#other asks until tomorrow lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitterrfruit · 3 months ago

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kerosene

ghost x f!reader. 17k words. cw: noncon. kidnapping. gun violence. free use. smut. mentions of involuntary groinal responses lol. simon is a smug asshole and reader is into it you get robbed at gun point while working the lone register at a nowhere petrol station. the money in the till is not the only thing he takes with him. or [read on ao3]

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, so they say.

The devil should have been busy with you, then. Malignant boredom had taken root in you, rankled in every crevice and swell, metastasized like knobbly tumours that parasitised on your will to live until only the gritty alluvium was left.

You began your shift behind the till at the Gulf station in the late afternoon, shy of four p.m., as you had done yesterday and as you would tomorrow. You took over from Mitchell, who worked the morning shift, the old man with a wiry grey beard and eyebrow hairs like corkscrews sticking haywire out of his forehead. You’d work until midnight, when you would be replaced by Charlie, a pinguid twenty-something with legs like beanpoles and eyes so sunken they were hollow as caves in his skull.

They had been your co-workers for the better part of three years, yet they might as well have been strangers to you. The scant exchanges you would share with them were a few words at shift change, if that. Mitch would prattle on about some rude geezer and tell the same story about his ex-wife that he had every other week. Charlie, bedecked in his cheap headphones and carrying an egg sandwich cling-wrapped by his grandmother, would only give you a nod and ask been busy? with little attention paid to your answer.

You had been offered the morning shift when you first started.

The owner of the franchise station, Dave, was uneasy about the prospect of a ripe (his word) young woman working alone behind the register after dark, at a nowhere white-pole station in the sticks, where the only customers were long-haulers and on-the-way-home farmers. A just concern, you supposed, and a part of you had considered taking him up on his offer.

You refused, in the end.

Told him that someone like Mitch (frail, near-blind, on the cusp of Alzheimer’s) would far more likely be victimised by the ilk of patrons that trudged through the station. In your experience, anyway, most of the late-night customers that came through the push-door understood the implication of a burly old man being served by a young woman on her own. They’d tread more carefully, offer you kind smiles, sometimes mention their wives to make sure you understood they were not a threat to you.

There was always the odd lecher, though. Goes without saying.

The kinds of yellow-toothed men that would lean too far over the counter, talk to you like they knew you, overly familiar. The type to ask you to smile for them, or for a discount, or for your number. Ones that would joke about coming back, just to visit you. That would say you’re too pretty to be working in a dump like this, you should be in a bar instead. Maybe on a pole. Maybe in the passenger seat of their truck, to keep them company.

It never frightened you, really, because nothing ever happened. You stuck with the late shift because it offered the fanciful possibility that something interesting might come to pass. Maybe, if you were lucky, there would be a car wreck outside the station, or a patron threatening enough to justify hitting the panic button, or a fire set off by the fuel pump and you’d finally be able to put the ten-year-old extinguisher to use.

But you were confident that every shift would be the same, as always.

Nothing would happen, you would drive home to your shoddy seventies cottage in the pit-stop hamlet of Dunhill, eat a frozen pastry, sleep alone, and do it all over again. Days came and went like empty boxes on a trundling conveyor belt, your life a deserted factory, only still whirring because the last attendant forgot to switch off the machinery when they left.

Today was no different.

You perused the grocery shelves with cheap earbuds stuffed in your ears, the kind with squishy mushroom plugs that made it sound like you were underwater. Shuffling through the same playlist you had been slowly adding to over the last year — you liked the songs you already knew every word to, creature of habit that you were. Busied yourself by twisting the canned foods so that their labels all faced outwards, then backwards, just for a laugh.

It got to half-nine, the sun had long since set, and you had served one customer since your shift started. A middle-aged man with a muddy van, who bought three RedBulls, a pack of Chesterfields, and half a tank of diesel. He scarcely acknowledged you, a hi when he walked in and a cheers when he left.

Your meal for the evening was a pack of Walkers salt and vinegar crisps and a bottle of chocolate milk, plucked from the shelves and not logged. Leaned back in the plastic chair behind the till with your Chucks propped up on the counter, some Sally Rooney book with its spine broken folded in half in your hand.

You had milk in your mouth when you heard the characteristic thud of a closing car door, a harsher slam than you were used to. Attuned to the noise even while your ears were plugged. You swallowed it hard when you heard the chime of the bell, the swing of the door, the thuds of boots. New customer.

Sat upright, you peered over the register to see who had entered the station, and you were flummoxed when there was nobody there.

You grabbed your earbuds by the flimsy cord and tugged them from your ears with a pop — there were footsteps, someone was there, you weren’t crazy. You could hear the sound of provisions being swept from shelves and shoved into a bag, the bonking of cans and the crinkling of plastic.

Only once you stood did you see the head above the shelves.

Black hood pulled up. Could only see the side of him as he wandered down the aisle, towering beast shuffling along and torpidly picking things up just to put them down again. A foot taller than the racks he meandered between. Wore a black leather bomber over his hooded sweater, well-worn hide, turned tawny brown in the creases and at the edges. All bulky. Padded up. His shoulders swayed with the bravado of a gladiator who spent his life unchallenged.

Had you any remaining hospitality in your system you’d have greeted him, but you circumspectly held your tongue.

There was something in his presence that did not augur well. Something crooked, something bent. Turned the tired air inside the station dyspneic, too dense and thick to comfortably breathe.

Call it a woman’s intuition, if you believed in such a thing.

Simon hadn’t accounted for a bird at the till.

He’d have expected some ruddy-cheeked man with buck teeth and brown-bordered sweat stains on his shirt. The typical clerk at a shithole backroads petrol station, in his experience. They’d shoot him a grimy look, eye him up-and-down with a curl in their lip, all ruffian until he brandished the Sig Sauer he had tucked in the waistband of his jeans.

That was what he had prepared for. He came to stick the gunmetal barrel in the face of the old bloke behind the register, demand every stack of cash from the till drawer and anything valuable he had on his person, maybe fire at the ceiling if he moved too slowly. Piece of cake. In and out.

Instead, it was you.

Sneakers propped up by the register, sucking the crisp dust off your fingers with pink lips. Reading a book as disinterestedly as you might watching paint dry.

Unluckily for you, it didn’t make a difference that you had a pair of tits. He wanted that money.

Your chary little head poked up from behind the counter once he was done collecting his supplies. A few cans of Baked Beans, couple bags of crisps, some vacuum-sealed biersticks. A roll of gauze and a bottle of Dettol for the flesh wound in his thigh. Pack of tissues. Bic lighter. KitKat for a treat. All shoved in the duffle bag he held in his fist, heavy with the wads of cash he had already collected from the last pit-stop on his trip north — an offy in a piss-stained back alley in Cheltenham. Grabbed a few pilsners for the road from there, too.

He forsook his urgency as he approached the register, measured pace, duffle in hand. Eyeing you up with each step as if you were a candybar on a display rack.

Pretty wee thing.

He hadn’t even shown you his gun yet, and your eyes were already peeled wide, glistening in the bright fluorescent lights hanging overhead.

None of the goods he intended to pay for. He didn’t need to make that any clearer to you, the assumption was already plastered on your face as he loomed towards you. Had his mask on, after all; thick black ski mask pulled over his head, jagged holes cut out for his eyes. No doubt that made quite plain his intentions.

You stood pin straight, curling the purple cord of your earbuds between your fingers as if some attempt to ground yourself. Not a drop of makeup on, he could see the satin sheen of sweat on your forehead, the plum rings unconcealed under your eyes. Nobody to impress out here. Still pretty.

“Um, which pump?” You asked flatly, tone meek, in denial of the obvious.

Your stupefied stare followed his hand as it ventured to the base of his sweatshirt, a frown fluttering in your brow as you all but tilted your head in nervous confusion. He reeled up the heavy fleece, white t-shirt underneath — but that wasn’t what your eyes clung to.

His hand curled around the grip of his handgun, plucking it out from the waistband and holding it insouciantly at his side. No need to point it at you, not yet.

Your skin turned cadaver grey as your blood flooded to your feet, eyes bulging with the instantaneous panic that wracked you as though you had been smacked in the face with it.

“Oh my god — ohm — oh my god,” you squeaked, tongue knotting in your mouth, tears quick to well. “Oh my god — y-you—”

It was this, the histrionics, that he hoped to avoid. The tears, Christ, the fucking tears. There wasn’t anything to cry about, not yet, but your rheumy eyes glowed sanguine, and the tears that oozed from them were clear and glittery. Rolled dramatically from their wells and dripped from your chin, seeped into the corners of your trembling mouth. All flushed and glossy and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

There was no blood-curdling outburst, though. You didn’t scream, didn’t wail, didn't scurry around hysterically like a decollated hen. You were stiff as a board, arms pinned flat to your sides. Merely whispered the Lord’s name in vain over and over as if he might answer your call.

“Please — ohmygod — please don’t hurt me,” you cried, lungs seizing with every word, hiccuping and spluttering like you had just been pulled ashore. “What do you want, you can — you can take anything. P-please—”

“Shut up,” he barked, and you flinched at his aggression. “Just open the fuckin’ till.”

You nodded so vehemently he thought your head might roll off your shoulders, and your pallid hands began raking over your body in desperate search of the pocket you kept your keys in. His glare followed keenly as they ran over your hips, waist, unabashedly caressing your arse in the search. After finding them in a back pocket you tried to orient the keys in your grip, but your fingers trembled so vigorously that you immediately dropped them to the linoleum floor.

“Fuck — I’m sorry,” you bleated as you bent down to pick them up, eyes still riveted to him, “I’m sorry, let me just — please, I’m sorry—”

He let out a grunt of exasperation as he marched around to the other side of the counter. Your feet remained planted still as though you were bolted to the floor, leery eyes following him while your head kept rigid.

A deer in headlights. Fawn, more like. Small and doe-eyed and too stupid to get out of his way.

You only whimpered when he jostled you away from the till, physically driving you to the wall with his hands under your arms, clearing his path. He took your shaky little hand in a fist and peeled it open, plucking the keys from your sweaty palm.

The register was old, something from the nineties, yellow-faded plastic with cube-clacky buttons. He shoved the tiny key into its slot on the drawer, gave it a good shimmy to loosen it up, and it popped open with a ding.

Pretty much empty.

“The fuck is this?” He growled, fingering through the notes in the drawer — all twenty-two of them. “There’s fuckin’ nothing in ‘ere!”

Your face screwed up like a wrung cloth when his glare shot to you. Great gulping sobs, your eyes squeezed into fleshy little crescents and spewed tears from either corner, terror rilling from your nose and making your lips all wet.

“I’m sorry — it’s not my — I think Mitch m-must have done the cash drop this morning,” you wailed, “Please — it’s not my f-f-fault!”

“Shut up,” he snapped, jutting the mouth of his Sig Sauer at you, callously reminding you of the fate he held in his grip.

He snarled to himself as he plucked out all of the notes, flipped through them to count it up. Nine fivers, six tenners, five twenties, two fifties. A few quid worth of coins floating around unorganised between the compartments. A prodigious spoil of three-hundred-and-five pounds.

Fucking joke.

He rancorously shoved all the paper in the bag — left the coins, ego too tall to fish out the petty change.

“Piss take,” he grumbled as he slammed shut the till drawer. “What else y’got.”

You blinked up at him timorously as he tucked his gun into his jeans and marched towards you, almost buckling over as though you could curl up into a shell to protect yourself from him.

Only cried as he spread your arms, shamelessly smearing his hands over your body to feel for something in a pocket. Down your waist, stomach, hips; all pillowy under the pressure of his hands, soft even through your t-shirt. Prodded the undersides of your breasts with shameless fingers, checking for anything tucked in your bra, and your lips curled in disgust as you looked away from him.

He almost cracked a smile at your diffidence. Maybe another time, pretty thing.

He flipped you around, manhandling you until your nose pressed into the wall. Hands smoothed down your back, before finding something rectangular tucked into the tight pocket of your skinny jeans. You squeaked in dispute as he stuck his fingers in the pocket, flush with your arse, but he had no time to enjoy it.

Little red wallet.

He flicked through it — a visa debit card, expired Primark gift card, two quid in the zipped pocket and a tenner note folded in a card sleeve. Eyed your license for longer than necessary — cute little photo of you, a tiny smirk in your lips as you gazed at the camera.

“Pretty name,” he said wryly, and you only huffed with your forehead pressed against the wall.

He didn’t bother taking any of the change. Looked like you needed it as much as he did. You winced when he pushed a finger in your back pocket, tugging it open so he could shove your wallet back in.

He instead returned his attention to the checkout, scouring the counters for anything else that could be deemed at all valuable. Nothing, obviously. Merely cardboard display racks of chewing gum and cheap candies. There was a cigarette cabinet behind the till, at least — after some fiddling he found the key on the ring that fit the lock, broke open the steel door, and swept an entire rack of cartons into the duffle bag.

As a last resort, he dropped the bag and crouched down, wiped underneath the countertops with gloved hands, hoping for a vault, a hidden compartment, or—

His fingers brushed plastic, creasing and soft; something wrapped in film, taped to the underside of the counter. He tore it off with a zip, held it in a tight hand; a stack of notes, more than a centimetre thick, wrapped with a hair tie and shoved in a zip-seal sandwich bag.

You let out a remorseful sob as you sunk to the floor with your back against the wall; thighs tucked to your chest, head dropped to your knees.

A grin peeled his lips from his teeth as the realisation settled. “This yours?”

“No,” you chirped, a pitiful attempt at a lie — he was unsure why you wouldn’t admit to it, it wasn’t as though he’d have informed your boss.

“Skimming, eh?” He snorted, peeling open the yellow seam of the plastic pouch and fishing out the stack. Flipped through them — mostly tens and twenties — easily a couple grand, at the very least.

“I just—” you sobbed, shoulders hunched, “I was just saving up. It doesn’t matter. Just t-take it.”

“Saving?” He asked incredulously, voice thick with amused derision. “Little thief. No better than me, are ya?”

“Whatever,” you bellyached, arms wrapped around your knees, snivelling on the floor.

He sucked his teeth as he dumped the stack in his bag. Too bad. His now.

As he went to stand, though, he went dead still — eyes hooked on a flashing blue light under the counter. Squinting, he leaned closer, to substantiate his hunch—

A fucking panic button.

His rage burst like a purulent blister — apoplectic with it, he ripped his handgun from his jeans and steamed towards you.

“You fuckin’ hit the alarm?” He roared, and you shrieked in terror as he took the collar of your t-shirt in a fist and heaved you up from the ground.

“I — I’m — I didn’t—”

Your spluttering only enkindled his fury. You cried out in despairing dread when he shoved the mouth of his pistol into the soft flesh under your chin, and he held his teeth to your cheek.

“Why the fuck would you go and do that, eh?” He growled, inexplicably disappointed. Thought you were smarter than that.

“I’m sorry,” you bawled, shaking your head, wet eyes bolted to the ceiling. “I didn’t know what to do, I just — I thought I was s’posed to, I’m s-sorry. Please — god, please, don’t kill me.”

He huffed, jaw rigid.

He wouldn’t put a bullet in you, pretty thing. Too lovely to mire with lead, that butter-soft skin.

It was a shame you were such a thorn in his side, fractious girl, because otherwise he would have just left you be. Would have taken his cash and been done with it, left you in your piss-wet jeans to cry to your boss about the ordeal and rightfully request some weeks off to escape to somewhere more therapeutic for the soul than fucking Dunhill.

“Would be a damn waste,” he grunted, finally pulling his gun from under your chin, sticking the barrel into his jeans. A moan of relief leaked from your throat once the instrument of your imminent death was no longer kissing your jaw.

Premature relief, love. He grappled you away from the wall, and with a shove, had you in front of him. You yelped when he collared you with a tight hand around the back of your neck, stumbled over your feet as he began driving you forward.

“What are you—”

“Use those legs, girl,” he barked, as he reached to hoist up his duffle bag from where he left it on the floor.

You blubbered like a toddler, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing, as if your tears might engender pity from him. “Are you t-taking me?”

“Not gonna leave you to blab to the cops, am I?”

Another sob. “No — I wouldn’t — I won’t say anything, I don’t even know what you look like. Please—”

“Christ, you’re a whinger, aren’t you?” He rumbled, barrelling through the swinging door and hauling you across the asphalt of the forecourt.

The air was thick with the greasy smell of petrol seeping from lousy fuel pumps, amalgamated with the distant fumes of factory farms and cow manure that hung in a blanketing smog from there to Birmingham. Only the corrugated metal infrastructure of beef and dairy industries for miles in any direction out there.

He couldn’t fathom what a bird like you was doing with her feet in the mud, stagnating in such a miserable shithole. Maybe he was doing you a favour.

He tore open the passenger door of his twenty-year-old Mitsubishi L200 — a rusty black pickup he bought with cash from a shrivelled old man on Gumtree, with hopefully just enough life in it to last the drive north.

You stuck your hand out and planted it on the edge of the door as he pushed you towards it, vigorously shaking your head. “No, n-no — I’m not going with you, I’m not—”

He snorted, and when you didn’t capitulate with a shove, he swept an arm under your knees and hoisted you upward before dumping you into the passenger seat whether you liked it or not. You landed with a squeak, and before you could spew out any more vacant refusals he slammed shut the door.

He stormed around to the drivers side and hopped in beside you, tossing his duffle bag back between the seats, hastily igniting the engine as he shut his own door. Hit the central lock button and the entire truck locked shut with a clunk — you whimpered when you heard it, and turned your knees away from him.

“Where are you taking me?” You cried, as he revved the truck and rapidly accelerated, tearing out of the forecourt and over the curb, landing on the road with a sharp bounce and a tire screech.

He paid little attention to your whimpering as he sped off down the dilapidated country road, eyes flicking to the rearview every odd second to make sure he saw no flashing lights in pursuit. The vehicle dipped and recoiled over every pothole on the crumbling old road — motorway would be preferable, but he decided heading in the opposite direction to loop back around would be the safest bet.

You only sobbed quietly to yourself in his silence, no doubt his lack of response was a threat in itself.

He had no issue frightening you. Served you right.

Took some morbid glee in considering what you imagined he planned on doing with you. Whether you considered weighing up your chances. Might you survive if you were to attack him? Would he go easy on you? Might he enjoy the struggle?

Perhaps you were girding yourself for what he might do next.

Truth was, he hadn’t decided yet.

His decision to take you was as impulsive as it was inexorable.

You weeped until your tear troughs were droughted and nothing more could bleed from their ducts. Cheeks had gone sticky with it, salt dried gritty on your flushed skin, lips shrivelled and thirsty.

Transient thoughts of rebellion had been ignited and snuffed out in the ten minutes since he had abducted you from the station — you could have reached over and pulled the gun from his waistband, could have tried to kick through the passenger window, could have thrown a nuclear tantrum and bucked and screamed until he was forced to pull over.

All would have been futile. You weren’t stupid.

He had that gun in his immediate reach; in fact he kept a heavy hand resting high up on his thigh, prepared to yank it out of its nest above his crotch at any given opportunity. He had made abundantly clear the shortness of his fuse, and that his reflexive reaction to annoyance was to threaten your life.

Best you settle down, you thought — wait until his guard was down, until he pulled over somewhere, then consider something more drastic. While you were trapped in a car with him such an opportunity was unlikely to present itself.

There were no streetlights out this way; your abductor had bypassed Dunhill entirely, sticking to unmaintained back roads that had you bouncing up and down in your seat. Not the motion alone that made you queasy, but the fact he was driving even deeper into nowhere, where the only sources of light were the headlights of his truck, illuminating the dark road ahead like something out of a found-footage horror film.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you croaked, voice abraded to the point of gurgling stones.

You felt his head turn to look at you, but you kept your stare pointed out your window. Knees turned so far away from him that they burrowed into the door.

“Eh?” He huffed dryly.

Sipped a cautious breath before repeating yourself. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’m ‘eaded north,” he said, no elaboration.

“Where north,” you asked more firmly, warily frustrated.

He let out a breathy chortle, as though surprised you’d interrogate him. “Scotland.”

You cocked your head back in bewilderment and turned to glower at him. “Scotland?”

“S’what I said.”

“I don’t want to go to Scotland,” you whined, realising quickly the length of the drive — easily six hours to Glasgow if he stuck to the motorways, but you got the sense he was avoiding them.

“That’s a shame,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” you pleaded, terror thick in your throat. “What do you — what do you want from me?”

You regretted the question as soon as you uttered it, because there was some comfort to be found in uncertainty — that is, the possibility that he wasn’t going to throw you into the bed of his truck and rape you in the pitch dark of the backcountry night.

He looked at you again, eyes tar-black in the shadows of his balaclava, and you held shut your thighs on instinct.

“Dunno yet,” he said.

You might have cried if you had any tears left to give. Instead you blinked at him uneasily, petrified into a surreal state of milky numbness — maybe you were in shock, you had heard of that before.

“So you — you just took me because you felt like it?”

He shrugged with a single shoulder. “‘Spose so.”

A minute of stodgy silence settled in the cab as you stared blankly ahead down the spotlighted country road. You weren’t sure what you should do with yourself, and it made you itch all over. From the pits of you echoed screams to put up a fucking fight, to do something — instead you sat quietly, vacantly, erosively indecisive. Waiting for something to happen. For the other shoe to drop.

“Are you going to shoot me?” You timidly asked, words eking out like dripping water from a tight faucet.

“Hopefully not.”

“Then — then why did you take me?”

His head rocked back and bounced off the headrest as he let out an exasperated puff of air. “Y’make a lot o’ noise, don’t you?”

“Well there would be no noise if you hadn’t.”

He laughed at that, you could see the fine lines creasing in the corner of his puckering eyes through his mask. “Got me there.”

“So then why don’t you just let me out?” You pestered, only emboldened by his droning indifference. Apathy exuded from him like serum from an open wound, oily yet salutary, and you found it grotesquely reassuring.

“Don’t want to,” he bluntly replied.

“Why not?”

He was twitchy. On a razor edge. He lasered a glare at you and it stung, and you shrunk into yourself under the heat of it.

“Because I don’t want to.” He repeated, jaw tight.

You should have heeded the venom in his throat as a warning to shut up, but despite effort to wire your jaw shut, your compulsion to fill the silence was pathological.

“Are you — are you going to—” Couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. The tail of it sat heavy and sour on your tongue.

“Goin’ to what.”

A quivering breath leaked through your teeth. “Rape me.”

He sighed heavily, languidly rocking his head to the side, and you felt his hard eyes on you. Excoriating you from legs to lips.

“Thought about it,” he said.

Ribs closed like dog jaws around your lungs.

Said with such torpor that it didn’t cut you like a threat. Instead it made your heart tight and hot, shuddering rather than beating, pumping out needly adrenaline that made your hairs spike up and your stomach drop heavy.

“And?” You creaked, voice scratching in your trachea.

“Wouldn’t mind a fuck,” he grunted indifferently. “But I don’t like crying.”

A mortifying heat feathered over your cheeks. Something pre-programmed, an evolutionary reaction to the suggestion of sex at all, consensual or otherwise — that’s what you told yourself, when you felt a reflexive shiver between your legs, and your ears turned hot.

“So that’s why you took me,” you mumbled anxiously.

“To fuck?”

You shot him a pointed lour in place of a response.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Fucking weird girl.

Your curiosity was potently unsettling, riveting in the same breath. Didn’t make sense to him, that you’d ask him so unabashedly whether or not he intended on defiling you. What answer were you hoping for? Did you simply want to make sure he said no?

You blinked at him vacantly after his candid response. No use in lying to you.

It wasn’t his style to brutalise himself into a bird, to bulldoze through wails and shrieks of refusal, physical capability to do so notwithstanding. He simply didn’t like tears. Felt beneath him, really, the impotent sadism needed to enjoy milking them. The only wetness he liked in a girl was a wet mouth and a wet cunt.

He was partial to a hisser, though. Liked his spitters and scratchers. The kinds of girls that would gripe and grouse about his brutishness but turned treacly sweet when he inevitably overpowered them.

Perhaps you’d be a hisser.

He would have liked to find out. What noises you might have made. What the skin of your thighs might have felt like when free of their denim sheaths. How your nipples might spike up in the invasive cool of the September evening, or under the unwelcome brush of his fingers.

There was a glimmer in the pools of your eyes, fretful yet inquisitive. He was probably only seeing what he wanted to see.

You went quiet after that, at least. For the best. Kept your little knees nailed together as you glowered out your passenger window, pleasantly pacified for the time being. Sulking like a fucking child, but he supposed he couldn’t blame you.

He wasn’t stupid enough to expect that you’d be cheerful after he kidnapped you. And he wasn’t in denial, either — he did kidnap you. There was no dancing around it. He threatened to kill you and then he abducted you, because he felt like it. Because he liked the look of you.

Not remorseful, though. It would be a cold day in hell before he ever felt sorry for anything. His brain just didn’t function that way. If he wanted something, it was his. No use wasting time feeling guilt over something not even he could prevent.

He spent his time in your silence considering how to make it worth his while. Whether he would, in fact, drag you all the way to Scotland with him. Whether he’d have you aid and abet his next robbery to make up for the piss-poor spoils he purloined from your petrol station. Whether he would find a way to fuck you on the way, or perhaps once he got to his destination.

Maybe he’d let you keep some of your savings if you showed him your pussy. He looked at you briefly as he thought about it. Wondered how badly you needed the money.

“What were you savin’ for, eh?” He asked suddenly, and you flinched at the sound of his voice.

Soft little girl. He’d need to harden you up.

“What do you mean,” you murmured, hardly a croak.

“Don’t play dumb,” he gritted.

You sighed warily, eyeing him before you answered. “Doesn’t even matter,” you grumbled. “You took it, so now I haven’t saved anything.”

He glowered at you, and something in his dissatisfied stare must have compelled you to elaborate. He had that effect on people. Birds, especially. Intimidation coursed through his blood and emanated out of his skin, it didn’t take much effort.

“I wanted to leave Dunhill, obviously,” you groaned, reluctant to spill every word.

“Yeah?” He asked, “where were y’off to?”

“Fucked if I know,” you muttered. “Literally anywhere else.”

He snorted at that. “Couldn’t do that without skimming, eh?”

“What, do you disapprove?” You hissed, scowling at him. “At least I don’t kidnap people when I need money.”

“I’m not judging, sweetheart,” he crooned through a grin. “M’only impressed.”

“Whatever,” you groused, crossing your arms and glaring out the window. “I only took it because I owe a bunch of money.”

He quirked a brow at that. “To who?”

“Why do you care.”

He shrugged. “Boring drive.”

You let out a petulant huff before you inevitably decided to answer him.

“I’m behind on rent,” you said, through gritted teeth. “Like, four months behind. And I’m still paying off my car, which I just needed to get repaired, so now I also owe money to the mechanic who did me the favour. Fucking owe money to the government, too, because they found out I was on the dole while I was working at the station.”

A curl tugged in his lips, brows raised in intrigue. No surprise you had managed to find yourself burdened by so many favours — landlord giving you grace, mechanics fixing your cars without payment upfront. Pretty thing like you, though, he’d expect you’d get everything for free. Couldn’t imagine what kind of penny-pinching wankers would still demand money from you when you looked like that.

Shame you didn’t cross his path sooner, he’d have fixed your car for you. No charge. Might have even let you squat at his place rent-free, assuming you made it worth his while.

Started to imagine it, despite himself. Pictured having a pretty thing like you to come home to. Standing in the kitchen in his t-shirt, nothing under it. He’d bend you over the counter and fuck you right there while you stirred your tea. Wouldn’t have taken much to get your cunt nice and wet, he thought. You seemed like you’d be easy to please, bored little thing, hopelessly awaiting a man like him to show you what’s worth living for.

Maybe he would take you all the way to Scotland, after all.

“What about you,” you asked dully, snapping him from his reverie. “Why do you need the money.”

He glanced at you, you picked at your fingernails and glared at his hands on the wheel.

“Must need it pretty bad,” you muttered, scorn bubbling in your throat.

He tapped the steering wheel. “Long story.”

“What, are you a fugitive, or something?” You asked, contemptuous eyes raking over him.

“Is it that obvious?” He asked, through a chortle.

You gulped, almost cartoonishly. So scared of him. He was sure the mask didn’t help, but he didn’t feel like taking it off yet.

“What’d you do?” You questioned, that pang of anxiousness never quite leaving your voice, despite your attempts at feigning bravery. “Kill someone?”

“Worse than that,” he said frankly.

Your brows knitted together worriedly, fingers knotting. Nervous fidgeting. “Some kind of rapist, then?”

“Not quite,” he replied facetiously, certain you must have found his amusement at the prospect ill-placed.

“Then what?”

“Got in trouble with people you shouldn’t get in trouble with,” he explained, purposefully vague. He enjoyed your inquisitiveness.

“A gang?”

“Could call it that,” he jeered. “Special air service.”

Probably shouldn’t have told you that. Couldn’t help himself.

“Special — wait, you’re in the army?”

“Not anymore,” he said.

You frowned uneasily. “What happened?”

“That’s a tale for another day,” he grunted, and you turned to glare out the window again, spiteful now that he left your curiosity unsated. Little brat.

Twenty uneventful minutes passed uninterrupted, then, and Simon focused on the route he had set out to follow. He had successfully avoided main roads for the better part of an hour, now electing it safe enough to return to the highway. Took a few dark turn offs, and every time the truck slowed, you visibly tensed up; so terrified that he’d pull over for a rest stop and drag you into the grass on the side of the road.

He didn’t like the streetlights. They were confrontational, accusatory, as though their beams of light were enough to alert every cop in the vicinity to his presence underneath them.

The highway was largely empty, at least. Only one car passed in the opposite direction as he cruised along the smooth asphalt, decidedly more comfortable to drive on than the tattered backroads. Meant he could drive a lot faster, too. Might have been able to cut his trip by an hour, if he stuck to eighty-five miles an hour for the stretch between there and Birmingham.

Your girlish little hands clutched the armrest of the door as he accelerated, the speed of the vehicle pushing you against the window as he followed a curve in the wide road.

“You’re driving too fast,” you said quietly.

He cracked a grin. How endearing that you thought to warn him. You were lucky he was trying to keep a low profile, in any other circumstance he’d be brushing a hundred. Then he’d really scare you, wouldn’t he? You could do with some toughening up, he thought.

“Now you’re worried about the law, eh?” He sneered.

“I just don’t want to die in a car wreck,” you bit.

Seemed his docility was emboldening you. Perhaps you were a hisser, after all. Wondered if he needed to correct your behaviour. Maybe you’d spit on him if he reached over the centre console and fixed his hand to your thigh.

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

He avoided the arterial motorway that cut through Birmingham, choosing instead to stick to the A roads that bounced between exits and junctions in a zigzag. Hardly efficient, such a route would tack on an extra three hours of travel between there and Manchester, but at least far less monitored than the M5.

He got cocky, he supposed.

Saw the flashing red-and-blue lights before the sirens started blaring, and you jumped like a bunny — your head wracked around with a speed that made your neck crick, glaring at the cop car through the back windscreen.

“Fuck,” he barked, through a clenched jaw, eyes jumping between the cruiser in his rearview and the highway ahead of him.

He could have shoved his foot down, pressed the accelerator flat to the floor and fled the likely jaded cop patrolling the country highway at eleven p.m. on a Tuesday. There was a chance the fat old bastard wouldn’t give chase, but that chance was slim. Simon didn’t need the attention.

He sunk his foot into the brake and slowed to sixty, veering into the shoulder. “Fuckin’ tosser.”

And didn’t you perk up? Itching all over to bounce out of your seat, head swinging back to look at the police car twice a second. All twitchy and riled up. He could see what you were thinking, it was printed in your cheeks, bright in your eyes; now’s your chance.

He hoped you weren’t that stupid.

“You gonna be a good girl?” He asked rigidly.

“What do you mean,” you squeaked, panicked, eyes peeled wide and skin glossy with sweat.

“Means keep your fuckin’ mouth shut,” he snapped, lifting up his jersey, and you gawped at the gun against his stomach. “You make a scene, I’ll have to shoot him. And then I’ll have to shoot you. Y’understand?”

You nodded tightly, wiping under your eyes with your palms, some paltry attempt to collect yourself. He sincerely hoped you’d behave. He didn’t want to kill you. Would be a waste of a pretty bird. Not to mention a fucking pain in the arse to hide not one, but two bodies.

“Good,” he muttered, as he tore off his mask and tossed it on the ground between his feet, slowing the car to a stop on the side of the highway. Rubbed his hand over his buzzed head on instinct, cropped hair velveteen under his palm. Hopeful the knit didn’t leave suspicious imprints in his skin.

Your lips went a little slack when you looked up to see him unmasked, and a grin creased in his cheeks. Saw plain as day that glimmer in your little eyes, as they scoured over his face as if reading the pages of a book.

Didn’t think he’d be pretty, did you? He was not ignorant of his looks, and wasn’t humble about them either. So blatant in your flustered expression that you liked what you saw, only too virtuous to admit it to yourself.

He wound down his window before the policeman approached. He was adept at pretending to be a good boy. Spent decades licking boots in the military, and cops were even easier to please.

The officer was middle-aged and saggy-eyed, just as jaded as Simon had predicted. The truck was taller than him, so his hatted head peered through the center of the open window, assessing the cab with his lips in a line.

“Evenin’,” Simon said simply.

“Heading home, are we?” The officer asked, eyeing up the bird next to the driver, lathering you in more attention than necessary.

Could’ve clubbed him in the nose for so shamelessly drooling over you — as far as the cop was likely aware, you were his bird, not some slapper along for the ride. He had king-hit men for less.

“You bet,” was all he said.

“Must be in a hurry,” the cop said derisively, glare finally returning to the driver. “Any clue how fast you were going, mate?”

Mate made Simon twitch. Swallowed back the urge to spit not your fucking mate, instead offering a placating grin and a pat of the steering wheel.

“We are in a bit of a hurry.”

“Yeah? Enough of a hurry to be going twenty over the limit?”

“Bird tells me to hurry home, I hurry home,” Simon jeered. “Y’know what I mean.”

The officer almost tutted, until your voice cut across from the passenger seat, and Simon’s knuckles turned white on the wheel.

“Don’t blame me,” you snapped. “It’s not my fault you can’t control yourself.”

To Simon’s surprise, the cop chuckled at that.

“Need to rein your fella in, love.”

“I tried,” you lamented. “I told him he was going too fast and he was going to get pulled over. I told him so. Bastard doesn’t listen to me.”

Simon blinked in your direction, to see you sitting upright with your arms spitefully crossed over your chest, cheeks red-hot with panic and knee bouncing in frustration. If he didn’t know the root of your unease was the fact he had abducted you, he’d have believed you were a contemptuous wife itching to castigate her reckless husband for getting in trouble.

Seemed the cop believed that, too. “Bird’s smarter than you, eh?”

Simon snorted, electing to play along. “That she is.”

“Looks like you’re in plenty of trouble, then,” he taunted.

Simon looked at you, again, to see you scowling at him before you glowered out the windshield. “Mh. Think so.”

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to do the paperwork,” the policeman said sternly. “I’ve got your plate, though, so slow down, yeah? Way down. No excuse for eighty-five in a sixty.”

“Understood.”

“Don’t let me catch you again, eh?”

Simon smiled politely, concealing the chortle that curdled in his throat. Cop wouldn’t be seeing him again at all, ever, because he was fucking off to a different country and intended to stay there for as long as he remained under the radar.

He’d have to dump the car, though. With the plate on the record it was fated for the scrapyard.

“Appreciate it,” Simon said through an artificial grin. “Have a good one.”

The cop only nodded, patted the car door with a flat hand, before waddling back to his cruiser without another word.

Simon was humiliated to admit the relief that doused him was sobering, letting out a ragged sigh as he rolled up the window and twisted the keys in the ignition. He was certain that the encounter would have been far uglier — felt his hand twitching towards the gun on his stomach more than once, imagined how quickly it could have been over if he simply tore it out and pointed it at the wanker’s forehead.

You, strange girl, saved his arse. Whether or not you had intended to help him, you did. His eyes fixed to you as he pulled back onto the motorway, speedometer creeping back up to sixty and staying there, while the police car was still in sight.

“‘Bastard doesn’t listen to me’?” He quoted with a brow raised, incredulous amusement rich in his tone.

“What,” you muttered derisively, staring rigidly out of the passenger window, arms tightly interlocked.

“Think of that on the spot, did ya?”

Seemed you were avoiding eye contact with him now, glare fastened out into the moonlit countryside and head bolted still. Ashamed, perhaps, that you had thwarted your only real opportunity to escape him. Or, worried that if you looked at him for too long, your fear of him might have mutated into something far more difficult to justify. He smirked at the thought.

“You should be grateful,” you grumbled.

“Should I?”

“You didn’t get arrested because of me.”

He chortled at that. Maybe your tactic to ingratiate yourself was to help him, but he got the sense that wasn’t your intention.

“In that case, ‘course I’m grateful.”

“Then say thank you,” you spat, finally swivelling your head on your neck to pin your grouchy little lour to him.

“Thank you,” he crooned, grin sharp.

“Whatever,” you griped, slumping back into your seat with a huff.

He wasn’t sure if he preferred you whining and crying to pouting like a teenager, either option tested his patience. He at least found the latter vaguely amusing, only slightly more endearing than a whimpering abductee in his passenger seat.

“Thanks not good enough for you?” He asked mordantly, and you scoffed. “What, do I have to lick your cunt to prove it?”

Your stare cut to him out of the corner of your eyes, head impudently bowed to avoid facing him head-on.

“Don’t say things like that,” you murmured uneasily, eyes glittering under the streetlight that passed by.

“Like what?” He sneered, “don’t want me to talk about licking your cunt?”

“Shut up,” you chirped, stiff-lipped, tipping your knees away from him and once again scowling out of your window.

He snickered at you, couldn’t help it, watching you get all tight and restless when he said it again. Certain you were involuntarily picturing his head between your legs, whether you liked it or not.

“Don’t like the word cunt?” He teased, winding you up for his own enjoyment. “Or don’t like thinking of me licking it?”

“Stop it,” you whined, shrivelling up like a raisin.

He grinned. “I can call it your pussy instead.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Uh-huh,” he laughed.

You turned to tug at the door handle, yanking at it unrelentingly, and it only thumped as you failed to break through the lock. “Let me out.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Open the fucking door,” you spat, spite simmering in the back of your throat. “Let me out.”

He liked this better. Hissing derision, contemptuous attempts to escape, to demand your freedom. Much more enjoyable than your earlier weeping, all snotty and puffy-eyed.

“Not gonna happen,” he said.

“You’re a pervert,” you growled.

“So?”

“Let me go,” you repeated, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he said candidly, tone as rigid as he intended it to be. He meant it.

Again stymied, you slouched over and turned away from him, and went petulantly silent. Simon drove ahead unruffled, took another exit off the motorway — once again trundling over a poorly kept rural road, heading in the direction of the next highway junction half an hour north.

It was evident being off the beaten track put you on edge, pellucid in the way you tightened your arms around yourself once the streetlights became fewer and further between. He couldn’t blame you, it was certainly slasher-esque to cart you around backroads, where the only buildings were abandoned barns and grain silos. Lucky for you, he wasn’t a murderer. Not anymore. Besides, all of his past killing was government sanctioned. Most of it, anyway.

You kept your mouth shut for the next long while, huffing and puffing every now and again, making sure not to let him forget how unhappy you were with your circumstances. Strangely enough, he found it endearing.

“I need to pee,” you said suddenly, a squeak, shy to say so.

He snorted. “Think I’m thick?”

“I — I’m being serious,” you stammered. Unconvincing.

“Hold it,” he said unsympathetically, turning a left corner, the momentum making you tip into the centre console, your shoulder nudging against his before you spitefully tugged yourself away.

“I can’t,” you grouched.

“Piss yourself then,” he sneered. “I’m not keepin’ this car.”

Your brows scrunched up in disappointment. “I don’t want to — to pee on myself. That’s just gross.”

He smiled. Something cute about you.

“You can piss when we stop for the night,” he said. “How’s that?”

“We’re stopping?” You asked quietly, blinking at him charily, as if he’d change his mind if you spoke too loud.

“Been a long fuckin’ day,” he grumbled. “I’m not driving for nine hours straight.”

“Nine hours?” You pestered, “I thought we were going to Scotland?”

He couldn’t help but grin at that. Perhaps it was a Freudian slip — we. Maybe you had come to terms with it already, the ineludible fact that you were stuck with him for however long he wanted to keep you. So far, that looked like a good while.

“Taking the long way,” he answered.

“What the hell, how many people are looking for you?” You asked, pouting in worry.

He sucked his teeth. “Not enough to find me.”

You didn’t need to pee at all.

In fact, your nerves had sucked up every drop of water that remained in your body after your deluge of tears. They were glutted with it. All swollen and pinging with panic every odd moment, when you remembered you were supposed to be in fight-or-flight.

You were seething, though, that you had failed to convince him.

The plan was poorly conceived, in fairness — you only imagined getting as far as an unlocked door, girding your legs to bolt off into the endless fields on the side of the road in whichever direction they took you. Didn’t spend a moment considering whether you could outrun the goliath, or how rough he’d be when he predictably tackled you. Maybe he’d simply have shot you as you ran away, turned it into a game of target practice for his own amusement.

There was shame brewing within you, now.

Sweltering, emetic, frothy as it crawled up your throat — you were disgusted with yourself, at how pathetic you were being, at how little you had done in the interest of your own escape. How you had let all of it happen.

You always imagined yourself a fighter, it was easy to imagine such a thing. In hypotheticals you would kick and scream, could easily overpower your assailants by sheer will, your resolve to survive so strong that capitulation was inconceivable.

Reality stung.

You weren’t a kicker or a screamer. You were a sit-and-waiter, and that realisation was sobering as it was disappointing.

Humiliated that you had forsaken a real opportunity at rescue for no discernable reason. No reason you could truly justify. Perhaps you had done it to save the police officer; if you hadn’t intervened, your deranged captor would have shot the innocent man for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, and it would have been your fault for making a fuss.

Terror was the next excuse, but that didn’t quite justify it either. If you were so terrified that the man would shoot you, you would not have uttered a word. No, you would have been quiet, a good girl, just as he ordered you to be.

It assuaged your fear, you thought, to see his face.

You were surprised to see a face at all beneath the mask, forgetting he was a man and not some caricature of chaos and violence. He looked like a soldier, too. All scarred and cynical, disillusionment was inlaid in his features despite how caustically he grinned at you.

His hair was freshly buzzed, sandy blond velvet coating his head, long pink cicatrices carved lines into his scalp as if someone had attempted to cut through it and peel it from his skull. He was tattooed, you could tell, by the teal-black engravings that crept up the side of his neck, the rest concealed by the thick hood of his sweatshirt. Nose a little swollen at the bridge, fractured once and poorly healed.

The shame was even more potent when you caught yourself eyeing him for too long, flicking over to him every now and again just to get a glance, the shortest possible eye contact to ensure he didn’t catch you staring.

Fucking mortifying that he was good-looking.

That your mind even allowed you to think so, that your eolithic subconscious had considered your abductor’s appearance at all. The way he had rakishly smirked at you was arrogance manifest, you could see in his russet-brown eyes a patent awareness of your attraction. As if he could smell it on you, goading you to admit it, ego stroked every time you caught his eye.

So you didn’t.

You kept your body tilted away from him, gaze locked out of your passenger window, sweaty hands clamped together. Every now and then you felt his glare on the back of your neck, heard him breathing in your direction — it felt as though you were counting down the minutes until he felt compelled to reach over the console and touch you.

It was only a matter of time, undoubtedly. That’s what he took you for, you were certain, despite his supposed ambivalence. The thought made your heart sit fat in your throat. Stopping for the night was a deadline.

“Where are we stopping?” You asked weakly, voice aimed at the passenger door.

He let out an exasperated breath. “Not sure yet.”

“Are you going to sleep in the car?”

He seemed to find that amusing. “I might not look it, love, but I’m a creature of comfort,” he said. “I’ll get us a bed.”

Us. You shivered when he said it.

A scornful refusal knocked at the back of your teeth, but you knew how he’d twist it, would mock your aversion. He’d make another foul little quip about your pussy, you thought.

You didn’t want to give him the chance to say the word again. Not simply because it was revolting to listen to the degenerate joke about eating you out — licking your cunt, it echoed in the sauna of your skull — but because the mere mention of it turned your cheeks claret-red and the back of your neck all clammy.

What was worse, is that you knew he could see it on you. Plainly emboldened by how much it ruffled you. Could decipher your unease as an effort to conceal some biomechanical reaction, one provoked by the mere suggestion of it, by the vibrations of his voice as he said it.

“Do me a favour,” He suddenly demanded.

You refused to turn and look at him. “What.”

“Grab me a fag, will ya?”

Animosity congealed in your mouth. The fucking gall to request favours of you. “From where?”

“Bag in the back there,” he said simply, “light’s in there too.”

“Fine.”

You peered behind the headrest, his unzipped duffle bag was dumped on the back seat; just out of reach if you were to extend an arm between the gap. Instead you had to twist your entire body and contort yourself through the middle, waist between the front seats as you climbed over the console.

You resented being in such a position, arse jutting out towards the windshield, unable to see the driver that sat so close to you — so you were quick about it, burrowing through the sack, stuffed to the brim with junk, and myriad different brands of cigarette cartons.

“Which ones do you want,” you asked impatiently.

He huffed as he thought about it. “What’ve we got?”

“Um,” you murmured, digging through the cardboard cartons. “Mayfairs, Richmonds… uh. Embassies, Davidoffs—”

“Mh. Gi’s a davidoff,” he interrupted.

You followed his instruction and plucked out the trim red box, and an orange Bic lighter once you found it at the bottom of the bag, wedged between wads of cash. You peeled away the thin plastic covering and flipped open the card lid as you reeled your body back between the seats — immediately you caught him lavishing your rear in attention. He sniffed casually when he caught your eye, utterly shameless.

Heart shuddered in your ears as you sat back down in your seat, gooseflesh prickling up in your skin as you held the carton out for him to pluck out a roll.

He pinched the end of one and stuck it between lips curled over his teeth, before gesturing wordlessly for you to give him the lighter.

“You’re a doll,” he said, muffled by the filter in his lips. Jaw jutted out to angle up the cigarette, he flicked the lighter in his fist with his thumb, little orange flame hovering under the end of the roll as he sucked it.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, swiftly turning away from him to return your attention to the road out the window.

Seemed he was approaching some area of population, little brick houses began popping up on the side of the street, lampposts peppering the road ahead. A surge of adrenaline made your hackles spike up — bystanders, you thought, people who might have heard you if you screamed loud enough.

“Want a puff?” He asked indifferently.

“I don’t smoke,” you snarked, distracted.

He snorted. “Goodie girl, are ya?”

“No,” you said curtly.

“Mh, that’s right — you’re a little thief,” he taunted. “Not a good girl at all.”

There was no response that would spare you his teasing, so you kept your mouth shut. Stayed silent for the remainder of the drive, in fact, a solid quarter-hour — until the car bounced over something and you jolted in your seat. Quickly realised he had pulled up into a parking lot as the truck began to slow.

A two-star Travelodge, evidently, one planted directly on the side of the northbound highway. It looked barren, coral bricks all grimy with lichen and sludgy brown water stains, every window blocked by shut curtains. Not a single light glowed from within a hotel room, only the dim yellow lantern bolted to the wall above the sliding door at the entrance.

You held your tongue in your teeth as he drove to a park at the very back of the lot, under a low-hanging tree branch, concealed by shadow. Your skin began to itch, crawling with bugs and alight with adrenaline — you could run, now, if he opened your door. Maybe you could sprint to the nearest building and hammer on the door, shriek that you’d been kidnapped, and to please please call the police. Or, maybe you could try to snatch his gun from him and shoot him in the fucking head.

Instead you sat still in your seat. Felt your chest breaking out in a panic rash.

“Righ’,” he said casually as he killed the engine, the suspension of the truck bouncing under the weight of him as he adjusted in his seat. “Look at me.”

You shook your head in refusal. Entire body stiff as wood. Anticipation frayed your nerves and made your hairs stand on end. It was suddenly real.

You kept your eyes pinned away from him, but it was futile, because he reached a massive arm across the gap and seized your jaw in a single hand. Fingers dimpled your cheeks as he twisted your head to face him, and you attempted to scowl at him, but your quivering lip made plain your alarm.

“You gonna make a fuss?” He asked stiffly, pinching his cigarette with his free fingers, silvery smoke clouding out from behind his teeth.

You just about said no on reflex, but bit down on it instead, because it likely would have been a lie. Only pouted at him scornfully and shivered in his grip.

“What d’you think will happen if you do.”

You swallowed. “You’ll shoot me.”

He shook his head. “Would be an uncomfortable night for you, though, I can tell y’that.”

A crease pulled between your brows. “Are you going to — to beat me up, or something?”

He chuckled at that, a cocksure grin; you suddenly felt a weight in your chest, burning hot, made your ribs sink and your heart flutter.

You hadn’t yet seen his face up close. His cheeks were stubbled, skin peppered with freckles and the creases of early aging. Teeth were sharp and unexpectedly white, raffishly crooked with pointed canines, a silver cap on a premolar. His lips were full, pale, a single scar running through the top one, white stripe in the ruddy pink.

The shame returned with a kick to the stomach when you noticed yourself staring at his mouth, and you tried to look away from him, but he riveted your head in place.

“Don’t plan on it,” he said, after a beat too long.

Sweat pricked along your hairline. “Then what.”

“I’d like to have a nice long snooze,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna be up all night wrangling you. So if you throw a tantrum you’ll be sleeping tied up with a sock in your throat. S’that what you want?”

“No,” you chirped.

He nodded approvingly. “I don’t want that either. I like the sound o’ your voice. Be a shame to snuff it out, wouldn’t it?”

You attempted to nod, and though his hand kept you still he understood the intention. With a ragged sigh he finally released you, giving you a condescending pat on the cheek.

With a grunt he suddenly twisted and leaned between the seats, gargantuan body taking up the entire cab as he reached behind you to grab his duffle bag, and you wedged yourself against the door to avoid touching him.

Clambered about as he reeled the giant bag back to the front, before snatching the car keys out of the ignition and unlocking the driver side door. He kicked it open and hopped out with a huff, immediately slamming it shut behind him — only unlocked your door with his keys once he was directly outside it, pre-empting any of your attempts to slip away.

He opened the door for you with a clunk, and the biting air of the late autumn night made your entire body tighten up.

“Get out,” he said.

You nodded, swivelling yourself on your bottom and sliding out of the truck cab, landing directly in front of him. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and left the stub smoking on the concrete.

“C’mon.” He fixed a hand to your bicep and yanked you away from the car, shutting the door with a slam.

You were light on your feet as he ferried you towards the entrance to the cheap hotel, his other fist white-knuckled around the strap of his bag.

“You don’t need—” you chirped, almost tripping over your feet, “—to hold me so tight.”

“No?” He snorted.

“I’m not gonna run,” you spat, hushed despite yourself.

“Obviously.”

The sliding glass doors trundled open as you approached them, a tired ding echoing out to welcome you. The reception was quiet, poorly lit by vibrating fluorescent bars, stunk of fresh linen toilet spray and floor cleaner.

Your abductor let go of your arm abruptly when he noticed the receptionist — a teenage boy with headphones on, who disinterestedly looked up from a Nintendo Switch to address the tall brute that sauntered in with you in tow.

“Y’after a room?” The kid asks monotonously.

“Standard double.”

The receptionist clicked around on the computer, smacking chewing gum between his teeth. “How many nights.”

“Just the one.”

Click click. “It’s sixty-eight for the night.”

“Y’take cash?”

The kid frowned dubiously at that, jaw hanging open as he rolled the wad of white gum along his tongue. “Sure.”

“Lovely,” your abductor grunted, unzipping the flap of his duffle bag and fishing out a thick wad of paper notes.

Jaw gaped as you watched him unashamedly finger between the notes to pluck out three twenties and a tenner, slapping them on the counter of the reception before tucking the stack away again. As agape as the receptionist at his brazenness, all but showing off his spoils, plainly stolen.

The kid pouted skeptically as he swiped the notes and counted them again, tucking them aside, and you wondered if he used the same technique as you.

He dropped a keycard on the counter. “Room thirteen,” he said.

“Cheers.”

Your abductor scooped up his bag and planted his other hand on the small of your back, nudging you ahead of him towards the narrow hallway, never allowing more than two feet to grow between his body and yours.

You glanced around feverishly as you wandered meekly down the corridor, identical doors mirroring each other for as far as you could see, until the hall turned a corner. Eyes clung to the glowing green emergency exit lights dotted along the ceiling, as if they might lead you to your salvation.

“Can’t believe you actually paid for a room,” you murmured spitefully, when he nudged you forward by the arse as if guiding a ewe.

“Wouldn’t want to break the law,” he chuffed.

In any other circumstance you would’ve giggled. You might have found him funny if he weren’t the deranged fugitive who had kidnapped you.

A yank of your shirt stopped you in your tracks, tugging you back — your abductor had flippantly taken your t-shirt in a fist, as he shoved the key card into its slot under the handle of a door behind you.

“In,” he snipped, shoving you through the door once he had pushed it open.

The room was small. Hardly enough room for the double bed in the middle of it, skinny end tables wedged on either side. The only amenities were a shin-height fridge and a kettle on a bench, tucked into a nook by the door. It was hot in there, too — radiator bubbling all day, you guessed, to counteract the cold weather.

Immediately you fixed your stare on the window by the bed; a good metre across, brown aluminium trim, lumpy textured glass that distorted the view of whatever sat directly outside the hotel room. Ground floor, you thought, easy to slip out, if you could open it —

Noticed, then, that there was no indication it could be opened at all. No hinges, no frames, no handles. Simply a flat plane of glass stuck in the wall.

Your stomach wrung itself, and you did your best not to keel over. The air was suddenly infinitely stuffier, sweltering, torrid in your lungs.

He flipped shut the bolt on the door, and landed a pat on your shoulder. You could unlatch it, obviously, but the old thing was squeaky, clanking old brass, and undoing it would certainly alert him.

He nudged you out of his way and dumped his duffle bag on the floor beside the bed, evidently claiming the side closest to the door, as if prepared to catch you should you try to slip around him.

In truth, the notion of escape was scarcely a whisper. Supplanted by a nauseating docility — a survival instinct, you thought, to simply behave. To do as you were told.

He began undressing himself, uninterested in whether you observed him; shucked off his old leather jacket and hung it over the back of his bag, unlaced and kicked off his muddy old boots. Your toes curled involuntarily into the soles of your shoes, watching him like a degenerate, as he tore off his hoodie and t-shirt and tossed them to the floor.

Something out of a movie, you thought; gargantuan beast of a man, broad-shouldered and cladded in such a dizzying mass of muscle and adipose bulk that he looked encumbered by it all. The icteric light of the sconces by the bed carved out the divots in his back, the valley of his spine, the symmetrical dimples above the waistband of his jeans — you felt sick with yourself, that you even let your eyes venture there, but they cleaved fast to him despite your chagrin.

He was slathered in tattoos as you had imagined, all flames and skulls and barbed wire, broken up by the occasional stamp of something more meaningful — a sacred heart, serif-font numbers, somebody’s name with a date beneath it. You could read it from where you stood; Johnny, 11/2023.

You were only thankful he hadn’t turned around — couldn’t see you leering at him, and spared you having to see him from the front.

“Still need to piss?” He asked roughly, and your lips twisted.

“No,” you said, still standing awkwardly by the door.

He snickered. “Seemed pretty desperate before.”

“I — yeah,” you stammered, “I don’t know. I’m fine.”

Gave you a shrug as he lumbered into the ensuite bathroom, and you heard the unbuckling of a belt and zip of a fly, the clunk of metal on a counter, then the steady stream of his piss landing in the toilet water.

You scoffed in revulsion. Fucking pig. Couldn’t even close the door. You heard him rinse off his hands at least, though you couldn’t be sure he had used any soap.

He emerged from the bathroom rubbing his shaven head and with his belt undone, leather straps hanging loose from his hips, zipper of his jeans wide open. His gun was gone. Plaid boxers bunched up, distended by the mass within and protruding through his fly — you felt yourself turn berry pink, more repulsed by yourself than him.

This time he caught you staring, and he was manifestly pleased about it. A smug grin pulled in his lips as he shuffled towards you, and you rested your weight on your hind foot.

“Y’want a Valium?” He asked you, and you frowned at him bewilderedly.

“What?”

In front of you, now, you panted like a cornered animal in the shadow he cast. “Might help you sleep.”

You grimaced at him. “You just want to knock me out.”

He snorted. “Why would I do that?”

The daggers you stared at him served as your only reply, and he half-heartedly rolled his eyes at you.

“You reckon I’d want to fuck a sleeping bird?”

“Probably,” you muttered, averting his gaze when he uttered the word.

“No fun in that,” he said simply. “No nice noises if you’re asleep.”

You scoffed, perturbed by how he discussed it happening with you as if it were an inevitability. “What, like screaming?”

He cracked a grin. “Screamer, are ya?”

Your blood went runny. “Stop it.”

He brushed a knuckle under your chin, and you flinched — but to your relief, he relented. Turned away from you and squeezed the back of his neck as if to release tension.

“Get into bed,” he grumbled, plodding towards the bathroom, returning swiftly with his gun in hand.

You went cold. “Why?”

“The fuck do you think?” He replied curtly, shoving his pistol under his pillow, before he pulled his jeans down and your mouth went dry.

“I don’t want to,” you squeaked.

He chuffed at that. “Christ, fucking is the only thing on your mind, in’t it?” He taunted, “don’t get all worked up.”

“I’m — I’m not worked up, you—”

“I’m too tired for this shit,” he grunted, “‘n I’m not havin’ you up and about while I’m sleeping. Get into bed or I’ll put you in bed.”

There was no give in his expression, it was a final order. He did look tired — eyes were sunken and beset with aubergine rings, lids heavy with frustration and exhaustion. He stood with hands hooked on his hips as he impatiently awaited your acquiescence, and you sensed you were on a short timer.

“Fine,” you murmured, shuffling around the end of the bed with your arms crossed tightly, eyes averting him.

He watched you, though. Scrutinised your every move as you bent over to untie your shoelaces, pulling off your converses and dumping them on the carpet.

“Sleepin’ in your jeans?” He jeered, when you reached to pull back the blankets.

“I’m not taking my clothes off,” you retorted, sitting on the mattress and swiftly tucking yourself under the covers. The mattress was foamy, soft, sunk deep as though permanently impressed by all the bodies that have ever slept in it.

“Hardly comfortable,” he said, smirking, decidedly amused.

“Don’t care,” you groused, rolling onto your side away from him, blanket up to your ears.

He chuckled. “Suit yourself.”

You bounced on the mattress as he fell into it, springs moaning as they sunk deep beneath him, and you felt your body tip back towards him — you curled up, as close to the edge of the bed as you could get without toppling over the side.

He switched off the sconce above the bed, and the room was abruptly black as pitch.

The mattress recoiled as he adjusted himself, settling into bed with a gruff sigh, and you felt his warm breathing on the back of your head.

He seemed to find comfort quickly; exhales turning deep and languid, you sensed he had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

There was some relief in that. Temporarily escaping him while he was unconscious.

With your heart thundering in your ears, though, sleep was impossibly out of reach for you. You could hardly keep your eyes shut, they fluttered and twitched as you tried to close them, and they’d bolt back open as though spring-loaded.

Now’s your chance — it echoed ad nauseum in your skull like the chiming of a clock, over and over until your ears rang.

You could have slithered out of bed and scurried to the door, unbolted it and ran down the hallway if you were quick enough. You could have used the steel-legged chair in the corner to shatter the window and sprint into the night. You could have slipped a hand under his pillow nice and slow, snatched his gun from under his head and shot him while he slept.

Instead you lay dead still, save for the trembling that never quite subsided.

You tried to vivisect your own mind while you stagnated in the bed. Attempted to determine why you failed to enact your own rescue, why you actively avoided pursuing your freedom.

The answer eluded you, in concrete terms anyway.

Truth was, you didn’t know where you’d go.

Literally, of course — you had no idea where you were, no phone with you, no sense of direction. You could run to a bystander and ask, of course, but you didn’t want to do that either.

It was as if you didn’t want to go back.

The thought of it nauseated you almost as gruesomely as the uncertainty of the path ahead. Of being dragged back to Dunhill, of being back to square one, of having no money, no prospects, no future.

It was the obscurity, you thought, that kept you there. Something new. Something different, albeit terrifying. The ambiguity of any future, however short, was somehow preferable than the certainty of not having one at all.

Worse to admit was whatever churning you felt between your legs. What seed he had planted when he took you had taken root, tendrils burrowing into the recesses of you and tumescing with a reluctant anticipation. You all but throbbed with it, as if your body were preparing itself for the inevitable, manipulating your mind into assenting to it.

It made you feel sick, and your skin was febrile, sticky with apprehension.

You were baking — the air was thick with it, stifling heat, though in truth it was likely your thundering nerves that set your body alight. Too anxious to release yourself from under the covers, or to roll into a cooler position, or to flip over your pillow to the cooler side.

You lay cocooned for as long as you could bear the heat, but your blood was molten and your head began to ache, and you resorted to uncovering yourself.

You did it desperately slowly, peeling the cover away from you inch by inch, and even in the air you found no relief. Your last resort was to turn off the radiator — if you could — but you’d need to get out of bed for that.

Slinked a leg over the edge of the mattress, whisper-slow, used your elbow to prop yourself up—

You felt a hand grab at your hip, and you were unceremoniously yanked back into the bed with a squeak.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’,” he grunted, voice gratingly hoarse after a half-hour sleep.

A ten-tonne arm was suddenly hooked over your waist, and you were flush with his back, his knees folded in behind yours.

“I just wanted to turn the heater off,” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear you.

“Too hot, eh?”

You exhaled shakily. “Yeah.”

“Y’know why you’re too hot,” he murmured, and you felt him stick his fingers into the back of your skinny jeans, tugging the stretchy waistband and snapping it against your lower back.

“I just can’t s-sleep when it’s warm,” you stuttered, tongue tangling in your mouth.

“Bit restless, are ya?”

You felt his hand glide over your belly, and your muscles turned to stone, entire body tensing up with the touch.

“I’m not havin’ you tossing and turning all night,” he grumbled, thumbing at the button of your jeans, unfastening it with a pinch.

“Don’t do that,” you breathed, heart plugging your trachea, unable to swallow a real breath.

He persisted unimpeded as if he had not heard you, pushing down your zipper and stuffing his hand unhesitantly down the front of your underwear.

You squeaked in fright the moment his fingers brushed your mons — every millilitre of blood in your body flooded out of your extremities and pooled between your legs, a reflexive reaction that fired off every nerve ending under your skin.

“No, d-don’t—” your whimpers of refusal eked out between your teeth on instinct, but their root lay more in humiliation than fear.

His hand was icy against your feverish skin, and goosebumps bristled out from his touch — your vision went foggy as a cold middle finger the size of two of yours slid along your seam, lips went slack as the tip burrowed deeper.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunted, his stony voice tickling the hairs on the nape of your neck, “you are warm, aren’t ya?”

“Stop it,” you whined, half-heartedly, defeat viscid on your tongue.

His finger snaked deeper between your legs, the others flush with the puffy outer lips of your cunt, thumb burrowing into your groin as he wedged his hand in the tight gap between your pussy and your jeans.

He chortled under breath when the tip of his finger broached your entrance, dipping into the mortifying abundance of your fluid that had pooled there. God, there was so much of it, you were humiliated — you had been in denial, ignoring it, even as you felt it slicken the gusset of your underwear, maybe even the inseam of your jeans. It was only instinctive, you told yourself, it wasn’t like that—

“Jesus Christ, girl,” he chuffed, breathless, and you could not for the life of you tell whether he was proud or disgusted. “Made you wait too long, did I?”

You shivered, cunt pulsing around nothing, felt the nettle sting of adrenaline crawling down your spine.

“N-no, I—”

Bit down on your tongue as his slippery finger dragged up between your folds, catching your clitoris with a swipe and making your legs clamp together in a vice.

He only scoffed in awe. “Sensitive thing.”

“Stop doing that,” you mewled, so embarrassed that your cheeks were aflame, ears burning red-hot, heart galloping in your chest.

He didn’t believe your attempts at refusal, and you weren’t certain you did either — not when he stroked your clit with the palp of his finger, up and down, all of his movement honed in on the one spot that made you choke on air.

“Not so bad, is it,” he sneered.

You curled up like a cat, but he kept you fastened to him, immovable hand burrowed deep in your jeans. His finger slid between your folds effortlessly despite how hard you pressed your legs together — there was no escaping it, every brush of his fingertip against your slippery clit burned more than the last, igniting an inferno in the core of you that seemed inextinguishable.

Fucking humiliating, degrading, shameful, that the brute who had abducted you could make you feel that good, do so little to have you so, so—

“You’re a fuckin’ furnace,” he jabbed, and he swiftly tugged his hand from between your legs and out of your jeans.

Whatever remorseful noise spilled from your mouth was beyond you, high-pitched and so wanton it made you sick to hear it, but he only snickered.

“Quit whingein’,” he chided, taking your waistband in a fist.

He hiked your jeans down with a violent tug, tearing them down to your thighs, underwear pulled down with them. What little abnegation you had left turned to sugar on your tongue, dissolving in your saliva and sliding down your throat.

The blanket was gone, then, pulled off and pooled at the end of the bed — the slightly cooler air biting at your bare skin scarcely settled your tempers, even less so when he roughly shoved his hand between your legs again, now unobstructed. Three avid fingers prodded against your hole as if to collect the syrup that pooled there, slickening themselves before they dragged back up.

You yelped like a kicked puppy when he kneaded your clit, pads of his fingers pressing and pulling in firm circles, bud swollen and shuddering and so sensitive it was sore.

You could only whine about it, now unwilling to fight him off and likely incapable even if you wanted to. He had you riveted to him, chest solid against your back, heaving arm locking you in place. Your compunctions had melted, deliquescing into the stodgy recesses of your mind; usurped by the revoltingly animal, blood-thinning want that thundered in your temples and made your mouth all wet.

“Don’t, p-please, you’re—”

“Tha’s it, girl,” he rumbled, directly into the back of your skull, and it made you dizzy. “Let it happen.”

Your core tightened up, cunt constricting as tight as a vice, painfully empty — the surge was as sudden as a flash flood, just as violent, and you drowned in it as it swept you under. You came beneath his fingers with a winded whimper, so forcefully you bucked your legs to evade him, bullied clit ablaze and spasming in waves that made your heart stop with each contraction.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he chortled, easing his infliction but not yet stopping. “Listen to you.”

“Shut up,” you whined, unable to catch your breath.

“That’ll help you sleep, eh?” He teased, fingers finally retreating, trailing your slick up your mons before he landed flat on his back with a huff.

You were molten, sweaty hair clinging to the nape of your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to take off all your clothes and have a cold shower. All you could muster was your jeans, though, already half-off — you used your feet to peel them down to your calves, kicking them off into nowhere. Your shame had dissolved, now, utterly irretrievable.

The stale air was cool against the wetness of your inflamed cunt when you rolled onto your back; a potent relief, despite how unbecoming you felt it to leave yourself so exposed in the company of a bedlamite.

“Now stop fussing,” he grunted, settling into the mattress, hand resting on his stomach. “Don’t want you wakin’ me up again.”

You couldn’t have fussed, even if you tried. Body utterly siphoned of all energy, mind as foggy and blank as smoke.

It took you less than a minute to fall asleep.

Morning came with rain.

The glow of daylight through the embossed window was powdery white, you heard the gentle patter of raindrops landing on the pane, the loud dripping of a leaky gutter pipe somewhere outside.

Your mouth was chalky, tongue swollen, vision too blurry to identify where you were at a glance.

The realisation rinsed you like cold water when you heard the gruff breathing from beside you. Heavy and deep, the warmth of a body lying too close to you, you felt the hirsute skin of a leg against yours.

You were nauseous as you remembered the night before, when your legs brushed together and you noticed they were bare — no underwear on either, the sheets tangled up between your feet and your hair greasy on your forehead. Your cunt was still sticky and it made you wince to move and feel it, remembering how he had touched you, that his fingers were likely still covered in the dried residue of the orgasm he had milked from you.

The remorse was as pounding as a migraine. Brontide in your skull that made the room spin, and you wanted nothing more than a glass of icy water and some ibuprofen.

You peered over your shoulder at your abductor; lying on his side with an arm folded under his pillow, shoulders rising and collapsing with each heavy breath, scarred face somehow peaceful in his slumber. It was surreal to witness him like that, observing him in his most vulnerable state — you knew his gun was under that pillow, but the thought of trying to steal it faltered as fast as it came.

Instead you slipped out of the bed, pattering on the soft soles of bare feet to the tiny kitchenette, and filled up a brown glass mug with tap water. You drank it all in three hard gulps, then filled up another.

He didn’t stir, not even slightly. In such a deep sleep that you likely could have put your jeans back on and unbolted the door without even waking him.

Instead you went into the ensuite, shutting the door behind you. The bulbous knob had a push-button to lock it, but it was loose, and no matter how many times you pushed it, it failed. You gave up quickly, though — didn’t want to wake him up yet.

The bathroom was arranged nonsensically — the toilet sat by the door, the vanity across from the shower that was tucked into the corner. Its glass walls were grimy with limescale, every amenity made of faded ivory acrylic and stained brown at the edges where the janitors had failed to clean it.

You flushed the toilet when you saw that he hadn’t and swore under your breath in disgust. Fucking animal. You quickly peed, rinsed out your mouth with water from the sink, then turned on the shower. You only had a t-shirt to take off, revolted that it was all you had worn during the night. You hung it on the towel rail.

You kept the water lukewarm, too sensitive for cold and too feverish for hot. An array of cheap mini soaps and shampoos lined the tiny in-built caddy, and you were not frugal in using them. Used almost the entire bottle of body wash to lather every crevice of your body, washing away the sweat of panic and ignominious lust that mired your skin. Shampooed and conditioned your hair with products that smelt like pine and citrus with an undercurrent of battery acid.

The water was cleansing, a pleasant distraction, and you shut your eyes as you rinsed off your face, rubbing the grease off your skin.

You rubbed your eyes before you opened them — immediately spotted a silhouette outside the shower, and a blood-curdling scream erupted from your chest as you sprung from the ground. Almost slipped over when you landed on the PVC floor, but you managed to catch yourself with your hands on the glass.

“What the fuck!” You shrieked, heart galloping so rapidly you worried it would break a rib.

He was blurry through the spray of water landing on the shower walls, but you could see him lumber towards the shower door. You shrunk into the corner when he cracked it open, back firm against the square tiles as if you could slip through the fractures in the grout.

He stepped into the shower as if he hadn’t noticed you there, leviathan that he was, his body took up two thirds of the space in the narrow glass box. Boxers were gone, his cock hung heavy and unashamedly, and your stare caught on it like a fish on a hook. Fucking bludgeon of a thing; it swung as though prideful, thick from root to head, roped with veins and sheathed in rosy foreskin. Half-hard, it jutted out from his bed of wheaten curls at a forty-five degree angle, and it bounced as he took a step.

You looked at it for too long, breath caught in your gullet, and he noticed.

“Settle down,” he taunted, hardly a croak, morning voice abraded and gurgling from his throat. He shut the shower door behind him.

You had a plethora of disputes to mount — get the fuck out, how dare you, you didn’t even knock — but they all fizzled at the back of your throat, when he hauled you out of the corner by the hips, swivelling you around until your nose was flush with the shower wall. Kept you there with a hand cuffed around the back of your neck, wet hair knotting in his fingers.

“You can’t—”

“Prettier than I thought,” he murmured to himself, a rough hand smoothing from your hip to your ass, brazenly taking a handful and squeezing hard enough to make you chirp.

“Get off—”

You choked on the rest of your dispute when he packed his hand between your legs, the gap tight where you held your thighs together — he gave no warning when he snaked his finger between your folds, nudging for an entrance.

It happened so fast you couldn’t catch a breath — he found it quickly when your hole twitched at the intrusion, and you yelped in shock when he unhesitantly pushed it inside you to the knuckle, palm flush with the base of you.

“Lovely little cunt.”

And despite every effort to maintain some dignity, every bulwark you had attempted to erect against succumbing to your baser appetites, came toppling down in the quake of his words. Scruples sloughed off from you like the shed of a snake, and whatever slithered free was as shameless as she was hungry.

“Mh, still nice and warm after last night, in’t she,” he crooned, flexing his finger to push it deeper before raking it out.

He was priming you, evident in how he stretched you open around his thick finger, pumping it in and out of you as though assessing how deep he could go. You pressed your forehead against the cold tile, toes curling into the plastic shower floor, whimpering like a wounded animal.

You felt like one, when he tried to push a second finger in — he had to wriggle it to wedge it in, bully it deeper before your hole could stretch to fit it. It stung where the fragile skin pulled taut, but it was a delicious pain, like the burn of liquor or the sting of pulled hair.

“Christ, that’s tight,” he grunted into the shell of your ear, and a chill prickled down the side of your neck.

He ran out of patience, you supposed, because he slid his fingers out of you and your cunt spasmed in protest of its emptiness. He had spun you around then, handling your body like a ragdoll, moving you right where he wanted you — had his hands under your ass in a blink, and he deftly hoisted you upward, back grinding against the tile wall.

You hooked your legs around his hips on instinct, arms slung over his shoulders when he put them there, his face level with yours. Water ran in rivulets down his face, dripping from his hairline and off his chin. Pupils distended and black as tar, beady as a shark, and glaring into the depths of them made your tongue even wetter.

His titanic arms held you up without exertion, and one released your thigh to scoop underneath you — held his cock upright in a fist, and with no pause he lodged the clubbed head of his cock against your opening. He pushed in with his full weight, reaming you open on the girth of it, and your eyes glassed over.

The noises you made were animal, mewling and gasping, coughing when he landed against the spongy plug of your womb, cock as hard as a gun barrel and just about as threatening.

“Fu-hu-huck,” he chuffed into your cheek, voice oozing ardent satisfaction, vibrating directly into your skull. “Tha’s heaven.”

It tracked that he was a talker, given how chatty he was for the duration of the drive — but you liked it. God, you liked it. Mortifying, yet liberating to admit to yourself, that you wanted to hear him talk; you wanted to hear him tell you how lovely, how pretty, how perfect you were.

“All sweet now, aren’t ya?” He purred, bouncing you upward as he rutted hard. “Just what she needed, mh?”

You almost said it aloud — yes crept along your tongue and prickled at the tip, but you weren’t quite ready to let loose the confession. It escaped instead as a moan, head rocking back and knocking against the tile, and he let out a low chuckle, because you said it in all but words.

“Yeah,” he grunted, panting, pelvis grinding against yours as he pistoned into you, somehow deeper every thrust. “Fuckin’ knew it. Barmy for it the second I walked in, weren’t ya?”

He grabbed your face by the jaw, angling your head to look directly at him, the squeeze of his fingers forcing your lips to pucker. His cheeks were ruddy, blood fresh and hot under his skin, eyes rabid with hunger and pride. They scoured every feature on your face and you melted beneath their attention.

“Gorgeous girl, aren’t you?”

He rutted with purpose, chasing his own end with no mind paid to your squeaks of sore rapture, grunting as his cock reeled out and stuffed you full again in steady rhythm. You could only burrow your fingernails into the meat of his back, carving into his wet skin as if holding on for dear life.

“Just fuckin’ perfect,” he grunted, a tirade that persisted through every thrust,

“Sweetest thing I ever stole.”

“Who needs fuckin’ money, eh?”

“Hit the jackpot with you, din’t I?”

“Might just keep you forever.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, sweetheart?”

Perhaps your brain had been knocked against your skull one too many times, turned soggy and stupid in the heat, because you whimpered; “Y-yeah.”

His brows shot up at that, shocked — but that surprise quickly gave way to a lavish conceit, a vicious smile that oozed pride for having conquered your inhibitions without even having to try. You’d have been embarrassed if you had the capacity for it anymore, but all shame had been bled from you.

“Yeah?” He goaded, grin wide and jaw loose, panting through his teeth. “Want me to steal you away, eh?”

You nodded as much as he would allow you to, and his lips planted on your chin as though tempted to bite you.

“I can do that, love,” he crooned, “I can take y’where no one will ever find ya. Keep you all for m’self.”

You whined when he only fucked you harder, tender skin of your back chafing against the grout with every jolt. Seemed he was approaching the summit of his own pleasure — huffing like a bull, thrusting with anger, not nearly as chatty as he had been for the rest of it.

“Agh, shit—” he groaned, mouth landing on your shoulder, teeth catching your skin. “Fuckin’ hell—”

He hastily reached underneath you to unsheathe his cock from your hole, leaving your cunt bitterly empty and convulsing in its sudden vacuity — his entire body jerked against you as he came, you felt his cock jolt beneath the cleft of you as it spurted ropes come against the tiled wall he held you to.

His climactic groans were music, to you, little lecher that you were. Some foul part of you was remorseful he hadn’t come inside you instead, hadn’t carelessly pumped you full of it — not a drop of rationality left within you, evidently.

You didn’t expect him to kiss you, but he did; planted a slovenly kiss on the side of your neck, pillowy lips wet with saliva and the water of the still-running shower.

He released you, then — didn’t quite drop you, lowered you as gracefully as he could before letting you land on your feet with a thud. Gave you a pet on the head as though to praise you, a prideful kiss into your scalp.

He shut off the water with a shove of the chipping lever, and the showerhead continued to leak fat drops of water despite it being shut off. He pushed opened the shower door for you, and you slipped out, sodden feet landing on the bathmat.

There were scant words exchanged as you handed him one of the towels, using the other to dry yourself off. You couldn’t help but watch him as he rubbed himself down with the teal-blue cotton, polishing his head like a bowling ball, flossing under his arms, unabashedly rubbing the towel under his balls to dry between his legs. Something in his nonchalance, unapologetically going about it all as if it were normal, was endearing to you. Made your hackles soften, if they were still at all raised.

You put your t-shirt back on, wishing you had a change of clothes, and ventured back into the bedroom — the air was still thick with the dusty warmth of the heater, and ripe with the musk of both of the worked up bodies that had spent the night in it.

“Get dressed,” came a demand from behind you, followed by a coaxing pat on your bare arse. “Need to hit the road.”

You looked over your shoulder at him, watching as he pulled on his boxers, tucking his cock away and snapping the elastic waistband around his hips. You picked up your knickers from where they had landed on the carpet the night before, shimmying up your legs.

Couldn’t yet believe what you were girding yourself for. What you had already accepted as the next step you would take.

You caught his eye, a pout in your lips;

“Can we get breakfast first?”

i've got a pinterest board for this one. the vibes have been stewing for a long while

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x female reader #bella-writes

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finelinevogue · 11 days ago

Text

forget the trophy

summary - forget the trophy, you’re more important

pairing - lando norris x secret gf ! reader

a/n - i literally watched one race today and now i think i am qualified to write f1 fic… who do i think i am right?!? anyways sorry for any inaccuracies lol

> Now.

It was a big day.

Not only was it the Silverstone Grand Prix but it was also your first time attending a race as Lando’s secret girlfriend.

Apart from his family and yours, no one else knew that you two were in a relationship. You had both decided for it to be that way, particularly because you didn’t come from a famous lifestyle.

The British Grand Prix for Lando was everything. He was so determined to win and you felt that it wouldn’t be right if you weren’t there to support and celebrate, no matter the outcome.

So you had decided to attend, passing yourself off as just an extended member of Lando’s family for now.

Before the race you hadn’t seen Lando, because they like their drivers to keep their head on the race and not be distracted by anything.

It was a slight blow not being able to wish him good luck right before the race, but at least you got to last night.

> Last Night.

“Would you stop pacing?”

Lando was sat in bed already, bedsheet pulled halfway up his body so his top half was shown. One arm was thrown behind his head as he watched you pace the short length of the hotel bed in front of him.

“I can’t!”

“Y/N.”

You placed your hands on your hips as you blew out a long steady breath.

“I feel sick.” You said, staring at the floor beneath your toes.

“Y/N.”

“You know what? Is this what a panic attack feels like? I mean, I thought I’d be rolling around on the floor hyperventilating if I was.”

“Babe.”

“Maybe a panic attack would be good you know?”

“Right. That’s it.”

Before you could register what was happening you felt an arm slink around your waist and tug you down onto the soft mattress. Lando didn’t stop moving your body until you were pulled to the top of the bed and he could cocoon you in his body.

You laughed after a scream as his hands managed to find your ticklish spot on your waist.

“Stop.”

“Come here.” He laughed, tugging you close.

You calmed down as you looked over Lando’s face and saw the underlying concern there in his eyes. He came down off the high with you, keeping you close like it was his way of keeping you safe.

“What?” You asked, looking down at where he wore his necklace that you gave him. The one he hadn’t taken off since you gave it him.

“Look at me, please.”

You shook your head slowly, trying to burrow your face deeper under his chin.

“Okay, but listen to me then, yeah?”

You nodded, kissing his neck softly to prove you were paying attention.

“Nothing is going to change tomorrow if you don’t want it to. We can pretend like we don’t know each other at all if you want - as hard as that would be for me. But there’s a part of me that wants everyone to know that i’m yours and you’re mine. I like the idea that people can get to know you and see how amazing you are.”

“I’m scared.”

“I am too, but we’ll be doing it together.”

“It doesn’t seem as scary when you put it like that.” You said, tilting your head out of the warm nest you’d made so you could once again look at Lando face to face.

“It doesn’t, does it?” He gave you a smile that sealed that pressure off for you. With that smile you knew everything would be okay.

> Now.

“Is Lando Norris about to win his first British Grand Prix?”

You were watching the race on a TV from a private room in the McLaren pod.

Lando’s mum was sat in there with you, as were your family. Everyone who you wanted to be here to witness this moment with you was here.

You watch as Lando turns the final corner. Tears were already in your eyes.

As he drove across the finish line you couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by emotions.

“And Lando Norris wins the British Grand Prix at Silverstone.”

Everyone in the room erupted with cheers and joy. Lando’s mum went immediately to crying, as did you. Your mum hugged you in celebration and as she pulled away she helped wipe your mascara - waterproof my ass.

You went up to Lando’s mum next and gave her a huge hug, which she returned with a kiss to your cheek.

“He’s going to want to see you first I bet.”

“Over his mum? I don’t think so!” You laughed, wiping underneath your eyes.

She gave you a look to suggest otherwise and hugged you one last time.

The McLaren team ushered you out of the room to continue your celebrations near the podium. Your mum and dad were out of the door first, followed by Lando’ family.

You stayed back to grab a quick picture of yourself sobbing over this monumental moment, laughing to yourself as you saw the state you were in. You immediately sent it to Lando, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later when he’s with you.

“Y/N?” Someone asked whether you were joining everyone else and you nodded excitedly.

After you’d been led outside you couldn’t help but become overwhelmed again when you heard all the fans in the stands cheering Lando’s name.

So many people loved him.

So many people idolised him.

And it was so fucking crazy that you got to be the one that held him in a different way after every race.

God you were so proud.

You smiled as you joined the back of the McLaren team mini-mosh pit as they jumped and cheered as Lando pulled up in front of the podium.

It was a great moment for the team.

You laughed as you watched Lando on the big screen, pulling a tissue from your dress pocket to wipe underneath your eyes. You held your hands together and rested them underneath your chin as you watched him with awe.

He got out of his car and stood atop of it to seal the moment.

You cheered along with everyone else, making you feel like a fan for a moment.

He didn’t take his helmet off as he made his way over to the crowd of McLaren teammates. He was meant to go and get weighed instantly, but he was allowing himself to have this one moment instead.

He got hugged and tapped on his back and head as he met his teammates. You stood on your tiptoes to catch a glimpse of him, covering your hand over your mouth to conceal any ugly sobs.

Lando stood up on the railing so he could see the whole team. Well, that’s what it looked like to everyone else but in reality he was just looking for you.

Lando immediately spotted you at the back and waved his hand for you to come closer.

You shook your head, not wanting to steal his moment. However, when the team parted to practically create a path for you to walk down to meet him you couldn’t say no.

Your body took over and you ran the few steps to meet him.

By this point Lando had jumped down off the fencing and quickly instructed his teammates to help him take off his helmet and mask.

You let out another sob as you reached him, pulling him for a bone-crushing hug.

Your body shook against his as you cried in happiness.

He deserved this.

This was his win.

Yet, he was sharing his moment with you. As if you were the trophy at the end of all of this.

His arms held you tight against him, neither of you stopping to think of how public this was between you. Maybe that was the point though, because doing it together didn’t seem daunting at all.

“Well done.” You mumbled against his neck.

You felt him laugh out a breathy laugh against your shoulder. “We won.”

We.

Like you had helped him cross that finish line first.

“You’re so amazing.” You let your lips kiss his neck as you spoke.

Lando tilted his head back away from you, allowing him to see you up close for the first time all day.

He shook his head softly at you with a smile.

“What?” You asked nervously, holding the back of his neck as he held your cheeks.

“Feeling a lot of emotions right now, but nothing exceeds the way I feel for you.”

“Stop. I’m already crying, you dickhead.” You start crying a little more.

“Lando we need you over here.” A woman with a headset on sort of ruined your moment. You could see his expression sour slightly, but with a few tugs on the curls on the back of his neck he was brought right back to you.

“Go. I’ll be here.” You promised.

He kissed your forehead, his promise of returning to you after he completed his job first.

He was chaperoned over to where he needed to go, glancing back at you to blow you a kiss.

If people didn’t know you were together by now… well then those people aren’t exactly geniuses.

Just when you thought you couldn’t get any more emotional you watched on the big screen as Lando signed a bottle of champagne.

Y/N, we won this one together.

And drew a little imperfect heart underneath it.

So…

You guessed you two weren’t a secret anymore?

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando x you #lando imagine #lando fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #formula one #formula one fic

2K notes · View notes

sundives · 9 days ago

Text

Hope ur ok ✶ yjw.

Well, I hope you know how proud I am you were created.

Summary: Ever since you rejected Jungwon's feelings back in high school, he swore to his life that he'll make you regret it by beating you at every competition that he can possibly see — and you're not one to back down either

Four years into college and your unwavering rivalry with Jungwon never stopped and it's leading you to insanity, wondering if this is a battle of one's wit or pride, or just a pay back for breaking your best friend's heart.

✰ Song inspiration: Hope Ur Ok by Olivia Rodrigo, Colossal Loss by Niki, Teenage Dream by Olivia Rodrigo

✰ Word Count: 22.6k

✰ Tags: Childhood friends to best friends to academic rivals to lovers or enemies? Or a third thing? We don’t know, infuriating angst, miscommunications? no communications at all, hurt no comfort, denial of feelings, betrayal, a bit of fluff ig, smut! cursing and banters, college setting, classmates, bands, house parties (jungwon had the party 4 u moment), Yang Jungwon is in a band (and he’s a petty asshole,) reader is also petty (also has pent-up feelings for Jungwon). They were young and immature, let them slide, mentions of enhypen members, mentions of kpop idols, oc characters. Minju as your best friend. Open ending.

✰ CW: smut! Plot with little porn, unprotected sex (pls don’t) oral (f receiving), clothed sex, dom! Jungwon, sub! Reader, nipple/breast play, degradation, dacryphilia, implied somnophilia.

✰ Asul’s note: fifth installment of arcanum series!! FINALLY Jungwon’s story is here! I know you guys are waiting for this one, and I hope you guys enjoy this one. I didn’t hold back with the angst in this one so yeah. Also shitty smut ahead, I’m not great with the degradation and mean stuff lol. Inaacuracies once again, and not proofread enough, but enjoy it though.

Also if you have read Heeseung’s story, his gf is also the reader, but I gave her a name here in Jungwon's story since she has a huge role in this one lol. (They’re still considered as y/n in their own story.)

You can check the other member's stories here: Heeseung | Jay | Jake | Sunghoon

✰ Taglist: @kiikiisblog @chuuyaobsessed @mangoescrazy @dearestdreamies @ambi01 @meowwons @sourkiki @won1yoiz @avadie @tinyteezer @tatikeu @heeseungsgf26 @k1ttyjwon @wondash @whotfcrystal

The classroom was filled with noises. Bustling whispers and groans as the midterm papers are being returned by their professor. The woman in front, Atty. Yoon has a small smile on her lips as she hands out the papers one by one.

“Congratulations Jungwon! You’ve got a perfect score,” a round of applause filled the classroom. All eyes were on Jungwon who had a small smile as he accepted his paper from the midterm exams.

As Jungwon sat on his chair, he quietly observed his answers after not seeing it for a week. It wasn't his best arguments but it still got him a perfect score, he doesn’t have the right to complain about whether he could’ve done better.

“Y/n, perfect score too, congratulations!” his head lifted immediately as soon as your name was called. Jungwon watches you stand up from your seat and walk towards the teacher’s table. You mouthed your thanks to your professor before going back towards your seat — catching the way Jungwon was staring at you, and giving him an eye roll before sitting.

You began rereading your paper. Seeing the small comments and remarks from your professor made your smile even wider. The perfect score was just a small thing, but hearing feedback from your professor was a different praise for your intelligence.

After returning all the papers. Atty. Yoon began her lecture. The class fell into silence, unable to ask their peers their results. You listened to her diligently as you wrote down notes and observations from her lectures, until the clock strikes at three-thirty.

“Okay! That’s all for today, remember to pass your activities tomorrow and — oh! May I request those who got a score of ninety-five and above to approach me? Class dismissed.” she smiled as she watched her students scramble from their seats.

You stood up from your seat, walking straight towards the teacher’s table along with some classmates of yours — including Jungwon, who only gave you a small glance.

��The Supreme court is opening their office for interns this year, but only one will be given to this section since limited slots will be open,” the professor explained, looking at each student one by one.

“This isn’t mandatory but it will be a great experience. I am giving you all the opportunity to apply for it. It’ll be open next month, just wait for my further announcement, but for now, think about it and its merit on your future” with that, she grabs her things, smiling at them as she bids, “that would be all, goodbye!”

As she exited the classroom, your classmates were surprised by the news, they began conversing about the internship while you’re still sinking in the news.

An internship in the supreme court? It’s a great starter to know more about the court trials and hearing of laws. — it’s not just a great opportunity, it might be a stepping stone for your future as a lawyer.

“You’re going to try?” you turned to your classmate who you only replied with a smile.

“Of course she will! Y/n, I think you’ll be a great candidate for it!” another one complimented, and you only chuckled.

“I do think it’s a great opportunity,” you simply answered, not missing the way Jungwon glanced at you.

“What about you Jungwon? You’re going to try?” someone asked, and Jungwon didn’t say a word for a moment.

“I’ll think about it,” Jungwon replied, glancing at you who’s smile faded. “I might be busy with Arcanum too.”

“Oh really? But I bet you can multitask it, you’re not Yang Jungwon for nothing!”

As soon as their attention shifted on Jungwon, you excused yourself and returned to your seat. A thinned line formed on your lips as you grabbed your bag when you felt a presence approaching you.

“You seem relieved,” Jungwon stated. “That I’ll think about it.”

“What makes you think that I’m relieved? It’s like you’re saying I’m scared that you might steal the slot from me.”

“Your words, not mine,” Jungwon nonchalantly shrugged.

“Because I know you Jungwon, your ‘I’ll think about it’ will just take a day and you’re going to do it eventually,” you sassed.

“And I know you y/n, this opportunity is a great kick for your law school essays,” Jungwon smirked at you as he reached his hand. “May the best student win.”

“Fuck off Jungwon,” you snarled at him, glaring before leaving the classroom. The heavy feeling in your heart followed you not long after as you exited your department building.

You and Jungwon used to be two peas in a pod. Growing up in the same neighborhood, you two became close the moment your parents knocked on the doors of the Yang residence and introduced themselves.

You remember five year old Jungwon peeking behind his mother while his older sister was just right beside him. He quickly introduced himself to you, smiling despite lacking one upper front tooth, and inviting you if you want to play their wii station.

From there, you and Jungwon grew up together along with Jiwon. You assumed that you’ll be closer with Jiwon, playing dress-ups and dolls, but Jungwon always makes sure that you’ll get to play with him — which resulted in the two of you becoming best friends. He always clings to you, talks to you with the most random thoughts which usually catch you off-guard, and gives you the most random things just because it reminds him of you.

Your friendship with Jungwon didn’t stop when you returned to your original address during high school. You know that texts and chats won’t suffice, that’s why you begged your parents to continue your study at Decelis University’s high school department because you know that Jungwon is there — and you don’t want to be separated from him.

With the condition of maintaining good grades, your parents allowed you to study there. During high school, you and Jungwon were considered as a genius duo. Always on the top two of the whole department, but none of you see it as a rivalry. It’s more of a support to each other. He helps you with math and science, while you help him in history and language.

You two spend most of the time studying, frequently in his house or sometimes in a random coffee shop. It was tranquil, and you loved every moment with Jungwon. You considered him as your bestest friend, and you were looking forward to continuing it during college especially when both of you got accepted into Decelis University.

Then came your high school graduation. That moment was supposed to be a celebration for both of you. You were ranked second while Jungwon’s the valedictorian of the batch. Everything felt so right, not until Jungwon asked you for a favor.

“What are we doing here Jungwon?” you asked. The hallways were empty, students were inside the small convention hall of Decelis, lining up for the ceremony. Your parents will be here any moment and so are his, but Jungwon asked to accompany him — having to get something in their locker.

That’s how you two ended up inside your empty classroom, you stood there while Jungwon fiddled his locker. Opening it, grabbing something, and then as he faces you. Jungwon looks so nervous and you’re confused, never in your life would you see your best friend this nervous.

“I’m going straight to the point but I like you y/n, not as a best friend, but as a woman,” he confessed boldly. He then stretches his arms, showing you the object that he was holding: a small white paper bag with a delicate blue ribbon wrapped on the side. You eyed the logo of the paper bag and knew that it was an expensive jewelry brand.

“Jungwon —” you stopped. Words couldn’t get out of your mouth. Your heart starts beating fast because you don’t know what to say. You were flustered — surprised on top of that. You didn’t expect Jungwon to boldly confess to you.

You didn’t expect that Jungwon has feelings for you, or maybe he’s not subtle and you’re just too oblivious about it. That’s why you stood there frozen as you tried to stitch some words to say to Jungwon.

“I’m sorry Wonwon…” you managed to stutter. “But I can’t accept your feelings — my parents, they told me to focus on my studies first. They think relationships will just be a distraction.”

As those words fell from your mouth, Jungwon felt his ears ringing. Heart dropping as he slowly brings back the paperbag he was holding. He couldn’t believe what you just said to him.

Bullshit. Jungwon called it bullshit. He can feel his heart shattering into thousands of pieces as he processes every damn word that you said. You watched as the hopeful look on Jungwon’s face distorted in a confusion then slowly, his face became bitter and betrayed.

“I see how it is,” Jungwon bitterly laughs. “Really? That’s your reason? Alright, if that’s really your reason then prove it to me.”

Your forehead creased at his words, confused by Jungwon’s reaction. “Prove it to you — Jungwon, what are you talking about?”

“Prove it to me, show me that your reason really is the truth and now just some excuse,” Jungwon challenged.

“Are you seriously throwing away our friendship just because I rejected you?” you couldn’t believe it. Years of friendship all crumbled down just because you couldn’t reciprocate your feelings to him.

“Your reason is shallow y/n,” he pointed out instead. That’s when you realized that the Jungwon in front of you isn’t your best friend anymore. That the Jungwon in front of you was a guy who you just rejected but couldn’t accept.

You scoffed in disbelief, “shallow!? You’re the one who couldn’t accept that I rejected you!”

“And you’re going to regret rejecting me.” Jungwon warned with a serious tone. “Prioritizing studies? You think I’m going to believe that?”

“Think whatever you want Jungwon,” you snarled at him. “We’re done, I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.”

“Oh no, we’re not done yet,” Jungwon smirks at you. “We’re just getting started.”

Your years of friendship with Jungwon vanished that day. Ever since that day, Jungwon looks at you like a competition that he needs to beat — and he sticks true to his words.

You know how petty Jungwon can be. But you didn’t realise that he was that petty and prideful enough to challenge you. It even led him to transferring to the same college program as you which is legal management. You were surprised to see him in your classroom on the first day of class. You thought that he’ll stick with Physical Therapy but he chose the same program as yours just so he can prove to you that he’s serious about his words.

You weren’t going to take it seriously, but when the first debate was exchanged between the two of you a week into your freshman year, you decided to play along with his games.

It wasn’t those typical, my grades are higher than you so suck it up! type of rivalry. Both of you are equally intelligent, gpa and grades are always 1 never falling under 2. Jungwon doesn’t care if you aced an exam and he got three mistakes. What he cares about is competing with you at anything that will be worth your pride and academics.

Recitations, rankings, organizations and contests. Those are his targets. If you joined a club, he’s joining it too. If you’re joining a contest, he’s joining it too. He’ll argue with you at every chance he could get, he doesn’t care if it ends up illogical, all he wants to see is the pissed expression on your face as he never stops rebutting all your arguments.

The tallies of the winner and losers are always equal because you’re not one to back down either. You’re not going to let him win. After ruining your friendship, you want Jungwon to regret ruining his friendship with you.

No one was tallying but the first one to quit loses, and so far, no one has ever forfeited. Both of you are fueled with pride and intelligence, eager to prove the other party that they’re wrong. Everyone knows that tension between the two of you. Some are wary of it, but others brush it off, thinking that it’s just a stupid college rivalry — not knowing the history you two had.

The only thing that Jungwon didn’t join was the Decelis Publications because for once, he admits that he’s not that creative when it comes to writing articles. He’s not going to burn his creative juices in that area, so instead, he ventured on other things — which is joining a band.

During his freshman year, Jungwon was roped into joining a university band along with three of his seniors. Arcanum was created and they became widely popular during their years in Decelis. Jungwon was their drummer and it didn’t surprise you since Jungwon has always loved playing drums ever since he was a kid.

So while he’s out there making noise as a band member, you find peace in Decelis Publications. An area that only you can touch. A place where there is no Yang Jungwon breathing against your neck and you can move on your own. Everything about it was worth it especially when you were appointed as the paper’s Editor-in-Chief in your last year in college.

“Excuse me, you want me to do what?” you repeated, an offended look on your face was written.

“Not me, it was Ma’am Jo, she wants you to do an exclusive interview with Jungwon,” Minju, your best friend slash assistant editor of the publication repeated.

“I know Minju, but — are you serious!?” you whisper-shouted but Minju could only give you a knowing look. She knows about your rivalry with Jungwon, and she knows how much you hate that boy but the order came from the paper’s adviser.

No way. There’s no fucking way. You already interviewed Arcanum back then during the year-end concert. Why do the publications need to write an article about them — specifically Yang Jungwon.

“Listen, they’re popular now, they’re going to go mainstream especially when they’re gearing up for their debut single, every eyes is on them, and Jungwon, being the youngest and still in college, managed to multitask his studies and playing in a band, he’s the pride of Decelis at the moment.” Minju explains calmly.

“Wouldn’t that offend the other members who just happen to be ahead of him? Isn’t it better to just interview the whole group since all of them are from Decelis?” you justified, and Minju nods in agreement.

“You just don’t want to interview Jungwon alone, don’t you?” Minju laughs, making you roll your eyes.

“You know me Minju,” it’s the only thing you could say.

“Then, tell that to Ma’am Jo, I’ll think she’ll understand your reason,” your best friend suggested.

“She should or else I’ll have you interview them,” you threatened, leaving the club room with Minju laughing at your remark.

The walk towards the faculty room was short. Knocking on the door, all heads turned as you gave the teachers inside a smile and small greeting before approaching your adviser who focused on her laptop.

“Yes, y/n what is it dear?” Miss Jo brightly asked, beaming at you.

“Ma’am, regarding your request to interview Yang Jungwon,” you started.

She seems delighted with your words, “yes! What about it?”

“Why is he the focus of our article just because he’s still a Decelis student? Wouldn’t that be unfair for the other members of the band? They only graduated last year too,” you explained.

Miss Jo hums for a second, nodding as she seems to understand your sentiments. “Well, I only suggested Jungwon because he’ll be easier to be reached unlike the other three �� unless you have connections with them? My original plan was to cover their whole journey. Starting from being a university band up to where they are now. I’m a bit intimidated to reach the others, that’s why I only suggested Jungwon.”

“That’s a lot Ma’am,” you commented shortly.

“Yes, it’s a bit hectic too, that's why I suggested that you handle it, and just ask Jungwon a short interview — unless you know how to reach the whole band.”

“I can do that, I just want to ask for the deadline,” you asked, hoping that it won’t clash with the internship. You know that you can multitask but at the same time, priorities should also be ranked, and the internship is a huge deal for you.

“It’s up to you, just be there during their release of their single debut and their showcase, we’ll put them in the paper’s front page and we’ll post them on the university’s official page,” she explains.

“That seems to be a lot of work,” you mindlessly commented.

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask for merit points on your extracurriculars, how’s that sound?” she suggested.

“Deal,” you said without any hesitation.

As you exit the office, you lightly skip your way back towards the club room. It’ll be an easy task, you know someone who’s close to Arcanum and is willing to set up an interview with them. There’s no need to go through Jungwon because you know that he’ll immediately reject your request for the interview.

Good for him though, you don’t have any plans of involving him on your plan too.

The daycare center across the street of Decelis University was filled with noises and kids running on the playground. The afternoon’s windy and cool with dark gray clouds filling the place and yet, it didn’t bother you as you went inside one of the classrooms where she was waiting for you.

“Of course babe! When do you need it?” the older girl said with a smile. You watch as she cleans each table of her students, while you’re following her from behind.

Yang Jiwon — Jungwon’s older sister, has known Arcanum for years. The Yang residence used to be the band’s spot for practices during their college days and Jiwon had witnessed Arcanum starting from their humble beginnings.

When you and Jungwon broke up your friendship, Jiwon was the first person you ran into — despite knowing that Jungwon probably had run into her too. Jiwon was both your middle ground and pacifier. She fully understands both sides and instead of interfering, she lets you two play around the rivalry — hoping that one day, you two fully understand that you two have been dancing around your feelings instead of properly communicating.

Jiwon is still a close friend of yours. You were also there to witness her college love story that revolved around her delusional crush with Arcanum’s vocalist and how they eventually became a couple — which leads to where you are right now.

“As soon as possible, is it a busy week for them?” you asked.

“Just a couple of gigs, and band practices as far as I know, I’ll ask Hee,” Jiwon hums. “You know I was going to ask you why you approached me in reaching out for Arcanum when Jungwon’s there, but then again, never mind.”

You ignored the older girl’s teasing tone, rolling your eyes as you darted your attention somewhere else. “He won’t agree to it even if I approach him first.”

“Hey, why would he reject it? You know it’s big news that Decelis will cover their showcase, it’s rare for universities to support their students — it’s good exposure too, it’ll benefit both of you,” Jiwon pointed out.

“Because I’m writing it, it’s going to be under Decelis publications, which is being handled by me,” you explained.

“You and Jungwon’s rivalry,” Jiwon could only breathe. “Seriously, it’s been four years, you two aren’t going to call it quits? Have you ever thought of just giving up and properly explaining it to him? I graduated, got a job, and everything and you two are still fighitng.”

“Yeah, I think we both would rather die than properly communicate,” you shrugged, making Jiwon let out a sigh before grabbing her bag, and the two of you exit the classroom.

“What am I going to do to make you two go back to being friends,” she murmured, massaging her temples like it’s stressing her out.

“Nothing at all, so don’t worry about us,” you smiled, but the older girl didn’t buy it.

“I’m just scared y/n, that things might go too far,” Jiwon sincerely said.

You only laughed at her worries, “it won’t. It’s just an academic rivalry, plus I like the competition.”

“Enough to outweigh your feelings for him?”

You didn’t answer Jiwon. The whole minute of awkward silence was enough for her to not pry further and just continue walking. She knows that you’re holding back your feelings because of its irony. Up to this point you still won’t accept the fact that you had developed feelings for Jungwon even though he’s a jerk and ruined your friendship.

Jiwon knows your conflict and the only way to fix it is to tell Jungwon the truth but your pride says otherwise — there’s no use when you know that Jungwon doesn’t see you that way anymore.

A week later, Jungwon approaches you. He’s not even near your vicinity and yet you’re already aware of him and his intention to ruin your Monday.

“An interview with Arcanum, that’s so sweet of you, you know?” he coos and you only let out a gruntled sound.

“Did Jiwon tell you that?” you asked, not even raising your head to look at him.

“Not noona, but Heeseung-hyung did,” Jungwon pointed out, and that makes sense to you too. Jiwon had informed you that she had passed the message to her boyfriend, they agreed but last week they were swarmed with gigs, that's why they weren’t able to meet you. “Which hurts me because you know I’ll agree if you asked me to interview us.”

“I don’t want you shoving it to me that you did me a favor.” you justified. The last thing that you want is to be in debt to Jungwon.

“How about we drop that act and be professional on this one?” he offered, and that’s when you raised your hand. Glancing at him who only stood there with a small smile on his lips.

“Professional — you’re shitting yourself Jungwon? Since when did you even become professional with everything that involves me,” you mocked.

“Don’t you want it? I’m lowering myself down for you.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“I want to,” Jungwon insisted, his tone becoming serious. “How about this, you’ll get the full inside scoop of Arcanum’s preparation for our debut, even a free media pass for our showcase, but you have to make sure that it’ll give us good publicity.”

“What’s in for me?” you quickly interjected.

“I’m not going to participate in the internship,” Jungwon boldly said, and that made you raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be busy with Arcanum, our schedule and bookings are full by the end of the year, I might not be able to balance a heavy internship.”

“You really mean it?” you asked. You don’t know why but you felt something odd with Jungwon approaching you all of the sudden and striking a deal with you — like he didn’t just tell you, “may the best student wins.” last week. It’s like he has a deeper intention than what he proposed to you.

“It won’t even benefit me, it’s not like I’m going to continue taking law,” he casually shrugs. Right. You did remember that legal management wasn’t even his choice of career. “Do you even want it or not?”

“Fine,” you said in defeat, it’s not like you’ll immediately get the slot, but since Jungwon’s forfeiting it meant less competitors for you.

You raised your pinky finger and Jungwon only stared at it for a minute.

“What are you twelve?” he mocks.

“You know I take pinky promises Won,” you told him. “If you really mean it, swear it on me.”

Jungwon heaves out a sigh before intertwining his pinky finger on yours and touching your thumb with his thumb to secure the deal. As you broke out from his touch, you only gave him a small glare.

“Keep your promises Won,” you told him.

“When did I even break my promise?” he said, and you didn’t rebut because you know it yourself that Yang Jungwon doesn’t break promises.

You had prepared yourself for meeting Arcanum. Listening to their old songs, and asking Jiwon for some information about them. You wanted to make sure that you have a deep knowledge about the group before properly interviewing them.

Jungwon told you that he’ll let you know when the interview will be, but the following days there has been a radio silence. Classes continued. Quizzes, recitations, and small debates that always had your section witnessing your endless banters with Jungwon occured.

The internship for the Supreme Court was also posted on board, and it seems like the slots really are limited this time — only five and that’s for the whole one-hundred and fifty senior students under your program. Atty. Yoon had handed the requirements and while you had spare time, you completed everything that’s needed.

“Let’s go,” Jungwon said one fine Wednesday afternoon, startling you who’s still sitting in the chair.

“Don’t scare me like that,” you snarled at him.

“Come on now, you said you want a glimpse right? You’ll be joining us at our practice tonight,” Jungwon explains and that only made you roll your eyes.

“Fine, just a minute —”

“Faster, I don’t want to be stuck in the rush hour —”

“Damn it Jungwon, just wait!” you shouted at him who only had a teasing smile on his lips. He crossed his arms as you hurriedly shoved everything inside your bag before carrying it on your shoulder.

God you wonder how you’ll be able to spend the remaining day without Jungwon taunting you. You’ll probably go nuts before the article ends.

You followed Jungwon towards the parking lot where a familiar red car is parked. You know that car, you remember the first time Jungwon drove it and how you two almost ran over a cat crossing the street. Both of you were so traumatized that he didn’t drive it for a whole week — and he managed to overcome it when you stayed late at night in their place one time, and he offered to drive you back to your house instead of booking a car.

You hate how nostalgia is rushing through your mind especially when things aren’t the way it was before then. A bitter smile escapes your lips as you step inside the car. Everything is the same, even that nose-prickling strawberry scent is still there.

Jungwon didn’t teased further, he only opened the bluetooth speaker and played a song on shuffle before he drove away from the university in silence. Daydream Records — the label that took them in was thirty minutes away from Decelis, with additional ten minutes due to the rush hour traffic, you and Jungwon arrived at the building before the sun had set.

“What do you even want to know about us,” Jungwon asked the moment you two entered the elevator. “We’re barely starting with our career.”

“Everyone’s eyeing on your debut,” you only said leaning against the wall. “Stop being so humble, you know it yourself that Arcanum is getting popular.”

The elevator stopped and Jungwon exited first while you only followed him. Turning towards the right hallway before going inside a door. He opens the door without any hesitation and soft strums of keyboard welcome you.

“Hi guys,” Jungwon greeted casually.

“Hey —” Heeseung wasn’t able to finish his sentence when his eyes darted on you.

“This is y/n, Decelis publication’s editor-in-chief,” Jungwon introduces and you only gave them an awkward smile as their stare darted at you.

“Oh! Your so-called archnemesis,” Sunghoon spoked, grinning as he waves at you.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you chuckled. “I’m here to interview you guys and observe your daily routine before your showcase. If it’s your practice time, I won’t disturb you at all. I’ll just be here to watch you.”

“For the papers right? So glad that you were able to convince Jungwon to do this,” Heeseung jokes.

“We made a promise,” you nonchalantly replied. “If I wrote a bad article, blame it on him.”

“Woah, you really had Jungwon on chokehold,” Jay laughs, while the youngest couldn’t do anything but to glare at his bandmates.

“Since you’re here, want to hear our debut single? It’ll be released in two weeks, so consider yourself lucky that you’ll hear it before the whole country does,” Heeseung suggested, before he led you to sit on the couch nearby.

“So you’ll only be releasing a single?” you asked while you took a seat.

“Already on the interview part? Yeah, we want to check whether we’ll reach our target audience through our music, although some of our original songs are still on streaming sites, they can listen to it — but this one establishes our name in the mainstream,” Heeseung explains.

You only nod as you continue your conversations with them. They seem chill to talk with, like talking to a friend who’s a band member. After that short interview, they began practicing for their song.

Their debut single, “Helium” was ear-catching. Jay produced the song and out of all the fifteen songs they’ve composed, they opted for Helium since it’s catchy and it’s like starting their career with a bang. Jay and Heeseung eventually became the vocalists of the band, with Heeseung taking the main parts.

While Sunghoon and Jungwon remained on their instruments, the band was planning on making everyone sing on the l0ng run. They shared that all of them can sing — which surprises you.

“You don’t know? Jungwon can sing,” Sunghoon teases during their short break, taking it as an opportunity for you to ask questions again.

“I just haven’t heard him sing,” you answered.

“I guess, it’s time for Jungwon to sing,” Jay pats Jungwon’s shoulder who rolls his eyes.

“Keep on dreaming y/n,” he sticks his tongue out.

“I’m not requesting you to sing bitch,” you sassed.

“No fighting in this room so stop it you two,” Heeseung claps his hand, immediately stopping the fight before it could go longer. “Break time’s over, let’s go back to practice.”

The three of them stood up from their place and returned to their instruments, with Jungwon turning his back and giving you a middle finger, you scoffed in disbelief and did the same to him, even mouthing “fuck you.”

This is going to be a challenging article for you.

You’re not sure how you manage to hold on to your sanity everytime you’re with Arcanum — actually, it’s just Jungwon.

The article’s still in process. Miss Jo seems to be happy with the progress and has pitched some of her ideas. You’ve interviewed the members one by one then as a group. The three older members were easy to interview with. Casual and fun to talk with. They’re very passionate with the band even though none of them took music as a college program. It amazes you how their passion outweighs everything.

While Jungwon? Jungwon’s making it hard for you. He’s there with his smug grin and arms crossed as he tilts his head teasingly while you’re trying your best to give him questions about his journey as Arcanum’s drummer.

Professional my ass.

Your phone recorder had witnessed your hour long banter with him. Even the snarky remarks and name calling was there. Of course you’re not going to transcribe that in the papers, you’ll get suspended. Still, it frustrates you that Jungwon’s making it hard for you.

“What happens to being a professional?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I am being professional,” he shrugs.

“Sure because answering “it’s cool” and “i’m having fun” to my questions is professional,” you sarcastically replied.

“Well, I’m a man of few words,” Jungwon smiled, and there it was — that shit-eating grin.

“Okay, fine, that’s how you want it? I’ll take note of that,” you said before standing up. “I think I’m done for today, just tell your bandmates I’ve left.”

“Already? You’re easy to give up y/n,” he mocked, and you only rolled your eyes.

“I have to prepare for the internship,” you reasoned out. “My life isn’t all about the article just so you know.”

“Oh, I thought your life revolved around our rivalry.”

“Maybe it’s you who’s revolving around it, since you started it.”

“And yet, you’re not backing out of it.”

“Jerk.”

“Only for you.”

You didn’t answer Jungwon, but instead you made your way out of the room, halting your walk mid-way when you felt your phone vibrating. Your pent-up frustrations died a bit when you saw that it was your mother who’s calling.

“Hey mom,” you greeted.

“Hi sweetie, how are you? I’m just checking on you because it’s been a while since you called,” she started with a worried tone.

You heaved out a sigh. All the stress and workload had made you forget to make a call to your parents. “I’m fine ma, I’m at outside at the moment, I just finished an interview with Arcanum —”

“Oh! Jungwon’s band! How is he? Is he still there?” your mother asked excitingly.

You only closed your eyes before smiling bitterly. “No ma, I mean — I just finished the interview and I’ll be going home now, I have to finish the requirements for the internship, you know, the one for the supreme court.”

“Have you ever thought about your aunt’s offer? It’s a good deal y/n,” your mother changes the topic suddenly.

“Ma, it’s too far, I can’t, it’ll be a huge adjustment for me,” you argued. There it is again. Your mother has been bugging you about your career decisions. Your aunt was also a lawyer, but she’s currently residing in the states. She was nice to give you a scholarship under their firm, along with an internship. The offer was huge and it’ll even give you a bigger stepping stone to your dream.

But it was too soon. Too rash for you and as much as it’s a huge opportunity, you find it hard to leave everything behind in a short time.

“But we will be there y/n, you’re not going to be alone, we’re here to support you,” she softly said and that assured you, but still.

“I know that ma, but I’m just not ready to leave yet,” you only said.

“Oh that’s right, you couldn’t leave Jungwon alone,” she laughed and that made you wince. “But the offer is still open y/n, I asked your aunt to send you details through your email, looked into it okay?”

“Okay ma,” the call ended and you only laughed ironically at how your parents still think that you and Jungwon are still friends. Oh well. Things are better unexplained.

“Hey y/n,” that’s when you turned to your left, noticing that the other Arcanum members were there. That’s when you remembered where you are right now, hopefully, they weren’t able to hear your call with your mother.

“I just finished my interview with Jungwon,” you lied, smiling awkwardly at them. “I’ll be going now, bye guys!”

You didn’t even let them bid you goodbye, you hurriedly went past them and went straight to the elevator, confusing the three but they had a small hunch.

The moment they returned to the room, Jungwon stared at them innocently.

“What?” he asked, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Jungwon, come on take this seriously,” Heeseung reprimanded.

“If she seriously wrote us in a bad light, we’re blaming you,” Jay pointed out and it only made the younger boy laugh.

“She won’t, don’t worry,” Jungwon assured.

“Okay, but you shouldn’t make it hard for her,” Heeseung shared. “I get that you guys have some rivalry, but in the end, she’ll be the one who’ll get in trouble if she won’t be able to pass the article before the deadline.”

“You’re nagging me aren’t you?” the youngest only said.

“Just — don’t make it hard for her to do her job,” Heeseung added, patting Jungwon's shoulder lightly. “You’re too old for this childish shit Jungwon.”

“Yeah, holding onto a grudge won’t bring you good too,” Sunghoon added.

“You guys worry too much,” Jungwon commented.

“Don’t give her a hard time Jungwon,” Jay crosses his arms. “We didn’t mean to pry but we heard her call earlier with her mom, she seems to be going through something.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t know the context,” Heeseung answered. “But for her sake, don’t give her more stress, can you?”

“Fine.” it was the only thing Jungwon could say. Mind filled with curiosity about your call with your mother.

You’re all alone inside the club room.

You’ve been staring at your laptop for a few minutes. The tab of your microsoft word where your article is is left untouched. You’re deep in thoughts as you stare at the email that your aunt sent you a few days ago. Fingers tapping on the mousepad as your mind becomes afloat.

Decisions are being made inside you, weighing the pros and cons, and internally, all you wanted was a sign.

And as if, someone heard your prayers. A knock on the door echoed inside the whole room. Startled, you immediately close your tab before turning around to see Jungwon standing in front of the door.

“Do you need anything?” you asked with a serious tone.

“I’m just here to inform you that the showcase will be next Friday,” Jungwon said. “Heeseung hyung will be giving you a media pass, you can bring another one too. Ma’am Jo has a separate one because she’s handling the livestream.”

“Alright,” you only nod.

“How’s the article,” he asked, sounding more genuine than usual.

“It’s great actually,” you replied with a casual tone.

Jungwon didn’t stop despite the whole fiasco.

The good thing was that his members were there during his solo interview. Watching him like a hawk that he was left with no choice but to answer your questions properly. Thank God they subtly helped you or else you might just have to write him out of the article.

Days passed and your articles almost finished. All you need is the coverage of their debut showcase — at a small theater hall yet it sold out in minutes. Highlighting their popularity and the public’s anticipation of their debut.

“The internship?” he asked, sounding curious rather than mocking.

“Interview’s will be at the end of the month,” a week after the showcase. It’ll give you more time to prepare for it. You’ve already submitted your resumè to them, along with the required documents. All you needed was to prepare for the interview.

Somehow you couldn’t help but to feel nervous about it. Even though Jungwon, your biggest rival, isn't going to participate, the chances of you getting picked are still small. That’s why you’re eager to finish the article so that you can focus on preparing for the interview.

“Good luck to you,” he said, making you glance at him.

With his smile, you felt a faint skip on your heart. You can feel your cheeks heating up as the two of you stood there in silence.

“Make sure to get the slot so that my promise won’t go to waste,” he added and that immediately crashes your assumptions about his words.

You only rolled your eyes as you focused on your laptop screen. “Can you even be genuine for once, Yang Jungwon?”

“You really want that from me?” he asked, and there’s a bitter tone on it that made you realise.

“Right,” you only chuckled, remembering that you and Jungwon are still rivals despite helping each other. “If you don’t need anything else, you can leave now.”

“They heard your phone call with your mom,” Jungwon started, halting your actions. You knew what he was talking about. “You had a fight with her?”

“That’s none of your business,” you answered him back.

“You never fought with her,” Jungwon pointed out.

“Maybe they should’ve added more context about my call,” you said with an annoyed tone. “I just haven’t called her in weeks, that’s why she called me worried.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so there’s nothing going on with me at the moment,” you glanced at him. “Don’t act like you’re suddenly concerned for my well-being, Jungwon.”

For a moment, the two of you only stood there in silence. Jungwon didn’t move. He only stared at you who’s eyebags are heavy underneath the glasses. You’re not really great at hiding everything, and even with snarky remarks of yours, Jungwon still won’t buy that excuse.

But who is he even anyway? Jungwon remembers that there’s no use of him being concerned about you, it’ll only leave him confused — and so do you. So he only turned around and left. The door closes and it reminds you that your friendship with Jungwon had been gone for long — and no amount of redemption and battles of wit would ever mend it.

You opened the mail tab once again, staring at it — the opportunity and the final step towards achieving your dreams. It’s right there in front of you. It’s chasing after you and it’s appalling because it’s begging for you and not the other way around. You’re just playing hard-to-get in this game.

But you know that you’re not ready for a big change. That’s why you shut down your laptop instead. Choices are being thunked as you exit the club room, walking towards the empty hallway as you make your way outside the building.

You were welcomed by the golden sky, and you only smiled at the sky because you’ve been used to it as someone who’s been in Decelis since her high school days. It feels hard to say goodbye to it. You thought as you started walking towards the university gate.

You didn’t even notice Jungwon’s who’s sitting by a nearby bench. Watching you disappear from his sight. Mind still bugged about you and what’s going on with your life.

“Jungwon!” his thoughts disappeared when a tap on the shoulder startled him.

“Don’t scare me like that!” he snarled at his friends who laughed at his reaction.

“We’ve been calling you from afar but you’re busy ogling at y/n,” Sunoo teased, glancing at the direction where you went.

“You know we still have a lot of months for our senior year, it’s not too late to talk to her,” Riki suggested.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jungwon replied sharply.

“Still in denial I see,” the taller man laughs.

“Not in denial,” Jungwon refuted. “I just don’t see why there’s a need to.”

“Why, afraid of getting rejected again?” Sunoo rolls his eyes. “You know, if you swallow your pride and be persistent to her, maybe the second time’s the charm, you know?”

“Not going to follow you Sunoo.”

“Okay fine, hold onto your pride, but who has a girlfriend between the three of us?” Sunoo smirks, and the other two groans in response.

“You two don’t have a label yet!” Riki justified, and the three of them only laughed as they decided to leave their place and find a place to eat dinner.

The theater hall is bustling with people. Fans, media, and reporters are busying themselves as the showcase will start around six in the evening.

You sat on your designated seat beside Minju who served as the paper’s photographer. She’s busy fixing her camera’s settings while you only sit there, waiting for it to start.

The first segment will be the interview. An hour segment wherein they’ll be answering questions from the press and their fans. While the other half will be their performance. It’ll run for an hour and a half along with a short hi-touch for the fans. Just like what they’ve told you.

You’re busy doodling on your notebook while Minju quietly captures the stage. Slowly, the place is getting crowded. Miss Jo is beside the tech booth along with some general staff, preparing for the livestream.

The program started exactly at six. The crowd became loud and flashes of camera started to flicker as the mc of the showcase announced the arrival of Arcanum.

One by one, they entered the stage, wearing casual and sporty attire. They’re also wearing light makeup and heavy accessories — their usual get-up whenever they have a gig. The screams became louder, almost like whistles of whales, and it shows that they’re currently a fan sensation.

“Wow, they all look so handsome,” Minju said and you only nod at her words. They’re all visually-appealing, which is one of the reasons why they can easily attract fans.

“Hello, we are Arcanum,” Heeseung leads the greeting, waving at the crowd enthusiastically before introducing themselves one by one. As they busy themselves with their greetings and introduction, you open your laptop where you have access on Decelis Publication’s social media page, preparing for a live update and multitasking on writing short captions about them.

They started the interview lightheartedly. Sharing their thoughts and journey starting as a university band to an independent one, and eventually, signing under a label, everyone expressed their sentiments and how they’re honored that their label took them in and hone their talent.

They also mention their goals and expectations this year, Jay wished to have their own solo concerts while Heeseung wanted to meet their fans all over the country. The question then darted to Jungwon who’s still finishing his studies, the boy only smiled at the question.

“Time management is the key, also it’s not only me who’s studying, Sunghoon hyung is doing it too,” Jungwon answered. The mc noted that their dedication and discipline is on the next level especially when their college program is far from their current career.

“Always choose your passion, that’s what strives us to work harder,” Sunghoon added.

“Actually, none of us took music as a college program,” Heeseung shared with a laugh. “But after Jay and I graduated last year, the four of us talked about our future deeply and we realized that we couldn’t let go of Arcanum, that’s why we’re here.”

“And you guys made the right decision,” the mc said genuinely, making the four smile.

They continued the segment, changing the topic about their music, their debut single, and old songs. The members were able to answer the questions with sense and well-thought, sharing the process in their music composition and how they find inspiration on writing lyrics.

Eventually, they moved onto the segment where they can answer their fan’s questions. The staff pulled a whiteboard with tons of sticky notes stuck to it, surprising the group with the amount of questions they received.

“How did Arcanum form?” It was the first question Heeseung picked, which surprised them.

“We haven’t told anyone this one right?” Jay shared, and the other two agreed.

“To start, Jay and I met during freshman orientation, we became close because we learned that we love playing guitar and singing. We actually tried joining Decelis Chorale but we got rejected,” Heeseung started, laughing at his freshman self who was deflated when he didn’t get to be part of the chorale.

“So out of spite, we thought that we should form a band, but we need to recruit members,” Heeseung added.

“While Sunghoon has been an acquaintance of mine since our parents knew each other, we met again in Decelis and I asked if he still plays the piano and he doesn’t anymore but he rekindled it when I asked him that,” Jay added. “Sunghoon was interested in playing in a band, so it’s slowly coming into pieces, we just need someone who plays the drums and Jungwon popped out of nowhere.”

“Jay hyung posted an instagram story asking if there’s any Decelis student who’s interested in playing drums, I thought it was just a one time thing but now I’m stuck with these useless hyungs,” Jungwon jokes, making the whole theater laugh.

“We were sophomores back then while Jungwon’s still a freshman, we tried practicing our chemistry together and it worked, we performed the first time at The Rabbit Hole and there, Arcanum was born,” Sunghoon stated.

“And here you are guys,” the mc concluded.

Heeseung only smiles, “right, here we are now.”

After the question, they moved to another one. Jay picks a random one and as he reads it, he laughs at the question.

“Oh this is interesting, what is the member’s ideal type,” Jay shared, earning screams from the fans.

“Seems like everyone’s curious, who knows maybe their lucky girl is someone from the audience,” the mc teases, making the crowd scream louder. You only laughed at their reaction, looking at each other, they’re probably contemplating on whether they’ll expose their relationship or not.

“Who should go first? Jay? Since you picked it?” the mc gestured, and Jay only hums for a moment.

“For me, my ideal type would probably be someone who’s confident and has a kind heart,” he smiled and tons of screams filled the place.

“Anyone that comes to your mind?” Heeseung asked, and the screams became louder. Jay only laughed before he looked at the vocalist.

“How about you tell us your type Heeseung,” Jay changes the topic instead.

“My type?” Heeseung thinks about it for a minute, even though there’s someone on his mind right now. “My type is someone who’s mature and independent, but at the same time, I want to take care of her too.”

“That’s cute, it’s like you want her to be dependent on you,” the mc complimented, and Heeseung could only shyly nod. “How about you Sunghoon?”

“Mine is someone who’s hard-working and goal oriented, a little hard-headed but she’s cute when she’s too stubborn,” Sunghoon smiles.

“That’s oddly specific hyung, it’s like you’re describing someone,” Jungwon commented.

“He is actually describing someone,” Jay teases, and Sunghoon’s smile never fades as he looks at Jungwon.

“It’s your turn Jungwon, tell us your ideal type,” the keyboardist asked.

“My type?” Jungwon asked, grinning before he looked at the audience.

And for a minute, you’re sure that you and him made eye contact for a second. He smiles before shifting his gaze back to the crowd.

“I like someone who can put up with me,” he explains. “Someone that I can consider as my other half.”

“Yeah, we know someone who can put up with you,” Heeseung commented, and before you could even react Minju’s slapping your shoulder, scowling at her.

“What the fuck Minju,” you whispered-shout to her.

“Don’t deny it bitch, he’s talking about you!” your best friend teases, the same way Jungwon’s friends are teasing him on the stage.

“And? I’m not going to jump into it,” you rolled your eyes, but Minju’s laughter still lingered.

The segment continued on. The questions were random, like ranking their visuals or what they do if they weren’t in the band. You only follow through their interview as you tap away on your laptop, until they wrapped the interview and they went backstage to change.

A five minute break was given, which gave you subtle time to stretch your legs. You looked at Miss Jo’s message and she was happy because there’s a lot of engagement about Arcanum’s showcase. You searched for her at the tech booth, and as you made eye contact with her, your adviser only smiled and gave you a thumbs up.

Arcanum returned with their outfit changed, earning cheers from the crowd as they went to their respective places. It means that their performance showcase will start.

On Heeseung’s cue, he raises his right arm, a silent countdown to three, and the first strike on his guitar made the crowd scream loudly. You only sat there, astonished how they can control the crowd with such ease.

Each member has their own charisma. It’s hard to not focus on just one member, but your eyes always end up on Jungwon who’s behind Heeseung, in his little world with his drums, playing along with the beat as their vocalist sings his heart out.

He’s truly born to perform on stage. You thought as your hands typed the sentence on your word file, eyes never leaving him.

They started with some of their old songs like “XO” and “Give me your forever.” They also covered a few songs, old covers that they’ve done back then.

They end their showcase with “Helium.” Everyone was screaming their hearts out. Heeseung and Jay were a great duo and their voices complemented each other. After the end of the song, they proceed to the center and do a final bow as a sign of gratitude. Waving goodbye to their fans before they move to another hall room where the hi-touch will be held.

You watched as one by one, everyone left the hall. You and Minju stayed there for a moment, not wanting to squeeze yourself at the crowd. You and Minju were busy looking at the photos she captured when you felt your phone vibrating.

“Hey Jiwon, what’s up?” you asked as soon as you answered the phone.

“You’re still in the theater hall? We're backstage, you want to carpool with us?” she asked.

“If there’s space sure, I’m with Minju by the way,” you answered.

“Of course she can come — oh right! We’re having a house party at our place after this, want to come?” Jiwon said with excitement.

You glanced at Minju before separating your phone from your ears. “Hey, they’re having a house party at Jiwon’s place, you want to come?”

“Yeah I’m good, but can we please change our outfits? I want to look presentable,” Minju begs. She was wearing a baggy shirt and black slacks, a semi-formal combination which made you chuckle softly.

“Yeah, I think I need to take a short shower too,” you commented before returning to Jiwon. “Hey, we’ll just meet you at the party, I need to take a short shower while Minju wants to drop her camera at our dorm.”

“Alright, just let me know if you guys are on your way, the party’s exclusive, so a pass is required.” and with that, she hangs up. You let out a small chuckle before glancing at Minju.

“Let’s go have dinner first, I’m kinda starving,” you suggested as you two decided that it’s not crowded for you to leave.

“Yeah, so do I — anyways, let’s just drink moderately tonight.” Minju added, in which you agreed.

True to Jiwon’s words, the party was indeed exclusive.

You’ve noticed the small crowd of people outside. Some are complaining how the party is for “Decelis Students” only. You didn’t even know that there was a party not until an hour ago. The details were probably given in secret.

You’ve texted Jiwon earlier that you’re on your way to their place. As you reached their gate, she was standing outside, holding her phone. You called out her name hoping that it’ll reach her despite the loud noise inside.

Jiwon immediately notices you and smiles, approaching you two, and giving you and Minju a hug.

“I’m glad that you two are here!” she excitedly said, eyeing you and Minju. “Nice outfit by the way.”

You only gave her your thanks as she ushered you two inside their house — and there it was.

A party to celebrate Arcanum’s debut. A house party filled with loud music, alcohol, and heat. The decorations were on point. Neon lights filled the place along with some balloons and party strings. You know that their parents are always away, so it’s not a surprise that they manage to throw a house party.

“You really went all out Jiwon,” you told her, who only smiled as you followed her towards the kitchen where the food and drinks were placed.

“Cocktails? Beers? What do you want? Food? We have pizza and chicken poppers too!” the older girl excitedly said, making you glance at Minju.

“We’ll have the beer, thank you so much,” Minju only said. Jiwon grabs some cold bottles from the cooler, opening it for the two of you.

“Arcanum will perform around eight, you guys can wander anywhere and I’ll give you guys the privilege to go upstairs, just tell Sunoo and Jake that you’re with me,” Jiwon winks before leaving you two there alone.

You and Minju decided to just stay in the kitchen, stuffing yourself with food and beer while talking about the most random topics that you two could ever think about while judging the strangers passing by. Despite being an exclusive party, the place was still pretty crowded.

Suddenly, the music stopped in the middle of your conversation. Both you and Minju glanced at the living room when you heard screaming from the crowd.

“Hey Decelis, we’re back,” a familiar voice echoed through the huge house. That’s when you and Minju decided to go to the living and there they were.

Set up in the middle of the living room was Arcanum. A smile on their face as they greet their fellow students. They’re met with nostalgia and fulfillment as they stand in front of the crowd.

“First of all, let me just give you all a short trivia about Arcanum and this place,” Heeseung started. “Let’s just say this place holds a lot of memories for our band. This place served as a space for us to practice our gigs and songs. Not only that, we laughed, cried, composed songs, and got passed-out drunk in this place. So it’s right that we celebrate our debut with a homecoming party here.”

A few “awww” and claps enamored in the crowd, they were cheering for Arcanum and the members only smiled at the thought that there’s an overwhelming support from their alma mater.

They all feel fulfilled. From performing earlier at the theater hall up to performing in front of their schoolmates inside the house that served as their practice room for years, the band couldn’t help but to be grateful for everyone.

“Yeah, yeah, enough with the sappy shits, we’re here to party!” Jay interrupted, and the first strum of his electric guitar earned cheers from the crowd. They immediately controlled the crowd with a familiar song that hit the students with nostalgia.

You and Minju only stood there watching them despite having to watch them earlier at the showcase. Compared to their performance back then, the Arcanum in front of you is much more laid-back. Chill and free like it’s just their typical gig at The Rabbit Hole. It made sense that they’re more free when it’s just them performing in front of their fellow students.

Your eyes focused on Jungwon who’s too focused with the drums. Eyebrows scrunched yet expression laid back as he syncs along the beat, heavy and loud making him tilt his head upwards like he’s feeling the music.

“I want you guys to sing along!” Heeseung shouted before he started singing the chorus. The crowd follows him, even Minju was screaming along the lyrics while you stood there, eyes never taking Jungwon off.

The heavy feeling of seeing him earlier at the showcase, debuting as a musician, you couldn’t help but to feel a soft hitch on your heart. He’s out there finally achieving your dreams while you’re still far away from yours.

You’re not thinking about your rivalry with him at those moments. All you knew was that your heart was screaming how much you’re proud of him. Despite all the chaos you had to endure of interviewing the band the past few weeks, you couldn’t help but feel a small win — their article also felt like a big break for you.

That’s why for once you let loose. You sang along to their songs, danced along with Minju, and drank as much beer as your tolerance could handle. It’s not surprising that you ended up a little bit tipsy by the end of Arcanum’s performance. Everyone was applauding for them as they took a final bow before greeting the crowd.

You and Minju decided to escape the crowd, the music started once again and the living room’s became pretty too crowded, partygoers had entered more than what it’s capacitated, so you and Minju went back to the less crowded kitchen to stuff yourself some food once again while talking about Arcanum’s performance.

“I’m glad that we went here,” Minju said, making you glance at her. “Yeah me too,” you only smiled.

“We seldom have time to party, and now that we’re going to be much busier this year, I don’t know if I can handle more,” Minju started, making both of you fall into silence.

“Right, it’s going to be a hard year huh?” you laughed, making your best friend laugh too. Minju only raised her beer and so you clanked your beer against her before chugging it until the last drop.

“Should we try their mysterious cocktail drinks?” Minju suggested, eyeing on the huge pitcher towers that’s color red and blue.

“Why not?” you agreed, grabbing clean red cups and pouring you two some drinks.

“Minju, hey,” the two of you turned when someone tapped your best friend’s shoulder, only to see a co-senior of yours, you forgot his name, but he looked nervous, almost embarrassed by the thought of standing in front of you two.

“Hi,” your best friend greets, you can see how Minju’s expression softens, almost blushing — you raise an eyebrow as you observe them.

“Uhm…can we talk? Maybe somewhere not noisy?” he mustered up the courage and you almost laughed on the spot because of how he stumbled on his own words.

“Well,” Minju glances at you, and you immediately catch it.

“It’s okay! Go on, I’ll be here Minju, or maybe upstairs, just text me okay?” you assured.

“You sure?”

“Babe, I know this place like the back of my hand, I’ll be safe here,” you assured, then you leaned against her and quietly handed her a sharp knife keychain you keep in your pockets. “Just making sure you’re safe.”

Minju only smiles at you before agreeing to him. You watched as Minju leaves with the boy. He seems to be really interested in her, so you let it be. Smiling because it might be your best friend’s potential love life.

It left you standing there awkwardly by the kitchen counter, sipping on the mysterious cocktail that tastes like sweetened pineapple with a tequila aftertaste. For a moment, you let the silence engulf you, too much overwhelmed by the crowd in the living room but when silence has been too noisy for you, that’s when you decided to step out of the kitchen — only to be bumped by someone.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes widened in surprise before a smile formed on your lips, “oh my god, Dohoon! How are you?” you excitedly said as you hugged Dohoon who only reciprocates your action.

“Good, all good, how about you Ms. Editor-in-Chief?” he smiled as the two of you broke out of the hug.

“Well I’m doing great too, Mr. Soccer Team Captain,” you teased back.

“I can’t believe that this is where we’ll see each other,” Dohoon said in disbelief and you only nod.

“Yeah, me too,” you only said, smiling at him as you took a sip from your cup.

You decided to stay inside the kitchen to accompany Dohoon who ditches his friend in the living room because he was hungry. You two ended up catching up after years of not seeing each other, which is funny because you two go to the same university but never saw each other. But it feels nice to hear how he has been, and it relieves you that he managed to save you from the awkward loneliness inside the party.

You’re too busy talking to Dohoon that you failed to notice that Jungwon has been standing from afar, watching as you and Dohoon laughed and talked to each other like you two didn’t have a past.

His sight darkens. Jungwon couldn’t believe that you had the guts to do it in his house. His eyes blinding with jealousy as the red cup on his hand tightens, almost spilling juices on his hands.

Jungwon gulps the cocktail from his cup, hoping that his jealousy might be washed off from the thirst, while his eyes never left yours — stomach knotting in an indescribable yet annoying feeling.

Jungwon knows he doesn’t have the right to feel that way, but he can't help it when his feelings have a strong control over him. He even tried to look away, but when he noticed from his peripheral vision that Dohoon leaned against you, his feet moved out of instinct.

“Excuse me —” you two stopped when Jungwon stood in front of you two. “You two are in the way.”

Dohoon was the first one to realise that you two are by the cocktail counter. “Oh, sorry about that dude, congrats on your debut by the way.”

“Thanks,” Jungwon only said, not even batting an eye at the other male.

“Rude,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What’s rude is that you two are on the way to the cocktail counter,” Jungwon fumed.

Dohoon seems to be taken back by Jungwon’s tone. Not trying to push further, he only gives you a small smile before he said, “it’s good to see you y/n again, let’s catch up sometime? Maybe have some tacos and burritos?”

“Just like before? Of course!” you excitedly said.

“Great, great, just set the date, and we’ll make it work,” Dohoon smiles before he bids goodbye to you. You waved back at him and as you watched him disappear into the crowd, Jungwon laughed mockingly which made you glare at him.

“You’re not a great host aren’t you?” you mocked Jungwon.

“And you’re flirting at my house,” Jungwon pointed out, taking a sip on his cup. “This is my party, you know? Why are you even here?”

“Jiwon invited me, you think I went here for you? Keep dreaming Won.”

“Well, I was hoping that you’ll show a little gratitude for me since I saved your ass by letting you interview the band for your article.”

“Oh right, almost forgot that, now if you excuse me, I’ll go look for Heeseung and thank him for agreeing with the interview.” you sarcastically replied, and before you could move, Jungwon had cornered over you.

Your heart started beating fast, surprised that Jungwon’s almost an inch closer to your face. His eyes were dark and glaring, and you only stood there, not knowing where to go as the counter against your back was cold.

“Can’t believe you have the audacity to flirt with that guy,” he blurted out and his words struck you.

“Holy shit, are you jealous Yang Jungwon?” you snickered, smiling devilishly. “Why would you even be jealous of Dohoon? You don’t have the right to be jealous of him,” dainty fingers pointing at his chest until you shove him out of the way — and surprisingly, he lets you be.

You exit the kitchen, ignoring Jungwon’s stabbing glare, as you enter the overcrowded living room. There weren’t enough to even pass by. Hot, sweaty bodies stuck together like glue, touching your arms and making you wince as you excuse yourself from the crowd. Some were still sane to give way while others were too rough to care.

“Shit!’ you cursed as someone’s drinks spilled on your blouse, they didn’t even notice that they bumped into you, probably too intoxicated. The cold, sticky alcohol spread on your body made you groan in annoyance.

You managed to squeeze your way out of the crowd, just one second of bursting out of frustration because it was your favorite blouse, now it’s stained with red juice and it’ll be hard for you to remove it.

“Oh my god, y/n are you okay?” you didn’t notice Jiwon approaching you, eyes glued on your disastrous blouse.

“Yeah, the crowd's too rough and someone spilled on me,” you only replied, not even batting an eye at them.

“Go borrow some clothes from my closet, you can stay there too if you want I don’t mind,” she suggested, and you only nod to her words.

“Thank you Jiwon.” you defeatedly said.

“No worries! I saw Minju is still talking with some guy outside, want me to tell her your whereabouts?” she offered and you only shook your head, not wanting to ruin your best friend or Jiwon’s night.

You climbed upstairs, greeting the guys that were there. You’re familiar with them and they seem to know that you’re close with the Yang siblings so they let you further down the hallway.

You went inside Jiwon’s room. The walls painted baby pink and clean, smelling like the floral perfume she wears, and the silence only made you heave out a relieved sigh.

You began unbuttoning your blouse, discarding it and going towards the small bathroom inside her room. Washing off the stickiness that stuck on your skin as your eyes darted on your white bra, stained with red juice too. Great. Not only your favorite blouse is ruined, but also one of your newly-bought bras too.

As you exit the bathroom, you jump out a mile when you see Jungwon sitting on Jiwon’s bed. Turning around and looking at you — noticing how his eyes darted down on your chest.

“What the fuck — get out!?” you shouted, covering your bra but Jungwon seems to be unfazed by it.

“Quit acting like I didn’t see you in a bikini top,” Jungwon teased.

You only rolled your eyes, “yeah that was five years ago when we were still friends — what the fuck are you even doing here? Get the hell out?”

Jungwon tilts his head amusingly, “we’re in our house, I can do anything I want.”

“Jungwon, seriously, get out or —”

“Here,” he said, and in a split second you managed to catch the thing he threw — a shirt of his. You only stare at it, cheeks heating up as you find the gesture sweet.

“You okay? You look like you’re about to cry earlier,” Jungwon said with a teasing tone, and the flustered feeling was immediately replaced with annoyance.

“If you’re here to make fun of me, just get out,” you said. Throwing his shirt on the floor and going towards Jiwon’s closet. You opened the door where hundreds of shirts are folded neatly, you chose to pick up the first one on top when you felt a figure hovering over you.

“Jungwon,” you warned, feeling his body way too close to yours. “Whatever you’re doing, fuck off.”

“You’re the one who’s assuming that I’ll do something,” Jungwon taunted, and slowly, he leaned down near your ear. “If you want me to, you’ll have to beg for it.”

You only rolled your eyes, but you can’t deny that there’s a heavy tension between the two of you. Jungwon’s right arm stretches on the side, trapping you one-sided which means he’s giving you the chance to walk away.

But you didn’t. You stood there frozen as you clutched on the shirt tightly. Deep inside the fire’s burning, your curiosity is fighting your pride along with your yearning. A simple touch from him, and you’ll feel like your knees will weaken.

“Beg?” you mockingly asked, turning around to face him with a prideful expression. “I’d rather die than to beg.”

“But you’re blushing babe,” Jungwon pointed out and that’s when you pushed him away. Large strides going towards the door when the male pushes it close. You didn’t even stand a chance against his strength.

“Come on, I’m just playing with you,” and you don’t know what’s got into Jungwon, all you know is that he reeks of alcohol and probably tipsy with his words. He’s close again. Way too close. And that only hitches your breath. Heart beating fast as the tension between you grew heavier.

“What do you even want, Jungwon,” you shouldn’t have said, you know what it meant. An invitation, a rhetorical question because both of you know where it leads.

“You.”

You froze there when his lips landed on the side of your neck. Nibbling and leaving trails of his soft lips, both of his hands made their way to your waist, holding onto your soft skin as you held onto your breath.

“I’m not going to play with your games Jungwon,” you only said, eyes closing as you pray internally that he leaves you be.

“Who said I’m playing with you?” he taunted between his kisses.

“You just fucking said it earlier.” you said with gritted teeth.

“And what if I’m serious right now?” Jungwon answered with a serious tone.

You weren’t able to say anything, you only stood there as Jungwon’s lips continued playing around your shoulder area.

“You want this too, you know?” he smirks behind you. “Because if you really don’t, you would’ve pushed me away. Cursed me, and left me hard and wanting for you.”

You didn’t answer his words, because he’s right — you’re just too prideful to admit it. You let him be, let his hands explore your body and lips leave marks on your skin.

You don’t know what happened, but the next thing you knew, he turned you around and his lips were on yours.

Hungry. Craving. Jungwon’s devouring your lips like he’s been thirsting it for years. The years of his lingering feelings for you all burst out that night.

And so was yours. Because you kissed him back. Your lips locked on that infuriating asshole who used to be your other half now turned rival in everything because fuck, you’ve been yearning for it too.

Your heart and mind were battling each other while your lips produced soft noises against Jungwon’s. Everything about it feels wrong, especially when you shouldn’t be going down with him.

You should’ve pushed him away, cursed at his face and left the place — but instead, your hands found its way on Jungwon’s hair, tugging on it harshly as his lips bites down on your lower lips, sucking at the skin while his hands squeezed your waist tighter.

“In the end, you’ll give in too,” Jungwon smirks, both hands lifting you as he carries you towards the bed. Slamming you down with a soft thud, back hitting against the mattress while Jungwon quickly crawled over you, pulling you to another aggressive kiss as his knees pushed in between your thighs.

“Fuck you Jungwon,” you could only breathe.

“We’ll get to that babe,” Jungwon taunted before he pressed his lips against yours once again.

Eyes closed, you lost yourself to Jungwon as the male started exploring your body. Rough, calloused hands feeling every exposed skin of yours until it drafts on your face, cupping your jawline as he separates from your lips.

His lips trailed down on your neck, tilting your head for space as he began sucking the soft skin of yours. A breathy moan escapes your lips as Jungwon never stopped. Neck, collarbone, and even above your chest. Until everything is purple and marked like he has always wanted to do you for years.

“Mine,” he mumbled, barely hearing it before he lifted you to reach your back and unclasped your strap, only hovering it upwards and started fondling your firm breasts, fitting on his hands like a glove.

“You should see yourself, writhing underneath me,” Jungwon spoke before he latches his mouth on one of your hardened nipples. Biting harshly making you yelp in pain as his hot, warm tongue played around it.

“Asshole,” you mumbled against your moans as Jungwon continued the act. Sucking harshly on your nipples.

“This asshole is going to fuck you hard tonight,” he taunted. “Going to make you forget everything we had, until the only thing you can remember is how my cock fits inside you perfectly.”

And those words only made you whimper as Jungwon’s hips moved against his own, grinding his clothed cock against yours. The rough friction of his pants against your panty were harsh yet it threw a tease for you two.

“You want it?” he teased. “You're gonna need your words babe.”

“Dream on Jungwon,” you replied with a gritted teeth. You’re still holding onto your pride. Your mind trying to rationalize that this is still wrong but fuck, your arousal’s starting to heat and the way Jungwon’s hips grind against you just gives you the urge to give in.

“Your body says otherwise,” he grins, hands in between your thighs as he cups it despite the layered clothes. Whistling teasingly as his thumb somehow finds the spot, making you let out a small mewl which made Jungwon chuckle deeply.

“Jungwon —”

“Come on, while I’m still being nice babe,” he coos, hand pressing against it. “You don’t want me being mean don’t you?”

And despite all the teasing, you still won’t give in. “Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

The next thing you knew, his hands were cupping your face tightly while the other hand landed a harsh slap in between your thighs, making you let out a loud yelp.

“What do I expect, you’ve always been a brat y/n,” he sneered. “But don’t worry babe, I’m going to fuck that attitude out of you.”

Jungwon didn’t waste any time. Harshly, he lifts up your skirt and kneed your legs wider, thanking you internally for giving him easier access. He looks at your clothed cunt, seeing the wet patch in the middle, he couldn’t help but to chuckle darkly as the tent inside him became more visible, begging to be freed.

He leans against you once again, cupping your cheeks harshly as his lips crash on yours once again. Rough and forcing as his tongue swipes down your lips, fingers pressing the side making you whine loudly — giving Jungwon the opportunity to insert his tongue at you.

A shaky breath was all you could do as your hands finds it way towards Jungwon’s hair, tugging it harshly but instead of pulling him away from you, you could only hold on his hair for leverage, because as much as you know that this is wrong, you eventually gave in and want more of it.

Your words fell flat the moment you let yourself indulge into the act. You find yourself moaning as you kiss him back, tongue battling against his as you tug his hair harder, making Jungwon moan against your lips.

“See, you want this too, don’t you?” he laughs as he breaks out from the kiss. Calloused hands finding its way in between your thigh once again, just its light feathering made you let out a loudest sound inside the room. His finger fiddled with your panty’s waistband, tugging it until he had access to your cunt.

“Fuck already wet for me? You’re getting wet for your rival? See that, what will your pride say about you?”

You didn’t response to his words, but instead, you tugged his hair harder that he pulled away backwards — and he only laughs at your action because Jungwon fucking loves how you’re too prideful to not give in so you let your actions speak.

And so does Jungwon, because he’s planning to make you give in to him that night. His fingers trailed against the lips of your core. It's wet and pulsating and it only sends chills towards the man. Hearing you holding back your moan, as he dips it further, sliding in and out like he was teasing you.

Jungwon finds your entrance, fingertips swirling against it and you unknowingly bucked your hips against it.

He slid one finger inside, curling and pumping inside as your walls hugged his finger, eager for pleasure while his curiosity lingered so much. Pumping twice before he removes his finger and decides to lick your musk out of his fingers.

“Fuck,” Jungwon moans loudly, he wanted it. He can feel his dick twitching at your taste. He wanted to taste more of you that in a second, he’s kneeling in front of you, removing your panties completely and throwing it somewhere.

It didn’t occur to you that Jungwon had dipped his head in between your thighs. Not until he licks your pussy in one large stripe, and fuck, Jungwon groans heavenly. Why do you taste so fucking good? He couldn’t help but to bury himself against your pussy as he continued to lick your entrance. Tongue protruding as he sucks it harshly, moaning against it while his hands grab both your thighs to stabilize you.

“Jungwon!” you let out a scream as he focused on your clit. That little bud that had you writhing under his touch. Jungwon grazes his teeth against it, a curse escapes your lips as you look down and makes eye contact with Jungwon — leaving you in daze.

He stared at you like a curious cat while he busied his mouth on your clit. Giving it kitty licks slow and teasing that it had you holding onto your breath.

“Look how easy you fell for me babe,” he smiled, giving your pussy soft kisses before devouring you once again.

“Stop — Jungwon,” you mewled as you can feel your stomach tightening, your grip against the bedsheets tightens as Jungwon didn’t stop but instead, he became faster and rougher that another moan escapes your lips.

You can feel your orgasm building up, you couldn’t help but to cry as you buck your hips upward to meet Jungwon’s tongue. It’s right there, everything just feels so good and you’re just in the right momentum —

Not until Jungwon stops, separating himself from your cunt dying down your orgasm, and leaving you sensitive and wanting. A whiny cry was all you can do as you watch him unbuckle his belt.

“You think I’ll let you cum babe?” he smirks at you. You can see his messed up face filled with your slick. “I’m not that easy.”

And instead of fighting back, your mouth lets out a small whine making him chuckle harder.

“You’ll get to cum with my dick, you want that?” he said and you weren’t able to say another word. Jungwon frees his huge dick. Angry red and twitching, almost sensitive as he strokes it lightly while he approaches you like a predator.

“Come on, use your words,” he ordered.

“Yes,” you whimpered in defeat, and that obviously had glistened something lustful in Jungwon’s stare.

Jungwon hovered against you, breath steady as he aligned his hard cock on your entrance. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his tip glides up and down on your sensitive cunt. You hold onto his shoulder as Jungwon pushes his cock inside, sliding with ease as your walls welcome it.

“You’re so tight,” Jungwon moaned before he started moving his hips. “So fucking tight for me, your pussy’s sucking me like it doesn’t want my cock to leave you.”

Tears started to fall from your eyes. Breathy moans escaping your lips as Jungwon continued to thrust harshly, rough almost bruising your hips, holding it with his firm hands. You could only take his cock whole, filling you full and reaching your deepest parts.

“Oh my god — Jungwon —” you stifled a moan when Jungwon reached down and started playing with your tits once again. Fondling and biting the erected bud while his hips never stopped its movement. It only led you to becoming more sensitive. Too fucked-up to sink in that Jungwon, your sworn rival is fucking you hard.

“Look at you babe, already fucked-up? Whoever thought you'd be dumb when a cock’s pounding inside you?” Jungwon teases, thrust sharp and calculated, every slide stabs your cervix, gliding through your spot that tears continue to flow.

“What a gorgeous mess,” he whispered to himself as Jungwon wiped the tears trailing down your cheeks. “A crying mess for me, want me to ruin you more?”

You weren’t able to answer his question when he started to pound inside you once again, earning shaking whines from you, legs wanting to escape his hold but Jungwon’s too strong for you. He holds you tightly underneath, expression proud and ego swelling to see you ruined under him.

“Answer my question,” Jungwon commanded. “Come on, you can still make up some words slut, or are you too fucked out to say because of my cock?”

You writhe from his touch, “please —” you stuttered out. It’s the only thing you could think of, especially when you’re on the edge of orgasm. As much as you hated your situation, you also wanted to at least get something from it.

“Beg harder babe, I’m not that easy.”

“Fuck, ruined me Jungwon! Do whatever you want!” you shouted, and that only gave him the signal to thrust harder, harsher that his fingernails are dipping hard on the flesh of your thighs.

“Oh don’t worry babe,” he grins at you. “I have every intention of ruining you.”

“Jungwon —” a whimper escapes your lips as you can feel your stomach churning, “please I want to cum.”

“That’s what I want from you,” Jungwon sneered. “Begging to cum? Can’t do that without me? Since I’m being good, you can cum babe. Show me that you’ve cum because of me.”

His thrust became sharper, stabbing the right spot endlessly that it’s slowly coiling your insides, your walls becoming tight, hugging Jungwon’s cock and making him groan out of pleasure. Your warm flesh trapping his dick as he fucks you continuously.

You cum silently. Body shaking, tears falling as a muted cry escaped your lips, eyes shut as Jungwon continued his movement. Fucking you through orgasm until your pushing him away.

“Stop — please,” you only begged but your words didn’t even reach Jungwon’s ears. He mercilessly pounded on you until he could feel his dick twitching, and body becoming hotter.

“Fuck —” Jungwon pulls out in a second, hands stroking his dick as he washed through his orgasm. Painting you with his cum, traces of semen tainting your body just like what Jungwon had intended.

You took deep breaths, body slowly coming down as you felt yourself weary and tired, eyes drowsy like Jungwon had sucked all your energy out. It didn’t help that you had a tiring day too, that’s why you couldn’t help but to close your eyes for a moment.

But in a minute, you felt Jungwon’s arms grabbing you by your hips, too tired to fight back you only let out a small whimper when he flipped your body, stomach pressing against the sheets as you felt his body hovering over you.

“Tapping out so early? Come on, we only had one round,” Jungwon taunted, before slapping your ass cheeks, making you moan quietly.

“Fine, get some rest babe,” he defeated, planting a kiss on your temple before he moved near your ears. “But I’m not done yet with you, we’re just getting started.”

You woke up with your head throbbing and body aching.

A loud groan escapes from your lips as you sit up from the bed — that’s when you realized that the walls were navy blue and the interiors were different.

You’re in Jungwon’s room alone. You remembered last night’s chaos, and you find yourself wearing the shirt Jungwon had given you along with some large boxers. You glanced at the bedside and saw your ruined clothes folded, that’s when it reminded you of last night’s disaster.

You couldn’t even remember what happened after. All you know was that you and Jungwon had sex, and if he had fucked you again after, you didn’t care at all. All you wanted was to get the hell out of his room.

You grabbed your phone beside your clothes, opening it to see any notifications. But one notification stands out from the rest. A few missed calls from a classmate of yours. You couldn’t help but to press her number once again and after a few rings, she answered it.

“Oh my gosh y/n, please tell me you’re on your way!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “on my way? what do you mean?”

“Did you read the groupchat? The interview was moved to today at 10 am! They had a last minute announcement last night. I know the party was last night but did Jungwon inform you?”

“Wait — are you serious?” you asked, stumbling down on your own feet, you can feel your heart rapidly beating fast. “Why — why would they even move it to today!?”

“I don’t know either! It still hasn’t started yet, but I feel like you can make it, just go!”

The call ended and you can feel your heart beating fast. You glanced at your phone and it’s nine-twenty am. The supreme court’s half an hour away and if you’re fast, you can make it with just a few minutes of tardiness.

But you’re unprepared. You haven’t had practice yet, and you know you couldn’t go to an interview unprepared. It’ll mess up your mind. You don’t even have any of the requirements with you. Your mind’s still throbbing and the remnants of last night’s alcohol is dried up on your throat.

Yet, you’re desperate. You need to get on that interview — you badly need to secure it or else, your future will crumble.

“Fuck it,” that’s the only you could say as you left Jungwon’s room. You didn’t care to find his whereabouts. Hurriedly, you went towards the room in front of you, knocking so loudly that you know you’re disturbing their sleep.

“Y/n —”

“Jiwon, I’m sorry, I know it’s too early in the morning but they moved the interview for the internship today and I need to go there right now! I just need some clothes and can I borr—”

“Calm down yn, calm down, I’ll lend you some of my smart casuals and heels. Do you want to wash up for a few minutes? Or —”

“I just need to be there before ten or maybe a few minutes late, Jiwon, you know how important this is to me.” you cried, voice almost pleading.

“Don’t worry babe, go! Wash up at least, I’ll wake Heeseung up to drive you to the supreme court, I’ll prepare the clothes,” Jiwon instructed, giving you the signal to go to the bathroom.

After washing up for a short time, patting some light makeup, and changing into clothes Jiwon lent to you, the two of you scrambled downstairs. That’s when you noticed that their other friends stayed over to sleep in the living room. All are in their daydream, not even noticing the chaos you brought so early in the morning.

On the way towards the supreme court, you couldn’t help but to bite onto your nails. The music coming from the speaker wasn’t helping at all. You’re nervous, and it’s stressing you out. Your heart is going to burst any moment and it’s no help that it’s already ten in the morning.

You don’t know what to blame. The program for the sudden change of schedule or you who didn’t bother opening her phone last night because you’re too busy with Jungwon. You wanted to curse yourself too. If you have pushed him away, then maybe you could’ve seen the announcement.

“Relax y/n,” Jiwon softly smiled. “Don’t cry now, it’ll ruin your mascara.”

“What if I fuck up Ji?” you nervously replied.

“No you will not,” the older female assured. “You can ace this one!”

“I hope so,” you only said with a worried tone. “This is a life and death situation.”

You arrived at the Supreme Court an hour later. It didn’t help that the traffic was jam-packed that day. Parking on the side, you could only scream your gratitude towards the couple before scurrying your way inside the building.

“Good luck!” Jiwon shouted, not minding that you didn’t turn around to wave back to them.

Heeseung drove away as soon as you entered the building, passing by the hundreds of cars parked outside, as Jiwon darted her attention on the view outside.

“Babe, isn’t that your family car?” Heeseung asked out of blue. Jiwon glanced at the direction of Heeseung’s stare and was surprised to see a familiar red car parked nearby. Jiwon’s eyes followed through it, squinted hard to read the plate.

“Huh?” Jiwon muttered. “What the hell is Jungwon doing here?”

You were walking fast inside the empty hallway. Catching your breath as you turned left and you immediately saw your classmates by the waiting area. As soon as they saw you, they were surprised but a sorry look was all they could give — that’s when you knew.

“It’s finished,” it was the only thing they could say as soon as you approached them. That’s when you felt your heart crashing into thousands of pieces.

“Seriously?” you asked, hoping that it’s not true and the interview is still on-going. You were begging inside. Please. Just one chance.

“Yeah, they had deliberated who they’re going to choose, it was a quick process that’s why it’s a bit unfair too.” another one commented.

“Is it really finished? Seriously? What the hell, that’s unfair!” you frustratedly shouted, and they could only agree with you.

They explained to you that the other sections also weren’t able to get the interview. What all they can agree on is that the court was busy, that's why they couldn’t spare time interviewing interns.

“If that’s the reason, why did they even open the program in the first place?” you complained, and they could only agree with your worries. Exclaiming their frustrations while you’re still processing the thought.

“Who got the slot?” you asked suddenly.

All of them looked at each other wary, before answering. “Jungwon got it.”

There it was. Like a bullet straight to your heart. You can feel yourself tensing up, mind blanking as his name came out of their name.

No way.

“He told me…he’s not going to try because he’s going to be busy —” then it hit you. Like a knife deepening on your chest.

Jungwon lied to you. He cheated his way towards the internship. He made you confident that you’ll get the slot when he forfeited.

He swore a promise to you and he broke it. Yang Jungwon broke his promise to you.

He probably knew last night that the schedule was changed, but he didn’t tell you about it, and instead distracted you and lured you to where you are right now. He sabotaged everything that you’ve prepared for.

“Where is he?”

“I think he went to the restroom, it’s on the other side of the hallway.”

“Excuse me.”

Your footsteps were heavy, heels clicking and making noise against the marbled tiles. Your heart was fuming with anger and betrayal, your mind was filled with nothing but a mouthful of curses and thinking how big of an asshole Jungwon was.

And beneath those, your hands are shaking and lips are trembling. You can feel your eyes starting to get watery and you’re holding it back — you’re not going to cry because of Yang Jungwon. No fucking way.

And there he was. You can feel your heart stop as he looks at you, bored expression and relaxed with his hands on his slacks pocket — and that pisses you even more. Hurriedly, you strided over him, grabbed him by the collars and pushed him against the wall as your raging eyes stared at him.

“You told me, you’re not going to join the internship — you promised me!” your shout echoed against the empty hallway. Your tears started to flow while Jungwon remained cold with his stare.

“How does it feel? Getting betrayed by your best friend? Getting lied to by them? Hurts right?” Jungwon asked instead, tone filled with bitterness. Like he’s been bottling his years of resentment to you.

You looked at him confused. For a moment, you didn’t understand what Jungwon meant. Too stunned with the fact that he broke his promise — then it hit you. The years of him beating you at every competition. Your rivalry with him, the neverending game of each other’s pride. It all makes sense now.

“Is this because I rejected you? You’re still hung up about it? Jungwon, that was years ago!” you shouted at him.

“It’s not about the fact that you rejected me, it’s the fact that you dated Dohoon weeks after you rejected me!” Jungwon shouted back, and that made you freeze.

The hand on his collar loosened, realizing that he had found out. Jungwon looks at you with the same stare that he had given you when you rejected him. Eyes wide and angry, while the bitterness dripped on his tongue, like he was holding it back for years.

“You think I don’t know? You think you can hide from me that Dohoon asked you out a week before graduation? Why didn’t you think I confessed to you all of the sudden? And then you fucking lied to me that you’ll prioritize your study — only for you two to officially become a couple a week after graduation.” Jungwon argued.

“Jungwon, I don’t want to hurt you —”

“You hurt me more when you lied to me, I can accept it y/n if you don’t have feelings for me!”

“I’m sorry Jungwon, I was young and I was just so scared of losing you.”

“Well, you already did. I’m your best friend y/n, I’ll understand if that’s all you see in me, but you chose to hide it from me,” Jungwon sighed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry that I was so oblivious about your feelings to me,” you confessed. “I’m sorry Jungwon, I really am. Whatever Dohoon and I had, it’s just a passing feeling. It didn’t even last that long, because throughout, all I could think of is that I hurt you.”

“It’s too late y/n, the damage has been done.”

“Did I really hurt you that much? Were you hurting so much that all you can think of was competing against me?” you bitterly asked.

“Yes,” Jungwon coldly replied. “You think this is just something silly? I have loved you since we were kids y/n, don’t you know that? Why are you so oblivious to my feelings for you?”

“I don’t know!” you shouted back. “And I’m sorry if I was too oblivious to notice, but did it really have to go this far Jungwon? You promised me! And I know you Jungwon, you never break promises but all for it was just an act so that you can get back to me!”

“Maybe you don’t know me anymore y/n, we’re not friends anymore y/n, have you forgotten that?”

You stopped. Realization hitting you that he’s right. You two aren’t friends anymore. He’s your sworn rival now. Nothing more, nothing less. The small hope that you’re holding on — the one that you wanted to hold on until your hands bleed finally decided to let go at that moment.

“So, this is my karma for breaking your heart.” you started, looking at him with glassy eyes and trembling lips. “Happy now? Seems like you're satisfied that you’ve ruined the only opportunity for me to get into law school.”

You saw how Jungwon’s eyes widened. Of course, he doesn’t know about this part, and it felt just right not to tell him — even if it means ruining some opportunities for you. Jungwon didn’t say a word. For the first time ever, he wasn’t able to articulate words when tears started to form on your eyes.

“I quit Jungwon, you won, congratulations, I hope you got what you wanted,” you only said. And with that, you walked away from him. While he stood there, watching you disappear from his sight — just like before.

Quietly, Jungwon went home with a heavy heart.

The once noisy and crowded house is now filled with silence that felt so eerie as he entered the living room. Everything’s clean now and back to the way it was. Except, Jiwon’s by the couch, watching some series and as soon as her younger brother is within her vicinity, she closes the television.

“Yang Jungwon,” Jiwon said with a serious tone, standing up which made Jungwon stop.

“Not now noona —”

“What you did was wrong,” she crosses her arms, tone cold and serious, and Jungwon hates it. It was rare for his older sister to be this angry. “So wrong, you destroyed y/n’s dreams, are you happy now?”

“So you’re siding with her?” Jungwon scoffed.

“I am siding with no one, but what you did was too much,” Jiwon pointed out. “You could’ve just — I don’t know, break her heart the same way she broke yours but this one? You don’t even care about law school! You’re in a band Jungwon, but y/n? She needs that internship because it’s her stepping stone on becoming a lawyer, and you just stole it from her.”

Frustrated, Jungwon could help but to shout. “Rub it on my face, go on! I was a jerk, an asshole I admit it!”

“Oh I will because I didn’t teach you to be a selfish jerk Jungwon!” Jiwon shouted back. “I didn’t mind that petty competition you and y/n have, I thought that it’s just an academic thing but this has gone too far! Why do you have to do that Jungwon?”

Jungwon falls under a deep silence. He doesn’t know. Really. He doesn’t know why he did it. He thought it’ll ease the grudge that he was holding against you. But it only felt like he had broken your heart once again.

“She hurt me noona.” That was the only thing he could say.

“Unintentionally, she didn’t know about your feelings, and you’re the one who walked away first from your friendship.”

“She lied to me, how many times do I have to tell you that? She told me that she’ll be prioritizing her studies only to find out that she’s dating someone.” Jungwon argued back.

“And she regrets it,” Jiwon countered. “Everyday, she wished that she didn’t date Dohoon because she realized that she’s just infatuated with him, and all she can think about is how it ruined her friendship with you. Do you even know that there’s not a day where she still wishes to be friends again with you?”

“You think that’ll make me feel better?”

“It should be Jungwon, because I’m giving you reasons, but you, you’re still holding onto your grudge and pride. Jungwon, nothing will happen if you keep holding onto that. You’ll just keep on blocking every opportunity for you to mend your relationship with y/n,” Jiwon lets out a deep sigh before approaching her younger brother.

“You’re not blocking her because you don’t want your feelings to get hurt again. It’s just that you don’t want your pride to be stepped on again.”

Jungwon didn’t rebut his sister’s words. Too frustrated to answer back because Jiwon’s right. It’s not about his feelings anymore. It’s about his pride — it’ll only ruin him to lower his pride especially when he’s the one who started it in the first place.

Until the very end, he chose his pride but after everything, it didn’t feel like he won at all. It felt useless for him.

“I’m going to y/n, just stay here and don’t do anything stupid.” Jiwon excuses, glancing at Jungwon who only had his head low.

With the small shut of the door, Jungwon was met with nothing but utter silence that killed him slowly.

Outside the house, Jiwon lets out a breathy sigh. Disappointment written all over her face as she hugged on her jacket lightly before walking towards your dorm. This is what she’s afraid of. Your rivalry going too far that it’ll end up hurting someone.

Jiwon hates it. She could’ve prevented it, but she chose to be a bystander, because she thought you two are mature enough to handle it. But it looks like she’s wrong.

As she turns right to your dorm, Jiwon immediately notices that you’re outside your dorm. Talking to someone over the phone. Your eyes and nose were red from crying, streams from your tears dried on your cheeks while you’re still wearing the clothes she lent you.

Jiwon approaches you quietly, enough not to disturb your call. She was about to tap your shoulder when she froze to hear your words.

“Y/n,” it was the only thing she could say, and that stopped you. Turning around and surprised to see Jiwon standing in front of you shocked.

“Jiwon,”

“Tell me it’s not true?” she asked in disbelief. “You’re moving to the states?”

And the only thing you could do was smile at her bitterly. “I’m sorry.”

You and Jungwon became strangers ever since that day.

No more rivalry, no more competitions, or nonsense banters. The results were obvious — Jungwon won. He got the internship and instead of being grateful about it, it only left a heavy pressure on him — especially when he’s going to balance it along with his career and studies. All for it so that he could get back to you.

You, on the other hand, blended within the walls. Jungwon had observed it. How you become eerily quiet, listening to the professors, and only answering questions when called. You tried to distract yourself, spending more time in the club room, finishing the article along with your other duties.

It’s ironic but Jungwon wondered how you were. There was one time he saw you talking to Atty Yoon. It was serious talk and his curiosity itched, he wondered what it’s all about. He wanted to badly ask you, but he knows that he doesn’t have the right to — and this time, he distanced himself for you.

The rest of the members noticed how Jungwon’s out of his mind during practice. He insists that he’s fine, but the three older members know that he’s hiding something, and it probably involves you.

So they took it upon their hands, and cornered him.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Jungwon asked, crossing his arms as he looked at his friends one by one.

“It’s an intervention,” Sunghoon stated, and Jungwon groaned in response.

“Not you three too,” he could only complain.

“I think it’s the right thing to do because we don’t hurt girls here Jungwon,” Heeseung pointed out.

“I don’t even know whether to take you seriously or not.”

“No, seriously, we’re here to give you advice, man to man,” Jay said in a serious tone before looking at the younger male. “What you did was an asshole move, but before we dive into that, we want to hear your side first.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, open up! Just tell us everything starting from the very start.” Jay gestured. “No judgement, no opinions until you finish your story, we’ll listen and we don’t judge.”

“He means it,” Heeseung added.

Jungwon could only let out a sigh. Frustratedly, he brushes his hair before telling his side.

“I love her,” he started, surprising the three with his words. “When we were kids, it was just a small crush, an infatuation. She was pretty, kind, and she stands up for what's right. We were together almost all the time. It surprises me that we’re closer than she and noona, but we’re just inseparable. She — she even convinced her parents for her to study in Decelis High School because she doesn’t want to be separated from me.”

He looks at his band mates who are attentively listening to his story. “Is it bad that I gave meaning to it? She stayed because she didn't want to be separated from me. She didn’t mind traveling an hour and half back and forth just to study at Decelis, and that’s because of me, how can I not give meaning to it?”

Sunghoon was about to speak up but Heeseung had clasped his hand on the keyboardist’s mouth. Jungwon didn’t seem to notice as he’s too deep into his worries.

“That made me love her more, and I thought I stood a chance on her. I thought it’ll be those cliches that we were friends who like each other but are just too afraid to ruin their friendship, so no one confesses.” Jungwon lets out a deep sigh. “But in the end, she only sees me as her best friend.”

Jay winces at the words, while Sunghoon could only comfort his hurting self. Heeseung being the one who’s serious at Jungwon’s story, gestures to him to continue.

“I made a mistake, I was wrong, that’s all I know. When I learned that Dohoon confessed to y/n a week before graduation, I was scared that he’ll take her away from me.” Jungwon then remembers that day. That afternoon in the empty classroom, his confession, your rejection, and the fact that the bracelet is still hidden deep in his closet meant that he’s still holding on to you.

“My confession was sudden, I know that. That’s why I am prepared for rejection, I just want to dump my feelings on her. But hearing her excuse, I couldn’t help but be angry” the frustrating feelings washes over him again. “First, it’s because she didn’t tell me that Dohoon confessed to her, we’re friends right? Why did she keep it a secret from me? Second, because she gave me a shallow reason why she turned down my confession. Studies first? Who the fuck will believe to those?”

“I do,” Heeseung couldn’t help but to butt in, earning glares from the three. “Look, sorry I know we don’t judge in this intervention, but some people do prioritize their studies and think that relationships can be a distraction.”

“You’re missing the point hyung,” Jay rebutted. “She lied to Jungwon, it’s a white lie because she didn’t want to hurt Jungwon, she doesn’t want to reject him with the reason that she doesn’t feel the same way.”

“And instead of accepting it like a real man, you decided to be petty and turned her reason for you two to become academic rivals?” Sunghoon asked, a scoff of disbelief following afterwards.

“I felt betrayed,” Jungwon defended. “I don’t need her to think about my feelings, I can accept it if she doesn’t like me back! Why did she need to lie to me?”

“Jungwon, you mean so much to her that she doesn’t want to lose you, that’s why she did that,” Heeseung explains calmly. An assuring smile forms on the eldest lips. “Maybe a part of her thought that you’ll understand if she said that reason.”

“But instead, you made it into a rivalry,” Sunghoon butts in. “Did it ever cross your mind why you resorted to that plan?”

“I was immature, I want her to prove to me that she was telling the truth even though I know that it’s just a lie,” Jungwon huffs out. “I was hurt, and seeing her getting frustrated and angry because I beat her at every competition, it fuels my pride. It just proves to me that I was right, but —”

Jungwon freezes midway. “Back in there, in the supreme court, I know I crossed the line. I know it was too much. We made a promise, that she’ll give us good publicity in exchange, I won’t participate in the internship. I lied, I cheated, and I got the slot, the thing that she was aiming for. I thought she would just be mad at me, curse me like she always does but she cried — she cried because of me.”

“Okay maybe this is the part that we judge,” Jay interrupted. “Jungwon, you broke your promise to her.”

“I did,” Jungwon said in defeat. “I did, I lied just like what she did.”

“She lied because she doesn’t want to hurt you, you lied because you want to hurt her, there’s a difference, Jungwon,” Sunghoon pointed out, and that only had sunken Jungwon’s shoulders.

“Well, you finally beat her right?” Heeseung sarcastically interjected. “Are you happy with it now? Is the grudge on your heart gone now?”

No. It never left. In fact, the pain became deeper. He felt guilty. His grudge never left and it only left Jungwon mad at himself, especially when he knew that he had gone too far.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know how to approach you either. It’s like the more you two meet, the more you two hurt each other — and that thought pains him. You two used to be glued together, but now? You two can’t be in the same room anymore.

“It just hurts me more,” Jungwon could only say. “I don’t know what to do anymore, noona’s mad at me, and I’m sure you guys are disappointed with me.”

“Yeah, you did too much Jungwon,” Jay heaves out a sigh. “But we still wanted to be there for you, the only thing you should do is to turn things right.”

“Talk. You two should talk and just communicate,” Sunghoon added. “It’s important to clear things up.”

“How can I? She’s avoiding me.”

“I think she had enough of you Won,” Heeseung defeatedly said. “I think you need to give her space, let her heal the wounds. It’ll just hurt you two more if you two immediately talk to each other.”

“I wish it’s easy,” Jungwon said. You’re like a breath of life for him. He couldn’t stand being away from you despite the anger he’s holding on to. He knows he’s conflicted, but deep inside he is still yearning for you.

“If you really love her, you’ll let go of her Won,” Heeseung shared. “Right now, your pride and heart are fighting with each other, you have to let go of one thing.”

The newspaper fell flat on top of the coffee table. Jungwon, who seems to be busy with his task, stops and glances at it.

There they are. Front page of the university newspaper. A whole page on page four will be dedicated to them, and only about them.

“I hope you’re happy now Jungwon-ah,” Jiwon said with a serious tone while the younger male focused his attention towards the article.

You stuck to your promise that you’ll give them a good exposure — and you did. The article was concise and catchy. You highlighted their journey starting from being a university band shifting into an independent one, and now here you are, a mainstream band.

Despite being the youngest in the band, Yang Jungwon from the Department of Law seems to be able to catch up with the older members. Impressively, he’s even ahead of them. He controls every song and beats with his drums, a huge backbone of the band, considered as the last puzzle piece of Arcanum.

He continued reading his section — realization hitting him like being poured with a bucket of ice. Even after everything he had done to you, you still made sure that Arcanum’s image won’t be in a bad light.

Why would Jungwon be happy? Two weeks had passed and his sister’s mad at him, his friends were disappointed with his actions, and he broke your heart, again. He still doesn’t know how to approach you. The only thing he could hold on was his pride. But what’s to hold on when you two are strangers now?

“I am not,” it was the only thing Jungwon could say.

“Good,” Jiwon spat. “You deserve it.”

“How long are you going to villainize me?”

“Long until y/n forgives you,” the older girl said, before grabbing her phone. “But I guess that won’t happen because you still couldn’t face her like a real man.”

“Quit it, you’re just like Sunghoon-hyung,”

“Then stop moping around and face her,” Jiwon nagged. “Before everything is too late and she’ll be gone for good.”

Jungwon halted, his ears deafening at his older sister’s words.

“What do you mean?”

Jiwon didn’t answer.

“Noona, what the fuck do you mean?”

“She’s leaving Jungwon,” Jiwon stated, and Jungwon felt his heart dropping on the floor. “She’s continuing her studies in the states, and she doesn’t know when she will return or not. It depends on the future.”

“I don’t know that — she didn’t told me that.”

“Why would she tell you that Jungwon? Why would she tell the guy who she lost her internship to, that she’s migrating to the states? She’ll be scared that you might do it too just to beat her out of it,” Jiwon sarcastically replied, and that deepened the stab in Jungwon’s heart.

“When was this?”

“A few weeks ago,” Jiwon shared. “It’s a great scholarship deal but she’s hesitating because it’s in the states, she’ll struggle to adapt. The internship was her sign, if she doesn't get in, she’ll accept it.”

Jungwon didn’t say a word. No wonder you reacted that way when he got the slot. You need it. It’s the only thing that will make you stay here.

“She doesn’t want to leave you Jungwon,” Jiwon bitterly smiles, thinking about her friend who’s leaving for good. “Even if you were an infuriating asshole, she didn’t want to pursue it, but you outdid yourself this time Won.”

Shit. Jungwon curses. There’s no way. He’s not going to let you leave the country. He has to do something about it.

“I got to go,” Jungwon could only say, standing up from his seat and leaving the house in an abrupt manner.

Jiwon knows that she’s not in the right position to tell but she knows you two. She had witnessed your friendship grow and crumble throughout the years. She was there, watching your rivalry unfold and quickly be ruined again. She’s not going to let you leave with a heavy heart — and her younger brother wondering why you suddenly disappeared.

Jungwon stood outside your dorm apartment. He’s been constantly bugging you, calling you nonstop, almost begging for you to talk to him. He stood there for an hour before you decided that he’s not going to leave unless you show up, so with the remaining pride you had in you, you decided to go down and face him.

“What did I hear from noona?” Jungwon angrily asked, the moment you're near him.

You didn’t say a word but instead, you stood there as Jungwon stared at you like you had betrayed him once again.

“You’re leaving for states? You’re not going to wait until graduation? Do you really hate me that much?” he asked almost in disbelief.

Of course. You only think. Jiwon’s going to tell him. You don’t know whether to be mad at the older girl but you let it slide. You know that she told him so that you two could finally talk, to clear things up and perhaps, for you to leave the country without holding any grudge against Jungwon.

After all, everything about this is about you now — not about Jungwon, not about your rivalry with him. It’s not to shove to him that you’re going abroad to study and he couldn’t. No more games and petty competition that was created due to an immature reason. Everything about this is for your future.

“This isn’t about you anymore Jungwon, nor is it about whatever competition we have,” you only exhaled. “This is about me and my future, and I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you.”

“No,” Jungwon firmly said. “You can’t leave, don’t leave —”

“Why? So you could continue our rivalry? Jungwon, you’ve won, you got the internship! Is that not enough for you!?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Jungwon answered instead. “Please, don’t go, please stay…stay with me, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize now that everything you’ve done caught up to you. If I stay, what good will it become for us? We’re only hurting each other Jungwon.”

“We can start all over again, please, I’m sorry —”

“Jungwon, it’s not easy for me to just get over it and start over again,” You let out a deep sigh before looking at him. “I made some mistakes too, I’m sorry for breaking your heart Jungwon —”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence when Jungwon pulls you to a tight hug, arms wrapped around you that you freeze from your place. “I don’t care about that anymore, please, just don’t leave me.”

You could only close your eyes, tears falling as Jungwon’s warmth engulfs you. You hate it. You hate how despite everything Jungwon has done to you, you still miss your best friend so much. You missed his touch, his warmth, and the comfort his hugs gave you.

“This is for my future Jungwon,” you repeated. “I wouldn’t have done this if only I got the internship.”

“I’m sorry, please —” Jungwon stuttered through his words. All his pride crumbled down in a snap, he was almost kneeling in front of you as the guilt had become heavier than the anger he had towards you. “Please don’t leave me, I’ll decline the internship, I’ll make sure you’ll get the spot.”

“It’s too late Jungwon,” you only said, and before he could say anything, you broke out from the hug. “I don’t see a reason for me to stay, my parents are moving too. We had already hurt each other. I think it’s best that we keep our distance from now on.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungwon apologized. “I’m sorry for ruining our friendship. For being an asshole to you, and stealing your internship after I made a promise. I’m sorry.”

“I have forgiven you a long time ago, Jungwon,” you consoled. “But the more I see you, the more I’m hurt because I regret not reciprocating your feelings for me — and it took me a year to realized that I love you, and I miss my best friend so much, and I was holding on to our petty competition because it’s the only way I could get close to you again, even if our pride is getting in the way for us to communicate properly.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Jungwon breathes. “Why now? When you’re leaving?”

“Because even though I love you, I’m still hurting Jungwon,” you explained. “And I need space, I need a place on my own — a life without you.”

“There’s nothing I can do to make up your mind?” he pleaded desperately.

“Nothing.”

Jungwon became quiet. That’s when he knew that your decisions were final. Nothing can change your mind, not even if he kneeled there and bled himself dry. He had hurt you deeply that you had to distance yourself from you.

“What happened to us Jungwon?” you asked. It was the question that you’ve long to ask him for years. “Why did everything lead to this?”

“It’s me,” Jungwon said in defeat. At that moment, he chooses his love over his pride. “It’s my fault, I was immature — scared that the only person I love will be gone. The funny thing was, she did, but it’s because of me.”

“Now, you really are going to be gone, I pushed you away, again, just like back then,” Jungwon mumbled. “I never thought it'd happen again.”

You only stared at him, “it’s for the best Jungwon. Maybe, it’s meant for us to end up this way.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungwon huffs. “We were inseparable back then, we…we could’ve been more than friends —”

“If only I'd realized it sooner,” you bitterly smiled. “I’m sorry Won, I’m sorry because I was too dumb to realise that my best friend’s in love with me — that I’m also in love with him.”

“Is your love for him not enough to outweigh the hurting feeling?”

You only nod, defeated, Jungwon didn’t say a word.

“Can I hug you?” Jungwon pleaded, thinking that tonight will probably be the last time he’ll get to talk to you. “Please, one last time?”

“Okay,” it was the only thing you could say before Jungwon pulled you to a bone-crushing hug. You rested your head on his chest as he tightly held you, not wanting to let you go, head resting on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I love you so much,” Jungwon cried. “I’m sorry if I hold onto my anger and pride, I’m sorry —”

“I’m sorry too, Jungwon.”

“Please, stay…I’ll distance myself from you, just stay here.” he persuaded once again.

“I’m sorry, my decision’s final.”

And the only thing you could hear was Jungwon soft cries as he buried himself to you, muffling his cries on your shoulder as tears fell from yours too.

Epilogue.

“You’re listening to 101.3 mixed up radio station, here we are with the hottest band in the scene, Arcanum!” the voice echoed through the radio station.

Behind the scene, the camera director signaled that the cameras were rolling. The DJ, Boo Seungkwan nodded as he smiled at the four guys sitting in front of him. Huge microphones in front of them, as they smiled nervously.

They introduced themselves one by one. Smiling despite being deep inside, they’re nervous for their first live radio guest. The DJ was cheerful and light to talk with. He makes sure that every member gets to answer, darting topics from their journey up to their music. The segment was going well and the longer the talk was, the tension on their shoulders lessened.

“Alright, so we’re here to ask you guys some burning hot questions. Everyone’s curious, what’s your relationship status? Some say that you guys are in a relationship while others aren't, it’s also a hot topic that you guys describe your ideal type during your showcase.” Seungkwan asked, glancing at the members one by one.

The boys laughed at the question, before quietly looking at each other. Gesturing the oldest to answer the question. “Alright, uhm — we’re not going to deny it anymore, but we’re in a healthy relationship, well except for Jungwon, he’s still single and ready to mingle if anyone wants him,” Heeseung teased, making the youngest glare at him.

“Oh this shouldn’t surprise me given that you guys are so handsome! It’s kinda controversial you know? It’s rare for singers to debut while maintaining a relationship and exposing them immediately to the public,” Seungkwan stated.

The members only agreed with the DJ’s words. One of the things they negotiated with the label is their private life outside their career. Daydream Records wasn’t strict with romantic relationships, and gave them the decision to reveal their relationship in public. While they weren’t the type to flaunt their girlfriends at every chance they have, their fans are quick to stalk their personal social media accounts.

“Well, they’ve been supporting us from the start, it’s fundamental that we also have trust in each other,” Sunghoon explained, smiling as he remembered his girlfriend.

“That’s true, plus they’re also the inspiration to our music, our fans love it to be honest, they think it’s romantic that we dedicated our songs for them,” Heeseung added.

“That’s right, from what I heard, your first ever composed song was dedicated to your girlfriend right?”

Heeseung only laughed at the DJ’s words but the obvious red ears gave off the answer. They remember the first time they performed it — in front of thousands of Decelis students at the year-ender concert. One of the biggest crowds that they had performed.

“That’s true, I’m going to say that the lyrics aren’t that deep and it’s a bit cheesy but that’s how I feel for her,” Heeseung explained, smiling wider than ever.

“If you want a small fact, Heeseung’s dating Jungwon’s older sister,” Jay chuckles.

“Oh! Seriously? Jungwon, what are your thoughts about it?” Seungkwan asked.

“Well,” Jungwon lets out a disappointing sigh. “I had no choice, they love each other.”

The talk about Arcanum’s relationships continued, gossiping about how they met and where, the DJ seemed to be impressed how they all have different love stories. Commenting at how their listeners are probably gushing at how cute their relationships are.

“You guys seem to really love them,” Seungkwan sentimentally said, and the members only smiled. “And I can see that they’re also a bunch of sweet and genuine girlfriends, that’s why we prepared a surprise for you guys!”

The members were surprised with Seungkwan’s words that they started looking around, wondering if their significant others are present in the set. Jungwon only laughed as the only single member, but his eyes wandered too, curious what kind of surprise the DJ had presented.

“Hello love,” a voice echoed through the speaker.

“Oh my god,” Sunghoon blurted out, surprised by a familiar voice that’s always been a tune to his ears.

“Oh it’s a voice message,” Jay said in relief.

The members decided to become quiet as they started listening to their voice messages. Sunghoon was smiling wide as his girlfriend made the call after her hospital shift, soft voice encouraging him and telling him that she’ll be there to support him no matter what — and she’ll be waiting at their home no matter what, making the keyboardist hold onto the ring on his ring finger, smiling wider that his eyes curved into crescent moons.

Jay laughs when he hears the bubbly tone of his girlfriend. Excitedly, she first shares anecdotes of their relationship, remembering that one time she kissed him in front of the crowd at the Rabbit Hole, a memory that seems to be a core memory not only for them, but also for the band. She then explains how lucky she was to have Jay as her boyfriend, a huge green flag she added. She warmly wraps it up with the sentence, “I’ll be cheering for you my rockstar.”

“Hi Heeseung,” Jiwon’s voice came last. Just from her voice, Heeseung can see her smile and that thought made him smile wider.

Jiwon expressed how she was there from the start. From their first band practice in their house up to now, and she’s proud of what they’ve become. She’ll be supporting them from afar and reminding them that the Yang residence can still be a place for their band practice. Her message wasn’t just solely for Heeseung — but for the whole group, touching everyone's heart, while the vocalist only smiled at the thought of Jiwon caring enough for his band members.

“For Jungwonnie, I’ll leave a message to you too,” Jiwon spoke, a teasing laugh escaping her lips. “Don’t be hard-headed to your members just because you’re the youngest! I won’t be there to nag you all the time! But noona will always be here cheering you on, I’m proud of you always. I love you kiddo.” From there, Jiwon’s voice stops. Jungwon’s smile never fades, heart touched by his sister’s words.

“At least I got a short message from my sister,” Jungwon jokes, making the other three laugh.

“Are you sure about that?” Seungkwan asked teasingly, “because while we’re listening to the voicemails, we suddenly received a message from someone. It says it’s from your best friend.”

Jungwon stops, confused and wondering who it was. His heart started beating fast, and there’s a small hope inside him that hopes it’s from you.

“Would you like to hear it?”

Jungwon only nods. Eager, even leaning against his microphone like it’ll make the voicemail louder.

“Hi Jungwon, congrats on your debut and your radio interview. It seems like life has always been in your favor,” there it was. Your soft tone that Jungwon immediately recognized.

“You have always been so perfect in so many ways Wonwon,” a laughter escapes your lips, making Jungwon smile. “Do you still hate it? Calling you Wonwon? But the nickname stuck with me ever since, so you have no choice about it.”

“I’ve known you ever since we were kids, you always love playing music, I never got to beat your guitar hero high score.” a faint laugh escapes your lips, and Jungwon swore that your laugh was the prettiest thing he had heard today. “It makes sense that you’ll be in a band, Wonwon even though you can do almost everything.”

Then, a deep silence followed after. From the other side, you stood in front of the glass wall, watching the planes take off while you waited for your boarding time. Your heart filled with regret but also relief as you clutched on your phone tightly.

“I just want to tell you that I’m proud of you, for everything that you’ve achieved. You deserve it, and I’m pretty sure that there’s more to come with you and Arcanum, and that makes me even more proud.”

“I hope you’re okay now Jungwon, I love you so, so much, don’t you ever forget that,” you only said, lips trembling as you choke back your tears while an announcement echoed in the background.

“It’s time for me to go, I don’t know what the future holds, but I’ll be here supporting you and Arcanum. Goodbye Jungwon.”

The call ended. Jungwon was quiet as he thought of you. He doesn’t know what to feel hearing your voice. But somehow, he felt closure with it, and he was glad to hear your voice one last time before you leave the country.

“Wow, that’s such touching words from your best friend,” Seungkwan softly said, touched by your message. “And of course! From your girlfriends too, before we close this segment, how about you guys give a few words for them?”

One by one, the members sent their love and short messages for their significant others. Hoping that it’ll reach them. All smiles and sweet words were given before it darted to Jungwon who gave the message last.

“Hi, thank you for the message. I don’t know if you’re still listening to this interview, but I hope you’ll be okay there in the states. It's a lot of adjustments, but I know you'll handle it strongly. Take care always. I love you so much, don't you ever forget that,” Jungwon deeply exhales before smiling.

“I'm doing okay now. I'm glad that we're were best friends y/n."

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writer-freak · 18 days ago

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hii! im having suchh kpop demon hunters brainrot rn omg, could you do sfw & nsfw headcanons for baby saja please? he's my saja boys bias lol, ty!!

A/N: Baby's also my bias, and I actually wanted to write these first but I kept going back and forth on how I see him😭. So if these seem a bit messy or all over the place, that's the reason (maybe I will rewrite them in the future). Thank you though and hope you enjoy

Casually flirty in the most annoying way. Like leaning against a doorframe while you're ranting and going, “You look so hot when you're mad at me.” He says it just to fluster you and walk off before you can react.

In general he will purposefully say the most inappropriate things at the worst possible times ,whispers“Wearing that again, huh? You trying to get punished?” right as you're about to leave the house.

Calls you a very inappropriate nickname even in public one day he just called you "my lil earthquake.” You asked him what that even meant and he just smirked and went, “Cause you shake when I—” Hand over his mouth. Immediately.

Back hugs but like he’ll wrap his arms around you real sweet, then suddenly whisper the filthiest shit in your ear just to make you choke on your coffee.

His hand is either in your back pocket or riding way too high on your thigh. Doesn’t care who might see, he likes the attention. "They should know who you belong to."

His favorite thing in the world? Annoying you for fun. He hides your stuff just to watch you lose your mind over it. “You sure you checked everywhere?” he says, absolutely knowing your phone is in his pocket.

Bored easily. If he's stuck somewhere, he’ll start texting you the wildest out-of-pocket things just to pass the time. “Do you think I’d look hot in a maid costume or should I make you wear it?”

Sometimes just pokes your cheek in public until you react, or slides his cold hands under your shirt just to hear you squeal.

Doesn't help right away when you struggle with something (like reaching a high shelf or carrying a box) because he likes watching you struggle. “Oh I know you got it” he teases from the doorway. Only helps after you call him a jerk (and even then he's grinning while doing it).

He acts innocent in front of others a bit more polite, wearing a smile, quiet. But the second you're alone, his expression changes just enough for you to realize: You're in danger. The fun kind.

Cocky. So cocky. Constantly smug about how much you love him. “You’re obsessed with me, y’know that?” If you deny it, he’ll raise a brow. “Mhm. Keep lying. See what happens later.”

Lowkey possessive. If you’re giving someone else too much attention? He’ll silently pull you onto his lap and whisper, “You’re being real loud for someone who wants to walk tomorrow.” All while sipping his drink like nothing happened.

Instead of “I love you,” he says “You’d be lost without me.” But if you say it first? He’ll blink slow and go, “Yeah. I love you too” Like it was obvious.

Surprisingly affectionate. He’ll play with your hair when you’re sitting together, doodle your name on the sides of his lyric pages, send you blurry animal memes captioned “us.”

He won’t say much, but he knows when your mood drops. Doesn’t make a big deal of it, just puts on your comfort show and hands you your favorite drink without a word.

Secretly protective. He’ll tease you mercilessly, but the moment someone else even thinks about doing the same, he switches up completely. “That’s cute, but they didn’t ask for your opinion.” Cold eyes. Tight jaw. Suddenly very serious.

He can change his tone so fast. Can go from deadpan and chill to teasing in 0.2 seconds. “You really thought you were gonna win that argument?”

NSFW

Talks. So. Much. Shit. Half of it makes you want to slap him, the other half has your legs shaking. “You get like this just from my fingers? You sure you’re ready for my cock?”

Whispers the filthiest things while he’s holding you like you’re fragile. Face buried in his chest, blanket pulled up to your chin, and he’s like, “You looked so pretty choking on my cock earlier. Gonna dream about it tonight.”

Power trips like crazy when you’re a mess for him. Will literally say things like, “Look at you can’t even think straight. I did that. That’s all me.”

WANTS you to squirm. The more flustered and needy you get, the calmer and cockier he becomes. “Aww, look at you. You can’t even talk. What happened to all that attitude, hm?”

His tone of voice drops so low when he's serious. No more playful teasing, just a sharp, commanding, almost cruel tone that makes your knees go weak. “You think I’m gonna be gentle with you after the way you acted today?”

Big on control. Likes manhandling you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while the other is between your legs

Doesn’t let you win unless he wants you to. If you try to tease him, he’ll raise a brow like, “Cute.” And then absolutely rail you until your legs give out.

Definitely a neck-grabber. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you squirm. Especially when you talk back. “Watch your mouth. Or I’ll find better ways to keep it busy.”

Obsessed with your thighs. Bites them. Slaps them. Sleeps with his head between them like they’re his personal comfort zone. “Best pillow I’ve ever had.”

Favorite thing? When you ride him. Claims he’s letting you take control but ends up grabbing your hips and slamming you down harder, just to watch your reaction

Calls you things like “pretty thing” and “baby” in the most degrading way possible.

Possessive in the hottest way. Leaves bite marks just below where clothes cover. Grips your jaw and makes you look at him when you’re close. “Eyes on me, babe.”

Loves to drag things out. Kisses up your thighs and just stops before touching where you need him. Smirks while you beg. “Patience, sweetheart. You’ll thank me later.”

Loves hearing you beg. The more whiny and desperate, the better. He’ll edge you for hours just to hear you plead. “Say please real sweet for me and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

Gets off on making you cry from pleasure. Not sad tears the broken, shaking, can’t-take-it-anymore kind. He’ll wipe them with his thumb and chuckle. “Tears already? We just started.”

He’ll intentionally overstimulate himself just to keep up with you. Like if you're still needy after he finishes, he'll mutter, “So fuckin' greedy,” and keep going anyway, groaning while you squirm. He lives for it.

He’s mean in the moment, but afterward? You’re immediately getting cuddled, praised, fed snacks, and hes putting you into one of his shirts. “You did so good for me. C’mere, lemme hold you.”

But if you ever use your safeword? His demeanor changes instantly. “Okay, okay. You good? Talk to me, baby.” Holds your hand, kisses your forehead. Doing anything that you ask of him

Divider by: @cafekitsune

My Kpop Demon Hunters Masterlist

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spearofheaven · 1 month ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ SYMBIOSIS — venom! geto suguru

SUM. absorbing curses was simple enough, right? until your boyfriend absorbs something that wasn’t quite a curse.

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. 6.2k words. x fem! journalist reader. non canon compliant/au. smut. blood. monsterfucking (?). tentacles. dead chickens (first venom movie ref lol). light bondage. unprotected p in v. consensual recording. oral (f & m receiving). riding. missionary. pet names (baby, princess, etc.) some aftercare.

A/N. another geto repost whoops. positive comments and reblogs are appreciated <33

You were going to strangle your boss.

Or, you would've entertained the idea had it not been for the hefty stack of ALMOST DUE bills cluttered around your kitchen table in bright red ink (and the very real possibility of ending up in jail, whoops).

Maybe you'd just stick with your original idea of writing a heavily worded word document. One that you'd never send, of course. But one that would explain the absurdity of this situation, nonetheless. Using your journalistic degree—and the many years of debt that it'd set you back, to come to an abandoned barn house in the middle of nowhere.

Unsolved mysteries and speculation led you to explore some complaints farmers had about missing chickens. On some hunch that Venom as the city dubbed him had been responsible.

Brown, dried out leaves crunched underneath your feet with each step as you slowly began to approach the abandoned barn. A coyote howled in the distance, the sound of cicadas buzzing around only adding to the animal symphony. You wouldn't be surprised if a chainsaw popped out from the back of the barn and began chasing you down.

"Can't be that bad, right?" You muttered to yourself, standing in front of the tightly shut doors. Trying (and failing) to convince yourself to go through with this investigation instead of tailgating it straight out of this horror scene. You managed to get the heavy door open, its hinges creaking obnoxiously. No chainsaw in sight—okay.

Holding the small candle in front of you, the area around you began to illuminate while you made your way further inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. A couple horses sleeping in their stables, buckets and rakes in almost every corner. Until you approached the chicken coops. Flies buzzed around a couple of the spaces, bunching up in the masses.

Shooing them away, you peered your head inside. And you almost immediately wished that you hadn't. Instead of getting an angry chicken looking back at you, you only got to see a chicken's body laying there. With no sight of the head anywhere. And while you were just a journalist for a mid tier newspaper.. even you could tell that it wasn't normal behavior.

SWISH.

A sudden burst of air hit your face, the hinges of the barn door creaking even further. The culprit had been just a couple meters away and you'd missed it. You jogged outside to try to see if you could catch a glimpse, looking up and down. Only to receive nothing but the buzzing cicadas from earlier.

In the short amount of time it'd taken you to come out, whatever—or whoever was out there, disappeared in the blink of an eye. You were left standing there with your mouth agape, camera weighing heavily in your hand. And now, a missed call from your boss.

"Hello?" You decided to answer the second call, pacing around the barn. Trying to think of just how you were supposed to begin to explain this. How every fiber in your being felt Venom's presence.. without actually facing him. Without actually having any proof that he was even here in the first place.

"I'd appreciate it if you answered my calls the first time around," her voice snapped out from the other line, an agitated groan leaving her lips. "I called to ask how the investigation was going. I'm assuming you have what you need to have the paper by tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" All the blood in your body ran cold, even more than the near death experience. The woman's working you into an early grave.

And all you received in response to your question was another groan. You could practically picture her pinching the bridge of her nose by now. "Yes, tomorrow. I plan on having it released a couple days from now, you know how the process is."

"Right, right, yeah. I'll get the paper to you by tomorrow," You assured her, your steps starting to get faster. It wouldn't be that hard, right? You just had to do what a couple journalists hadn't achieved in months by tomorrow morning. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm screwed," you muttered to yourself, pushing your phone into the depths of your pocket.

The animals woke up from their nap, looking over at you with an unamused expression. "Don't look at me like that," you hissed out, catching a glimpse of them before letting out a groan, "And now I'm arguing with a bunch of animals." A slow breath left your lungs, forcing yourself to calm down. You'd just work with what you had in front of you.

Only drops of blood staining the tan floor in front of you served to prove that you weren't seeing things. You set the candle aside and pulled your camera out of your bag, starting to take pictures from whatever angle you could muster up. Whatever angle would look the most inconspicuous and mysterious to the newspaper editors.

You couldn't help but feel like something was staring at you—gauging every single one of your movements when you stepped out of the barn. The creature wouldn't have been stupid enough to stick around, would it? You looked up at the barn roof, almost expecting to see something ready to attack. But once again, a whole load bucket of absolutely nothing.

You truly didn't get paid enough to deal with this.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

An unquenchable thirst consumed Suguru's being inside and out, the urge completely taking over any last sense of rationale that he had remaining. Taking over every single last one of his thoughts. Even with the warm, iron taste of blood coating every single one of his tastebuds—the need wasn't satisfied. It wasn't nearly enough.

It almost felt like it would never be enough.

Dried crimson smudges smeared across elongated canines, pieces of raw flesh sticking to the ends. A mix of his own drool and blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and bare body. A body that wasn't really quite his own. Or more accurately, a body that wasn't just his anymore.

Suguru wasn't completely sure what the thing was, originally thinking of it as curse when he'd been sent out by Yaga to 'handle' the issue. Ironically enough, for the same thing that you were investigating just now. Except that he went to absorb it, the black glob in the ground didn't behave anything like a cursed spirit.

The taste of vomit and shit was one that Suguru was used to by now. The taste of every single one of humanity's evil doings—from lust to greed—sticking to the back of his throat while his body absorbed that very same evil. It was a taste that he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard

The little glob didn't taste like anything going down, which probably should've served as the first red flag. One of the other things was that the little thing didn't exactly appear on his command—much like the others in his repertoire, but rather when the thing wanted to make itself known. Like it had rational thinking.

It'd somehow bonded with Suguru's DNA, latching onto him for survival. Even with every method that he'd tried to take it off—prying it off with a metal bar, burning it off, freezing, it was all pointless. The little thing would just stick its gooey tongue out at him before retreating back to the safety of his own body. Going so far as to claim that they were the 'perfect match.'

Dead chicken heads cluttered around his feet, the sound of bones crunching against each other and the last desperate clucks in vain still echoed throughout his skull. Even a couple pieces of flesh remained on the tips of his teeth, the creature inside of him savoring each last bit of the pieces. Better than it being a human, at the very least.

He'd become too sloppy. That much was clear after you'd almost caught him in the barn earlier. If you'd been even just a second faster, you would've noticed him sticking to the side of the roof with no problem. Despite every sense in his body being enhanced, he'd almost gotten caught. All for his blood thirsty to have chickens before going back home for dinner.

How'd this even become a problem? Suguru had made it a point to take just a few chickens—just enough to satiate the thirst that seemed to run deep within his veins. Taking a few from a different farms scattered across the countryside shouldn't have been suspicious.. and yet here he was. Being investigated.

The smart thing to do would just to leave the chickens alone for now, right?

Just leave the whole thing alone. That would be easy...

Until he had the stupid idea to swing by your apartment. Just to make sure that you'd gotten home safe after driving in the snow. And maybe think of some lie of how he got stuck out with Gojo on a mission again, anything that would ease the suspicions you had.

After spending what seemed to be an eternity waiting for some kind of sign to show up, for the culprit to make themselves known—you decided to call it a night. With just a couple photographs and a new conversation topic for your therapist in the following days. And now you were stuck writing a multi page article with nothing but good vibes and a couple dead chickens.

Can after can of unfinished energy drinks cluttered the expanse of your desk, serving as a paperweight for the several papers that laid in front of you. The laptop screen in front of you illuminated your face, nearly blinding as every tab you could find in regard to Venom was opened up. Which was a complete grand total of three articles.

All built up on pure speculation. Exactly what the farmers had told you during their interview—rambling about it being a two headed monster, a soul snatcher, a demon. The eerie presence that hung around the farm was too strong to be ignored.. and yet, no one had actually found the source behind it. No source, no reliable clues, nothing. Just a whole load of absolutely nothing.

The simple fact remained that no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it. Or probably, no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it and live to tell the story. The photos didn't offer much either—they were all either blurred, heavily edited, or just outright AI generated. Each failed result just made the pounding headache thumping against your head all the much worse.

Just what were you supposed to tell your boss and the multitudes of readers?

A loud thump against your window distracted you from looking at your computer screen for different job offers. A thump too heavy to just be a result of the snowfall outside. To open it or not to open it? You stayed still in your spot, gulping down more of the battery acid to keep yourself for a couple more hours. Until another thump. And the third thump came.

You reluctantly got off the chair, padding over towards the window. Nothing. The night sky was completely empty, albeit for a couple snow flakes that were starting to coat the streets in a thin white sheet. Your gaze went down to the three pebbles lying on the floor, matching the number of thuds you'd heard earlier.

"What the fuck?" You muttered to yourself, looking up from the pebbles. The words died in your throat when you looked up to see big, white eyes boring into your own. Not exactly what you were expecting to see living in the second floor. You scrambled away from the window, your heart beating against your chest as you heard the creature scratching against the glass.

The same creature that you were trying to write an article about was scratching against your window, each one grating against your eardrums. Had it been tracking your movements down since you'd left the barn..? Before you had the chance to begin questioning it further, it slid through the crack in the window like slime. Reaching up and up until it reached the lock.

Slipping inside of your apartment in a span of seconds, Venom stood in front of you. Its head pressed against the ceiling, taking over the space it had available with ease. Chills ran down your back when the creature met your gaze—his stare unsettling. The way a predator would look at its prey. It didn't help that you could practically see it salivating as it took you in.

The chickens were the appetizer and you were about to be the full course meal.

"You're the one writing those articles," not a question, just a simple statement. Its voice came out like something out of an alien movie. You rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly looking up at the goo-like creature. Trying to figure out what lie you could pull out of your ass.

"I mean, not exactly. There's a lot of people writing those articles, mine don't really get as much traction," you were babbling the first thing that came to mind, trying to buy yourself enough time. Enough time to figure out if jumping out of the second window in just your pajamas was too stupid of an idea. Except... that Venom wasn't even paying attention to you anymore.

It busied itself with picking up one of the various news articles, an indignant scoff leaving its mouth. Holding up the offensive piece of paper up to his face, its eyes narrowing down at you. "If you answer this wrong, I'll be eating your brains. If you answer it right, I'll be eating your arm. Do you think this is the most flattering picture of me?"

You looked over at the picture, trying to discern what was so wrong with it. Seeing Venom face to face, this was the closest thing that resembled it. "It's red but it still looks like you somewhat," you shrugged. Though your eyes quickly widened seeing Venom lick their lips, almost hungrily. Like it'd been waiting for you to say the wrong answer.

"But no, I don't think it's the most flattering. Doesn't look like you at all," you quickly backtracked with a nervous laugh, stepping back just the slightest bit. Just to where the creature wouldn't notice you were slowly slipping away. The creature seemed satisfied with that answer, slamming the photo down onto the wooden desk.

"So unfair that I'm still getting compared to that thing."

"That thing?"

"Carnage."

Venom picked up the camera that laid next to the disorganized stack of papers—holding it up to his face. "Not bad, could've done with some better lighting," he tsked, looking through the pictures you'd taken earlier at the farm. "There wasn't any better lighting," you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest. The subtle click of the camera filled up the room as the creature continued to look through the photographs.

Until even it got tired of multiple copies of the same photos. Venom held up the camera lens to face its slimy face, having the nerve to smile just as the flash came on. "There. A much better picture for your references," the creature spoke almost proudly.. holding up your camera to take another photo of itself. Taking on a more serious expression. "Replace those ugly ones on Google."

Venom moved across your room curiously, exploring it like something out a museum. Picking up the articles you had scattered throughout your desk, holding it up underneath his scrutinizing gaze. And then.. the first change started to happen. Its mask began to disintegrate, human flesh starting to show underneath its cover.

You were delirious. That was the only possible explanation. The fumes from the filthy manure finally infiltrated your brain. The sight of the dead chickens was starting to mess up your cognitive function. "Suguru?"

"Surprise," now he sounded nervous, looking everywhere in the room except at your face.

All the little signs that Suguru had been displaying throughout the past couple weeks slowly started to make sense. From being insistent to be the one to wash his uniform (not that you'd minded at the time) to coming back home at the ass crack of dawn. Claiming that a mission held him up. And still, you found yourself wanting to believe that maybe you were just hallucinating.

"I didn't scare you too badly, right?" he approached you slowly, like he was the one that had to be cautious. You stayed frozen in spot, your mouth agape even as he came to hold your hips.

"Wait, so you're the murderer? How long has it been going on for? A-And why'd you show up here as Venom?" The questions spilled out of you, struggling to even begin to wrap your head around this.

Choosing to ignore your other questions, he simply answered, "You wanted to write your article, didn't you? What better way to do that than to keep track of our exclusive interview." Your phone looked ridiculously tiny held in between two digits, one of his fingertips tapping at the screen. To get the camera app set up?

Suguru placed the camera against one of the perfume bottles on the desk, capturing your bed in the frame. "What's that for?" you questioned, looking over at him as he moved around your room. No longer with that curious gaze, but the usual comfortability instead. "It'll be easier for you to remember if you have it digitized."

Your bed squeaked underneath his weight as Suguru went to lie down, resting his hands behind his head. "Come on, princess. The interview's more comfortable this way," he patted down on the spot next to him, a couple of your stuffed animals flying to the floor from the sheer force of his hand.

"So, what do you want to know?" Suguru questioned, running one of his fingers down the sheer material of your sleep shirt. Bunching up the thin material underneath his hands before slowly raising it up to your stomach. Abnormally cold hands slid up your torso, goosebumps forming instinctively at the touch.

"Why'd you murder the chickens? Not like we're missing any food at home," You looked over at the camera, making sure it was recording. And trying to avoid looking at Suguru. Was he still the person that you fell in love with? Well, clearly not.. but maybe, just maybe, the symbiote hadn't changed him?

You weren't sure how to deal with the possibility that the thing inside him had changed him completely. But Suguru was still gentle, his fingertips lightly caressing your body while he let out a small hum. Considering his answer.

"The thing inside me craves blood. Morning, day, and night. It's like an urge. An itch that I can't really control," Suguru moved his hand up your shirt, letting out a small hum. "I know that doesn't answer your question. Give me a bit."

Suguru grasped one of your breasts in his hand, rubbing his thumb against your areola. Feeling your nipples getting harder and harder underneath his fingertip, both from the cold seeping in through the slightly ajar window and his actions. He did the same to your right breast, slowly taking his time to move down your body. Eliciting all the goosebumps he could muster within you.

Suguru's fingers rubbed slightly against your clothed cunt, tracing the outline of your folds through the flimsy material. "Or better yet. Why do you think I murdered the chickens?" the deflection was smooth, even you had to admit that much. His fingers were just as smooth, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your already glistening cunt.

The two digits began moving in a scissoring motion, slowly starting to spread you open. It was hard to focus on the damn chickens when all you wanted was for him to keep going. Your hips bucked up to meet his hand, getting the slightest bit of friction against his palm. Just as soon as that sense of relief came over you, it was quickly ripped away.

Suguru pulled his fingers out of your pussy, bringing them up to his lips. Wrapping his lips around them and sucking on them like a decadent dish, rolling his eyes back. "I'll be nice, even though you didn't answer. Want a little taste?" You simply nodded at his question, leaning up to meet his lips. Suguru closed the gap in between you two, pressing his lips against your own.

The first thing you could taste was yourself, the taste clinging onto his lips for dear life. Your tongue ran over his bottom lip, picking up the remnants.

“If I knew why'd you murdered the chickens, I wouldn't be asking," you pointed out, a small gasp leaving your lips. His thumb teased your clit yet again, teasing you to that crescendo before letting it drop again.

"But you're so smart, baby. I wanted to hear your thoughts on why chickens. Why not dogs? Why not cats?" Suguru spoke in puzzles, only serving to confuse you even further. "Come on, put that big brain to use and let me hear your thoughts."

"Because.. it's easier to overlook?" You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, trying to put your 'big brain' to use without blanking out completely.

Suguru clicked his tongue, nodding his head from his spot in between your legs. "Something like that, yeah. I thought no one would really notice if a couple chickens went missing," he looked up at you, amethyst eyes almost seeming to sparkle underneath the moon.

The only time where Suguru didn't feel like the hunger was all consuming was when he was in between your legs, eating you out to his heart's content (or until you had to pull him off you after the nth orgasm, either or). "Could smell you all the way outside the window. Such a good scent," he all but purred into your skin, completely removing your panties off.

Just how enhanced were his senses now? Maybe that should be your next question. If you remembered, that is.

Sharp canines grazed upon your inner thighs, the movement surprisingly gentle. For someone who'd just bit off a chicken's head with those same teeth, anyways. His long tongue licked a stripe up your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin and savoring the taste all the while. Your hips bucked up in need of something more, only to quickly being pinned down by his hands.

"Let me take my time, princess. Savor this," He looked over at you, a firm grip on your thighs. "I'll give you what you want, I promise," Suguru hadn't even done anything—and he was already starting to get delirious. He could practically taste you from here, could feel the scent of you completely invading his senses. All he could think about was you, you, and you.

The stretch of the symbiote's long, pink tongue as he pushed it in deeper into your cunt had you gripping the sheets beneath you all that much tighter. The silken sheets bunching up underneath your vice grip. Just the tongue was enough to reach up where your boyfriend's cock normally did.

You writhed against the silk bedsheets, your eyes struggling to stay open as the tongue pushed further inside of you. Filling you up with so much ease. It slowly retracted, pushing back inside of you with one swift motion. "D-Don't stop," you let out a gasp, your back arched while the tongue reached deep within you.

"So tasty," a low gravelly voice that didn't quite belong to Suguru sounded from the back of his throat. The different entity living within his body. "Don't get used to it," Suguru's voice came out muffled, tongue-deep inside of your cunt. His tongue eagerly lapped up and every drop of your slick, coating his mouth and chin.

He pulled away for the slightest bit, letting his spit dribble down on to your pussy. Watching intently at the way your walls clenched at just that, the way you twitched with just the lightest of movements. "F-Fuck, Sugu!" A whine left your lips, feeling his fingers push into you again. Curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot inside of you with each thrust.

"So good," he babbled against your cunt, the tip of his tongue swirling against your clit. "T-Taste so fucking good, I love you," Suguru rutted his hips pathetically onto the edge of the bed, leaving his precum onto the sheets. The hand that wasn't essentially knuckle-deep inside you wrapped around his cock, thrusting himself in time with your own.

The symbiote's tongue was quick, precise in the way that it flicked around your clit. Suguru swirled it around the nub, letting out mindless groans and babbles as he leaked further into his hand. Your cunt gushed around his fingers—squelching with every thrust of his fingers he gave. You tightened up around them, your fingers digging in further into the bedsheets.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna cum," you babbled out, your toes curling. It was just so deep, so good, so much of everything. "Cum all over my fingers, pretty. Wanna taste you so bad," Suguru managed to get out through his own whines and babbles. You felt that pressure inside of you build up before finally releasing—covering his fingers in your release when you came.

Suguru took his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue to lap up every last drop that started to leak down your thighs. With one final kiss against your folds, he pulled away to clean away his fingers. You sat up, coming face to face with his cock now that he was standing up.

And to call it a beast was short of an understatement.

Your swollen lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, struggling to completely get him inside of your mouth. It was just so.. thick. You looked up at him, your eyes starting to water up from the way your jaw was starting to slack. "You don't have to, princess," Suguru cooed down at you, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Though, even he would be a fool to deny this sight was anything short of perfect.

You looked absolutely sinful on your knees, your cheeks hollowing out in some attempt to ease the way down. You ignored the warning, slowly starting to bob your head down his shaft. Becoming complacent with the fact you wouldn't dare to try to take all of him in—not unless you wanted a quick trip to the hospital and an awkward explanation to the ER doctors.

With the spit pooled up in your mouth, you blew bubbles on the tip of Suguru's cock before letting it dribble down his shaft. One of your hands wrapped around the base, slowly starting to twist your wrist and start to jerk off what you couldn't reach. "F-Fuck, that's it, princess. So good," Suguru moaned out, one of his own hands resting on the back of your head.

"If you want me to keep going—answer me this. Have you hurt any civilians?" You pulled your mouth away, a string of saliva connecting you to the tip of his leaking cock. Suguru let out an exasperated groan, "No. I haven't. I don't want to hurt any people."

Even from this awkward angle on the floor, you could tell that he was telling the truth. Finally. You continued to drool on his cock, the filthy sounds of you gagging on it when the tip hit the back of your throat echoing through the thin walls. Your tongue traced through the thick veins on the sides, feeling Suguru's thighs twitch beside you.

"O-Oh f-fuck," Suguru bit on his fist, his head lolling back the more you tried to push his cock inside your mouth. Your tongue licked down the underside of his cock, going all the way to his heavy balls. You looked up to see Suguru struggling to meet your gaze, his chest heaving and strangled breaths leaving his lips.

Your tongue drew small circles on the sac before you took it in your mouth, sucking on them. "Wait, wait," Suguru started off, gently pulling you off, "Need to come inside you." He grabbed your hand, helping you off the floor.

Though the camera was still running on the nightstand, you decided to make mental notes of everything he was saying. Just in case. You weren't even completely sure if you'd remember by the end of the night. Suguru made himself comfortable just like at the start of the night—and the pieces started to click together. No way the man wanted you to ride him now.

"S-Suguru, I can't," the words escaped your lips in a hiss, slowly impaling yourself onto the first two inches of the large cock underneath you. Not even enough to completely get the tip in. Each inch felt like it was splitting you apart all over again.

"Yes you can, you're taking it so well baby," Suguru cooed, watching as you slowly sunk yourself down on his cock. Squeezing the life out of him while you tried to find your momentum.

You could already imagine the words on your tombstone— death by monster dick.

Suguru placed his hands on your hips, gently squeezing the flesh to ease your movements. "There you go, that's it. That's it, take it for me," he encouraged your movements with each bounce you were giving on his—the symbiote's(?)—cock.

Suguru looked over to see his cock nudging a bulge in your tummy when he thrusted up into you, the sight nearly having him close to an orgasm again. He thrusted in deeper, watching how the tip protruded with each one. "S-Sugu, you're in too deep," you moaned out, practically feeling the man in your guts. And he wasn't even fully in. You wouldn't be surprised if he could reach your guts.

Your hips gyrated, trying to keep up some sense of rhythm. You pressed your hands firmly against their chest for some semblance of balance, feeling the goon underneath your fingertips sticking to your fingers. "Take it, take it," Suguru let out a moan of his own, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. His feet pressed against the mattress, using you like a toy as he thrust himself in and out of your cunt.

"S-Sugu, too much, too much," you babbled out, struggling to keep up with the pace you'd set for yourself. That, and the absurdly big dick jackhammering you.

"You tired, baby?" His tone was sickly sweet as he spoke, pulling you off his cock and setting you down on the bed. "It's okay, I'll take care of you now. Just lay there and look pretty."

Suguru's body began to change back into its original form, the symbiote retreating back into his body. Thick, extensive tentacles protruded out of Suguru's back, each one wrapping around one of your limbs. Suguru slowly rubbed his cock across your folds, covering his length with your slick until it glistened against the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

Suguru slowly pushed the tip inside, feeling your walls tighten up against his shaft. "Is that better?" He looked down to watch for any signs of discomfort, and upon not finding any, he placed your legs up on his shoulders. Using the angle as leverage, hips snapping deeper inside of you.

"Taking everything I give you so well," his finger lightly caressed your cheek, the sharp thrust of his hips completely contradicting the gentleness he was trying to give. Your cunt covered his shaft with your slick, squelching as he slid it in and out of you. "Rub my clit, please, please," you let out a mewl, keeping your gaze directly on his own.

"Can't say no when you beg so pretty," His thumb slowly began to rub your clit, building up your orgasm for the second time tonight. Your walls clenched around him tightly, milking his cock in the process. Everything started to get too much, too little, you weren't really sure what you wanted. The only thing that you did know was, well, you wanted to cum.

“So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was pronounced with a thrust, sweat dripping down from his forehead and covering his skin. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, a moan leaving your lips as you came. It was both a sight and a sound that Suguru couldn't find himself getting tired of even if he tried. His own hips began to grow sloppy, his thrusts losing all sense of rhythm while his balls continued to grow heavier.

A groan erupted from the back of Suguru's throat, his head thrown back while his eyes barely managed to stay open. "Take it baby, it's all yours," Suguru let out a groan, his hips growing more erratic. Your messy pussy was pushing him closer and closer to his own orgasm. You simply nodded your head against the pillow, your nails digging into his forearm.

"Y-Yeah, all mine," your moan came out so sweetly, being the last thing to push Suguru over the edge. Ropes of cum spurted deep inside of your cunt, filling you up almost immediately. He didn't bother to move just yet, remaining buried deep inside of your cunt. The only thing that he did do was start to press slow, sloppy kisses on your calves before setting your legs down on the bed.

A soft whine left your lips when Suguru pulled out his twitching cock, the tentacles retreating back inside of him. Globs of cum dripped down out of you, streaming down your thighs and ass. "I never harmed anyone in what I've been doing, by the way. I don't want to harm anyone, I promise. I'm still your Suguru," he whispered, low enough to where your phone wouldn't pick it up.

"Still your Suguru. Your Suguru," Entrusting those words to you and you only. His thick fingers pushed inside of your dripping cunt, pushing his cum back inside of you. Filling you completely yet again. Suguru pulled out of you once again, wiping his hand off with a rag on the bed stand.

"You okay?" Suguru whispered, using the rag to gently wipe away the sweat that dribbled down your forehead. One of his hands reached down, fingertips gently rubbing against your thighs in a bleak attempt to soothe the ache.

"No, think you and that cock earlier might've broken me," you mumbled, your voice coming out hoarse. At this rate, you'd have a noise complaint taped to your front door first thing in the morning. Suguru reached over for the nightstand next to you, opening up a water bottle. "Sit up for me just a little."

Your body ached even further, pushing yourself so at least your head would be straight. "I know, I know it hurts," Did he really? Suguru took a hold of your chin, lightly tipping it up before giving you slow gulps of water. Your throat cleared up with each sip, but you could practically feel your body crying out underneath you with each second you stayed up.

"You're okay, pretty girl. I'll take care of you, did so good for me," Suguru murmured praises against your back, wrapping his arms around your stomach and keeping you close. Keeping you far warmer than any blanket you've bought as of yet.

Silence clung onto the room, but it was a comfortable silence this time around. All of the previous tension had disappeared, leaving the two of you spent. "I know you're still my Suguru, but thank you for answering the questions. You scared the shit out of me when you popped up in the suit."

"I know. Wouldn't hurt you or another person, though. Please trust me," Suguru peppered a kiss onto your upper back, continuing with his gentle motions. After nearly splitting your body in half, he was being delicate. Keeping you safe and assured.

Suguru looked over at the drawer where your phone rested, remembering all about the 'interview' he'd signed up for. "I'm gonna go see how photogenic we were, I'll be right back," He spoke quietly, pressing a small kiss onto your forehead before getting up from the squeaky mattress. It'd been a miracle that the old thing hadn't given out just from tonight.

"Yeah, okay," you spoke through ragged breaths, watching him stand up and move through the shadows of your room. Suguru took his time in picking your phone up and looking through it, watching every second of the 'film.'

"Think we're gonna have to do re-do the interview," Suguru noted, watching through the footage recorded. The phone had toppled over around 1/3 into the video, completely coming to a stop shortly after with a 'storage full' pop-up. Your chest heaved, barely registering any of the words he was saying. Interview..?

Oh, right. The Venom article you still had to finish writing. By tomorrow. Very important.

"You don't mind that right, baby?"

1K notes · View notes

majestyeverlasting · 3 months ago

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𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

This piece contains 18+ content Based on this lovely request pairing joel miller x female reader summary when the winds of change scatter the buds of a new, forbidden love, they bloom anew after the end of the world [wc 8k] contains pre & post-outbreak world, dbf age-gap relationship, fluff, smut, mentions of death, angst, hopeful ending

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

“I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.”

—F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

Jakarta, Indonesia. An aerial view of a sea of skyscrapers shining in the night. Joel blinks drowsily as he spams the channel button several numbers ahead. If he lingered a second longer, he would’ve seen the overseas news coverage shift to a bustling hospital ward.

A black and white Western plays now; two cowboys fire their weapons in a quick draw. Gunfire from surrounding spectators ensues in a crisp, rapid spray. Sarah pads down the stairs just as a wounded man tumbles backwards over a second-story balcony.

“Dad?” she murmurs.

Joel mutes the movie at her tone. “Everything okay? What’s up?”

She nervously plays with one of her springy curls. “I forgot I had a project due tomorrow,” she says. Joel blinks a few times as if he misheard her. “For Ms. Johnson’s science class. We have to make a 3D plant cell model.”

That prompts him to sit up from his reclined position, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Sarah Noelle.”

“The substitute teacher forgot to remind us today,” she reasons.

“C’mere.” She shuffles closer with big, doe eyes. “I ask if you’ve got homework every day after school, and what did you tell me earlier this evening? Bet you knew about this a week ago.” When her face falls even more, Joel resists his knee-jerk reaction to backtrack and comfort her.

“You gotta stay on top of stuff like this, bug,” he says. “Today it’s a project, but tomorrow it’s rent or a write-up for your job. Can’t hold off on stuff till the last minute.”

“I’m sorry.”

His knees pop as he pushes to his feet. “Don’t gotta apologize,” he says lightly. “We got supplies here?”

“Just stuff like crayons and markers,” she says.

Joel’s chest deflates with a heavy sigh, and Sarah bites her lip as he runs a hand through his hair. There’s more annoyance in his eyes than frustration, but she can understand that. It’s a quarter past nine, and it’s been a long day.

He grabs his phone and hands it to her. After years of owning a BlackBerry, he’d finally switched to an iPhone.

“See what places are open.” She nods gratefully. “And I ain’t mad at ya, alright? We all forget things sometimes.”

Sarah watches as he heads upstairs to change out of his pajama pants. As soon as he disappears, she taps into the message app.

Joel (9:17 PM) Are you awake?

You (9:19 PM) Sarah?

Joel (9:19 PM) Yeah it’s me! I forgot I had a project due!!! You know about plant cells right?

You (9:20 PM) Loaded question. I know enough, lol.

Joel (9:21 PM) Can you come help?? We’re about to go out for supplies

The night air is warm. Sarah trails Joel to the truck but doesn’t get in after rounding to her side. He watches her through the window as he starts the engine. She’s staring next door to Cal’s house, and he doesn’t know why until you slip out the front door, ready for an adventure.

It’s September now, and they’d attended your graduation back in May.

You’d moved back in with your dad a week ago. The two of you had butt heads in the time leading up to your college departure, and you didn’t see a lot of each other during those four years. You were finally starting to come back around. So much of his strictness and rigidity was born out of love, even if that truth got muddled along the way.

Not only was the move a means of saving money and rekindling your relationship, but Austin had way more opportunities than the college town you left.

Joel’s eyes fall on you as you slide into the passenger seat, all nonchalance and ease. A pleasant, floral scent drifts his way when you bend forward to set your purse on the floor.

“Long time no see, stranger,” you say.

“Guess somebody got phoned as backup,” Joel says as he pulls out of the driveway, one arm resting on the center console.

“Can’t blame a girl for employing all her resources.” You peek back at Sarah and share a smile.

Joel huffs an amused sound. “Cal asleep yet?”

“He’s hanging on by a thread,” you say. “Told him I was going out to smoke pot at the lake like old times.”

Sarah snorts at that, and Joel meets her gaze in the rearview with an unimpressed look.

“Dad, I’m twelve, not two.”

“Y'all are gonna make me go gray.”

“What are you, forty-five, forty-six?" you ask. "I’m pretty sure that’s already starting to happen.” You reach over to playfully twirl a strand of hair at the nape of his neck.

His shoulders square as he fights a shiver. Sarah is none the wiser as her laughter carries from the backseat.

•••

Broad-shouldered in the dim light of the kitchen, Joel stands at the sink, washing dried glue from his hands as he hums a low tune. The gentle rush of the water prevents him from hearing you as you tiptoe up behind him. Sarah went to bed fifteen minutes ago when the two of you insisted you’d handle cleanup. All things considered, the cell model turned out decent for such a late notice.

Joel jerks when you poke a finger into his side. You’re fixed with an exasperated glare as you withdraw your touch with an innocent smile. Then, foolishly, he redirects his gaze back to the sink. You promptly deliver a poke to his other side that makes him curl in on himself.

“Would you quit that?” he asks, voice tight with the threat of a laugh.

“No.”

Even then, he smiles as he dries his hands. You rest your forearms on the island and watch. When his eyes find yours, there’s a weight to your gaze. Joel doesn’t fight against the flutter in his gut. It’d been a couple of years since he had.

“Thanks for comin’ over for her,” he says.

“You know I’ve always gotta pull through for my little bestie.”

Joel chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck, eyes roving over you. “Never got to properly ask how you’ve been settling in,” he says. “Got stuck talkin’ about chloroplasts and ribosomes all night.”

“And the endoplasmic reticulum,” you quip.

“Can’t forget the good ole ER.”

The two of you share a hushed laugh. The crinkles around Joel’s eyes make your chest expand with a warmth that no longer feels so wrong.

“I’m good, though,” you say. “Even though I have no idea what the hell I’m doing half the time.” The air shifts as you sigh.

“I don’t think any of us do,” Joel hums.

“It’ll get better,” he assures. “Wish I could tell you when, but one day you’ll look around and realize you’ve got a better grasp on things.” He thinks for a moment. “On who you are and who you wanna be.”

The gruff honesty of Joel’s words makes it easy to believe him.

After a few quiet beats, he twists an arm behind himself to scratch a tricky spot on his back. Unfortunately, his inflexibility hinders him.

Wordless, you step up alongside him and raise your hand to rake your fingernails just beneath his shoulder blades. He immediately relaxes with a grateful exhale. Your touch remains after the itch dissipates, shifting into steady passes of your palm along his back. Joel can’t find it in himself to break the still intimacy of the moment. When he does, the sense of loss is immediate.

“Appreciate it.” Joel clears his throat. “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

Outside, there’s a quiet symphony of insects. A few moths fly around Joel’s porch light. The wood creaks under your footsteps as you head towards the stairs. Joel stops at the top, while you step down. He expects you to continue to your house, but you turn around to peer up at him with those knowning eyes of yours.

“Go on,” he encourages, tapping your chin with a gentle knuckle.

Your lashes flutter.

“Go.” His voice comes out thicker.

“Alright, alright.” The smallest smile curls at your lips. “I’m going, Mr. Miller.”

•••

Every once in a while, a night came along that reminded him that sleeplessness was never too far away. Never did he suspect it’d be because of Cal’s kid. Autopilot gets him through his morning routine, and, before long, he stands in a sunlit kitchen.

The coffee machine whirs as it fills his mug, the rich, nutty smell slowly permeating the air.

Sarah trudges over to snake her arms around his waist. He smiles when she nuzzles her face into his shirt with a sleepy groan, breathing him in.

Joel blows into the mug and takes a small sip. She holds out a hand for it next.

“S’hot,” he warns, but passes it over. A baby sip is enough to make her face scrunch in distaste. “Still no bueno?”

She shakes her head. He chuckles and squeezes her. “Uncle Tommy should be here soon. We’ll grab you a bite to eat on the way.”

Sarah makes a satisfied sound, steals his phone from his front pocket, and stalks away.

Joel (7:23 AM) It was really good seeing you last night

You (8:19 AM) Likewise <3

You hadn’t bothered asking if it was Sarah. Deep down, you knew it was, but you would’ve welcomed those words from Joel all the same, if not more.

He’s the one who ends up reading your reply.

•••

Come late Monday afternoon, the Miller brothers finish setting the last fence panel as fluffy white clouds roll in to shield Austin from the full brunt of the sun.

Back at home, Joel showers and eats leftovers. When he hits the living room again, he steps on a dainty hoop earring that he realizes is his ticket back to you.

A helicopter flies overhead as you get out of your car. The teenage boys playing basketball in the cul-de-sac gawk up towards the sky with exaggerated wonder. A presence wades into your periphery once you reach your trunk.

Joel stops a few yards away, still standing in the plush grass between your lots.

“I got it.” He gestures to the grocery bags and waits for your permission.

You step aside. “Thanks.”

Cal hasn’t made it home from the office yet, but inside, Joel moves as if his friend is bound to round the corner at any moment. After setting all the grocery bags on the kitchen island, he fishes into his pocket.

“Think I have something of yours.” He presents the earring in the palm of his large hand. “Look familiar?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, oh my gosh.” You take it from him without hesitation. “Dude.” Joel's eyes soften as you gush. “Thank you so much.”

“‘Course.” He rubs his palms against his jeans and takes an easy look around. It’s quiet.

“How was work?” Your tone is genuine.

“Good. We, uh, had a fence job,” Joel starts with a shrug. “You know that new housing development on the other side of the lake?” He points in the general direction, and you nod. “A couple just moved in. Real nice lot.”

He gets a shy look about him for expounding, but you only smile as you unbag the groceries. “I think I’d tap out after getting the first couple pickets into the ground,” you admit.

“S’just patience and practice.”

“Imagine someone like me building a fence.” You motion a sorry hand down your body.

He takes you in. Perhaps, more earnestly than he should. You’re wearing a tennis skirt and a baby tee. Your skin looks soft. The air shifts.

As you grab a can of tomato paste to take to the pantry, you let your backside brush against Joel’s crotch with more pressure than necessary. He instinctively hovers a hand at your waist but takes a respectful step back as his cheeks warm.

After you put everything away, you study him. “I appreciate everything you said the other night about things getting better,” you say. “Sarah’s lucky to have you.”

Joel tucks his head down as if the compliment will fly over him and stick to something else. But it hits him square in the chest, seeps into his ribcage, and forces him to feel it. No matter how many houses or fences he raised, sidewalks or driveways he framed, Sarah would always be the best thing to come out of his efforts.

“I started pushing my dad away around that age,” you say. “It means something that she still thinks the world of you.”

You move to stand in front of Joel. He doesn’t back away. Not even when you pluck an invisible piece of lint off his shirt, then smooth a hand down his sturdy chest. The alarm bells are distant in your head, but chime louder in his.

Joel knows he should be the one to walk away, but reasons that there’s no harm in your crush. Before long, you’d find your footing in the world, and your focus would be swept elsewhere. The attention was nice as long as he didn’t bite back. You’d been biting since you were twenty.

This time around is different, however.

You take a chance and raise a hand to his scruffy cheek. “I think quite highly of you myself,” you murmur.

Joel doesn't push you away when you lean in to capture his lips with your own.

His eyes flutter closed as he dares to reciprocate. Everything about him is impossibly gentle, from the way his large hands settle on your waist to the fragile way he kisses as if you’ll fall apart. A silent war rages within him all the while. The brush of his scruff is prickly, but his lips are softer than you imagined. He tastes like spearmint gum.

You startle away from him as another helicopter passes in the sky. The picture frames rattle. You lean in with the intent to continue kissing Joel, but he recedes up the shore instead of running towards the sea.

There’s a reluctant finality to the way he pushes you away by the hip and runs a hand over his mouth. It’s as if he’s attempting to rid himself of the feeling of your lips, except it doesn’t go away. Neither does the cloud of want clear from his vision.

“I should go.” His tone doesn’t match his words, but he steps forward to leave nonetheless.

You’re right there to block his way. There’s enough space to weave around you, but he pretends you’re keeping him here when he’s never in his life been pinned down by anyone or anything.

“Go where?” you challenge lightly. “Is Sarah home?”

Joel considers lying, but you’ve only ever drawn the truth out of him. “At a friend’s.”

“Then what’s the rush?” Your eyes don’t leave his. “Quit denying yourself for once in your life.”

Joel’s throat works. “This ain’t right.”

“It’s not wrong.”

Right and wrong. Good and evil. And now you’ve proposed a middle ground that, coming from you, sounds like a lovely place to be.

You slip a hand beneath the hem of Joel’s shirt, grazing your fingernails down the pudge of his belly. It’s a maddening, lighthearted gesture.

“The middle’s not so bad,” you insist. “We can make it good.”

•••

Joel loses his mind at some point between his front door and his bedroom. With the way you touch him, and tease him, and smile into too-short kisses, he never stood a chance. He’s heard all the jokes about what it takes to keep up with a pretty young thing, but now he’s living it himself. You’re both naked and wanting in his bed.

He’d had the upper hand for a short while, nestling between your thighs until you came undone around his thick, skillful fingers.

A lovely flush colors his neck and upper chest as he prepares to rip open the foil package of a condom. Before he can make a clean tear, you reach out to take it from him.

“May I?” Your smile is sweet.

Joel admires your French manicure as you pull the condom out, taking your precious time. His stomach flips when you meet his gaze again because the upturn of your lips now flirts with mischief. Impatience flickers in his chest as his want only grows.

“Ain’t got all evening,” he says, voice thick but light.

“I know you don’t.” The tip of your index finger finds the pearly bead along his slit, spreading it in a slow circle that makes his stomach quiver. “Practically about to fall apart on me right now,” you lilt.

Joel’s exasperation rises as a weak huff of laughter. He knows there’s nothing clever or provocative he can say to inspire a sense of haste within you. So he settles on the truth since it’s the only stripped, shaky thing left alongside his desire.

“I'm achin', sweetheart.”

The raw quality of his voice harkens mercy from somewhere amid your fun. The stars over Austin align in time with your careful roll of the condom down the veiny strain of his need. Joel trembles through it, jaw tightening when you seal the deal by reaching down between his legs to massage the delicate, hanging weight of him.

Without warning, Joel pushes you backwards, and your head meets the pillows as he crowds over you. It’s as if invisible chains have been broken. He braces one hand near your face to the flustered sound of your giggles while he gingerly grips himself with the other. A dark thatch of curls rests at his base. Your legs fall open wider for him with ease.

Your breath hitches when he bumps his tip against your swollen bud, then glides down to catch at your waiting entrance. There’s no further hesitation or preamble. Joel’s eyes meet yours in silent acknowledgement that your relationship will never be the same.

There’s no mourning, only your joint sighs as he eases into your warmth. It’s a slow, snug push that leaves you no choice but to be aware of every solid inch of him, every vein and ridge. The initial stretch makes way for the dizzying relief of fullness. Joel burrows until he’s encompassed so wholly that he can’t go any further, exhaling your name.

Your face scrunches as he begins to pull back out in a careful drag. Your hands grip his shoulders as your legs hook around him.

“Joel.” It’s an awed, desperate sound.

"I gotcha," he soothes. "Easy does it."

A whimper escapes you as he finds a deep, measured rhythm. He’s reaching a tender place within you that shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. Your mouth opens like you have something to say, but nothing comes out.

“Lost all your words?” He has the nerve to ask as if his voice doesn’t sound punched-out. “Had so much to—Christ—so much to say a minute ago.”

The rugged weight of him, paired with his body heat and the skilled thrusts of his hips, continues to render you speechless for the first time in a long time. All you know at this moment is him. It’s lovely and terrifying all the same.

Joel slows, realizing you need it. “Breathe for me, babygirl.”

He leans down to kiss your neck, scruff brushing your skin. His lips are soft enough to make you shiver and clench around him.

“S’just me,” he assures into your ear, voice like velvet.

Joel had seen you grow into the person you are today. Not only that, but he had done so without treating you like your maturity and intelligence stagnated at some point in the past when you were merely the younger girl next door.

“Just you,” you whimper in confirmation.

“Feel so good, you know that?” He gently thumbs over one of your pebbled nipples.

You arch, face hot. “Think so.”

He chuckles.

When you meet his eyes and see how dark and gone they are, you can’t help but laugh too, breathless. Joel places a steady hand on your hip to ground himself as you clench.

He exhales as his forehead touches yours. “Gonna make me come with all that giggling,” he whispers against your lips, then nuzzles your cheek. “Already teased me to goddamn pieces.”

“Maybe I want you to come.” Boldness settles beneath your skin as the pleasant knot in your stomach grows tighter. “You’re so big… can feel you everywhere.”

You miss the mark for Joel’s mouth and land a clumsy kiss on his chin. You lower a shaky hand from his shoulders and allow your middle finger to find your swollen bud. The firm, slippery circles make warmth pool between your thighs.

“Gonna try something, alright?” he coos in his low timbre. All you can do is nod earnestly.

One by one, Joel guides your legs over his shoulders so your calves frame his neck. You gasp as he sinks even deeper than before.

“That the spot, sweetheart?”

Soon, you can’t hold out any longer.

The rope snaps, and your walls flutter around him in unrhythmic pulses as your lips part. The rest of the world disappears, only to crash back in at Joel’s final pointed thrust. A guttural sound escapes him as he lets go. You watch the way his eyebrows furrow and his arms flex. The way his stomach clenches with each wave that rips through him.

It feels like you’re floating somewhere where real-life struggles and confusions can’t reach you. Here, everything makes sense. Everything is good down to the bone. And the best part is, you’re not alone; you’re drifting through this perfect place with Joel.

As September winds closer to its end, it wouldn't be the last time.

•••

One of Joel’s hands rests on Sarah’s shoulder while the other holds his phone to his ear. He can barely make out Tommy’s next sentence as a military plane flies overhead in the evening sky. The driveway shakes to the sound of the engine and the sirens wailing in the distance. Joel lets go of her in favor of plugging his opposite ear.

“You should’ve called me, Tommy... now you’ve got her out there in this crap… I didn’t say you weren’t capable of protecting her… Yeah, I know where it is. We’re on our way.”

As Joel hangs up, all he can think is, so much for a happy birthday—Tommy got arrested, you bailed him out, and it’s the beginning of the end.

He redirects his attention to Sarah. “It’s gonna be okay, bug. Gonna meet ‘em at the old commuter lot just before you get downtown.”

She nods even though her heart is beating in her ears.

“There are a lot of scared people out there right now. Might see some things. Gonna need to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, voice wavering. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

“Lightning fast.”

She jogs back into the house. Joel climbs into his truck, keeping a hopeful eye out for your dad. He doesn’t get the chance to call him again because his Mustang screeches to a stop in front of the driveway.

Cal sees red as he walks towards Joel’s door, dressed in his work suit and Oxfords.

“My daughter, man? Fucking Grace?”

That’s what he wanted to name you. The joke became that raising you took a lot of grace on his part, especially after your mom walked out of your lives. Joel knew the story.

“Get the hell out of this goddamn truck and talk to me like a man.”

Cal flings the door open, and Joel’s face is hot with embarrassment, guilt, and frustration. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry right now, Cal,” he asserts as he slides out. “Something’s going on.”

“I’m sitting in traffic, when ding—a lovey ass text makes me double take. Then I get a, ‘Sorry, wrong person’ like it’s no big fucking deal.” Cal shakes his head. “You. It was meant for you.”

“Cal, listen—”

“I trusted you all these years. Let you into my home.”

He shoves Joel. Hard. Joel takes it.

“You sick fuck.”

Joel’s shoulders sink as he holds his hands up. “Cal, please…” He racks his brain for a quick explanation, but nothing comes.

That’s when the door to the Adlers' house swings open, and Mrs. Adler comes staggering out. Her gait is strikingly abnormal, oddly stable but in a jerky, disoriented way. Her head twitches as she catalogs the sounds around her, face more gaunt than Joel has ever seen it.

“The hell are you looking at?” Cal barks, pinning Joel to the truck.

At the outburst, Mrs. Adler starts towards them in a clumsy shuffle.

“Bigger fucking fish, Cal,” Joel grouses. “Turn your thick skull around.” Joel finally manages to shove him off, and he stumbles with enough force to fall.

Mrs. Adler speeds up at the prospect of an easy target, but before she can lunge for Cal, Joel grabs a brick from the stack near the garage and hurls it at her head. The impact disorients her enough for Cal to scramble to his feet with a string of expletives. Joel grabs the sledgehammer from the bed of his truck and delivers a fatal blow to the woman’s head.

“Is that Mrs. Adler?” Cal says in horror. “Is the rest of the family okay? Shit, we gotta check.”

“It ain’t worth it, Cal—”

But Cal doesn’t listen. He marches straight into the house.

Further down the street, a fire hydrant shoots water like a geyser as a car crashes into it. Joel reluctantly trails after him until he hears Cal’s pained screams erupt from the inside. A sound loud enough to make his blood run cold.

Sarah hurries back out of the house carrying a photo album she didn’t have before. She stops at the sight of Mrs. Adler’s crumbled frame. Cal’s Mustang registers, then the screams.

“Get in the truck, Sarah,” Joel urges. “Right now, bug, get in the truck.”

The tone of his voice spurs her into action. Joel slides behind the wheel with ringing ears. His hands shake as he starts the engine and banks to the right to avoid Cal’s Mustang as he drives off the bump of the curb.

“Were those Cal’s screams?” Sarah asks, frozen in the passenger seat. Joel remains quiet, eyes glued to the road. “Why aren’t you answering me? Dad?”

Joel’s phone rings, displaying your name. His hands still haven’t stopped trembling as he raises the device to his ear.

“Joel? Hey,” you say, light but focused. “Tommy and I are almost at the commuter lot.” Joel hums in acknowledgement, scared his voice will betray him. “My dad says he’s swinging by the house first, but knows to meet us there.”

“Sarah and I are en route.”

He can feel his daughter’s gaze boring into him when he hangs up.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“That’s not the kind of conversation you have over the phone,” Joel justifies, his voice thick but measured. “‘Specially at a time like this.”

Sarah swipes the tear that slips down her cheek.

Cal’s life isn’t the only one lost that day.

Joel and Sarah never reach the commuter lot, but you and Tommy do.

From then on, the world is never the same.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

Maroon, gold, indigo. Pale streaks of colored light span in thin bands over the empty pews of the chapel as the sun shines through the mosaic windows. On the stage, a short way behind the pulpit, stands an empty wooden cross.

Your gaze remains on your arms, where they rest crossed over your stomach. The few tears that once streamed down your cheeks have dried in stiff trails. You hadn’t bothered swiping them away.

You hadn’t prayed either.

Coming here usually meant something akin to that: sitting in silence with your eyes closed as the room’s serenity washed over your unspoken words. You weren’t expecting any kind of miracle. Waking up in Jackson, Wyoming every day already was one.

A long, quiet squeak rises from behind you, followed by the rattle of a closing door. You don’t look over your shoulder as footsteps pad in, but you grow intrigued when they freeze. Upon turning around, a young girl with a ponytail stands at the back of the sanctuary, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, mindful of her volume. “I didn’t think anybody was in here.”

You shake your head and face forward again. Her footsteps retreat, then she changes her mind. You listen to the swish of her pants as she grows closer and closer. Soon, the pew creaks as she sits beside you. It’s quiet for a while.

“Does he listen?” she murmurs, eyes on the cross. Her voice carries a hopeful hint of wonder beneath the quiet default of disbelief.

“I like to think so.”

She relaxes back into the seat, puffy coat rustling.

“I’m Ellie.”

•••

Spring nears before long.

A cheerful bark of laughter emits from your right, while Tommy’s gaze bores into you from the left. You can sense him even as you stare into what’s left of your blackberry moonshine.

In contrast to how you feel, the Tipsy Bison is alive with an early evening crowd. The bartender bounces around to those seated alongside you, fulfilling refills and carting away empty glasses. You don’t look at Tommy until he knocks his knee against yours. His eyes look painfully like Joel’s under the dim glow of the string lights.

“Can’t run from him forever,” he says.

You rest your elbow on the counter and pinch the bridge of your nose because you know he’s right.

When Joel arrived with Ellie a few months ago, the three of you sat in Tommy’s living room to catch up. An hour that went on to become the most harrowing of your lives.

It’s where you learned that you had two more stones to add to the cairn of remembrance in your mind; one for your father, another for Sarah.

You built walls around yourself after Outbreak Day. Not letting anything or anyone become significant enough to settle beneath your skin. Never again would you relive the feeling of leaving everything you loved behind: the city, your friends, your father.

Joel.

He was the source of so much to you when you needed it the most. Wisdom, comfort, affection, and validation wrapped in a package with the kindest eyes.

Those last few weeks of summer with him constitute the last of your old-world memories. You were bitter that you couldn’t press rewind. Bitter that Joel had been taken from you—that he’d broken his promise that everything would be alright.

In the haze of your naivety, you had built him up in your mind as ever-dependable. When the world laughed at your appointment, dethroning that idea of him felt like destroying a part of yourself.

That evening at Tommy’s, Joel met your gaze and uttered a hoarse apology for everything he never said.

Outbreak day had been an impossible situation that forced everyone to make impossible decisions. Except you refused to believe he’d made the right ones.

If he were a religion, your words were a renunciation of the faith:

“Damn your sorrys,” you said. “Do you know how many years I’ve spent holding out hope that my dad was still alive?” Joel tucked his head down. “Hell, that you and Sarah were still alive, Joel.”

“Was gonna tell you at the lot.” His voice was a murmur of pain and regret.

“But you never made it to the lot, did you?” Both brothers stilled at that. “And I’ve been walking around for years with a hope I now know was false.

“At least you had closure for your losses. At least they were real to you, and not some perpetual fucking maybe weighing you down every day of your life.” Tears had begun to stream down your cheeks.

Joel hadn’t flinched at a single word. He sat there like a stone, eyes broken. Tommy had to encourage you outside for some fresh air.

“He’s hurting too,” the younger Miller eventually said as he stood on the porch with you.

The Tipsy Bison fades back in around you as Tommy speaks up again.

“You know that knot in your chest you walk around with every day?” he questions. Your jaw ticks. “It ain’t gonna go away till you learn how to forgive.”

Aside from the revelation of Joel having known about your father’s death, the knowledge of Sarah’s death was another part of that night at Tommy’s that haunts you.

They never made it to the commuter lot because she had ended up dying in her his arms. By the time Joel did arrive, late and alone, all cellular networks had stopped functioning. Clouds of smoke rose from various fires. Chaos reigned as king.

By then, Tommy had already made the executive decision to leave without them, assuming the worst.

•••

The night of the spring fling, Joel stays in. He’d brought a tray from his workroom into the living room to whittle the finishing touches of the small horse figure he’d started a few days ago. He looks up when three knocks sound at the door.

The one person he’s not expecting to see is you.

“Hi,” you murmur.

His eyes are simultaneously unreadable and full of emotion behind his glasses.

“Hey.”

“Is it okay if we talk?”

Joel opens the door wider, and you take it as permission to step inside. Though his arm twitches, he doesn’t help you out of your jean jacket when you begin to shrug it off. But he does hang it on the rack for you.

“I was just sittin’ right in here…” he trails off and reclaims his spot on the couch. You follow, but opt for the accent chair.

Joel doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed—if that’s the right word to assign to the feeling. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of himself as he sits in his pajamas, with likely disheveled hair. It’s so quiet he can hear the refrigerator’s hum from the kitchen, the sound your clothes make as you shift.

You don’t know how to talk to him anymore. It’d once been so easy. A bit thrilling, even. He’d always listen and react in that distinct way of his, always ready to dish out a quip or a sarcastic remark when you got too big for your britches.

He’s not that man anymore. More of his hair has gone silver, and his face has aged slightly. His gaze carries a new intensity, like he’s alert and aware of everything.

“Is that a horse?”

It takes Joel a few seconds to realize you’re talking to him. He hums in confirmation.

“Nice,” you say honestly.

You hate yourself for dancing around the elephant in the room. But Joel’s right there with you, both of you clinging onto the same lifesaver in the middle of the sea.

“You can have it.” He shifts like he’s about to hand it to you, but you walk over to join him on the couch instead.

“How long did it take?”

“‘Bout six hours.”

As he turns it over in his hands and points out specific details, tears well in your eyes at the thoughtful cadence of his voice, the occasional way he pushes his glasses up his nose with an index finger.

By the time he stops talking and sets the horse on the coffee table in front of you, you’re crying. Joel noticed your tell-tale sniffles long before, but there’s a sympathetic flutter in his ribs as you actually begin to wipe your tears.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you murmur, voice cracking.

The weak question breaks through Joel’s internal debate to leave your side to get you a tissue.

You’d been avoiding him, but he wasn’t avoiding you. Not exactly.

Ellie doesn’t know all the details about you and Joel’s past, but you’ve crossed paths consistently since meeting her at the chapel. Almost every time you were together for a game night, movie night, or crafts at the community center, she mentioned that Joel either asked about you or said hello. Every time, it broke your heart even more.

What brought you to his door tonight is a quiet act of service that made it impossible to stay away. Word had gotten around about the broken fence gate in the front of your house. Joel took it upon himself to fix it while you were working a shift at the stables. On his off day, in the cold, no less.

You’d been treating him like he was invisible for months.

“I care about you,” he finally says, swallowing.

“I’ve been horrible to you.”

Joel doesn’t agree or disagree, just lifts a weak shoulder as if to acknowledge that things have simply been the way they’ve been.

Your entire face burns with shame. “I don’t know how to say sorry, but that’s all I’ve been.”

Your mind spins as you attempt to find a more eloquent way to express that, but a deep stillness overtakes you as Joel pulls you into his embrace.

It’s not neat or composed. You sink into him, face tucked into his chest, mere inches away from where his heart beats behind his ribs. Damp splotches of tears darken his gray shirt. You’ve missed his scent, the safety of his arms.

Maybe you’d stayed away because you couldn’t bear to lose it all again.

Time escapes both of you, and you let it.

You finally straighten up, and Joel brings a gentle hand to your face to wipe the remnants of your tears. The urge to lean into his warm, calloused palm overcomes you. Your eyes are heavy as you turn your head to pucker your lips against it in a featherlight kiss.

Then you take his hand in both of yours, pressing more kisses to his fingers and turning his hand over to pay his scarred knuckles the same mind. Joel’s entire arm tingles from the attention. You scoot yourself even closer to his side.

He leans back into the cushions, Adam’s apple bobbing, heavy eyes watching you. It’s almost like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Your touch disappears right after his eyes flutter closed.

You study his brow bone, his nose, the relaxed pout of his mouth.

Joel opens his eyes, accepting that this moment of affection may’ve reached its end. But he’s grateful it happened at all. He hadn’t been touched so tenderly since five years ago in Austin with you.

The two of you hold each other's gaze as a deafening silence stretches between you. A dog barks somewhere in the distance.

The couch dips as you carefully move to straddle him. His weathered hands tentatively grip your waist as you settle on his lap. You’re beautiful in the lamplight. Beautiful all the time. History knows he’s terrible at denying you.

Joel straightens from his reclined position and speaks what you both desperately want to say.

“I’ve missed you.”

It was a dangerous thing to want something in this world. To crave, to long. But tonight you do because you have each other to satiate the thrum.

You carefully pull his glasses off his face and set them aside. He blinks to reacclimate his eyes.

“Can you still see me?” you murmur.

“I see you, babygirl.”

You lean in to kiss his nose, then his lips.

Your joint breaths are uneven when you pull away from the kiss that nearly took them away. You stay close, nose to nose, quietly alive with the proximity.

Your tongue pokes out to gently trace his lower lip as if it’s enough to truly get another taste. You move to kiss the corner of his mouth, then trail an eager line of kisses to his jaw. His fingers dig into your waist when you lower your head to mouth beneath his ear.

As soon as he shivers, a small sound catching in his throat, you draw back. Not just away from his neck, but you ease yourself all the way down to the rug, where you spread his legs and kneel between them. You palm his bulge through his pajama pants one gentle time before your fingers curl into the waistband.

“You don’t gotta—”

“Please? I want to.”

After shucking his pants and boxers to the floor, you waste no time kissing up his fuzzy inner thighs. You don’t stop when you reach his arousal, gripping him at the base to kiss up the veined underside until reaching the flushed mushroom head. Joel’s legs quiver and fall open wider when you take him into your mouth.

There’s no teasing, no delay. You look up at Joel through your lashes, where the almost pained scrunch of his eyebrows tells you you’re making it good for him.

So much so, tension coils low in his gut, and his sac draws up in warning. He encourages you back up to his lap with a hand to your cheek.

Upon standing, you step out of your jeans and panties while holding his heavy-lidded gaze. When you settle back onto his thighs, you pull your shirt over your head, and he gently cups one of your breasts. Your soft hum prompts him to dip his head to kiss your nipple gingerly, then suckle it into his mouth. He’s painfully reverent and gentle.

As he lifts his head to switch to the other, you duck in to kiss him, nice and slow. When your fingertips find the hem of his shirt, he gently grasps your wrists. A thin string of saliva slinks between your mouths as you pull away.

“Everything okay?” you breathe, gaze searching.

“S’just... I got some scars.” He’s unsure if he says it so you’re not caught off guard, or because a small, self-conscious part of him has arisen.

You bring a hand to his cheek and brush your thumb over his scruff. “That’s okay.”

“Alright.”

Once he’s bare, your fingers map over the healed cuts and small divots scattered across the skin of his torso, each with its own story. It’s not as bad as you expected, just enough to give him a more rugged edge. He’s hairier now, across his chest and leading down from his navel to the wiry curls at his base.

You reach between your bodies and give Joel a few easy strokes before rising onto your knees and guiding him to your entrance. You run his thick head through your folds to collect the pooled wetness. Joel reaches down to make sure you’re ready for him and twitches in your grasp when his fingers easily slip around.

You’re so slick, gentle pressure alone is enough to breach your entrance. You shudder when he circles your clit in a few focused passes before settling his hands back on your waist.

Joel’s hold remains steady as you ease down onto him. He watches himself disappear in your warmth. When you’re filled all the way, you sigh at the overwhelming stretch.

Your hips circle a few practiced times as you get acclimated to welcoming him, anyone, after so long. As the delicious dull ache makes way for pleasure, you raise back up and sink back down. Joel's hands knead your backside and smooth up to your shoulder blades as you set a pace.

He sits there and relishes what you give him, occasionally shifting or raising his hips to complement you.

“Not gonna last,” he breathes against your lips. “You feel too good. Been so long.”

“Me neither,” you exhale, reaching down to rub circles over yourself.

Under your body and the intoxicating roll of your hips, it isn’t long before Joel feels a strong, hot tug low in his gut.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, gripping your hips to slow them. “M’close, lift up.”

“It’s okay.”

You brush a kiss along his cheek and circle one of his nipples with the pad of your finger. Panic licks within him even as he helplessly shudders.

“Mmmh—sweetheart.”

“I promise it’s okay,” you whisper. “I know my body. Always track my cycle.”

“You sure?” Joel’s brows pinch when you clench involuntarily.

“Positive.” You move his hands to rest further up your waist, then grip his shoulders as you fall back into a rhythm.

Pleasure swells between you so intensely that there is no more holding back.

Joel’s warm, muscular thighs tremble, then flex beneath you as he cants his hips upwards and allows throaty sound to escape him. His stomach tightens as he empties himself into you with an awed utterance of your name.

The way he pulses inside of you makes you let go, walls fluttering around him as pleasure radiates from your core down into the apex of your thighs. You rest your dewy forehead against his as you ride out the aftershocks that render you spent.

The sense of fondness and relief that washes over you is so great that you have to run your hands down Joel’s broad chest to make sure he’s real. His palm splays in the center of your back, keeping you near.

He’s got you now.

And you could begin again.

•••

Behind the chapel, Joel sits on a wooden bench alone. A breeze blows through as he gazes at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. It’s quiet for an afternoon in Jackson, but he has no complaints. Some days were like that, slow-moving all around, as if a spell of stillness had chosen to settle.

As he waits, he turns over a tan rock in his hand, the edges so smooth it almost looks fake.

With the weather warming, he could get away without a jacket today. The forest green flannel he wears complements his dark wash jeans. He’d also combed his hair back with a natural gel.

Before he left the house, Ellie had eyed him knowingly.

"Who's the lucky lady?" she teased.

"Take a wild guess," he said. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Joel doesn’t look over his shoulder when grass crunches beneath the footsteps behind him. A smile tugs at his lips when they pause, then grow slower and lighter.

The world goes dark as two soft hands cover his eyes from behind, smelling faintly of lemon balm. You lower your lips to his ear as if you’re about to say something, but end up laughing, light and flustered. Joel can’t help but chuckle.

A feigned sigh of frustration leaves you as you give up, rounding the bench to sit beside him instead. Joel looks over at you, soft crinkles beside his sparkling eyes.

“It’s not funny,” you say lightly. “I was gonna try to pull the whole ‘guess who’ thing, but then I panicked and realized it’d be extremely obvious.”

“Woulda played along,” Joel says easily.

You know he would’ve. Levity was seeping in between the cracks more and more every day. It was nice to give in to a sense of play again.

“You’re early,” you say, letting your knee touch his. “It’s not even noon.”

He reads the face of his watch. “So are you.”

Your eyes drift to the rock he’s holding. “You found such a pretty one.”

Upon pulling yours from your tote bag, it’s smaller with more rigid edges. But it’s a nice rock, nonetheless.

“Ready?”

“Your turn to pick the spot,” you say.

He’s had enough time to think about it. You follow him a few yards into the overgrown grass. Grunting softly, he leans down to place his rock on top of the lone tree stump standing there. You balance your smaller one on top of his. For Sarah, for Cal. Stepping back a couple of paces makes them seem so small.

A moment of silence arises. You reach for his hand, a small gesture led by your pinkie. He takes your hand like every other fourth Thursday of the month at various locations around the commune.

The previous month’s cairns seldom remain standing where you leave them, but you never mind. It’s no more about permanence than it is about showing up. Remembering. Setting aside time for one another’s shared grief.

“Not gonna lie,” you start softly.

Joel looks over at you, ready to listen.

“The lunch menu’s not too shabby today.”

An amused puff of air leaves his nose. “S’that right?”

As you return to the bench to sit together a while longer, the wind blows, a refreshing whisper reminding you that you’re still here.

Thanks so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!

JOEL MASTERLIST

ALL MASTERLISTS

#joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us season 2 #pedro pascal

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sugarlywhispers · 8 months ago

Text

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight, arranged marriage au.

a.n; fare warning, THIS IS A MONSTER<3 lol

Fuckin' Marry Me Series | First Part | Second Part |

The gentle sound of the scribble your pen makes over the paper, right where it requires your formal signature, is heard louder than you expected in that tense silence. Well, it isn't a bad silence, but more like an anxious one. One that has Bakugou, who is sitting right next to you, literally shaking his right leg up and down continuously, even though you already told him you would do this.

And what does ‘this’ mean? It means you agreed to marry Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki. To help him finally be free from his own mother's clutches.

You had a hard time believing in the whole story he told you when he knocked on your door last Sunday morning –almost tearing down the door actually– after his father died. Even though you had agreed that same day, you asked him for a few days to clear your head a bit. He accepted, respecting your space even at work, which was weird.

A normal day at work always starts with a banter with this same man right at the entrance of the company and it follows until you enter the elevator. Everyone is already used to it, so they ignore both of you. It mostly ends when you have to get off on the floor where your office is, which is one under the one where all heroes keep their hero costumes and get changed. Of course, sometimes the banter would continue if you were assigned to work with Hero Dynamight through the earbuds that connected you at a distance.

That Monday morning though, was different. Weird for everyone who looked at both of you in shock. The moment you stood in front of the other right outside the company, everyone was waiting for it to happen, yet found themselves opening their eyes wide in surprise as you and Bakugou simply bowed slightly in hello and walked towards the building in complete silence. It followed inside the elevator, where he willingly stood next to you –you always stood on each side of it to avoid even accidentally touching. Nobody could believe their eyes. Especially when it was your moment to walk out on your floor and he said, “See ya’ around”, and you turned your head towards him and slightly smiled, murmuring a timidly, “You too. Take care outside.”

That day you weren't assigned to work with him, nor the two days after –in which these same actions and words were repeated by both of you every morning– yet you could feel the whispers and gossip around about this neutral ground between you two. Your boss even called you to his office to ask if everything was okay.

You internally laughed at the situation. It was so normal for you to fight with Bakugou that everyone found it weird and worrisome if you didn't. It was actually hilarious.

Wednesday shift had you entering the office at 5 p.m. and would have you leaving at almost 3 a.m. –if the hero assigned to you didn't get caught in a villain fight around that time. So when you were about to take the elevator and its door opened, you almost bumped into a freshly showered and already leaving Bakugou Katsuki.

“Oh, hey…”

“Hey,” he answered back. Both of you took a step out of the elevator, standing right in front of each other. One of his hands flew to the back of his head, scratching it and making small droplets of his still wet hair fall as he spoke, “I was, ummm, gonna talk to you today… but, umm, your shift…”

“Oh yeah, it's night shift today,” you nodded, hands holding the strap of your bag, trying to look casual and not let the nerves be shown. “Yours finished?”

“Yeah, tomorrow's night shift for me.”

“I know, I'm with you tomorrow,” you smiled.

His eyebrows pulled up, nodding in acceptance, “Cool.”

Yours frown, tilting your head a bit to the side, “Is it? Since when?” Now that you think about it, all that neutral ground between you two was very weird. New, but weird.

He rolled his eyes, hands hiding inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Since I'm trynna marry y–”

“Shhhh! Shut it, not here!” He smirked arrogantly. Ah, there's the comeback of the old annoying Bakugou.

“I–...”

“KATSUKI!”

A screeching yell made the hairs of your arms stand in alert, completely unexpected for you. Yet for the man in front of you was a sound he was very familiar with. He grunted, his mood completely changing into anger as he turned around towards the yell.

“The fuck are you doing here, old hag?”

Oh. His mother.

You have seen her at a distance before, never actually got to meet her personally or even hear her voice –you were glad about that last particular fact though, she sounded awful.

You didn't miss to recognize the position Bakugou had you at the moment when he turned around and covered your small form behind his massive body from his mother to even acknowledge your presence there. You're grateful for his surprising and kind of sensitive tact. He's giving you an out from that, what you know for sure was going to be, a quite tense moment.

“I fucking told you, you need to hurry! I’m not fucking waiting for you any longer!” She yelled again, not caring at all about the place she was nor the people around in the lobby.

Bakugou looked to the side, taking a very deep breath before pinching his nose. His hand then hung loosely on the side of his body, but he kept opening and closing his hand in a fist. Oh wow, he was really holding himself back.

You didn't know what possessed you to do what you did or why, but you acted before thinking.

Your hand flew towards his, holding his trembling fist tightly. You knew it took him by surprise, but he hid it well by standing straighter, body still hiding you behind him. You knew for a fact that his face didn’t show any emotion other than anger, so nothing was amiss. His arm flexed behind him, bringing yours with his, as his hand opened and held yours tightly back.

This had been the very first time you willingly touched him. The first time you actually ever touched him at all. And your eyes couldn't leave the sight of his big hand fully surrounding yours, making you feel smaller than ever. I mean, you had eyes, he was a freaking hulk next to you. But the warm feeling of it enclosing yours securely made you feel safe, protected. It also felt calloused, a hand that was used every day to bring down bad guys and protect a whole nation, if not the world. Yet the warmth in it made your whole body tingle.

Fuck. What was this?

“I fuckin’ told you not to come in the first place,” he didn't need to yell, his voice sounded loud and clear even at the distance.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!”

You tightened your hold on his hand, just to ground him in support. He sighed, returning the gesture to thank you before saying in his mother's direction, “I'm fuckin’ going, you pain in the ass”, and walked towards her, letting go of your hand.

His mother simply turned and walked in front of him outside of the building. She never realized you had been there the whole time.

The moment had been so stressful, and if that was what Bakugou had to deal with every day since he was born, damn. You actually felt sorry for him.

Thanks to the glass walls of the lobby you could watch the Bakugous walk towards the expensive car waiting for them outside. They were clearly shit-talking to each other the whole way, until before they got inside the car, his mother actually slapped the back of his head strongly. Twice.

A rising rage traveled up your body, hands closing in fists. What the fuck?! Who the fuck did she think she was? Why the hell did she need to fucking hit him like that, twice? Why the hell did she do it at all? Fuck, you were starting to believe in everything Bakugou told you about her.

“You get it now, don't you?” Izuku's voice from behind you made you jump a bit in surprise.

You cleared your throat, looking elsewhere and breathing deeply, trying to clear your head.

“I don't–”

Izuku's hand raised, making you go silent. “Before you come up with a clever excuse, let me remind you that Kacchan and I have been friends since diapers… and we talk to each other.”

His eyeing made you gulp, but his words were clear enough, “You know then.”

He nodded, hand detaining the elevator’s doors so you both could enter, him after you. “He came to my apartment right after and told me all that happened. I was at the funeral too.”

He didn't need to explain anymore, it was more than clear he was talking about last Sunday when Bakugou asked you to marry him. You knew his father had died sometime Saturday afternoon and that the funeral was held that same night. Bakugou had come to your apartment right after his father had been cremated.

“I know you two fight like cats and dogs all the time, but he's not that bad once you give him a chance. And by what you just saw, I know you understand now why he's always on the defensive.”

You sigh. Damn it, you do. Growing up in an environment like that made you think it was actually a miracle Bakugou turned out the way he did.

“I also know that you agreed to marry him to help him be finally free from his mother,” he confirmed out loud once the doors of the elevator closed and it was just the two of you in there.

“Any advice?”

He chuckled, turning his whole body and looking directly at you, “Be open-minded. Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything.”

You rolled your eyes. Ugh, you were feeling the stress already.

The elevator signaled that you had arrived at your floor, so you sighed, nodding in his way as an answer and walking outside. But before the doors closed, Izuku held them for a bit longer to talk again.

“Also… Be smarter.”

“Than him?” You asked confused.

“Than her.”

And with that, he let the doors close, a smile plastered on his face that told on all the mischief his eyes shined with.

This little… cheeky bastard.

The audacity.

You made a mental note to punch Izuku the next time you bumped into him. On purpose.

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn't get that image of Bakugou being abused by his own mother out of your head. Because yes, it was fucking abuse. And in fucking public! How many times had this happened already? And why the fuck no one had ever said or done anything against it? Even when he was a kid?!

It was outrageous.

And the fact that Bakugou held himself back, because you knew he did, not only because she was his mother but also because she was a woman –and you could bet she fucking used that at her advantage– only spoke about the kind of man he was.

Bakugou Katsuki is a good man.

You took your cell phone out and searched for his contact number, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

You: Make the appointment for this Friday.

His reply didn't take long.

Bakugou K.: Done.

You took a deep breath. The decision was made. And you were not going to back out from it. Or so you hoped.

Another notification made your phone ring and it was another text message.

Bakugou K.: Thank you.

The beginning of a smile threatened to break out from your mouth as you re-read that message several times. Until the loud pip-ing that alerted a villain attack completely distracted you, or more like, brought you back to reality.

The rest of the days went faster than you expected.

The shift on Wednesday ended on time, miraculously. So at exactly 3 a.m. you were turning off your computer and putting your stuff back in your bag. You had several notifications on your phone but didn't feel like giving them your attention at that moment, choosing to concentrate on clearing your space and going back home. You let out several yawns when you got inside the elevator, holding yourself on the handrail, sleep having you on the verge of passing out tired of the stressful days. For some reason, villains chose that week to be more active than usual, which demanded more of your focus and being in constant alert mode.

When the doors finally opened on the lobby floor, you walked towards the check-in clock to mark the end of your shift. You bowed goodbye to the receptionist and walked towards the entrance of the company. For a moment, you entertained your mind with the idea of taking a taxi to get home faster. But damn it, that was expensive, and you were not going to waste money like that. And even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

You sighed, covering your neck as best as you could with your coat once you crossed the doors, and began your walk in the direction you needed to go. It was a very chilly night, but because it was Spring, you didn't expect such cold weather.

You were thinking about how you'd have to resist this coldness until you got home when you looked up and recognized Bakugou's obviously expensive car and him resting against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn't check your messages, short-legs?”

You denied, head shaking, “I finished the shift and packed everything. Wanted to leave as soon as possible…”

He snorted, shaking his head, “Get in. I'll take you home.”

“Oh, it's okay. I can walk…”

He frowned, “The fuck you think I would be here for then? Get in the car, dumbass.”

“Geez. Okay! No need to get grumpy, asshole.”

You rounded his car towards the passenger seat and climbed in. He followed and got on the driver's side.

The inside was warm, as the heater had been on. You smiled gladly, rubbing your freezing-cold hands to warm them up faster.

“Can't believe you were planning to walk home. Are you stupid?”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but Izuku's words invaded your mind.

“…Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything…”

You thought for a moment, and it was actually easier than you thought to figure it out. Bakugou wasn't actually trying to insult you. He was worried that you would walk home that early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, in that weather.

Oh. That changed the perspective entirely.

“Yeah, actually,” you chuckled, hands still rubbing to heat them up. “I can't afford a taxi, and the subway isn't open yet.”

He turned on the car, but his attention was on you, “What you mean you can't afford a stupid taxi? Isn't your pay–…”

You denied, body relaxing a bit over the seat thanks to the warmth as he drove smoothly. You liked warm things. Spring was your favorite season because of it.

“Contrary to common belief, Quirk & Training Specialists don't gain much.”

“What?! Why? I mean… Most of the time is thanks to your area that we heroes are fuckin’ alive.”

“Awww. Thank you for admitting it! Now, would you admit that publicly?”

“Of fuckin’ course I would!”

You smiled, “Well, you would be the first one. Tell me, do you think other heroes would willingly admit that their wins sometimes belong to a ghost that tells them what to do or where to go through their earbuds?”

Your words made him close his mouth. Aha. Touché.

You chuckled, “It's okay, Bakugou. It's my job.”

“Now that I think about it, your name is nowhere to be seen in my reports. It's not even fuckin’ mentioned as a sidekick or something.”

“That's because I'm not a sidekick. I'm just a quirkless person who is observant enough to point you the best way to go. I'm not that important…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher what he meant. He didn't mean to insult you, what he was trying to say is, “don't say that about yourself”.

Wow. Izuku was so right about that advice. You made a mental note to thank him the next time you saw him. After punching him, of course.

The rest of the car ride was silent. But not uncomfortable. The gentle sound of the heater turned on was relaxing enough to even doze you a bit, warm and content.

Bakugou didn't speak until he parked right in front of your apartment building. You immediately noticed you had probably slept the rest of the way.

“I'm sorry, I think I fell asleep.”

“You think?” He chuckled, face looking your way. You snorted back, finding his teasing funny. His crooked smile made tingles run up your arms. Or was it the heater? Yes, that probably was it, the heater.

You cleared your throat and looked down at your seat belt and untied it –wait. You didn't remember putting it on. Did he… Did he put it on you when you fell asleep? Oh, my. You gulped, feeling the tingles run all over your body again. Fuck. You needed to leave that small space you shared with this man, like… now.

But before you did, you looked back at him one more time.

“Thank you… for driving me home,” you pulled a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. You were indeed grateful that you actually didn't have to freeze on your way home, so you bowed slightly too.

You were about to open the door when he spoke.

“Wait,” you turned back at him and watched curiously as he opened the compartment, taking out a small folder.

He pushed it in your direction and looked expectantly at you. You took it, a bit doubtful, not quite understanding what it meant.

“I said I would sign a contract if that's what you wanted. It's just a draft, but I put some items in there that I want you to check. You can add some yourself. And if we both agree, we can sign it.”

Oh. “Oh, okay… I'll check it out and let you know.”

He nodded in response and you finally got out of the car and ran through the shocking cold towards your building. Inside the elevator, you pressed the folder over your chest. This felt way more real than what you felt earlier when you made the final decision and texted him.

But something tasted a bit… bitter. Was this something you had to do on your own? Like, the marriage was between the both of you. And while it wasn’t one out of a loving relationship, it was still something that included both. This contract thing felt like something you needed to sit down and review together.

You decided then.

Your hand searched for your phone in your bag, and ignoring all the notifications, you directly made the call.

Not one ring later, he picked up the call.

“Are you o–...”

“Did you leave?” You interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“No, I'm still down here.”

“Umm, are you tired? Cause if you are we can definitely leave it for tomorrow, or better said later, but I slept through the car ride so I'm not that tired anymore, but if you think–”

“Cut the fuckin’ rambling. Go to the point, short-legs.”

You sighed, fingers sliding through your hair and pulling it back. “If you want, he can revise this now. I think it's better if we do it together.”

You heard the intake of a deep breath, a relieved one, before he said, “Yeah… Okay. I'm on my way up.” The sound of the car's door closing confirmed he was on his way.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated and then ended the call.

It took you both three hours and just one heated discussion to come to terms with each of the items. Both satisfied with the consensual agreements, you brought out your laptop and rewrote it. You printed two copies, one for each, that you both signed. That's how the contract was ready and done. Now the next and final step would be the marriage in front of a judge. That Friday. In one day.

“We need two witnesses,” you reminded him, to which he grunted.

“Right, I forgot about that.”

“Well, we already know who you are picking…”

He pulled up an eyebrow, looking in your direction, “Huh? And who am I picking, know-it-all?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “Izuku.”

He tched, not admitting it out loud, but it was obvious you were right.

You chose to let it be and not cause any banter, mostly because you definitely felt more tired than a few hours back.

“Smart-ass. Then who are you picking, mmh?”

You shrugged, “I don't know. I was thinking Mina,” his groan made you chuckle, “but I think Jirou would keep a low profile better.”

“Yeah, good thinking.” You nodded in agreement. You loved Mina, and you knew he did too, but she couldn't keep things down sometimes. And one of the items was to keep a low profile throughout the whole marriage thing. Bakugou hated the press and paparazzi, and you weren't a fan of them either. Even though you had never been the center of attention of them, you actually preferred to keep it that way. On the low and as invisible as possible.

Thursday went very quiet and chill, which was very surprising considering it was Dynamight's shift. Sometimes, villains made you think they had a particular masochistic side and loved appearing whenever Pro Hero Dynamight was around. Some of them even loved to provoke him on purpose so he would yell all those obscenities towards them. And they enjoyed it. Freaks.

But not that Thursday. It had been a very peaceful one. It even found you chatting with Bakugou through the earbuds.

“So what now, ya’ gonna fuckin’ tell me Endeavor is better than All Might?”

“Oh, shut up, you All Might-obsessed-freak! I will admit All Might was huge, but you can't deny Endeavor stood his ground and made big stuff too.”

“Like fuckin’ what?”

“The fight with the nomu–”

“HA! Please! That was child's play. All Might took down AFO.”

“Yeah. But it was Deku who won against him in the end, not him. And All Might only fought twice against AFO. Endeavor killed a powerful nomu.”

“You are so fuckin’ blind!”

“You are the blind one!”

“How could you say Endeavor is better than All Might?!”

“I did not say that!”

“Wait– then what did y–?”

“I just said, Endeavor was N° 1 too. He was a Hero too. He deserves a bit of recognition.”

You could hear Bakugou’s snort, “So you like them complicated and misunderstood…”

Bakugou’s malice in his teasing was palpable, yet you always had an answer for him.

“Well… What does that say about you?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed all your co-workers smiling at your cute banter with Bakugou. Yet you were so invested in it, you didn't notice.

Conversations that also led to getting to know each other a little bit more also happened.

“I like orange. You?”

The question took you by surprise after almost half an hour of silence from both ends. Yet, it didn't surprise you at all his preference in color. It was kind of obvious.

“Figures. It doesn't surprise me at all–”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Mine is purple.”

“Why?”

“Ummm, I don't know. I always pictured that if I had become a Hero, my costume would be purple. I decided that even before I knew if I had a Quirk or not.”

You had said it in a conversational tone, never intended to make him feel some type of way. Yet, he still asked, “And is still your favorite, even after–”

“–after I found out I am quirkless? Yes. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Mmmh,” was his simple answer.

The shift ended peacefully and on time, which both of you were grateful for, considering what the following day was.

When the shift was over, you waited a considerate couple of minutes. Minutes it would take the heroes to come back from their shift to the company. Then, you got inside the elevator but instead of going down, you went one floor up.

Your phone rang with a notification.

Bakugou K.: You asked her yet?

You rolled your eyes. So impatient.

You: No, I'm about to. I'm on your floor.

Bakugou K.: Slow ass.

You still wanted to punch him, sometimes.

You put your phone back inside your bag as you walked towards the girls’ wing of the floor, completely avoiding even looking at the boys' wing way. You knocked two times before Ochako opened the door slightly to look who it was.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Hi!”

“Hello, Y/N.”

“HI BABY!!”

All the girls present that shift greeted you cheerfully, especially Mina. You greeted back while entering the room and closing the door behind you.

You chatted with all of them here and there as they got changed, not an ounce of shyness between all of you. You were friends with almost all of them, having already worked with the majority of the girls and hung out with them many times. You knew almost all about them. Their sleep faces, their ugly cries, their drunk personalities. All of it. And they knew you too. That's why you didn't need to be subtle at all when you said, “I actually need to speak with Jirou for a moment”. Everyone understood and took it nicely as they hurried a bit their way into their clothes and grabbed their stuff before leaving you two alone.

All of them knew you and Jirou had a special friendship, a close one. She was the one you always went to when you really needed to confide in someone with something deep within you. The same thing was for Jirou. You were actually the first one of all to know when Denki confessed his feelings to her, and even talked her through her own ‘secret’ feelings for him.

“What's up, buddy?” She straddled one of the benches and sat, patting the place in front of her for you to follow.

You sat in front of her crossing your legs under you, your bag actually forgotten on the floor down the bench.

“I'm going to tell you something, but I need you to keep an open mind and listen to it all before you say anything.”

She jerked her head back a bit, already feeling confused, “You're scaring me already.”

“You have no idea…” You sighed and began the tell-tale.

Her eyes kept opening wider and wider with each thing you told her about what had been happening with you and Bakugou these last days.

What it felt like probably an hour later, you finished with, “So, that's why… we are going to get married tomorrow.”

Jirou fastly stood up, almost jumping a few steps back, and pointed a finger at you.

“That's it! That's why you have been so civil to each other! I knew something was up with– WAIT,” oh yeah, you thought she hadn't quite listened to what you just said. But then it came, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Y/N!! YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING.”

You shook your head, “No, I'm not.” The calmness and firm tone in which you answered made her sidetrack tons in her own reaction, as she sat back down in front of you and took your hands in hers.

“Honey, it isn't your obligation to do any of this. You know that, right?”

You smiled, the clear worry in Jirou's eyes warming your little heart. You had such a good friend.

“I do. But I want to do this. For him.” You were sincere, and you knew Jirou could see it in your eyes too.

“Even though you don’t like each other??”

“Even though we don’t like each other.”

You repeated, but your tone was decisive. Jirou looked at you silently for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

“Okay… Whatever you choose, I'm here for and with you.” Your arms immediately surrounded her neck in a hug. She returned it gladly, patting your back in reassurance. “And if he hurts you, just tell me. I'll make him pay.”

You laughed amusingly. “I know you will. But this isn't the only thing I'm here for.”

She groaned, “There's more?! I don't know how much my heart can take...”

“Well, will it survive if I ask you to be my witness tomorrow?”

Jirou's eyes filled with tears before it was her turn to surround your neck in a tight hug.

“I'll take that as a yes,” you both giggled, hugging each other tight.

Twenty minutes later you were both leaving the building of the company and you walked her towards the motorcycle parking lot where she had hers.

“I'll text you the location in the morning.”

“Alright, I can't wait for it!” She said excitedly, but then, she looked more intently at you. “I just want to say, this thing you're doing is beyond heroic. You're literally being a Hero right now.”

Her words touched something inside you that made you want to cry like a baby. Something so deep it made you feel like floating away with the harsh galloping your heart made against your chest. It didn't make sense, yet it actually did.

You gulped looking down at your feet, strongly holding back the cry that threatened to be released right in your throat.

“You need a ride back home?” She asked, completely ignoring –for your sake and out of respect– your glassy eyes.

“I'll take her home,” Bakugou's voice in the distance surprised both of you, yet you had been expecting something like this to happen. Something told you he would be waiting you after his shift.

Jirou looked at you waiting for your approval, and when you nodded, she put on her helmet and turned on her bike. You walked towards where Bakugou was standing with Jirou riding next to you, and when she was next to him, she said, “You better take care of my friend, or I'll come for your ass, don't care you're my friend too.”

Bakugou snorted, “I know you will, Ears.” He smiled, pulling down her face shield to annoy her. She punched him friendly on the shoulder before waving and driving away.

“She said yes then.”

You both began walking towards what you thought he had parked his car. “Yep. What did Izuku say?”

He rolled his eyes, “You know he said yes.”

You smiled, “I know, I was just being friendly and asked.”

“Smart-ass.”

“I am really going to punch you again, don't tempt me.”

“Yeah… If that one punch could be considered a punch, it would be ‘again’.”

“Oh, so you do want me to…”

You tried to reach his shoulder, but this time he was fast enough to dodge it expertly. “You really are slow, huh?” He mocked walking backwards and smirking.

“You want slow, asshole…”

He laughed, turning around and running away as you ran towards him trying to catch him.

He was a stupidly fast idiot.

So now, it is Friday, and you sit right next to Bakugou Katsuki. Both of you are in front of a judge who is officially marrying you. Jirou sits on your left, while Izuku sits on Bakugou's right. And you have just finished writing your signature where the bride's one goes. Bakugou has already signed his. It isn't until you put the pen down on the table that Bakugou stops bouncing his leg and breathes in deep.

You want to laugh, finding his nerves quite funny. But you get it. This means more than just marriage to him.

It's freedom.

And you can't even imagine how nerve-racking that must feel for him. After all these years that he had to follow his mother's command and will just so he could follow his own dream, now he would be free.

That in itself brings you such a happy feeling for him.

If anyone would have ever told you that you would be doing this for none other than Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki, you would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Immediately.

Fate is a strange thing.

After the turn for the witnesses to sign, the judge says boringly, “By the authority vested in me by the government of Tokyo, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

He doesn't even wait nor expect the newlyweds to kiss or exchange rings as he closes the book and gives Bakugou the previous enrollment you both signed.

And that is it. You are officially married to Bakugou Katsuki.

“Who are you with on today's shift? What time are you out?”

His questions make you come back to reality after a quiet drive toward the company in his car, which you spend looking at the golden ring that now adorns your left hand. When you look up, the shining of the golden ring on his left hand catches your attention as he circles the steering wheel so the car turns on a corner, the company appearing in your view in the distance.

“Umm, I'm with Izuku. If everything goes well, at 3 a.m.”

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Bakugou, it’s okay, I can walk home,” you insist for the nth time.

“Bullshit–”

“–Besides, you have morning patrol tomorrow,” you continue, completely ignoring his dirty mouth, “You can’t interrupt your sleep like this every time I have this shift. You need to be awake for your job.”

He grunts, muttering something that you can’t quite decipher what he said. You roll your eyes, thinking he acts like a petulant child sometimes.

A moment later, Bakugou enters the parking lot with his car, to which you look confused at him. Why is he entering the company on his day off?

He answers even before you can articulate your words, “I need to pick up some unfinished reports I have to turn in tomorrow.”

You pull up an eyebrow, untying the seatbelt and getting out of his car once he finally parks, “Wow. Dynamight is lacking on his paperwork?”

“Shut up, short-legs.”

You snort at his lighthearted insult as you walk together inside the company. But right when you both cross the big doors, Bakugou stops and looks at you. You frown confused, he then motions down with his head and you see his hand open, waiting. Oh, right.

Item n°2: Act like we are in a real relationship. The lawyers for the companies always investigate deeper into each hero, so that their status and validation of mental sanity are correlated.

You put your hand over his, both closing on each other, its warmth making those damn tingles run up your arm. But neither of you says anything as you walk through the lobby of the company holding hands.

Everyone who looks opens their eyes wide, one of the receptionists even spills her coffee drink out of shock. You hold yourself from laughing. Another of the receptionists looks you up and down, a clear disgusted expression on her face. Ops. Well, it’s not like you liked her either.

However, both you and Bakugou walk with your heads held high. You know how shocking and out of character the image of you both holding hands like a couple looks. And fast, everything happened so fast. You can already hear the gossip about whatever this is that you might have with Bakugou is way too fast. But you haven’t done everything you did for them. It is for him. As surprising as that sounds, even for you.

He walks with you towards the clock where you have to mark your entrance, never dropping your hand as you do. Then, you walk together to the elevator waiting for it to arrive. As you wait and look down at your shoes, you feel before you actually see his other hand moving, fingers brushing against your ear when he tugs a strand of your hair that had been over your face. Surprised, you look up at him but still smile in thanks.

Bakugou retracts his hand quickly and puts it inside the pocket of his jacket, looking back at the elevator. You would tease him for the little blush his cheeks are showing, but you decide it’s not the moment, considering how all eyes are on you two.

When it arrives and you get in, standing very close to each other while watching how everyone tries to peep inside to see if you’re still holding hands or if anything else happens between you two, you both jolt a bit when a wild and hurried Izuku suddenly enters the elevator, jacket half off and hair disheveled. He also looks in surprise at you two, eyes traveling down at your connected hands. A shit-eating grin appears on his face as the doors of the elevator close.

“Shut up.”

Bakugou and you speak at the same time.

Izuku snorts, hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “Wasn’t going to say anything…”

“I sense a ‘but’...” You roll your eyes, and Bakugou hums in agreement.

The greenette smiles wider, “But I understand now why everyone was looking like they saw All Might in person.”

Bakugou insults him, just because he always wants to have the final say, making Izuku laugh out loud amused. You decide to ignore both of them until the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Don’t blow up the elevator,” you warn them both after Izuku answers back at Bakugou, just to spite him. Your hand gives Bakugou one last squeeze in goodbye before walking out, “I’m with you today, Izuku.”

“Oh, cool! I’ll get connected in a bit.” You nod in his direction and look at Bakugou one last time, smiling and waving.

The doors close and you don’t get to see him smile back at you.

The shift, as always with Pro Hero Deku, is not calm or chill. It’s hectic and dangerous, and it keeps demanding all your focus and senses on alert.

“You know, sometimes I believe you have a magnet for trouble stuck up in your ass…” you hear Izuku spill the drink he must have been probably about to swallow. You chuckle devilishly. Wow, two times in a day you make someone spill their drink, that must be a record.

“Damn. Not twenty-four hours of being married to him, and you are already influenced.”

“Oh, shut it,” you both laugh amicably.

Again, the pip-ing of alert sounds in your computer. You sigh, “Deku, another threat five streets down where you’re at now.”

“On my way!”

“See? A magnet in your ass…” Izuku laughs.

You both don’t get to chat about another thing that is not your job again for the rest of the shift.

At exactly 3:10 a.m. you let out a tired sigh, stretching your arms above you and moving your body from side to side as gentle cracks sound from your backbone. After Deku pushes a villain inside a police car and looks at it drive away for a moment, his yawn that you hear through the earbuds passed on to you as you involuntarily copy the action.

“That was the last one. I’m going back,” you agree with him as you press the option on the system that notifies everyone on the shift that your hero is coming back to headquarters.

“Done.”

“Thanks, Y/N, great work today!”

“You did it all, buddy.”

“Oh, no! None of us heroes could do it without you. All of you, really.”

You frown, a bit surprised. I mean, Izuku is always polite and thanks you after every shift, but today feels different. Like he is purposely saying that, as if he knew someone important was listening to their connection.

“You are… welcome?” You actually don’t know what to say. He simply chuckles.

By orders from your area, you can't leave until Deku’s entered the company back again, so you use that time to finish gathering your things and closing the system.

“I'm back. Wait for me, Y/N. I'll take you home,” not longer than five minutes later Izuku says through the earbuds.

“Oh. You don't have–”

“Kacchan asked me to.”

His words shut you up. But he doesn't wait for your answer as he finally disconnects the communication.

And you're left there, frozen for a moment, assimilating his words. Bakugou asked Izuku to take you home. He asked his best friend to take care of you, even when he knew Izuku would do it or offer on his own. Izuku always rode you home when you had night shifts together. Bakugou surely knows that. Then, why even mention it to his friend? Why personally ask Izuku to help you? Because… Bakugou didn't enter the company only for his unfinished paperwork. He did it to talk to Izuku. Was this… Bakugou taking care of you because you were married? Or because he wanted to?

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