

"That’d be nice," you say, cringing at the thought of having to change immediately once you get back. Sam is probably already impatient.

Bucky’s mouth twitches. "Don’t make this a thing."

And then he takes your hand again and links his fingers with yours as if he’s done it a thousand times before. The light changes to green, but you don’t move, and Bucky softly tugs to get your attention. His hand is solid and warm in yours, and it does nothing to ease the feelings of unease and contentment that mingle in your stomach with his touch.

Neither does the fact that as soon as the crowd disperses and you slowly, reluctantly let go of his hand, he steps out into the street with his head half-turned to you and—well.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and it’s like the air is getting knocked out of your lungs.

After that, the days start to blur.

***

"Why would it have anything to do with the mission?" Strange asks, and you can’t decide whether he sounds condescending or genuinely confused.

"Because it’s never happened before then, maybe?" you say, throwing up your arms. "I don’t know!"

"The loop is tied to you, not the other way around. If Sergeant Barnes has only ever died during the mission before today, the only other variable in that equation is you."

His cloak curls at the seams in a way that’s almost apologetic. What a stupid thing to say about a piece of magical fabric, you think.

"Great," you huff, sitting down on the ground and crossing your arms in order to not shake violently. "So first time’s skipping and now if I spend time with him, he’s just gonna die earlier?"

There’s a pause as Strange frowns. "Show me your wrist."

You press your lips together tightly and hold out the arm with the swirling green symbols. Strange examines it with a particularly grim expression.

"Just say it," you mutter when it becomes unbearable.

"Time is a precious thread in the fabric of the universe," he says, dropping your hand. His silver eyes are very serious. "You don’t get an endless supply of it."

"I literally do," you reply, flourishing your wrist demonstratively. "That’s the whole problem."

"No." Strange shakes his head. "Your reality is going to collapse if time can’t move on from where it’s stuck. Not today, not tomorrow, but it will happen."

You stare at him with wide eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means, no more distractions. Things are detereorating more quickly than I’d hoped." He sighs, and there’s something about his demeanor that lets real fear course through your bones for the first time in a while.

"Okay," you say, swallowing it down. "Let’s do some overtime, then."

"I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Look at her."

You glance at your sleeping body, stirring in her sleep.

"You asked when this is," Strange continues. "That’s the thing with this version of the astral plane. It’s unstable. It only exists between dreaming and waking, and so our time here is very limited. You are then, and now. Past and present and future all folded into each other and wrapped into one. The nature of time doesn’t like this."

"So, what?" You laugh humorlessly. "I go through an endless day, and then reality crumbles anyway?"

"Do you understand now why it’s so important that you get a grip on your powers?"

Because you’re the one who created the loop, and therefore the only person who can untangle it again.

"So no pressure then," you say tonelessly.

"All of the pressure, I’m afraid," Strange says grimly. "There’s really no time to waste anymore."

***

"When we live such fragile lives, it’s the best way we survive. I go around a time or two, just to waste my time with you."

Your head has started pounding to the beat of the song and Sam’s fist at your door, but you keep staring at the ceiling, unmoving. It all just starts over.

Even this godawful song.

"Tell me all that you’ve thrown away. Find out games you don’t wanna play."

You must admit, the universe has a certain sense of cruel humor. Not that that’s any news. It doesn’t fucking matter what you do any of these days, because the outcome stays the exact same, and there’s a moment each and every time where Bucky knows that, too. Only by then, it’s too late.

"Geez, I hate you."

You’re so tired.

"I know, Buck."

Fade to black. Back in with a blast and the sun in your face, FRIDAY blasting The—

"I’m coming in," Sam finally shouts from the other side of the door. "You better not be naked!"

You hear him enter, but you still don’t move. You’re busy replaying that look on Bucky’s face in your mind of the exact moment it goes wrong. It looks so pale, his mouth twitching downwards, a bit like with his coffee, but much more devastating.

Black out. Rewind. His eyes are on you, not even on the white jacket shooting him.

Black out. Rewind. The fingers on his metal hand grasp so tightly around your wrist you feel something move underneath your skin.

"What is going on with—Y/N!" You feel Sam rushing to your bedside in three long strides.

Right. You’re still covered in blood.

You can’t look away from his eyes until the last second. Black out. Rewind.

"FRIDAY, turn this shit off. Call an ambulance."

"Calling 911."

The sudden silence slams you back into the present with a start. "Cancel call," you say loudly, your voice only slightly shaking. "I’m fine, Sam."

"You don’t look fine!" He helps you sit up, looking you up and down, a sense of urgency still vibrating in his every movement, but of course, you’re not bleeding. "You look like you just shot a man and then rolled over."

"You’re not wrong," is all you get out before you start crying.

Black out. Rewind. God, you’re pathetic.

You shrink back from his arms, cradling your wrist to your chest. It’s starting to swell.

And yet, the green symbols swirl.

You’re not sure why you’re reacting like this now, after … you’re not sure. It’s not like this is your first time. Does that make you an even worse person? Probably.

Sam is talking to you, you recognize his voice, but you can’t focus on the words. You’re desperate to find something to focus your attention on, like you’ve been trying, training, grasping to do, but you’ve got nothing. Just numbness, a gaping nothingness, and the scars to prove you’re not just stuck in a nightmare but this is in fact your reality, and you are the only thing that remains while everything else resets in an endless cycle of hell, over and over and over again.

Nothing stays.

And you can’t help but feel like you’re running out of time, anyway.

This is ridiculous, you know that. You know you’re worrying Sam out of his mind, that you just need to focus, damnit, take a breath, stop crying, anything. Your incompetence to do any of these simple tasks is like another slap to the face.

Time passes, and doesn’t pass; it doesn’t matter at all whether you’re there for a minute or six hours, it’s all the same to you.

Through the fog of it all, Bucky’s voice is like your lighthouse.

And you despise yourself for it, even as you reach out for him.

"Hey," he says quietly, his hands rubbing circles into your back until he slowly, carefully pulls you out of your head back to earth. "It’s alright. Everything’s okay."

He says it over and over and over again until you nod slowly. It’s a pretty lie, after all.

"What happened to your wrist?"

You know what you have to do, but that concerned undertone makes it so hard. You’re still not used to it, but you want to be. Fuck, you want … No.

It doesn’t matter.

"I need to tell you something," you whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. "One more time. And then … Then that’s it."

You have to do this. Have to close yourself off emotionally. Distance yourself from Bucky in order to stay rational about this situation and find your way out. Treat this like you’re not involved at all; like this is just another puzzle for you to solve, and nothing else.

It’s the only way.

You’re going to fix this mess you’ve created, if it’s the last thing you do.

*****

"If we die here tonight, I’m blaming you," you told Steve through chattering teeth, and he laughed at you. If you hadn’t still felt bad about his bruises—no matter that they’d already healed completely again—you might have kicked him in the shin.

You’d reached the point of wanting to kick Captain America on a concerningly regular basis.

This time, though, you felt completely within your rights, because you’d been training hard all week, and thanks to New York being just about the most disgustingly freezing place on the planet if they asked you, you really didn’t see the point of driving into the city to a random ice rink. Particularly not on an evening in early January when it was already dark outside.

"You’ll be warmed up in no time," Steve said and waved at Nat, who was already waiting for the two of you, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up so the red roots of her hair stayed hidden.

"Couldn’t we have done this at the lake?" you asked, looking around wearily. The crowd was substantial.

"Sure," Nat said and put an arm around you. "Do you have about fifty friends we can invite so we can properly train your powers around other people?"

You grimaced. "There are children everywhere."

"Oh, yeah. Some of them went home early, but most opted to stay when I told them Steve would drop by."

You groaned. Of course they were Natasha’s Blip orphans; they had the same mischievous shimmer in their tired eyes. "Thanks for that, Nat."

"You’re so welcome," she answered, patting your shoulder. You narrowed your eyes when her coat shifted to the side.

"Is that my hoodie?" you said.

She looked down as if she hadn’t noticed what she was wearing at all. "Yeah, I think so."

"I was looking for that everywhere earlier!"

Natasha merely shrugged. "It’s your own fault for leaving your stuff in the dryer for anyone to take."

"Don’t pay attention to it, she does it to all of us," Steve said, putting an arm around her.

"That is not true."

"It is. You’re like a clothes hoarding dragon."

"Did you just call me a dragon?"

You didn’t listen to the rest of their bickering, because your eyes had started to water, and not because of the cold. It’d been a long time since you’ve felt this warmth inside, this feeling of belonging, of, well … family. It made your powers pulsate through your veins soothingly.

Still, the worry came back when they gave you a helmet and knee pads to wear.

"I’m a travesty on skates, but it’s not this bad," you told Natasha again when you shakily followed her to the rink entrance.

"We’re here to train, not to have fun," she said, taking your hands. Of course, she moved like a dancer even on the ice. "Well, both," she amended when you looked unconvinced. "Oh, don’t look at me like that, it was Steve’s idea."

"Then why is he sitting over there doing nothing?"

"He’s got the day off." She pulled you to the side of the rink. "Here’s what we’re gonna do," she said, pointing to the far end. "I’m going to close my eyes and you’re going to guide me straight through the middle to the other side."

You stared at her. "You’re insane."

Natasha ignored you. "One straight line, you tell me when to dodge someone. We’ll go slow."

"I don’t know how many times I can jump."

"It’s not exactly a life or death situation, Y/N. I can survive a few bruises and so can the kids."

"I’d rather not injure a child if you don’t mind," you say, trying not to sound hysterical.

"And I’m confident that you won’t. Do you trust me on this?"

You met Nat’s calm gaze and took a breath, even though the knot in your stomach tightened. "Fine."

"Such a vote of confidence," she snorted. "Just watch what they’re doing, and keep it in mind. Think of it like a dance recital. It’s all just a sequence of steps in a specific order."

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. Natasha closed her eyes. "Ready?" you asked.

She smiled. "I love this song."

You could barely hear the music over the thrum of adrenaline, but you supposed that was her way of saying yes. This’ll be the day that I die.

You pushed forward.

chapter six

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[lesbianherald]

my hatemail for you is that coming home is too fucking good and im having a hard time finding other jayvik fics that hit like it hit >:( im too new here to have already found my "The Javik Fic" dammit!!!! (p.s. have a good new year <3)

heeheheheeh thank you stuff like this means so much !

but also maybe i can HELPPP

there are some incredible fics out there that deserve so much love and recognition so here's a list of some of my absolute faves!

to swim through the fires – to stay in this world by theroyalsavage (M)

literally adore the character writing in this one and the tone. i found myself relating to and enjoying the style so much.

wound care (E) by Sinister_Queer

call me a child of divorce but I really struggle with fics where they're divorced, but this one is so with it. such an incredible, well-thought-out world and love that is so tangible between them.

advanced particle physics (the laws of attraction may apply) (E) by Sinister_Queer

fuck i didn't realize these were written by the same person until I did this list holy shit I want to give this person a kidney. I'm very picky about modern AUs probably because I had to think about my own so much. but this is just. so so good. The Jayce in this is EXQUISITE!!!

Love was the Law (E) by ruinthatboy

she's the most popular girl in school and I don't care because I'm still going to be singing her praises. incredible fic.

i read the signs (E) by vavavavoom

this is fucking phenomenal. i'd say its more vikjayce because we have defender jayce and machine herald vik, though its also set in an alternate reality from league. it has just, delicious epistolary elements. such good relationship building. it's so hard in a situation like theirs to believe they're fall in love but the author really. makes. you. believe it.

heavy crown (E) by vavavavoom

another absolute banger from this author. i love reading from an author that characterizes differently than you, but still so goddamn WELL. I feel the longing and tension in this and how that wars with duty. it's so marvelous.

hearts in halves (E) by vavavoom

i really struggle with mythology adaptations because they're deceptively hard to pull off but this author did it so damn well. The UGHHH!!!. THE PINING !!! THE WANT !!! AHHH!!!! I literally do not understand how it has not gotten more attention.

the blessing of all that you dreamed (M) by nightlilly

such an interesting one where the set up is similar to their lab dynamic in season 1 but viktor happens to be a really cool original fantasy being who can show people their deepest desires, which obviously gives then-oblivious jayce a crisis. so so good?

let's talk about chemistry cause I'm dying to melt through to the heart of {his} molecules (M) by the_RiftWalker

the love between them is so palpable in this one. they just feel so real. i relate to viktor a lot in this one - just really exquisite work.

inside the starshine by sepiacigarettes (E)

short and sweet and sexy with 👏PINING 👏LOVESTRUCK👏VIKTOR👏

Started out with a Kiss (T) by CasperCryptid

if you need to smile read this. its an adorable very silly drabble that somehow still manages to pack in some signature jayvik longing.

Perfect (M) by TheTrickyOwl

one of my first Jayvik fics i ever read from the one and only and oh my god. the raw emotion in this is so sweet.

Nothing Left to Lose (M) by TheTrickyOwl

same emotions as in perfect but in a devastatingly depressing context. is so so worth the read. so stunning and just brought up so many feelings.

tell me when my hunting days are done (E) by dualwelding

Dark and depressing Vampirism where the change Jayce makes to viktor after he almost dies is turning him into a vampire with insatiable bloodlust. it's such a gut punch and its sexy and I love it!

And finally...

I really hesitated to put anything of my own in this list because these authors are so damn good but I do have two others other than coming home (but not to you). I actually am more proud of here at the end so I wanted to throw it at people against their will.

Here at the End of All Things (M)

Follows old Man AU Mage Viktor's decades of solitude and the aftermath of his meeting with Jayce

In the After (E)

wrote this right after season 2 as a way to cope. was high on these new meds that weren't working the whole time so uhh. i can't attest to this one. she's my stepchild. but I have an inherent affection for her due to the time I wrote it. - follows what might happen after Jayce and Viktor vanished.

[uncannydevotion]

Can you do toby, hoodie, and masky being instructed to kill their s/o by slender? Would they actually go through with it?

a/n: picture me rubbing my hands together evilly upon reading this request okay. this is so so so short but i felt like it would drag on if i made it any longer im sorry </3 but i hope you enjoy it!! thanks for the request, i love angst <3

warnings: major character death in tobys part!! murder, attempted murder, blood, descriptive death, memory loss, overall everyone has a bad time, but hoodie is like... vibing. also not proofread im incapable of rereading things i write.

MASKY

It's certainly not an order he intends on following, but he's well aware that he's susceptible to Slender's influence, so he's not quiet sure how to avoid it.

The only one of the three to actually try and negotiate with Slender. You weren't a threat to anyone, let alone it. He didn't understand why the being was hellbent on getting him to kill you, especially since it knew that he loved you.

And that's just the reason.

He loved you, so you were a distraction. You were a weakness, and Slender doesn't take well to its proxies having weaknesses.

But it was a reasonable being. For Masky, at least. The man was logical, so they saw eye to eye a fair amount of times. He had yet to go against any of his other orders, so Slender was willing to negotiate.

Its terms? Masky would have to cut all contact with you and your memory of him would have to be taken so to ensure you wouldn't try finding him. And in exchange, you would get to keep your life.

Now, obviously, he didn't want that. Masky loved you, so why would he ever want to part ways with you? Almost as if to show him what would happen if he didn't accept its terms, Slender caused the man to black out, and when he came to...

He was in your bedroom, standing over your bed as you slept, a gun pointing at you. His finger was on the trigger, and he quickly dropped the gun before anything could happen.

The thought of you dying, the reality of living in a world without you in it, was enough to make him agree to Slender's terms. Masky disappeared from your life, and your memory of him went with.

Though he remembered you. A sick form of punishment, perhaps, for falling in love. He remembered everything about you.

HOODIE

Hoodie is, out of the three, the one most likely here to blatantly disobey Slender without fear of consequence. Though Slender is technically his boss, he's not the type to blindly follow orders unless they make sense to him.

No amount of punishment has been able to break him, but he's too valuable of a proxy for Slender to rid of him.

When the order first comes to his mind, he almost laughs from the sheer absurdity of it.

He does not care what reason the entity might have for wanting you dead. Hoodie loved you, so he would not kill you. And should Slender try getting one of the other proxies to try and kill you, Hoodie is not against harming them.

His loyalties lie with you, first and foremost.

You are one of the very few things in his life that brings him joy, there's just literally no way in hell he'll let anything take that away from him. Not even his evil eldritch boss can force him away from you.

And unlike Masky, he won't distance himself from you. He's... pretty selfish, to be honest. His very presence puts you in harms way, and you might have people actively trying to murder you from now on but don't worry!!

He'll keep you safe, trust him.

TICCI TOBY

The only one here who will actually kill you. He doesn't want to, believe me. Toby will actively go out of his way to try and defy Slender like Hoodie, even, but he is the entity's most loyal proxy, so it's a short battle.

Toby's loyalty to the faceless being runs deeper than anything else, even his love for you. If Slender wants him to kill someone, then he will.

But he doesn't kill you willingly, if that makes you feel any better. Toby ignores the order for as long as he can, until Slender runs out of patience. And when it does, it will hound Toby with endless static and agonizing pain, punishment for disobeying its orders.

It will break Toby down, and once it's sure that Toby can't disobey it again, Slender will demand he kill you. And this time, in a mindless haze, Toby does it.

Maybe he thinks he's killing someone else, your screams and cries falling upon deaf ears as he slams his hatchets into you over and over again under you could no longer be recognized, your blood staining his clothes and skin.

Toby won't remember you. You were a weakness that had to be purged, so Slender ensured that every memory he had of you was repressed. But even so, there's this aching feeling in his chest. As if he was missing something important, something he can't quite place.

He mourns you, and yet he can't even remember you. He just feels... anguish, for some reason.

[sircantus]

I love writing this shit is great i keep switching between writer mode and reader mode like “ok ok- keep this thought in- make a passing mention about his expression…how do i- yes! That dialogue now hits perfectly. Time to read over and see how it flows” and then immediately im like “HBBBBBSHB THEYRE THEY ☹️☹️☹️😭😭😭😭 THEM!!!! WAHHHH” and then back to “ok so keeping in mind that character’s thought from two paragraphs ago, i should add this action-“

[pooplyface1423]

Through Dusk and Dawn

"Through dusk and dawn" means throughout the entire night, from the time it starts getting dark (dusk) until the first light of day appears (dawn), essentially encompassing the whole nighttime

Shadow x reader (platonic)

Warnings : none other than Shadow already has a tiny soft spot for reader

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One of your worst nightmares coming to life was not what you planned for this year.

Losing the people u cared for the most was awful.

Never thought it would've come to this you thought

You were nowhere to be seen during the guardianship stuff always hiding in the bathroom to wipe tears of sorrow and guilt people might ask why you feel guilt but the thing is you had nothing to do with it you just feel like you should of done something but didn't you blamed yourself for it.

Once Tom and Maddie got full guardianship over you they finally got to take you home with them.The drive from the foster care centre and to there home was wierd Tom having lost his brother (ur dad) was hard on him but they always had this promise to each other that if something went wrong that the other would care for their family and Tom wanted to keep that promise and make it true.

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*Car stops*

You got to were you would call home

Tom and Maddie help you w ur 2 bags while u carried ur main bag w all ur most personal things

Once the door opened sonic and tails were the first to try to greet you

“Oooooh hiii you must be y/n! Nice to meet you!” Said sonic with a warm smile

“Sonic she can't hear you…” said Maddie

“Oh let me speak louder my bad HI IM SO-” I mean she's deaf sonic she can read lips but she can't hear anything”says Maddie

“Oh I'm Sorry”

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Maddie an Tom help u set up in the room you'd stay in

As you entered you saw a beautiful room decorated with a small vase of flowers and a candle in a nightstand next to it you saw two small beds in one of them was a small black and red hedgehog sitting down reading a book

Feeling interrupted shadow wanted to say something

“I'm sorry shadow but quickly we wanted you to meet y/n she's my niece and she will share a room with you for a while until we find a way to set everything up” says Tom looking at shadow hoping for a small “okay” or a head nod

Shadow nods his head and continues reading

After putting ur things away Tom writes on a sticky note

“Wanna have pizza for dinner?”

You wrote back

“Ok sure” just wanting to be left to your own thoughts

Tom could feel that you were probably not in the mood for anything so he waved goodbye and left

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Now being alone (w only shadow being there) you finally felt the wave of grief hit you like a stack of bricks a few silent tears slipped down your cheeks onto ur knees as you hugged them tighter hoping everything was a bad dream even if you knew it wasnt….

Shadow took notice of this since he could hear what you thought were silent sobs were actually not that silent but quite enough he could hear.

Jumping of his bed he thought he should see what's wrong since he did overhear Tom and Maddie talk about why you were coming to sonic tail and knuckles. He slowly climbed up into you bed and tapped ur hand gaining ur attention

“Are you okay” he said, feeling a small shock as he was reminded of Maria as soon as he saw our tear filled eyes.

You read his lips and nodded your head in a no motion

Shadow felt a small crack in his heart seeing you like this,as it reminded him so much of his sweet maria.he said something gaining no response and thought maybe u wanted to be left alone as he was about to go back to his bed you held onto his hand patting the side next to you signalling him to sit next to you

You quickly grabbed a notepad u had in you bag and wrote

I'm sorry if u said anything but I can't hear you

“It's okay, do you wanna write about why ur crying?” he wrote back

Not right now can you just stay with me for a bit?

You wrote back waiting for a reply

Shadow slowly nodded, feeling a small wave of happiness in his heart being able to be wanted was not new but it was a feeling he's almost forgotten about since the last time he felt it was with her..

as he say back next to you layer down motioning him to do the same

As you both layer in your bed in comfortable silence he noticed you seemed less tense as you did when u got here.after a while he poked his head up to she if you doing okay only to see you in deep sleep. Feeling like his job was done he thought he should head back to his bed but he felt like his heart was telling him to stay feeling as if he left you would disappear.

Around 20 minutes after shadow Slowly felt his eyes starting to feel heavy he wanted falling asleep next to you but before anything happened he snapped back as he heard someone approaching quickly teleporting back into his bed

As the door opened he looked up from the open book seeing tails and knuckles acting nonchalant he looked at them with a speak or get out face

Seeing that tails spoke up

“Maddie wanted us to let you and y/n know that the pizza is almost here and to come to the table” he said sheepishly

“Well be there in a bit”he said as tails and knuckles left the room

Shadow walked over to your bed and slowly shook you awake

He quickly wrote on the notepad “pizza I here let's go eat” as you woke up.

You quickly nodded as you were hungry quickly, getting up and following him to the kitchen

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Finished!

Thanks for reading!

I lwk LOVE how this turned out hope you guys like it too<3

Taglist

@bluefang1 @fawnsies @sabakarp @z3zabytez @ellaprime7 @buddee @star-maker-rain-dancer @generousdiamond

[frownyalfred]

Just reread Borderline (what a fic) and started reading Bloodletting and I just need you to know how much I adore your Jason. He is so delightfully sure of himself. (I love whenever you make him geek out over guns too lol) And I’m equally obsessed with his dynamic with Bruce. They just have so much respect for each other.

(and him and Dick too aaaahh they balance each other and love each other so much) anyway im obsessed

Thank you so much! I love writing Jason that way, it's not that I can't write him hurt or angry or bitter and not getting along with Bruce, and more so that I just don't enjoy it and it's my fic, so who cares. I love it when he gets along with Dick and Bruce in a way he doesn't quite with the others. I like when he's unexpectedly competent and sure of his place next to them, yeah. Whether that's him and Dick balancing out Bruce in borderline, or him being the Ven'alor to Bruce in bloodletting, I just love that version of him...you're right, it's about respect. And realizing that while trauma can change so much about a person, it doesn't mean it's the end of your life. It is a defining moment in his life, yes, but it is not all of it. And he deserves to grow up and realize that.

[myjjongie]

౨ৎ to my beloved ── p. jongseong ⟢ teaser

SYNOPSIS . . . Moon Yn daughter of a notorious Duke who is said to be one of the Emperor's most loyal aides is married off to Archduke Park Jay. Their marriage soon became the talk of the country. Everyone adored the joining of Yn, daughter of Duke Moon and the Emperor's eldest son Jay. Two people the Emperor cherished very deeply. Unaware of Duke Moon's true intentions, he desired the throne the Emperor sat on. Using his own daughter as a means of infiltration he marries her off to Jay. Yn being shackled down to her father listened to everything he told her to do. Eventually when the day came for the overthrowing of the Emperor's throne Yn dies before ever knowing who truly won in the end.

OR

IN WHICH . . . Yn is sent back in time to before she married Jay, before her father started preparations to overthrow the Emperor, before everything was lost. Finally having a second chance to save the people most dear to her. Yn won't let her father control her as he pleases this time. For Yn will make her own decisions despite the unforeseeable future. With this second chance she'll marry Jay with the intentions of helping him without the control of her father. ⌇WORD COUNT . . . 382 ⌇

.ᐟ PAIRING . . . archduke!jay x archduchess fem!reader

.ᐟ GENRES . . . oneshot histrorical au, time travel trope, enemies to lovers (if you squint your eyes hard enough), magic/magical beings are a thing, contract marriage, she fell first he fell harder, angst, yn was a villainess in her past life (???)

.ᐟ WARNINGS . . . yn unalives herself (in the beginning), family abuse (all from the father), heavy descriptions of certain topics, detailed scenes with physical touch

.ᐟ STARRING . . . enhypen (all members) ive (liz) nct (chenle + mark) aespa (giselle) + possible mentions of other idols

•

꒰ evie's note : so i cooked up this snippet an hour or so ago. posting this fic teaser to test the waters in a way cause i only have a smau being posted at the moment. i've also been itching to write write something and it's been a hot minute since i've gotten my creative brain juices flowing as well. back into reading manhwas again so if this reminds you of any of those, yes. and yes it's about jay again IM SORRY i miss my pookie bear angel can yall blame me :( also if i finish this within a timely manner i wanna have it out before the end of next week tbh. really hoping i'm able to do this fic justice for yall. but alas enjoy the tiny bit of what my brain cooked up. ꒱

taglist ( open! send a ask/comment to be added ) . . . @shinkenprincess-oh

perm. taglist ( open! send a ask/comment to be added ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek

YN POV .

My eyes blink open to see the view of an all too familiar ceiling above myself. It was the same cream colored ceiling that belonged in my bedroom in the manor at the Moon duchy. Slowly sitting up my eyes scanned my surroundings. It was exactly as I had remembered the room, the sitting area for when guests were over. The windowsill where I had often read books to pass time through the day. The tall walls decorated with intricate designs only a Duke could afford for a singular room. Thing was the last time I had been in this room was before I left for the Park duchy. When I left to get married to Duke Jay. My mind was a mess of memories as it all dawned on me.

I remembered the blazing fire as I ran through the trees in the forest next to the Park duchy. I could recall the stinging pain as the branches scratched and tore at the skin of my arms. Then the feeling of my legs numbing as I sprinted in the heavy dress that was tailored for a archduchess to wear. My head ached as everything came back to me. Remembering the sound of the knights corning me in the forest, shouting how I needed to go with them. Jay wanted me alive, but I knew it was all a lie. My father had started a coup d’état, he always craved for the higher power in the aristocracy. Being granted a duke title while not being related to the royal family simply wasn’t enough for him. So he sought out higher power, the throne of the Emperor. Jay was one of the Emperor’s sons, there was a feeling in me. Jay wouldn’t stand for his wife being the daughter of the man who wanted to take his father’s throne as well as his life. If the knights captured me to take me to Jay he for sure would have killed me with his own hands. With no other choice I took my life. In hopes that there would be one last thing I had control over before I died. It was laughable at how in the end I only had control over how I got to die and who got to kill me.

©myjjongie 2025

[saioratral]

PARING: yuuta okkotsu x f!reader

PROMPT: stories- not a reality SYNOPSIS: giving my readers a reality check of who they are following

WARNING: insecurities and the biggest warning, me NOTE: i make a pretty good plot, netflix should be knocking on my door. wrote this to fuel my favourite emotion: depression <33 genuinely dont give two fucks if anyone reads this. i dont need comfort messages/asks or the 'don't say that about yourself ☹️' bullshit- im not asking for that + it's not gonna change how i see myself

the room didn’t even feel like a room to anyone who stepped inside. clothes messily placed on her chair, but she didn’t mind. her gaze was locked on the computer screen, her fingers moving across the keyboard as though they knew the layout better than her textbooks

she typed again, her imaginary life with yuuta. the little cottage by the river, ducks swimming by- according to her notes. her fictional self is her favourite self. she loves writing about her muse, yuuta being her escape from her heavy thoughts 

but behind the screen, she was just a mess. she covers her insecurities with flattering words. how could she be pretty when the world only saw the mess of her real self? her online persona was a carefully constructed lie, a shield to keep others from seeing the truth. after all, why should she look ugly to them? she didn’t want to scare anyone away

little miss perfect, pretending to be smart for others. that’s all she’s good at anyways, people would remember her at least, use her and not discard her when they got bored. "grow a spine," they told her every day. but she didn’t. she carried no opinions, just a deep need to fit in

what she wanted, more than anything, was to be loved. to have friends, to be someone’s favorite girl, like the main character of a shoujo anime

she imagines herself in yuuta's arms, feeling his comfort, his imaginary embrace making her feel wanted. together, they watch the sunset from the window, the soft glow of the fading light making life seem perfect. next, they’re in the kitchen, she sits on the counter while yuuta mixes batter for her favorite cake. he let her taste it, but only if she kissed him in return

the scene shifts. now, they were in a fancy, high rise building for dinner. she’s wearing a pink dress, hair tied up with a matching ribbon. she’s so pretty in his eyes, the candle light dinner gets better and better and soon they are on their way home. yuuta’s jacket draped over her shoulders as they walked beneath the streetlights, stumbling upon an empty playground

she sits on the swings, pushing herself back and forth, a wide grin on her face. yuuta sits on the swing beside her, holding her heels in his hand as he watches her joy. he really does love her smile, she looks so beautiful in his heart eyes- of course she would be. she’s the writer. it was her world. she decides what happened next

call her a pick me, call her lazy, call her ungrateful, call her selfish, call her ugly, call her boring, call her cringe, make fun of her taste- she’s just a girl sitting in her room, writing silly fics about her yuuta for a mere 2 digit following of strangers 

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest