#plot twist: he was never in love with y/n | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shellshocklove · 16 days ago

Text

snapshot | old man!logan

pairing/AU: old man!logan howlett x female!reader

summary: short on money for rent, your joke about starting an only fans account, to earn some extra cash, goes over logan's head. but when an accident with charles puts your life in danger, logan takes you up on your offer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! friends with benefits vibes who are also idiots in love, implied age gap, swearing, mentions and drinking of alcohol, use of pet names, logan's a bit of a grumpy dick, sex work, logan can't use a phone, logan can carry reader but he's also extremely strong, smut, praise kink, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), dom!logan, logan's got a dirty mouth, a little dacryphilia, sloppy blow job, facial, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: a little disclaimer. i actually have no idea how OF work i only read the wikipedia page, so i've taken some liberties with it to fit it with the plot lol. the idea for the reader as charles' caretaker is inspired by @joelsgoldrush's fic never is a promise <- incredible fic that everyone should read! and also a big thank you to @guiltyasdave for all the encouragement on this fic!! <333 happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The coffee tasted sour on his tongue as he waited, engine running on empty, but the whiskey kept his throat warm. Behind the apartment complex the sun crawled up the horizon and split the the dark asphalt in pieces with streaks of blinding sunlight. The street lights shut off just as you walked out, the rickety door slamming shut behind you.

Watching you round the front of the limousine Logan pulled his seat forward, his rough hand grabbing the wheel as his left foot tapped impatiently on the footrest. A tickle in his throat had him greet you with a cough, and he brought his fist to his mouth.

"Morning to you too," you said, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Don't fuckin' slam the door like that– I've told you a thousand times," Logan grunted back and put the car in drive.

This was routine at this point. He picked you up in the morning after driving all night, and dropped you off again in the evening before he started his shift. Employing you took a large wad of cash out of his pocket, but at least he didn't have to worry about Charles being taken care of. You weren't a registered nurse or anything, not someone who'd had all the right references and education, but you needed money and didn't ask questions, and that had been perfect for Logan. He'd hired you about a year ago, and everything after had been routine.

When you didn't say anything back, only shifted your weight in the seat and leaned your head against the window, it pulled at something inside Logan. He couldn't deny you were a beautiful woman. He liked the way your nose curved, how soft your skin felt against his cheek every time you'd given him a reluctant hug, and he liked the way you smelled. It was primal, and in another life Logan would've had you in his bed already, but in this life, Logan was done with beautiful women.

Still early enough for the roads to be empty, Logan pushed the speed limit as he waited for you to speak – to finally say something trivial like you did every morning – some song you'd just discovered, or the plot twist in the reality program you watched every night, or how they were out of your favorite yogurt at the grocery store. He'd reply with a grunt, or with nothing at all, just letting you talk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan noticed how you picked at the skin around your nails, and when the sharp metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils, he heaved a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong with you?" he grumbled. A lilt of annoyance coated the words, and Logan hated how your silence had affected him. His harsh tone didn't seem to bother you, and the realization cut like a knife; biting down, Logan's jaw clenched.

"It's nothing."

Logan had to hold back the scoff he wanted to let out, "Clearly it's somethin', kid."

Finally, a reaction out of you. Pushing yourself to sit up straight, you let out a sigh as you turned your head to look at him. "My landlord raised my rent again… I'm thinking about how I'm gonna pay rent this month. I'm gonna be a few hundred bucks short," you told him.

Oh.

Gripping the wheel a little tighter, Logan couldn't help himself from asking, "You tellin' me you're quittin'?"

He couldn't blame you, he thought he paid you a fair wage, but it seemed that everything had gotten more and more expensive lately. The rides had been few and far between and the tank of gas didn't take him as far anymore. The weekends kept him afloat, along with bachelor and bachelorette parties, prom nights, and knuckleheaded business men too fancy to drive a regular cab to the airport. Had it not been for Charles' medication he'd give you a raise. Logan wasn't stupid, he knew he couldn't do this without you.

"No," you shook your head, "I wouldn't do that to Charles."

But you'd do it to me, Logan thought and let the words unsaid hang in the air between you as he pulled onto the dirt road leading to the smelting plant.

"I'll figure something out," you said, before a smirk teased over your face, that smile breaking forth the old you hidden behind this morning's melancholia. "Maybe I should start an Only Fans or something," you laughed.

"What's that?" Logan grunted, too focused on keeping his foot soft on the brake and avoiding the potholes to hear your joking lilt.

"Only Fans?" you questioned, one eyebrow raised in surprise before your eyes softened at the corners. "It's a social media platform for porn," you explained, "It's subscription based so you make an account and people pay a monthly subscription to see your content."

Porn?

Slowing down to a stop outside the gate, Logan put the limousine in park, the engine still humming.

"And how's that gonna help you pay rent?" Logan wondered, turning slightly in his seat to finally get a good look at you.

You were quiet for a second, eyes searching his face before the sound of a distant train had you looking away, almost bashful. "It's ridiculous," you muttered, "I don't have anyone to do it with anyway."

Before Logan could cough up an answer your hand found the passenger door, and a gust of sharp desert air seeped in. "I'll figure out the rent somehow… Sleep well, Logan," you told him, a wistful smile coating your features, before you climbed out the limousine and opened the gate. His eyes stayed glued to you as he drove past you, flicking to watch you close the gate after him in the rearview mirror. When you headed for the tank without your usual wave, a frown pulled at his face.

Stepping out of the limousine, Logan watched you leave, watched the way your hips swayed with new interest. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he found his flask – desperate to quench this fresh thirst with the last sip of burning alcohol, smoothing his dry throat.

The cold coffee left a brown splatter as he discarded it; the coffee seeped into the sand. Inside the steeled walls he now called 'home' reeked of dust, like stepping into an antique shop, and Logan couldn't hold back his cough. Walking deeper into the plant with heavy steps, the old trinkets and equipment told a story of time passed.

So much time had passed.

Hanging his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs Logan started working the small buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off before tossing it gently over the ironing board. Food would have to wait, he already knew the fridge wasn't stocked. Instead, he found the bottle of whiskey he'd left on the table, grabbing it by the neck before he took a large swig.

The whiskey helped, at least that's what he told himself, but his senses never dulled enough and the weight never got any easier. Sitting down heavy on the bed, Logan drank long and hard, but he couldn't keep his thoughts from trailing to you and what you’d muttered. I don't have anyone to do it with anyway.

What was it you'd called it? Just Fans? No, that wasn't right… Only Fans.

Logan remembered the first tape he ever saw; it had been the 70s, a summer in California, at some party he'd been forced to by a beautiful woman. The tape had been projected onto a wall in the living room, like background noise no one paid attention to. It had been lewd and obnoxious, but no one had seemed to mind, high as kites and drunk as skunks. Soon, Logan hadn't minded either, whisking away the woman to make his own private porn in one of the bedrooms.

Behind the woven fabric of his slacks, his cock twitched at the thought, but it wasn't the porn playing at the party, or the memory of the woman he'd fucked that filled his mind, it was you.

It was innocent at first; the way your front teeth nibbled on your bottom lip as you pondered your next move in a game of chess opposite Charles, how your eyes sparkled under the low streetlights as he drove you home at the end of the day, and how your perfume had filled the limousine and clung to his skin that one time you'd left your jacket in the passenger seat. His hand came down to rub over the growing bulge in his pants, soothing the growing ache with a hard press, pulling a rumbling moan from his chest.

Soon the innocent memories of you turned to filth. Logan's mind filled with images of you underneath him, his cock buried balls deep in your wet cunt as you withered for him. Then, as quickly as the first image had come, another took its place: of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed with his cock, gagging around him and swallowing him down like a good girl.

With each rubbing press to his cock, Logan couldn't shake the rolling images of you. It was wrong, never had he thought about you like that, never had he wanted to think of you like that, but once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

Working his fingers, it was almost instinctual as they moved to undo the button of his pants. His hand dug into his front, large hand palming himself with hard presses, as his cock hardened. Trailing his fingers upwards, stopping right above the elastic band of his underwear, his hand so close to wrapping around himself, a hint of shame pulled him out of the gutter.

He shouldn’t think about you like that.

Pulling away, like he'd burnt his hand, Logan let out a deep grumbling sigh. Leaning back on both hands, he let his head fall back as he squeezed his eyes shut. In his pants his cock throbbed with need. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman, so long since he'd felt the velvet walls of a tight cunt wrapped around him, too long since he'd felt like he wasn't a monster, if only for a few blissful seconds.

Bringing the neck of the whiskey bottle to his mouth, Logan drowned his need in temporary numbness, focusing instead on how the warmth filled his chest and dulled every ache. Falling back with a heavy bounce, he nursed the bottle in the crook of his thick arm, letting his eyes fall shut.

Logan couldn't remember the last time he wasn't tired, couldn't remember when his body didn't ache with every move. His veins bled through with rust and alcohol, and he hoped the latter made the corrosion run smoother.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the same flashing images filled the darkness. Years of fighting, years of killing, all the people he'd lost. It was the same show every night, and every night it tore a piece of him away, of his joy.

The bottom of the whiskey bottle clanked sharply as it hit the floor and a cough got stuck in his throat. It ripped and jerked in his chest, and he keeled over himself, fighting against it. When his head hit the pillow again, his eyes didn't fall shut, they trailed the walls, found the holes of blinding daylight seeping in through the holes in the corrugated metal sheets, and his thoughts found you again.

Curiosity got the best of him, and a hand dug into the back pocket of his pants for his phone. The small icons and text blended together as the screen lit up his face. When Logan held the phone a little further away the screen only got blurrier. With an exasperated sigh, he sat up, his body protesting as he grabbed his suit jacket off the dining chair, digging into the inner pocket for his new glasses.

Slumping down in the chair, his glasses resting at the tip of his nose, he tapped at his phone. He rarely used the thing outside of work, but suddenly he tapped at something that made it speak to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite get that," his phone said.

"Hello?" Logan spoke back.

Again his phone lit up and the voice answered. "Hello, what can I help you with?"

"What is Only Fans?"

……..

Fitting a brittle leaf between your thumb and pointer finger, you studied Charles' plants. The table always looked a mess after he'd tended to them, dirt spilled onto the table and tools thrown haphazardly about. Cupping your hand, you brushed the dirt into your hand, and discarded it into a pot you thought needed it.

Flicking your wrist, you looked at the time again. It was getting late. Usually by this time, Logan would have you halfway home already. Resorting to cleaning up the tools, you decided to give him half an hour before you'd start looking for him. He never slept in, although you could clearly see he needed it.

Logan wasn't a man to show weakness, not to anybody, rather, he showed his teeth, barking and fighting against you or anyone who dared speak to him. It had intimidated you at first, and you'd held your tongue, afraid he'd bite your head off, but in time you'd come to realize that his gruff demeanor was just that, a façade.

Charles on the other hand, senile and more and more forgetful, was the opposite of his son. On good days he beat you at chess while he told you stories about 'the good ol' days'. His imagination was vast, telling stories about the X-Men like he knew them, like he'd been a part of them, and especially by nightfall his stories would become even wilder. He'd tell you about his 'abilities', how he could read minds. He'd tell stories about Logan too, tragic ones, that if it hadn't been for the stack of comics you'd found, you would've almost said they were true.

Finding the chair by Charles' bed, you watched him deep in sleep. A heaviness could be felt in your chest as you thought about how his good and lucid days had seemed to get fewer and fewer lately. You found yourself having the same conversations with him, and once again today, he didn't want to get out of bed, telling you his head hurt.

You wished you knew more of his condition, but Logan wouldn't tell you anything other than that Charles suffered from seizures, and if he didn't get his medication the consequences would be great. The way Logan had said it to you, his voice sharp and strict, it sounded serious, and in the year you'd taken care of Charles, you'd been diligent with his medication. Not once had you experienced a seizure with him.

Reaching over him, your palm found Charles' cheek. Stroking your hand lightly over his face, you felt the prickling stubble against your skin. His comment earlier about his head, had you worried. Logan usually supplied you with Charles' medication – from where you didn't know – there hadn't been any doctor's visits or health checks from what you could recall.

Maybe Logan didn't have insurance? It was your only explanation, a reason for why he'd found a more creative way of caring for his father.

In a way you respected it, hacked an unknowing crack in Logan’s harsh façade– he cared. Only respect didn’t keep you from wanting Logan to tell you more, to open up, but wringing out more than a grunt from him was difficult. Instead, you made sure to let him know when you were running low on the pills and injections, and usually by the next day he'd hand over a new bottle.

Stroking over Charles’ cheek, another chill of nervousness ran up your back where a worry tugged at your neck.

Yesterday, after a week had passed since you'd asked Logan for more medication. He’d told you not to worry, that he’d have the pills soon, but running so low you'd had to resort to rationing Charles' doses.

Pulling back your hand, your eyes found your watch again, but before you could register the time, Charles stirred beside you. Then, an excruciating blinding pain permeated through your body. It rang in your ears and had your body shaking in agony, but at the same time you couldn't move. You wanted to scream, let out the pain that froze you to the chair, but no noise came out. When your vision started to go foggy, you thought that this must be what dying was like, but never would you have thought dying would feel this painful.

Through the ringing in your ears, a heavy creak of the tank door could be heard– or was it a trick your brain played on you in your last moments? Like the broad figure moving closer, slowly, too slowly, like it walked through water. You couldn't see who it was, but you didn't have too. Surely, your brain showing you Logan in your last moments, must've been a trick. The figure hovered over Charles, maybe it feasted on him first, reaped his soul as an appetizer before it would have you.

And just as quickly as the pain had taken you, the pain stopped.

Heaving for breath, your body fell forward, it was like the air couldn't fill your lungs quick enough. Two large palms cupped your cheek, tilting your head to Logan's frowning face. If you didn't know better you thought he looked scared.

"You okay?" he barked, your head rolling in his hands, "Hey! Bub, look at me."

You found the strength to nod your head, but Logan seemed far from convinced. He swiped his thumb over your cupid's bow, a flash of red coating his thumb and his face turned to stone, his frown so deep it looked chiseled.

Then he moved with an uncharacteristic haste, hiking you up in his arms and carrying you out of the tank. Closing your eyes, you tried to put your brain back together the way it used to be, but everything felt scrambled. When your back hit the soft mattress of a bed, you finally opened them.

Over you, Logan's large form hovered. He said something to you, but you only registered his mouth moving, your eyes glued to his pink soft lips, and your vision cleared completely.

"Drink this," he ordered, shoving a glass of water in your hands, and just like that your hearing had snapped back. "'m gonna go check on Charles– don't fucking move."

With no energy left in your body, you wouldn't dream of it. Logan watched you take a careful sip, the water lukewarm, before he left you in what you finally realized was his bed. The first sip nourished your dry throat, like you’d walked for miles in the desert without tasting as much as a drop. Surging forward, you chugged the rest of the water before you fell back against his pillow, clutching the glass in the crook of your elbow.

The smell of him on his sheets overwhelmed your weakened mind; a deep heady smell with a warmth to it, woven through with the heaviness of man. It soothed your mushy muscles, helping release the tension in your body.

The time passed differently now, fast and slow at the same time, and after an eternity and a second Logan was back. The weight of him where he sat down at the edge of the bed, had your whole body tipping towards him. His large palm found your cheek again, the rough pads of his fingers soothing over the skin.

"You doin' okay?" he asked, his deep voice filtering through a hint of worry.

"W-what happened to him– to m-me?" you managed to croak out.

Logan's heavy hand didn't move away when the furrow between his eyebrows deepened, the one that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face.

"He had a seizure," he told you, like it was obvious, taking the glass of water from your hands,

He must've caught the way your face turned, the confusion that flitted across it, one that spelled 'seizures don't affect other people'.

"Listen," he started, drawing back his hand, "There’s no other way of explainin' it to you other than tellin' you that all those stories he's told you about him– about me… they're all true."

The frown that deepened over your face at his words, must've challenged the permanent one over Logan's face. "W-what? The stories about the X-Men?"

"Yes, the X-Men– Is he talkin' a hole through your head about anything else?"

"No, but… there aren't any more mutants."

"Not new ones,” he sighed, “But we're old, sweetheart– the last there is." His voice went quieter and quieter as he spoke, a hint of sadness eating the words, before his palm found your cheek again. "You see… Charles he's a very powerful mutant, and years ago he started a school for mutants–"

"–I know all of that already Logan– he told me," you cut him off, "I never believed him, I thought he was just confused– the stories they–"

"–I know, bub," this time he cut you off, but he let the next words linger on his tongue. Drawing back his hand, his eyes found the wall behind the bed. "I never meant for you to get hurt– it's my fault. If he gets his medication he's fine, but… you ain't the only one who's a few hundred dollars short– it's been a slow month."

Before you had a chance to reply, Logan rose on his feet. "The seizures messes with your brain, so get some rest. I'm gonna get his medication, and I'll wake ya in the mornin'." Logan didn't wait for you to protest before he grabbed the car keys off the table, and left you alone in his bed.

Outside the moon climbed the sky, and the new darkness, along with your scrambled brain, had your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier.

……..

"Wake up, sweetheart."

Logan's gruff voice pulled you from a dreamless sleep; a sleep like you'd just closed your eyes. Blinking, your heavy eyelids pulled shut just as quickly as you'd opened them, leaving you with a snapshot of Logan's body hovering over you. You hummed, sleep coating your brain, while your body felt like you'd put it through the wringer at the gym.

"It's mornin'."

You tried again, blinking your eyes open with more success. Logan's black suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, instead he adorned a white tank top. Letting your gaze roll over him, you noticed the scars etched into his skin, so many scattered up and down his strong arms, and suddenly the memories of last night filtered back into your brain.

"Logan," you whispered so low even you weren't sure you’d heard it.

"I'm takin' you home, alright? I'll watch him today," he told you.

When Logan told you something, he meant it. Leaving you in his bed, it was like a replay of last night as he grabbed the car keys and black suit jacket off the table.

Slowly, you sat up and leaned on your elbows, letting the world spin for a minute. Your clothes from yesterday clung to your skin, and you felt both cold and sweaty as you got out of bed.

With each step you took every muscle ached, but somehow you managed to walk out the door. The burning light of the morning sun blinded you, and with one hand raised you shielded your eyes from the harshness while you walked closer to the humming impatient motor of Logan's limousine. Just as you'd sunk into the leather seat and managed to shut the door behind you, Logan stepped on the gas, and the smelting plant vanished in the rearview window.

When you'd finally left the dirt road behind and hit the highway, you cracked the window ever so slightly – the morning air blowing away the last of your tiredness. The closer you got to the city, the more your stomach growled. You hadn't had a thing to eat since lunch yesterday, the aftermath of Charles’ seizure knocking you out before dinner– you needed something to eat.

"Can we stop here?" you asked and pointed at a sign advertising a diner off the next exit.

"I'm drivin' you home," Logan replied, his eyes glued to the road.

"Logan, please, I'm starving," you begged with a pout.

A beat passed, his fingers tapping over the wheel as he weighed his options, then his eyes found yours where they lingered. Staring back, you didn't know what to do. Logan wasn't a man that said yes, he liked things done his way. You bit down on your bottom lip, showing off your front teeth like a silent 'please' written over your face, and Logan huffed.

The loud buzz of conversation hit you first when you stepped into the packed diner, Logan in tow. Waiters ran back and forth between the booths lining the windows, taking breakfast orders and pouring coffee, and at the sound of the bell as the door swung shut behind you, one of them looked up at you.

"Seat yourselves," she said with a smile as golden as the syrup poured over hotcakes, "I'll be with you in a jiffy."

Walking deeper into the diner, you found an empty booth in a quiet corner. Logan seemed pleased, never too keen on people, and after what you'd come to know after last night, you could understand his hesitation.

Logan. The Wolverine.

You remembered the comics from when you were a kid, remembered this one kid in your class in elementary school that had been obsessed with them, reading every issue and Wolverine had been his favorite. He was a scientist now, last you heard, and here you sat opposite the comic character himself.

"Mornin', what can I get you guys?" the waitress asked, pulling up to your table.

"Um," you grabbed at the laminated menu in front of you, your eyes scanning over the breakfast items. Everything looked good, your stomach growling loud as you took in the pictures, but then again you didn't think you'd ever been this hungry before.

"Just coffee f'me, ma'am," Logan grunted.

"Could I get a stack of the blueberry pancakes… and a coffee for me too, please?" you ordered, watching the waitress with the name tag 'Stacy' write down your order.

"That'll be all for you guys this morning?" she smiled.

"Yes, thank you," you returned her smile.

"Alright, I'll be back in a second with your coffees."

While you waited for your pancakes, Logan wasn't much company. He sipped his coffee, black and piping hot, as he leaned against the corner of the booth, legs spread wide, watching the people coming and going. In the silence between you, you decided to study him while you sipped your own coffee. He must've felt your gaze over him, from the way he clenched his jaw, but he never turned his head to look at you, instead he let you look.

When your pancakes finally arrived, you dug in immediately. Fresh, hot and deliciously pillow-y and soft, it was the best thing you'd had in a while. The blueberries weren't too sweet, cutting through the sweetness of the pancakes with a tangy taste, while the bitter taste of your coffee woke you up and filled you with new energy.

"So," Logan suddenly spoke up, almost making the piece of pancake you were chewing on go down the wrong pipe. "How you feelin'?"

"Like I'm having the worst hangover in human history," you joked, "But better now after some food and caffeine."

Logan only hummed, turning his head back to people watching as you ate your pancakes. His silence had a frown work over your features when you placed your knife and fork down to sip on your coffee. He'd been so quiet all morning, which in truth wasn't new, but there was something about him now, something about the way his scowl dug a little deeper into his skin that had you asking:

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothin'," he answered, curt and to the point.

"Clearly it's something," you pried with a tilt of your head.

Another beat passed, before he leaned forward, a cough getting stuck in his throat. It sounded worse than it was, he'd told you once. So, you sipped your coffee, your eyes flitting away like you needed to give him privacy.

"I've been thinkin' about your proposal," he finally said, and you felt your eyebrows pull together in a frown.

"Wait?" your eyes found his, "What proposal?"

"About that subscription thing– the porn," he waved his hand, and leaned back again.

"Only Fans?" you asked, keeping your voice low, "It was just a joke, Logan."

"Well, maybe it's an idea for the both of us. I need money for Charles' medication, and you need money for rent– it'll just be us earnin' a little extra on the side, a win-win situation."

Letting his words sink in, you mulled over his idea in your brain. It wasn't like you weren't attracted to Logan, in truth, you'd wanted him to fuck you for a while now, but it had only been a fantasy, one to conjure forth late at night when you slipped your hand into your panties. To have it become a reality, served up by Logan himself on a silver platter, you'd never imagined.

How could you say no?

"Okay," you said, your voice breathy as what you'd just agreed to settled in your stomach. Having a little more cash in your account every month wouldn't hurt, and getting dick regularly sounded just as nice, it had been too long. "I'm in."

Logan only replied with a curt nod accompanied by an approving grunt, "Now eat your pancakes so we can get goin'."

………

"Cold feet?"

With the limousine parked outside your apartment building, a week's worth of anticipation came to a head. You and Logan hadn't really talked much in the days passed since the diner; Logan's main interest more in you feeling better after experiencing Charles' powers for the first time. He'd let you have a few days off, to heal up, to which you'd taken the opportunity to do some research and set up an Only Fans profile. Currently it was blank, but tonight that would change.

"No," you shook your head, telling true. "You?" you asked, turning in your seat to face Logan.

Logan eyes darted across your face. He never looked at you like that, and for a moment the oddity of the situation, of what you were about to do, settled in your stomach.

"No," Logan finally decided, and reached for the door handle, “Let’s get it over with before it gets too late.”

At his movement, you reached forward and grabbed his forearm, "Wait!"

With a grunt, Logan turned. "What?" he asked, his eyes settling on you with an eyebrow raised.

"I-I have an idea," you told him, and you didn't know why you stumbled over your words. With your hand still wrapped around his arm, his eyes fell to your touch, lingering before they found yours again.

"I was thinking–" you started, retracing your hand, "Well actually… I just restarted taking birth control and I wanted to settle into it before we have sex, so I thought maybe– if you want to of course," you rambled.

"Spit it out, bub, I ain't got all night," Logan cut you off.

"I thought maybe I could suck you off– here in the limo," you 'spat' out your suggestion, your front teeth immediately coming down to bully your bottom lip.

"You want to suck my cock… here?" he repeated. Leaning back in his seat, you didn't know if he spread his legs on purpose, or if he unconsciously drew your eyes to the bulge hidden behind his slacks.

"Yeah, I mean…" you shrugged, "I thought it could be hot? Like something that people would want to see?"

"Right," Logan hummed, reminded of the invisible audience, and reached for the key in the ignition.

Leaving your apartment building in the rearview mirror, Logan searched for a more secluded place to park. The windows in the back of the limousine were tinted, impossible to look into, but you didn't want to take the risk of getting caught. After finding an empty parking lot, backing up and occupying a more private space in the back corner, Logan guided you around the limousine with a hand resting gently over the small of your back. Climbing into the back with you, his broad form filled the space.

Inside, he'd turned on the lights, the colors slowly fading in and out and casting soft shadows across his features. The leather creaked as he sat down, his spread legs already inviting you to slot between. A fleeting feeling of nervousness tickled in your tummy, the reality of what you were about to do washing over you like a wave on a stormy ocean.

Logan watched you from his seat, a picture of sin in his suit, as he slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and fished out his glasses. His jacket fit snugly over his wide shoulders and he'd undone the top buttons where you could glimpse curling chest hair. The way he looked at you through the glasses, eyes dark and curious, had a warmth of arousal starting to pool in the core of yourself.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up, "I was thinking I could set my phone up here–" you pointed to the space between the leather seats and the window. "And then you could use your phone and film me?"

After a little bit of fiddling to get your phone to stay upright, you turned to Logan, your phone capturing your slow walk towards him. He sat with his legs spread wide, his large palms resting on either side of his thighs. When you reached for the hem of your shirt, his finger twitched, digging into the leather, and a toothy smile spread over your features.

Tossing your shirt you sunk to your knees and slotted between his legs. Looking up at him through your lashes, you held his gaze as you sat pretty for him, fanning out the skirt you'd worn specifically for today. He reached for his phone and pressed record when you curled your hands behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, capturing your bare chest.

The air nipped at your exposed skin, making goosebumps ripple over your skin. Looking up at Logan, his eyes burned against your skin where he took in your breasts, his eyes glided over your bare skin for the first time and soothed out the bubbling nerves that had been brewing. When your eyes caught on the tent growing in his pants, you had to restrain yourself from surging forward, your mouth already watering at the thought of tasting him for the first time – of your wet dreams becoming a reality.

"S'pretty," he murmured, voice deep and guttural, soaked in arousal.

He cupped your cheek gently, the rough pad of his thumb skating over your skin bringing with it a calming safety. Your eyelashes fluttered as you tilted your head into his hand, desperate to feel more of the weathered skin of his hand against your body.

"Y'sure you want this, sweetheart?" he asked.

Opening your eyes, you held his gaze. "Yes, please," you nodded in his large palm, "It's the only thing I've thought about all day." And it was the truth.

"Shit, baby," he groaned in response, dragging his hand down your neck to rest heavy over the top of your breasts. "S'that so?"

Gathering your hands in your lap, you nodded slowly, your teeth caught on your bottom lip as his hand brushed over your right breast. "Thought of how you'd taste," you confessed, the phone in his hand forgotten as you focused entirely on Logan.

"Yeah?" he prompted. One knuckle brushed over your hardened nipples, pulling a quiet whimper from you– pleased he leaned back, "Take off my belt, then."

Bouncing on your knees, you leaned forward on his command, and pulled the leather belt from its loops. You did it slowly, tilting your head upwards to catch his eyes through the glasses. He helped you with the zipper, making you watch as he dragged it down.

With your eyes fixed on his hand you noticed three barely healed scars between every knuckle, and you remembered who Logan really was. The Wolverine. He caught you looking, and his hand tightened into a fist, tightening it for a beat before he relaxed it over his thigh. Leaning forward, you placed a soft kiss over his knuckles, and his hand dug into his thigh.

"Sweetheart," he breathed out, his voice strained.

In the depths of your chest you felt a pinch, a tiny stab in your heart that felt too real, too personal for what you were about to do. Willing it away, you leaned back on your ankles instead, your hands dipping into the waistband of his pants to pull down his slacks. Lifting his hips to help you ease them down, a quiet grunt escaped him, a deep sound that traveled down your spine and pooled in your core.

Behind the soft cotton of his underwear the firm hard line of his cock strained against the fabric. The sight of him, large and heavy, and hidden, had your eyes widening with lust, and a slickness soiling the gusset of your panties.

"You want my cock, don't you sweetheart?" he coaxed, his free hand finding your jaw where he cupped it, squeezing your cheeks together.

"Y-yes," you breathed out, your smile straining against his grip before you dropped your mouth open, showing him your tongue.

"There you go, baby– good girl," he praised, pressing his thumb down on your tongue and rubbing the saliva around. A soft moan caught in your throat at the praise, and behind the camera Logan's eyes darkened at his new discovery.

Wrapping both your hands around his wrist, you held his hand in place as you closed your lips around him. Slowly, you moved your head, up and down, up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on his thumb like you would his cock. Logan's eyes were intense behind his glasses, his jaw clenching tight while he stared into your own.

"Such a filthy little thing f'me– so desperate for my cock down your throat you'll suck anything, ain't that right?"

A choked moan escaped you; they way he talked to you adding fuel to the fire in your core. Between the seam of your cunt you ached, wet arousal dripping into your soiled panties. He must've watched the way you melted for him, your brain turning to mush in front of him, because when he pulled his hand away, he laughed. A deep guttural thing from the depth of his chest.

"C'mon little angel," he tapped at your cheek, "Let's put you out of your misery."

Clouded in arousal, your brain stalled at the nickname, and you felt a new gush of arousal spill between the seam of your cunt. Logan's nostrils flared and a wild darkness settled over his face.

Shifting on your knees, you leaned forward to palm him through his underwear. Making sure to flick your eyes up at him (and the camera), you dragged your finger up and down gently, seductively, before you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his clothed length. Above you, Logan sucked in a breath, his free hand coming down to pet your head and press your face firmly against his bulge.

You couldn't help but breathe him in. Breathe in the heady deep scent of man, cheap whiskey and cigars – the unique scent of Logan. When you let out the softest little sigh, you felt him twitch against you, and quickly his hand on your head traveled down to the back of your neck where he pulled you back with a harsh yank.

You yelped.

"No more teasin'–" he reprimanded and let go of you, "Be a good little angel and make me come."

Logan leaned back into the leather, his body relaxed and inviting with one hand still occupied with filming you. Watching the deep furrow forming between his brows, and the way his eyes burned your face through his glasses, you could tell he wanted to take control, make you do what he wanted.

With a curling smile, knowing full and well you had the upper hand with one of his hands occupied, you slipped your eager hands into the elastic waistband of his underwear and tugged.

A wild and wiry patch of graying hair met you first, and you felt a flock of eagerness flutter in your stomach. Tugging the fabric down slowly, you made a show of revealing just an inch at a time. When you finally reached the end of him, you felt the wet head of him graze your cheek, leaving a streak of precum, as it sprung free.

His hard cock bopped heavily in front your face, and you felt your eyes widen at his size. He was big. The hefty length of him cushioned against his balls hanging heavy over the band of his underwear. Reaching a shaky hand forward you took him in your hand for the first time and familiarized yourself with the thick weight of him. With your other hand you traced the thick veins that lined the girth of him, memorizing every ridge and freckle before coming up to thumb at the fat tip where a pearl of wetness beaded.

A mix of awe and uncertainty pooled in your chest. How in the hell were you gonna fit all of him down your throat?

"'s okay, angel," he cooed, his heavy hand back to stroke over your head. His touch soothed you, a rhythmic warmth that shed all your insecurities.

With a content sigh you leaned forward and parted your lips to press a soft kiss to the leaking tip, pulling a "There you go, good girl, open your mouth f'me," from Logan. Urged on by his praise, you got a little braver. Flattening your tongue against him you started with a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, your tongue dipping into the slit to taste him in earnest.

Above you, a groan rumbled in Logan's chest, a sound that had you eagerly taking more of him in your mouth. Suckling carefully on the fat tip, you let your tongue tease the underside of him, humming in content when you felt him harden even more in your hands.

Letting the excess spit run down the length of him, it pooled over your hands where they struggled to wrap around the thick girth. Slick sounds came from your hands when you started to move them over the soft skin, coating him fully in your saliva with every tug.

"Shit, bub, y'look so fuckin' good around my cock," Logan's voice vibrated from his chest, "But y'can take it deeper, can't you? Take that big cock down your throat?"

Well, you would certainly try.

Your knees dug into the carpeted floor of the limousine, pressing a deep pattern into your skin. Popping off his cock, you sat up a little more and shifted your weight. Looking up at him through your lashes, you were reminded of the camera pointed at you. Looking straight down the barrel of his phone you sunk down further on his cock.

Dropping your jaw, you felt your lips stretch as his hefty cock filled your throat. All too quickly the head of him kissed the back of your throat and you had to fight your gag reflex. Pulling off with a gasp, your eyes widened as you looked up at him.

"It's so big," you told him, both of your slicked hands jerking him in a slow rhythm.

"I know, angel," he cooed, his thumb running over your cheek. Leaning forward again, you placed a soft kiss to the fat head, and he hissed, "Too big f'you?"

"No," you shook your head, smearing the head from one corner of your mouth to the other, spreading the precum leaking onto your lips, and humming at the taste of him. "It's perfect– taste so perfect," you said through a pillowy kiss to the head.

With a buck of his hips, he pushed back into your eager mouth, slipping the fat head through your swollen lips and into your flexed throat, "That's it– right where it belongs, huh?"

Fitting him as deep as you could down your throat you felt dizzy with desire, an almost overwhelming feeling; the smell of him so close, how he filled your mouth and made your jaw ache. When your nose pressed into the grayed patch of wiry hair at the base of his cock, you spluttered with need, spit soaking the length of him as you came off him with a cough.

In an instance, Logan was on you, his free hand petting your cheek as he searched your eyes, "You okay?" I wouldn't be until after, when you edited the video that you'd realize he'd dropped the phone, focusing only on you in that moment.

"Yes," you replied, looking into his eyes with a toothy smile, "I want more– I want your cum."

"Fuck," he hissed, letting go of your cheek and leaning back into the leather seat, pointing his phone at you, "Go on."

Fitting him back down your throat again, you got lost in it as you found a rhythm. With a hand stationed at the base, you bobbed your head, letting your tongue dance over the length. More saliva dripped down and pooled over your hand, slicking up his pubes. It was messy, and hot, sticky and wet. Above you, Logan muttered praises between grunts and moans, encouraging you to take him deeper and deeper.

Feeling your throat loosen with every bob of your head, you pushed down and swallowed around him. Your eyelashes fluttered as you gagged and coughed, tears starting to prickle from your eyes, but you were determined to please him– to make him feel good.

When his hand came down to wrap around your throat, his thumb skating over your neck to feel himself, your eyes rolled back in your head in pleasure – the sight of you making Logan let out a deep growl. He kept the hand clasped around your throat as he started to buck his hips, feeding you his cock in small lazy thrusts.

"Right there, angel, so fuckin' good f'me… my good girl– choke on it," he mumbled.

You hummed around him at the praise, the vibrations pulling another deep moan from him. Fucking your face, bubbling spit trickled out the corner of your lips, soaking him and the coarse hair on his balls where they slapped heavy against your chin. Slipping a hand between your thighs, you couldn't help but touch yourself through your underwear – the white cotton translucent and drenched with your arousal.

Chasing his high, Logan's thrusts started to come quicker. More and more saliva overflowed, dripping down your bare chest and slicking you up in depravity. The grip Logan had around his phone was lazy, but he made sure to capture the way the shifting colors of the low limousine light gleamed over your slicked up chest.

"Such a good fuckin' throat–" he growled, squeezing around your throat as he pushed himself as deep as he could. Your nose brushed the wiry patch of his pubic hair, and you felt yourself start to gag around him as your lungs squeezed and throat tightened. He kept you down as you spluttered and swallowed around the length of him, and when the edges of the world started to blur he pulled you off with a jerk.

Gasping for air and filling your lungs with lost breaths, the hand Logan had wrapped around your neck was now pushing your own hand away to wrap around himself. The tears on your cheek mixed with the strings of saliva on your chin, as you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. Watching him stroke his cock, your eyes widened with interest as you shifted on your knees to sit up straighter.

His hard cock pulsated and throbbed with need as he stroked. Up and down you watched his hand; watched how beads of precum drooled over his fingers, mixing with your saliva before it dripped down onto your chest. A primal feeling came over you – an urge so strong to taste him come undone and claim you as his.

"Please," you begged, the fat head ghosting against your lips with every jerk, "come for me, please– wanna taste you so badly."

Logan's grunts and growls grew deeper and wilder as he stroked himself faster. "Look at me, angel," he ordered, and when your eyes locked with his, combined with a final hard stroke, he aimed the wet tip towards your face and came hard.

The first pump of his sticky warm seed, made you flinch before a smile widened and you leaned closer. Dropping your mouth open, he came all over your face, coating your cheeks, your nose, and forehead. Thumbing at the tip, he aimed at your waiting mouth to squeeze out the last few drops, and he finally let you taste him.

Wrapping your lips around the head, you suckled around him through content hums. You were covered in his cum, claimed, feeling the sticky seed drip down the bridge of your nose. You loved the way he tasted, salty and bitter, like Logan.

When the feeling of your tongue dancing over his sensitive head became too much, he pulled away with a hiss. His phone was still aimed at your face, and a little more clear-headed he filmed the aftermath of his orgasm closer.

"Even prettier with my cum on your face, angel," he said, letting his finger drag over your skin to collect his cum.

Pretty.

"Thank you," you whispered, your throat hoarse as he fed you his cum.

You hummed around his finger as he cleaned you up, making sure not a single drop would go to waste, and when he was pleased with his work after you'd shown him your empty tongue, he cupped your cheek.

"Good little angel," he told you with a pad, and pressed the stop button on his phone.

Back at your apartment the buzz of the excitement of the night lingered as you replayed the scene on your computer. You thought about Logan, about where he was and who might sit in the seat where you'd sucked him off only hours earlier. You thought about how filthy his mouth had been, and how much it had turned you on. And lastly, you thought about how you couldn't wait to see him again, and for him to finally fuck you.

Editing the video together, the last thing you did before you fell asleep was upload. Logan had taken a photo of your hand over his clothed cock before he'd left you, a picture that was now set as your profile picture. All tuckered out, you closed your computer and fell back against your pillows, dreaming of the smell of leather and cheap whiskey.

James & Angel ✨👼 📍 Texas subscribers: 15,478

1 post: "cute girl gives older limousine driver a sloppy blowjob"

..................

hopefully this was okay? i have concepts of a part 2 lol so please don't ask for it. instead, a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and/or tell me what you'd comment under james' & angel's first video! my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

#logan howlett #logan james howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #james logan howlett x reader #x men fanfic #old man!logan #old man!logan x reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #old man!logan smut #hugh jackman #x-men smut #*writing

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sceletaflores · 2 months ago

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woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base.

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him.

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

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imaginesbymonika · 4 months ago

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Not a violent dog | Part 1

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade‘s world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, and fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven’t written in A WHILE so bear with me

Masterlist

Wade met you in 2016, while he was staying at the X-Men mansion. You didn’t look up from your spot behind the counter when he came into the kitchen, your eyes were observing how the colorful cereal chunks were floating in the brownish milk. It didn’t take long for him to ultimately recognize you. “You’re Y/N!”, he exclaimed loudly, as if he made the discovery of a lifetime:” Cat Claw, was it, right?” You didn’t respond, instead, your y/e/colored eyes solely looked up. At the sight of his face, you slightly tilted your head. He immediately began ranting about how he truly believed that you could have had your own franchise if Sony cared enough about women before he made a shiver run down your spine.

“You’re Logan’s girl, right?”, he asked innocently, however, the next thing Wade knew, was how the bowl of cereal slammed against the wall right next to his face. He didn’t flinch, instead, he merely ran his finger down the milk stains before putting them into his mouth:” Oat milk, how responsible of you. We should all take better care of Mother-Earth, con-.” But before he had the chance to end his sentence, you made a few long steps toward him until your faces were only a couple of centimeters apart from one another. “That is so hot.”, Wade whispered while you studied his burned features.

“Don’t you ever take his name into your mouth again, or I’ll cut your tongue out!”

“That’s even hotter!”

Wade very quickly learned that despite your powers, your inability to die, and your unbelievably harsh persona you carried a lot of heartbreak inside. Things between you and Logan didn’t end well. You heard about his death through Charles Xavier, a couple of months after he mysteriously disappeared. And never getting any actual explanation or closure had turned you into a person no one could recognize anymore. You were always angry, short-tempered, and mean like a nervous dog. Because let’s call it by its name: you were beyond hurt. There was no term in the dictionary that could fully define how you felt about the whole situation.

So when Wade came across the other Logan, he eventually brought you up. “You’re a hero in my world, you know. Everyone idolizes you.”, Wade explained, looking down at the canned food and taking it into his hands:” No wait, scratch that- almost everyone loves you.”

Logan, who was sitting with his back turned to Wade only scoffed:” Whoever that person is, they’re probably smarter than the rest.” “Yeah, maybe.”, he simply replied, looking out of the window:” I mean, she doesn’t talk about it. Except for this one time where she was really, really drunk and we sang karaoke together…it was terrific.”

“She?”

Wade turned his head:” Yeah, Y/N.” He observed how Logan abruptly tensed up, almost as if the name alone switched on something inside of him:” Say it again.” And for one short second one could've argued that Logan was begging. The sound of his voice was almost vulnerable.

The man in the red outfit blinked a couple of times before he gazed into the open air:” We are about to find out something significant for the plot, guys!”, he whispered excitedly before clearing his throat and turning back to Logan: “Y/N, you know- the X-Man. Wasted potential if you ask me, Sony could’ve made so much money off of her. She’s really popular with women and girls above the age of 14, I-.”

“Cut the bullshit!”, he turned in his chair, eyebrows furrowed:” You are telling me that in your world, she is still alive?”

“What a plot twist!”

Turns out, Logan lost his version of you years ago on a mission. “It was supposed to be an easy one.”, Logan explained, while the two men wandered through the desert-looking realm:” Get into the lab, eliminate the mutant killing weapons, and then leave again-.” He took a deep breath, while his eyes roamed over the uninhabited land. His angry eyes suddenly much softer and sadder:” We thought we killed every guard. The bullet came out of nowhere, and hit her right in the chest.”

Only the sound of the wind cut through the stillness. „ We were supposed to get married. Charles had already promised that we would be able to build a home in the woods next to the School. So she could become a teacher… she always adored the mutant children that lived there. Said she wanted some of her own one day, with me…”

Wade stared at the ground:” I am sorry.” But Logan shook his head in comeback:” It’s all good. That’s how life is.“

“That’s what she always says as well.”, Wade muttered under his breath, as the two continued walking:” But I know she's always lying to me.”

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #xmen x reader #xmen imagine #angst #logan howlett angst #deadpool

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chiyuuchu · 4 months ago

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I. The plot twist of admiration <3 (1st August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! The girls are figuring out who could be the one sending Y/n all these gifts.

second part here!

A/N i’m ngl, i giggled writing this

It had been a few weeks since Y/N started receiving anonymous gifts on her desk: bouquets of flowers, boxes of her favorite sweets, and bottles of her preferred drinks. Each day brought a new surprise, and the girls in Class 1-A were buzzing with speculation about who the mysterious admirer might be.

Mina, who loved a good mystery, was the first to voice her theories. “You know, I think it might be Midoriya. He’s always paying attention to what everyone likes. He could be the type to remember your favorites and surprise you.”

Momo, thoughtfully considering Mina’s suggestion, nodded. “That’s true. He is very observant and considerate. But what if it’s Kirishima? He’s such a romantic. It would make sense for him to shower someone with gifts.”

Kirishima, who happened to overhear the conversation, laughed and shook his head. “You guys are way off. I don’t even know what’s going on!”

“Wait.. You know who it is? Tell us, tell us!” Mina pleaded.

“Hey! I never said that I knew.” He chuckled.

Todoroki was another candidate in their discussions. “Todoroki could be a possibility too, ribbit.” Tsu suggested. “He’s a real gentleman and always seems so reserved. Maybe he’s showing his appreciation in his own way.”

Tokoyami was also brought up. “And what about Tokoyami?” Jirou pondered. “He might have a knack for quietly admiring someone.”

Despite their numerous guesses, Bakugou’s name never came up. The girls agreed that Bakugou was far too brash and temperamental to be involved in anything so romantically inclined.

One evening, Y/N was in the dorms’ kitchen, searching for her favorite drink. She had just realized that her last bottle was missing and was feeling frustrated. As she rummaged through the fridge, Bakugou walked in, holding a plastic bag.

He noticed Y/N’s agitated state and raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you all worked up?”

Y/N sighed, pulling out an empty shelf. “Someone must have taken my favorite drink. I was really looking forward to it.”

Bakugou scoffed, then reached into his plastic bag and pulled out a bottle of Y/N’s favorite drink. “Here. I just bought a few. Don’t make such a fuss.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as she took the bottle from him. “You—”

Bakugou didn’t wait for her to finish. “Whatever. I’m outta here.”

The next day, Y/N found a new gift on her desk—this time, a beautifully wrapped box of her favorite pastries. As she unwrapped it with a smile, the girls began their speculations once more.

“It’s gotta be someone who’s been paying close attention,” Mina said. “Maybe it’s still Midoriya?”

“Or Kirishima,” Momo added. “What if the other day he said it wasn’t him was an act.”

“Or Todoroki,” Kirishima laughed and suggested, rejoining the conversation. “He’s always so polite and thoughtful.”

“Or maybe Sero,” said Hagakure. “He could be into you, who knows.”

Y/N smiled to herself, thinking about Bakugou’s recent actions and his subtle but considerate gesture in the kitchen. She decided to keep her suspicions to herself, enjoying the mystery and the warmth of the gifts.

As she bit into one of the pastries, she smiled. “I might have a pretty good idea about who it is.” The mystery of the gifts was delightful, but Y/N couldn’t help but feel a special appreciation for the person who had been making her days a little brighter, even if no one else seemed to have caught on yet.

As Y/n darts her eyes over to Bakugou In the corner of the classroom. Bakugou who was silently watching from afar had a soft smile on his face as he makes eye contact with her.

#bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff #mha #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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robin-obsessed · 1 year ago

Text

WHEN I SAY MY JAW DROPPED :O

this has gotta be the one of the best Soobin plotted stories i’ve ever read, real and genuinely

i did in fact read the entire 43k words in one sitting but hey, i’m on a crazy long road trip so what better time than now? and it’s taken me too long to read this fic so now or never 💪

but this entire story was a roller coaster in the best way possible, lissie. also, using blonde Soobin was so fatal to me as a person 🧎‍♀️

cast: soobin ✗ fem.reader (ft. le sserafim's chaewon, billie's suhyeon, nct's jaemin, treasure's jihoon, txt, and other idols)

synopsis: a story of you, a girl from the forest, and the crowd you meet as you move to the city. all of them pique your curiosity, but one stood out the most. a blond boy who you’ve never met, but it’s as if you’ve known him all along. in between the familiar and the unknown you have entered, the said boy will do anything to keep you alive and by his side; for now and forevermore.

genre: magical realism, psychological thriller, slice of life, slow burn, reincarnation au, angst, a tiny bit of fluff, mature content (obsessive behavior, corruption of innocence, drug(s) consumption, explicit smut)

based on: music björk's "isobel" (1995) (genre: art pop) and literature peter pan

word count: 43344 (43.3k) (wow!)

warning(s): deaths (this is a reincarnation au), amnesia, disassociation, reality warping, recreational drugs consumed and mentioned (cigarette, alcohol, cannabis), blood, gore, murders, insects (specifically butterflies and moths), morally gray characters, toxic relationship, obsessive and possessive behaviors, stockholm syndrome, mention of missing person incident, mention of parental abuse and neglect, explicit sex, unprotected sex (safety first!), oral job (f & m receiving), handjob (f & m receiving), marking, manhandling, creampie (if there is something that i forgot, let me know!)

message from the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

it was the end of january 2023 when lissie was on her way home from her relative’s house, her parents in the passenger seat as she drives out of the residential area. the radio was playing a fm that specifically plays 80s and 90s music. a song came on. she didn’t recognize it but she knew she heard it before—a style of an artist so unique embedded in her memory. “this is definitely a björk song” she states, her mom sitting shotgun replied, “of course it is.” the song stayed in her mind until she came home, still obsessed with the newest txt comeback, especially the daydream concept photos, the peter pan-esque story, and the track “farewell neverland”. that was the spark that created this brainchild, an ambitious one, and much more abstract than ashen.

after about 4 months in the making, it is here! i struggle with writing this story because there is no clear path beginning, middle, and end when i was writing it + college is hectic. but i’m proud of how it becomes! this is also part of my milestone open collab "discover: 200" which you can check out! hope you enjoy :D p.s. (y/f/n) = your full name

soundtrack / moodboard

there is a glimmer of light in the darkness.

slowly.

it’s falling away from your embrace.

“don’t leave me.“ a voice calls. a voice that you’ve never heard. but it’s like you’ve known it ever since the start of what you are.

“i’ll find you.“ the voice faded past as fast as the blowing wind.

the light became a speck before being enveloped in the vast nothingness.

the stumbling of the floor comes to a slow and fading halt. the scenery behind the vertical glass stops. the people inside the small space stand up and grab their stuff from shelves hanging from the ceiling. any time they take a step, the floor sways. they’re heading the same way: to the exit.

a suitcase landed on the platform of the train station before its handle is being pulled up and dragged the weight above and underneath it. the suitcase moves along with its owner, weaving through the legs of the passengers that arrived at their destination. wheels trailing along the concrete floor where people have stepped on, the owner heaves in the noonday. the suitcase sat on the pavement as its owner tried to text the taxi driver they ordered from an app. multiple cars passed by before one arrives in front of the owner, their suitcase, a hand-carried bag on top of it, another one slung on their shoulder, and a backpack on their back.

one taxi stops nearby. a man steps out from the driver’s seat before looking at the pieces of luggage. the owner reads the taxi’s plate number, the same one from the order on their app.

“miss (y/n)?” he said a name.

“yes, i am,” you answered.

the man helps to put your luggage into the boot of the car, leaving you with your backpack as you enter the backseat. stickers and other paraphernalia greets you as it’s the first time you ride a taxi. the seat you’re sitting on is much softer than the one the train has, not believing it has only been hours since you left.

the solemn atmosphere makes you look at the concrete towers around you much more calmly, admiring the walls of it that are made of tinted glass. the sun’s reflection is on the layered surface of the towers as the vehicle moves. rumbles coming from cars, vans, and motorcycles along the road muffled by the thick body of the taxi. eyes never fail to widen when seeing colorful moving pictures on a large screen—advertising a product you’ve never tried.

“first time here?” the taxi driver says. you glance at the rear-view mirror, his smiling eyes meeting you underneath his salt-and-pepper hair.

“yes. i’m moving here,” you answered.

“well, good luck, young lady. moving to a city is hard.” the driver added a small comment, making you nod.

your head looks behind you to the road you are passing; recalling the land vehicles you rode to be here. the station you departed from and the house you left to go here. the house that another tenant has bought at the price that was offered, well, at what your grandma had offered to be sold in the will she gave to you.

none of your parents was there when you were little—your father left and your mother died in childbirth—your maternal grandmother took you in as there is no other living relative. yet, even with decades between both of you, she still has the energy to care for you. you recalled one time when she mentioned how you resembled her daughter back when she was young, telling you stories of your mother’s shenanigans back when she was your age and older.

“it’s as if her presence is in you.“

“i’m raising my daughter again through you.”

every time she says those words, you see her eyes glisten under the light before she holds them back and swallows them.

your grandma was always a green thumb. having a house near the crowded trees lets her have her own backyard—a gift from her husband when searching for land to build a house on. when you went home from school, you always found her in the backyard garden, watering the flowers and vegetables she grew or having tea by the terrace. your curiosity led you to see her doing her activities in the garden: cleaning weeds, putting manure for the nutrients and even letting you put seeds in the soil when you were just a wee little human—helping her plant another patch in the bed of dirt.

“you should always be grateful for nature, darling.“ you recall what she said, seeing the ends of her clothes covered in the dirt she didn’t bother to clean. “without it, our species might not even survive.“

your distinct memories of her landed when you catch grandma humming and singing in the garden as she cared for her plants. they danced, moving their stalks in rhythm with how she vocalised each note. she turns around to see you, letting out a small smile—as if they told her you’re there. she taught you the same thing and more when she realized you could do the same, seeing a sprout moving along with you as you dance around it on the emerald grass, its leaves waving in your direction following your jumbled hands.

the backdrop of the forest is always there when you help your grandma with her garden, doing the heavier labor as she picks out the seed and nurtures the plants in whatever she tries to make them happy and grow. the rustling sound of leaves by the breeze makes you lift your head, letting the moving air grazes your face. grandma has always taught you that the forests have something in them she connected with, a communion of fairies, magical animals, a pack of boys living in the woods who stayed together because they were ‘lost’—led by one of them. those were the connection she made while she read the fairytale books to you, making it as if it happens in real life. but the story of that lost boys always stuck with you as she reminded you that you might meet them someday.

“they’re nice boys, (y/n). all of them have sacrificed something to live in the forest. magic and perseverance help them continue living their lives. i can see you being friends with them.”

shivers will run down people’s spines if someone tells them there are things inside the forest where their house sits near, but you always think that it means new friends, new and interesting people to meet because you don’t have many friends—chastise from your lack of parents and social skills. the only friend you have is your grandma, but you always have an inkling that the lost boys your grandma told you are your friends, especially the leader that she called pan.

you and your grandma lived your lives in harmony before her old age gets to her health. while you were there beside her, sobbing your eyes out, you remember what she said that night.

“you will call mr. jung, the mail carrier who helps us send the flowers and vegetables we sell, and tell him to come here. he will help you with who to call and your next steps.“ you looked at the wrinkled skin on your grandma’s hand, holding yours in it with your warmth transferring to her slowly cooling touch.

“i, i don’t know what to do, grandma.“ you sobbed.

“you don’t need to worry. mr. jung will help you on how to be an adult, (y/n) my darling. i’m satisfied with my life and i’m glad you’re my granddaughter. i apologize if i’m not the best parent in your life, making you live this lifestyle with me…“ you don’t find a sorrowful person on her deathbed. instead, you catch a glowing smile on her face, a woman satisfied with her life.

“promise me, (y/n).“ you see her lift your hand onto her stomach.

“i promise, grandma.“ her hand lets go of yours before cupping your cheek, the warmth from her palm dissipating more and more.

“spread your butterfly wings and don’t stay here, darling.” your eyes widen at her words.

“live your life somewhere in the city and make her dream a reality. sell this house, sell the furniture in it so you have enough extra money along with your will. mr. jung will help you how to take care of it. your mother, your grandpa, and i will follow and guide you from the skies.“

you couldn’t rebut what she said. but you can only nod your head, letting her thumb brush away the fallen droplets from your eyes. your breathing is shaking as you felt the weight of your responsibility and your promise to her on your shoulders.

the dream of living in the city has always been a dream of your mother’s ever since she was together with your father—grandma relayed. but when he left, her footing crumbled as she tried to survive so the baby inside her live to see the world. your grandma told you the story the day of your graduation, but you didn’t take it in you that you will have to do it. even if you could, you’ll always want someone near and dear to you by your side.

“i- i promise. i’ll do that.“ you continue nodding your head as you stand up to call the man with your phone. hand trembles as you turn around to focus on the call, letting her close her eyes. the air seemed heavier as you talked to mr. jung, telling him to come to your home. your figure turns around when the heavy air lifted away, something reminds you to lift your shoulders and chest—a reminder to be confident. your grandma sleeps on the bed peacefully. stepping towards her figure and holding her wrist, you find no pulse as you let go of her for the last time.

the will she gave you read the same thing: “go to the city and live your life there.“ and you do just that. you learned lessons upon lessons about how to be an adult with mr. jung, who your grandma considers a partner that helps her with her business—a long-time friend of your family as his mother is friends with your grandma. he was the last person you recognized as you enter the station, hugging him tight as you left him, a streak of tears trailing down his cheek as the last person of your family left your little village.

“here is your apartment.” your landlady opens the door as you enter the open space, daylight coming in from the windows and balcony. boxes upon boxes litter one side of a wall of the living room, tracing the sticker with your fingers to recognize a few of them to be from your old home address.

with the will she gave you, you can afford a one-room apartment near a college campus. you liked how your bedroom splits from the living area as you want to divide your privacy if you ever have someone visit you here. she shows you the pieces of furniture she received from your orders based on recommendations by mr. jung—considering the size of the room and the look you want it to be with his and the landlady’s consultations. she is a sweet lady from the conversations you had with her on call or chat. and she can’t help but sympathize with your situation when you told her why you move here, making her help with your moving and even buying decorations for your first apartment.

“i didn’t unpack what you order or send here so that you can arrange it yourself.” the landlady spoke as you entered the bedroom. it is as spacious as you thought from the picture she gave you. a mattress rested on the floor with unassembled frames of a bed near it right by where the bathroom is supposed to be. you dropped your pieces of luggage right in front of a covered oval mirror leaning beside the wardrobe. a small smile emerges with your eyes marvelling at the unit back and forth, making the landlady giggle with joy. you walked to the living area when she holds your hand and give you a note on how to reset the keypad lock for the front door.

“take care of the apartment like how you want to take care of yourself. rent is due at the end of the month. and if you have settled, you can come to my apartment for dinner. my treat.” she said as you both walk to the front door.

“i, thank you so much,” you spoke in disbelief.

“you’re very welcome, (y/n). i hope you enjoy your stay here.” the landlady said as she waves you goodbye and left to go to the lift. your eyes scan the other five doors in the hallway of your floor before following the instructions to reset the code to your home on your own. she mentioned how all the tenants living on this floor are also young adults like you when she brought you here.

hearing the clicking of the closing door, you turn around to gaze at the space that you can call your home. one thing, in particular, catches your eye; the only thing on the balcony. the same little sprout who danced with you is now in a clay pot, white petals tilted towards the soil as if a dark cloud is resting above it. as you walk closer, it notices your presence—letting you see it straighten its stems with a little wiggle signalling to you “i’m okay!“ from the journey it went through as you shipped it here along with your other belongings.

after picking up the swiss army pocket knife from your backpack—a gift mr. jung gave before you part ways—you open the boxes one by one. pulling out the little racks that you’ve bought online but also the items you’ve shipped from back home. specks of dust are flying everywhere and even making you sneeze as you note to wipe the items one by one with a washcloth. you open a box full of story books grandma used to tell you as you put them on your dining table, fairytales that you’ve remembered from every cover of the books before the word “pan“ meets your eyesight.

you gaze at the cover as the memories are coming back to you. how you remember to look towards your forest in your black outfit, coming back from your grandma’s funeral as you sat on the back porch—the floras she took care of are wilting without her presence. a mix of determination and fear mixed into your head as you say goodbye to the boys that come into your dreams and imagination, specifically pan.

a bell ring startles you.

you glimpse towards the door before going to the small monitor that the landlady showed you, putting your pocket knife on the table. you didn’t expect her to come back faster as she seems to be busy with other errands. but when you see the grainy footage from the front door camera, you were startled at seeing people around your age. five people, to be exact.

are they the neighbors she mentioned who lived in the other five rooms?

you thought about it as you walked to the door and unlock it, letting a small crack enough for you to gaze at the five figures.

“hello, neighbor!” one girl said. she has a short hairstyle with the inner layer bleached—a black tank top decorating her figure. your eyes widen as you let the door ajar, glancing at them one by one. beside her is another girl with her long black hair straight down, and three guys with variations of hair colors. one of them stood out, having blond hair and taller stature than the other two.

“h-hi…” you stammered as the other girl lets out a small laugh.

“the landlady told us that there’ll be a new neighbor moving in on our floor a few days back, so we prepared a welcoming gift for you. she mentioned that you’re our age so i guess it’s proper for us to welcome you here since all of us are college students and buddies.” the other girl said, holding a cake that is sliced so you can see the colorful flecks inside it, as one boy who wears a red bomber jacket nod at you.

“well, thank you. i didn’t expect any welcoming gift. you can put the plate on my dining table.” your words reached their ears, leaning away as you let the people come into your messy apartment. you block the mess from their view with your body, making them stand on their own shoes after pulling them off by the door.

“i just arrived here an hour ago. so, i’m really sorry for the mess.”

“nah, don’t worry. i relate to you so much right now.” another boy said. you give a glimpse to identify the boy as the one with the green oversized t-shirt, colorful tattoos scattered on their forearms.

“crap, we haven’t introduced ourselves.” the boy in the red jacket as all of them line up.

“i’m jihoon.” the boy said before nudging the girl beside her.

“my name is suhyeon and the other one is chaewon.” the girl with long black hair continued before nudging the short-haired girl.

“i’m jaemin and this is…” the boy with the green t-shirt said to the blond one.

“i’m soobin.” he lets out a small smile before looking away. the intimidating aura coming from him makes you cower before you regain your courage and take in everybody.

“nice to meet you, everyone. i’m (y/n),” you speak as they all look towards you, even soobin turns his head back when you said your name. the other four seem to nod their heads at each other before shifting their focus to you.

“you know what? we can help you, (y/n).” jihoon spoke as he stray from his group, moving to the makeshift path you made from the floor that is full of bubble wrap by its side.

“i guess-“

“i agree. more workforce to help you around doesn’t feel wrong, isn’t it?” jaemin continues what jihoon is thinking as both boys let out a small smirk at each other.

“then after this, we can chat about you and us too, if you want. introducing one another.” suhyeon answered as you turn your body to find the four already scrambling the living room full of boxes and plastic-covered furniture, other than soobin who is standing with an unreadable expression.

“okay, but- wait.”

“guys…” you heard a booming voice beside you as you turned toward the source. soobin has his forearms on his back as he stares at the others, all of them facing him—including you discreetly.

“chaewon and suhyeon can help in (y/n)’s bedroom. jihoon, jaemin, and i can help here. i’m also guessing that you haven’t made your bed frame?” his head turns to you, making you instinctively nod your head before soobin continues, “we assemble it at the end, got it?”

the other four said a ‘yes’ as you turn to soobin, stunned. soobin seems to notice as you catch him taking a peek from the corner of his eye.

you walked to your bedroom following the two girls as they stood around your luggage. it feels weird to know someone so easily tells others to do things. but you realize if it’s not you, the owner, how will they arrange your stuff in your apartment?

“well, i’m thinking of putting the clothes in this suitcase into this wardrobe, then the shirt and pants on the shelves inside.” with that comment from you, all of you get to work.

the two girls nod their head from your guidance, opening the suitcase and bags of clothes you brought as you glimpse outside the room to view the boys opening the boxes with anything that they could of. you wanted to help your new acquaintances, but when you turn to grab your pocket knife off the table, you were met with an empty one. the search for red knife goes one by one, lifting the leftover bubble wrap and empty boxes then glancing at both jihoon and jaemin’s hands who are helping you unpack your orders—assemble if needed. lastly, you land your eyes on the blond boy’s, the blade folded as he grips it in his palm. you tried to approach him, finding his head drooped while looking at his other hand. the same fairy tale book you saw is now in his grasp: the one with the lost boys and pan.

though you can’t see how he looks at it, his vision lingers there—a beat too long—before he shook his head and turn to the side, letting him glance at you from the corner of his eyes. you give a brief tight-lip smile before you look at your pocket knife in his hand, the one that he holds so tight.

“i’ll do the box opening. you can do the arranging.” his voice, soobin’s, said as he give the book to you before pulling away and following what the other boys do, letting you stand there, collecting your thoughts before you arrange the stuff you’re putting in your new home.

the sky has moved from a light blue to an orange as you all rested in your new living room. empty boxes stacked near the entrance and dust still gathered on the floor as you told them you’re alright to sweep it by yourself. the toolbox that jihoon brought from his room saved the assembling part of the bed frame as he sat near suhyeon. chaewon lets out a victorious cheer as she rests her head on the cushion near where jaemin is sitting. you and soobin sit side by side on the floor as you held back a wide smile whilst looking at the tidy room, imagining any other decorations to be added if you have the money and time, and certainly a friend for your little flower on the balcony.

“i-“ you let out a small giggle. “i can’t thank any of you enough.” your heart palpates as you heard the chorus that came from the others.

“you’re welcome, (y/n). it’s the least we can do for our new neighbor.” chaewon reaches for your hand, giving it a small tug.

“not the least, if i consider it. you’ve all done so much yet i don’t know enough about any of you.” you chuckled, staring at the rest of them and how you were the only one out of place in terms of fashion and style. you’ve noticed how each of them are stylish in their own way, urban streetwear being the main look that you’ve connected between all five of them—making you feel left out once again in your hand-me-down overalls and shirts. the sense being left out coming back after a long time it has disappeared since the day of your graduation.

“well, now that we’re done.” suhyeon stands up and grabs the fruitcake she brought and nudges it to you. “we can get to know each other more.”

you give a small gaze at the cake and tea spoon right beside it before retrieving it from her. “okay.” you replied.

“i don’t know if mrs. bae is kidding or not, but you are around our age, right?” jaemin asked. you chuckled as you cut the fruitcake.

“i am 21. all of you are too?” you said, knowing deep down what they will mention after it.

“yeah. we are!” chaewon enthusiastically said, earning a head shake from jaemin as she continues, “oh, did you move here to go to college here? you’ve transferred your credits, right?”

“i-“ you hold on to the plate, hand on the spoon as you scrape the cake into it. “i don’t go to college.” your shoulder shrugs down as the rowdy atmosphere is now unnaturally quiet, making you able to make out the distant sound of engines running down the road from fathoms below the floor you are in.

“i couldn’t afford college. i move to this area cause i find it the cheapest and i could blend in, you know.” you give a taste of the fruitcake, letting the sweetness melt onto your tongue as if fairy dust was sprinkled on it—reminding you to one of your fairytales where the fairies eat cake like what you’ve described. it tastes like something your grandma bakes, letting the memories simmer in your thoughts that you hope none of the people in front of you notices how the mix of emotions you’re feeling makes your eyes tear up.

“hey…” jihoon leans forward from his seating posture. “you don’t have to be ashamed for not going to college…”

you nodded your head, remembering your grandma’s message on how college doesn’t equate to success. but, when you found out you were the only graduate of your high school year to not leave the small town for college, you were devastated. you wanted to be equal with your peers, though not in a friendship sense. but the resources you have couldn’t afford it and you don’t know if you can repay a loan if you take one out. so you gave it up and let yourself be until grandma told you to live here.

“thank you. i risk everything to be here. i don’t have a safety net until i got a job and i haven’t applied to anything.” you then continue to eat, wallowing with yourself as you realized how unprepared you are. how you want to punch your brain for not thinking of any plans once you came here. sporadic is a word that can be defined for you, but grandma always reminds you that life is an adventure, no matter how planned or unplanned it is.

“wait.” you heard suhyeon exclaimed. “speaking of a job, all of us are working at the same place. and they overloaded us with customers that we may open a position up to help and cover more.” she added, making your eyebrows raise.

“you do?”

“yeah, soobin knows, right? we need more people?” suhyeon asked the boy beside you.

“uh yeah, but i don’t think that is (y/n)’s cup of tea.” soobin replied. you tilted your head towards him, eyebrows furrowed.

“why? where do you all work?”

“it’s a pub near here called neverland.” jihoon answered.

you’ve never seen yourself working at a pub. you don’t even recognize what job prospect is available here in the city because you only ever see yourself as either a gardener or a florist—most of the time you spend is with the floras in your house. but you guess it’s much better than working somewhere unsafe and you could use the cooking skills you learned back when you replace your grandma to care for your household’s everyday meals. you desperately need money and grandma asked you to spread your wings—try new experiences—and it’ll be much better if you work with people you know rather than complete strangers.

“i could work there.” you said, “but one of you has to teach me how to mix the drinks if i’m being put at the bar…”

“of course, we will.” chaewon said, a warm smile on her face as the light outside shone on her. the dark has shown up as they pushed the light of the day away. one by one, all of you looking outside the window to figure out the time that has passed. “i guess it’s our time to go, right, guys?” she added.

the chorus of agreement sounds as all of you stand up and you brought them to your front door. you replied to their farewells as they scurried one by one in the hallway, doing whatever they planned to do, leaving you alone with the blond boy.

“i guess i’ll get going?” he asked as he turned to face you, his figure leaning against your doorframe.

“yeah, i have to sweep the floor and clean myself up because the landlady asked me to join her for dinner.” you lick your dry lips. “it’s, it’s been a long day for me.” you exhaled.

“you definitely deserve a rest,” soobin looks down at the floor, “and can i ask for your number?”

“m-my number??”

“yes, for the job and for joining our group chat. we love for you to be there.” soobin replied. your mind recalibrated from thinking outside of the realm. he wants you to join in as a friend, not whatever imagination that shows up.

“yes, yes, definitely.” you grab soobin’s phone and insert your number, giving yourself a small “test” message as you catch a chime coming from your phone deep inside the living area. when you looked up to give the phone, you catch how soobin nips his bottom lip. a look of something radiating in his eyes: warm and sweet. a slight shine that you’d seen before. but you shook your head as a sting suddenly surges in your head.

“you okay?” soobin asked, noticing how you grimaced even though you tried to not show it if possible.

“i’m fine. sorry for concerning you.” soobin shook his head, letting out a smile as you notice how dimples form on his cheeks. he stepped backwards as you step closer to hold your door open. you examine the five other doors on your floor and how each of them is where the friends you made today live. soobin walks to the door right next to yours as he punches the code into his keypad.

“see you soon enough, soobin.” you peeked behind the small space of the ajar door of your new apartment as soobin stepped in and turn around to close his door, giving one last glance at you.

“it’s good to see you, darling.”

the door close as your mind is stuck on the last word he said. a word you haven’t heard in a long time from a voice you’ve newly identified, yet you get a recollection that you’ve heard that same voice before.

closing the door of your apartment, you rush to go to the balcony and fling yourself on the railing that splits you from the outside world. your heart thumps as you collect yourself, dropping yourself to your knees as you breathe the open air. eyes staring at the buildings littering your view and one open space of shaded green that is the campus where your new friends go to.

you know you’ve listened to that voice before, but every time you tried to dig deeper, the sting comes back.

resting yourself down on the floor as you leaned your back against the railing, your eyes landing on the pot with a flower you’ve known all its life wilted as if it recognizes the sentiments you’re feeling. you let out a small smile as you stick your hand out, smoothing its petals to soothe it from a distance, seeing how your fingertips turn green just like your grandma’s.

your fingers sway in the air as the flower and leaves follow you. another leaf grows as you trace it from a stem and two shadows come into your vision. a butterfly comes and rests on your flower, but there is also a moth sitting by the side of the pot.

the way their wings contrast the shade coming from the darkening sky behind you, you let out a small smile as you watch them together. but as you stare at them closer, your head spins as it gets heavier. shaking it away, you step inside your apartment and brought yourself to clean up after a long, tiring, yet exciting day.

“i’ve never seen a butterfly and moth at the same time, you know?” your spoken words fly into the vast space. the bustling sound of moving leaves enters your ear, masking the waves of the ocean behind it away.

you gape at the beautiful butterfly and moth pairing under the faded illumination of the purple and orange sky—letting the day go by once again in this place. all the magical things that you’ve seen mesmerized you, making you think back on how you are here in the first place. the sensation of nature that you haven’t felt in a long while, associating it with the freedom you had without the weight of expectations.

“you could see more of this island, darling…” a warm touch rests on your shoulder and the ends of your flowy dress graze your calves. turning your body around, you gaze at the being that brought you here. his blond hair all over the place, the outer garment he wore stretches down until his covered legs, leaving the middle of his torso bare as you view how his skin glistens in the sunlight.

“if, you stayed with me here, in neverland, with the boys too.” one of his hands grazes the apple of your cheek with his knuckles. a confident gaze in his eyes with doubts speckling in. the ground crunches under both of you from the dead leaves he stood on as he steps closer.

“pan, you know i can’t stay, right?” you reminded him as he answered with a small nod that is so short and fast, you almost didn’t notice it if you hadn’t focused on him.

you can’t count how long time has gone for you back in your home, but it has been three days since you arrived in neverland. on that day when pan arrived, you were struggling to do your homework. you were mad at yourself to succumb to your adolescent life. the life you now realized is full of limbos as you can’t seem to define yourself. how your parents expected you to be proper and poise and teachers expect you to do well in your studies.

all you wanted to do was to play as you used to after seeing your younger siblings play with their friends by the street while you have to do your chores—haven’t experienced that euphoria when you are forced to face adulthood. you miss seeing stains on your dress from playing at the park where fancy-looking people also enjoy themselves, trailing down a path full of beds of flowers as you grazed your fingertips against their petals, feeling them coil to the touch. how only on this island that you can touch them again and they reciprocate by wrapping their petals around your fingertips; missing you, as if they learn about you from the plants you sightsee back home.

you wish you didn’t grow up.

it sticks into your mind as long as you remember it by the time you’ve entered secondary education. when the thought of it showed up as you detect the ink dried out from your quill—blotches of them leaving a stain on the paper you were supposed to collect to your teacher, that was when pan arrive. the boy who gave you the choice to escape your routine.

“you can stay young with us, darling,” he spoke the words that has formed in your mind to combat the specific sentence showing in your head. the corner of his mouth slightly raised as the mischievous yet sweet small smile he shows when he sets down at your bedroom door appears once again. you can’t help to be enamored by it.

pan is the most enchanting boy you’ve ever seen, much more than what the girls at your school called handsome. he is a tad bit shy but when the boys pry him to open up to you, he is the sweetest, even sweeter than your younger siblings—which you can’t believe as they are as sweet as honey. yet, he also has a sense of dauntlessness in a way, especially facing the pirates and other beings you’ve met days before as he travels with you throughout the island.

“but i can’t let go of my family either, pan,” you respond, eyes glancing at the sky above as if you can look at their phantoms back home. it is how you came here anyway, recalling caressing the cloud as the magic dust he brought levitated you to bring you here.

“aren’t they worried about me?” you sighed, speaking your mind before closing it, bracing for the answer from him.

“you know they aren’t.” you clenched your eyes. “they have not been ever since your younger brother was born.” pan told you the painful truth that is lodged into your consciousness.

you never wanted to be the oldest child in a patrilineal world. the consequences of the period you lived in where men are seen to be the wisest, even if they have older sisters. you love your siblings. you do. but you wished you were an only child so that your parents won’t set you aside.

you have told none of that information to him.

“how’d you know that?” you open your eyes and glance toward him. pan lets out a knowing smirk, eyes glinting at how you’ve caught something that he didn’t notice. it impresses him how intelligent and careful you are.

“i’ve tried to see if there are people who are similar to me, similar to the boys too. people who just want to escape the world and stay in peace, even if we have pirates such as hook who barges in.” he chuckles before continuing. “then i come across you and i saw myself in you. how you wanted more than the world had to offer to you now. when you live in that city block with your pot of flowers beside the windowsill, you’ve always looked out as if adventures are waiting for you to start it.”

and adventures did indeed start when you came here to neverland. you remembered seeing a moth resting on one of your flowers as pan introduces himself to you, witnessing you floating in your room before he grabs your hand and take you away. other than the pirates you encounter—the ink-covered captain hook and his mates, you recalled how the boys helped you save yourself from a siren’s song when you play by the beach. as they describe it to you that very night, they’re holding your body back and put rolled-up leaves to plug your ears, muffling its melody as you slowly gain your consciousness back. pan got so furious that he even encounter the siren itself, similar to what he did to the captain of the pirates. he lets you sleep with your head on his shoulder by the campfire—the only one that stays awake as his other boys are also asleep—warming you up after having 2/3 of your body submerged in the wavy ocean as you follow the siren’s melody.

you knew there were unrecognizable auras as he stares at you when you regain your consciousness, hands cupping your face as your trance falls away similar to the water by the beach, only seeing him in your sight as it clears out. your muffled hearing still helps you listen to the ocean waves as he checks all over your body for any injury you could’ve got. his eyebrows furrowed and creases formed on his forehead before you soothe him with your palm behind his back and on his shoulder blade, letting him hug you to calm him down; while he wraps you tight in his arms.

“i used to live in your world too, but circumstances in my household left me no choice but to escape. that’s how i find the boys, how we came to neverland, and how i got this magic after volunteering myself as the leader.” he stares at you with known sadness in his eyes. one part of the look he gave you is the same one as when he saved you from the pirates and the siren before the flame of anger seems to take their place as he faces them on behalf of you.

“you wanted to save me, then?” you questioned him.

“i don’t want you to be alone. you will not be when you have us. when you have me, darling.” he replies, blinking away that sadness as that unrecognizable gaze from the rescue and campfire yesterday came back. the shattered light coming from above the leaves you’re under shines on pan in the best way possible. his eyes look more alive because of it, while a few of them land on his cheeks and the area where you can catch his dimples forming.

you nodded your head, “i understand now from what you said earlier.” your hands rested on his forearm as he catches yours in his.

“nobody understands me as you do. it’s a terrifying choice for me to take, pan. but…” you wet your lip as you paused.

“i’ll stay. but you also have to let me visit them if i can.” you propose to him, to which he replied with a wide smile that makes his dimples show up. he tugs you closer to him and you felt his arms around your back, making your head fall onto his shoulder. his warmth against your skin makes your heart swell, how it can only be heightened if you’re hugging each other skin on skin. the tightness of the grip lessens as he pulls back from you but then pushes his head near yours, his forehead touching yours when you realized something plump is on your lips. his lips.

your body froze when he leans back, licking his own lips as you see his eyes looking down at your face. your cheeks started to heat up as you try your best to glance at him—eyelids fluttering—before the lights on his face faded. turning your head, you see the slowly descending sol touch the ocean surface.

“i’ll promise to take care of you, darling.” he declares, a small smile on his face. you lean your figure forward, making you have to tilt your head back so you can catch his eyes.

“it’s (y/n). my name is (y/n).” you correct him, a small smile embracing your appearance as he follows. you never told him your name as he also calls you darling, akin to how your mother called you. if you want to stay with him, surely you can trust him with your name, correct?

“you know, my name isn’t actually ‘pan’”. his reply making your eyebrows rose. pan always introduces himself as pan. even the boys call him pan every time they’re with you. but his story of staying in your world catches your attention once again. yes, his name is different compared to the boys, yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun, and kai. it is as if pan is a title of some sort, a title given to a person who will take care of neverland and balance them. you’ve heard that name before from your world, maybe even read it in a book you’ve read, but you forgot which one is it and what it means.

his hands embrace both of your cheeks as he told you something sacred, only for you and the other lost boys.

“my name is soobin.”

“hey, (y/n)!”

you shake your head when someone calls your name. in front of you is a silver long table mirroring a distorted reflection of you wearing your apron and uniform for work. your eyes cast towards the source to see jihoon at the other side of the counter where the bar is, pushing his hand that is holding a piece of paper.

“order for table 6,” he told as you step towards the divider, scanning in the hand-written order for the table—you recognize is jaemin’s handwriting—and turning around when you listened to the water running and dropping into the sink as it pierces the mostly quiet room. the blond boy lets it run as he cleans a few of his kitchen utensils whilst he shifts to look at you.

“divide and conquer, (y/n)?” soobin stated which you nod, letting the note slide into his vicinity as he scans it.

“i’ll do club sandwich,” you tell him as you heard clinking coming from the bar jihoon is tending.

after the night that soobin left your unit, you received a notification from a group that is named “the lost children“, recognizing the names of your five neighbors in the member’s list. they gave you the name of the manager and co-owner of the pub, jungkook—or, as the others like to call him “kook”—to you. you expected little when you texted the manager, thinking he’ll have a much more crowded pool of candidates that are waiting to get a job too since it is one of the more popular hot spots near the campus. that’s when he called you in a few hours after you reached out and interview you the next day, meeting the tattoo-covered man with his menacing piercings resembling the appearance of pirates that your grandma has described in the fairytales you’ve remembered. he tests you on your cooking skills and many more before he then hired you on the same day, especially interested in you joining when you said you can work full time.

“our pub is full of part-timers for a reason. but we need a full-timer who can be versatile as well. help the kitchen, tend the bar, facing the customer. though your skills are rough, polish them enough and you can work here effectively.” kook said as you nodded, secretly cowering from his enormous presence. indeed, he also gave you more trust because of your scheduling, holding onto the list of ingredients and ledgers full of business numbers that you have learned to identify yourself.

students from the near campus come and do their shifts, most of them are around your age like felix, aeri, lia, and jongho. but in night shifts, your friends are your saviors. ever since you’re here with them, you’ve been following their guide on the art of serving food and beverages, rotating each of your position so you could try it all and gain every information you could get. but especially in night shifts, you’ve noticed how you—coincidentally—have been with soobin most of the time. either in kitchen staff, bar staff, or servers.

and the boy, well, he reciprocated it as if it was a pleasure for him to be with you most of the time. as if he planned this with jungkook or mingyu, the other co-owner and kook’s second in command, to put both of you together.

with a few gazes at him, your headache also comes back from time to time, bracing yourself against the nearest surface if the dice rolls and lands on the chance it happens. and each time it came, soobin is the one mostly on your side. the throbbing pain you suffered against your head piercing even your skull before his touch on your shoulders soothes you down. but now, more and more are forming as you rather waited at the kitchen staff, where only a few heads can notice than let the customer see how “unwell” you are. even with the rotation of staff, soobin is the one that stayed with you the most, with suhyeon and jaemin having a few rotations with you too.

each time, more things trigger you. seeing jihoon and his skills with his tools, seeing jaemin slouching down with a book in his hand, seeing chaewon and suhyeon giggling with each other, and even kook and his second-in-command with his hands wrapped in front of his torso. it’s like experiencing déjà vu from time to time. but you are being bombarded by them one by one. it doesn’t even feel like one to you anymore. yet, you struggle to find the right words to describe it. the memories that are being brought up come from within you, but whose memory is it from, and when did they burn them into your mind?

many nights have gone since you moved. you’ve decorated your apartment much to your liking and much more with your friends’ contributions. a lava lamp rests on the coffee table—bought by jaemin and chaewon, suhyeon gives you a scrapbook that you filled with journals and small doodles, jihoon gives you a set of kitchen utensils, and soobin gave you a music box that plays a song with a mermaid? siren? perched on top of a boulder, singing a song to you. it’s so familiar like you’ve heard the song being blown with the wind before, entrancing you before your conscience falls back.

your plants also react to your joy and pain in ways that you’ve never seen before. sprout now having friends of its own—though not much as the plants back then. they decorate the balcony of your apartment as if it’s a sanctuary that reminds you of your old house, grandma’s garden, and the forest as its background. vines grow even from the cracks of the wall as you try your best to accommodate every flora that grows in your small area. but you also see dead leaves falling onto the soil as time only moves forwards. yet even that, your green thumb helps to heal them, telling them they’re amazing as you visibly look at them repairing themselves from your energy.

in those many nights too, you’ve tried to join in on the activities your new friends do. walking around the night, eating street food in a busy neighborhood, looking at the rows of racks at thrift shops that are cheap enough for your budget, and many more. you stand at the back with soobin most of the time, trying to blend in with his street-style ensemble, reluctant to join your friends who are openly having fun. yet even being your usually quiet self, you still have fun and try to open up more.

as time goes on, you learned the dynamic of the group much more. sure, all of them are mature in their own ways, but soobin gives off a sense of dominance within the group, not just when you hang out but also when you all are working. his domineering demeanor resembles a father figure, something you experience little in real life but can also pinpoint from the many stories that you’ve learned and faded memories that have shown up.

your relationship with the others is as smooth as a sail, but with soobin? you sensed something unusual. the air around both of you is heavier than it is. how his round eyes are cold as you can feel them biting your skin. how his blond hair stands out so much it pulls out a vivid memory of yours—like you’ve seen it in an illustration before. a cartoon, maybe. all of them becoming blurry to you.

but, you also see something with soobin when you hang out with him and your friends. how he laughs with them freely. how he openly talks to them about his struggles with his homework—you learned all of their majors and found out that soobin is a literature major. how he blends in well with the thrown teases within the group, including a few thrown to you, which you tried to come back as good as they are. yet you could detect that shield he puts on whenever he nears you. it’s as if there is danger for him when he is with you, or danger for you when you are with him.

the door of the walk-in fridge needed both of your hands to be pulled, the gushing cold air coming out into the kitchen as you step inside. produces like vegetables, fruit, and meat stacked on shelves. there are the ones you have cooked with before but also ones that you are still learning to cook based on the recipe book kook gave to you; complete with instructions on how to cook it. the recipe of the club sandwich is nudged into your memories—a staple food that many came here to consume—as you pull out the fresh ingredients that you needed. each step of your movement echoes in the medium-sized room, yet it is masked by the hum of the cooling fans above, not letting you pick up anything or anyone stepping closer to you.

“hey.” you flinched from the voice as you shift to meet soobin’s towering figure beside the shorter rack—hugging your ingredients close to your chest. soobin’s eyebrows raised as he looks at how you huff and puff to let the shock out of your systems.

“soobin, don’t scare me like that.” you nudge him with your elbow as you heard his giggles before returning to scan the shelves for any missing produce you might not have grabbed.

“you know what i see this walk-in fridge like?” soobin hums as you turn to watch him with a cut of beef on his, waiting for his answer.

“a cave by the ocean.”

your eyes stayed on his figure as he picked up the ones he needed effortlessly with his long limbs, “the cold air is like the wind blowing from the sea. the ocean has an inlet into the cave that is right below a small hole in the ceiling, letting the sunshine in and reflect the blue on the walls of the cave, like how the white light of this room creates a sort of blue tint to the metal walls.” soobin gazes towards you, “anyone that likes the beach would love to stay there.”

“have you been to one?” you turn to face him, the door of the fridge at the wall across from you, eyeing him curiously.

“i have. you also, right?”

your body stiffens from his words as unidentified memories swirl up once again. closing your eyes to shake it off, you find yourself in that cave instead, overlooking a beach that stays halfway into the mouth of a wide cave. the walls reflecting the rippling water as you gaze up to find a hole that lets in a ray of sunshine. it’s like an illustration. an illustration that you’ve seen before in the fairytale book you’ve read where you finally remembered where it is from. pan.

you thought your ears were deceiving you as you didn’t mean to catch the noises in the memory. but your ears picked up the sound of laughing as you turn around to find people sitting by an unlit campfire. five figures all wearing battered clothes with ripped fabrics on their top or by their calf-covered pants. stepping closer, you felt the softness underneath you as you stare down to see yourself bare-footed on the sand and the white skirt of a dress sticking to your calves from the blowing wind.

it felt real. too real.

“darling!“ someone calls as you lift your head, seeing one of them turn head towards you. the face is fuzzy but you note how bright their hair is.

blond.

darling.

“darling.” you close your eyes and shake your head as you open to see soobin now right in front of you. the ingredients he held now gone, replacing it with your shoulders on each of his palms. his eyes in line with yours, close enough that you can look at the creases on the outer corners on both, how his bottom lip slightly jutted out—creating a discreet pout. his irises move to watch all around your face, not landing on your sight at all. you receive a light rhythmic brush on the sleeve of your upper arms, letting your breath follow the rhythm that you captured.

“fuck…” he looks down. you never heard him curse before in the weeks you have moved here, and that’s with how you, he, and the others almost hang out every night outside of your work hours. but, by the looks of it, he didn’t say it as a usual exasperation. how soobin’s face twitches to different emotions in microscopic ways amazed you. but it creates something heavy in your heart as well. soobin is very much concerned about you if he is feeling this way. his head turns away, facing the shelves nearest to you both while trailing his eyes down the ingredients inside. that’s when you picked up his mumbles, catching a few cut parts of the sentences that he spoke in rapid fire.

“- that’s too far.”

“shouldn’t push too hard.”

“she’s in pain again.”

“i knew she remember.”

“almost there.”

“soobin!” your call reaches his consciousness as you stare into his eyes, reflecting the expression he gave to you before right back to him. his rambling’s sudden stop is what you predicted as his wide eyes stare towards you. how panicky he seems like he knew what you’ve experienced is coming before you do. putting down the ingredients you held on the shelf, you turned towards him.

“i’m okay…” soobin hears you sound as you soothe him down more than when he soothes you, something that seems so natural to you even though you never had this kind of interaction with him. his figure relaxes from every caress you give. your hand rubs onto his upper arm as you sense goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of his sleeves. the hum of the walk-in fridge filled your hearing sense as you stare at his face. his tousled blond hair disarray as you trail your eyes down his apron-covered front.

a second too long. feels like millennia of knowledge injecting into you who you don’t know how to decipher.

retracting your fingers back to your own figure, you immediately pick up the ingredients and retreat toward the warm doorway. soobin not following you as you let him collect his thoughts while you quickly prepare the ingredients.

“customers are waiting, soobin,” you said to him as loud as you can from behind the counter.

“coming,” he replies as you went back to work, shaking your head from the weird yet recognizable look in the boy’s eyes.

hours pass as you both do your job, the sun already set from the glimmer of light you can see through the hole between the kitchen and the dining area. suhyeon greets you with a small smirk as you both stand by the employee’s locker room. her hand holding onto your shoulder as she asked, “you’re coming right? it’s not that often that kook has to close the pub early for the match in a few days.”

“yeah, i heard from him we could work until the latest of nights especially if your college won.”

kook’s strategy to cut your work hour for today in preparation is admirable to others. his lip and eyebrow piercings shining under the light from the ceiling as he told all six of you so. but you still can’t believe what the others said about him. how they describe him as a manipulative boss that is slowly lowering the supply cost the pub needs and the reason the ingredients are sometimes not enough. you thought he might be saving for something, but even with your limited business knowledge and scanning the sheets full of numbers he trusted to you, it shouldn’t have to cut the cost of supplies. right?

every time you checked the ingredients and brewery, you count how the quantity has dwindled more. you wanted to check on it with mingyu, but you remember he said “just trust him” every time you tried.

other than that, whispers fly between the part-time workers about how kook is a gambling addict and womanizer—even hitting up on lia at some point. you want to give the benefit of the doubt, but you remembered mr. jung’s advice to you in one of your adulting lessons that are always sticking in your mind.

“play hard to get with your trust. not everyone is as trusting and reliable as your grandma.”

a hand wraps around your shoulders as you see chaewon letting out a cheeky smile, “what took you both so long? the boys are waiting.”

you heard the chain strap from her bag clinking against her side of the body. your eyes glance between her, yours, and suhyeon’s outfit. how you’ve blended in with all of them with your own style too. the color is still your signature earthy tone, but you are confident enough to wear something a little tighter and expose more skin but with a baggy outer that they suggested to you as you all thrift shopped. the black tank top you’re wearing sticks to your torso and you felt the lightweight earthy green coat covering you from the chilly night air as you all walk out to the empty area full of dining chairs stacked on top of the table.

the boys are waiting behind the glass windows when you can catch the usual white stick already in between jaemin’s lips; clouds of smoke flowing out of him. suhyeon lets you and chaewon out as the boys turn towards you, jihoon showing an annoyed voice as he nags on why it takes so long for the three of you. your vision glance at soobin, who is in a black ensemble, sweater, jean pants, and a black beanie that accentuates his blond hair. a tight smile formed on his face as he saw you, letting you reply with your own before chaewon and suhyeon pulled you to be by their side.

your eyes still haven’t adjusted to the neon lights and signs that the city has offered to you even with the days you’ve settled here. the many heads you can’t even count by the street, especially the ones full of shops and restaurants. faces you pass by seemingly familiar in ways that you might see them or feel their presence, mindlessly live their lives that you are curious with too. the lights shining in blue, white, and pink illuminate all of your friends’ dark attires as you all approach a street that is famous for its restaurants. jaemin leading all of you into one that is full of people, the crackling sound of the grills filling your ear as you smelt the smoky aroma before seeing the rising gray cloud.

the six of you sitting face to face, three on each side with suhyeon and chaewon not wanting to let you go. jihoon orders what all of you want as jaemin and soobin talk about something you can’t understand because of how rowdy the place is. you like to make homemade food, but with your work schedule, you don’t have time for dinner, so you went out a lot and eat the cheap street food that is offered on your way back. you still like to read the recipe book you inherit from grandma and want to cook each of them up. even using the fruits and vegetables that you grew yourself like what grandma has someday in the future. but you don’t feel right to exploit your savings that way, so you try to keep it for yourself, mostly.

“how many bottles do we want?” jihoon’s voice heard.

“soju?” chaewon asked. “maybe three for now. different flavors. get the original one.”

your eyes trail to chaewon, enlarged as you lean into her ear. “i never tried alcohol before.”

“never?!” she turns as you nod your head. the three boys seem to notice chaewon’s exclaim as suhyeon leans in.

“you should remember, chae. she’s literally an independent woman who moves to the city for the first time. i don’t expect her to drink any kind of alcohol,” the long-haired girl said as you watch jihoon lean in.

“yeah. not only that, we can help guide her to her first time drinking,” he said, weirdly enthusiastically that jaemin who sits two seats away has to lean in and rebut his friend.

“wait, (y/n). do you actually plan to drink?” the four turn their heads to you as your eyes move between them before landing on soobin’s who sits across from you. something nudges your shoe-covered foot as you lean down to see soobin’s shoe on yours, smoothing it down slowly as you face all of them. grandma’s phrase rings in your mind once again.

“i’ll try. maybe just one glass. i don’t know what will happen but i’m with you all and i trust you. so, why not?” you replied as chaewon shook your body as you all waited for the food you order.

by the time the food arrived, you helped grill the barbeque as they trust you to cook it well—a perk of being placed in the kitchen most of the time. when you met the green bottles full of alcohol, you see jihoon picking up one bottle and giving them to suhyeon as each of you passes the small glass that came with it. hearing the small crack, you view suhyeon with the bottle and cap’s seal broken, waiting to be opened and drunk.

“this is the original flavor. it’s gonna taste like water but bitter and you’re gonna feel something hot after drinking it in your stomach. that’s the alcohol.” you listened. then chaewon gave you the small glass which you hold carefully as suhyeon helps pour it. raising your glass that is nearly full of liquid, you put it against the light beside the cooker hood, analyzing how clear it is. it does look like water, you thought as you see suhyeon pouring the soju into her own glass; the others holding onto their own filled glasses.

“we can’t let the meat too overcooked. let’s do a toast.” jihoon says as chaewon giggles beside you. “soob, give ‘em”

“ahh okay…” soobin said as you watch him smile, his dimples appearing on his cheeks. “i don’t know what i’m thinking about letting (y/n) be part of us, the lost children. but i’m glad to see her with us now. we listened to your stories as well as we share ours, though you heard more of the other than mine—but i listen and i care. we all are glad to be your friends, (y/n). and fuck the people back in your hometown for not seeing you that way.”

“hear, hear,” suhyeon exclaimed beside you, yet you continue to gaze at soobin as he continues.

“let’s give a toast to our new friend, (y/n), and for her new life here with us.”

“cheers!!!” the words bouncing from one person to another as you follow, clinking your glass with the others as they throw their heads back and drink the liquid in one try. your glass meets soobin’s last, pursing your lips as you stare at the object in your hand before returning to him.

“slowly, darling,” he mumbled even from across the table as soobin drinks his shot before putting the glass on the table. there’s a sound of a knock on the wooden table from his glass before he returns to the tongs he used as you both cooked with the grill.

letting the rim of the glass close to your lips, you lean the glass as you get the taste of alcohol. the liquid is so familiar yet it also isn’t as it tasted weird on your taste buds. you familiarize the bitterness that suhyeon mentioned but didn’t expect the subtle sweetness in the aftertaste—the glass was half empty. you notice all of them expecting your reaction before your mind said, screw it, and down the other half down. the soju arrived cold at the table so it refreshed your esophagus before you put the glass down on the table before you. your face grimacing from the weird taste as you look at jihoon’s concerned expression.

“it’s… okay. i’ll try the other two flavors too but only one shot,” you comment as you caught the four loudly sigh. you continue to get your own tongs and help soobin cook, who is staring at you with an unreadable expression.

for you, it was another two shots of two different flavors of soju. but for the others, they order two other bottles. even with that, you can perceive how tipsy you’ve become, almost similar to when you’re lacking sleep. but you were awake enough to see all of your friends unhinged, seeing their bodies wobbling and drunkness overcoming them. yet, when you look at soobin, he’s not like the others. sure, he drank more shots than you, but you notice that he never pours his own drinks again after a while as the others scramble around to get the green bottles until they’re empty.

after putting the food in your stomach, you feel the fullness from eating but the tipsiness from the alcohol as you let your eyes wander. glancing at soobin, you see him giggle, watching the way suhyeon and chaewon are leaning their head against your shoulders.

“we should end the night, shouldn’t we?” jaemin mumbles as jihoon picks up his belongings, not saying anything before soobin lets out a nod.

the other four leans near your body as soobin pays for the food before all of you scurry away into the streets. the walk to your apartment building comes in variations of volume—from the crowded street full of people—before it slowly fades away as you all walk towards the residential areas.

the other four are at the front of the group as you and soobin stay behind, giggling to yourself as you see them doing their usual shenanigans, but more hyper and chaotic than ever before. you knew with your mostly sober mind, you’ll probably be the one to help them if you could. but you are glad soobin is here without you, not letting you wallow in your thoughts about what is happening right this instance, what happened in the pub, and what happened between the two of you: senses are more hyperaware than ever.

you always thought that the soobin you met—a colder and intimidating guy—was really him. but at the barbeque restaurant, you now recognize that it is a mask. and it’s slipping more and more as he drinks. soobin becomes a bit more talkative with you under the influence of alcohol. usually, he only does small talk with you and it’s jarring to hear that compare to his dynamic with the rest of the group. though you both just met the day you move, you always knew that there might be something more than a cold and calculated demeanor. but why is he hiding it from you out of all people?

“it feels like we’re playing parents here and they’re our children.” soobin exclaimed as you walk behind your friends, facing your head to him.

“we cook for them. we pay for them. we take care of their drunken selves.” he continues then faces you, letting his words fade into the night.

“they’re not that childish. but when you think of it… yeah. why is it always us, though? i, i know they trust you and you seem to know how capable you are. but why me too?” you let out a small chuckle as you hear jaemin’s waves of laughter that you never caught before filling the air from suhyeon tickling him. the background slowly moves as you identify the tower that all six of you live in. the shining dots on the floor each has a tenant inside, living life the way they do.

“i mean you are the most responsible out of all of us. maybe that’s why many young adults go to college.” he trails off as he speeds forward. you turn your head to the front to see your friends already meters away as you stride as fast as you can to keep up with soobin.

“what is that supposed to mean, soobin?” his figure stops when both of you are closer to them and the tower.

“it’s…” you see him nibble his lips before continuing. “young adults attend college—which is technically a school that is not mandatory—because they want to stay young. making friends again and doing club activities. it’s what a child learns to do in school.” soobin turns to you, “they don’t want to realize they’ve grown up.”

eyebrows furrowed, you continued the step toward your other friends before looking behind you. “and how’s that relate to me being responsible?”

“you moving here on your own with no preparation other than your savings and the roof to live under. you knew you had the skill and level of responsibility to take care of yourself in a new environment if you are ready enough.” soobin’s eyes cast down, and he blinks rapidly, processing each word that he spoke to you.

“you knew you had to grow up.”

soobin pokes his tongue to his cheek as he follows you and you walk to your tower. your hands following his and put it in your coat pocket to not let the cold win.

you had no choice but to grow up when you graduate high school and especially after your grandma passed. with the limitation of your actions and wealth, grandma always helps you grow into the person you are. ready to face anything, even if it’s intimidating. she told you to be positive as people can reciprocate it back, but slowly in the city, arguments are thrown to hold it back. people are crafty in the city and lies are thrown everywhere, even near you.

yet you still seem optimistic. the story of pan and the lost boys were also the story of facing your coming-of-age and how people want to stop it. you can vividly remember the five boys in the book and the girl they brought from the real world to stay with them. yet she leaves because she realizes she has to grow up. what if she stays? what if you stay back at your town and do not move to the city?

the elevator’s ding signals the opening door as all of you step and disperse to get out. all of you move haggardly, knowing the painfulness of a tired body coming to you all and especially the ones who are very intoxicated.

“i’ll try to make a hangover soup for all of your breakfasts, okay?” you speak as they nod their heads. chaewon and her pouty face reach to you and hug you as the other follows, crushing you into a tight grip as soobin smiles until his dimples show.

“thank you so much, (y/n). you’re the best” jihoon says as he hiccups. raising your shoulders, it signals them to let you go as they say your good nights with jaemin being the last one as his unit is right near soobin and yours. as the door closes, the hallway’s silence enveloped you and soobin. your eyes moved to see him rubbing his head, pushing his beanie off before he holds it in his hand.

“you’re also gonna give me a bowl of the soup even if i’m not as drunk as them?” he asked as you let out a small smile, nodding. awkwardness flies between the two of you as you sway your body, hyping yourself to talk to him, but you don’t know what to talk with him.

“i’m sorry, by the way.” you hide your startled self as soobin pushed forward to speak, shifting to face you. “for worrying you back at the pub.”

“oh… yeah.” you lick your dried lips, nudging the fallen coat on your shoulders up. “sorry for worrying you too. from my daydreaming session precisely.”

“you had a lot of that since you arrived here. even holding onto your own head like you’re in pain. are you really okay?” soobin steps near you as you look away. it is always with soobin that it’s painful. but when it’s with your friends, you also had moments when you disassociate. seeing not your friends, but different boys wearing clothes that have tears on them. yet you recognize them too.

but it’s always with soobin that your “daydreaming session” becomes more prominent. though not as sore as the first one, you can still feel something press on your memory, telling you to process and remember something. but what?

“uh…” you shook your head, teeth biting your lower lip. “it’s like my brain is trying to tell me something, especially with you five. i have this weird memory recall suddenly where i am by a beach or in a forest whenever i’m with you five, especially with you, soobin.” you heard him inhale after you call his name.

eyes meeting his, his eyebrows creased as he steps closer, your feet almost touching his as you recognized how confidential this piece of information might be to just give away. but because he is the reason you feel this way, maybe he could have an answer.

“it’s like… i know you before, but from where exactly?” your hand animately moves as you try to express your thoughts. “i could label it as a déjà vu or maybe it is a coincidence. i, i don’t freaking know…”

“hey…” soobin reaches out and holds your shoulder. “thank you for trusting me. i don’t know how i can help you but you can definitely rely on me.” he nods with you following.

gulping down your saliva, you look towards soobin who is giving you a small side smile before you give one of your own. the light from the ceiling cast a shadow where you can only see his silhouette—like a sun does near the horizon. something pulls you in and as if soobin knows too, his head moving forward slowly towards yours. you can feel his breath meeting yours, eyes staring at his with brief glances make as you’re taken into a black hole that is him, pulling you in more and more.

“don’t you have class tomorrow morning?” you asked, finally able to pull away as you catch his mumble “fuck“ as he retreats to his front door. pushing his code in, he twists the door handle and pushes the door open with his back.

“i owe you one. good night, darling.” he nonchalantly spoke, didn’t think about anything he said, and stepped into his unit.

“good night, soobin,” you replied after the door closes as you return to your own.

the suffocation of the room is prominent as you feel every pump of your heart from what happened. you don’t care if it’s nighttime, but you need to calm down and process everything. the leaves from the plants—especially sprout with its daisy flower blooming—whirl when you arrived. you sat in your usual place against the back of the wall beside the railing: a favorite of yours where you can glance at your plants but also view the city. you curled your knees up to your chest as you peer towards the plants, seeing them reflecting your expression with their posture animately, even the nuances of the flusteredness you tried to push away. your heart beats not from fear, but because of the fluttering sense that you had.

you never asked why soobin called you darling. the first time you heard it, it overwhelmed you until it broke you down. but him calling you by your nickname even if he doesn’t know it is comforting. as even if you walk towards the future, the past is still there to remind you who you are. the little reminder of grandma and your storybooks help, but someone calling you darling is different.

one of your hands rested beside your curled-up body so you can hold it up. the tile floor is cold to your touch with a little softness coming from the plants growing in the cracks. your mind runs high on what happened. but what happens next? soobin now knows why you’re like that. but shivers still ran down your spine from his figure as if you met him before, that he is someone you cherished.

you don’t know how long time has gone but you feel something touching your hand on the floor. looking at it, you see a vine wrapped around your forefinger, not in an intimidating way but a soothing one as it caresses your skin. when your finger moves, it immediately retracts from your touch and follows your movement, left and right, and even growing and shrinking.

you’ve watched grandma do that before when she wants to decorate the house, even telling the trees that are planted in your garden to follow her guide. yet you don’t know if you also get that ability before now. your fingertips revert to your skin color from the green chlorophyll pigment, a smile form on your face as you feel grandma’s presence soothing you—even an unfamiliar yet identical one who you can only conclude is your other family member—as you pick yourself up and prepare to drift into slumber.

the grass gets greener beneath your touch, feel it being refreshed from the energy you gave to them. the sound of the waves crashing to the shore filled your ear as you turn towards your little cave opening where you reside. a little cave you call your home.

the boys left you alone as you wander near where you live, a dagger strapped onto your thigh for safekeeping or if you want to drink coconut water from the fallen fruits on the sand. you look down when you see the grass leaves wrap around your fingers. they do seem to love you here, the plants. it’s as if you’re the calling of mother nature visiting neverland for the first time. your ability seems to grow more as time goes on with you staying on the island, even forgetting what is going on in the faraway place you used to call home. will they remember you? will they question your existence? you don’t know unless you visit there. but the thought of leaving always leaves your mind as you are already too attached to the boys here, especially to pan.

you learned how to craft basic things through yeonjun’s lessons, finding the right herbs to eat with taehyun, hunting and fishing fish with beomgyu, and exploring the island with kai. soobin, well, he is always busy with things relating to his position as pan.

by the campfire, you heard all of their stories, excluding soobin’s who is somewhere on the island. when they came back at sunset a few hours ago, they brought a crate of things they stole from hook and his mates. all you do is talk and let each other talk as you can see the moon reaching the peak of the sky right at the open ceiling in your cave as you ate dinner from the fishing pile. you sensed beomgyu and kai leaning their heads against each of your shoulders as yeonjun and taehyun take turns drinking the rum that is inside that crate. their stories were your realization as to why they are called lost boys.

“soobin told you how all of us came from the same world as you, but we all have the same tune of problems. adolescence expectations and targets, pleasing the parents with studies and their results after it. some are more dangerous than the others but we know they ostracized us in a way.“ taehyun speaks the tell-all as yeonjun pushes his hand out with the bottle of rum that is near empty—not caring about what happened right after as you grab and drink the bottle until the last drop, licking the sweet residue off your lips before you wipe them with the back of your hand. all of them telling their stories one by one, opening up and showing you their most vulnerable side as you listen intently—understanding them more because most of the time you spend here is with soobin. all of that conversation spoken between all of you lasted until the pile left only soot and faint smoke flying up. the four boys rise up from the logs as they lay down on their respective spots with you helping to clean up the cave.

“thank you, mother.“ you heard beomgyu teasingly mumble, his voice slurs away as you let out a giggle. it is a jest for them that they see you as their mother figure—being the only female in the commune yet also helping clean and arrange things in it. but the more you think of it, you seem to like it. you’ve always cared for your younger siblings a lot back home. but the connection is a tad clearer, especially with your blooming relationship with their leader, who is a much more authoritative figure.

putting the utensils and other things in the right place, you look at the night sky illuminated by the surface of the sea. candles lit up in a few corners of the commune to help in navigating. your hand traces down your exposed skin by your neck and collarbone, pressing it down to feel the pain from where soobin marked you as his a few nights ago. both of you don’t know exactly what to do, but it felt right to explore more—and a little more explanation on the education side from what you learned at school. your legs are still sore but it’s slowly masked by how heavy your head is, both from the soft and relaxing atmosphere but also the substance flowing in your body. it tells you to rest up but you don’t want to, letting your steps take you outside the mouth of the cave.

you inhale the clear air you are now much more used to than steams coming out of the running machines outside of your previous house. the wind caressing your skin and rustles the plants. your thought returns to soobin and how mysterious he is slowly becoming. he promised to tell you everything, but he disappears into the day until the middle of the night, hasn’t returned and he didn’t tell you about it at all. you wanted to pry the boys, but your guilt showed up first before you take action.

sitting down on the sands near where the water crawls, you let your eyes droop. you couldn’t lie—you wanted to—but you seemed lonely. isolated. yes, you live with five other people, but when words have different meanings depending on the layer of connections you get yourself into, you are slowly getting ostracized in a group full of ostracized people. you’ve contemplated speaking about it to soobin but your guts tell you to not do that as he then went away more and more because of his pan duties. he told you what does his nickname come from as you both lay beside each other nights ago.

“pan is a title that this island’s deity gives me and makes me responsible to protect neverland, the species who live here, and the island’s nature from evil or any other dangerous parties. but i gave it another reason to help children from back in our old world to face their fears even for just one night, as an imaginary friend that brought them to neverland. there will be mythos written about me and my actions, which i don’t mind.” soobin rustles beside you as you felt his knuckles caressing your cheek, “you’re the first adolescent i had to help. the boys and i are stuck in this age as we grow up slowly, sneaking to see people our age outside the island knowing what to do with their lives. all but you.”

sure, he promised you adventures—which you had. but he never seems to bring you to his adventures. the other species on the island like fairies and sirens were told by soobin to respect you. but when you wanted to get closer, they back up and left you behind as the vines crawl to comfort you without you telling them to do so. yet, you don’t understand why they should fear you that much. you are the same as the humans here, including the pirates.

that’s when an epiphany struck you. a bolt of lightning in the bottle.

you remembered how soobin promised to bring you back to your family once in a while. but you never did—even with him flying away there for hours, gone until he came back.

you also realized that he never brought people to neverland again after you though he tells you it is one of his “jobs”. as if even with how young they are if they come here, they could recognize you from their world. it is as if he is done with his pan tasks outside of neverland, like he is satisfied to take care of other things. all after, you stayed. but he still went to your old world, doing whatever tasks he does without even considering your ultimate wish to visit your family.

hooded eyes are covering your vision when you tried to stand up by yourself. your balance is off in a way that you misplace your legs when you walk. but you can feel the underwhelming rage growing inside you as it slowly sheds away with every heavy step you took from the wet sand that sucks you down.

you needed to go home to your family, no matter what it takes. you don’t know what is beyond the horizon from the island but with a ship or boat, you could try. every step you take—no matter how sporadic—is heavy but agile with the growing fury that is flowing through your veins.

you could see the opening of the cave, planning to cut the rope and steal the boat that the boys have by the little sheltered cove you called home. but your body is pulled backwards, and something heavy covers your mouth and nose. with your intoxicated body, you were too late to get the dagger as darkness enveloped your vision.

“what do you mean you know nothing about her whereabouts?“

the boys cowered as they stare at their leader with a look so unnatural than his usual. his clothes were cleaner and tidier than his usual tattered ones as he left to visit the town where you used to live. papers were scattered beside his feet as the boys stare at him.

“we don’t know, soobin. we swear,“ kai mumbles as soobin strides towards him before lifting him by his collar. his teeth grinding against each other as he lifts himself off the ground with his power, dragging the other boy.

“when is the last time you see (y/n)?” kai struggles to swallow his saliva and answered as soobin’s grip rested near his throat, struggling more to breathe as soobin caught the sound of the boy’s clothes tearing little by little.

“when did you last see her?!“

“l- last night,” kai mumbles as soobin float closer, sniffing something weird on his friend before he realizes, dropping him onto the sand where taehyun is waiting to pull him up to his feet.

soobin scans the commune to find anything out of place, observing each and every part of the commune when he sees an unfamiliar wooden crate near the ones he knows. he drops to the sand before striding towards the crate and opening it to find a few empty bottles of rum.

“did all of you drink last night?“

“yes.“ yeonjun doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“did she drink any last night?“ soobin sends a follow-up answer, hoping they say “no” before turning to them and they meet him with silence. returning his gaze, he sees how emotionally down they are as they haven’t recovered from the substance, but it is much worse when you’re in recovery from how drunk you are especially when you’re not used to it. he caresses the wooden surface for any clue where they got the bottles of alcohol. that is when he felt a small indent near the bottom of the crate, which he recognizes in his waking mind. soobin shook his head in disbelief before bracing himself.

“hook. she’s with hook.“ he turns around and strides to shake his friends.

“this is all your fault. if you let my love get away like this, i-.” soobin didn’t finish as he shake his head in disbelief. he returns to his pile of loot, picks up a machete he hasn’t used in a while, and straps a sheath behind him to put it in. the other boys stare at their leader in various states of mind: guilt, tiredness, fear, and nauseous. soobin heard the rustle coming from the side, peeking to find taehyun taking a glimpse of the papers before the tall boy got up and returned to the others’ presence.

“prepare yourselves. we’re going to raid their ship,“ soobin said as he lets his pouch full of magic dust strap on his belt as the others scurried away to pack up what they need. you could’ve escaped with the dagger he gave you, but with your drunken state that he guess you had, the likely chance for you to escape is abysmal. his hands clench and unclench from the overwhelming emotions he is having, pouring out of the vase that is his mind. he has to punish the boys somehow. he will do that after he gets you back from those nasty hands of the pirates.

the boys stuck to his behind as they traverse through the forest instead of following the coastline—a much faster way to reach you. but even with the path cutting their time, the jungle’s topography is dangerous and unexpected. the usual clear path that he and the boys took now blends in with the rest of the forest grounds, obscuring his way. pulling out his machete from behind his back, he cuts the thick vines as best as he can. no spoken word is needed. his focus is only on getting you back in his arms.

but the jungle seems to fight back as he can only see the small glimmer of the light outside. with every hack of the machete, he sees the butterflies and moths going out of his way—a few fallen from not being fast enough. not minding the other four, he lets the machete whack the last few vines before meeting the beach where the pirate ship docks. the masks of the chirping birds cover the boys’ whisper as they trail the sand to the behemoth of the ship where you are. not wanting to wait anymore, he flies to the bow of the ship.

soobin’s eyes landed on your figure that is being tied at the bottom of the mast. your dress sticks to your skin, the ends of it flowing with the ocean’s wind even with your hand tied behind your back. head lulling down as you tried to rest, seemingly too tired to fight any longer. that’s when he sees the pirate captain, hair long until his nape, piercings adorning his face, tattoos littering his hand, and knuckles, with a hook on the other wrist.

“captain hook!“ soobin drops on the bow as hook turns his head towards his voice with you raising your head. the frown on the man getting deeper, pulling out his sword from his side.

“seize pan!“

the crewmates climb and crawl to the boy’s figure. all holding melee weapons of various shapes and sizes that it became too hectic for him. but using his machete, he blocks the incoming metal as the clanks touch every part of it. every lesson he learned with his friends on sword-fighting lies on this. the remnants of cuts from the training are a reminder of his loss. but he held on and continue to train until he can fight with it. but even with his magic as part of his arsenal, his skill plummets from the overwhelming amount of crewmates trying to stop him.

soobin clench his fists so tight that veins show up near the surface of his skin, sensing his power succumbing and creating a chamber inside him where it collects. he hasn’t seen the backup of his boys, adding it to the wrath that is filling him up. soobin fights and deflects as hard as he can until his magic is too hard to handle. the dust he held in his pouch falling out to his skin as they fuel his anger.

“AGHH!” soobin shouts, exploding the outrage as all things near him are pushed away and landing on places on the ships. blood splatters onto the wood and his tidy clothes as his body holds on, his nerves reacting to a sting with a liquid form a little running stream on his cheek. brushing it with his thumb, he finds the crimson liquid that is from his cut vessel.

bodies fall limp as they ran out of blood. the mast and other shrapnel of woods stick out of their fleshes as the blood pools the path between him and you. yet, pan smiled. he smiles as he steps towards your shaking body. you’ve probably never seen this much blood and all he wants is to come and comfort you from it. his footsteps covered in blood as the living crewmates cower from his moving body. you spoke nothing as the emotions overwhelmed you, eyes glistening from the tears threatening to fall. hook disappears with no trace, blown out by his magic burst.

his hands hasten to cut the rope that binds you in one slice. dropping his machete down as he holds you tight, staining your white dress with the blood on his hands—hugging you and resting his hands around your upper back. he felt you crumble under his arms as he closes his eyes, hearing your gasps before letting loose a small whine from the overwhelming emotions. your hands grasping his body in a tight squeeze.

“it’s me…“ he spoke lowly into your ears, letting the creaks of the moving wood on the ocean waves fill the space. pulling away to open his eyes, he sees your wide eye face and furrowed eyebrows as he smoothes down his thumb across your cheekbone, blood smearing on your face.

soobin’s body is pulled back when he felt a hook under his jaw and something sharp pierce the outer texture of his forearm. he heard the haggish breath of the captain hook in his ears, even felt the cold metal from his piercings touching the boy’s earlobe. yet, you didn’t seem to hurry and stop the pirate, standing there as your body is quivering.

“sweet dreams, pan,“ the pirate whispered as soobin’s eyes trail down your white dress and the blood stains he gave you before going down to your legs. that where he sees it: drops of blood landing in a small pool beside your right heel.

your body slumps down as your skin is losing its colors fast. soobin’s body thrashes against hook before he punches the pirate’s gut with his elbow, letting him go as he rushes to grab you as you fall. your mouth lets out whimpers as soobin sees behind you, seeing your dagger pierced into the lower black with blooming red on the white fabric.

“no… NO!“ soobin shouted as he turns to hook who don’t have any remorse to help you up, an unintelligible look on his face. holding your body as best as he can, your whimpers haunt him as he listens to footsteps finally arriving at the ship. turning to see the boys walking towards your laid body on soobin’s arms, pulled by gravity as your head hangs down. not strong enough to lift it yourself.

“why aren’t you doing anything?!“ the boy continued to scream. he tried to stop the bleeding, covering near the cut as best as he can, and not pulling the dagger out; knowing that more blood will flow out. but he felt a cold touch on his warm hands.

“i…“ your voice is so little only he could pick up. soobin’s tears fall on his cheek as your life fades away.

“don’t leave me.“ soobin cries, your body already limp as you don’t have control of your own agency anymore. his hands push your body up as he hugs your fading warmth. the last time he cried this hard was a long time, something he never wanted to talk about with anyone but allowing you to hear it. you were the only person he trust. you’re his world and here you are, being ripped away from it by the dagger he gave to you.

“you believe in another chance at life?” he remembers you asking, seeing the sunrise on the beach after he came back home from returning a child back to their home. “well, i do. i hope i get a chance,” you answered, drawing in the sand between where you both sit. small circles that are similar to the foams coming from the waves.

“i will like it and even with another chance at life, i want it to be with you.” soobin spokes as you stop drawing and let hold on to your hand with his.

“i promise. i’ll find you.“ he whispers into your ear when he sees your face empty of life. his jaw is locked tight as something dangerous is filling up inside him. everyone was stunned yet none was helping you as he lets himself let go.

the last thing he sees was red as he opens his eyes.

soobin’s body folds up on his bed, sweat forming on his face and his bare torso as he stares at the morning light filling up his bedroom. the digital clock on his bedside table showing the hour with its red lights. he rubs the creases form on his face, even the tears that have fallen from the corner of his eyes.

the past few nights were full of this specific dream he had over and over again, as if he is there in purgatory. yet, when he met the refreshing outside morning air on his way to his college class, his step springs into motion as if nothing happened—pushing it back with his usual memories. well, that and all the sacrifices he made to be here. the gallons of blood he had to step into at that ship deck doesn’t scare him, but he embraces it instead. getting to know each motive and detail that make him feel that enraged that day.

his open laptop obscures the way his hands move on his notebook. the flowing ink draws on the lined papers with the mention of words he heard in the dream and more he recognizes. but two are the most prominent: pan and darling with the lines between each other. the writing is unintelligible for others but him. and there is also a certain word that is flooding onto the sheet of paper, creating a reminder to not let him forget why he is here now.

(y/n).

my darling, (y/n).

when he found out another tenant move in into the apartment next to his, he didn’t expect to see his long-lost lover’s face; though different because your more timid side is shown. soobin had prepared for the day when he agreed to do it—to tell you who he is, who his friends are, and more—but he always thought he had to shield himself from you. he doesn’t know if the (y/n) he recognized is his love, the (y/n) that left him amid a maroon-colored deck all alone, bodies were thrown everywhere even with his lost boys and the captain not surviving. blood dripping down the side of the ship and drops into the salt-filled waters.

he realized the moment that he, jihoon, suhyeon, chaewon, and jaemin met, they are this life’s version of his boys—jihoon and his handiness skill like what yeonjun had; jaemin and his vast knowledge like taehyun’s; suhyeon’s friendliness like kai; and chaewon’s aloofness like what beomgyu has. all of them need a friend who can guide them and take care of them. they don’t hesitate to nominate him even with his humble excuses.

soobin also didn’t expect to be born in the same situation he had back in his earlier life. ignorant father and abusive mother that he had to cope with every time he can. he didn’t have a youthful life like what his neighbors have and that increases his childishness, which he learns to masquerade under his mother’s tantrums. the rum he used to steal from the pirates is being replaced with cigarettes and occasional recreational drugs that he doesn’t hesitate to do even in his teenage years—no one cared for him as a person anyway back before he met the lost children.

after reading a book about pan and the lost boys in a library back when he entered his pre-teen years, all the memories locked inside him are out of the boundaries and flood his memory. how at the mention of a dangerous siren, he remembered saving you from it. how pan first met darling is a more simple explanation when he met his darling and take her away to his home: neverland.

but when he read the ending, he had to pause as he read to find the decision of her leaving neverland and growing up to finally let pan see her as an older woman—a mother to her children—which he can’t bear to read more because it remembers it to his own mother. his darling wouldn’t leave him that way, right?

when soobin needed to get more money, he never expected to stand outside a pub called neverland near his campus. he braves himself and does observations when he met face to face with jungkook—remembering that the hook he fought was named captain jeon like the last name of his boss that conducts his interview with and make him rely on him for his income. everything was set in place—a group of friends, an abode, a neverland. all he could do is wait until the day he found darling, or when darling moved to find him and his friends.

you seem to still have your affinity to plants and he observed how plants follow your guidance with just a flick of your finger. it is something he admired you for, especially when you told him you had that gift before and it became stronger in neverland. he remembers seeing how the tips of your fingers turn green every time you influence the floras. he remembered you calling the group to help you move the pots of plants you bought for your balcony garden; just like how you teach the boys how to garden back on the island. but he can’t lie. he felt intimidated by them and how they can care for you where he can’t. how your attention stays on them but not to him.

he used to experience the same headache, but because of his resilient soul from all the pain he bears, he lets it embrace him. the length of it becomes so short that it is now so swift and disperses instantly as his old life’s memories come back again. and with the small reminder of your life with him back on that island, he notices the head-crushing headache you’ve experienced. but by the way you cower. it’s much more painful than what he experienced—just like what he was told. he wanted to pull that pain away from you because you’ve had too much, letting him feel it instead. after all, he is already numb to it. but when you start to only get a few swaying heads instead of the difficult headaches you’ve gotten days before, he can’t help but to smile to himself—and how happy he is you’re embracing your memories back.

it will not be long until you remember him again.

when you arrived here, he played a more passive part to integrate you into the lost children. even protecting you at a point because you might not be his love that he recognizes. but when the headaches arrived, he lets you in into their culture, ways, and style—how he remembered you embrace the lost boys’ way so fast back in neverland. your own clothes blending in with their new street style, like your white dress combined with a leather corset that he stole from the pirates. he stands back and gazes at how your behavior joins in with the rest of his friends, shopping sprees in thrift shops, walking in the night with them, and now, alcohol is your recent interest. he lets out a small smile when your caring side shows up and takes care of the rest of the friend groups, giving your homemade recipe to try, helping in discussing the homework he and his friends have with your knowledge, and taking care of them when they’re sick.

just like how a grown-up is.

as he heard your story on why you have to grow up fast, he is furious. when you said you had no choice but to be like that, letting your adolescence envelop you, he wished he could have his magic back and pray to the altar before the deity that gave him the second chance to also wished for you to have a regular childhood where you can let your childishness stick within you.

he remembered the phrase “the great pan is dead“ chanted by the beings he met on the island as they see him sacrifice himself to rest, letting him succumb to his wish to be returned to you whenever it could be. he will wait an eternity just to be with you again, and that time has come.

soobin stayed at the sidelines as one of the servers, looking at the large crowd full of familiar faces dining and enjoying his campus’ victory in today’s match—a step closer to the semi and final matches. the part-timers who work here are all being brought because of the many patrons that have come, letting him finally meet the few workers you had worked with. he listened to jihoon's grunt as he returns from his run around, giving the boy a small smile as soobin gave him pats on his back right after. the music playing from the speakers is loud and booming, rattling the whole bar area where the girls are serving, including you. he grimaced when sees your tank crop top as you served college guys drink, seeing their lusty eyes on you as kook told you to have fun.

his eyes stayed on you who is having a great time, even having your own gin and tonic at the side to drink. kook wanted to let the “big guns” out for tonight that he predicted, letting the boys and girls wearing similar revealing shoes and having the island and forest vibe from the main interior thematic to stand out more—castaways having fun eating, conversing, and dancing the night away; just like he and his mates did back in his neverland. that’s when he sees more people crowding the bar area. soobin walks towards it after taking care of a few orders to see the crowded front of the bar with chaewon dancing on the bar top. she pulls suhyeon up as they walk around the bar top, seeing your wide smile from the ground before they pull you up.

he walks closer to the counter between the kitchen and the front as his eyes can’t look away from you who is dancing on the bar top, letting the alcohol break your restraints just for the night as more of the bartenders are getting busy with the many orders. you sway and dance with the music as best as you could, the yellow lights illuminate the bar reminding him of how you and the boys dance the night away back on the shore of neverland—the campfire create a perfect lighting as you and the boys dance around it.

the night went crazier. even he was brought into the craziness when he step behind the bar to see if another order is done, seeing you turn around and face him at the area as you dropped and walks towards him, speaking no words when you get him into your embrace and dance around following the music blaring from the speakers.

the crowd fades out like the sound of the waves he used to hear, his hands embracing your waist like he used to remember. the lights creating stars in your eyes like the one he remembers seeing. your hands wrapped behind his nape, bringing him closer to you. he wishes he could save this moment even under his hesitation and your forwardness because of the alcohol. he lets you go as you have to continue your work and he does too until late in the night of today and early time of tomorrow.

his back hurts from cleaning the place up, swiping the trash away with his broom as he can see all the workers lookingmessy all around, yet he couldn’t find you. soobin turns his figure towards suhyeon at the bar, cleaning up the spilt-over drinks on the wooden top, eyes blank as the alcohol effect fades out.

“suhyeon…” her eyes glance at the tall boy as she lets out a sheepish smile. “you’ve seen (y/n)?”

“uh… yeah…” she slurs. “i think she is in the restroom. she mentioned that her stomach’s hurting. probably puking from drinking too much.”

“okay. thanks…” soobin answered, hearing her teasing “for sure, papa.” before he went away.

he remembered how his friends have called him “dad” while also calling (y/n) “mom”. something he remembered the boys also called you and he in your previous life.

stepping inside the kitchen for the first time in hours, he saw felix and lia focusing on cleaning the plates first as he found the room to be much cleaner than what he expected. the door to the employee lockers—where the restroom is also located—is ajar as he steps closer, hearing his footsteps clearer before he heard a thud on a metal.

“move back, please…” soobin caught a small familiar whimper. peeking through the door, he finds someone being covered by a large man with tattoos. seeing the man move, he finally sees the person he was searching for. you.

“kook!” soobin calls as kook turns his head towards his voice with you raising your head. the frown on the man getting deeper.

“let her go.” he steps closer. your eyes widen, seeing the boy’s disorganized hair and clothes with a frown on his face. even with nearing a meter in front of him, soobin can smell the stench of alcohol on his manager much stronger than on yours.

the man lets out a wicked smile where his facial piercings make him more menacing than ever; so similar to the captain he fought against. your body is cowering more than ever before he heard you grimace. he sees your eyes wandering between the two males as soobin steps forward more and more.

“not again. i won’t let you get away with this.” soobin picked up the murmurs of kook harassing his female employees once in a while. it is only suspected that the girls in his group might be his next victim. he didn’t think it could be you. the regrets he built for letting you in with his and his friend’s way are showing again. but he won’t let the man win twice.

the drunken kook slides forward, fist high up, and soobin shielded with his forearm. punches were thrown as soobin tried to defend himself from him, getting a few cuts from the rings on his hands. the boy’s eyes drift to the papers flying as kook is thrown near it, writings on the paper, and a table full of numbers and a few lines of ink on it as soobin continue to fight against your assaulter. the man’s fist hit soobin’s nose and his head is thrown back with his body stumbling. he could feel the blood coming out of his nose as the memories of combat he learned back in his previous life come back. that’s when he picked up your whimpers as you covered your head, getting heavier and heavier.

soobin tried to reach for you as kook grabs him from behind, letting him see you scream in excruciating pain as you drop to your knees. the image of you kneeling and falling on the ship’s deck flickering in his eyes as he punches the man’s gut with his elbow before giving one last punch to his face, knocking him down onto the empty cardboard boxes that their ingredients came from.

he rushes to hold your body as your body becomes limp and your breathing shortens. the tears falling from soobin’s eyes as he sees you becoming unconscious in your white tank top work outfit. the blood running on his face drops to stain the white as he brought you up, letting your head in the crook of his neck as he sobs.

“no…” soobin begs.

“not again please, darling.” he soothes your back as he recalls what the deity said upon his wishes.

“the memories she will get of you will be accompanied by the sense of stabs being pierced into her body. she will become strong enough, but don’t bombard her with too many things as she might die from too much pain.“

“(y/n) please.” soobin sobs, resting his face on the crook of your neck. your skin is cold against his warm touch.

that’s when he sensed something caressing the side of his body, rubbing the side of his abdomen before he leans away. your hand smoothes down on his red-splatted white tank as he brought his eyes to yours, hearing you mumble unintelligible words when you open your eyes, seeing the tears flowing down the corner of your eyes when he sees your eyes enlarged.

“it’s you,” he heard you mumble, raising the hand that startled him to his face, letting it caress his wounded cheekbone as you can’t close your mouth tight. your body shook as you mumbled.

“it’s you, pan.”

“you remember me? do you remember us, darling?” soobin whispered as he sees you nod.

it’s weird to learn again about someone you used to love, especially with your fragmented mind now being whole with the epiphany that you’ve experienced in soobin’s arms. in pan‘s arms. as you remembered everything, even with your current situation close to his warm figure, your knowledge of the world transforms from within you. you couldn’t rebut anything as the doors of your memories are unlocked one by one.

but you can’t bear to let it out to the boy holding you. could you trust him? is he the boy that you knew? the boy that brought you to the island? the boy who held you in his arms as your light dims along with your fading life?

your trembling body sat up against soobin’s thighs. you try your best to wipe the blood off his face before he hugs you so tight, it took your breath away. in the circumstances that you live in, memories of your moments with him show up more and more when you let soobin hold your face in both of his palms. you now recognized why you’ve felt a certain way with the forest in your grandma’s back garden, the boys you adore in your fairytale book. it’s because of him. it’s because of him and the boys you lived with on the island that your grandma read and you imagined in your mind.

his eyes glisten with tears as he leans in and give you a peck on your cheek. yet you don’t know how to react. should you wrap your arms around him? should you pepper his face with kisses? should you grimace away as you try to collect yourself, hurting him instead?

soobin leans back as you stare into his eyes before letting them fall away, turning to see kook’s body laying on the floor. he follows you, hands unclench from your body as he relieves you.

“did kook touch you? i swear if he did then-“

“he...” licking your lips, you compose yourself. pushing your thoughts to the ones created before memories of him come back. “he is drunk, soobin. it’s- he is trying to tell me something but in a jumbled way. then my head hurts once again. i tried to tell him to give me space. he then pressed forward yet he couldn’t articulate his words to me. that’s when you came.” you look towards soobin before back at your boss.

soobin lets out a sigh as he helps you stand up and lean against the surface. he goes to his locker to take out his phone and call someone as you stare at the scattered paper on the floor that is supposed to be your job to analyze—papers that kook pushes for you to hold. you see something in his eyes grow like a person just realizing something out of horror. it's as if he was forcing you to pick it up with his unintelligible voice. or that he could be in danger. with your weak body but subsiding pain, you scoot down and gathered the messy papers in your hands so that you could put them in your bag and analyze them back home.

footsteps are heard on the floor above you, approaching the stairs. mingyu steps down from his office area, seeing his friend hammered on the floor before gazing at soobin’s battered face and you behind your locker door. your boss shakes his head as he helped pick his friend up from the ground. soobin approaches to help as you look at kook’s hair covering his face, the rings that decorate his hand covered with a tiny bit of crimson coming from being in contact with the younger boy’s face.

“he will forget this the next day.” mingyu juts his chin to his friend. “close the pub for me tonight, okay?”

you and soobin nodded as mingyu lets his friend be held upright by the boy before going up the floor and packing their stuff. the room is too quiet that you can even hear your breathing, even kook’s who you know is alive but unconscious.

the rest of the workers stare as they watch both of the bosses walking out with soobin helping kook into a cab before it goes into the dead of the night. a few of them give a glance at you and how you also have blood on your white top as chaewon approaches you, not as sober as you are now who has conflicted thoughts.

“did- did he touch you in a way? cause if he did, i’ll punch him in the nuts for y-“

“he didn’t.” you’re piecing the long story into a short one to tell her in that short moment. “he’s drunk and soobin stopped him before he did anything that threatens me,” you replied, feeling another hand wrap around to find jaemin trying to hold you up as soobin returns inside, telling the others to continue cleaning up. you just want to think about anything else other than your newly discovered memory of your fairytale-like life.

when all six of you went home, soobin stayed beside you at all times as your brain sobered up, you see jihoon and jaemin helping chaewon and suhyeon each. your heart beats inside you as you don’t know what to say to the boy that “save” you late in the night—you’re not going to be surprised if dawn is approaching minutes away.

staying back from the crowd, you perceived soobin’s hand wrap around your shoulders, his defined muscles resting on them as he guide you home while the others stayed at the front.

you and the rest of the girls giggles as you stood in the moving elevator with the rest of the boys just letting out a small smile between the reflective interior of the walls. all of you helped each other settle one by one as you visit their apartments, you’ve visited chaewon and suhyeon’s before—when all of you tried the clothes you’ve bought—but you’ve also now seen the living areas of jihoon and jaemin for the first time. each of them having a distinct style that is so “them” respectively before you said goodbye and return to the hallway of your apartment along with your next-door neighbor.

when you see pan after a long while with your rowdy friends, you can’t help to feel a tug in your heart as soobin’s shoulders sag when he faces you. you stood in the middle of the hallway when you step towards your door.

your thoughts wrapped around each other. but you want to straighten up one by one and make your faint pain stop. and you knew who can.

“can i stay with you? today has been overwhelming and i just realized who you are and such. it’s…” your voice trails out as soobin steps and wraps your wrist with his hand.

“of course, you can.”

“okay,” you replied with a faint voice.

“i think you should put your stuff back at your place before you stay at mine,” he spoke out.

you look between him and your door as you nod and step away from him to go to your home. putting your shoes on the rack, you immediately go take a shower and scrub away the blood stain seeping into your top as best as you could. staring at yourself in the mirror, you wear a loose oversized t-shirt and pyjama pants that you always wear for the night. your footsteps take you towards your front door before you heard a rustling behind you. turning around, you find the plants’ leaves hitting the glass barrier of the inside and the balcony.

almost forgot. you said to yourself as you approached your watering can and poured water in it before you walked to your balcony. letting the water hydrate them, you let out a hum that grandma usually sings to make them happier and more energized. you recognize sprout’s moves as it takes the lead to dance like how you see grandma’s plants also do, making you giggle as the other plants try to follow it. not recognizing the notion, but at least attempting to.

“grow well for me, okay?” you mumble to them as you spot a moth landing on top of one plant, seeing its beautiful yet aggressive-looking patterned wings fluttering before resting on the leaf under the moonlight. looking as familiar as ever that you’re going to pin it to your mind to take a picture of it so you could identify its species. as you silently greet it, you then step inside and turn your lights off to let the moon shines inside and return to soobin’s front door. it is always a thing that grandma also teaches you as a moth travels with the moon lighting the night sky as its point of navigation. with all the unnecessary lights off at your grandma’s home, it won’t let the moths be attracted to other light sources—their biggest killer.

hearing the muffled ring from behind the door, your eyes switch between starting at the camera lens on the door and the wooden material of the door before you heard the familiar yet faint sound of the beep. the door opens into the small silver of a dark hallway.

“darling.” you heard the recognizable voice calling you as you could see soobin emerging from the darkness in a more loose white t-shirt and sweatpants. the short sleeves covered his shoulder, unlike the sleeveless tank he wore back at the pub. your eyes wander before staring at the wounds on his face which looks untreated and a dark-purplish area around his nose

“can i patch you up?” you murmured. it has always been second nature to you to heal something like healing plants from their sickness with the knowledge grandma taught you. yet, a certain push comes as your vision is cut off by a memory of you patching him and the lost boys up—pushing you to ask.

“yeah, you can.” he then pushes his hand forward for you to hold, which you put yours in carefully before he pulls you into the darkness.

when you enter, only small patches of light cover the living room, resembling fireflies you’ve regularly watched in your backyard garden since you were a child. and the fireflies you encounter back with pan as you both travel the forest under the raven sky. but it’s lit enough for you to see the sheer size of the main area. his apartment is bigger than yours as you scan the room filled with his paraphernalia that makes it pretty homey but youthful as well. your head turns towards him as he stayed quiet, letting you take a few minutes following empty walls to find the kitchen and a small dining table that is also larger in space than yours.

you knew about his childhood back in your “previous life”; the painful story that came to mind with a sense of concern. but you don’t know if he lives the same one in this life as well. if so, how did he get the money to buy all this stuff here?

footsteps follow him as he opens a door to his bedroom—all the units here only have one bedroom each—as you can find it is decorated in a more natural-looking style. a slab of wood sticks onto his wall, combining it with a few posters of musicians you recognized. his room looks a like a forest with the dark green accent wall behind his bed. the swirls of darker green created a shadow that looks like trees are planted and standing tall in his room. you view soobin, who is walking to his bathroom and opening its door.

“wait for me. i’ll search for the first aid kit.”

“i will,” you said back as you see the stream of light coming out of the bathroom.

your eyes travel onto the decorations littering his room. the way you recognized a few of the neverland-themed items is amazing: conch shells, glass bottles filled with colored sand, and a framed map of “neverland” like the one he had before with him, even to the way the map pictured the geography. you notice a pretty large piece made of glass shaped like a vase near the window of his room, hoses connecting to as it lets more than one people can use them in a single try. they continue to wander to his wardrobe and tables, clothes thrown on the floor but collected in a pile—reminding you of his pile back in the cave you called home.

you glimpse at his upright laptop of his on the desk with a notebook and an open book he marked on. stepping to approach it, you stepped onto something small as you look down at the night-lighted room to see something red. picking it up, you recognize it immediately. a swiss army pocket knife just like what you have; or what you had because you haven’t found yours in a while now.

as you placed the pocket knife on the desk, you heard the bed creaking, making you turn around to gaze at soobin sitting at the edge. his eyes go to you as he lets out a wide smile, the cuts and bruises on his face obscured by the small light source by his bedside table. your footsteps gliding you in front of the boy as you looked at the first aid kit beside him on the mattress.

“you didn’t patch it up on purpose, did you?” his eyebrows raised hearing your words, and his smile widen before he lets out a nod, earning a giggle from you: grinning like a child would when they’re caught doing something. you lean in to get the first aid kit and open it to pinpoint the basic medicines to help remedy his cuts. his bruise might need to be compressed with ice to let it heal later.

grabbing the antiseptic, you squeeze it out onto his cuts in tiny bits. his teeth gritting and breath hitches as you brush the medicine around with your fingers and let it spread to cover the wounds. you found three cuts on his face, one on his left cheek, one on his right jaw, and one on the bridge of his nose as you patch them up one by one. your heart palpitates inside of you when you caught soobin’s eyes staying on your moving ones—letting you catch him multiple times and he catches yours if you’re curious enough. soobin let his legs open to make it easier for you to stand closer to patch him up, his hands hanging near your waist.

“you know.” your eyes landed on his. “this reminds me of when you put those leaves on me to help with the sunburn on my face.” soobin spoke as you paused your action of smoothing down the strip on his nose. remembering clearly the moment he mentioned.

you were sitting underneath the coconut tree when you watch him and the boys playing kick the empty coconut. the sun was so bright that day, unnaturally bright as sweat even shows on your skin. yet, they played with no complaints. but when the boys return to the cave, you went to check on soobin to see him frowning. his cheeks have darkened a few shades.

“it’s stinging me,” you remembered his comment as you realized the sun had burnt him. your mind instantly thinks of one plant you remember that has a soothing component in its moisture that could help him.

soobin follows you as he puts on his signature white outer garment into the nearby edge of the forest you and taehyun forage in. the plants greet you as you asked them the specific plant you’re searching for, pointing the way to the specific plant you need as you stood in front of it. asking it permission, it lets go of two of its leaves as you help it grow back the leaves with your green fingertips.

pan was sitting on the small boulder as he stares at you doing your own thing before you step between his legs, letting his hand hold you by your lower waist. so intimate, you thought. you remembered as you can hear his sighs from the cooling sensation meeting his burning skin, letting both of your thumbs caress the leaves down on his cheekbones as he looks at you with love in his eyes.

just like what he is showing to you now.

you smooth the strip to let it stick before tilting back to see his face clearly. his eyes still hold that familiar loving gaze at you that is giving you a shiver, but you don’t know how you can reciprocate it with everything that is crossing your mind now.

nibbling your bottom lip, you move to sit beside soobin as you help pack the first aid kit back before putting it on your lap. a long sigh comes from you as something grasps onto your hand, looking down to see his on yours. with the way he touches and soothes you, you want to reciprocate so badly. but the doubt comes in once again as your mind is still in a mess from tonight’s incident and your unanswered questions are answered all at the same time, at the same moment.

“i…” you sucked your breath before turning your head towards the blond boy. “i miss you so much.” his fingers tangling with yours.

“i miss you too,” he replied before you shift your head towards him. the emotions you’re experiencing are overwhelming. the way each memory now comes to you is not with pain but with ease is perplexing when you now remember who he is.

“i should’ve remembered you when i heard the name soobin and your blond hair, realizing it was the same blond hair being represented in a book with the title pan,“ you whispered, letting giggles out from him. the sky is dark outside but it calms you both down when a yawn emerges from you. turning around, you listen to his chuckle as you let him pull you.

soobin opens his duvet to let you in as you lay down on his bed, which is bigger than yours. your body was stiff as you stare at the dim and now dark ceiling as soobin turns the lamp off. your eyes adjusted to the room as the light from outside the window helps you to see. movements on the bed making you more alert as you can feel your heart wanting to jump out of your chest. your hands are tugged above the duvet when you perceive his now familiar touch grasping yours once again, making you turn your head towards the boy who has his body turned sideways towards where you sleep.

following him, you let the light from the outside caress the side of his body. his face relaxes as you lean in closer towards him, letting your free hand reaches to him and caress his face—the different texture of his soft skin to the strip that covers his wound.

“you must be waiting so long for me to remember if you knew about us,” you speak your thoughts as he replied with a hum.

“i was. but it was worth it. i want to have you back in my arms again when i finally knew who moved next door. but when you don’t react the same, i knew i should take a long route.” soobin replied, leaning his cheek into your palm.

“i feared that you won’t remember me.” he lets out a sentiment before he lets go of your hand and let it trail up to place underneath your jaw, letting him caress your neck as he can feel how your pulse is so quick because of him.

“is it only us who knows this? i’ve been putting a peg on the lost children and how similar they are to the lost boys. even kook and mingyu too with hook and his first mate.” you questioned. soobin’s eyes cast downwards as you waited.

“only we know. their aura and demeanor resemble them, but i don’t think they remember anything. maybe it’s because their look is not the same as us who are, piece by piece, the same person,” he answered, hearing the rustling on his bed as you scoot closer. wanting no one to hear about this, as it is only both of you who know this deep secret in your life.

every memory of him comes back right this instance and how you spend many nights like this. talking instead of sleeping as your curious mind melts in with his curious mind; child-like curiosity that lets you figure out the world with open eyes.

“how do you know this could happen?” you let out a question you were dreading. with all the things you have faced in your life, you didn’t know you also have one before it. that’s why you’re so attracted to pan and the boys, because they are your friends. after all, they are your family, and because pan is yours to call.

“do you remember how you believe in another chance in life?”

your breath hitches and your eyes widen as you stare at soobin.

“this is it. isn’t it?” you mumbled as soobin lets out his signature dimpled smile.

“and i knew that i’ll find you again, right?” soobin replied as you nod, letting him move you closer as you rest your forehead against him. letting his warmth combine with yours and envelop both of you as your tired body can finally rest.

“how do i know i should trust you?” you mumbled as you felt soobin’s breath combining with yours. finger trace your jaw before cupping your cheek.

“may i kiss you?” he asked gently before you let out a small nod, letting your nose tip touch his before he tilts and slot his lips into yours.

the kiss was gentle, yet familiar. the memory of your first kiss in the middle of the forest comes back as he asked you to stay. the memories of neverland from the joy to the sorrow coming back, as it finally landed on the time you die in his arms. recognizing the distinct warmth that is his once again.

you close your eyes as you sleep near his face—letting your nose and lips near his, you listened to the sound of calm rolling waves once again for the first time in your life. the sound that always comforts you when you sleep in soobin’s arms.

“you can always trust me.”

“i knew something was going on between the two of you.” suhyeon pointed with her forefinger at you who was sprawling on the couch of chaewon’s apartment. your t-shirt sticking to your skin with your legs almost giving out on your way home. a tired smile shows on your face as you gaze at the boy sitting beside you, letting out his sheepish smile and resting his arm around your shoulders. the sound of ice cubes and lemon in the glass of gin and tonic on your hand shakes as you giggle with your other three tipsy friends.

you trusted soobin’s words as it was the last vibration you heard before you push into your next phase of sleep. you believe that he’s telling the truth as you woke up from a great slumber and greet him to see he made your breakfast that day. and since that day, you try to rekindle your love for him back.

it’s admiring, really. how patient soobin is with your relationship as he helps you remember things and reminds you of things he did with you back on the island, even exchanging mementoes you recall with each other. you really want to tell the others how they are back on the island, but soobin stops you as he doesn’t want them to hurt you if they say they don’t remember.

“i’ve tried hinting it to them but there’s no use. they won’t remember.“ soobin complained.

so you let go of that notion and let your relationship with soobin bloom once again.

he has taken you on three dates where only the two of you are present. one of them is at his campus. he lets you stay with him at the library while he is doing an assignment—letting you chime in with your opinions that could help as you give him a few kisses on his head for encouragement.

your second date was when he took you to watch a play hosted by his campus theater club. the handbook they gave you says it’s a rendition of a midsummer night’s dream and soobin rambles more because this play is the one he analyzed last semester. you let out a chuckle as you see how his eyes gleam in glee as he stares at the actors performing on stage, even mumbling out a few lines he remembered. you kiss him on his jaw as you try to stop his jaw from dropping from the performance, lighting, sound effect, and many more.

the last date was when he and you set up a picnic at the park after both of your shifts at the pub is finished for the day. you finally discover the food he was making as you weren’t allowed to enter the kitchen—your rotating job that day was as one of the servers.

back when he and the rest of your friends visited your unit for dinner, you told him how the foods you made are from your grandma’s recipe book she wrote for herself and for you to keep—showing them the book as they discover the various foods in them. you didn’t realize that soobin took pictures of a few of the recipes to be your menu for the picnic. you were in awe at how similar the taste it before soobin showed it to you, letting laugh in the middle of the night at the empty park.

then, he lets you try a few puffs of his cannabis vape too as you share a bud of his earphones. psychedelic music playing.

“it’s gonna be trippy but you should relax your mind and let it take you away,“ he chimed.

your mind flew to other places with your hyperawareness. the touch of the grass is much sharper but you sensed something more as it energized you, letting the sound of the music enters one ear and the other hear the rustling wind against the leaves. soobin’s giggles almost all the time as your mind calms down before you’re being brought into a giggle fit you don’t know how to stop. letting your head rest on soobin’s shoulder as you stare at the view of the empty lot and the sound of a running stream from the bridge near where you sat.

remembering the nights you had with him just like this, even with your friends.

your plants seem to recognize the blooming feelings you have been feeling, and it surprises you how your potted plants and even the vines have flowers on them. some of them even grew a fruit which they let you pick.

that was the first time you recognized just how strong your emotions influence your connection to the plants and how with them in their flowering phase along with you, more butterflies and moths have gathered at your balcony as they eat the pollen and help spread it. you can’t help but also connected to the critters too as more and more came, remembering what grandma said, “you are one of them too, darling.”

and the thought that maybe they’re your ancestors crossed your mind as you see three distinct monarch butterflies always resting in your sanctuary.

this morning, before you went out with your friends, you find the three monarch butterflies you give the plants their nutritional needs when one landed on your hand as the other two follow. one of them is sitting on your green fingertips as if it knows how it does too.

“hey, grandma,” you spoke to the critter as it flutter its wings, happy that you recognized her too. you speak around with the butterflies—your mom and grandpa—when you see another color on the sprout. taking your attention away, you stare at the sight. its body larger than butterflies, a moth. you’ve seen this moth before with its distinct colors. a moth that you now recognized after getting help from a forum. the same moth that shows up in your backyard garden when you and grandma are drinking tea together, seeing it perched on top of the kettle.

“grandma, what is this one?” you point your fingers to the creature as it flutters its wings, greeting you.

“oh, this one.” grandma’s eyes glance upwards as she thinks. “i believe this is the garden tiger moth. you can see how its wings have a pattern similarly shown on a tiger’s or panther’s fur, right?”

you nodded as it flies and landed on your thigh. “hey, little one.”

“hey, little one,” you muttered as you look at it moving around on sprout’s petals. you have never seen this one in a while since that day and you surely don’t understand how it goes to your balcony in the morning sun where it should sleep with its companions. maybe, it has visited your balcony more than you know as it’s comfortable with it.

“i’ll let all of you stay with the moth, okay?” you push your hand out as the butterflies follow your others and rest on the leaves, saying your farewell before going with your friends.

you had a great time going to a music festival together as soobin stayed by your side at all times, openly telling the others that you are together right. which you both silently confirmed as you rested in chaewon’s apartment for another round of drinks.

“is that why soobin pushed me to cook up the other orders a few days ago? you were preparing her a meal?” suhyeon jokingly groans as jihoon nudges her, winking to let them know he knows.

“i was the one beside him when he took a picture of (y/n)’s grandma’s recipe,” he said before jaemin cuts him.

“then why didn’t you tell us? we could help be your wingmates, you fuck,” the tattooed boy comments, making all of you laugh as you put a hand on his shoulder.

“it’s okay. we’re both happy together now. with and without a wingman helping us.” you reassure him as you heard suhyeon’s mumbling “but i want to be your wingwoman, soob.”

“okay, i owe the four of you something now.” soobin replied as the others giggle including those who sees soobin slapping his forehead.

as you finished the rest of your glass, you finished your time together as all of you retire to your abode. you wanted to walk to yours when you sensed soobin tugging your arm, letting the force bring you to him as he wrapped his hands around your clavicle for a tight hug.

that’s when you perceived something hard against your lower back.

his breath brushes your earlobe as he traces it with his lips. your eyes enlarged as your hands reached his arms and grasp them, feeling something bubbling inside you. soobin’s lips trace your exposed neck before going up once again to the side of your ear as he whispers.

“i need you.”

your eyebrows are raised as you tug his hands off your body, letting you turn around as you tilt your head. you and soobin didn’t drink as much as the others, you are mostly sober with a slight buzzing on your head. yet his hooded eyes stare at yours with something different igniting inside him. his hand trails down to rest behind your shoulder as he pulls you into his vicinity.

“you need me?” you questioned as you let yourself get influenced by him, putting your palms on his biceps as your body rubs against his. the way your black graphic t-shirt blend in with his—the lost children’s style influence yours as you put away your light green and beiges to use darker greens instead. if you let your old self sees you, you might have been a much different person. almost unrecognizable. a gin and tonic lover who went out almost every night and hangs out with a crowd who are not in your realm. but this is what you understand as “spreading your wings.”

and you are spreading yours to embrace soobin.

“i want you. i need you. i crave you. i-“

you slammed your lips to his. your hands climbing up to his shoulder before pulling his head closer, tugging his soft blond hair as he nibbles your bottom lip, earning a quaint whine from you. your hands trail to cup his face as his tongue infiltrates inside your mouth to greet yours, letting it dance with each other as you can’t help about your muffled moans.

both of you are heaving as you let go. soobin’s lips are smeared with your purple matte lipstick—courtesy of jihoon’s recommendation as chaewon and suhyeon are arguing between the two swatches they chose for you. his hair and t-shirt are dishevelled from your grip as he jutted his chin between your door and his door, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“yours,” you replied as soobin lets out a smirk and wrap his hand around your wrist before pulling you to him as he punches the numbers in.

both of you stumble in as you tried your best to take your shoes as fast as you can, hearing soobin’s giggles as you throw your bag on his couch before you turn around to his gigantic silhouette illuminated by the few lamps on in the living room. he strides toward you and encompasses you in his arms, letting his lips return to their rightful place on yours. you perceived how his touch is seeping through the fabric of your top as he holds you where your ribcage is. you patted your hands down his front before meeting the end of his shirt. pulling upwards, soobin stretches his arms up high as you finally see his bare chest and abdomen after a long while.

you remembered viewing the exact thing as in neverland—especially with his signature dirty long white outer garment draping on his shoulder. his muscles are there and it’s enough for anyone to realize how fit he is without added effort and making him bulky. his figure looks more ethereal under the faint moonlight and yellow light coming from the lamps, making him look much more inhuman, especially with his unnaturally blond hair. your hand trails down his pectorals as he is trying his best not to push away from shivers, instead he lets his forehead and nose rub against yours as you trace the ridges on his body, in between his muscles on his abdomen and side.

it took you too long to admire his body quietly as you sensed his hands holding onto your hip, tugging your oversized t-shirt out of your pants. he gives you a peck before lifting the material as you let him. his eyes trace how your chest is covered in a sports bra—your favorite type of bra because of the freedom movement you get. you knew how unsexy it is but he didn’t care as he leans in to kiss your lips before trailing down to your jaw, neck, collarbone, the expanse of skin right above where your breasts are. biting your lip, both of your hands tug lightly on his hair as he bits lightly on your skin, seeing faint darkness form because of him and the dark purple makeup leaving a trail because of your lipstick stain on his lips. you let out a breathy moan as he trails his nose back up to the junction between your neck and collarbone.

“remember how i mark you here?” he whispered before giving a small kiss.

“yeah…” your hands trail down to hold his hands in yours before you felt him suck on the exact spot he gave to you in your previous life. a moan left out from you as your head remembers the memory simultaneously as he did it to you now. the night’s darkness masked both of you as the bonfire burns the remaining firewood when your curiosity caught you. you never told your parents how you knew about this stuff but it seems it’s a natural phase if you love someone. soobin lets the boys sleep elsewhere—something he rarely allows as he wants all of them to be secure—just to get you both alone and make love.

“can’t wait any longer,” he groans, pulling away as he caught you by surprise. soobin lifts you from the floor and carry you in a bridal pose. you let out a quick shriek, almost falling off before looping your hand around his shoulder.

his foot pushes the open bedroom door wider as best as he could before the sound of it slamming against the frame shocked you from the force of his foot, making you frown as he puts you to the ground before he lets out small apologies, peppering more kisses on your face. soobin smiles when you reciprocate and attached your lips back to his as his warm palm caress your bare skin. his hand tugs the end of your sports bra as he pulls it up. the tight yet flexible material is gripping onto your skin as he pulls it away, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

“i miss these two,” he mumble before attacking your left boob and cupping the other one with his free hand. your giggles subside as the pleasure wins once again. soobin continues his attack on your breasts with your hands helping his own trail down your body before cupping your jean-covered cheeks. your breathy moans are getting more rampant as he pushed more, one of his hands moves forwards to cup your core at the front as you rub it against him.

“it feels good to know you want me too.” soobin muttered. his touch, even with the layers, makes shivers run down your spine.

“i miss you too, pan. so much,” you replied, his hands unbuttoned your pants before he pushes you to the edge of the bed. your hands pushing your upper body up so you could see him crouching down and pulling your jeans off of you. your legs automatically helped, straightening them as your skin meets the room’s temperature. you lean your head back as his lips trail kisses from your ankles to your knees before to your inner thighs, your body jitters from the tickles and shivers. your hands fell out and now holding your body up by your forearms, you gaze down to watch him getting closer and closer to your core, squirming in his hold when you sensed his breath touching your wet underwear. he leans in and gives a small kiss to your covered core when you felt yourself gushing more.

“so wet.” he lets his nose tip caress your covered slit and clitoris before he sniffs. “you smell like flowers.”

his thumb rubs onto your nub—“he remembered” the words came into your thoughts—before looking up to find your face casting down on him. your body turns putty in his hold as your jaw slackens from how good it is

“darling. my darling,” you whine as he called you by your nickname, a faint slap of your underwear band that he pulled meets your skin as you catch his smug and darkened eyes resembling a much stronger look you hope you are showing to him. soobin’s hand encases your body between the bed and his body as he pulls your panty down, expecting him to throw it before you see him tugging it into his back pocket. his nose scrunches as he looks at your stunned face before he leans down as gives you a short yet satisfying kiss.

“go up the bed,” he commands. you scoot yourself up to his bed, sitting cross-legged as you wait for him who is standing by it. his gaze lands on you as if you were a piece of sculpture in the middle of a museum. he unfasten his pants as fast as he could and you notice his dark gray boxer with an outline and a dark spot at the end of it. you swallow your drool as you remember the first and only time you ever had a man’s member inside you. it was his. and you can’t even wrap your palm around him fully.

you exhale as he pulls his boxers off and his cock sprang up; the blood rushing down to his member as he senses the arousal all around him. soobin leans in and crawls onto the bed with you. you thought he was going to push you down and trap you under him like the last time you had intercourse on the island. he chuckles at your bewildered face as he lays down with his head on his pillow, facing up along with his cock standing tall. your mouth opens as you wanted to ask before he cuts you.

“come sit on my face.”

“i- what?” your eyebrows crease as soobin leans up and grabs your waist, handling you as you sit scoot closer to his head.

“please? you smell so good and i want to devour you. i couldn’t forgive myself if i don’t.” soobin said as you bit your lip.

“i don’t want to suffocate you, soob-“

“you will not suffocate me. i’ll hold your hips up.” he nods his head, trying to convince him. your gaze continues downward as you see his length twitch, the blood pumping into it. you as you let out a nod before you sit on your knees.

“face my dick, darling.” he returns to command. you carefully hover above his face, placing your other knee on the other side of his head. soobin’s hands come to resting on top of your thighs as he drags you down. you let out a breathy moan as his nose tip grazes your lower lips, making you lean forward and rest your hand on his abdomen.

“just like that, yes.” soobin murmured as you lean your body more forward, almost meeting his curving long length. your body trembled when you felt something wet against your lower lips. you tried your best to turn around, yet your physique doesn’t allow it. your jaw slackens and moans come out in a quiet and timely manner. as his tongue moves around and he gives a suck on your clit.

you leaned forward and trail your hand up to his erect cock, a hum coming from him as the slurping sound continues. you wanted to focus on pleasuring him too. that’s when you catch the drops of pre-cum coming out of him. this turns him on. this is also a pleasure for him.

your thumb reaches for the tip of his dick as you rub the liquid down on the tip. your body wants to grind on his face because of how sensitive you are as he holds your thighs down, not helping you at all. you lean down and see how the liquid looks like a bead of pearl, letting the tip of your tongue touches his head as you picked up his muffled groan from between your thighs. one of your hands reaches to wrap around his member as best as you can—still as big as ever as you remember it with how there is a gap even in your hold. you lean forward more as soobin’s grip on you slacken to let you rest your tummy against his skin, trailing your tongue up from the base to the tip of his head.

“hmm… fuck…” you mumbled as something pierced through your lower lips before his tongue returned. his digit pushes in then pulls out in a small rhythm as you tried to follow it with the hand stroking his dick, resting your lips against his tip before you wrapped them around it, enveloping the very top of it as soobin continues.

the build-up gets higher and higher as time goes on. edging closer and closer.

your body quivers as he added another finger in, making you cum without even warning him. but soobin’s groan tells you otherwise as he devours your release. as he pushed deeper and scissors you to prepare for him, you swallow more of him as best as you can, the edge of your mouth hurting from stretching it so much. your tongue caressing the side of his cock as you felt it at the back of your mouth. when your gag reflex reacts, you pulled him out and focus on breathing as soobin enters one more finger.

“ahh, soob-“ you moan. your nails gripping his skin creating crescent-shaped marks on his thighs as you lean forward and help stimulated him. soobin’s muffled howl continues as you finally hear him clearly. his head leans back on the pillow as he finally let you focus on him.

“fuck. i need to feel you more,” he spoke, pulling you off of him as you place yourself beside him. your hand is still stroking his cock. his face tilts to you as you continue. the way the pre-cum falls and mixes with your saliva is perfect lubrication. your eyes gaze and meet soobin with the same lustful gaze looking back at you.

you move around and straddle his lap. your folds touching his exposed skin, caressing the side of his cock. sitting on it enough so it stays in between you and his abdomen.

“shit. you’re so beautiful,” he commented as you tilt your head and enjoyed yourself grinding on him. your face turns as you sensed the sensation of the caress before it lands on a mirror sticking to the door of his wardrobe. even with how small you are from how far it is, you can see how you look like. well, how unrecognizable you are with your melting eye makeup and smeared lipstick combined with saliva and drool, resembling soobin’s lips under you as he left a mark on yourself, staining your thighs with the color on your lips.

you gnaw your bottom lip as you hold yourself up with your knees, grabbing soobin’s length as he reaches his hands out to caress your thighs.

“i love you, soobin,” you murmured. fly high much more above the clouds.

“i love you too, (y/n),” he replied as his tip nudge your prepared core and you let it slip in you. soobin’s hands move to your waist as your body trembles. the familiar feeling you recognize will only subside if you continue. and how you want to continue because of him. only him.

you felt him deeper as you let your butt touches his thighs. the way his grip on you tightens as you hold yourself up, both of your hands on his chest now. his eyes looking at you with stars in them, the moon shining perfectly on the side of his face, with the lamp’s color combining into a beautiful hue. you let out a muffled whine from how full you are because of him. the desire scouring inside you makes you want to bounce on him. but as you prepare, soobin’s eyebrows furrowed.

“you’re okay with this? it’s been a long time since we did this.” his gaze is full of lust but also cautious, rubbing your butt as it trails to where he can trace your lower lips widening to let his cock in, making you squirm.

“i don’t want to hurt you.” his ever-changing demeanor makes you melt in his arm.

“i- i can,” you spoke, moving on him slowly as his hold moved to your waist. even with the slow drag of you lifting your hips up and down on his shaft, both of you enjoy it. his thumb reaches up and caresses your right nipple, making you move your hands to his shoulder as you lean forward, letting your hips move on his length.

soobin reaches for your fallen hair and pushes it away from your face, letting his palm cup your cheek as his thumb caresses your lips before he pushes it in. you moaned around his digit as you continue to move on him, feeling his tip right at the edge of your entrance before falling down onto him in quick succession.

“that’s right. you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled as you nod your head, sucking on his thumb as you felt the other one rubbing your clit.

“ah! fuck!” you squeal. soobin moves his free hand to your upper back to push you closer. his tongue pushes out and circles your areola before sucking one nipple. your head turns down to see him marking your breasts. his blond hair tickles your nose as you sniff it, smelling a faint wood scent as you are being stimulated by many things. his shaft filling you, his thumb rubbing your nub, and his tongue and teeth giving dark spots on your chest.

your hips faltered as you let out a louder moan than usual, facing the headboard as you breathe as best as you can.

“hold on to me,” soobin whispered as you lower yourself on him and looked at his face. your hands grip his muscled arms as he bucks himself into you. his heels on the mattress and knees touching your thigh as he thrust up into you. you let your body succumb to him.

“that,” you reach to hold his jaw. “fuck. that feels so good.” you moan as you stare at soobin’s smirk, a dimple on his cheek as he reaches his hand to pull your hair back.

“you’re clenching on me so good. make this pussy mine. made it just for me,” he mumbled before slackening his hold. your forehead touches his as you lean down and kiss him hard. your moans are muffled as he quickens his pace, breathing and groans mixing with each other. eyes only focusing on his face.

“you’re mine,” he spoke, changing his pace into a slower one, but he slams deep in one push. your spent body taking him in as it gets deeper and deeper. his hand rubs your lower stomach and pushes it, feeling his enormous cock inside of you.

“say it back,” he said with a lower register.

“i’m yours.”

soobin groans as he pushes himself up and sat up with you on him. he attacks your neck as he lifts your hips up, thrusting upwards as you felt your g-spot being hammered multiple times and becoming much more sensitive. your eyes gaze at the mirror, meeting soobin’s backside as his muscles contort to hold you and push into you. his lips take bites into your skin as your nails caress down the expanse of his back.”

“say it again.”

“i’m yours. i’m yours,” you mumbled those words like a mantra as soobin expertly moves your hips with just his strength. more marks bloom on your torso and your neck as your nails scratch his skin, claiming him as yours too.

you pull soobin’s head from your body as you face his determined and lusty face. his eyebrows furrowed as you trace it with your thumb.

“you’re,” a thrust makes you moan. “mine too, r-right?”

“darling. i’m always yours forever.” he gritted his teeth as he said that, more determined than ever as you push your lips to him. your mouth slotted open as he pushes his tongue with yours. drools fall out of the edge of your lips as you chase your high. his thrusts continue as you meet your hips with his with the energy you still have.

“fuck!” you shriek. “i’m gonna cum!” you warned him unlike last time as you pant along with him.

“cum with me. i’m following you,” he mumbles as his eyes glance straight to yours and nowhere else. your hand resting on his nape as you look at how purple soobin’s lips are from your lipstick, faint black streaks are there too from your melting eyeliner from swear and tears.

your mouth slacken as a loud pornographic moan came out of your voice, clenching onto his cock as your eyes roll back from the immense pleasure as you felt your cum gushing out. soobin’s thrusts faltered as he lets out a moan, your hands holding his face as he cums right after you. your inside is warm as he fills you up, pushing you down to fit him inside. but even with that, you feel both of your mixed cum leaking out of you.

both of your breathing match each other. the room is filled with your breathing sounds and sounds from you moving against him because of the moisture between your bodies. you can't hold yourself to let out a smile as you lean down and kiss him, seeing him by the beach with the sunset behind him as memories of him gushing into your brain. his hands caressing your back and trailing down your spine. foreheads sticking to each other as you let the atmosphere come down and seep into you.

you lean your body close as soobin hugs you tight on top of him. chest on chest. breath by breath as you let your eyes wander on his face. how both of you blend in with each other. how both of you are the same.

“stay with me.” his voice rings. a memory of yours rekindles, both of your feet on top of the leave-covered dirt of the forest.

“hmm?”

“stay with me. move in with me. we can live together. sleep in this bed together. cooking each other food. all of those domestic shit we can do together. we have the floor for us as our cave in neverland but i wanna be closer to you.” his tangent stops as you stare at him, your mind conflicting with the smaller voices in you. so small that it isn’t noticeable as the doubt gets bigger.

“i’ll keep you here by my side. safe. happy. until forever.” his eyes let out those same eyes you see back in neverland. soft yet determined. but something spoke to you in the back of your mind, indecipherable, but you note it.

“how about my plants? my other stuff? i can’t just let go of that after having it here for months.” you voice out the doubt as his lips pouted.

“you could always stay back to them. i’m not gonna stop you from taking care of your apartment. i want to see you wake up and go to sleep every day beside me,” he reassured, caressing your cheekbone.

“please, my darling?” he pleaded.

your furrowed eyebrows soften as you lean into his touch, and let out a hum as your mind finally made the choice.

“i’ll stay."

that sentence rings in your mind until it became subtle and vanishes into thin air.

you kept your word. you stay with him.

a month has passed since you agree. clothes moved to be put beside his in the wardrobe. apartment left unattended with only unneeded stuff inside and your plants you still take care of. the status of your apartment changes from a home and became more of a sanctuary, bleeding its influence of only the balcony to the inside of the clean and tidy four-walled rooms.

yet, even with you not living there, you promised yourself that you didn’t let it go. the evidence of your hard work ever since moving here will still be there. but the time you spent there isn’t as much as it used to be. you now live with soobin. and now, your apartment has become a secret garden just for you and sometimes for your friends too. if you remember it, you went. but a secret can also be forgotten.

another month has passed. moments upon moments between you, soobin and the others have become one-on-one similar to how all of you were in neverland. even you can see some similar physical traits between the others and the boys who you could now name from memory. yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun, and kai.

and yet, you don’t have that many human connections anymore outside of them. your other co-workers seem to ignore you even though they used to be friendly towards you. you used to take a break with them during lunch break—especially with aeri and jongho—but it changed. they seem to stare at you with caution and you don’t know why.

all of that becomes more prominent when you can’t seem to go outside without the other five with you. at least one has to stay by your side as soobin allows it. you trust them as you listened to stories of thugs bothering chaewon and suhyeon, making all of you promise to stay with each other and not go out alone. soobin kept his promise to keep you safe even if he always has to be beside you.

kook only talks small words to you at work. he gives no more ledgers for you to read after the incident. mingyu also greets you with a few words before taking care of his work. it was depressing to experience that, but when you come back to your new humble abode, soobin is always there to take care of you, either by cuddling you or pleasuring you in every inch of the living room.

and now, another month later, here you are alone on the balcony of soobin’s apartment as you see the light blue swallowed by the horizon; drinking your favorite gin and tonic with only a few droplets of it left. your mind is still reeling when you heard the news that he has laid you off from neverland. kook doesn’t even bare to tell you why and you wanted to guess it is because he is ashamed for the things he treated you to but months have passed since that. there goes your safety net.

“i’ll help you pay for your living costs,” soobin replied after you confide in his safety from the layoff, wetting the work dress that he still uses from the pub a few hours ago. you didn’t understand any better—non-city native playing the game to live in the city—so you confide with the people you trust, especially soobin.

and with you having no job and being under soobin’s care. you stay around the tower most of the time, helping the other four to clean their apartment units, buying groceries for the fridge and your “family” dinner at jihoon’s place, and taking an interest in drawing from the scrapbook you remember suhyeon gave you along side taking notes—resembling the few pages you’ve filled in from months before. you’ve tried your best to draw your friends, but you knew you could do more and so you continue with that, taking it as a full-time hobby, and might become a job opportunity too. besides, what is your other hobby you love and are passionate about other than drawing and journaling?

yet even within the six of you, you can’t relate to any of their struggles anymore. college, work, getting their own money, clubs, and many more. cause of it, you felt as if you are straying away. you wanted to connect more with them, but you don’t know how to connect it, especially with the other four and all the things they have that you don’t. you tried your best to reach out to them other than hanging out. you tried, but everyone seems to ignore you. no one answers your text in the group chat and no one answers your call until your data ran out. unless you’re the one replying to them, they never replied to you. it’s like you’re in a vacuum where no one recognized you existed. yet, you don’t know how to escape the bubble.

you’ve tried to confide in soobin again but he is busy focusing on his exams coming and you don’t want to bother him for something so trivial. if soobin is nearing an exam, the other four must also be doing that. and it makes sense if they ignore you. it just makes you feel more ashamed being so clinging.

yet, even with that, it doesn’t answer why’re you feeling weird.

it feels like you've fallen out of the world, realizing it doesn’t call or care for you.

sitting by the balcony with the near-empty glass, you consider sucking the lemon to have the taste of gin and tonic in your hand again. but if the drink you were drinking represents the world you live in—no matter how uncaring it becomes to you, you will not consume it and you rather leave the slice alone; just a tiny glimpse of what the world that you used to feel again. your phone is always near you as you waited for any notifications to come and ask for you, but no one reaches out to you unless it is necessary. you are now all alone as you could only look out to the unfamiliar view.

you’re forgotten by the world. and you just realize it now.

everything was normal. but what is this?

your vision is clouded by the sense of unfamiliarity with the view behind the fence of the balcony. but that is all you could do while waiting for soobin to get home from the college’s library for a study session with the others. the food you made is laid on the dining table that is meant for the two of you. the sun sinking down from this view is not the same as the one from your sanctuary.

your sanctuary.

an epiphany crosses your mind as you stare back into the living area straight to the front door of the apartment. how could you just remember it now? you should’ve visited there if you can. but the thought of that didn’t even cross your mind for the last month you’ve been living.

thoughts also clouded your mind as doubt comes in. doing the others’ services and taking care of them didn’t make time for you to even visit your sanctuary. you don’t want to lie to yourself, but is there a reason they made you forget?

the urge for you to stay being fought with the way your heart pushes you to go back to your place. rain hasn’t come since forever as you were under soobin’s sweet words last month. words full of love and care, even with his soothing gesture to calm you down as you got your last paycheck. words that let you cling to him as a rock and the way your other four friends lift you up too.

but it doesn’t feel right.

you push yourself up as you walk and walk, ignoring his pieces of furniture as you put the glass on the coffee table and you walked out barefooted. everyone was outside, no one can stop you now.

every conversation for the last three months is running in your mind. and you found a thorough line to it: everyone on this floor seems to stop you from getting back to your own apartment. hypnotize by a force to make you stay with soobin. and they succeed. they comment in bad ways but all of them have said the same thing.

“soobin will be disappointed.”

and you didn’t want to disappoint soobin. you didn’t want to disappoint your love.

but why should you visit your sanctuary disappoint him?

yet here you are standing on the door right next to it. the alarming beep rings into your ear as you tried your best to find a hint in your mind of what the passcode is—it’s been so long since you’ve been here. your mind buzzing with worrisome before a memory knocks on its door.

“the group chat,” you mumbled to yourself, recalling a message for all of your friends’ passcode in it. opening the chat, you type the right keyword as a list of six appears. the list of passcode for all six units on the floor. you stare at yours as you make out six digits that are so familiar.

the birthdate of grandma.

“grandma…” you mumbled. it’s been a long time since you hear the word too.

the hesitation comes as fast as a shooting star as all the memories that were pushed back of yourself and your home are pulled into the limelight once again. you put the passcode in as fast as you can before barging the door open wide as you see the glimmer of the sun still enter the room from the outside. hoping to look at your clean living room and area that you left.

but what you find is different.

vines crawling inside your living room on top of your couch and all over the tiled floor as they all are reaching towards the front door. but when you inspect them closer, you didn’t feel any sense of liveness from them. all of them are dry, crumbling under your touch. your feet carefully step between the empty spaces of the growing vines as you step into your sanctuary. the sky is still lit enough to see the leaves' silhouettes, but dark enough that you didn’t instantly notice that they lost their signature green colors.

your beige pants blend in with them as you turn yourself around, seeing all the plants in the pot have wilted. strong stems and leaves crinkle with no nutrients and water. their dried leaves under you every time you took a step—inspecting how badly you’ve treated them that they’re lacking on things to live. you picked up a small shake piercing through the sunset’s wind sound, shifting to detect the source from a daisy flower with most of its petals fallen on the soil. a gasp emerges as soon as you see it and you approached the flower. you touch its stem lightly—none of the green shows up on your fingertips.

“sprout?” you mumbled to it, eyes stinging as your vision blurred from the tears after seeing what happened to your precious plant. it waves its leaf to you—a small force from anything and it will fall. you pushed your might to make your green thumb back, to at least redeem yourself helped it after having it under your care for a long time—your first plant. but after the reduced usage of it for the past three months, you didn’t know it will affect your skill this way.

these plants were supposed to be under your care and you failed. your palm opens under sprout’s leaf and a small blow pushes the leaf to fall to join the composting petals, landing on your hand. the tears break out and streak down your cheek as the magical feeling of the sanctuary dims along with the sun down the horizon. your eyes trail the vines that have entered from the balcony door when you realized what they wanted to do.

they all wanted to reach for you. to come back. but their anatomical limitations failed them.

you failed them.

your knees buckle as you sat among the plants you promised to care for, their lives dissipating from you as you didn’t care about the soil on your fingers staining your cheeks. you rub your face to wipe the tears as your guilt cascades out of you. just realizing what your carelessness has gotten to them, and what the others have stopped you from doing. breathing becomes unbearable as your head hurts. that is until you felt something caressing your hair-covered cheek.

turning towards the source, you find a moth gliding next to you. its wings flutter as you can trail the intricate motives on it.

the garden tiger moth.

it flies into your open door of the unit as your eyes watch. the urge to make you follow the critter is pushing for you to stand up and observe what is it doing in your apartment.

you pursued its silhouette as best as you can but you realize how agile it is as it enters the bedroom quickly. when you approach it slowly, you see its shadow on the wall across from you as it lands on pieces of paper on the desk. pieces of paper that used to be the ledgers you get from kook. the last one was from the day of the incident.

stepping closer, you approach it as you met its white-colored back of the paper. your hands pick the paper up as you search for what is interesting on the paper before you turn it around. your eyes catching the numbers printed with scribbled notes. all of them are crossed out multiple times as you find one that is clean. weirdly clean,

“i have to tell (y/n)…“ you read it loudly to yourself.

“go on.“

your head lifts as you searched for the voice that sounded familiar but then find no one around except for you. your eyes continue scanning the paper you find now before returning to the stack of paper. he gave you more than one sheet that night, you recalled. you pick up another one as you flipped the paper over, finding it full of marker scribbles as a few of them are readable enough for you.

i’m here to tell you, (y/n)

please believe me.

you pick up another paper to examine readable writing that you need to decipher longer before you pick up more and one last one as you turn it around. words written crashing down the ink from the printer, the numbers swallowed by the black marker’s ink as you were met with a phrase.

soobin is not what he seems to be

“soobin is not what he seems to be.” the voice sounded once again as you look back up, still finding no one as you gathered the paper in your grasp.

“who are you?” you mumbled, sniffing your runny nose from the leftover emotions you let out. you walk around your room as you near the mirror you bought along with the wardrobe. walking past it and giving a small glance, you didn’t find yourself in your beige pyjama pants and soobin’s oversized t-shirt. instead, you were met with a figure wearing a long flowy white dress. you see them barefooted as specks of red are on the ends of the dress. letting your eyes trail up, you finally discover the figure’s face.

it’s you.

you jumped before stepping closer, seeing the moth now resting on top of your head before you see yourself smile.

“i didn’t think this would work.“ you see yourself speaking from the mirror, but you didn’t even move your mouth in real life, only your reflection. the moth landed on your head as you return to the frame.

“i’ve been watching over you ever since you lived with your grandma, darling.“ you put two and two together

“who are you? and are you the moth?”

“i’m you. well, you from the past life. where we flew to neverland with pan and meet the other boys.” you let out a small smile as you lean down to peer at the bloodied dress.

“well, yes, i am the moth that you’ve found where you were a child. the moth that visit you in your first day here. the moth that stays here at night to take care of you. it’s been fun befriending your ancestors. especially your grandma and mom.”

“you mean the butterflies?” you nod.

“it’s your family, all of them even outside of the monarch species. there is a reason your grandma said to you to spread your wings. she always knew your lineage is connected to the butterflies just like i do with the moths. similar but not the same.” your eyes are trying to read your face as you search for the right words to continue.

“she is so proud of you and everything you face. adulthood is hard and even i could say that when i didn’t even live past 20 years of age. but after what you’ve become from the last three months and how you left the plants alone. she didn’t visit as much. i was mostly alone trying to help the plants but there is not much you can do in a body of a moth.” hearing it, you stare down at the floor as the guilt pushes you, your movement heavy because of it.

“why are you telling me this?” you said, nibbling the inside of your cheek as you glance back at your reflection.

“though you have your memories back, not all of them are there. i’m here to help you open them. there is a reason you see me like this. there is a reason that your last moments with soobin were with you in his arms.” you showed the bloody dress and dishevelled hair.

“because of kook stabbing my back, right?”

you recalled the memory of it in your mind as you and soobin had a pillow talk. just another night for him and you to open up about yourselves and your memories coming back. that night, he mention how you died in his arms. how hook stab your back as he kidnapped you. your memory of that time was chopped into parts you don’t know how to assemble them. and even with you pushing yourself to remember, it’s not there and now you’re hurting yourself too much.

“no. we’re the one that is asking him to do that.”

what?

eyebrows raised, you stare at yourself as you see your reflection’s sullen expression.

“why is that?” you continue.

“i will help you but brace yourself. this is going to be painful. please close your eyes, (y/n).“

the tear pooling from your eyes falls as your eyelids close. lasting words echoes in your voice.

“trust me, (y/n). i am you.”

you heard waves and your body swaying, standing on a not-so-stable foundation. you tried to move your body when you lean back and met a sturdy beam. wooden creaks masked the crashing waves as footsteps come closer.

something lifts from your head as you grimace from the sunlight hitting you directly even with your closed eyelids. they’re blurry as you opened them. your head is pounding as the sun hits you when you take the salty smell. a specter standing before you as it slowly taken its more recognizable shale—a triangle shape on the top of human figure.

“good morning,” an familiar voice calls out to you. your gaze focuses on their tattoos peeking out of the sleeves before they rise to see the piercings decorating their face.

“who are- ah gosh!” you exclaimed from your aching head, looking sideways as you recollect your thoughts back one by one. the captain in front of you lets out a chuckle as you hissed away, shaking your bounded hands as best as you can.

“hope you had a good sleep. you being drunk last night makes our job easier,” the pirate answers as he stood still, seeing you recover yourself before your eyes focus on the moving commotion behind him. the pirate crews all are moving items here and there on the deck: tying the ropes of the sail, preparing gunpowders and cannonballs—your eyes travel above your head when you see the ripped sail from the mast you are tied to. all the pieces culminating in your head as the cogs in your brain move to put them into place.

that’s when it hit you.

they’re leaving. and they will be leaving with you.

“why am i here, hook?” you said with your gritted teeth, rubbing the rope against the wooden beam as best as you can. you knew that it might work as yeonjun taught you to cut a rope with a rock, even showing you how to do it when you helped him cut a trapped animal from one of the traps he use to hunt.

“that’s captain jeon to you, miss. i suppose because you live with those lost boys you called me ‘hook’ too.” the captain spits out as your gaze continues moving to observe the hectic ship’s deck. the urgency growing inside of you as you don’t know if you can conceal your hands from moving faster than they should be. the faster it will be, the better the chances of you returning to your commune.

but did you want?

“answer my questions or i’ll scream my heart out so the boy-“

“you’re here because you’re in danger!“

the captain’s words cut yours off to a halt. eyes narrowing as you stare at the captain, noticing the paper on his only hand with the arch of his hook nudging against your forearm.

“right as we want to talk with you about something. i heard you grumble to yourself about not being able to go home.“ the captain continues as your gaze on him is full of caution. but you don’t want him to know that when he spoke the words about going back home, you remembered your thoughts from last nights before going unconscious, even in the middle of the rum’s influence.

“we saw pan flying back from the other world holding a stack of papers. fortunately, a few of them were caught by the wind and fall to our area.“ hook looks down at the paper he holds before pushing one towards your vision.

“you couldn’t believe what we read.“ his words fade as you stare at the writings and a drawing on the paper.

MISSING

(y/f/n)

Description: Last seen in a white dress...

your eyes gaze down at the words before you stare back at the illustration above the name. a sketch of your face that resembles as close as you look. looking down once again, past the big words of where to report and the informations of your appearance, you see words written in cursive. an afterthought that someone might have wrote as you read the words one by one. eyes widen when you understand what is implying.

please bring our darling back.

your heart tugs within you making you bite your lip. the leftover emotions from last night come again as you look elsewhere, shaking your head to not internalize the words.

“how, how should i trust you that soobin brought this back here? you could be lying and made, and-“ your running thoughts stopped you from talking. your gaze returns back to the captain, seeing a slight frown in his expression before he looks away.

“mingyu, bring the other ones.“ hook spoke loudly to his first mate, mingyu, when you heard the wooden sounded behind you—the area of the upper deck you could vividly identify from memory. footsteps rapidly approaching where you were tied as you notice around ten more sheets of paper identical to the one the captain showed you in his hands. some of the ink streaks makes the words larger and some of them crinkled under the sun—must’ve been picked up from the ocean’s surface as you might guess from a sheet of paper falling from the sky.

you scoured the papers one by one as your breathing becomes short. finding the exact same information even to the small cursive writing that is littered in different areas of each posters. not believing what you figured out may be true before you even see scratchier handwriting that a child must have written—one of your youngest siblings.

“they’re searching for me.“

your thoughts from last night came back to you as your drunken rage determines you to make the choice of going home because of how lonely you are feeling. even after staying here for longer than you remembered, you still miss your family back home. you can’t help but be to envious of your younger siblings as your mother and father spare you, but that doesn’t mean that you hated their guts because they live. if the posters said anything, they’ve missed their oldest sibling too.

the thoughts reminds you back to soobin’s plea to make you stay. doubts still are within you as you wanted to go home before he tells you how much they don’t worry about you. how he told you stories of his own parents and why he now lives here with the boys. pan’s arms are around you as you cry your heart out from how much you miss them. the unfulfilled promise he still owes you that made you that drunk last night.

how he convinces you so much that you believe him.

“is everything pan told me a lie?“ you said with a resolute voice, the rage making the vase inside your splinter into smithereens as you can’t help but let the tears that were prickling your eyes out and stain your cheeks. the muscles on your face contort as you felt folds forming from how you frown and blare your nostril until it became numb to your nerve how sore it is.

“we- we don’t know, (y/n)-“ his voice got caught off as a familiar moth flow to land on the paper. a moth you remember staying by your pot of flowers by your windowsill. its wings flutter as you stare at it, vision got blurry as you covered them.

instead, you were greeted with a white fog as you gazed at an intersection that you recognized to be where your home is located. you were idle as you stare down to see the end of the paper gushing from the night’s wind. you’re seeing the road as part of the poster itself, sticking onto a pole while being blown by the light gush of the night’s wind.

that’s when you notice a shadow rushing around the lamppost across from you that you see also have the same posters. the silhouette gets clearer and clearer until you take in colors on a person right under the streetlight. the familiar outer garment turned into a white coat as did with his tattered pants became clean, but their unnaturally blond hair stood out.

pan.

soobin.

his eyes gaze at the poster right across the street from where you at as you see him ripping it off and tucking it beside his other hand—where you can see how thick the stack is. he does that multiple times on the posters on poles and beams, picking away other people’s effort to search for your whereabouts. and as he pulls them off more and more, you realized just how much he doesn’t care about your status to the people back at your home.

his mumbling voice gets closer to where you at before he’s standing in front of you. you couldn’t say anything even if you want to. at this state, you were the paper that he will be ripping from where they stick you in a few minutes.

shivers run down your body as you met soobin’s dark gaze while he stares at the poster—you. when you look down on his image, the sleeves of his white coat are littered with maroon petal-like patterns. too unnatural to be done by a tailor. you can even smell the iron-like scent exuding from the patches.

“this world doesn’t deserve you, my darling. you’re mine to keep in neverland. and i’ll do anything to make you stay.“ soobin monologues to the drawing of you; his cold demeanor is something you recognized from the first months you lived as his neighbor.

“if it means i have to kill the people that spread these posters,“ he said with his clenched teeth before ripping the paper off.

the sound of it rings in your ear as you heard the rustling of trees from the shore beside the pirates’ ship. your gaze returns from the leaves as you see your bloody self between the captain and his first mate as you gave a nod.

“we need to get out of here.“ you find your resolution as you were met with a saddening gaze of yourself before you perceived something surging in your body. an alert of some sort playing in your head as your vision returns to the forest. the trees are moving from above, the branches getting tighter to form a barrier of some sort. that is until you feel something hurting you from the inside in a form familiar to a lightning strike, quick in succession. a few more painful slashes you felt within you as you can feel plants losing their links to you. all the plants that you have connected with throughout the island is telling you the same thing as more and more hits come to hurt you.

“he’s coming. pan is coming.“ you said with your might as strong as you could, holding the pain inside to not let the pirates panic. hook’s eyes widened along with mingyu before the captain commands his mates to hurry up. a slap on the skin is what you felt when the island’s plants are being cut off one by one, all of them are there to protect you and to let you leave with the pirates as fast as you can.

the captain is turning around when you call, “captain jeon.“

he turns towards you as your limp body leans forwards from exhaustion. but you held your head up high as you said to him, “if he comes closer to me, i want you to kill me with the dagger i brought.”

you knew about the dagger’s disappearance as you felt how light the sheath of it wrapped around your thigh. you remember it falling from your grasp when you wanted to attacked who kidnapped you. and so, you knew that they have it their possession. it will be a haunting memory for the boy to see if he is not careful enough.

“what do you mean, miss-“

“you know what he is capable of.“ you sniff your runny nose as the emotions are pouring out of you. “he won’t stop until he gets me back. and i rather die than be with his manipulative self.“

your vision reverts as you stare at yourself in the mirror. the weights on your words echoes in your thoughts as you finally recalled the whole truth that is also hurting yourself from within you. fists clenched as you try to bare it.

“then soobin came flying to the top of the ship’s deck with a machete. slashing every crewmate that fought for us before his powers explode around the human barrier.“

your eyebrows furrowed, listening to you talking as the exact memory is playing into your head. on how you tried your best to look away at the brutality and the truth of the boy you love so much. you soothe yourself from the pain in your head for learning the ultimate truth. a force within yourself is pushing back on something powerful to make you not remember. something that must have come from a being as strong as pan.

“blood and flesh splatter everywhere as soobin approaches us. he had a manic look in his eyes before untying us. i was numb in wretch and disgust for the boy i love to be as ignorant to other people. the blood of the crewmates stains our white dress as he hugs us. but you remember what i said to hook, and we felt something pierce through our skin from the lower back. the dagger he gave to us.“

you stare at yourself as you were given a bird's eye view of your memory. you remembered mentioning the dagger you talked about with soobin before he was being put off of it. but you called him out about his pocket knife as he immediately reply with “i don’t have a pocket knife.” something that makes you squint your eyes as you remember a certain swiss army knife in his possession.

your memories continue to play in your mind as you see yourself slump on the deck where you see soobin being held back by captain jeon. the pain surging through your body and your head getting heavy from the blood loss. that’s when soobin hits hook in the stomach before reaching for you, wrapping your weaken body near his own.

“i almost spoke our last words to him before death comes to pick us up in his arm as we lose so much blood, staining his already bloody hands to add more to his kill list.“ you continue to tell.

“i…“ your voice is so little only he could pick up. soobin’s tears fall on his cheek as your life fades away.

“you know what i wanted to say to him as i died in his arms?“ your old self asked as you stare at her in the mirror.

i love you?

i’m sorry?

those were what you thought before you hear the actual answer.

“i won’t forgive you.“

the words caught you off guard as you make sense of it. for sure, that is what you will say to him after everything that is done between you and him on that forsaken island. his restrictions to you to visit home even when he flew there to do his errands, his hold on you so tight that he won’t let you go until he needed too. the way he trusted the boys to take care of you, to be your guard in both positive and negative way. and also, the other beings on the island hating you might be one of the evidences of that—he doesn’t want you to be close to other beings.

“why didn’t these memories come to me when i remember?” you muttered as you stare at yourself, seeing the sagging of your shoulders as a tear dropped from your eyes.

“you don’t know. i know you don’t because soobin did something to stop you from remembering that.” you give a solemn smile.

“i was given a chance to see myself and neverland for the last time before death take me away to the afterlife. that’s when a sudden burst came from him. it killed those on the ship: hook, yeonjun, taehyun, kai, and beomgyu who arrived at the beach, and more people that i knew won’t have a chance to live because of his first outburst. but it is bigger in scale than i thought.” you inspect the blooming trauma in your eyes before continuing.

“every living being on the island was dead because of him and his selfishness. and it turns neverland into a lush island full of crimson.” you let out a frown, continuing to listen.

“so he take our dead body to the island’s deity’s altar and beg for it to give him a second chance to be with us, but he failed.”

your legs wobble, especially from the known information about him as you hold on to the mirror’s frame. how can he be so cruel to other beings? he is the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. but now, you don’t know if what he told you is the truth or not. what his actions is really from him or just something he want to portray to make you believe him.

“that’s when he purposed something. he’ll get us back and rip our memory of bad things involving him and our captivity by his side. in return, he gave up his powers, immortality, and the neverland island.”

“he’s immortal?” you then got a reply with a hum.

“all of the lost boys are immortal, especially with his responsibility to be the imaginary friend to children who is scared to grow up. he never wanted to do that in the first place, right?”

he never wanted to grow up. that’s true. all the lost boys never wanted to grow up beyond 18. beyond the cusp of adolescence and childhood. maybe he wanted you to be like that too, but you were mortal and you were knew to the place. the other boys got killed by his powers—maybe his power set transcends immortality.

“‘the great pan is dead’ was what everyone was chanting as he sacrifices himself. i watched from the nearby tree with clenched as the island lost its protector; all of them not knowing that he is sacrificing them too, just to get you back.”

and that’s why you’re back with your ability to connect with plants coming naturally—your gift of loving them back your home is embraced by the island’s magical rules. the lost boys are back but not in the same body. hook and his first mate is back and so are the pirate mates who are your other co-workers in the pub. maybe there were even more people like you back then who had elemental powers on the island. maybe they are there but soobin’s selfishness holds you back to discover and learn from them.

but what you are disappointed about yourself is how you can easily believe him after all of that. and now you’re here, getting back into the same cycle when he even made you forgot to take off the plants that you have promised to yourself, especially daisy sprout who you have been given since you were child living with your grandma. you didn’t have any choice to fight against the forces that pushes you to forget, before you helped by uncovering the truth.

“how about the rumors about kook at the pub?”

“it’s false. he might be the only other person to realize the reincarnation. the poor man was having paranoia as he tried his best to approach you and tell you about this as fast as you can. he forces himself into his subordinates’ vicinity so that they can remember about soobin. his hoarding of the money for the ingredients is his pirating tendency going on. but after that incident at the locker room, he might not even be sane with your layoff—wanting to get rid of you for his and his crews’ safety.” you sounded, rambling about the information as if you witness it yourself—maybe you did and that’s why you can articulate it so well.

“some foul play might also happen that even make you more dependent on pan. i would guess that he even convinced the two owners to let his rotational shifts be with you most of the time.” you continued as your mind runs in hyper-speed, connecting the dots one by one.

you breathe heavily, head in your hands as you try to soothe yourself as best as you can. but it’s not working. doubt always comes in like someone spying on you and you rid yourself of the mirror.

“what should i do?” you ramble on and on the same words, walking out of your room as your legs buckle and make you fall on the dead plants. your emotions are overwhelming you so much that it pains your body.

your body curling into a fetal position is natural for you. you let your tears wet the dead floras that you let down. breathing becomes hard as you hug yourself, regretting everything about the life you had now. the moth crawls on your figure as you heard yourself mutter sweet words to encourage you.

what should i do?

you sensed another thing on your skin as you open your eyes to stare at the hand in front of you, laying on the bed of leaves. you see a monarch butterfly moving about on top of your hand. one that exudes such a familiar aura as you can’t help but to greet it.

“grandma…” you muttered. it turns to face you.

“let us help, darling.” you heard the familiar timbre echoes to you.

more shadows of winged insects enters your balcony as they all land on you. yet, you don’t feel ticklish, you embrace them. they open their wings to protect you like a shield, covering your body from danger, temperature-wise or maybe physical danger.

as more of the lepidopterans rested on your body, more information came to mind. a highway of them built up as quickly as it can as you gather the information in your brain and process it as fast as you can. you couldn’t articulate each and every one of them but a few through lines were made: how everyone in this city is a reincarnation of every being on the island. sirens, fairies, and other beings you aren’t close with back on the island, even if you push yourself to before they pushed back. you find the fact more reliable as more moths gathered and introduce yourself to your network of information. most of them were the beings in the previous lives on the island. their apologies reverberate in your mind, them not being there with you.

“pan said awful things about you that we can’t help but believe. now we know we were wrong. he was trying to make us stay away to keep you all to himself.”

they all rested on your figure as you sense something wrapping around your forefinger. your eyes glance down as you see glowing green shining from beneath, repairing the dead plants as they move to wrap you around and even grow flowers for the insects to help, spreading life and information.

you are connected with both of them.

“how can we help?” you heard you ask, the garden tiger moth hover near your face as your antennae moves to capture what you were going to talk about.

“if what the moths said are true, that all of the people here are reincarnated from neverland too. we will deliver them a message. the truth. stealthily.” you sounded as resolute as ever, a tear falling from the corner of your eyes and landed on the plants that are healing themselves.

your antennae move as it receives your command. the critters and the plants now joining under your command as they surround you like a cocoon—finishing your metamorphosis.

for about two months, you dwell on your task to deliver the people of the city a message. the truth about their existence and the cause of the world they live in. butterflies and moths work in tandem to uncover the memories suppressed by the brain and the force that also holds you back. and every time you succeed, the plant life will overgrow and tackle the glass and/or concrete walls.

acting on intuition is becoming such a normality for you ever since everything changed, especially when it comes to your matured abilities. knowledge is coursing through your brain from the pieces of information you get, sending them to your plants to store and sort. getting even stronger with every overgrown plant that has grown because of people knowing the truth.

you play soobin well for someone that has been untruthful about your well-being in the past few months now, decorating his apartment unit better with a few trinkets that remind you of him and neverland. all of that is to not let him sniff the stronger flower scent exuding from you, the flower scent that might have been with you all this but elevated as your influence grew stronger.

waking up late at night is now a habit of yours. you crawl away from soobin’s arms and greeted the lamp-lit living area before you go to the balcony. you used to only gaze at the nightlife that is happening but now; you let your arm out across the barrier. the time to wait doesn’t take as long as when you started when an eclipse of moths gather and land on the length of your arm. the overflowing news makes you close your eyes. they dash behind the lids: gathering all the information that benefits you before you send them out once again. the prickling sense on your skin still lingers as you return to soobin’s sleepy figure in your shared bed.

“can’t sleep?” someone asked, startling you. you find the boy you were thinking of sitting up against the bed’s headboard, his blond hair in disarray. even from the entrance of the bedroom, you can see him squinting his eyes. goosebumps unconsciously form on your skin.

“ah, yeah… i went to get a drink.” you blatantly as you stepped closer, gnawing the inside of your cheek as you approach him. he didn’t greet you with his usual small smile before you practically kneel on the mattress as you crawl closer. he grabs your body into his, something so natural to him. a searing kiss follows as you reciprocate the best you can, feeling his tongue trying to push in between your lips as you reciprocate. soobin leans away as you breathe heavily before he sniffs the crook of your neck—the hickey he gave you just hours ago is still burning your skin.

“you smell like a bouquet of flowers more and more,” he mumbles. you can’t help but rub his blond hair, giving a hum as he continues to sniff your accented scent. yet your gaze tells otherwise. if one can see, they recognized that worrisome is growing in you.

even though you are trying your best to not question the changes in things that occurred and settle into your “new life” that is nagging you, you’re worried that soobin seems to figure something out. a day could pass and a new piece of information can change your standing. soobin might be glad you’re not as curious as you were back in your previous life, but you exchanged it with how meticulous you are now.

why does this bother you? that’s because soobin never wakes up while you’re awake to receive your messages and each time that has passed, he is getting more aware—exceptionally faster than the first month of operation. you can figure it out with how tight he holds you more and more, then how much he marks you as his on any occasion he can, even in visible areas so people could know you are his. the ring of messages is approaching the campus area you lived in and his awareness seems to get more explicit every minute.

but didn’t you like it that he holds you like his world? should you?

you rub his blond hair as he drops on the mattress along with you. his hands wrapping and pushing your torso to his so it stays close. you felt him nibble on the skin of your neck, which makes you let out a breathy moan before he murmured.

“wake me up if you’re gonna leave the bed. i don’t want to be left alone.”

your vision stares at the sunken pillow as you slip away from him before giving him a long kiss. his lips linger on yours as you give a small hum before resting your head on his chest. shifting your head to the side, you couldn’t hold back the guilt and disgust showing in your facial expression.

with your ability to know everything, you, the plants, and the lepidopterans work together to gather intel whilst you gave out the message. and as the edge of the city is successfully influenced in one try—letting the plants grow and fight the city itself. but as it comes closer to the campus area and your tower, the stronger the force to make them not remember is going, making you have to do more than one visit to each person. and you hated that it could let your critters get damaged, how you can even sense the minuscule pain from them just because they got slapped away for being too close.

after waking up from the cocoon, you felt more potent than ever when you see the chlorophyll green trails along the beds of your fingertips before arriving at your knuckles as you use more and more of your ability. the flower scent coming from you is getting more prominent in every iteration of new information, new messages successfully carried, and new buildings occupied under your supervision of spreading plants.

every time the whole five of them left the tower to do what they were doing—classes, their shift at the bar, et cetera; you returned to your sanctuary and only your sanctuary. you changed your passcode to something only you know. opening the door, you are greeted by the growing vine that is a few meters away from your door, a glow of green running about like ocean waves that illuminate your living area. your home became so lush that it inspired you to draw them in your notebook. the plants instead elevate your pieces of furniture so that it gives out a new aesthetic. and every time you return, you immediately rid yourself of the dirt-covered clothes so the others couldn’t suspect you of returning to your apartment, especially because of soobin’s biased opinion on what you can and can’t do that still makes your fist clenched.

you let your head rest on soobin’s chest as you can hear his heart thumping beneath you in a steady beat. calming you as you close your eyes, receiving many signals from the spreading insects and plants that help spread your message: to make them think intuitively and to make them remember the neverland island.

receiving so much news about people thanking you is overwhelming, to say the least. hearing their call of missing neverland and who they were made a bubble inflating inside you about how they could have just lived their lives without pan intermingling them into his wishes. how he took their lives away from them just so he has you back again. you thought the overgrown plants will receive complaints from around the city, but with your now-connected hive mind, you realize just how much they missed the greenery and the whole atmosphere of the island. because they aren’t weird, they are part of your lives.

you kiss soobin’s pouty lips goodbye as you see the others waving with their hands holding their various styles of bags before all of them step into the elevator to do their days full of classes and work around noon. as you heard the moving machinery carrying them down the tower, your smile falters as you paced to your apartment and press in your new passcode.

the glowing greenery decorates the entire apartment as you stepped inside, seeing the flowers and vines growing around with butterflies and moths resting on them as they turn to greet you in their own way. you pull off your slippers as you strode onto the bed of leaves that formed in your home, letting the plants welcome you as you let your refreshed energy transfer to them. your eyes transfixed on the large wall behind your couch full of vines bordering its side and smaller stems connecting in the middle of a large open patch. the plants illustrate an intricate map of the city, the vines growing slowly as your messages continue to be successfully sent from the edge to the center of the map: where you reside. where the resistance is the strongest.

the patch is slowly getting covered as you can identify the recognizable layout of the campus area. a small flower pinpoints the epicenter of the influence before it’s complete. you observed the vines approaching the block where the neverland pub stands, only in a few hours that their occupants will understand the truth.

kaleidoscopes of butterflies and eclipses of moths gather under your unspoken command before flying away to deliver your message, to make them remember who they are in the past and what their guardian did for the sake of himself. more of them left and come back to aid in your revenge as you isolate yourself for hours n a meditative state as the sun passes the threshold of the afternoon approaching sundown. very different from the isolation that soobin gave you. you’re more alive.

your bedroom is mostly left untouched by the growing vines as you walked inside it, replacing soobin’s clothes he told you to wear with your own overalls and a shirt that is grandma’s hand-me-down. you felt more like yourself with it, but you don’t know if you are yourself given the consequences of who you are. you aren’t the innocent (y/n) that first arrived at the city, but you are not the (y/n) that the lost children are trying to portray. the new isolated adventure you have indulged in has created a new you, resilient and intelligent.

however, when you spot the music box soobin gave you on your desk, your foundation makes new cracks. what will happen to him after all of this? you still care for him but you learned that by doing this, you might indulge his dangerous self more and more. his childish, possessive self that claims you like a toy in his possession. pan has good in him when he volunteers to be the island’s protector, but he should know that nothing lasts forever in reality.

maybe this detour adventure of yours will let him and you see who both of you truly are.

you picked up the music box and open it to see the recognizable siren song playing in an orgel-like style. the melody and harmony twinkle into your ears. you hold the music box and place it on the dining table as you look at the boulder with the siren spinning. your thoughts return to that incident by the beach where pan and the lost boys helped naïve you to fight the siren song. soobin’s eyes spoke so many things as the influence died down, but only now could you recognize an underlying rage in it. maybe he had that rage since he was a child, and that is why he can’t fully let go of his childhood.

your phone that is tucked in your pant pocket rumbles against your thigh. your eyes gaze at the open balcony door to watch another group of critters enters and exit from the sanctuary. pulling it out as you pushed the melody of the orgel away, you glance at the screen to find the name you didn’t expect. kook.

“hello?” you answer the call, eyes glancing sideways as one moth landed on your hand.

“(y/n), i’m sorry for laying you off. i-“ you heard the men sigh. “i’m sorry to worry you that much and for the papers.”

the moth confirmed what your suspicion is. “we have got through captain jeon.”

“thank you for making me remember.” he lingers on his last words a second too much before the line is cut. your eyebrows creased when you gently drop your phone onto the table beside the music box. you see the vines climbing up the table’s feet and intertwining with both of the items. your head turns towards the wall when you detect the greenery has reached where the campus is, already covering the location of the pub as it crawls faster towards where you are.

you should be glad, but his lingering worries you.

the end is near for your two-month journey of establishing the truth. the plants grow from your might as your worries making them glow in the early evening. your skin has an underlying tint of green that is climbing up to your elbows in the shining sun that is sinking. the strength to push is tiring. but you want to say that all of them deserve to rest knowing the unjustness they’ve faced, including yours.

you move to rest your hand against the fence that separates you from the outside, gazing at your doing that you can detect only a few meters away, approaching the tower you live in. greenery stands out from the grey concrete as the sky becomes darker, sun shining on them giving out a trim highlights to the dull buildings. some plants travel slowly but some are fast—some even make the already available grass patches more lush as you see from the campus yard from where you stand. yet nobody questioned it as you watch small specks of shadows flying about, landing on one person before flying away. you assure them through the critters that it is normal, they’ve seen it neverland. that they should be grateful for nature because, without it, a species might not survive.

but doubts come back once again—ethically. is what you’re doing too much?

you have let revenge and justice push you to act against what soobin has done to you and you let the world pay for it. the world he made so you could be together. so what if you destroy it? destroy him? just one shot and you can make it, but will finishing this take away your humanity too?

you didn’t pick up the frantic footsteps outside of your apartment before you heard the beeps from the incorrect passcodes entered. exhaling your breath as the green light radiates more of the room each second, you turn towards the small monitor that list up when you heard bangs on the door.

“darling!” you recognized the familiar tone muffled with the door. glancing at the monitor, the blond hair peeks from beneath the screen as he is getting more and more desperate, trying to break the door away if he could. beeps replacing the sound of air as you stare at the door with an empty face, approaching it with the hint of green still left on your forearms.

with a small click of the door and a small gap between you and him, soobin pushes and immediately captures you in his arms. the casual street-style black outfit he wears for class today is in shambles as he cups your face. you were met with a frantic, noisy face full of many emotions where you could identify two that stood out. rage and panic.

“(y/n), darling,” he calls as you remain in your blank expression, pushing your emotions elsewhere to your plants and influence so they could grow even under these circumstances. but even deep inside you, you’re trembling—one slight change and you can break down in his arms once again. your heart is beating under your skin as you push with your might. you felt one vine travel up your overalls and wrapped around your finger when your body suddenly moves from soobin’s hold as he pushes you behind him.

the sound of a rip cut through the vast air in the room as you caught a silver of his expression change from the boy before you were being pushed back. your expression instantly changes when you see him brandishing the swiss army knife he had to cut the growing vines that are closing to both of you when before he cuts them off in a swift motion, hurting you too. you hold on from groaning in pain as you listened to the ripping sounds and hurting voices within you, pushing yourself up to watch soobin cuts the sentient plants more and more. hands wrapped around his front, you hold him back with your strength as best as you can. yet, he didn’t stop even if you might claw his skin off.

“let me go! let me fucking go! they’re influencing you, darling!” soobin screams as you put all your weight to the floor to stop him from moving, wincing in pain as he gets a few slashes on them because of his long and unrestrained limbs.

“these plants deserve me more than you.” you spit out as he continues to try to move even under your grasp. looking away to focus on holding to him, you didn’t see soobin pulling something out of his pant pockets when you hear the sound of a click. a familiar click.

“i knew i should have burned these plants when i helped you move them here.” eyes widen from his doing, you watch the lit lighter dropped onto the bed of leaves in front of both of you as they ignite—combining the few dried materials along with your flammable apartment parts. you could feel them aching from within you. the moths and butterflies are flying to get to you, but they’re caught by the fire and its crackle that flew as it spreads.

your eyes glance at your fallen friends as you let go of soobin, pushing him away as you stare at your work all being demised. the walls started to burn as you can’t bear the pain, making your legs buckle under you as you rested on the patch that are unlit. you still sense the slashes from the pocket knife as an underlying pain, seeing soobin doing so—the cold demeanor returning to him with an expression of satisfaction.

“STOP IT! YOU’RE HURTING ME!” you yelled, curling your head into your hands. peeking between your fingers, you see soobin pausing his movement before turning around, approaching you with his hand tight around the handle of the knife.

“you should’ve never gone back here. i told you so.” his timbre is unrecognizable.

“and for what? punishing me? stopping me to know the truth about us? about you?” you shouted back as you lift your head and stare at him. the heat of the fire is surrounding both of you as you see the vines turning into ashes, reaching for you so that they could stay alive.

“you sacrifice everything back in neverland to have me back and yet you didn’t tell me the whole truth about what you’re doing on that ship. how could you?” you shake your head as you felt sorry for how he manipulates your thoughts about captain jeon from his recalling. how he also manipulates your perception of kook in this life.

“you could’ve just brought me back to let me meet my parents-“

“they won’t fucking believe you’re alive after you went missing for months, darling.” your breath hitches as he kneels to get closer to you. “you’re mine. no one deserves you more than me. and if i brought you back, they’re gonna claim you back.”

“because they are my family, soob-“

“and if they did so, you’re not going back to me. i know it,” he continued. his jaw is tight as he tilts his head. his eyes pierce into your trembling soul. “i rather ignore your wish instead so you’ll stay with me.”

“you’re fucking cruel. fucking selfish,” you spoke behind your gritted teeth. one stem seems to crawl out to you as you place your palm on them, trying your best to heal them. but it was too late as you felt the life dispersing from it, because of the fire that spreads too fast.

“i’ll do anything to get you to submit to me. that also means hurting you. those plant powers of yours shouldn’t work to fight against me. they are neverland‘s powers, to begin with.”

you almost wanted to believe him where your mind is scrambling to find the right words to say against that. that’s when you remember a memory of yourself in your past life, long before meeting pan and him taking you to neverland.

you miss seeing stains on your dress from playing at the park where fancy-looking people also enjoy themselves, trailing down a path full of beds of flowers as you grazed your fingertips against their petals, feeling them coil to the touch. how only on this island that you can touch them again and they reciprocate by wrapping their petals around your fingertips; missing you, as if they learn about you from the plants you sightsee back home.

no. the gift you have isn’t neverland-owned unlike pan’s. yours were there in the first place. even in another life, you still have it. your grandma has the same gift as well. you being in neverland only enhanced it. pushing it more than your capability. maybe there were people like you who has those gifts too, on the island or not.

at the realization of that, you sensed something bloom inside you. it tickles you as you see the familiar green glow exuding in your veins before collecting in your palm. you push it against the floor as it is lit with a dim green glow beneath the orange flame. your energy being transferred one last time to get the grasp of the plants that are hurting to help you. to sprout who you can feel is still alive somewhere in this room. to the butterflies and moths who are there to deliver your message. the souls inside them, your ancestors, the reincarnations, and your old self.

you let out an exasperated laugh, “yet you didn’t count for this, huh?”

pushing yourself up, you stumble on the patch as the fire steps closer to your skin. rising above the flame, balls of fire also float out of the surrounding fire. their flames dispersed and you finally saw the small bodies of the butterflies and moths that were with you in this room. the wings replace with flames as you command them to go away from your apartment and spread the message. more passionate than ever while you face the being that causes this world and city to appear.

“that is impossible,” he muttered under his breath before seeing you let out an unnatural smirk. dark green shade blends in with the skin on your arm.

you replied, “nothing is impossible in this world you made. pan.”

your clothes were burnt on the edges as the plants create a path for him to come close, reminiscent of the bubble wrapping that litters the floor on your first day here.. the charcoal-colored vines pull him in as you stand face to face. you would gladly beat him, but punching isn’t your best skill as you remembered back from training with him on the shore of the island.

“i should be like the darling in the fairytale book about us. leaving neverland to grow up, letting you stay as their guardian. now you brought me here to this fucking hell hole to be with you. you who-“ your voice is strained as you let out all the pent-up rambles that have travelled inside your mind for months.

“you who don’t even respect me for who i am.” you pursed your lips and shake your head.

“i was protecting you. your family aren’t as different as mine back in that life. i have to live with them again twice before i push myself to lash out and get my inheritance from them early. you know what they are like. and even if i brought you back to them, do you believe they care?” soobin argues back when you caught a small implication between him and his parents that made you angrier, shaking your head in disbelief.

“you didn’t even fucking see the small sentence written on that poster. they do in that life. in this life, they also do. grandma does and always will care for me even until her last breath. and if you say what you’re doing is caring for me. you’re fucking wrong!” you shouted, clenching your fist as you hold on. your head is swaying because of how much you are exerting, but you drive forward.

“nothing in this world is black and white, darling. look at what you’ve done. and you didn’t even stop it.” soobin opens his arms as you gaze around. the flame that was only burning the room now ignites the ceiling and your floor—hurting the tenants above and below you who aren’t supposed to be involved. your vision lands on the building across from you. the building that is full of plants make holes in the wall as you see leaning because of the lack of foundation. because of your influence to let them recognize that nature will beat concrete and it endangers the people in them.

“i’m doing this so i can have a chance with you once again. you know you want to when you asked me the exact thing on the island.” soobin approaches you as you turn around to face him. his countenance mirrors yours, who has tears running down your cheek.

“you promise me an adventure in our previous life.” you swallow your breath and stabilize yourself as best as you can. “yet you kept me like an animal in a zoo. you kept me in this beautiful paradise of a cage and limit me from anyone.” your glare spears through to his barrier. yet he throws his face away and scoffed.

“then stop spreading the plants to make it better. you’re hurting people.”

“you hurt ME.” you pointed your finger to your chest as you stepped forward. “and you hurt them too when you sacrifice them to get me back.” you rubbed your hands against your hair, wanting to rip them off your scalp.

“these plants and my ability to connect with them help me stay sane back on the island. the same thing is happening now.” you step back to fully look at him as you continue. “i know that every person in the city is related to neverland. every siren and mermaid i never met. every fairy and magical being on that island that loathed me under your manipulation so i could stay with you. with what i’m doing, i’m telling them the truth, soobin.”

tilting your head, you sniff away your runny nose and let the tears streak down your skin. the flame produces the burnt smell you recognize. pan stood in front of a fire that frames him and it could be interpreted in two ways: the bad guy trying to keep things wrong or the good guy trying to make things “right”. and you are conflicted because of that.

you understood, deep down, you might be a lost cause. even with all the effort that you do to do justice for the people in the city—even jaemin, chaewon, suhyeon, and jihoon who are under his command—, you don’t know if you could find justice for yourself. because soobin has a special place in your heart.

he was the boy that found you at your lowest and helps you build yourself up. he was the same boy that keeps you safe with the adventures you, him, and the lost boys had. he was the most explicit person to show you how much he cared for you. without him and his selfishness, he might not give you and him a second chance. you might not meet your grandma without that second chance. you might not have these grand adventures with the lost children without it. and like what grandma reminded you: life is an adventure, no matter how planned or unplanned it is.

and you knew you only had one choice to end this. the one way that you and pan, the catalysts of all of this, will be satisfied; even if he’ll like it or not. besides, if he could be selfish, you could too, right?

your face held a stern expression of resolute, a mixture of emotions sprinkle in them to help you more. putting your foot carefully one after the other, your body is now inches away from touching his, eyes gazing at his who is frantically looking all over your face. trying to read the complicated message you’re letting out.

“if you want me to stop this.” you nip your bottom lip, hesitating to continue as the stake of what you’re doing. yet you pushed forward.

“if you do love me, let me go. let yourself go.” you reach for his right wrist and wrapped it with your hand.

“without the powers. without the memories. just you and me. let’s start over.” his previous gaze at you becomes large, facing you who has a determined expression.

“grow up, soobin.”

you pull his right wrist and rise it up before plunging the pocket knife into your chest. the pain you’re feeling is familiar to your body, because of what you get from the previous life and the aching your heart felt with every revelation. yet, the pain helps you subside everything as you can see the blooming maroon color coming from your chest.

soobin frantically tries to hold your limping body with his free hand as comfortably as he can. your grasp on the knife’s handle didn’t let go as you pull it out of your chest before pushing it into soobin’s. both of you taking part in killing one another.

you expected to see a look of disgust when he grimaced at the pain, but a smile formed on his face. his eyes shine with the light of the flame reflecting it. you also followed with your own smile as you stare at the red handle of the knife that shines along with the flames mirroring light. soobin’s eyes stare at you with his signature eye smile. you glance at the darker patch on his black t-shirt and the tool that causes it.

“i always knew that it was my pocket knife. no wonder i never found it here,” you mumbled as you and soobin buckled and landed on the floor, hands holding onto each other. he’s still strong enough to let out a chuckle.

“i was trying to-“ he cleared his throat, “to not let this happen again. yet here we are.”

“here we are indeed,” you reply. under the crackling of the flame, you didn’t hear the banging door of your apartment as you recognize the sound of your friends behind it. it’s admirable for them to still come and try to get you out even in this burning building. but with a look exchange between you and soobin, you know both of you won’t survive this.

soobin moves his hand and pushes your body to his, embracing you for the last. your blood staining his shirt along with his blood on yours. your eyes stare one last time at the burning plants around you as you see a familiar silhouette of sprout, its petals burning as it lets you carry on.

“i’ll see you on the other side, pan,” you mumbled to his ear, letting the flame consume both of you as you almost didn’t catch his whisper.

“see you on the other side, darling.”

you step out onto a smaller train station from where you left as you embrace the air of the town. the suitcase you drag has a duffel bag on top of it while you sling another carry-on in one arm and a backpack on your behind. all you need to do is contact the number you kept.

you did so as you walked around the abundance of people that also step out from the same train as yours. all of them forming a line that you follow to the exit. putting your phone by your ear, you heard the beeps as your call is going through the noisy invisible waves. eyes open wide as you try to see the person you’re calling.

when you step outside, you caught someone calling your name. you couldn’t help to let the smile out as you face them.

“mr. jung!” you exclaimed, trailing away to the man as he comes and wraps his arms around you as best as he could with the luggage you carry. letting you go, he helped you carry pieces of your luggage into the boot of his van.

it trails down the road as you glance at the town you left after grandma passed away. but you always knew you returned here. that’s how much you miss her.

“how’s your detour in the city?” mr. jung asked you as your eyes stare out of the window.

“it was eventful, to say the least. i spread my wings like what grandma asked me to.” you heard him chuckle as he drops something on your lap. it glimmer under the sunshine when you take a peek.

“you were lucky there is one more condo empty when you needed my help. i knew your grandma would want you to live in a smaller residence rather than her house. she wanted life to be easier for you.” mr. jung speaks as you picked up the item, examining the key to your new home. you were glad the inheritance was enough, and you learned that you have to search for a job soon. mr. jung said that there is a new flower shop in the downtown area, maybe you could try applying there.

stepping out of the van, you were met with a five-story building as the older man helps you put down your luggage beside you. your eyes admire the clean building as you stare at the window of one condo on the third floor. the condo you can call yours.

the rumbling of the van fades away as you remember mr. jung has to pick up one of his children from school. your eyes glance at the amount of luggage you have to carry up to the third floor. if only he could stay here longer to help-

“need any help?” you heard a voice calling for you. your eyes followed the source to find a tall boy with a black sweater and jeans, his bag’s strap slung across his chest. you see the black color of his hair root under the bleached ones. he must have bleached it so much that it looks dry and burnt. but you are glad to see him embracing his natural hair color back instead of bleaching it.

“you must be the new tenant,” he announced, pushing his palm towards you. an invitation for you to shake.

“i am. my name is (y/n). and that would be so helpful- uh...” you reply and shake his hand. feeling something electric cruising between the two of you as you tried to guess his name.

“soobin. it’s soobin. you’re my next-door neighbor.” he replied, his gaze landing on yours longer than you expected with you reciprocating. his face is so familiar, especially with the way he speaks with his eyes.

you let go of his hand as he gestures towards the two pieces he could carry. both of you enter the lobby of your condo as you step into the elevator. your grip on the handle of the suitcase is tight as you sensed the awkwardness exudes between the two of you. that’s when you accidentally take a peek at his open canvas bag to see a few books resting inside.

“you must like your books.” you give a small comment as you heard him chuckle.

“the perks of working in a bookstore, i guess,” he replied as you heard the ding of the elevator when its doors opened. your eyes landed on the boxes put outside of the door that you could recognize must be yours. soobin puts down the luggage near your feet before he straightens his body. that is when you notice that there is a tower of open empty boxes at the door across from yours.

“you also just moved in?”

“yeah. two weeks ago and i settle in pretty fast,” soobin replies, his body swaying as he gives a shy look at you.

“how- how about you? where did you come from?” he returned, curiosity evident in his voice.

“i’ve been this town citizen for most of my life. but i tried going to the city for a detour of some sort,” you replied whilst a chuckle left your lips.

“what city, to be exact?”

when you thought about the city, your memories get blurry as you can only remember a few striking images of the city.

“it’s a city that is so lush, full of overgrown. it doesn’t look like a city, to be honest, it looks like-“

“a forest.” soobin cuts you with the exact word you’re going to let out next. meeting his eyes, you see a look of recognition in him as he does as well to you before it fades away.

“i came from that city too. i guess i knew it was my time to leave and say farewell to it.” soobin replied, a smile showing on his face as you see the dimples forming from it.

“yeah, me too,” you answered as you exude the same smile.

even with both of your blurry memories of said city, it is real.

somewhere deep between tree covering, lies an abandoned city. the concrete towers have crumbled down to its foundation as it lets plants grow on it. creating a dichotomy of grays meeting greens that looks menacing, yet fascinating.

neverland.

taglist: @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @stayzentiny @rebsmoonn @boba-beom @angelbythewindow @ttyunz @izzyexe @serendipityjaemin @elavin

#bro #lemme start from the beginning i made a little notes app so i didn’t forget anything #i’m gonna start with this story had so much depth and plot twists i never knew what was coming next #almost cried at the grandmother on her death bed part #i wanna say that i was intrigued to know that the 5 friends were not TXT in the beginning #i feel like that’s an assumption anyone would make but it was interesting to be like BAM it’s actually Chaewon #that first flashback of y/n and Soob in Neverland… i thought it was like Winnie the Pooh for a bit where you forget about it due to growing #but y/n literally forgot because of reincarnation and Soobin’s manipulative ass 😭#gonna say that did hurt my Soobrangdan heart a little </3 #like i love my man Soob so obviously i love being delusional but then he… not the most appealing 🥲#and that part that where Soob talked about going to college because you don’t wanna adult?#literally been feeling that because i’m in my last two years 😔#the flora power that y/n had was also super cool #like i love how it came into play in so many parts #AND WHEN I SAY I KNEW KOOK WAS RELATED TO THE HOOK PLOTLINE #the insistence on being called kook?#the tats and piercings that make him look like a pirate?#i ate it right up #ngl that part where JK had y/n cornered… i was a little scared that we were gonna have another y/n death incident 😭#but success was attained (to some degree 🥲)#back to Soobin actually being super selfish and manipulative?#was not expecting that AT ALL #like that’s gotta be the biggest plot twist in the history of plot twists #the skewed POV is givign Us a little #where you kind of get tricked into rooting for the villain #like DAMN Soobin i was really behind you until i found out your true intentions 😞#choi soobin #soobin x reader #peter pan! soobin #lissie <33

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missqhughes · 2 months ago

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ON THE RECORD | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x fem!reader

-> contains: dom!quinn, unprotected pnv, m!oral receiving filming sex, physical fighting, bruises and blood, sexual acts and themes, exgf!reader x vince dunn

-> IN WHICH: it’s the first canucks vs. krakens game of the season; and for quinn, this time it’s personal. when y/n’s ex has some words to say about their relationship, he shows both of them exactly who she belongs to.

-> locked in to this fic so hard bc i haven’t written in forever, so i finished writing it in the shower BUT NOT LIKE THAT I PROMISE. also there’s 100% discrepancies in real game play vs in this but please bare with me for the plot. (hope you love it as much as i do!)

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

y/n was never nervous for a game.

but nothing could take away the ache she had leading up to this one.

it had been a while since her and quinn started dating, and he had it out for her ex since she told him all the horrible things he did to her; cheating, lying, hooking up with multiple women during the season, making a fool out of her publicly. however, she begged quinn not to start something; let bygones be bygones and leave it be, arguing how she left it all behind her. he agreed, knowing he didn’t want any bad press on himself; as captain and as someone the media knew wasn’t a fighter in the league.

y/n sat with her friend in the suite , fiddling with the sleeves of quinn’s jersey, eyes following where he was skating; he looked calm, focused, attentive to warm ups.

“dude, you need to calm down,” her friend laughed, noticing her obvious stress, “nothing is going to happen between them, i promise.”

y/n looked at her friend, “i know, i know. it’s just… quinn hates him. i know vince, and i know he can’t help himself from a fight. i’m just worried.”

“think quinn can’t handle himself?”

“no i know he can, i don’t want him risking getting hurt over something as stupid as a fight,” she retorted, gaze still fixed on the ice, “especially with vince.”

“i think you’re being dramatic,” her friend chuckled, taking a sip of her cold beer, “it’s just another game, no big deal.”

y/n sighed, shoulders relaxing a bit, allowing her friend’s reassurance to ease the tension in her body, “yeah, you’re right. just another game,” she said, cheering her cup with hers.

——————————————————————————

CANUCKS 3 - KRAKEN 2 / 3RD PERIOD

quinn was good at keeping his cool.

he had to, after all.

he ignored the glares from vince, his attempt at intimidation lingering through the entire game.

they didn’t come close in contact, until during a time out, quinn heard a voice call out at him,

“y/n here tonight? bet she came just for me,” vince chirped, a sinister, smug look on his face as he skated past him.

quinn stayed stone faced.

further into the final period of the game, he felt a body slam into his, nearly losing his balance and almost falling into the boards,

the whistle blew, and quinn was met yet again with vince’s hubristic stance,

“saw you’re with her now, how’s that goin for you? bet i come up a lot,”

vince spat, quinn skating closer to him, his temper beginning to spark in his body,

“get over it bud. she’s done with you.” quinn said calmly, the other players around the ice not aware of the situation brewing beside them.

“look hughes, you’re not special,”

with each word, the kraken gets closer and closer to quinn, puffing his chest and spewing hate, the hands in his gloves in the beginning of curling into fists,

“it was just you to get over me,”

quinn’s jaw tightened,

vince laughed bitterly, “she’s a slut, you tonight someone else tom-”

vince couldn’t even finish his sentence before quinn shoved him hard, both their gloves dropped as they fought, quinn bringing him down to the ice, delivering blow after blow to his face.

it all happened so fast, y/n heard the pounding on the glass, cheering on a fight, and feeling her stomach twist when she saw 43.

oh god.

none of the refs were able to get quinn off of him alone, his fists not stopping until they were bruised and bloody, matching the wounds on vince’s face.

quinn was panting with anger, face tinted crimson, a light bruise forming on his cheekbone where vince had landed a punch. he couldn’t feel the near splits in his knuckle, too riled with adrenaline to feel anything but rage.

——————————————————————————

fortunately enough, the canucks ended the game with a win, but that didn’t change how fired up y/n knew quinn was going to be when she saw him.

she was allowed to be in the locker room during post game interviews, and she watched nervously as interviewers swarmed and crowded quinn, bombarding him with questions.

he was asked about the fight, detail, if vince had said anything to set him off, the why as a captain, he would start something on the ice.

quinn’s expression remained nothing short of blank, refusing to answer any questions regarding it, pursing his lower lip, “nothing to say about that. keep it about hockey and that’s it.”

after post game reports had finished, y/n waited outside by the doors for quinn to come out.

she didn’t know how he was going to be when he came out, pacing with worry about what the media would twist this game in to.

y/n heard the heavy doors click open, quinn in a lazy rendition of his suit, walking over to her; the bruise on his cheek deeper in color than when she initially saw.

“hey baby,” she said softly, opening her arms for quinn to embrace without hesitation.

“hey,” he replied, tightening their hug before pulling away, “cmon, we need to go home.”

quinn didn’t give y/n a chance to respond when he hooked his hand into hers, leading her to his dark tinted car in the lot.

y/n slid into the passenger seat while quinn loaded his gear into the trunk, she looked out the window until the driver’s side door clicked shut.

she looked over at quinn, an unreadable look on his face; he said nothing, instead putting the car in drive to go back to their shared apartment.

the drive home was silent.

the only sound being the hum of the car engine and their steady breaths. quinn always had his hand on her leg when he drove, but this time his hand was a little higher, his grip a little tighter, all whilst he kept his gaze fixed on the road. y/n’s breath would hitch ever so slightly when his fingers kneaded into her skin.

——————————————————————————

quinn was still quiet even after getting home.

frustrated, y/n spoke out, “quinn, what did vince say to you?” she said with a sigh,

“shit about me. about you. us.” he mumbled, taking off his suit jacket and undoing the black tie he had on.

“so, that’s reason enough to give me the silent treatment all the way home? you’re acting like that was my fault,”

“i never said it was your fault.”

“you don’t have to! it doesn’t take a lot to know you’re upset,” she retorted,

“y/n,” quinn started, walking over to where she was standing, holding her by the neck when he kissed her roughly, biting her lip when she moaned lightly into his mouth.

he tapped the back y/n’s of legs, and she jumped hooking her legs around his waist without objection.

quinn waltzed them to the bedroom, their kiss nowhere close to cooling off. quinn lightly tossed her on the bed, lips peeling off hers to suck and bite on the exposed skin of her neck.

y/n groaned lightly, beginning to unbutton his collared shirt, when quinn pulled off of her, leaving y/n with furrowed brows.

“quinn, what’s wrong?” she said, propping herself up on her arms, looking up at her boyfriend, confused.

“wait here baby,” he said, leaving the room.

she nodded, and about 15 seconds had passed when quinn returned to the room, his phone in hand with the camera app already opened.

“you want to make a movie huh?” she said, beginning to peel off the jersey that housed quinn’s name.

“only for our number one fan. leave the jersey on,” he said, “but everything else, off. now.”

y/n nodded, slipping down her pants and thong, her pussy already aching with the desire quinn had filled in her.

quinn swiftly undid his belt with one hand, lowering his pants and boxers to leave his hard length exposed.

“c’mere, suck.”

y/n obliged, moving down to her knees to meet quinn at hip length, the phone flash shining brightly in her face when she took the tip of his dick and swirled it around her tongue.

quinn groaned, moving his free hand to pull y/n’s hair into a ponytail with his fist. his breath quickened, y/n taking all of him in, bobbing up and down; quinn’s hips matching her rhythm.

he had almost forgot he was recording her, but when her lashes fluttered up to perfectly view the camera whilst she sucked him, quinn knew he was close to cumming.

quinn groaned louder, fucking y/n’s face, her moans sending vibrations on his dick that pushed him to his release. he pulled out of her mouth right when he was about to cum, y/n sticking her tongue out to collect his release.

god he was loving this.

he stopped the video as she wiped the leftover release from her face, pulling her up for a sloppy hot kiss.

quinn pulled away, the two panting with puffy lips, “bed, ass up, baby. now.” he instructed, reopening his phone for the perfect view.

“yes captain,” y/n said, just ready for whatever quinn had in store for her, her wetness beginning to seep down and stick to her inner thighs, burning for him to touch her.

after hitting record, quinn wasted no time aligning himself with her, pumping in and out a few times before going fully in, his hips meeting her ass, eliciting moans from the two of them.

his pace was rapid and brutal, moving her hair away from her and back into his hands, revealing to the camera the “hughes” jersey she was wearing.

“fuck, quinn! mm, so good— my god, fuck,” y/n moaned, echoing with the sound of their skin slapping against one another, her noises music to quinn’s ears.

he continued to pound hard into her, y/n’s knuckles white from how hard she gripped into the sheets, feeling her stomach tighten, about to reach her high.

quinn felt her pussy tighten around him, knowing she was close, “gonna cum baby? go ahead, cum,” he husked, coming to his second of the night.

she screamed in pleasure, her cunt coating his dick, mixing with his as he filled her up with his release.

quinn pulled out of her slowly, giving time to show the camera a view of her dripping puffy pussy, ending the video with a hard smack on her ass.

y/n yelped, falling into the bed. quinn turned her around, gently kissing her in her dazed state.

“you okay baby?” he asked gently, caressing her face with his thumb,

“mhm, but i think you killed me. i’m exhausted,” she laughed, quinn smiling and bringing his lips down to peck hers, “sorry, want me to go start a shower for us?”

“you know me so well,”

quinn crawled off of her, grabbing his phone before slipping into the bathroom,

he opened instagram, typing in vince’s username into the search bar, itching as he opened their messages tab.

——————————————————————————

xoxo, kaia

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #nhl fic #hughes brothers #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey

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winterarmyy · 1 year ago

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Welcome home... Soldat? | Part I

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 2.9k++

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, dubious con on groping reader's body, dark(?) possessive behaviour, google translated russian, our soldat is kinda cute(?) in his own twisted way, and well, basically fluffy times with the soldat.

P/S: Guys, I never planned this at all. I mean, who am I kidding? All of my fics are not planned and I clearly write things out of impulse. Therefore, this one don't have much of a story building/plot because it was born out of one scene that flashed in my head and has been replayed way to many times that I need to let it out. Anyway, I still hope you enjoy it, somehow.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't know when exactly she started this habit but she swore to herself to never grow out of it.

It's been nearly 2 years since the fall of Hydra and the avenger has accepted the winter soldier under their wing. Begrudgingly by Tony, but the rest of them seemed like they're not against it.

Y/N used to be an agent from SHIELD but since the fall, she had been recruited under the avenger's programme and had been living in the tower since.

She remembered the day when Bucky first came in, he was quiet and weary all the time. Like an abandoned cat, picked up by a stranger to come to their home. And it took the whole team months before he slowly adapted.

Who knew he would morphed into a sassy, grumpy little shit, right?

Since the first day, Y/N had been making an effort to make him feel welcomed. Helped him to adjust to modern times. Though it was not regular but she's glad he came to her from time to time to ask about things.

Y/N only meant it to be casual when she greeted him back from his missions. Usually, it'll be something like,

"Oh you're back?"

"How's the team?"

"Good to see you well put together from such horrendous mission."

"God, you look like you fell from 5 flight of stairs."

"Are you even trying to fight back, Bucky?"

But one time, Bucky came back in the morning around breakfast, she wasn't feeling sassy or clever. So, instead of greeting him with playful remarks, in the glory of her messy bed hair and iron man pyjamas, she greeted him with a sleepy smile, "Welcome home, Bucky."

And that surely made the 6 foot, bulky hunk of a soldier paralysed in his spot. His ocean blues slightly widen, and his cheeks deepen in blush.

For a moment, he wondered if this is how he would feel if he had a wife waiting for him to come back from war back in the 40's. But, then again nothing can be compared to the sight he was seeing as he is now.

And Y/N didn't want to ever lose that memory of him.

Cute and flustered Bucky is a very rare sight to see. Perhaps, this was the only time she could witness it and she want to cherish it for the rest of her life.

Though Bucky never replied to Y/N's greeting, it didn't stop them from starting a whole new routine.

Y/N always knew that she had a thing for the sargent, but about 2 months from that moment, Y/N realized she was in love.

And she waited for him, every single chance she had for arrival of the team to come back. Just like she is now, at 03:45 in the morning, while scavenging for something sweet she can eat as she waits for Bucky's return.

When, she turned around she was not expecting to have her face into clashed into something, "Oww!" Y/N shuts her eyes close as she rubbed her aching nose to ease the sharp strike of pain.

For a moment there, she seriously thought she might have just bumped into some kind of a solid air that appeared out of nowhere, but when she opened her eyes, it was just Bucky who was standing rather ominously still.

"My god, you scared the shit out of me. I know you used to be an assassin but, you gotta announce yourself sometimes, man." She joked. Although she did find it impressive that he managed to silently sneak up on her with those thick, heavy combat boots he was wearing.

"Woah, someone's been having a field day kicking your ass, huh?" Y/N's eyes lingered a little longer on the wounds at the side of his temple that she didn't notice the void in his eyes.

"Anyway..." she continued as she shook of the thoughts of caressing the cut on the corner of Bucky's lip, before greeting him with a gentle smile, "Welcome home."

Bucky's unresponsiveness was nothing new to her. With the amount of silent glares and gruff eye-rolls that he had shot at her these past few months, she's used to it by now.

But, when she finally had the guts to look him in the eye, only then she noticed the underlying shift. Albeit, his signature frown was still as present as ever but, those eyes had made her questioned of the slight difference from what she recognized.

Bucky wordlessly step forward and cornered her until her back meets the side of the kitchen isle. He took his time assessing her, almost admiring the way her iris wavered in confusion.

Something is wrong.

Her guts were screaming at her to notice it but her body wasn't reacting accordingly. That's when the voice of the AI, Jarvis echoed through the walls.

"Emergency alert: Code Winter. Initiated by Captain Steve Rogers. All agent is advised..." The announcement went on based on protocol while the cogs in Y/N's brain finally moved, "Code Winter? That means..."

"...to be cautious of Sargent James Barnes; reprimand on sight however try not to engage alone. Agents is..." Jarvis voice in the background interwoven with Y/N's internal deduction, "...This is not Bucky?"

As she tried to put her own mind into perspective, trying to make herself believe that this man in front of her is not Bucky Barnes who she had been adoring over for these past few months, the soldat's hands reached the side of her neck, squeezing the softness of her flesh while his thumbs grazed the shape of her jawline.

His heavy gaze remained on hers, willing her to stay as still possible.

"Bucky...?" She called his name in hopes of triggering something, anything for within his controlled mind.

At end of the corridor leading towards the kitchen, Steve could see how the soldat had already gotten his hands on Y/N and panic strike him like lightning, he sprinted towards her as he despretely shouted, "Y/N! Stay away from--"

But Y/N was not able to render anything she heard from Steve, especially after a long silence, the soldat finally spoke, "Yes, I'm home..."

He carefully pulled her face closer to his as his lips planted on her soft cheek, "...мое cолнышко (my sunshine)" he lifted for a second just to kiss her again on her temple as he whispered lowly, "...мое Родная (my darling)"

Y/N's heart was beating madly for several different reasons. Parts of her was terrified that the soldat might break her neck within an instance, but it gradually changes into something much more confusing, a conflicted joy, when he keep on trailing his lips all over her face.

What is happening?

Both her and Steve was practically frozen in pure confusion.

Steve's mouth hanged open as words failed to form, while Y/N was unable to comprehend any sort of thoughts, let alone counter movements; when the soldat continue to whisper Russian endearments against her skin, littering sweet kisses on every part of her face, except for her lips as if he wanted to tease her.

His hands slowly travel down her back and stopped on the side of her waist, pulling her body closer until there was no space in between them anymore, before he wrapped his arms around her.

The drag of his stubble on her skin burned but it felt so good when he kissed it after.

Seconds later, Sam managed to catch up with Steve and his cautious approach fell as he witnessed the soldat's rather domestic actions towards Y/N.

Sam foolishly let his guard down as he approached with a question directed to Steve, "Is the tin man back?" That was when a bullet barely grazed the tip of his ear that then buried through the wall behind him.

Both Steve and Sam forced to stop any sort of movement as the soldat's aim was still locked towards their direction; his cold blue eyes pierced with a menacing warning, all the while posessively holding Y/N in his arms as his kisses trailed the side of her neck.

"Nope, not yet." Sam answered his own question as he waited for Steve's order.

Y/N felt like she have to do something to de-escalate the situation. After a quick deduction, and based on the soldat attitude towards her, she took the risk of believing that he would not do anything to hurt her, so she decided to play along.

Will it work though?

Well, she got to have to try for it work.

She gulped nervously before softly calls for him, "Soldat?" she looked up towards him.

When the soldat gave her his attention, she watched the loose strand of his hair fall down to his face. Her hand went up and reached for it, "How about we go back to your room and let me tend these wounds, hmm?" She cooed while tucking his behind his ear and briefly caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers.

The soldat didn't reply but instead silently process her proposition.

However, the hesitation only worried her more, so she continued to persuade, as she cautiously slide her hand, following his arm that was holding her teammates at gun point, "It'll be just the two of us. How's that sound?" She smiled warmly at him as she managed to lower it enough to grab the gun away from his grasp.

There was a glint of indecipherable emotion in his eyes when she mentioned that, which then he nodded in agreement.

"Okay then, let's go." She put the gun on the kitchen isle behind her and replaced her hand in his, pulling him towards his bedroom. The soldat did not protest to her lead, in fact her followed her obediently.

But before Y/N makes an exit, she looked back towards Steve and mouthed a reassuring message, "I got this."

The captain had all the rights to be weary but at this point, he just had to believe in Y/N's action plan. He nodded and replied, "Be safe. We'll be outside."

Along the walk towards Bucky's room, all she could think was that she can handle it and she got this under control.

But, does she?

Well, Y/N did have it under control, in terms of keeping the soldat from going on a berserk rampage but what she didn't think through was how the fuck she should handle his behaviour towards her.

After they arrived to Bucky's room, she had instructed him to strip off his tactical suit and leave him sitting at the edge of the bed, only in his short to avoid him reaching for any hidden weapons he had, all the while she went to grab the first aid from his bathroom.

Now that she almost done tending the small injuries on his face, it finally dawned to her that the soldat had her immobilized in between his legs as his hands rubbed the back of her thighs, occasionally squeezing the softness of her body in his tender grip.

His intent gaze waited patiently for her to finish and as soon as she did, he pulled her on his lap, making her to straddle on top him as he smushed his face on her chest, "Oh, Родная (darling)... I have missed you."

Her hands found her balance on his shoulders while the soldat roaming hands held her body still by the back of her waist.

It will be a lie if she said her heart didn't skipped when he confessed; even if it was still the soldat's thoughts and words but it was Bucky's voice.

The soldat pulled his other hand to play with the buttons of her pyjamas shirt, specifically around her chest area.

Part of him wanted to just rip her clothes off from her body but another part of him didn't want to. He didn't want scare her; and his precious little darling deserved to be pampered.

He had her buttons popped off; one by one, slow and almost sensual while Y/N was still in a heated debate with herself on what she should to next. She wanted the soldat to stop but god the temptation of wanting more was beyond her will power.

This is not Bucky.

She knew that. But, she had been bewitched by the look in those familiar blue eyes. So enthralled and so keen to unwrap her.

Y/N let out a low yet sharp gasp as her chest was finally revealed, "Soldat, what..." The soldat take a quick glance into her eyes, "...are you doing?" before trailing back down to the curve of her breasts, cupped so beautifully with a simple black bra.

His hands went back to grabbed her thighs as he replied, "Just wanna hold you." He leaned closer and left a lingering kiss in between her breasts, mumbling deep, " Wanna feel you, мое Родная (my darling)"

Fuck, it feels so good.

"Wanna feel you..." Y/N's grip on his bare shoulder tightened as he lips warmed the top of her right breast, "...here." An unexpected moan slipped out of her lips as the soldat latched his wet mouth on her skin, bruising it with his mark.

He groaned to the taste of her, so sweet and soft, he wanted to pull the bra off her and suckle on her nipple. He bet that they're perky and so sensitive. Bet he could make her cum just by playing with them.

He wanted to leave his bite mark around them, make them look much more prettier. But, he needed to be patient.

He brought his left hand up to hold the other side of her chest; pulling another pretty noise as the cold metal of his thumb gently stroked the exposed skin of her breast.

"Wanna feel you..." His flesh hand made its way lower and cupped her clothed sex, unexpectedly making her grind down to his hold, "...here."

She couldn't help to find shelter in the crook of his neck when he began to stroke her sensually.

This is getting out of hand.

Y/N doesn't mind to entertain him if the soldat only asked for him to hold her but it was clear that he wanted so much more than just innocent touches. Especially when he languidly rubbed his middle finger in between the slit of her pussy.

She hates how easy it was for Bucky's touch turned her on, his hands and his lips; regardless if his actions was someone else's.

This is wrong.

This has to stop.

"No... soldat." She whimpered in his ears as his finger drew slow circles on her clit, his mouth latched on her shoulder.

"I can't touch you here?" He murmured softly as he pressed harder. Even with the barrier of the cotton panties, she was so sensitive to his touch; he loves that about her.

"N-no. You can't." She choked back a moan as she replied.

God, what if he doesn't care?

What if he'll get mad and force it on her?

She can't imagine the guilt Bucky had to experience if the soldat take her right now. And all because her stupid little brain cannot comprehend a plan to stop him, all because she let the soldat touch her as freely, as willingly.

Salty tears started to blur her vision when she sniffled them back.

Much to his deperateness, the soldat pulled her away and watched as her tears spilled out, "Oh darling, don't cry." He leaned in and kiss the corners of her eyes, murmuring his words of comfort, "I hate to see you cry, мое cолнышко (my sunshine)." His metal hand slithered to her back and his palm stroked her lovingly.

"Okay, okay. I won't touch your sweet princess part, okay?" He patted her pussy one last time before reaching to swipe her tears away. "I promise." He whispered.

As much as he wanted to fuck her stupid, fill her hole full with his load; however the soldat does hold her very dear to his heart and hates to see her sad.

"Just let me hold you close, darling?" He cooed as he kissed the edge of her lips.

Y/N didn't know why but she trusted his words. Maybe it was because he was so gentle with her, that she was tricked into believing him.

She watched the soldat waited patiently for her response and when she nodded softly, he swiftly lifted her in his arms and lay her down on the bed.

He tucked himself in under the sheets with her and naturally rested his face on her chest. His fleshed arms wrapped securely around her waist and his metal one around her thighs, as he pulled her closer; almost suffocating himself in between her warm breasts.

It was like an instinct for Y/N to encircle her arms around his neck while her hands run through the thick of his hair, absentmindedly playing with the softness of it.

She almost giggle when the soldat let out a deep-throated sound of relieved sighs as she continued to massage his scalp.

As the soldat started to sail deeper into dreamland, Y/N thought that maybe this will be the only and the last time she had the chance to hold Bucky like this and she knew it was wrong to feel grateful to the soldat because had done nothing but terrible, despicable things in the past.

But when she thought about it, none of those sins was his choice to make. He was created to kill and nothing else.

But what if he had something to hold on to?

A hope to look forward to?

A person to protect?

Or a home to go back to?

Would he still be the same monster he had been before?

She have not a slightest clue.

But, what she does know that this soldat who's clinging in her arms, deserves something kind.

And she hoped that she managed to give him a sense of peace for once in his life.

Y/N nuzzled to the side of his tired-looking face and placed a sweet kiss on his temple as she whispered ever-so-softly, "Welcome home, soldat."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This is possibly part 1? I'm not sure either. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! And reblogs is much appreciated!

#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier × reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier!bucky #bucky fluff

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leclerclov3 · 7 months ago

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｡･:*˚:✧｡ P1 BABY!!!!!!

masterlist

✰Pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

✰Warning: /

✰Summary: in which the world gets a glimpse the wild celebrations that follow after lando's first win

mclaren

Liked by yourusername and 848,449 others

mclaren LANDO NORRIS IS A FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER!

LANDO WINS THE #MIAMIGP!!

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yourusername THAT'S MY MANNN 🧡🧡🧡

yourusername I'M SO PROUDDD

user82 OH MY GODDDDD HE DID IT!!

user91 one lost an appendix and won, the other hurt his nose and won something's going on here 🤔

user73 lando nowins became lando norris

user56 LANDO YOU'RE THE ONEEE

user66 ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!

user45 Lando is the king of Miami !!

user82 he done it

user04 Let's gooooo

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and 2,602,846 others

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆 ps. thank you for all the support babe couldn't've done it without you 🧡

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername SO PROUD OF YOU LOVEEE

↳landonorris couldn't of done it without you 🧡

yourusername LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

*liked by landonorris*

georgerussell63 Congrats mate!!

lewishamilton WELL DONE

fernandoalo_oficial Bravooooo

maxfewtrell So proud brother

oscarpiastri Well done man

user41 Don't break the trophy lando

user77 i have never celebrated a victory as much as today

user48 This Lando Norris win is the plot twist we all needed in the 2024 season

user32 DU DU DU DU LANDO NORRIS

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 81,729 others

yourusername so proud of you love words cannot even express all the emotions i feel right now 🧡 go papaya🏆

tagged: landonorris, mclaren

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landonorris awwww that's so sweet thank you love

↳yourusername you deserve it baby 🧡

oscarpiastri where was my post when i won in japan hmmm 😐

↳landonorris she clearly likes me more then you mate

↳oscarpiastri exuse you she so doesn't

↳landonorris she so does

↳yourusername kids no fighting in my comment section i like you both equally

user819 omg they're so cute

user628 literally the it couple of the paddock

charles_leclerc i was third why wasn't i mentioned y/n 🤨

↳yourusername ups...🤷‍♀️

user28 i just love her relationship with everyone on tge grid

user52 she is the moment

user71 he literally ate and left no crumbs let's go landooooo

user91 so proud of him i might of cried..

mclaren so is this the lart where we say that you cried like a baby or....

↳yourusername admin...watch your back i know who you are..

↳mclaren oh..oh that's not...

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 1,829,910 others

yourusername as you can clearly see we had a fucking blast and onece more i am so proud of you lan you deserved this 🧡🏆

tagged: landonorris, georgerussell63 and 10 others

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landonorris i have a killer headache but at least i don't have and other physical injuries

↳yourusername you were close had i not been there..

↳lewishamilton you're not fooling anyone y/n you were both drunk of your ass and i had to babysit

↳yourusername FALSE FALSE ACCUSATIONS I SAY

carlossainz55 had a blast glad we got to celebrate together

charles_leclerc alex says to not let me drink so much again

↳yourusername next time bring her too we'll get her drunk aswell problem=solved

↳charles_leclerc smarttt

↳alexandrasaintmleux you're both dumb 🤦‍♀️

user28 i love her relationship with the grid

user48 icons all of them

user72 i am so jealous rn

user29 i've never had such intense fomo in my life

｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:

HE WON HE FREAKING WONNNN WOO!!! as you can see i'm very excited so i just had to write something about it i know it's not the best but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless <3

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writtenfangirl · 8 months ago

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Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?” He tried to do his best nonchalant impression but not even Benedict was convinced of his own performance.

Eloise simply rolled her eyes at him before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

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pellucid-constellations · 3 months ago

Text

The Construct of Loyalty

Pairing: Cassian x Rhys's Sister!Reader

Summary: After months of "disobedience" your father calls upon Cassian to be your personal guard. That leaves Cassian, a soldier in the Night Court army, your childhood friend, and a man deeply in love with you, to protect you from all fronts—including the arranged marriage you were born into.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Angst, arranged marriage, panic attacks, dual pov ;)

a/n: This wasn't going to be so long initially but then whoops it developed its own life. Part two will be necessary I think ♡ For context and clarification, the reader grew up with the IC and everyone is around 50-70 rn. Rhys's other sister is alive still but not really important to the plot.

Main Masterlist ♡

“What if we just—”

“No, y/n.”

“But, Cassian, this is ridiculous. I’ve been stuck in here for three days.”

“And you’ll be stuck a lot longer if you disobey your father again.”

“You don’t even like the guy! Why are you so intent on kissing his ass?”

Cassian bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes at the defeated posture you’d adopted. In truth, he didn’t like your father—hated him, actually. But Cassian knew the life you lived and what would come if you continued to act out against him. He knew things were becoming serious because Rhysand voiced his concerns over your circumstances when he was usually too protective to divulge anything, and he knew things were bad because the High Lord of the Night Court tasked him to watch over you.

Him, a bastard-born Illyrian who was nothing more than dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

But Cassian was dirt that you’d actually listen to.

According to Rhys, your father had appointed six high fae to be your personal guard over the past six months. All six had been sent away rather abruptly when they failed to rein you in. But “rein you in” was a ridiculous sentiment, as you called it. All you wanted to do was to get out of the room your father kept you cloistered in and actually experience a life.

You wanted to speak to people who weren’t your assigned propriety tutors or servants. You wanted to get out of the Moonstone Palace and be a person outside of the marital obligations your father placed on you. You wanted to shop in Verlaris with Mor and make Cassian take you flying and, above all, you wanted to understand your magic—to hone the combination of night and day that your father’s choice of mistress had carefully curated.

Because that union was the entire purpose of your birth, and the moment you turned 50 you were ripped from your family and hurled into the Moonstone Palace to live out your purpose.

You were to be the figurehead of the alliance between Night and Day and you were to fulfill that duty through marriage.

It didn’t matter that you were hardly seen as a person; you were a pawn, and as long as your father lived, you would continue to be used and maneuvered as the court saw fit.

Rhysand had been trying his hardest to keep you from marriage for as long as he could, but the more you acted against your father’s wishes, the closer you got to your fate.

You knew it was coming. You’d had far more freedom before you turned 50 but you’d still lived under your father’s thumb. Cassian always hated watching you get pulled from quiet nights in with your sister and would cast you sad looks when you were made to watch from the sidelines when everyone else was training. But that had always been your life, and there was never anything he could do about it.

Cassian clenched his jaw in abject frustration. “Y/n… don’t do this.”

You scoffed and harshly sat on your bed, the gauzy material of your dress splaying up before floating back down to rest on the blankets. Whatever hairstyle had been twisted upon your crown this morning was unraveling in a pretty mess around your face and Cassian itched to brush away the strands.

You’d always been so pretty.

He turned his fingers into his palm as you began to speak. “He wouldn’t even have to know. I wouldn’t leave your side once,” you mumbled. Your words felt more like a routine and less like an actual request. Because Cassian always said no when the other guards always gave in too easily.

Or you had simply slipped past them too easily.

“Look, Starfall is coming up. I’m sure your father would let you go out to be with everyone.”

You twisted your mouth in a way Cassian knew meant you were trying not to cry. You blinked up to look at the ceiling and nodded your head with your teeth embedded in your bottom lip, and Cassian’s heart was dangerously close to breaking.

When he’d gotten the station report—or rather, demand—to be your personal guard, Cassian had seen it as a good thing. He’d get a break from the grueling hours of being a soldier in the Night Court’s troops and he’d get to spend more time with you. He’d missed you terribly since you’d been sent to Hewn City.

But then he’d gotten to your room and spent three weeks telling you no and watching you go stir crazy and he was three seconds away from caving. It wasn’t surprising that the other appointed guards had failed so quickly—you were too lovely to deny, especially when you looked so sad.

Cassian breathed out a sigh and walked to your seat on the bed, his leathers groaning as he moved to crouch at your feet. You were still staring at the ceiling and Cassian was still aching to somehow fix all of this.

“Hey,” he prompted. When you only tightened your grip on the piles of luxurious blankets on your bed, Cassian took your chin between his finger and thumb and brought your gaze down to him. “There she is,” he smiled, but the hazy gleam in your eye felt like a punch to the gut.

“I hate this,” you whispered, all shaky and upset.

Cassian tsked. “I know, sweetheart.”

“I just want to go back home.”

“I know.”

“It’s so weird that you’re in charge of me.”

Cassian snorted. “I’m not in charge of you. I’m the one that has to follow you around.”

You narrowed your watery eyes. “If that were true you’d let me go back to Velaris. Or go anywhere other than this wretched place.”

“Well, in that way I guess I’m more protecting you than in charge of you. That’s what a guard does, sweetheart.”

“Protecting me,” you laughed, jaw clenching as Cassian kept it in his soft hold. “What would be so dangerous about going to Velaris, hm? Or… running away. Really, really far away.”

“Can’t run away, y/n. We’d all miss you too much,” Cassian teased, but the hint of panic in his eyes was unmistakable.

You raised an unamused brow. “Because you all see me so much now.”

Cassian offered you a bittersweet smile and gave your cheek a soft pat. “You know I’m not protecting you from the people out there. You know why I won’t let you leave.”

You looked resigned, but that reality was becoming more commonplace. You sighed and reached up to place your touch on Cassian’s knuckles. “I know, Cass,” you hummed. “I know.”

You shifted in your seat for the countless time that evening, the stone throne at your back doing little for comfort. The heavy crown on your head was giving you a headache and your father kept yelling, exacerbating the pounding behind your eyes.

You were made to attend official court business more often, your father assimilating you into the role he birthed you for with more urgency as you rebelled. Cassian stood behind you with a stiff posture and murder in his eye, playing the role of a guard to perfection. And you knew, with all certainty, that if anyone looked at you wrong they would be on the floor.

That was one benefit of having a personal guard—even more so a guard that you grew up with.

“—not accept this insolence,” you heard your father bite out. He jutted his hand back to the shorter throne you sat upon. “And you bring it in front of my daughter. I won’t have this. Not in my court.”

You hid a flinch as the man before the dais was forced to the ground by a free-flowing darkness you could recognize anywhere.

Your father’s show of power.

The man screamed and pleaded and you couldn’t remember what had brought him to this, but you knew this was just a ploy by your father to assert his dominance over the court. You breathed through your nose as he continued to scream and plead, pressing your lips into a line and maintaining your mask of neutrality and boredom.

You were never made out for the life your father expected from you.

After the man was thoroughly incapacitated and groaning, your father let up and sent him away and you were left feeling sick to your stomach.

Almost done, you reminded yourself, and then you could rot in your room with nothing to occupy you but the dread of your upcoming fate. You could feel Cassian’s presence at your back and it was somewhat reassuring that he would be rotting along with you. Maybe he would even play cards with you today or you could pass the time begging him to help you with your magic.

He always denied with an apologetic expression and you knew, deep down, that he would never agree to anything. The back and forth was simply a way to get through the day.

The doors to the throne room burst open with a loud boom, startling you out of your roaming thoughts. You sat up in alarm when a small brigade of soldiers dressed in Day Court armor marched in, preceding a well-built, stoic-looking man with a grimace plastered on his face.

You whipped around to look at Cassian in an uncharacteristic act of impropriety. Cassian looked just as lost as you were, but he blinked away the concern and sent you a reassuring nod as if he had everything under control. You watched his ruby siphons flicker and his fists clench as he clasped them together by his thighs, but you turned around. You had to turn around because you were not supposed to consult a guard about matters of your court.

A quick glance at your father told you that he was surprised as well, but pleasantly. “Blaise,” your father greeted, clapping with the word. You hid another flinch. “I was not expecting you today.”

“Clearly,” Blaise snarked, stopping before the thrones at the head of the room. “Your full court is not even here. Where is your heir?”

Your father’s expression morphed into a glare. “Training,” he said. And then, “But that shouldn’t be what concerns you. Your bride is just beside me.”

The world slowed, your thoughts and the movements of those around you sticky and heavy. You thought you might have opened your mouth but the action was delayed and it was hard to find the path to your muscles. Your chest caved. The light in the room became dim.

Blaise smirked and trailed his gaze to your figure. He let his eyes rove from your feet up to your face, so unhurried, so lax. As if you were already something he owned and he could take all the time he wished. In a way, you guessed he could—it wasn’t as if you had anywhere else to be.

“Huh.” Blaise stuck his tongue against his cheek. “Come.”

You blinked as the man stuck his hand out and waved his fingers in three harsh motions, beckoning you to him as if you were a dog.

It felt like you’d been doused in ice water as onlookers watched you expectantly. Rhys had told you he was buying more time. Cassian had told you. Azriel sent shadows to your room and you took them as signs of something. But before you stood your betrothed and behind you stood Cassian and there was nothing to be done.

You looked over to your father.

“This is Blaise. He is a duke in Day. You shall be married. Go to him,” he commanded, nodding towards the stern brow in the center of the throne room.

“Father—”

“Go to him.”

You rose. Everything fell off its axis, a rush of lightheadedness making you lose your balance and lean back to grip the arm of the throne. A steady hand on your elbow grounded you. You didn’t even need to turn to know it was Cassian, but you did, anyway.

Hazel eyes bore back into yours, devastation and determination mingling in the hues. Something dropped in your stomach and something else made you tear your gaze away and stare at your fate head-on. Cassian’s fingers lingered. They pulled away when you fully righted yourself.

“Do you give me an ill bride, High Lord?” Blaise accused with a mean raise of his brow.

“Of course not. Do not insult me.” No further explanation.

You passed your tongue across your drying lips and took the steps down to meet Blaise, the man instantly snatching your hand and raising it above your head. He walked around you, inspecting you as if you were something to be appraised before buying, and nodded after completing the circle. Then, to set your stomach rolling, he swooped down and pressed his mouth to your ear. You heard a rushed step behind you, but the sound was drowned out by hot breath and whispers.

“You’ll do nicely, given that you’re house-trained. Virgin?”

You pushed back on his armored chest to gain some distance and Blaise cackled, knocking his head back in delight.

“A bit skittish, but that’s fine. You said she’ll be used to Day? Definitely not staying here.”

Your father hummed, taking a bored sip from his chalice. “She’s spent time in Day. Her mother hails from the court.”

The rest of the conversation was lost to buzzing.

Cassian was wrought with panic.

He had already opened his mind and shared the information with Rhys, but Rhys was still honing his daemati abilities and Cassian had no idea if his brother even got the information.

He hid his panic behind a stone wall of neutrality and malice as he walked you back to your room, cataloging the way you took even steps and stared blankly at the walls in front of you. His facade was breaking down with each step you took; you seemed to be escaping into yourself and Cassian was becoming increasingly worried.

Part of not being able to practice and control your magic came the dangers of it overtaking you. No one was sure if you harnessed daemati powers like your father and brother, but if you did and weren’t aware, you could get stuck. Cassian had witnessed Rhys’s struggles with that when he was first learning to control his magic and emotions were high.

The moment your bedroom door clicked shut, Cassian’s hands were on your face.

“Y/n? Hey, look at me,” he urged, tucking his wings into his back because maybe the light from your windows would help somehow.

When you didn’t look, a faraway haze to your eyes, he shook you, rattling your head in desperation. You should be screaming, crying, begging him to let you leave after what you just discovered. And, instead, you were blank.

His next demands were stern. “Y/n, I can’t get Rhys here. You need to snap out of this. I don’t know how to help you.”

You breathed a little deeper, but no change.

“Fuck.” Cassian looked around the room, his head whipping back and forth as he searched for anything that could help. For Rhys, it was easier to develop skills to get him out of this state because he had been expecting it. For you, there was no prep, no warning.

Cassian turned back to you, his heart pounding out of his chest. If he couldn’t get you out of this before your father noticed—

He saw your eyes shift and something clicked.

You were staring intently at the red siphon gleaming on Cassian’s chest, blinking quicker the longer you stared.

“This helping?” Cassian murmured, yanking the siphon from his chest without care to hold it up to your eye level. “Okay, we’ll work with that.” You blinked even more with the tone of his voice and Cassian took that as motivation. “Keep working yourself out of this, sweetheart. You do this and I’ll teach you how to use a blade. Haven’t you been asking? Dumb question—you’ve been asking since we were twenty but—”

Cassian cut off his rambling when the first few tears fell down your cheeks. He watched each as they fell, wiping them away with his thumbs as he waited. And waited. And then you choked out a sob, and as much as he hated the sound, relief flooded through him at your state of consciousness.

“You—you said there was more time,” you stressed, stumbling over your tears. “Rhys… he told me there was more time.”

Cassian shook his head as he spoke. “I know. I know, sweetheart, but we’ll figure it out, okay? Me, Rhys, and Az. We can—”

“You can’t do anything,” you cried. Your breath was picking up. “No one has been able to do anything my entire life. Not my brother or you or even myself. I—Cassian, I was only born to do this. No one cares about anything else. You’re only here because my father willed you to be. Because it serves his agenda to have you guarding me.”

Cassian’s fingers buzzed as he wiped more and more tears from your face. He kept opening his mouth to say something, anything, but it didn’t matter. Nothing would make up for this.

“I—I can’t. I can’t be married to that man. Being locked in here was bad enough. Being coddled and prepped for my entire life was enough. I’m not a princess, Cassian. I’ve never wanted to… and now I…”

You were hyperventilating now, raucous inhales colliding with heavy, painful exhales. You dropped to your hands and knees and Cassian followed suit but with the sole purpose of propping you up and placing a steady hand on your stomach. You fought him, desperate to claw at the ground and escape the world, but Cassian wouldn’t have it.

“I need you to breathe,” Cassian requested, his words firm but soft. “I need you to focus on how I’m touching you and I need you to breathe into my hand.”

He’d done this before, it was familiar.

You used to get panic attacks anytime your father forced you to stay at the Palace for a weekend to view one of the many horrors at the Court of Nightmares. Rhys helped, but it was Cassian who noticed the tells—the uneven breaths, the panic in your gaze. It was Cassian who felt pain himself each time your throat closed.

You shook your head at Cassian’s demand, clawing at your chest.

“Yes, y/n. Try. For me, please.”

He could tell you were trying, even as you continued to shake your head until that ridiculous crown toppled onto the floor. You tugged at the shimmering black material on your chest and never broke eye contact with Cassian and you tried.

Slowly, eventually, Cassian saw your chest stutter and your breath begin to even out.

“That’s it,” he praised, rubbing his thumb along the boning of your dress. Your lashes fluttered until your eyes closed. “That’s it, baby,” he muttered, the endearment slipping past and getting lost in the air.

You reached down and gripped Cassian’s wrist. “I’m okay now. I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

You nodded. “I mean, I’m not okay. But I can breathe and think.”

“Those are accomplishments I guess.”

“I don’t think this is part of your job description,” you joked, the small laugh that followed half-hearted and weak.

Cassian smiled. “Did the other guards do it?”

“I can’t say they did.”

Cassian readjusted his position on the floor and shifted you to no longer sit on your knees. He brushed your hair back and fixed the neckline of your dress.

“You scared me,” he admitted, still focused on adjusting the mess you’d made of yourself.

“I’ve had panic attacks before.”

“No, not that. You got stuck, I think. Like how Rhys would when he was first learning to use his daemati abilities.”

“Don’t tell my father.” The words were so quick from your mouth that Cassian shot up to look at you. “Don’t. I already have a difficult time with the court abilities and I don’t need him to—”

“Y/n, I would never tell him,” Cassian interrupted, a furrow in his brow. “Why would you ever think I would do that to you.”

You cast your gaze down. “Well, I don’t know. You’re in his employ—you have to report to him and be loyal. The other guards—”

“I am not another guard.”

“Well, I obviously know that. But I just wasn’t sure where that part of you started and my friend ended.”

Cassian closed his eyes for a long, disappointed beat.

It was pretty obvious that Cassian was in love with you—at least, it was pretty obvious to himself as of three weeks ago. The moment he saw you again after months away, all pretty and sequestered away and so happy to see him you were glowing, he knew he was a goner. There had been hints of it when he was growing up, but seeing you again made it hit him full force.

Of course, you could never know, because as much as you said you weren’t and were adamantly against the title, you were a princess, and Cassian didn’t want to add more stress to the plethora of horrors in your life.

Still, the realization of his feelings only made your questioning tone hurt that much more.

“Y/n, look at me.” Eyes met in your bedroom. Cassian kept his hands in his lap and you had your fingers pressed to the ground. “My only goal is to keep you alive and happy. I frankly don’t give a shit about your father. Everything I do or have done has been to keep you safe. He isn’t safe, so I make sure to follow his orders because not doing so is dangerous for you. Rhys… Rhys has been keeping close tabs on the situation from the outside and informs me what I need to divulge or keep secret. Nothing has ever been done out of loyalty to your father.”

You released your bottom lip from your teeth and Cassian watched your shoulders sag in relief. He was about to say more, but then you launched yourself into his chest and his arms were wrapping around you without him willing them to. He had to stop the two of you from lying flat on the floor, jutting an arm out to stabilize the hug before bringing it back around to rest in your hair.

“I thought I'd lost you for a little while there,” you admitted, your face buried in Cassian’s shoulder.

Guilt ate at his heart. “I thought you said you understood why I was making you stay?”

“I did,” you mumbled. “Or, I thought I did. I knew you wanted to keep me safe, but I thought you also wanted to please my father.”

Cassian dragged you back from his chest, hands resting along your head and back. “I’m sorry it felt that way. I have only wanted to please your father for your benefit. I’m—we’re family, y/n—” and I love you, he wanted to add “—you’re my family.”

You stared back at Cassian, tears still fresh in your eyes and on your face. “Can we leave now?”

Another piece of Cassian crumbled, shattered. “We can’t. You can’t. Rhys is working on another way out of this but if you try to run right now you know your father will only come after you.”

“What about the human lands?” you rushed out, hands on Cassian’s chest and so close to his heart. “Or I could go off-continent. I could learn to glamour myself and try. Cassian, I could try.”

“Y/n, you just got lost in your own head and you have no idea what kind of powers you have beyond that. You have no fighting skills, no way to defend yourself. I know you’re capable, but you’ve had your every need catered since you were born. And your father would be after you. I don’t know if you’d survive.”

Cassian watched you deflate as he spoke. He brushed his hand up from your back to run a soft touch along your jaw. “And I would come with you—if you ran. But your brother has his head up his ass and he’s going to need help when he becomes High Lord.”

You smiled some—a sad, dejected smile.

“We’re gonna figure this out, sweetheart, just like I told you.” He leaned forward until your foreheads touched. “You’re not going anywhere I can’t go.”

“And what if none of you can do anything about it?” you whispered.

Cassian ignored the fear that threatened to cease him at the prospect. “Then I’m going to fight like hell until I can.”

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #cassian fanfiction #cassian fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #cassian lord of bloodshed #cassian angst

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sceletaflores · 6 months ago

Note

Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up

— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

author's note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you.

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone.

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you.

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you.

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.”

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller.

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey.

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands.

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure, "Just try to relax.”

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter.

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything.

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings."

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done.

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up.

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you.

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back.

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house.

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things.

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her.

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.”

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience.

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to.

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing.

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold.

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment.

The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want you.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk out that door right now and never step foot in their house again.

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything.

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now.

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him.

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over.

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly.

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.”

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest.

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist.

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from.

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,” he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room.

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying.

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it.

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you.

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you.

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself.

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you. Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets.

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him.

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit.

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter.

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining.

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” You whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips.

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan.

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks.

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

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