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ghostbeam · 4 months ago

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Oblivi_n.exe | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler.

As Dabi’s new handler, you’re well aware of his history, how frequently he goes through handlers assigned to him. Not that he ever uses them—it’s more complete resistance. You’re not particularly good at your job. Transferred from the PLF for lack of success in handling any of their pilots, you’ve always been far too gentle. You lack authority. Your pilots never respected you. You don’t think Dabi will be any different. You give it a week.

Notes: okay wow hiiiii it’s been a long time since I’ve posted an actual fic (nearing almost a year now😬) this is something I’ve been working on for a bit. I have mech brain rot curtesy of @streimiv and @hawnks (both of whom this is dedicated to bc there’s no way I could have written this without yapping to them abt it and also mint helped me come up w the acronym for HERO’s) and we’ve all got our own mech fics in the works atm but anywayssssss this is kind of my baby atm but I hope it makes sense it’s very inspired first and foremost by pacific rim and then also NGE (mostly through consumption of YouTube vids bc I haven’t actually watched it pls don’t hate me) it’s a whole mess of things and Dabi is kind of a bitch and reader is slowly coming into herself and at the end of the day they both wanna be metal fused to one another forever (no matter how hard he denies it) also I’m not a huge computer person idk if this title makes sense so don’t make fun of me pls ok anyways I hope u like it!!!!

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, pilot!Dabi x handler!reader, there’s no explicit sexual content in this part, not even a kiss sorry guys, mentions of robot gore (exposed wires, insides described as guts), brief descriptions of being trapped inside a small space, descriptions of burning while inside said space, mention of surgery to fashion a metal jaw onto someone, mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic just allusions to the todoroki family and touya’s past), angst, many run on sentences, a small cliff hanger

Words: 7.9k

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 (coming soon)

You are nothing without your machine.

It’s the first rule, the first thing beaten into his brain by his father. You carry the burden of the mech alone, or you’re weak. You don’t exist.

U.A. raises the best and brightest pilots, navigators, mechanics, and handlers, each one carefully trained to ensure the most important outcome: winning. It should be protection. It should be defense. But if Touya has learned anything at all, it’s that winning means glory. It means worship. It means HERO’s (Human Engineered Robotic Objects) are saints, and pilots are gods.

Touya used to be one of those best and brightest before his accident.

First son to Enji Todoroki, Touya was supposed to be the golden child, the first Todoroki to pilot without a handler. He was supposed to carry the burden alone, something his father couldn’t do, something only one man has ever actually been capable of.

But Touya is born weak, bad bones, a brain unable to handle all that the mech needs to unload onto it. One too many accidents results in him being expelled from the pilot program, his HERO discarded and collecting dust in its pod, and Touya is promptly transferred to mechanics.

It should have been a smooth transition. If one kid can’t handle it, the next will. Because they have to.

He doesn’t take the news well. It’s a fit of tears, a persistent fight, unable to accept the loss of his machine—of his body. Because Touya loves it. What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in pure passion, and despite being unable to handle the burden, there’s no denying that he’s good. He’s almost perfect.

But almost is not enough for Enji Todoroki, and no matter how hard Touya tries, he’s made up his mind.

After months of mechanics, Touya makes a decision. When the next fleet of HERO’s is deployed for the next kaiju battle, Touya sneaks in among the chaos, tucked neatly inside the chest of his machine where he belongs. It doesn’t take long for things to go south, for Touya to get caught in the crossfire, losing control of his mech and burning from the inside out.

It should be an excruciating death, stuck inside a machine made for war, fire raining from above as a battle continues on outside without him.

But he survives, because what he lacks in strength, he makes up for in resilience, and his mech is programed with solutions to every situation. He’s stuck inside for months before he’s found.

Tomura Shigaraki rescues him, pries open the chest of his mech and pulls him from inside. His group feeds him, takes him in, fashions a new jaw for him made from the metal of his mech, and allows him the decision to join their cause or go back home.

And since there’s no home to go back to, Touya finds his footing with the league and becomes one of their top pilots. One who vehemently resists any and all handlers.

…

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler.

Following closely behind Tenko, formerly Tomura, he quickly explains to you the in’s and out’s of the pilot/handler relationship, along with a warning about Dabi’s resentment toward the whole idea. You try to keep up, but he talks quickly and uses his hands a lot. Even so, you can tell he’s a natural leader, something he had to grow into after overthrowing the man who raised him. His story is a tragic one, and it resonates with you because Tenko came out the other side stronger. Now, the league is a community with a cause, one you really believe in. Even if you and Dabi aren’t the right fit, you still have a place here.

You follow Tenko into what he calls the garage, a large floor of the abandoned academy that serves as the league’s base, this part of it full of HERO’s and mechanics all focused on the machines in front of them. It’s completely different from how HERO’s were worked on at UA, where you grew up, and even the PLF didn’t have one dedicated floor to this sort of work. You can feel the energy of the room buzzing on your skin, music blasting from old radios and mechanics tossing tools towards one another in a familiar routine. Tomura leads you to Dabi and his HERO, Blue, though you’re instructed not to call it a HERO around him. With goggles over his eyes and gloved hands, he brings two wires from Blue’s ankle together, sighing at the way they spark each time they connect.

“Dabi.” Tomura calls over the music coming from the radio hanging off of Dabi’s waist. He drops the wires and his gaze flickers toward the two of you. Pushing his goggles up to his forehead, he gives you a once over. His eyes are the brightest you’ve ever seen—kaiju blood blue—and burn scars litter his body. He’s striking in a way you’ve never seen, almost too beautiful to be human. Giving Dabi your name, Tomura explains that you’re taking over as his handler, seeing as he couldn’t keep the last one for more than a couple of days. “She’s your last handler. If you can’t keep this one, then go ahead and fry your brain. See if I care.”

“You say that every time.” Dabi calls from around sucker as Tomura walks away, leaving you alone with your new pilot.

You just your hand out in a greeting, “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Eyeing your hand, Dabi shakes his head and turns his back to you, picking the two wires back up and connecting them again, despite the same spark from before igniting between the two. He looks back up at Blue, touching his fingers to the slim lines starting at the back of her ankle and running all the way up her leg. You peak over his shoulder at the wiring, noticing that he’s connecting two of the wrong ones.

“It’s the wrong wire.” You tell him, and he spins around to look at you, tearing his goggles from his face as he scoffs.

“Here we go.” He sighs with a roll of his eyes, pulling the candy from his lips and tossing it onto the tool cart without a care. “Handler know-it-all bullshit. This is my mech.”

You push passed him and grab the similarly colored wire from beside a red wire and connect it with the one in Dabi’s right hand. Blue lights up cyan through the thin lines that run along each of its limbs and torso, connecting with the two cameras within its head, which seem to blink before the light reaches them.

In an instant, you’re being pushed up against the hard metal, a strong arm over your chest—pinning you up against the HERO. Dabi, now having discarded his goggles, looks at you full of white, hot rage.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He growls. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity, eyes flickering between the snarl across his lips and his angry gaze. For a beat, you both freeze, the air suddenly charged like you’re waiting for one another to strike. Snapping yourself out of his hypnotic stare, you push against his chest, forcing him to let you go.

“If I’m going to be you’re handler, you’re going to have to trust me with her.” You remind him. He lets out a harsh laugh, like he can’t believe you would suggest such a ridiculous idea.

“I don’t trust anything but this machine.” He speaks, turning away from you to seal up the machine’s exposed wires. It’s a challenge you’re willing to accept.

“Well, I’m here to change that.” You tell him, before turning on your heel to leave him alone.

He thinks he’ll give you a week.

…

One of the worst parts of being assigned a handler, Touya thinks, is the way that pilot/handler living quarters are set up. He assumes the academy, before it was abandoned and turned into a base for the league, created this sort of set up so that handlers could keep a close eye on their pilots. The handlers Touya has burned through up until now also assumed the same.

The door that connects both the pilot’s and handler’s dorms doesn’t lock, and all of Touya’s past handlers have taken advantage of this fact. He’s been pulled out of bed far too early, pushed around and commanded and barked at. Most handlers behaved as if pilots belonged to them, which was the sentiment drilled into their brains from being thrown into such a fucked up system at a young age.—unless you were a pilot of status like a Todoroki. While he league dedicates a lot of its time to reversing these ideas, most handlers look at Touya like some kind of challenge, this arrogant pilot begging to be tamed. It never takes long for them to realize how easily he’s able to flip the switch on them. You’ll be no different.

But hours pass and you still haven’t entered. You don’t swing the door open and demand he apologize for his behavior earlier. You don’t try and punish him with training regimes, a command of a set of push ups, a schedule you expect him to follow, an extremely detailed meal plan. The entire evening comes and goes without so much as a sound on the other side of the door so he knows you’re even behind it.

He falls asleep unnerved by this, waking up late into the night in a cold sweat, expecting you to barge in, rip the covers from his body and demand to train together. When he wakes up (peacefully) the next morning, there’s no sign of you. He rises from his bed, drinks orange juice straight from the carton and eats a candy bar for breakfast. He fiddles with the navigation screen from his mech that stopped working a couple of days ago, tools spread out on the counter in front of him. Once he’s got the thing working again, your knock sounds from the unlocked door between the two of you. He thinks this might be it, the commands he expects to fall from your lips at the ready as he swings the door open, but you stand there, nervous, hands twitching as your eyes finally meet his.

Greeted by a shirtless Touya, hair mused from sleep, cargo pants hung low on his hips, dog tags swinging against his chest, his scars on display, unashamed and proud. The sight of him knocks the breath out of you, and you clear your throat in embarrassment, hoping your state of dreaming comes off as nerves rather than lust.

“Dabi. Or do you prefer Touya?” You smile. When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “I wanted to see if you wanted to eat breakfast together in the caf. I think we should start over. Yesterday was—”

You’re promptly cut off, “I already ate breakfast.”

With a harsh slam of the door, he leaves you stunned in your room.

You eat alone.

When you started as a pilot, back when you’d entered UA (a few years about Touya’s accident), you went into it believing you could change the world. The exam had placed you into the position of handler, and you were assigned a pilot who had always seemed a little frightened of you despite your obvious lack of authority. Bringing the fact up to your instructors did nothing. They all assured you that this was the ideal dynamic, that the handler always had the upper hand, but you hated that feeling. You weren’t a team like you expected to be; you were urged to control your pilot. You were there to keep them in line, not to be a pillar of support. The bond was never built on trust, and the soul link was always a looming threat. No matter how many pilots you went through, the link was never held as a gift, but a prison, something you would both be stuck with for the betterment of society, a sacrifice to make.

You’d been expelled from the handler program after guiding your pilot to help save another in the wreckage of your first battle together, resulting in the damage of your pilot’s HERO. Your pilot was okay, but the other couldn’t be saved, and you were blamed for the damage of both mech’s.

When you found the league (or when the league found you), you were working with the PLF, but proved to be a weak handler. Every pilot you were assigned to took advantage of your optimistic outlook on the kind of relationship dynamic that pilots had with their handlers. Despite all that you had been through at UA, and with the rest of the pilots you’d been paired with after, you never gave up the hope that handlers and pilots could behave as a team, or, even better, one entity.

Tenko had taken one look at you and demanded you’d be transferred to the league. There hadn’t been much of a choice in the matter, not that you really cared. You were miserable everywhere else. But when you arrived at the abandoned academy and taken a peak behind the kudzu covered walls where each and every area of the building acted as multiple moving parts in collaboration with one another in order to create one massive system, you realized that this was the future you imagined for yourself—and for the world you lived in.

Tenko saw something in you that day, something you aren’t sure you even see in yourself. And so Dabi was your first task, one that’s proving to be very difficult. But he doesn’t treat you like all the other pilots before had. He doesn’t use you. In fact, it seems like he wants nothing to do with you. And while that’s a problem, it’s still one you can work with.

You’re broken from your thoughts by the sound of a voice through an overhead intercom asking for everyone to meet on the first floor of the academy at their earliest convenience. Judging by the quick movements of those around you, you figure you’d better head downstairs as soon as possible.

The meeting on the first floor makes you very aware of just how small the league really is. While it’s definitely not a tiny organization, it’s still much smaller than both UA and the PLF. With everyone piled up like this in one group, you realize it feels more like a community, and the hum of conversation that surrounds you comforts you in a way you’ve never felt within the walls of any other academy before.

There’s discussion about the upcoming mission, one which may be the league’s most ambitious yet; the plan to hijack a mech and kidnap a pilot may be a little unorthodox compared to the league’s past missions, but the jaded pilot they’re targeting has a high chance of joining the cause. Or that’s what they have assumed. As the bodies move and speak around you, it strikes you how different this meeting is from any other meeting you’ve ever been a part of. Tenko is less a dictator and more a wrangler for the disembodied voices of your peers.

You don’t know much about his story, save for the vague details you’ve heard, but Tenko’s status as a lone handler is something you find yourself curious about. If he’s able to work without a pilot, why can’t you? It’s an idea you keep in your back pocket, one you think you can fall back on if things with Touya don’t work out. But you want them to work out. So badly.

You aren’t sure what it is about him, but he’s reignited that spark inside of you. You know he’d rather you give up, and maybe the you from a couple of months ago would have, but something about him—and this place—won’t let you leave.

As you observe the meeting, you take the time to look around the room, taking in your peers and their attentive faces as they listen to Tenko intently. You turn to your right, your eyes meeting a pair of blue ones, impossible to miss. Dabi holds your stare for what feels like ages, and when your colleagues erupt in a fit of many simultaneous discussions, you tear your eyes from his to observe the commotion. When you glance back in his direction, he’s gone.

You don’t seem him again after that. You train with other handlers, get to know your peers a little better. Everyone else seems to be welcoming, and most offer you sympathy when they find out you’re Touya’s new handler. From what you can gather, he’s had his fair share of them, all of which have quit or left in hysterics due to his harsh nature. When you ask around about where he could be, you’re told that he’s most likely in the garage, a place you assume he’s in more often than not.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to the garage. A place so completely different, so against the ideas and beliefs of any other academy you’ve been a part of, the chaos and community within is so foreign to you. You find Touya with Blue, working inside of her chest, where the cockpit is.

“Touya!” You call up to him and watch as he peaks his head over the edge of her metal plating. Annoyance falling across his face, he jumps down from where he stands, landing hard on his feet in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” He questions, his figure so tall and imposing above you. He’s not particularly muscular, not even all that tall compared to Tenko, but he makes you feel small regardless, in more ways than one. Rolling your shoulders back, you stare straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down.

“I figured you wanted your space today.” You explain, as Touya moves around you to get to his rolling cart of tools, forcing you to turn toward him and follow him if you want him to hear you. “I know adjusting to a new handler is rough, and I never want to make you uncomfortable. But I was thinking we could try some of those pilot/handler bonding exercises. It might be good to start training like some of the others do.”

He drops the wrench in his hand onto his cart with a loud thud, turning around toward you with a look of disbelief on his face. “Pilot/handler bonding exercises? They really brainwashed the shit out of you at UA, huh?”

At the mention of your past academy, your eyes widen in surprise. You had no idea he knew about that. Clearing your throat in order to compose yourself, you speak again, “I left UA for a reason. I have no attachment to their methods, but you guys do the same stuff here, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that I never asked for a fucking handler in the first place, especially not one as eager as you.” He spits, “Sure, you’re understanding now, all that bullshit about ‘giving me space,’ but the moment you get a lick of power over me, you’ll change. You’re not different.”

“I don’t want power over you. This is an equal exchange. Pilot’s and handlers are meant to be a team—” You try and argue, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“That’s what they told you, right? We’re a team, and as teammates, you make sacrifices. And it doesn’t matter if one of you turns into the other’s braindead dog because that’s your place.” His words hit you hard, the exact thought process you went through when leaving UA, completely disillusioned with their idea of “teamwork.” He’s right, and you know it, but since coming here, you thought that wasn’t how it had to be.

“Look, trust me, I get—” You’re cut off again.

“You went to UA! There’s no trusting you.” He scoffs, “It’s not like you’ll last here, anyway.”

“You are such a hypocrite! You’re from UA!” You retort, throwing your arms up in desperation. “You can hate me all you want. You can resist and resist and fry your brain ‘till there’s nothing left, but I believe in this shit. And you don’t get to tell me that I don’t, or tell me I’ll turn into something I worked so hard to get away from.”

Touya stands there, surprised by your outburst, completely unaware that you were capable of all of that. He doesn’t say anything back, and you roll your eyes. “So fuck you, and, by the way, her angel port is smoking.”

At your words, he turns in a rush, seeing the smoke billowing from Blue’s chest as he climbs his way up her form. Once inside his machine, he extinguishes the port and allows himself to relax. There are two things on his mind in this moment: how you could have possibly known it was the angel port without being inside of Blue’s chest and how, for the first time in a long time, he feels bad for his handler.

But for you, it’s the first time you’ve ever held your own against a pilot before, and that feels good.

…

Something feels weird.

Off, unsettling, strange.

He realizes, much to his dismay, that it’s your absence. Despite only having you around for such a short time, Touya has realized that your lack of presence now feels wrong. He hates it. He hates you.

He can’t find you. You haven’t knocked on his door. You’re not in the caf, not the garage, not the sparring floor, not in your room. And he did check—without knocking.

He’s not even sure how he can feel an absence. You aren’t a regular part of his life, and he never wanted you to be. But he feels all fucked up.

During training, Touya jams Blue’s halo core and she leaks vibrant neon from between her ribs. It takes him half an hour to get her reboot her system and rips one of the cables attached to the back of his suit in the process. He spends the afternoon cleaning HERO fluid off the sparring floor.

During repairs, he shocks himself over and over while trying to fix her core, fingers burning from the sparks each time he arranges the wires inside. The cameras in her eyes won’t work from the reboot, and Blue won’t let him unlock the lens panel to fix it. It’s almost like she’s mad at him too.

He’s a complete mess. It’s your fault. He has no choice but to go looking for you. Again.

He searches every wing of the academy before concluding that you’re in your room. He barges through the joint door, spotting you at the counter in your tiny kitchen. You’re surprised by the intrusion, a frightened gasp falling from your lips as you jump in your seat. You turn toward him, prepared with angry words on your tongue, but Touya speaks first.

“You’re not getting an apology out of me, so don’t expect it.” He begins, moving to stand in front of your swiveling kitchen stool as he looks down at you. “But I’m willing to be civil with you, so we don’t have to do this shit anymore.”

You’re not exactly sure what “this shit” is, but Touya looks a little worse for wear at the moment, so you don’t question it. He places a tray from the caf down in front of you that you hadn’t noticed in his hands upon arrival, says nothing else, and turns to leave the room. After shutting your joint door, you look down at the tray of food, noticing one of his suckers placed onto a vacant compartment of the tray.

You’re greeted the next morning with a knock on your door, Touya dressed in his pilot’s suit on the other side as you swing the door open. “C’mon. You’re gonna watch me train today.”

You watch him turn around to leave, expecting you to follow. You rush to pull on your combat boots and grip your dog tags in your fist as you rush to catch up to him. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you fall into step beside him, taking a look around his dorm before he leads you through the exit door.

“You need to get a feel for my fighting style.” He explains as you walk down the corridor. “I’m not saying I’ll listen to you when it comes down to it, but it’s important for you to know.”

You nod, agreeing that you should definitely observe him inside of his HERO. By understanding his moves, you’ll be able to understand the way he thinks, and you’ll be able to help him in actual combat if needed. He’s already said he won’t listen to you, but it won’t stop you from trying. He stops abruptly, turning to look at you, and you stop with him.

“If we’re gonna do this, it’ll be on my terms. I’m not your dog.” He tells you, seriously. He eye’s you up and down, taking in your expression as you nod at his words. “If anything, you’re mine.”

He begins walking again, leaving you in your spot, irritation filling your chest as you watch him, smug. “Asshole.” You curse under your breath.

“What’d you say?” He barks, turning to look at you abruptly.

“You’re an asshole.” You speak louder. He walks back toward you, making sure to tower over you intimidatingly as he looks down at you in annoyance. His eyes flicker down to the tags around your neck before hooking a finger on the chain and pulling you closer.

“Watch it.” He drops the chain and walks away again.

You follow him to the sparring floor, and he shows you where to go to watch. Stood behind a large window that looks over the sparring area, other members of the base watch the HERO’s engage in combat below. You spot Tenko and he motions for you to stand beside him.

“I knew he’d warm up to you.” He comments. The last of the previous battle finishes and you watch the two enormous machines retreat to the sides of the area, their pilots emerging from their chests with their handlers rushing to the bottom of the mech’s in support.

“He hasn’t. He’s not.” You shake your head. You aren’t sure why you deny it, if it’s some way to keep your expectations low or if there’s some kind of embarrassment aspect to the whole thing. Whatever is happening between you and Touya feels intimate and private, something that the two of you need to figure out for yourselves, not something meant for the eyes of others.

“Hm. Okay.” Tenko shrugs. “Guess not.”

You hadn’t noticed Touya enter his mech at all. You see the swing of one giant mechanic arm, too close to the window you stand behind, and you’ve shifted your full attention to the scene at hand.

The enormity of the room surprises you, despite the fact that you had seen it just moments before. But when you’re truly looking at it, watching these huge machines go at each other, the way the ground shakes, the leaves outside shake, the deep forrest clear in view from the wall that opens out to the greenery (the lack of a wall is likely from the academy’s abandoned state, but it’s a good feature to have on the sparring floor when giant robots are toppled over onto various surfaces).

The way Blue moves is electric, mechanic movements almost feel fluid with the way that Touya pilots her, easily dodging attacks from their opponent and moving around them in the most graceful way a giant machine can. It’s beautiful, unlike any fighting style you’ve ever seen in a HERO before.

“He’s showing off for you.” Tenko observes from beside you. You don’t argue with him, only because you can’t dispute it. This is your first time seeing him in action. It makes your heart beat out of your chest. There’s this ache like you should be inside with him, cables connected to both of you, tucked neatly inside of Blue together.

It doesn’t take him long to get his opponent on their back, the heavy thump against the floor jostling the ant-like figures on the ground below, handlers waiting for their pilots to finish. It goes on like this for a while, his training, using different methods of combat and winning each time. He’s amazing, and you can tell why his reputation is the way it is, second only to Tenko, who you have yet to see in action.

When he finishes his last session, you watch Blue walk to the edge of the room, and Touya emerges from her chest, jumping the long way down her body without any issue. You watch as he looks toward the window you’re behind. He waves at you, an acknowledgment of your presence, and you wave back, though you aren’t sure he can actually see you.

It’s the beginning of everything for the two of you. You think Tenko was right.

He lets you stay with him afterwards while he does maintenance on Blue. He helps you climb up the path to her chest, hauling you over the edge to sit inside with him. He turns around abruptly, holding a hand up before allowing you to walk any further.

“Do not touch anything.” He warns, completely serious, before letting his hand fall and allowing you further into the cockpit. You take in your surroundings, the guts of his machine, analyzing the different control panels and screens that line the interior. You can tell he takes good care of her, and he spends a lot of time in here. It looks lived in, stickers stuck to metal plating and pieces of him all over. He’s made a second home in between the ribs of his mech. You feel a little jealous, though you aren’t sure of what.

The two of you sit against the left side of Blue’s interior, waiting for her updates to finish, the loading screen on each of her monitors display a fire graphic that grows with the increasing percentage on screen. Between you and Touya sits an opened bag of sour gummies, which Touya picks out the lemon flavor and drops the candy in your palm with each new handful he gathers.

“How do you know all this stuff?” He questions around a mouthful of sour cherry, “Like, the real names for things, where stuff goes, how to fix them. That day with the wires…”

“I spent a lot of time around mechanics at UA, and then also at the PLF.” You explain, picking the yellow colored candy from his open palm as you speak. “I couldn’t connect with other handlers. I didn’t like how they thought, or how they viewed the pilot/handler relationship. Mechanics were mostly neutral, and they loved these machines like nothing else. They reminded me of why I joined UA in the first place.”

“Hm.” He nods, thinking about your past. “Well, I guess if you spent so much time around actual professionals…I could maybe use your help sometimes in the garage.”

“Really?” You question excitedly, a spark lighting up your eyes as you swerve your head toward him. He feels something tight in his chest at the sight.

“Yes, but only on the outside. I don’t want you messing with her insides, yet.” He establishes. “And never alone. I have to be there at all times.”

“Of course, yes, oh my god. Touya!” You smile, gripping his shoulder firmly, a gesture of thanks, communication of how much his trust means to you. “I’ll be so careful with her, I promise.”

“Yeah, well, you have no other choice.” He shrugs, throwing another pile of candy in his mouth. “I’ll kill you if anything happens to her.”

You take the threat seriously, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s realized that you’ve wormed your way into his life and he hadn’t even noticed just how entangled you were now.

As the weeks go by, you spend a lot more time together. You work on blue together, and you rest inside of her chest, sometimes allowing yourself to drift off against his shoulder on especially tiring days. He sits beside you in the caf, and while he doesn’t always say much, the feeling of his arm against yours is comforting. You can tell people are starting to notice, and they’re starting to talk. You’re being dubbed someone who’s tamed him, but you know how far from the truth that is.

Despite your differences and the petty arguments that come up when Touya feels like you’re intruding on his independence, you’re growing attached. You wonder if he is, too.

…

Spending time together in the garage becomes the new normal for the two of you. Being in each other’s dorms feels far too intimate, so you always meet in the garage. This way, one of you is always busy doing something with your hands. There’s no room for any strange feelings in the pit of your stomach to seep in.

You sit in the crook of Blue’s neck, watching Touya as he repairs the lenses in her “eyes.” Blue has three pairs of eyes; in her head, her chest, and down near her hips, which all footage is projected onto monitors inside the cockpit so that Touya has a full view of what’s in front of him.

He’s so peaceful while he works, you’ve noticed, almost like he goes somewhere else completely. It’s a part of him you don’t think many people get to see, a piece of him just for you, and you want to be selfish with it.

“Can I ask you something?” You question, leaning your head back against the metal. “But you can’t get mad.”

He looks up at you, still fiddling with a lens, a mocking look on his face. “I’m not making any promises.”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the possible fallout of the question you’re about to ask, “What do you think about the soul link?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’d never do it.”

You nod your head in understanding, “yeah, I get it. It’s weird, right? The idea that someone else would be inside your brain.”

“It’s fucking invasive.” He says.

“You know, at UA it always felt like a threat, you know. Like, it was a way for a handler to control their pilot, not a tool or a bond like it should be.” You begin, thinking back to how you viewed the soul link back then. You didn’t like how the bond was presented as this power that a handler holds over their pilot, a threat to keep their pilot in line. But, you could understand how the link could be used for good. “But since coming here, I can tell it’s not all bad. People trust each other here. I mean, there’s obviously some people who abuse it, but, for the most part, everyone seems to understand what it really means to be a pilot and a handler.”

You’re mostly just thinking out loud, but Touya doesn’t say anything to your ramblings. He continues to work on the lenses, and you can gather that he doesn’t want to talk about the subject anymore. But you can’t let it go, yet. There’s something you’ve been worried about since you met him.

“And what about…your brain? They say when a handler and a pilot don’t complete the soul link, the pilot will eventually fry their brain.” You can’t help it. You think about it all the time, what will happen when he can’t take it anymore. The closer you get to him, the realer it feels. “Are you ever worried about that?”

He looks at you, an expression you can’t quite make out fall across his face as he stares. It’s almost soft, the way he looks at you in this moment. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

The truth is, this is a reality Touya has accepted. He’s not afraid to die, and he never has been. He’ll probably die inside of Blue, and he has no problem with that fact. He doesn’t need to be around for long, just enough to show his dad what he’s capable of.

“C’mon.” You stare. “That’s not fair.”

“Shit. I left some of the screws for this in my dorm.” He curses. He looks where you lounge, tucked into Blue’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

You watch him jump down, much higher than his usual height at her chest, but he lands anyway. He doesn’t turn to look back at you as he jogs away. You climb up the side of Blue, and look at the lenses in her head. They’re already repaired, and you know Touya used the excuse of missing screw just so he wouldn’t have to talk about the soul link.

But it’s the first time he’s ever left you alone with Blue before.

…

As the mission draws closer, Touya throws himself into training. You’re on the training floor with him most days, standing behind that big glass panel as you watch him spar with his peers. He still doesn’t let you down on the floor with him until he’s full out of Blue and close enough to the edge of the sparring floor to get to you. You’re not allowed in the actual training area, and even though he says he doesn’t want you clinging to him, it’s really because he wants to keep you safe. Seeing your human body near the giant machines that are HERO’s makes him want to grab you and keep you inside of Blue’s chest forever.

You can tell all the training is taking a toll on him. With an excess of headaches and the occasional nosebleed, you continuously get into arguments about him cutting back on training inside of Blue. There are other ways for him to prepare that don’t involve his fragile brain being hooked up to an entity that takes so much. He doesn’t listen.

Later and later into the night, as your fellow pilots and handlers disperse and return to their rooms to sleep, Touya stays inside of Blue, testing her movements and sparring against test dummies and obstacles. Once you and Touya are the only two left on the sparring floor, you speak into the intercom attached to your head.

“Touya, I think you should take a break.” You tell him, “It’s late. Get some rest and then we can pick it back up in the morning.”

There’s a pause, then, “I’m gonna stay for another hour. Get some sleep. I’ll be done soon.”

“No, Touya. You’ve been at it for hours. You barely took a break for dinner. C’mon.”

“You know, you sound awfully like a handler trying to tell their pilot what to do.” He teases, but you can hear the irritation in his voice.

“You are insufferable. I’m worried about you.” You groan.

“I’m fine. Go sleep.” He insists.

“If I find out you aren’t out of here in an hour—” Your line is promptly cut off, leaving behind static in your ear. You sigh and throw your com to the side. You hope he’s telling the truth.

With one last look at Blue, you make your way out of the training floor and find your way back to your dorm.

Touya doesn’t answer the door when you knock the next morning. With a frustrated groan, you leave your dorm and head to the training floor, assuming he woke up early to get some extra hours in. The closer you get the the floor, you notice other members of the base rushing in front of you. Feeling panicked, you pick up the pace, jogging toward the training room to make sure something isn’t wrong. You collide with a body in front of you, nearly falling to the floor as you steady yourself. Toga stands in front of you, her cheeks red and eyes glossy as she explains something your mind can’t catch up to understand. The only thing you recognize is his name, and you’re running toward the training floor in an instant.

You watch as Blue stomps around the area, her arms swinging in all directions, losing her footing as she moves. Knowing you can’t do anything on the floor, you make your way up to the overlook, finding Tenko yelling into your intercom.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” You ask him, pulling the headset off of his head and placing it on yours instead.

“He’s out of fucking control. He won’t answer. I don’t even think he’s conscious in there.” He tells you, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots in anxiety. “You’re not linked yet, are you?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes in frustration as you try to think. You know it’s the only way. You have to take some of the burden off of him, make him share it with you. It’s the only way he’ll survive right now. “Do you think you can get into Decay right now and knock him down somehow?”

He hesitates, “I can get inside. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to touch him at all.”

“You have to.” You plead, desperately. “I just need him down for ten seconds, tops. As long as I can get inside of her, I can save him.”

He looks at you like you’re insane, and maybe you are. But you know you can’t live with yourself if you don’t try something. Tenko nods.

“I can do it.” He tells you. You rush passed him, following the stairs down to the training area. You feel Tenk grab your wrist firmly. “You bring him back, okay?”

“I will.” You nod.

He dodges Blue’s movements, weaving between her legs as he finally makes it to Decay. It takes a few moments for him to connect, but he goes straight for Blue. You watch the giant machines fight one another, but it’s clear that Blue’s lack of control hinders much of her ability. She needs Touya just as much as he needs her. It’s tough for Decay to dodge her swinging arms, but Tenko manages to knock her down quickly.

The fall shakes the room, but you waste no time running for Blue. Climbing over the side of her, you manage to touch your thumb to the pad on the outside to open her chest up. She begins to stand up, and you slip down, grabbing onto a bar beneath her ribcage. You let out a frustrated groan as you try to pull yourself up over the edge of the cockpit. Finally making it over, you see Touya sitting there, still connected to his pilot’s chair, eyes glazed over and blood gushing from his nose. You push the button that closes the panel in Blue’s chest, and you’re suddenly alone with him.

Touya’s body is being jerked around by the movement of the mech, and you hang onto the walls of her chest in order to make your way to him. You situate yourself in his lap, taking his head in your hands as you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“You fucking asshole! I told you to take a break.” You sob, resting your head against his as you try and think of what to do next. “Touya, please. Please, baby, I need to you come back. Just fucking come back so I don’t have to do this without your permission, please.”

With no response from him, you wipe your tears, coming to terms with the fact that you have to complete the soul link now, or he’ll die. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Touya. Please forgive me.”

The soul link isn’t exactly an action so much as it is a feeling, an experience. There’s no trigger for it, no way to make it happen. It just begins.

It’s Touya, aged thirteen, wild, chubby-cheeked and happy, in the pilot’s seat of his father’s HERO. It’s his drive, his determination, his anger, his hurt. It’s the day he snuck into battle, the day he couldn’t get out, flesh burning and fusing to the metal walls of his mech, the feeling now deep in your skin. It’s you, aged fifteen, hopeful, alive, shaking hands with your first pilot. It’s your heart, much too big and much too open for your line of work, it’s your passion, your fire, every piece of you that was broken down again and again until there was nothing left. It’s Touya and it’s you, and every single bit of your souls now tied together in one big knot.

There’s nothing but darkness. And then there’s screaming. And then you can hear everything. Every thought running through Touya’s brain right now echoes in your head as you slowly come back to yourself. He can hear the same of yours.

It’s overwhelming at first, to have two sets of thoughts in your head at the same time, but you manage to focus. You can feel an anger inside of you like you’ve never felt. It’s almost like it’s your own. You need to come back. You’ve lost control of Blue.

In an instant, you feel yourself come back to your body, now straddling Touya like before, you feel his arms shoot around you and he tucks his chin over your shoulder to pilot Blue like he’s used to doing. He pays no mind as he presses up against you, but you feel your heart rate increase at the closeness.

He’s so close.

I have to be. You’re in my lap.

Shit. I didn’t think—

Clearly.

I can’t fucking believe you. I told you we weren’t going to do this.

You were dying!

Then you fucking let me!

You’re jostled around in his lap for a moment as he stops Blue from destroying any more of the training floor, and Touya wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady.

He gains control of her quickly, moving her toward the edge of the room. You tuck your face into his neck, not wanting to distract him and keeping your thoughts at bay so you don’t overwhelm him. He powers Blue down, severing the neural connection between the two of you, and shoves you from his lap and into the pilot’s chair like you’ve burned him. He storms out of the cockpit, climbing out of his machine and leaving you inside. You think about the argument you had within each other’s head, how Touya would have rather died than be linked to you like he is now.

You slump against the seat, comforted by the metal cage you’ve been left inside of.

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #tw claustrophobia #just in case it’s like so brief and doesn’t describe much yet but I just wanna be safe #ghost.writes #ghost.fic

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worldlxvlys · 1 year ago

Note

Can you pls make a fix where reader smokes with a guy friend after Chris says it’s not a good idea but the stuff she smokes is laced and the friend tries to make a couple moves but Chris steps in last minute and beats up the friend and then brings her home and takes care of her? Maybe before they are official they are still dealer and costumer

here for you

dwb! chris x reader

warnings: reader gets laced, unwanted touches, vomit, violence, blood (please please read with caution)

a/n: hope you like, also we’re just gonna name the dude jake and keep it pushin

dwb! chris masterlist

with that, i rolled my eyes and placed my phone down. i heard it vibrate again, but ignored it, missing his response.

“i’m coming over.”

“everything ok?” jake asked, noting my annoyed expression.

“yup, let’s do this” i said, watching him pull out two pre-rolled joints. we were sat on my front porch, a good amount of distance between us.

“oh wow, got me my own and everything” i said, as he lit mine and passed it to me.

“of course, princess. anything for you” it felt wrong, hearing someone other than chris call me that. i felt like i was cheating on him, which is crazy, considering we’re not together.

i brought the joint up to my lips, inhaling and taking slow puffs of the smoke. i closed my eyes while exhaling, enjoying the feeling that washed over me.

jake did the same with his joint, and i could feel his eyes burn into the side of my head.

“you starting to feel it?” he asked. i opened my eyes and realized he was suddenly a lot closer to me than he had originally been.

this was weird. usually when i’d smoke i would feel a sense of relaxation and happiness, almost in a state of euphoria.

now? i was feeling very relaxed. too relaxed.

my body felt light and my brain was fuzzy.

“oh yeah, you’re feeling it baby” he said as he brought his hand to my face, caressing it.

“you’re so pretty baby” he whispered in my ear as he brought his hands to my waist.

“jake? what are ya doin’?” i mumbled out, i could barely keep my eyes open.

“don’t worry about it baby, just close your eyes” his hand started rubbing my thigh as he brought his face to my neck

“please stop” i whispered, wanting to push him off but not having the energy to.

i was so out of it, i didn’t hear the heavy footsteps traveling up the steps of my front porch.

“yo, she said stop” chris.

chris pulled jake off of me by the collar of his shirt. he didn’t hesitate to pull his arm back, and swing. all that was heard was the sickening crack as his fist collided with jake’s nose.

jake let out a cry as he fell to the ground.

i couldn’t even keep up with what was happening. in contrast to the instant lightness my body had when i started to smoke, my body was now heavy. it felt like i was being held down by a million weights.

chris climbed on top of jake, and landed blow after blow. he threw punch after punch leaving jake’s face bruised and bloodied.

“chris?” i called out, wanting him close to me.

this seemed to make chris snap out of his angry state, as he rushed over to me.

he took in my drowsy state, his eyes softening.

“jesus ma” he whispers as he picks me up bridal style.

“you’re ok baby, i promise. i’m gonna take care of you” he said as he gave my forehead a kiss.

he then carried me to his car, buckling me in and giving my hand a squeeze, “i’ll be right back, ma”

he walked over to jake and pulled him up by the collar, whispering something in his ear before letting go of him and coming back to the car.

once we arrived at his house, he picked me up again and carried me to the door.

he put me down briefly, to push his key in the door and open it, then proceeded to pick me up and carry me to his room.

as soon as we got to his room, he placed me on his bed.

suddenly, i began to feel nauseous.

“chris- toilet” he seemed to understand what i was trying to say, and quickly helped me to his bathroom.

as i hovered over the toilet, i threw up my stomach’s contents making my throat burn and eyes water.

he pulled my hair back, and rubbed my back soothingly.

“ok, baby. it’s ok, let it out”

once i finished, i started to fall back as chris caught me. he wrapped one arm around me, the other flushing the toilet.

“i’m sorry chris, so sorry”

“don’t apologize, ma. that’s what i’m here for. you got me, i’m not going anywhere” he said as he continued to rub my back.

“chris, i feel so disgusting” i mumbled.

“i know, baby. do you wanna take a bath?” i nodded my head.

“ok, is it alright if i help you? i don’t want anything to happen to you, ma” he asked.

“yes, chris. thank you for asking first”

“of course, ma. don’t wanna make you uncomfortable”

“ok don’t move, i’ll be right back” he said as he leaned me against the wall.

he quickly went back to his room, grabbing a towel and clean clothes for me to change into.

when he got back, he began to run the bath water and adjusted the temperature to my liking.

while the water continued to run, he helped me brushed my teeth.

once the water was done, he undressed me, and helped me into the water.

he rubbed the soap onto my skin gently, constantly checking to see if i was ok or if he was making me uncomfortable.

when he finished, he helped me dry off and put on his clean clothes.

once back in his room, he sat me down on his bed.

“do you want space or cuddles?” he asked, very careful not to cross any boundaries.

“cuddles please”

with that, he sat down next to me and opened his arms. i leaned up against him, placing my head on his chest. “thank you, chris”

i said before drifting off to sleep.

he watched me sleep, feeling my heartbeat against his own.

“i’ll always be here for you” he whispered.

———————

idk if y’all have caught onto this but i’ve never smoked a day in my life😭

me and google were like this 🤞🏾 while writing

hope you enjoyed <333

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @chrissturnioloswifey @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @sosmatt @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo texts #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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stars4gojo · 1 year ago

Text

Invisible string

Dad!Gojo x Fem!reader // Young Megumi and Tsumiki mentioned at the end // fluff angst if you squint, found family trope // 1k words

(Not proofread pls don’t kill me for any spelling or grammar mistakes)

Megumi is yet again in another fight but refuses to open up about this one leaving you and Gojo confused and worried

One single thread of gold tied me to you

More of my work 🤍

You’re sitting in the teachers lounge at Jujutsu high alongside Shoko, who’s drinking her daily dose of caffeine while you go through your paperwork.

You pay no mind when Gojo flops on the couch next to you whining loudly to grab your attention.

You ignore it the first time, you let it slide the second but now it’s the third time and you’re slowly losing your patience.

“You’re just really gonna leave me hanging like this?” Gojo asks raising his blindfold from one eye so he can see you clearly.

You let out a deep sigh as you turn towards him giving him a deadpanned look.

“I’m busy right now Satoru.” You replied as you went back to finishing up paperwork.

“Too busy for me? Your strong, beautiful, handsome boyfriend?” Gojo asked and you could almost hear the pout forming on his lips.

Shoko let out a little chuckle, “You sure he’s good mopping around like that?” She asked in amusement.

“Let him be, he’s probably gonna complain about Megumi again.” You replied as if you were used to his antics.

“Megumi..?” Shoko questioned as she pondered to herself you just shook your head in response with a smile tugging on your lips at your friend’s forgetfulness.

“Ah! The Zenin child?” Shoko asked as she snapped her fingers and you only hummed in response.

“So Gojo what about the Zenin?” Shoko asked now turning her attention towards your sulky man child.

“Well I’m glad you asked Shoko, unlike some people here.” Gojo replied, suddenly energetic - putting emphasis on the word some.

“He has a great technique and potential but he’s just, so ugh what’s the word for it..” Gojo started as he thought about his word choices.

“Satoru if you’re here to complain to us about how you’re getting bullied by a 7 year old we don’t wanna hear about it.” You replied while a little chuckle escaped your mouth.

Gojo squinted his eyes at you as he continued, “Well you wouldn’t know how it feels! Cause as soon as you’re there he’s all rainbows and unicorns and suddenly wants to eat all of his vegetables and wants to brush his teeth on time.” He rolled his eyes.

You got up from your seat making way to the couch, holding his face in your hands.

“I’m sorry Toru.” You said as his eyes lit up. “Is there anything I can help with?” You added.

“You two make me sick” Shoko spoke under her breath as she got up making her way out of the room.

“Megumi got in a fight again in school and he’s refusing to do any training today.” Gojo said with a sigh.

“He got into another WHAT?” Satoru i told you to contact me when this happens. Did you get called into school? God please help me if you told him to use cursed energy when he gets into fight again because I will NOT be holding back.” You spoke fast, clearly distressed.

“Relax y/n I spoke to the teacher and I did not tell him to tuck his thumb this time or use cursed energy.” He said and you could only sign in relief.

“It’s just that he…he’s not sharing why he fought in the first place.” Gojo started speaking as his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Well usually, he says that they were bullies but this time his mouth his shut couldn’t even get him to open up during a froyo session.” Gojo added.

“So please just talk to him? You always seem to know what to say and he likes you more anyways.” Gojo asked and your heart melted a little at his sincerity.

“Ok, I’ll pick him up from school tomorrow and I’ll speak to him. You don’t worry about it you big baby.” You replied as you pinched his cheeks.

So, this is how you found yourself picking up Megumi from school and he was more than shocked to see you waving at exactly pickup time - Gojo almost always runs late or sends Ijichi to pick him up instead.

“Hi Megumi how was school.” You asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“You’re not at work today?” Megumi asked as he put his eyebrows up in question.

“Well I wanted to talk to you Megumi, why’d you get into a fight yesterday hm?” You asked softly, being extra cautious.

“I told him not to tell you, I knew you’d be mad.” Megumi huffed out.

“Mad? Gumi I’m not mad at all i just wanna know why it happened so I can help you.” You replied looking at him through the rear-view mirror.

“Well they were saying mean things.” He huffed again folding his arms to his chest.

“Were they saying mean things to someone else? Or was it about you Megumi? You need to tell me so I can help you.” You asked gently.

“It was nothing you need to worry about.” Megumi harshly spoke back and you could only frown in response.

“I won’t be mad.” You added.

“They said mean things about me.” He replied after a minute of silence.

“What did they say Megumi?” You asked again.

“They said I don’t have a real dad or mom and that their moms tell them to not hang out with me cause you and Gojo are weird.” He said avoiding eye contact, embarrassed about getting worked up over something like this.

You gave him a tight lipped smile in response, not knowing where to start.

“You don’t have say anything I don’t have a mom or dad but it’s okay cause I’ve got you guys.” He said, almost murmuring as a light blush formed on his already rosy cheeks.

“You’re right Megumi, you don’t have a mom or dad but you have me and Gojo. You know we love you and Tsumiki a lot so next time someone says anything about you or our family you go straight to a teacher or tell me or Gojo and we will figure it out hm?” You asked turning around for a second to give him a reassuring smile as he nodded in response.

“Right, you do know that you owe Satoru an apology for yesterday? Skipping out on lessons and being mean to him.” You questioned while raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah yeah I’ll do that.” He spoke putting his head down in shame as you could only giggle.

To be fair those parents were not wrong, Gojo definitely gave everyone the wrong impression from his immature humour and Megumi’s dad did walk out on him but, that’s okay because your little, slightly dysfunctional family is now his home and forever.

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

Text

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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midnightfictionlibrary · 1 year ago

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Tennessee Whiskey - Jamie TarttxFem!Reader

Tennessee Whiskey - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

Content : tenderness, flirting, friends to lovers, love triangle, jealousy

Word Count : 1.7k

Plot Summary : Out at a quirky themed bar with the team, Jamie approaches the reader to apologize for what he deems as dickish behavior. Flirty words turn to a tender moment, but the reader doesn’t realize someone else is pining after her.

A/N : This was a fun piece to write! Still on my Jamie Tartt bs, bc I love him so much. As always, pls like and reblog if you enjoy it, and let me know if you would possibly want a part 2??

Music drifted through the speakers in the tiny, hokey, Southern American themed bar, and you sighed, eyeing Ted and Beard singing along jovially. You took a sip of your sickeningly sweet sweet tea, just the way you liked it. You had come along to London with Ted and Beard to continue your job as their personal assistant. Let’s face it, they needed help keeping up with everything that needed to be kept track of, and you were the one for the job. Sure, you were younger, but you had proven yourself a capable office manager back in Kansas.

Your view of the two men was obstructed by another, admittedly more handsome man. Jamie. Your breath hitches slightly, and you cover it with another sip of your drink. You had grown a friendship with the young player, and considered him someone you could go to for anything and everything. What Jamie didn’t know, however, is that you had deep feelings for him, and care about him more than anyone else.

“Hi Jamie!” You chirp, setting your empty drink glass on the bar. Jamie peers at you, looking at the drink you had sat down. You rarely drank alcohol, so this was a rare form for you. You follow his gaze, snorting slightly. “It’s sweet tea, no alcohol. What brings you to my dingy little corner of the bar?” You ask, stepping a bit closer to him, feigning needing to hear him better.

“I came to apologize.” He says, his lips close enough to brush your ear. You pull back, eyebrows knitting together out of concern.

“Apologize for what?” You ask, going through every interaction you had with him recently, coming up short. “You’re worrying me, Jamie.” You say, studying his face.

“I feel like I’ve been a prick lately, and I’m sorry. I’ve been stressed about the Man City game, and you know me dad-”

You hold up a hand to stop him. “Jamie, you haven’t been a dick to me at all, ok? I get that you’re stressed, and your dad sucks. But you haven’t been any less kind to me than you’ve always been.” The hand you held up moves to squeeze his hand.

“You’re too good for me, love.” He says back, lifting your hand to his and kissing your knuckles slightly. You try to pretend that your heart didn’t skip a beat, and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Please. You flatter me.” You wave your hand away, as if to say he needn’t mention it, that’s what friends are for.

But Jamie moves closer to you, your torsos almost pressing into each other. In this dingy bar, the low light accentuates Jamie’s handsome features, and you gaze up at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I really mean it. Even when I was bein’ a little prick all the time when you and Ted and Beard first got to Richmond, you were nothin’ but nice to me.” He shrugs. “And I never thanked you.”

“You really don’t have to thank me, I’m glad I forced you to be my friend.” You flash a grin at him, which makes him laugh, looking away from you slightly while he absorbs your presence. When his gaze finds yours again, it’s considerably softer.

“Darlin’, I was putty in your hands the first time you bossed me around.” You snort incredulously, and he laughs. “I was. You got on me arse about being on time and it kicked me into gear.”

“You were stressing Ted out, and a stressed out Ted is a stressed out assistant.” You confirm. “Jamie.” You say, looking at him. “Did you really come to seek me out just to tell me you’re glad I yelled at you the first week we met?”

“Of course not. I needed an excuse to come talk t’you.” He murmurs, absentmindedly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You never need an excuse to be near me.” You breathe out, and you’re faintly aware of a slow, sweet country song playing in the background. You clear your throat, drawing back slightly from him, “I love this song,” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear and trying to change the subject at hand.

"You're as smooth, as Tennessee whiskey, you're as sweet as strawberry wine..." the old jukebox plays, and you close your eyes a moment.

Jamie doesn’t respond, he takes your hand delicately and leads you to the small dance floor. Your heart pounds, wondering what this change in Jamie is all about. Of course, the two of you were friends. But he had never been so tender with you. You were usually the one giving hugs, patting hands, brushing hair away…did he actually mean to be this sweet and touchy-feely with you? Or was he drunk? Jamie draws you close, holding one of your hands to his chest while the other wraps around your waist. He rests his head against yours and murmurs something you can’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You manage to squeak out, a little more high pitched than you meant to be.

“I said, I always want to be near you. I know you only think of me as a friend, and I get it, but I wanted you…”He clears his throat, “wanted you to know.” He finishes.

You pull your head back to look him in the eyes. “What makes you think I only think of you as a friend?” You say softly, raising an eyebrow. “Because I don’t.”

Jamie knits his brows together. “You don’t?”

You can’t help but let out a laugh. “No! Why would you think that?” You look into his eyes again, and the sight of you making eye contact seems to instantly soften his gaze again.

“Because you’re…well, you.” He says. “Always seemed too busy to get involved with an athlete, not to mention one that you’re friends with.”

“I must be good at hiding the fact that I am desperately drawn to you, then.” You say, causing Jamie to smile and press a kiss to your temple. “Jamie.” You say.

“Yea?” He responds, rocking the two of you gently to the music.

“Kiss me.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Keeping a hold of your hand pressed to his chest, Jamie draws his face back to look at you. When he sees that you’re being serious, he presses his lips to yours. Slow, sweet, longing. You bring your free hand up to rest lightly at the back of his neck, and when he breaks the kiss, you keep it there. It’s intimate, familiar.

Jamie pulls you close again, resting his head against yours. “I guess this makes us more’n friends, yea?” He whispers in your ear.

You laugh, nodding along. “I guess so.” You reply, blushing happily as the two of you danced in the low light.

“Good luck gettin’ rid of me, love.” He says playfully, peppering your face with kisses as you laugh.

A low growl escaped the burly man’s lips as he watched Tartt slowly spin you on the dancefloor.

You seemed to be deep in conversation, and he feels Ted and Beard both looking at him.

He sighs, setting the beer bottle in his hand down on the bar with a clink signalling the cowboy hat clad bartender to swap it out with a fresh, full one.

“I heard a growl there, Roy.” Says Ted, who then looks over Roy to catch Beard’s attention. “What’s got this one more riled than a junkyard dog, Coach?” Beard jerks his head towards you and Jamie, swaying slightly to the music, and Ted breaks into a smile.

“Well hey, isn’t that nice?” Ted says, earning a glare from Roy. “By that look I’m collecting that you don’t think that’s nice.” He states.

Roy just grunts again in response, lifting his bottle to his lips, his eyes watching you.

Beard shrugs. “Seems like you might have a crush.”

Ted nods knowingly. “Well, I could have told you that, Beard. You seen the way Roy looks at her when she comes into our office? Like she’s the sun, I’m telling ya.”

“Oi, shut it, you two.” Roy interjects, “and don’t pretend I can’t see the sly look the two of you are about to give each other. I’m not in denial about it.”

Ted and Beard look at Roy, waiting for him to finish his thoughts. Rushing him would just get them a “fuck off!”. So they had learned to wait.

“The thing is- I know she’s special. And clearly Jamie does too. Clearly we have the same taste in women.” Roy grunts as he watches Jamie pull away to look you in the eyes. He clenches his jaw, trying not to appear more jealous than he already was. “She’s just…she’s great. And I like her, okay?”

Ted and Beard exchange another look and Ted clears his throat slightly. “Listen Roy, we know she’s great. Wouldn’t know which way was up without her, but maybe you should actually try talking to her if you want her to like you.”

“How do you mean? I talk to her!” Roy says indignantly.

“Grunting in response to questions she asks you isn’t considered talking to her.” Beard chimes in, Ted nodding along and pointing to his long time friend.

Roy isn’t listening though. He’s watching Jamie lean in and kiss you, your hand reaching to cradle the back of his neck. It felt like everything stopped. He didn’t realize just how much he liked you until he saw you happy with someone else. Thinking that should be him. And that made him feel like an utter prick.

“Fuuuuuccckkkkk.” He groaned. This was not good.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #roy kent x reader #friends to lovers #pining #longing

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tiramisuucakeee · 1 month ago

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A VERY BAD REP, AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN ★

( 420! reader x playboy! heeseung )

IN WHICH : at an exclusive private school in the city, where rich kids thought they ruled the place, heeseung finds out the girl who cheated off of him on an exam and could probably get him expelled, has an even worse reputation than him, and she doesn’t seem to care about what he thinks or says.

WARNINGS: drugs, sexual content. +18.

BTW: tried my best to represent my king fanon suna rintaro in y/n. i haven’t smoked in so long….. it’s been 30 years (2 weeks)….. i’m starting to forget the feeling (girl got sober) ….. ok so basically i dramatized everything cause it’s a fanfic okay, don’t think i take all the stuff i wrote pls and ew i wil never ever write smth like this again, i’m a fluff writer TT

WC: i aint counting allat

read more !

they say opposites attract, even in love, and for him, it’s always been true. he’s into quiet, delicate girls, the type who never speak up and just go with the flow. but no matter how sweet they are, heeseung drops them without a second thought, like they’re nothing more than a momentary distraction after getting what he wants from them. so how did he end up in a situation where it was him doing the chasing? he never really thought he'd have to, ever.

it was almost funny, laughable even. he, of all people, accused of copying on an exam? and now facing the possibility of being expelled if he didn’t find a way to make it right? it was the kind of mess he never imagined getting into.

yes, he was a player and toyed with girls’ feelings for his own benefit, but that was it, he would never dare to stain his behavior record and affect his reputation with the school. he knew his family would kill him if he did, they were the type to always put on a face for others and everyone thought they were this perfect little rich family of three, that went on the most expensive trips and could buy anyone and anything.

he could still remember the teacher’s harsh words blaming him for this. ‘miss y/n has an impeccable record of approved grades in my subject, while you, mister heeseung, barely scrape by. and in this exam, it’s your first grade above a 90. you both share the same exact answers, the same solutions. that leaves me to think you copied off her. i suggest you stop denying it and accept the punishment of suspension. if not, i’ll have no choice but to speak to the principal about expelling you from this school. and your father won’t be able to save you from this one again with donations.’

heeseung slammed his locker shut with a fury, the sound echoing down the empty hallway as the final bell rang. his mind raced, thoughts spiraling. what was he going to tell his family if he actually got expelled? his family reputation couldn’t fix this. the idea was unthinkable, impossible. he wasn’t about to let something he didn’t do ruin everything. he wouldn’t accept it. not without a fight.

he’d stolen the cheat sheet, that much was true. but copying off another student? he would never do that. he had his pride, after all. the problem was, he had no idea how you’d ended up with that paper. how did you get your hands on it? and why the hell had you not even thought about changing one single answer to be slick? his mind was racing, but he wasn’t about to let anyone think he was that stupid.

heeseung had never even bothered to look your way since you got to the school a year and a half ago in your leather jacket and sunglasses. your parents knew each other but you weren’t the type of person he’d ever hang out with. he did know about a guy having a fling with you, and honestly, it almost drove him insane. word has gotten out you had almost driven him to the point of seeking professional help to be sane. but that wasn’t even the worst thing said about you. even with your father’s reputation and money, you weren’t safe from being on people’s mouths as the daughter he never wanted.

what made everything even more difficult was that he had no idea how to make you admit it was you. he didn’t have your number, didn’t know anything about your schedule except for the one class you both shared. confronting you in person seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. he couldn’t risk you turning the whole thing around, making him look like the bad guy while you played the victim. it would be just his luck.

he had never felt so completely taken advantage of. it was always him who used people, who knew how to manipulate them into giving him exactly what he wanted. yet here he was, losing his mind over a girl he’d never even spoken to. it was ridiculous, and it pissed him off.

as the next day rolled around, he was still consumed by it. before the first period, he stood by the stone lion statue on the entrance of school, leaning against the wall next to jake and sunghoon, waiting for karina and wonyoung, as they mindlessly talked about a new prada backpack sunghoon bought yesterday. but heeseung’s mind kept drifting back to the mess with you, he tried to push it aside, focusing on the usual routine. still, the more he tried to forget, the more it nagged at him.

just as he was about to ask jake about you, since he always seemed to know everything about everyone, he stopped himself. no way was he going to ask his friend for help and look uncapable of solving things. he needed to figure this out on his own. instead, he turned his thoughts to how he could find you before the shared calculus class at the end of the day. he had to get to the bottom of this, and fast.

"heeseung!" a cheery voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts. he looked up to see karina dragging wonyoung along, both of them heading toward him, their little red-bottom heels clicking against the pavement. karina flashed him a big, playful smile and waved enthusiastically, her energy cutting through the tension that had been building all morning.

“damn it, it’s too early in the morning for this,” heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes as they approached. jake, who had been watching the whole scene with a smirk, nudged him in the ribs. “that girlfriend of yours, man,” he teased. heeseung just shot him a glare, clearly not amused.

the two girls made their way toward them, but just as they were about to reach the group, a loud, roaring engine cut through the morning air. before anyone could react, a sleek motorcycle zoomed in, blocking their path. the rider revved the engine once more, making it clear they weren’t going anywhere until they dealt with them.

"woah, what’s goin on?" sunghoon asked, clearly impressed by the person who had the guts to stop karina and wonyoung in their tracks. he wasn’t the only one taken aback. everyone was staring as the motorcycle came to a halt. little did they know, the rider was someone heeseung had been obsessing over all morning, someone who could probably ruin both karina and wonyoung’s face with just one single punch. the tension in the air shifted instantly, and heeseung felt his heart race, but not for his girlfriend’s safety, instead, for the person who rolled around.

the motorcycle she was riding was imposing, big, dark, and matte, with electric blue accents. the kind of bike that screamed power and danger. it looked like something straight out of a movie, designed to intimidate, just like its rider. there was a certain energy about her, something that made everyone around tense up instinctively. she didn’t need to say a word to command attention. her presence alone was enough to make even the most confident shrink back.

but they still stepped closer, followed by a crowd of other students who knew exactly who was under the helmet. everyone was eager to see what would happen next.

you pulled off the black helmet, letting your hair tumble out as the cold morning air hit your face, sharpening the already obvious irritation in your expression. there was an undeniable edge to your aura, something fierce and untouchable, like you thrived on chaos and didn’t care who knew it. the way you stood, calm but dangerous, with an almost predatory confidence, made it clear you weren’t here to play nice. karina glanced around, clearly uncomfortable in the middle of a confrontation she’d rather avoid, but she couldn’t deny what she had just done, not going unnoticed by you.

not letting her get the first word, you swung off your motorcycle, your movements sharp and deliberate. "you bitch, are you insane?" you shot at her, pointing a finger directly in her face. the students around you quickly scrambled, eager to capture what might turn into a full-blown fight. for the students watching, it was like something straight out of a teen movie. the popular ‘it girl’ of the school facing off against the infamous ‘bad girl’. a label you despised even more than the people who threw it around. the rich kids were convinced you were a bad person just because you got high 8 out of the 7 days of the week, dressed in black and liked to waste your money getting inked.

"what are you talking about?!" karina stammered, stumbling back as she grabbed wonyoung’s hand, who seemed ready to shrink behind her in panic. they both looked like dolls, dressed in couture clothing and expensive hair accessories.

you scoffed, the memory of what happened earlier still fresh. "don't play dumb with me," you shot back, eyes narrowing. "you're the one who threw food on the road to school from your little convertible. god, are you even intelligent enough to drive?!” karina’s face flushed with embarrassment, not thinking you would actually confront her like this, and for a moment, she looked like she might deny it. but instead, she opened her mouth. "well, i guess i should have thrown it at you then, instead of the road, since you always like to be dirty, don’t you?” she laughed, looking down at your worn out shoes, which were sluthered with mud.

"dirty?" you cut her off with a bitter laugh. "you want to talk about dirty?" your voice dripped with sarcasm. "i’m not the one with half of the school’s dicks down my throat, while embarrassing myself chasing a guy who, the only thing he likes about me is fucking, because it’s the only time i will stop being annoying, how ‘bout that?”

“well, it’s a shame that you don’t have a face pretty enough to even attract a normal guy’s attention. i have seen you hanging around with those shaggy and dirty stoner animals from your old school you call men, having sex in the middle of an alley, all high and out of their minds, huh,” she insisted, pointing at you up and down.

“you’re so full of shit karina, and it’s sad. as if you’d ever find someone that actually likes you, to listen to you talk for more than ten minutes.” you threw her a pitiful look. the students around you shifted uncomfortably, some of them glancing at each other as the tension in the air grew thicker. wonyoung, still holding onto karina’s hand, looked like she was about to step in, but karina pulled her back. “i don’t care what you think, i’m rich, i’ve got tons of friends and i’m pretty, and you have always been jealous of me, just what is your problem?”

you stepped closer, your gaze never leaving hers. “like i care about your dad’s money wash karina, don’t get too carried away, it takes more than money to make someone feel less than you,” you smirked, looking at her up and down. you stepped dangerously closer quickly, making her stumble back once again and shriek, gripping onto wonyoung’s arm even stronger.

“but it will pay your facial reconstruction bill if you keep fucking with me, got it?” you said quietly, but with a force that made the words hit harder than anything else. before she could snap back, wonyoung pulled at her sleeve, whispering something in her ear. karina hesitated, then exhaled a long breath. she wasn’t stupid, karina has seen what ‘kinds of people’ you hang out with, and how bad the other person gets out of a fight with you, she was always quick to insult you, but never to continue fully.

"okay, fine. you want to clean your little tricycle?" karina said, trying to act nonchalant, taking out a huge bill from her purse. "here, i don’t care, just go back to where you came from." you took the bill karina handed out harshly, splitting it in right in the middle, making her gasp, and look at the money falling on the ground, feeling totally humiliated.

not saying anything else, you turned back and mounted the motorcycle again, revving it in a way for the students around to step back, and open way for you to continue your morning, not daring to get in your way. you sped off, the roar of your bike fading into the distance of the parking lot. the boys lingered for a moment before finally making their way over to karina and wonyoung, concern written all over their faces. "you girls alright?" sunghoon asked, glancing at both of them.

karina shot him a frustrated look, her arms still crossed defensively. "yeah, whatever. i'm fine," she muttered, though her voice was tight. wonyoung stayed quiet, looking more shaken than usual, as if still processing the encounter.

the boys exchanged a few more words of reassurance, but heeseung barely heard them. his mind was miles away, consumed by the memory of you. your sharp words, your defiant stance, the way you’d made it clear you weren’t to be messed with. he couldn’t shake the image of you. he couldn’t let it go. not now. heeseung was used to being in control, used to getting what he wanted without a second thought. but you, you were different. there was something about you that made him want to find out more, something about the way you handled the whole situation that had him itching to confront you, face-to-face, but he knew he couldn’t, not unless he wanted to hear karina yell at him nonstop in a fit of jealousy.

"you good, man?" jake's voice broke through his thoughts, and heeseung looked up, blinking. "yeah," he said, trying to shake off the feeling. but deep down, he knew he wasn’t really fine.

as the day went on and classes shifted, lunch break came to an end, and before long, it was time for the dreaded calculus class. you sauntered to your seat at the back of the classroom, right by the window, and dropped into the chair. with a bored sigh, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through it without a care, eyes barely glancing up. it was weird seeing you stick around this long on a school day. usually, you’d slip out early or roll in late, and no one ever said a word. you never had too many absences, always acing every exam. and for that reason, the teachers didn’t question it, because you had this way of making it look effortless, like the rules didn’t even apply to you.

as the class dragged on, something landed softly on your desk, just a small note. you glanced over and saw the girl next to you, the one with the big round glasses, her eyes wide with nervous energy. the second you looked her way, she flinched, shrinking back into her seat. she quickly pointed to the guy sitting next to her, her face practically pleading for you to read whatever nonsense he’d scribbled.

you gave him a weird look, your brow raised in silent confusion, before you slowly unfolded the note, your fingers moving deliberately as if you had all the time in the world. it read, ‘what do you think you’re doing? why did you copy off of me on the exam?’

you snorted at the message, and instantly, the memory hit you. it was the first time you’d let yourself go, forgetting about grades, staying way too long at some random house drugging yourself with something new, until blackout, two days away from home in your ride. you hadn’t made it back in time to study, so you did what you had to do. you texted a contact at school to get you the test. lucky for you, he knew someone in your class who had managed to steal the cheat sheet, and just like that, you had it in your hands.

‘none of your business’ you wrote back, your fingers moving quickly as you folded the note and slid it over to the girl. she hesitated for a second, then took it from you, passing it to him discreetly like it was some kind of underground deal.

a few moments later, the note came back to you. you unfolded it, and your eyes scanned the words. ‘you have to admit you cheated off of me, i’m risking expulsion.’ as if you actually gave a damn about his risk. you shot him a cold glance, then made a subtle motion with your hand, signaling for him to follow you out of the classroom, while you carried your belongings, not planning on returning.

after a few seconds, he finally slipped out of the classroom, meeting you in the empty hallway. "hey, so i really need you to admit you cheated off of me, i could get suspended, even expelled, and i'm not willing to take that kind of punishment for you," he started, his voice full of desperation. but you didn’t let him finish. you raised a hand, cutting him off, and his words trailed off as he stood there, waiting for you to say something.

"i’m sorry, who even are you?" you asked, shaking your head, genuinely confused. "i’m still trying to figure out why you think i’d ever admit to cheating on a test for you." your voice was casual, like the whole situation didn’t even faze you.

"because you did," he said, his tone dripping with self-righteousness. "it’s the right thing to do. you need to get suspended for cheating off of me." he smirked, as if he was the one holding all the power now. "and if you don’t, i’ll just tell them i caught you fucking someone in the bathroom for the test answers or something. you wouldn’t want that, would you?" that made you laugh.

"okay, listen, mr. whoever-you-are," you said, raising an eyebrow, "i’m not doing shit for you. after all, it’s my word against yours, which i’m guessing doesn’t mean much, considering you're the one getting blamed for cheating." you leaned in, a smirk playing at your lips. "and as for the fucking thing? i’ve been caught plenty before. the worst they’ll do is throw me in detention. so go ahead, do as you please." you poked his shoulder, the gesture almost mocking. he stood there for a second, his smile fading as he processed what you'd said. you could tell he wasn't used to being called out like that, or having the cards reversed, but then he leaned in, his voice lowering, like he was trying to pull some kind of play.

"you know," he said, his tone smooth, "a pretty girl like you... you don't really want to be known as the one who got away with cheating. people would start talking, saying you’re not enough for a school like this, wouldn't they?" he stepped closer, his eyes scanning you like he was sizing you up, "but hey, i get it. you don't want to get caught up in more drama. maybe i can help with that... if you just admit it was you."

this couldn’t be happening, you just wondered how in the world did this guy not know of your reputation, he was embarrassing himself so much at the moment. no boys in school got near you for that exact same reason, and here he was, thinking he could word his way into manipulating you, as if you didn’t know how to play your own game. you were known for being this maniatic crazy bitch with a motorcycle, who hang out with ‘lowlifes’, knew how to fight and that was only useful to get drugs from, also probably slept around with teachers because they didn’t think you’re smart enough to study. you’ve been told so many things, that what he said didn’t even bother you.

you rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. "oh, so now you're trying to play the good guy card?" you laughed dryly, leaning against the lockers. "nice try, but i'm not some stupid girl you can sweet-talk into doing something."

he chuckled, clearly not giving up. "come on, baby," he said, his voice turning smooth and almost coaxing, "we both know you like the thrill of a little risk. how about we make a nice deal, you admit it was you, and maybe we... hang out sometime. you know, just us. could be fun."

you raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes again. "wow, really? you are so considerate of me, but no, i don’t want your reduce reuse recycled dick, i'm not interested."

he stepped closer again, trying to intimidate you, but you weren't moved. you just pushed him back with a lazy finger, eyes never leaving his. "you clearly don’t know what you’re doing, or even how to talk to me," you said, voice dripping with mockery. "i'm not impressed. i’ve seen your type a hundred times. and it's honestly fucking pathetic."

he frowned, his jaw tightening, but you didn't care. you weren't here for his tantrums. "seriously, you think this is gonna work on me?" you continued, your voice low and sharp. "you're the one who's gonna look stupid if you keep pushing this. i'm not gonna admit. and if you keep threatening me, we can always settle this another way, i’m sure you know how to fight with those big boy muscles right?" you squeezed his arm, making heeseung shudder, almost feeling a tingle.

you turned to leave, tossing him a final glance over your shoulder. "good luck, though," you added, your voice flat. "i'm sure your suspension month will be really fun." you tossed over your shoulder, voice dripping with sarcasm. "but don't worry, you probably already have a few girls your way to help you feel validated and accompanied."

heeseung just stood there, watching you leave and soon disappear onto another hallway, probably escaping classes. but that did not worry him, we couldn’t let himself worry over a girl like you. you would clearly never fall for his words. guys like heeseung, we’re almost like easy prey for you. too weak and easy, thinking they dominated the whole world, fucking around with girls, throwing massive parties and golfing every sunday with their dad. when in reality they probably didn’t know how to unclog a toilet.

they pissed you off so much, he pissed you off, and now your day was ruined. so almost two hours later, you found yourself on a complete different town to the south, entering an worn out house, kicking the door open. the house brought back many memories, too many. from when you lived here, and not back with your father, in a place you didn’t belong.

"who's here?" a slurred voice called from the kitchen, barely cutting through the thumping music. the place reeked of stale smoke and something sharper, like bleach or chemicals. dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the clutter, casting long shadows over cracked furniture and empty beer cans. scattered on the floor were people, sprawled in various stages of oblivion, some twitching, others motionless, all trapped in their own haze. the walls, stained and peeling, seemed to pulse with the low vibrations of the bass, as if the house itself was barely holding it all together. the house which was previously your mother’s, was now just a usual abandoned place that your friends utilized to hang out in.

"damn, this place is a mess. why didn't you wait for me?" you muttered, stepping into the kitchen. your friends were slouched around a grimy breakfast table, barely looking up as one of them finished snorting white lines off the edge. the counter was littered with crumpled pink blunt wrappers.

"yo! gigi, stop the music!" yeonjun shouted, sniffling as he shot up from his seat, stumbling a bit before he lurched forward to hug you. he almost tripped over his own mismatched-socks covered feet, but when he finally reached you, he inhaled deeply, as if your scent, clean and free of any substances, was a breath of fresh air in the chaos of the room. his grip tightened for a moment, his eyes flickering with a mix of relief.

"i’m not your bitch," giselle muttered, rolling her red-ish eyes as she leaned over to turn down the blaring music. her long acrylic nails clicked sharply against the plastic radio, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. she barely looked at yeonjun as she did it, her expression more annoyed than anything else.

you laughed at her comment, shaking your head, and then moved to hug her, pushing yeonjun off you in the process. he stumbled back, slightly irritated but too dazed to really react, while giselle’s stiff posture softened just a little as you wrapped your arms around her. her eyes flickered with something close to annoyance, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. you pulled away from giselle, giving her a teasing look. "so, what's the plan for tonight?" you asked, shifting your attention to the other strangers in the room, as they lazily got back to their own little worlds. yeonjun was still rubbing his nose, barely paying attention, while giselle just shrugged, taking a drag from her cigarette before flicking it into an ashtray.

“we’re hitting that party in the hill later,” she said, her voice flat but laced with anticipation. "gonna get crossfaded, maybe do a little more. jay’s been asking about you non-stop, by the way." she giggled. you raised an eyebrow at that, crossing your arms. "jay?" you repeated, a little surprised. you didn't think he’d be the type to obsess over anything, let alone you. "what does he want with me?"

she leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eye. "he’s obsessed you and your dumb tattoos. that night you two spent together? yeah, he can’t stop talking about it.” she paused, letting the words hang in the air like a secret. “guess he’s got a thing for you.”

you snorted, leaning against the counter, trying not to let it bother you too much. it was funny, people you’ve slept with always seemed to fixate on your exterior. but jay? he was a different story. you didn’t really care about whatever weird little crush he might have, though. he was now from a different crowd, and would never cross that line to be with you.

“he does know i changed schools right?” you said. your new school was a whole different world, elite, private, a playground for the wealthy and connected. kids with silver spoons, flashy cars, and tailored suits. a lot of them were insufferable, like karina, but you didn’t mind. it was easy to stand out, to be yourself in a place where most people just followed the rules. since your mother disappeared and your dad took you back, you’ve been placed in a world you don’t belong, and clearly don’t mind not belonging.

they had their porsche, you had your r7. they had private security, and you had your little hello kitty knife. but here, with giselle and the others? it was different. a lot more laid-back, the students knew how to have fun without all the airs and graces of your new world. they were down to earth, fun, and honest, none of the pretentious bullshit that came with being surrounded by rich kids. they had their flaws, sure, but you loved hanging out with them. it was like coming back home after a long trip to a hotel casino, where everyone was more concerned with status than actually living.

giselle noticed the shift in your mood and grinned, as if reading your thoughts. "i know, i know," she said, her voice softened, almost sympathetic. "but, hey, you're still cool with us. we don’t care about your new rich kid school. we’re just down for a good time."

"yeah, alright. i’m down. just don’t expect me to get too crazy, my dad’s expecting me before five am, he knows how shit goes here,” you let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at yeonjun who was now half-focused on his phone, tapping away furiously with his thumb. "so, i’m guessing you’ve already got the stuff lined up for tonight?" you asked, a smirk tugging at your lips.

he looked up at you, still slightly dazed, and nodded. "yeah, i texted my guy next door. he’s got everything we need. should be ready by the time we leave."

“don’t worry, i’ll go,” you didn’t need to ask twice. despite your better judgment, you were already used to this kind of thing. you pushed off the counter, giving giselle a nod. "i’ll be back in a minute, you both stop inhaling shit and try to sober up, i’m not a babysitter," you said casually, already walking toward the door.

"take your time, don't get too caught tho," she called after you, voice almost playful, but with that edge of concern. the door slammed shut behind you, and you stepped out into the cold evening air. it wasn’t far, the dealer’s place was literally next door, tucked behind a run-down convenience store that no one seemed to go into.

the door to the small house was already cracked open when you arrived. you knocked lightly, stepping back to make sure no one would spot you. a moment later, a guy with messy hair and a hoodie poked his head out, his eyes scanning you quickly before he motioned for you to come in. "yo, what’s up?" he greeted, his tone laid-back but sharp, like he had done this a thousand times before

“yeonjun sent me," you said, slipping inside. you didn’t need to say much, his face lit up as soon as you mentioned the name. yeonjun was a regular here, always popping in for one thing or another. the guy didn’t ask too many questions, which was fine by you. "right, right," he said, disappearing into a cluttered room at the back. you heard the rustle of plastic, the clink of glass. he returned with some small bags of pills in his hand, sliding them across the counter. "this should be good for the night. tell yeonjun he owes me. i threw a little present in there for you, pretty."

you nodded with a smile, taking the bag, your fingers brushing against the cool plastic. it was always the same, but you still hated the feeling of this whole transaction, sketchy, rushed. "thanks," you muttered, seeing a little extra, and slipping the bags into your jacket pocket before heading back toward the door.

"catch you later," he called after you, and you didn’t bother to respond.

as you headed back toward the house, the night started to feel more like a blur of its own, the sun setting into a canvas of dark and light colors.

when you pushed the door open again, giselle was already eyeing you, her arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. "got it?" she asked, and you gave a quick nod. "yeah, we’re good to go," you said, tossing the bags onto the table where yeonjun had plopped back down. he gave you a lazy thumbs up.

the party was exactly what you’d expect from a house like this, small, run-down, but buzzing with an energy that could only come from a group of teenagers living for the night. the kind of place where people got high, drunk, and fucked without any care in the world. the walls were covered in posters and graffiti, the floors littered with empty bottles and crumpled cans. music thudded through cheap speakers, competing with the chaotic chatter and the occasional shout of someone daring someone else to do something ridiculous or threatening to start a fight.

when you, yeonjun, and giselle arrived, the front door was wide open. keeho was standing there, practically bouncing with excitement, already tipsy from whatever he’d been drinking. his hair was an absolute mess, eyes slanted and tired-looking, and he had lipstick stains all over his neck, but his grin was infectious as he waved you over.

“yo, rich girl! you made it!” he exclaimed, his voice a little slurred, and he pulled you all in for a quick, sloppy hug. "was starting to think you forgot about me, we gotta get you three started!" without missing a beat, keeho grabbed a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka from the floor and shoved it into your hands, urging you to take a swing. his laugh was loud and carefree, and it felt like you were already swept into the madness. you hesitated for a second, but then shrugged and tipped the bottle back. the burn of the alcohol hit the back of your throat, sharp and bitter, but it didn’t matter.

giselle grinned and knocked back her own drink, wiping her mouth as she handed the bottle to yeonjun, who eagerly took a swig, his eyes already glazed over. keeho’s grin only widened, as if he had orchestrated some kind of victory. “hell yeah, let’s go!”

you all pushed past him into the house, the noise of the party almost overwhelming at first. in the main room, there were already people sprawled on couches, a couple of them making out in the corner, while others lounged around in various states of intoxication. the air was thick with the scent of weed and sex. “okay, so, knowing you yeonjun, hotboxing only in the basement bathroom, i don’t want to repeat what happened last month in my room,” keeho turned to your group with a serious face all of a sudden. yeonjun rolled his eyes and started arguing, and giselle joined in, making you leave the scene relentlessly.

as you wandered further into the house, you spotted jay almost immediately. he was leaning against the wall, a drink in his hand, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. the second he saw you, his entire demeanor changed, his gaze locked onto you with a sharp intensity, like you were the only person in the room. you couldn’t help but notice it. there was something almost obsessive in the way he watched you, his lips curling into a small but knowing smile. you weren’t sure if he was just drunk or if it was something more, but you knew he wasn’t just here for a good time. he was here for you.

“hey,” jay said as you approached, his voice low and a little too eager, like he was trying to hide just how much he wanted to pull you into his orbit. “glad you showed up. i wasn’t sure if you would.”

you raised an eyebrow and took the drink from him, taking a sip, already sensing the weird energy from him. "you act like i'm some kind of mystery," you said, your tone light, but there was a hint of warning in your voice.

jay just laughed, though it sounded a little nervous. he shifted, trying to get closer, but you didn’t exactly encourage it. "no, no. i mean, i was hoping you’d show up," he said, clearly not even noticing how desperate he sounded. "i don’t know. i just... i couldn’t stop thinking about you." his words hung there in the air for a moment, too heavy for what was supposed to be a casual conversation. you glanced away, trying to shake the awkwardness of it. he was just supposed to be a random hook up, and now he was obsessed.

"yeah, i’m too sober for this, i need a minute," you cut him off, shrugging his hand away, your tone sharper than you intended. the last thing you wanted right now was another round of jay following you around again. you managed to slip into the bathroom, the noise of the party muffled behind you. the moment the door clicked shut, you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the door for a second, trying to shake off the weight of jay’s attention.

reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction. you had been waiting on a text from your motorcycle repair center all night, hoping they'd finally gotten back to you about the part you needed. just as you started scrolling through your messages, trying to ignore the distant thumping of bass and the muffled laughter from outside, you heard the bathroom door creak open behind you. before you could even turn around, you felt a hard bump against your shoulder, someone colliding with you unexpectedly.

"hey!" the voice was sharp, and the tone was ready to unleash a curse. but then, the voice shifted, a more amused, almost playful note creeping in. "wait, hold up, you're cute."

you blinked, turning to face the girl who had crashed into you. she was standing there, eyes still wide with what could’ve been irritation, but her lips were curled into a smirk now. she looked like she was about to say something more, but the words faltered when she took another quick look at you. she was a couple of inches shorter than you, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, with eyeliner that looked like it had been hastily done, smudging a little at the edges. she wore a worn-out band tee, black jeans, and had that 'i don’t care' attitude.

you raised an eyebrow, still holding your phone, but not making any immediate movement. "thanks," you said dryly, not sure if she was being sarcastic or genuine. “ryujin,” she continued, “and you are?”

“y/n, y/n l/n,” you introduced yourself, almost sounding too righteous.

“you good y/n?” she asked, her voice almost too soft, the kind of softness that could break you without a word. “fuck no, i lost my friends and i need to get high right now,” you laughed, running your hand through your hair.

“oh really?” before you could respond, ryujin was already in front of you, close enough that you could smell the alcohol on her breath, feel the heat radiating off her body. “i can help with that,” she whispered, and there was something about the way she said it that made your pulse spike. she was clearly offering something more than simple. she was offering you something you hadn’t tried before.

she reached into her pocket, pulling out something small, a needle. you froze, your chest tightening, but the pull was still there. you weren’t thinking. you were just so desperate, it would happen again, you would take something from a random hot person. the needle gleamed in her hand, sharp and cold under the dim lighting. you didn’t need to ask what it was, she didn’t need to explain. you could already feel it, the ache of wanting something to take you somewhere else, to make this noise in your head stop. you were sick of it.

her eyes flicked to yours, dark and knowing, like she could see straight through you. "you sure?" she asked, but there was no question in her voice. it was more like a dare. your breath hitched, your heartbeat louder than the music. you looked at her, and for a split second, everything felt still. her eyes held you captive, like she was waiting for you to decide whether to break or not. and then, without saying anything, you nodded.

she didn’t hesitate. one swift motion, and the needle was at your arm. the sting was sharp, more real than anything you’d felt. the rush of it hit you instantly. a sudden heat spread through your veins, like fire lacing under your skin. the world around you blurred, the noise fading into the background. you felt something.

it was almost too much to handle, too quick. your body jolted with the rush of it, the sense of floating, of being untethered from everything. and then, before you could even catch your breath, ryujin was kissing you. it was hard, messy, raw. her lips were insistent, pulling you deeper into the chaos, as if she was swallowing every ounce of your pain. it wasn’t gentle, it was desperate. like she wanted to take everything from you and leave you empty, but at the same time, filled.

you kissed her back, caught in the haze, your body responding before your mind could catch up. the high was creeping in fast, too fast, but it felt good. it felt like everything was finally softening, the noise, the pressure, the expectations, all of it was dissolving with every second that passed.

when she finally pulled back, you were breathless. the world was spinning, but in a way that felt almost right, like you weren’t out of control, but floating in some kind of blissful wreckage. “that’s better,” she whispered, her voice low, smoky, and satisfied. “kissing makes you not feel how much this bitch hurts,” she laughed “or so i’ve been told.”

you just stared at her, too buzzed to say anything, but feeling a kind of calm you hadn’t known in what felt like forever. the pain was gone now, swallowed by the buzz, the heat, and the way she looked at you. like you were both on the edge, and neither of you cared whether you fell off. the rush from the needle still pulsed through your veins as you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a bit unmoored, like your body was drifting through space. the party felt louder, the music a distant thump in your chest. everything was hazy, like you were floating, and the crowd around you seemed to blur, their faces indistinct. you were just moving.

without thinking, you found yourself at the center of the living room, where bodies pressed against each other, the air thick with sweat and smoke. you let the beat pull you in, letting go of the last vestiges of control. you didn’t care anymore, about anything, anyone. you just moved, your body responding to the rhythm like it had a life of its own, and for the first time tonight, you felt alive.

you danced with strangers, faces you didn’t recognize, their hands on your hips or shoulders, the energy bouncing between you all like an electric current. their movements were reckless, free, and somehow, it felt like you belonged here, in the middle of this mess. the high made everything feel vivid. intense. like every touch, every glance was magnified.

a guy leaned in close, his breath warm on your neck. you didn’t pull away, letting him get close enough to whisper in your ear. you could barely understand what he was saying, but his hands were on your waist, tugging you closer. you let him, lost in the sensation of being wanted, of not caring what anyone thought. your body was moving like it was made for this chaos. you didn’t think. you just felt.

the music shifted, the bass pumping harder, and for a moment, everything became a blur of neon lights and sweaty bodies, spinning like a dizzying cyclone. you let yourself get swept up in it, lost in the noise and the movement, until you couldn’t keep up anymore. the energy in your legs started to fade, your body heavy and tired. you were buzzing too much to care, but eventually, your feet were no longer dancing, just shuffling you toward the edge of the room.

you stumbled to a couch, sinking into the cushions with a long, relieved sigh. the room around you seemed to shift, the music muffled now, everything distant, like you were underwater. you tried to keep your eyes open, but the pull of exhaustion was too strong. you just couldn’t fight it.

your head sank into the back of the couch, and in a matter of seconds, you were out, completely, utterly gone. the noise of the party continued around you, but you were far away now, floating in the quiet of your mind, somewhere where nothing could touch you. the high, the spinning, the chaos, it all faded to a distant hum. you were weightless, drifting in nothingness, as everything slipped away.

you woke up the next morning to the harsh sound of someone shouting, the words barely making sense at first. “everyone get up and get the hell out!” keeho’s voice rang through the room, piercing the fog of sleep that still clung to you. blinking, you squinted at the blinding light creeping through the window, the ache in your head reminding you of just how much but so little had happened the night before. and you tried to suppress the feeling of vomiting.

you barely had time to process everything when keeho appeared at the door, his eyes wide in sudden panic when he saw you sitting there, a disheveled mess on the couch. “wait... you’re here? yeon and gigi were crazy looking for you last night,” he stammered, clearly flustered. you could tell he hadn’t noticed you before, hadn’t realized you’d passed out here.

“yeah, i think someone gave me dope, ‘m not sure,” you muttered, trying to shake the sleepiness from your mind. “could use some clothes though. i didn’t exactly plan on crashing here and i gotta get my ass to school or my father will actually kill me.”

keeho nodded quickly, his face flushing in embarrassment as he glanced around the room like he didn’t know where to look. “yeah, yeah, no problem. i’ve got some stuff, just go to my room. there’s a drawer with girl clothes from... you know. just grab whatever.” he gestured to the hallway.

you stood up, a little unsteady on your feet, and made your way toward his room. it wasn’t far, but the house felt like a maze now, the remnants of last night’s chaos still hanging in the air. the stale scent of alcohol and smoke clung to everything, and you could hear people stirring, mumbling groggily as they shuffled about, trying to piece together the aftermath of whatever they did.

keeho’s room was a mess too, clothes and half-empty bottles scattered across the floor, papers crumpled on his desk. you spotted the drawer he mentioned and pulled it open. inside, there were a mix of clothes, some definitely not your style.

you pulled out a small crop top, the fabric soft against your skin as you slipped it on. the shirt hugged you in just the right way, but the way it exposed a sliver of your tattoos on your side gave you an odd sense of power. something about the ink on your skin made you feel more present, more you, even in the haze of everything that had gone wrong in the last month, not listening to your brain. you quickly grabbed a pair of athletic shorts from the drawer, the fabric light and comfortable, though they were a bit tight on your hips. it didn’t matter. you weren’t here to impress anyone.

you didn’t know what you were expecting to feel in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t this. it was a weird mix of exhaustion and emptiness, and so thirsty. but at least you weren’t in yesterday’s clothes. stepping out of the room, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the aftermath.

keeho was still in the living room, shouting at people to get out, his tone half-annoyed, half-caring, like he was trying to maintain some level of order in the madness. he saw you and gave you an awkward wave. “yo, you good?” he asked, trying to act casual.

“yeah, just tired,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “where’s the exit?”

keeho pointed to the door and went back to yelling at whoever was still sprawled on the couch. you weren’t in the mood for much interaction. just get out. get back to the north. you walked toward the door, weaving through the mess of bodies and vomit. the cool morning air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, the bright sun already making the world feel like it had reset itself. everything was sharp, clear. the chaos of the night felt distant now, as if you were waking up from a bad dream.

you tried not to think about it as you walked away from the house, the reality of last night still buzzing in your head. you pulled out your phone and called an uber, the cool screen a brief distraction from the foggy mess of your mind. as you waited for it to arrive, you kept thinking about the night. about the haze, the people, the weird feeling of everything slipping through your fingers. you needed to forget it, or at least stop accepting drugs from friendly girls in bathrooms, you had to stick to smoking-only, or your body would end up on the cover of a newspaper with a bad name. you slid into the back of the car when it arrived, the familiar hum of the engine lulling you into a kind of dull trance as you made your way back to the city.

the ride was quiet, a smooth hum of traffic and soft music in the background. it didn’t take long to get back to the luxurious academy, but as you stepped out of the car and walked through the heavily guarded gates, you could feel the eyes on you. people were already filing into the backyard tables for lunch, and you were late, again.

you didn’t care, though. you didn’t care about anything right now. the school was a blur of clean clothes and sharp faces, everyone looking polished and perfect, the exact opposite of how you felt and looked. you ignored the stares, walking past a couple of your classmates who were giving you the side-eye, their whispers barely audible over the din of voices. but you could feel the weight of it. the judgment. the fact that you weren’t exactly like everyone else here, and they knew it.

you made your way to the lunch hall, where your only acquaintance was already sitting, glancing up as you walked in. chaeryeong’s eyes flickered between you and the time. you slid into the seat across from her, barely noticing the food she'd saved for you. you didn’t have the energy for the usual small talk or the smiley faces she always wore.

“are you okay, y/n?” chaeryeong asked softly. you still couldn’t figure out why she stuck around. maybe it was because you’d protected her in some way, kept her safe from karina and her ridiculous mean girl act. chaeryeong was too kind, too good-hearted. she didn’t deserve any of that. you nodded without thinking, just going through the motions. you took a bite of the sandwich, but the food was tasteless, like everything else was. somewhere deep down, you knew you had to get your shit together, but for now, it was easier to keep pretending that everything was fine.

the real reason why you started being even more reckless than before was simple. you missed her. and you hated yourself for it, for missing your mother, the one who abandoned you a year and a half algo. a part of you wanted to believe this was all a plan for you to move in with your rich father and get yourself a place in society, but deep down you knew she found another family with one of the hundreds of men she slept with every night to be able to pay rent. not like you were actually hurt, though. everything you did, every choice you made, was for her. you liked to think she was in a better place now, not living off of selling herself. in your mind, you had to be your best version, just for her. not for that father you have, which was the first one to actually leave, after hearing the news of your mother being pregnant with you. but karma got him, and now he was stuck with you.

he just lets you be, lets you invite your friends over and make a mess. after all, he has maids to clean up after you. but you weren’t about to be that much of a burden, which is why you pushed yourself to excel academically. your mother always said, ‘every single person is a nobody, no matter how rich or poor. the only thing that makes us different is our drive to be better for ourselves.’

you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a little too much force. "i'm going for a smoke," you mutter, barely looking at chaeryeong. before she can say anything and tell you how drugs are ruining you, you’re already heading out of the cafeteria, your steps quick and determined. you make your way to your locker, your fingers fumbling slightly as you pull out a couple of blunts, the familiar smell of them grounding you.

sliding past the neat hallways, you cut through the back of the school, where the gym equipment is stored, away from the eyes of teachers and nosy students. it’s quiet here, the air thick with the scent of rubber and old wood. you light up without hesitation, the first drag hitting your lungs like a small relief. for a moment, it's just you, the world outside fading into the background. you then take a slow hit, the smoke filling your lungs again, and for a second, it feels like everything slows down. you exhale, watching the thin trail of smoke twist and curl in the air before disappearing. the taste is bitter, but it doesn’t matter. it’s the quiet and that’s important right now.

until it wasn’t. from the corner of your eye, you catch movement, footsteps crunching against the gravel. you look up, and there he is, the guy from yesterday. the same cocky grin, the same aura of someone who’s too used to getting what they want. he was dressed in a faux-fur jacket.

“what the hell…” you watched him get closer, his nose slightly scrunching at the smoke coming out your mouth.

"looks like we started on the wrong track," he says, leaning against the chain-link fence with that insufferable smirk still on his face. "name’s heeseung," he adds, like you should be impressed.

you blink, connecting the dots in your head. heeseung. the rich kid. the usual playboy. and then, it clicks, he’s with karina. the thought hits you like a cold splash of water. of course. he’s here because of her. to bribe you, maybe, or to mess with you, make you look bad in front of everyone. you exhale, the smoke swirling between you as you size him up. "what d’ya want?" you ask, your voice flat, not bothering to hide the growing annoyance.

he wrinkles his nose, taking in the air like he’s just stepped into a dumpster. "really smells like shit here, and you look even worse," he says with a disgusted chuckle, glancing around like he’s considering whether or not to leave. you can’t help but laugh, the sound rough but genuine. ‘he really is a piece of work,’ you think, watching his discomfort. without missing a beat, you take another hit, leaning back against the wall as you blow out the smoke. "maybe it's just you," you say with a smirk, your voice teasing but cold.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response, but you can see the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. he’s not as untouchable as he thinks. heeseung’s eyes flicker down to your exposed arms and stomach, the tattoos that snake along your skin, and you catch the shift in his expression. he’s staring, but it’s not the way he was a second ago, this is different. "did those hurt?" he asks, his tone almost tentative, like he’s unsure if he should even ask. you raise an eyebrow, glancing at him like he’s just asked the dumbest question in the world.

you stare at him for a long second, then pull in a slow breath. "what do you think?" you say, deadpanning. "of course they did." he blinks, suddenly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. "right. uh..." he trails off, his gaze flicking around like he’s trying to find something else to say.

"are you cold?" he asks finally, his eyes narrowing slightly at your lack of layers. you’re barely dressed for fall, your shirt thin and your shorts almost too small for the weather. the chill in the air seems to be getting to him more than it’s getting to you. you snort, the sharp edge of your laugh cutting through the tension. "worry about yourself," you mutter, pulling another drag. it’s not like you were cold, it’s more that you weren’t going to admit it to him.

he watches you for a moment, brow furrowed, clearly not buying it. his eyes flicker between your face and the way you’re standing. "yeah, okay," he says, though it sounds more like he's humoring you than agreeing. heeseung takes a step closer, his hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie as he looks at you with a mix of concern and reluctance. "you know, if you really aren’t fine, i could always-“ he cuts himself off, glancing away for a second, as though considering something before shaking his head. "never mind. it’s not that cold anyway, right?"

“stop trying to make small talk, hedeun-“

“it’s heeseung,” he interrupted, visibly bothered at you getting his name wrong.

“it’s whatever, just tell me what you want, i don’t like spending much time with people like you,” you sighed. “what are you really here for?”

“i heard you sell,” heeseung started, making you let out a loud laugh. “if all you wanted was to smoke, you could’ve just asked me to share, i’m not a monster,” you extended your blunt towards him, but he declined. “i also heard about your mother, and about your old school, and everything about it,” he swallowed, nervously fiddling with his hands, contradicting with his harsh exterior. you raised an eyebrow, the edge of a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth as you listen to him, the words rolling off his tongue with a strange mix of nervousness and something else, like he’s trying to explain himself but doesn’t really know how. it’s not exactly what you expected, but it’s almost worse.

"is that so?" you reply, voice flat but laced with a quiet venom. you cross your arms over your chest, leaning back slightly as if the conversation doesn’t deserve your full attention. "so, you did all this… research on me, huh? i bet everyone had a lot of nice things to say." it was a weird situation, when you changed schools, all the girls were all over you, excited for a new girl, but as soon as they saw who you were, they escaped, not wanting anything to do with you besides get some smoke and pills.

you couldn’t blame them, you didn’t want to hang out with them either. but karina stayed, until you made the ‘mistake’ of dating the guy she liked at that moment, and since then, she made the promise to destroy your life, if only she could even try.

he seems to falter under your gaze, his eyes dropping to the ground for a moment. "i just... i wanted to understand. i wasn’t trying to judge you or anything. i just..." he rubs his hands together, clearly uncomfortable. "i guess i just thought it’d make sense to know who you are before, well, before we talked again."

you can feel the sharpness in the air, his attempt at an apology or explanation almost laughable. you don’t need his pity. “so, you went and found out about me. what now?”

he looks up at you, a bit of guilt coloring his expression, but it’s hard to tell whether he’s more upset about the fact that you’re not impressed, or that his research didn’t give him the right answers. "i just-" he stops, rubbing the back of his neck again, looking more like a kid who’d gotten caught in a lie than a guy trying to make amends, secretly trying to manipulate you. "i didn’t mean to come off like that. i just... i don’t know how to read you."

your eyes narrow, sizing him up. "well, you can start by not making this about me. whatever you think you found out, that’s your problem." you tilt your head, voice going a little colder. "you’re not the first to assume shit about me. and everything i told everyone on this place about me, is barely the surface, so you can do with that what you want. but i’m not here for your guilt trip."

for a moment, it looks like he might say something else, but he just bites his lip instead, clearly unsure how to break through the wall you’ve just put up. and you’re fine with that. heeseung had no idea why you were being so hard. why he couldn’t get to you like he could with other girls. for some strange reason, he seemed drawn to you, almost as if you were here to save him from the horrible destiny that it is to be with karina. but you didn’t seem the slightest interested in him. and he hated that. he hated the fact that he felt like you were unconsciously pulling him in, but he couldn’t do the same to you.

only, that he could. and he was doing it. you could see it in his eyes, the sparkle for the unknown, you were almost an escapatory for him. from his rich kid, player, facade or maybe his own true personality. you felt the extreme change in demeanor he had since talking to you yesterday, after realizing you weren’t like the girls from his school. he seemed way more open today, and way more relaxed. but you weren’t about to be his little side distraction in his perfect, cushioned life. you weren’t just some novelty.

"good conversation, heeseung," you muttered, clicking your tongue as you stubbed out the blunt against the cement wall you were leaning on, then started to walk away. before you could get too far, you heard him call after you. "hey, wait up!"

you turned back to find a faint desperation in his eyes. "sunghoon's throwing a little something tonight, and i know you don’t usually hang with people like us, but you should come. we might need some of that stuff you’ve got." he gestured to the blunt in your hand. it was almost endearing, how he treated something so simple like it was a secret, like it was taboo. the gap between you two seemed clearer than ever.

“i’ll make sure to get you something good, i hope you can handle it,” you gave him a small smile. heeseung watched you walk away, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. he was used to girls like karina, who flattered him, who followed him, who played by the rules of his world. but you? you were something else. something he couldn’t quite figure out. he didn’t know why, but something about you made him feel off-balance.

‘you’re not an escapade. you’re not just some distraction,’ he thought to himself, eyes narrowing in confusion. you’re different. something about you. you could ground him. he didn’t know what it was. it wasn’t just the exterior, the rough edges, or the way you didn’t give a shit about his family name or his money. it wasn’t just the way you made him feel like he wasn’t the center of the universe for once. it was everything. the way you looked at him, like he was nothing special, like he was just another guy in a long line of guys who thought they could buy their way into your life.

“but i’m not like them,” he whispered, his jaw tightening, for some reason, he felt as if your opinion about him mattered, as if it would validate him and differentiate him from everyone. his fingers itched as he replayed the way you shut him down, how you were so effortlessly cold, so indifferent to everything he usually took for granted. it drove him insane, but in a way that made him want more.

heeseung's thoughts were interrupted as he heard footsteps approaching. he turned, and there she was, karina, dressed in her usual sleek, effortless luxury. she was all polished skin, perfectly pressed clothes, and a kind of beauty that seemed more crafted than natural. every strand of her hair was in place, her makeup impeccable. she was the kind of girl who seemed born to be admired, the kind who could walk into a room and instantly own it with just a smile. "there you are, baby," she said, her voice smooth and warm, but with an edge of impatience. "i've been looking for you everywhere." her eyes flicked over him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips, probably because she found him standing alone. she wasn't used to seeing him like that. the usual crowd of hangers-on was missing.

heeseung barely acknowledged her greeting, his mind still half on you, half on the uneasy tension you left behind. "yeah, here i am," he replied, his voice distant, distracted. karina raised an eyebrow, noticing his disinterest. “what's up with you? you look like you're a million miles away.” her tone was soft, but there was an undercurrent of concern, or maybe just curiosity. he wasn’t acting like himself, and karina was used to having his full attention.

heeseung felt the instant need to go back to his facade, and gave her a smirk. “i’m just thinking,” he shook his head. karina’s eyes narrowed slightly. "thinking about what?" she asked, as if she wanted to understand what had him in this strange mood he changed all of a sudden. he hesitated, looking off into the distance, towards the empty tennis courts. he didn’t want to bring you up, but something in him pushed him to. "actually," he started slowly, "i’ve been wondering... why do you hate that one girl, y/n, so much?"

karina’s eyes flickered briefly, a subtle shift in her expression that heeseung didn't miss. for a moment, he saw something, just a flash, of discomfort in her gaze, he had been around enough girls to start to notice things like this. it was fleeting, but it was enough to make him pause. she straightened, regaining her composure almost immediately, but he could tell. ‘she’s jealous,’ he realized. not just of you, but of the fact that he was talking to her about you. about you, and not her.

karina stiffened, but only for a second. the smile on her face didn’t falter. ‘it’s fine,’ she thought, ‘don’t overreact. he’s just talking about her because she’s interesting. he’s not actually...’ she couldn’t quite finish the thought. she didn’t want to risk making a scene, not when she was so close to keeping things exactly the way they were. she needed him. she couldn’t let you take him away from her. so she would do her best to portray you as someone horrible.

"i don’t hate her," she replied after a beat, her voice a little too controlled. "i just don’t get her."

heeseung raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by her attempt to deflect. "you’re not fooling me," he said, his tone soft but insistent. "you don’t like her. why?"

karina let out a quiet sigh, her gaze shifting down, away from his eyes. she was debating whether or not to say what was really on her mind. finally, she spoke, her voice low. "she just… waltzes into any group, any situation, with that awful motorcycle and a hand full of drugs, and everyone loves her. no effort. she doesn’t have to try. and i hate that."

heeseung frowned, confused. "what do you mean? i don’t get it."

karina’s eyes flickered with something darker now, the frustration seeping through her composed exterior. "i mean, i work for everything. i work for people’s approval, for their attention, for their affection. i have to try, i have to be the right kind of person, say the right things, look the right way. and then she shows up, all… whatever she is, and everyone just falls over themselves for that druggie. no trying. she doesn’t care about any of it, and still, she gets everything." her voice grew harder, colder, as if she was speaking from experience. "it’s like she doesn’t even have to try, and that’s what pisses me off."

heeseung couldn’t help but study her face, watching the jealousy simmer in her eyes. it was subtle, almost masked by her cool demeanor, but he could see it now, clear as day. karina was used to being the one people admired, the one people worked to impress. and you, someone who didn’t play by any of the rules, someone who didn't care, had that same magnetic pull, without any of the effort. and it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

karina stiffened, her lips curling slightly. "that’s exactly the problem," she snapped. "she doesn’t belong here, and she thinks that just because her father finally acknowledged her, and suddenly she’s super rich, she can act however she pleases. but it’s not like that."

the thought made him uneasy, but he didn’t show it. instead, he shrugged, his gaze drifting back to where you had disappeared. "i don’t think it’s the money," he muttered, almost to himself. "i think she just is. and maybe that’s what makes her different."

karina didn’t respond. she simply stepped closer, closing the distance between them, but he could feel the slight shift in the air, the way her usual easy confidence had faltered, just a little. "whatever you say," karina finally said, forcing a smile back onto her face. "but just remember, she’s just a low life addict, that’s all she is, and will ever be. you don’t want to get too close to someone like that."

heeseung didn’t meet her eyes. instead, his gaze lingered on the spot where you had walked away, and the words from earlier replayed in his head, the ones that had stuck with him the most, ‘i hope you can handle it.’

later that night, heeseung found himself at sunghoon’s house, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. the mansion was alive with the thumping pulse of bass-heavy music, laughter, and the clink of bottles being passed around. it was the kind of party sunghoon always threw, lavish, high-energy, packed with people who were either too drunk to remember their names or too wealthy to care about anything else. people were dancing in the living room, some on the massive leather couches, others sprawled across the marble floors, playing some ridiculous drinking game. it was a familiar scene, people letting loose, showing off, and pretending to forget the rules for a few hours.

but none of that mattered to heeseung right now. he was standing off to the side, leaning against a wall, a drink in his hand but barely touching it. his mind kept drifting back to you, the way you’d walked off earlier, the way karina’s words had lingered in his head. there was something about you that gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight would be the night that would reveal something important.

he didn’t even know if you’d show up tonight, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. would you? would you show up, walk through the door with that effortless confidence, and completely flip the energy of the room without even trying? it wasn’t even about impressing people. it was the way you didn’t need to try. you just were. and it was like you could walk into any situation and make everyone else’s chaos feel like it was secondary to you.

he tried to shake it off, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check for something. nothing. his friends were blowing up the group chat, but none of it caught his attention. it was a flurry of photos, plans to leave with a girl, someone complaining about the music being too vulgar, but nothing about you, because you weren’t part of his life. maybe that’s why he kept looking around the room, scanning the crowd, hoping, wishing that you would suddenly appear, even though he knew he was being ridiculous. you probably wouldn’t even care about coming to a place like this. too many people trying to impress each other. too much pretending.

he threw back the rest of his drink on one of sunghoon’s exotic plants, setting the glass down on the nearest table, feeling his mind drift further from the party. he leaned against the wall again, the chatter and music blurring into the background, but his focus remained fixed on the front door. he kept wondering if you'd walk through it.

across the room, jake appeared, grinning wide, holding up two shot glasses. “heeseung! come on, man, stop moping in the corner and have some fun.” he raised his eyebrows, urging him over. heeseung waved him off, still distracted. “i’m good. just got a lot on my mind.”

“yeah? don’t let it ruin the vibe, dude. you’re at a party, not a therapy session.” jake clapped him on the shoulder and turned away to rejoin the crowd. heeseung’s eyes flicked over to the front door again, and he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. ‘she’s not coming,’ he thought, but the doubt lingered. the weird hope that maybe, just maybe, she would show up. ‘she doesn’t belong here, and she doesn’t want to belong here,’ he told himself. this world’s not your scene. but that thought only seemed to make him want to see you even more.

for a moment, he wondered why he cared so much. why was he fixated on whether you’d show up or not? it didn’t make sense. he barely knew you, and yet everything about you felt like a puzzle he had to solve. and now, standing in the middle of this extravagant, noisy party, he felt that pull again, the one that made him question everything, including himself.

he glanced at the door again, half-expecting to see you walk through, but nothing. just the same crowd of people, laughing and drinking, playing their games. maybe you didn’t care about these kinds of parties. maybe you didn’t care about any of this at all.

heeseung pushed through the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, escaping the chaos of the party. the cool night air hit him like a splash of water, and he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

the backyard was quieter, but his mind was still buzzing. he was leaning against the brick wall near the pool when he spotted karina on the other side of the yard. she was laughing, leaning into some guy with slicked-back hair, a smile too perfect to be genuine. the guy was clearly into her, his hand resting a little too comfortably on her waist, but karina didn’t seem to care. she was toying with him, teasing him, her eyes glancing over at heeseung for only a second, as if she was trying to make him jealous, but he wasn’t bothered.

heeseung didn’t care. not tonight. the sight of karina flirting with someone else didn’t stir anything in him. he didn’t even feel a spark of jealousy of that guy not being him. it was strange, but in the back of his mind, he kept thinking about you, about how you didn’t fit into this world at all, and yet, you seemed to have more of an impact on him than anyone else in the room.

he was about to turn back to search for jake, when the sound of raised voices cut through the air. it wasn’t just loud, it was intense.

he turned, his curiosity piqued, and followed the noise toward the front of the house. he didn’t know what was going on, but something told him it wasn’t good. as he rounded the corner, he saw the commotion, a guard-like guy, probably hired by sunghoon, was blocking the front door, holding his hand out like a wall. and there, standing just a few feet away from him, were you, fuming, your hands raised in defiance, and your expression unreadable but full of fire.

heeseung’s heart skipped a beat. he couldn’t believe it. you were actually arguing with the guy, not giving a damn about the way he stood there like he owned the door.

“i can’t let you in. you’re not on the list mr. park provided,” the guy was saying, his voice deep and dismissive, clearly not taking you seriously. you, however, didn’t care about his rules or his attitude. "i don’t care if i’m on that fuck-ass list or not, let me in," you snapped, leaning in so close your face almost brushed against his. "move out of my way before i make you."

heeseung watched, a little impressed, a little surprised at how you held your ground. you weren’t backing down for anything, no one was going to push you around. the guy was trying to reason with you, but you weren’t having it. before things could escalate, heeseung walked up, cutting through the tension with his calm presence. the guy looked at him with confusion, but heeseung ignored him, instead turning to you.

“hey,” he said, his voice cool but loud enough for you to hear over the noise. “it’s fine. let her in.”

you stopped, glancing up at him with a look of surprise in your eyes, like you hadn’t expected him to step in. but then your face softened slightly, and he gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, signaling to the guard that it was okay.

"i said it’s fine," heeseung continued, keeping his gaze on the guy who was still hesitating. "she’s here with me."

the guard’s eyes flicked between you two, clearly unsure, but he finally backed off. “whatever,” he muttered, stepping aside. “but you’re on thin ice, lady.”

you didn’t even acknowledge the guy’s words. you turned without a second glance, and motioned for your friend to follow your lead. “gigi, let’s go,” you said, the confidence in your voice as clear as day.

heeseung blinked, surprised by the sudden appearance of the girl who had been standing quietly behind you the entire time, playing with her nails. you both were dressed in tiny dresses that revealed too much, clearly ready to go somewhere else after this. giselle wasn’t as loud or bold as you, but there was something in the way she carried herself with her salmon colored pin-straight hair and long nails, that suggested she was just as comfortable in her own skin. she followed you without hesitation, taking slow steps toward the door.

the two of you walked together like you didn’t even notice the opulence of the house, the flashy people, or the music blaring from inside. you seemed completely indifferent to the party scene, to all of it, and heeseung couldn’t help but admire it and wonder how had he not noticed you before. while everyone else was caught up in the noise, the drinking, the pretension, you and giselle were just there. not needing anything from this world. not caring about any of it. you only seemed to care about yourselves, about the quiet between you, and maybe that was the most fascinating thing about you.

heeseung was about to say something, but you didn’t even look back at him. instead, you pushed your way through the crowd with your friend, making your way to the kitchen without a second thought. he followed, but kept his distance, not wanting to intrude.

you weren’t here for the party. you were here for you, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep watching from the sidelines before he, too, would be drawn into whatever world you existed in.

“alright,” you sighed, taking a few small plastic bags from your bra, and a cigarette box. you weren’t any kind of professional underground dealer, but you were still cautious, if not, word would get to your father and it would be a mess.

“i got you, ice, it’s the powder by the way, i got molly, those pills with happy faces on them, and weed… oh, and we pre-rolled them for you, they’re kind of fat, i’m really nice like that,” you smiled at heeseung, seeing him stare at you.

“you good?” you asked, “i didn’t bring anything else, i don’t think you’d even know how to take it,” you stepped back, crossing your arms.

“oh, yeah, yeah, that’s good,” he shook his head, snapping out of his trance. “can i scan-pay you?” heeseung asked, realizing, of course, he didn’t have any cash on him.

“yeah, it’s alright,” you said, pulling out your phone and typing in an amount before switching to a qr code for him to scan. for a moment, you considered scamming him, but decided against it. it would’ve been easy, he didn’t even ask about the prices.

once the payment went through, you flashed a quick, satisfied smile back to giselle. you could already feel happier knowing you would get out of this mansion. as you began to turn away, heeseung’s gaze shifted, his eyes landing on someone across the room. “hold on,” he muttered, scanning the crowd. he spotted jungwon nearby, leaning casually against the wall, chatting with a few people. heeseung grabbed the bags from the counter and stepped over to him.

“hey,” heeseung called, catching jungwon’s attention. “take this to sunghoon, yeah?” he passed the items over, his tone nonchalant. jungwon raised an eyebrow, looking at the bags before meeting heeseung’s eyes. “man, the things you get yourself into for a girl.”

heeseung shrugged, offering a half-smile. “it’s for me. just get it to him. he’ll know what to do.”

jungwon gave him a nod, slipping the bags into his jacket pocket. “got it.”

heeseung’s eyes followed you and giselle as you made your way toward the door, his steps quickening as he caught up with you just before you reached the curb.

“hey, where are you two headed?” he asked, voice casual but with a hint of concern. you looked at him, a little surprised to see him following. “we’re going to the south,” you said, glancing at giselle. “there’s a car race. about half an hour away, and since i had to come all the way up here for you, we’re hoping to make it to the after party.”

heeseung nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “i’ll drive you,” he said, his tone suddenly firm. “we wouldn’t want you, both of you, getting into any trouble out here.”

you raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but too high to argue. you glanced at giselle, who was lighting another blunt, and let out a sigh. "fine," you said, already feeling the weight of the night catching up with you. "i’m not in the mood to call a cab and waste money." giselle shot you a look that was part judgment, part annoyance, but she kept quiet. you could feel her disapproval, but you were beyond caring at this point.

heeseung led the way, and you followed without a word. when you reached the driveway, your eyes widened slightly at the car parked there. heeseung’s car was a sleek, black sports car, the kind that turned heads without even trying. it was polished to perfection, the curves of the body glinting in the dim light of the streetlamp. it was the kind of car that screamed wealth, effortlessly.

“is this yours?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. it was the first time something he had impressed you. heeseung smirked as he opened the passenger door for you. “yeah. pretty sure it’s faster than any cab you’d get out here.”

you shook your head, sliding into the leather seat. giselle climbed in at the back, sitting with her arms crossed, clearly not impressed. she still had that cold, distant air about her when it came to heeseung and his “scrooge mcduck” world.

heeseung didn’t seem bothered. he slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and the low purr of the car’s power seemed to cut through the tension in the air. as he pulled out of the driveway, the smooth hum of the car filled the silence between you all.

it was an uncomfortable ride, but at least it was fast, and you weren’t wasting money on a cab. you stared out the window, the city lights blurring by, while giselle stared ahead, looking as unimpressed with heeseung and his world as ever. heeseung, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. the drive was smooth, fast. but even as he focused on the road, his mind kept drifting back to you.

he glanced over at you, your face illuminated by the streetlights, your expression unreadable. and for a brief second, he realized that he didn’t want this ride to end. he didn’t want to stop being close to you, even if just for a moment.

as you got closer to the south side, the vibe of the neighborhood started to change. heeseung could feel it in the air. the buildings were older, the streets narrower, the houses less pristine than the ones he was used to. the gleaming luxury of his own world felt miles away. his fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings, a slight unease creeping in.

you glanced over at him, sensing the shift in his energy. “you okay?” you asked, eyes narrowing slightly as you noticed him tense up and grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. heeseung didn’t respond at first. he just kept driving, his gaze flicking between the rearview mirror and the unfamiliar streets. it was clear he wasn’t used to this. “yeah,” he said, his voice cool but there was something off about it. “just... not exactly my usual neighborhood.”

you gave him a knowing look, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “don’t worry,” you said, your voice light but with an edge of seriousness. “i’ll protect you, whatever happens pretty boy.”

heeseung shot you a glance, eyes flicking over to meet yours, before rolling his eyes. “i don’t need protection, thanks,” he muttered, but there was an almost imperceptible tension in his jaw that gave him away.

you could tell he was uncomfortable, and it wasn’t just the drive. his world and this one were different in every way, and he was out of his element, but you didn’t say anything. it was clear enough without needing to spell it out. heeseung took a turn down an alleyway, the pavement rough and uneven. he parked the car next to a few other vehicles, feeling the weight of the decision. the streetlights here weren’t as bright, and there was a certain stillness in the air that felt too quiet for comfort. his mind flashed briefly to the idea of getting robbed, but he pushed the thought away, shaking his head.

“don’t take it personally,” you said, reading his discomfort easily. you and giselle climbed out of the car, both of you moving with purpose. “come on,” you said, glancing back at him. “the after party’s just down the street.”

heeseung hesitated, but finally stepped out of the car. the low hum of the engine idled in the background, the sound of the city slowly creeping in around him. he walked behind you and giselle, trying not to seem too out of place as you led the way out the alley.

the party was just around the corner, and the closer you got, the louder the music became. from a distance, it looked like any other chaotic house party, but heeseung could sense the difference. the people were rougher, the energy sharper. it felt like a different world, one he had no real experience in. you shot him a glance over your shoulder as you reached the front door. “you’re fine,” you said, almost as if you were trying to reassure him, though you both knew there was no guarantee of that. you gave him a small smirk before pushing open the door.

heeseung paused at the threshold, looking around. this was a place where he didn’t belong, a world where people didn’t care about money or status. it was raw, unpredictable, and everything in him wanted to retreat, but something kept him standing there. you had pulled him into this world, whether he liked it or not. heeseung followed you and giselle into the backyard, where the atmosphere felt more relaxed, but still lively. the yard was filled with groups of people gathered around, casually chatting and laughing. the air was thicker here, filled with the mix of cigarette smoke and the low hum of music coming from the house.

heeseung couldn’t help but feel out of place as his gaze landed on two guys, who were lounging on a bench, laughing with a couple of girls. their casual demeanor was in sharp contrast to the tightly wound posture he’d been carrying since arriving. they noticed him immediately, their eyes flicking to him, then back to you and giselle. noting he was one of ‘yours.’

“girls, you bailed on us tonight,” keeho pouted.

“we told you we were going to sell at one of y/n new classmates party. your little suicide car race isn’t that important,” giselle rolled her eyes kicking keeho’s shin with her heel, making him hiss.

yeonjun raised an eyebrow and smirked at heeseung, who was still tense, and looked like a mannequin from a golf store. “yo, man, you look like you’re about to shit yourself already. what’s with the stiff face?” he asked, clearly amused by heeseung’s discomfort. keeho chuckled, looking at him with a knowing smile.

“you’re here with her, though,” keeho added, tilting his head in your direction. “so, you’re alright, huh? wasn’t expecting to see you here, rich kid.”

you laughed at his comment, taking giselle’s blunt and taking a drag out of it.

heeseung wasn’t sure how to respond. he wasn’t sure why he felt so out of place. it wasn’t like he had anything against the people here. still, he couldn’t shake the tension in his shoulders. “yeah, just not... used to this,” he muttered, glancing around at the unfamiliar scene.

you caught his eye, noticing the tension that still hadn’t fully left him. with a small grin, you spoke up, your tone light but firm. “don’t sweat it. i said i’d protect you didn’t i? you’re fine. just enjoy the night.”

yeonjun laughed and leaned back, gesturing to the people around him. “we’re bro’s, right? just have a good time. you’re with us now,” he said, his smile more welcoming than teasing.

you and heeseung exchanged a quick look, something unspoken passing between you before you broke the silence with a small smile. “want a drink?” you asked, your tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more, like you were offering him a way to settle in, just a little. heeseung hesitated, glancing around at the people milling about, some laughing, some lost in their own world. he still wasn’t quite comfortable, still felt like an outsider, but the offer was simple enough. he nodded slowly. “yeah. sure.”

you led the way over to a small table where drinks were being passed around, beer cans, a few bottles of cheap liquor, and what looked like a mix of makeshift cocktails. the scene felt different than the polished, curated parties he was used to. you grabbed a bottle of something brown and poured it into a plastic cup, handing it to him. “you’re unlucky, i don’t have any fancy cocktails,” you said with a half-smirk, leaning back slightly as he took the drink.

“thanks,” he muttered, eyeing the cup with a little wariness before taking a careful sip. it was strong. way stronger than he expected, and he quickly forced himself to swallow, trying not to show that it burned. heeseung took another drink, feeling the warmth spread through his chest as the alcohol hit him. the tension in his body started to loosen, but his mind kept swirling around the question that had been nagging him ever since you first crossed his path.

“why are you staying with me?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, a little more curious as you two settled down on two plastic chairs. “why not go back to your friends? seems like you’d rather be with them.” he watched you for a second as you absentmindedly looked around. for a moment, you didn’t answer, but then you met his gaze, your eyes soft and a little more open than usual, like you were letting him see something deeper.

“because i knew you wouldn’t feel comfortable by yourself,” you said casually, but there was something in your tone, something almost kind, that caught him off guard. you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but he could tell it was, at least to you. heeseung blinked, surprised. he hadn’t expected that kind of answer. it wasn’t what he’d imagined, especially with how standoffish you'd seemed earlier. you weren’t trying to be here out of obligation, or to entertain some rich kid from the party.

and then, as the silence stretched on for a second, he noticed something in your manner. something that shifted, just a little. your body language had relaxed, your words were slower, more open. heeseung's gaze narrowed, and he took a longer look at you. “wait a minute,” he said, voice a little more cautious. “you’re high, aren’t you?” he laughed.

“yeah, i’ve been for the last ten minutes,” you admitted with a small laugh, your words softening at the edges. “it’s just the same thing i gave you, though. don’t get all worried on me.”

“so you’re... this you?” he asked, motioning vaguely to the two of you, to the situation, to everything happening around you. “not the one back at the school?”

you shrugged again, but this time it was more relaxed. “yeah, i guess so,” you said, eyes flickering away for a second, like you were deciding whether to share more or pull back. but then, you met his gaze again, almost like you were daring him to say something about it. “i thought i’ve always been me, but now that you mention it. i guess i kind of act with some sort of resentment to you guys,”

he took another drink, then looked at you, his voice softer this time. “why’s that?”

“hard feeling,” you said simply. “family things, but it’s all handled.” you lied, not wanting to open up to him completely yet. there was definitely a change in him, and you noticed it. and in his eyes you could see the slight desperation and need. it was his new demeanour that made him different. you couldn't explain, because words couldn't even clarify what was starting to lure you in.

“heeseung, seriously, i’m opening up to you, and you keep looking at me like you want to fuck,” you said out of nowhere. he instantly tensed up and looked away.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t realize,” he said. it was obvious he didn’t want you to think of him as a player anymore, he was actually trying to please you now. you let out a soft, teasing laugh, leaning back in your chair, knowing exactly what you were doing. you decided to play into his usual game just enough to give him a bit of satisfaction. "do you?"

heeseung immediately turned toward you, eyes widening in surprise as he caught the playful glint in yours. he knew exactly what you were hinting at, but he still tried to keep his cool, pretending to be unfazed. "huh?"

"do you… want to fuck?" you asked casually, watching him with a challenge in your eyes.

his breath caught for a split second, but he quickly composed himself. he opened his mouth, unsure of how to answer, and hesitated. "i… don’t know," he muttered, trying to play it safe, though his voice betrayed a slight crack of uncertainty. you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your head tilting back as you let out a short snort. you met his eyes again, smirking. "what do you mean you don��t know? is it really that hard to say what you want?"

heeseung shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to play it cool, but the nervousness was obvious. and it was so very clear that he wanted it. he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flickering away for a moment. "what even is your point y/n?"

you shrugged nonchalantly, your tone lighter now. "nothing, just asking."

after that night, things were different. heeseung wasn't the same. he wasn't playing games anymore, not the way he used to. it wasn’t like he’d suddenly become someone else, but around you, he changed. that distance he always kept, it started to shrink.

you could feel it in the way he acted, the way he’d look at you sometimes when you were talking in class or lunch with your friend, like he was listening for real and not just pretending. he was less guarded, more real with you.

you started meeting up behind the gym often. no one ever really saw you, and that’s how you both liked it. the air was always a little warmer there, the kind of quiet where you could actually talk. you’d smoke, and he’d sit with you, talking about everything and nothing at all. and even when the conversation would die down, there was this comfortable silence between you two. the kind that felt easy, like you didn’t have to fill every gap with words.

one day, he even just showed up at your door, standing there with his dad, holding a gift basket. you froze when you opened the door. heeseung, here, with his dad, visiting your dad. it was almost laughable. you never thought you’d see the day, but there he was, a little nervous, but still trying to act cool.

"uh, hey," he said, like it wasn’t the most awkward thing ever. "my dad was going to visit your dad... said something about business visits or whatever, so i came with him."

you blinked, still processing, then stepped aside to let them in. after that, you both started to realize how much closer you’d gotten. things weren’t just about secret meetings anymore. they were about knowing each other, understanding each other in a way you didn’t before.

heeseung wasn’t a player anymore, not around you. he wasn’t hiding behind any walls or pretending to be something he wasn’t. it was like he was finally letting himself be seen, and you liked that. a lot.

even with all the changes, even with how much closer you two had become, there was still that one thing hanging between you. heeseung was still with karina. it wasn’t like you didn’t notice it. the way they would still walk around school together, the way she’d smile at him when he passed by. there were no obvious signs of trouble, no cracks in their relationship that you could see.

even though heeseung would drop little hints, those quiet, uncertain words when the two of you were alone ‘i’m thinking about breaking up with her…’ it never seemed to go anywhere. he would say it with a kind of vulnerability, like he was testing the waters, like he was hoping you’d say something that would push him in one direction or the other.

you couldn’t help but feel frustrated. there was this constant tug-of-war between what he said to you in private and what he did when the world was watching. it felt like he was trying to keep one foot in both worlds, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were left waiting in the middle, unsure if you were just a momentary distraction or something more. you told yourself you shouldn’t read too much into it. that he was confused, that maybe it wasn’t the right time, or maybe he didn’t have the courage to make the change. but every time he’d tell you he wanted to leave her, you’d see the conflict in his eyes, that quiet desperation to be understood, to be seen. still, he never followed through. he never made the choice.

you stayed friendly, maybe out of habit, maybe because you weren’t quite ready to let go of the connection you’d built. you let him tag along when you hung out with your friends down south at the house. a spot that was more a sanctuary than anything else, away from the world, away from expectations.

heeseung still had that rich boy aura about him, the one that made him stick out in a crowd of worn-out jeans and streetwise attitudes. but your friends didn’t mind. they were good with him being there, even if they teased him a little. mocking his clean-cut appearance, joking about how his designer clothes didn’t exactly fit the vibe. they liked him well enough, though. it was obvious he wasn’t as comfortable with them as he was in his own circles, but he did try. and they did notice how close you’d gotten to him.

“look at mr. fancy pants over here,” yeonjun would joke, nudging him as he sipped on whatever drink was put in front of him. “you sure you’re not lost, rich boy? this isn’t exactly sushi bar territory.”

he’d smile, a little awkwardly, trying to laugh it off, but there was always a flicker of discomfort behind his eyes. he wasn’t like them, not really. they knew it, and he knew it, but it didn’t matter as much when he was there, surrounded by your friends, just being with you.

you’d catch moments, though. quiet ones when he was staring off into the distance, or when his laugh felt a little too forced. you knew it was because he was still stuck. still torn between two worlds, two lives. and you were tired of being in the middle of it. though, what ou didn’t know, that for him it was much more than that. he was stuck between two girls of different worlds. karina and you.

karina wasn’t someone he actually liked, he was just with her for his reputation and his family. but still, he was with her. and you, you were absolutely everything to him. you were the trouble that came along with bad decisions and the reward that came after them.

it all came crashing down one night when you and your friends were hanging out at the house, like you’d done countless times before. the air was thick with smoke, the sounds of laughter and music filling the dim-lit space as everyone just tried to forget for a few hours. it was supposed to be like any other night, a break from everything that weighed you down. but then, out of nowhere, the door slammed open.

sirens wailed in the distance, but it was already too late. the police stormed in, uniformed and angry, their boots pounding against the cracked floors, their voices demanding silence. they didn’t give anyone a chance to react before they were ripping through everything. throwing aside old records, scattering things off shelves, knocking over bottles.

"this is a raid," one of the officers barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "everything’s getting confiscated."

your heart sank as they swept through the room, destroying everything. things you had no idea they’d even care about. all the memories, the things that had made this place feel like home, were being taken apart right in front of you. your childhood, your sanctuary, was crumbling.

you stood frozen for a second, not sure what to do, but your instinct kicked in. no way in hell. this wasn’t right. you couldn’t let them destroy it all. you rushed forward, intent on stopping them, shouting at the officers to stop, to leave, to just go away.

"who the hell do you think you guys are?! this is my house! you can’t do this!" you screamed, your hands shaking with adrenaline as you tried to push past one of the officers to get to the old furniture, the things that meant something to you. everything in this house had a story, a memory. and they were tearing it down, trying to find something.

but before you could get too far, a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you back. it was heeseung, his grip firm but gentle as he yanked you away from the officers.

“stop,” he muttered urgently, his voice tense. "you’re not gonna win this. they’ll arrest you, they’ll make it worse." even if he was slightly scared, and terrified of getting himself arrested and the word getting to his father, he had to take care of you. he just wondered how they found out about this place, a drug raid was almost impossible, you were within the legal bounds.

you were almost angry at heeseung for not letting you go. in that moment, as the officers trashed everything that meant something to you, the anger bubbled up inside. how could he stand there, calm and collected, trying to hold you back, when everything you cared about was being destroyed? it felt like betrayal, even though you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. he wasn’t the one doing this.

you tried to pull away from him, your heart racing, your mind spinning. "let me go, heeseung!" you snapped, your voice sharp and furious. " i can’t just stand here and watch them do this! they’re destroying everything!"

but he held you tighter, his grip unyielding. “i’m not letting you make things worse. not like this,” he said, his voice tight but calm, like he knew exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t want to hear it.

you yanked your arm again, almost reckless with frustration. your pulse was pounding in your ears. “why? why are you stopping me? i can’t just let them-” you broke off, your voice cracking. you didn’t want to admit how scared you were, how helpless you felt. in that moment, you realized, there wasn’t anybody there for you. the house of your mother was being searched, and she wasn’t here. and you knew you’re father wouldn’t care.

his eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought he might let go. but instead, he pulled you closer, his voice dropping to something gentler, but firm. “because if you go after them now, you’re just giving them more reason to hurt you. to make it worse. this isn’t the time.”

you hated that he was right. you absolutely hated it.

it wasn’t just about the stuff. it wasn’t just about the house. it was the fact that it all felt like a reminder of how much you didn’t have control over. the way things kept slipping through your fingers, no matter how hard you tried to hold on. you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling in sharp breaths. “they can’t just take everything,” you muttered, the anger still hot in your throat. “this was my life. my memories. this house is all i am.”

heeseung didn’t say anything right away. he just looked at you. like he really understood. he got it, even if you weren’t sure you could let him. finally, he exhaled slowly. "i know. but this isn’t the way to fix it."

you stood there, your body still tense, but slowly, you started to feel the reality of the situation hit you. he wasn’t letting you be reckless because he didn’t care. he was trying to protect you from making a bigger mistake, from getting hurt. from losing more. with a heavy sigh, you slumped against him, the fight draining from your body. you weren’t sure if you were more angry at the situation or at yourself for feeling so helpless. but in that moment, as the chaos continued around you, all you could do was lean into him. just a little, because you knew you couldn’t do this alone.

after the chaos of the raid, everything seemed to move in slow motion. the police had confiscated everything they wanted that seemed suspicious, leaving nothing but a wrecked space behind. they’d taken their time, ensuring that no one was left with any trace of what used to be there. when it was over, the officers had turned their attention to you, with blaming guns in hand.

you hadn’t even realized they were going to search you until they were doing it, their hands cold and impersonal as they patrolled your pockets, your bag, your shoes. your heart hammered in your chest, and you were still shaking from the adrenaline, from everything that had just happened. everything felt surreal, like you were watching it happen to someone else. but the reality of it hit hard when they finally let you out of the interrogation room, their eyes on you like you were some kind of suspect.

you stood outside the police station, the weight of everything pressing down on you. the air felt colder now, the harshness of the situation settling in. you were free to go, but the damage had been done. you felt exposed, like a part of you had been torn away that you couldn’t get back. but you couldn’t stay there anymore. the night had stretched on, and you just needed to leave.

as you stood there, trying to process the mess that had been made of your life, you heard someone approaching from behind. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. his footsteps, the way he moved, the tension in his gait, it was heeseung.

he walked up to you, his face serious, eyes darker than usual. "are you okay?" he asked, though you could tell he wasn’t asking just out of concern. he was searching for something else, something deeper. you didn’t answer right away. you couldn’t. instead, you just gave a tight nod, your throat too tight to speak. but then he said something that made your stomach drop.

“it was karina,” he said.

you blinked, confused. “what do you mean?”

heeseung exhaled sharply, shaking his head slightly, like he couldn’t believe it. "she’s the one who called the cops. i know it. she slipped up when i talked to her a couple of minutes ago, she somehow knew i was here.”

a cold feeling swept over you as everything clicked into place. karina. karina had followed him all the way to the house, had gotten the cops involved. it made sense, but the realization didn’t make it hurt any less.

“she did this?” you asked quietly, your voice hollow. you didn’t need to say much more. it was all there. you didn’t actually believe it was possible for someone to be such a horrible human being. heeseung didn’t respond immediately. his jaw clenched, and you could see how much it was bothering him. how much it hurt him to admit it, but he couldn’t deny it.

"yeah," he muttered, his voice low. "i didn’t want to believe it at first, but... it’s clear now." he looked at you, his expression almost guilty, like he was carrying something heavy. "i never wanted you to be caught up in that. i never thought she’d go this far. i broke up with her, she kept bothering me about being here."

you turned away, looking out into the night, the cool air stinging your face. "so what now?" you asked, the words coming out flat, tired. heeseung stepped closer, his voice more earnest now, as if he wanted to say something, to fix things. "i don’t know," he admitted quietly. "i never wanted it to be like this. i don’t want to lose you... but i don’t know how to fix this either. i don’t want to hurt you."

you glanced at him, feeling the weight of the moment. part of you wanted to scream, to say everything that was building up inside, but another part of you just felt... defeated. because the truth was, even now, with everything that had happened, you still didn’t have an answer. and maybe that was the problem. you could feel it. the tension that had been there for so long. the feelings that you couldn’t fully express, that he couldn’t seem to acknowledge. and here you were, caught in the middle of it all.

“you’ve already hurt me, heeseung,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i guess... i guess i’ve been letting you. because i still don’t know how to walk away.”

heeseung’s expression faltered. "i never wanted you to feel that way."

you shook your head. “you don’t get it, do you? it’s not about what you want anymore. it’s about what’s already happened.”

he didn’t have a response. all he could do was stand there, looking at you like he wanted to fix things, but knowing he couldn’t. because when it came down to it, the choice had never been yours. and it sure as hell wasn’t his to make anymore.

for the next few days, you avoided heeseung like the plague. and he couldn’t get close to you. everytime he tried, something got in the way, his friends, responsibilities. and you were fine with that. you just had to accept that everything that happened with him was just a slip up, and you’d soon be in your usual bad girl exterior, ignoring him one again.

but it wasn’t that easy. not with karina still out to make your life impossible. she was still angry at you for whatever reason. angry enough to confront you again.

“how are you doing, y/n?” karina pulled out a chair in your empty lunch table, sitting down neatly on it.

“what the fuck do you want?” you spat, annoyed by her presence. you could already feel the stares of students and teachers, as they were informed of what happened.

“geez, calm down, we wouldn’t want you to get a violence complaint and get sent back to the police station, wouldn’t we?”

that was all she needed to say, the single words that came out of her mouth. and she was face down on the ground. you pressed your knee on her back, keeping her grounded, as your hand made her face keep contact with the dirty floor. “you keep fucking messing with me karina, i told you i wouldn’t let it go.”

from a table not to far away, heeseung sat with his friends, watching the scene intently, and for once, heeseung felt himself worrying about a girl. not karina, but you. for once he felt the need to protect you, even if you were already capable on your own.

a small drop of blood from her perfect skin was enough to make you land yourself in the principal’s office. after the fight in the cafeteria, everything changed. you were suspended for your actions, the consequences of that impulsive moment catching up with you. karina had pushed you too far, it was messy. it was ugly. and now, it was your reality.

you spent the next week alone, mostly, apart from that day your father made you attend rehab, because for some reason the school requested it, there you met some nice people. the suspension meant missing school, being grounded and missing your friends down south who kept spamming your phone, and also being forced to face the aftermath of everything. it was a strange kind of isolation. you hadn’t expected to feel so disconnected. the chaos of the fight, the anger you’d been holding back for so long. it all felt like it had burned itself out in that one violent moment. and now, there was just the quiet, with nothing left to do but think.

one afternoon, as you sat on your huge balcony, smoking a cigarette, since your father confiscated everything else, you tried to let the smoke clear your head. you watched the world outside, the fancy cars in traffic passing below, people going about their business, and it felt almost surreal. like everything that had happened. the raid, the fight, was part of some other version of your life. but you couldn’t forget. you couldn’t ignore the tension in your chest. the weight of everything you’d lost. even if you didn’t want to admit it, even if you didn’t want to feel it, you still missed him. you missed the parts of him that were real. the ones that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could be different. but now, with everything laid bare, you realized it was never going to be the way you wanted.

you sighed and flicked the cigarette to the ground, watching it burn out as you leaned back against the railing. it was quiet here, just you and the world. it gave you space to breathe, to think. but still, your mind kept returning to heeseung. to the way he’d looked at you in the hallways before everything went south. to the way he used to make you feel seen. and even though you were angry at him, you still couldn’t shake the thought ‘maybe i miss him more than i should.’

you were lost in thought when the doorbell rang, snapping you out of your haze. no one ever came to your house except your dad, so the sound was unexpected. you walked to the top of the stairs to see who it was, but when you saw the butler let heeseung inside, your stomach dropped. what the hell was he doing here? after everything, after you cut him off. he still showed up. frustration hit you immediately, and you turned to leave, heading quickly to your room. but heeseung wasn’t giving up that easily. you heard his footsteps behind you as he called your name. "hey, wait!"

you didn’t stop. you just pushed harder to get to your door, slamming it behind you and locking it. but you knew he was still out there, still following you.

“please, can we talk?” he said softly through the door. you stood there, fists clenched, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to know why he couldn’t just leave you alone.

you hesitated for a moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him standing there. you unlocked the door and let him in, and he stepped inside, his gaze immediately scanning your room. it was quiet, almost sterile. nothing like the space you had shown him at your old place. there were no personal touches, no signs of the messy, chaotic you he’d seen before. it felt different. distant.

heeseung looked around, his eyes softening with something like regret, but before he could say anything, you snapped.

“you have no right to come back into my life like this, like you own the place!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger. “after everything, after you- ugh! you can’t just show up here, acting like it’s nothing!”

he took a step back, clearly taken off guard by the intensity of your words. but you didn’t care. the frustration, the hurt. it all spilled out in a rush. “you didn’t fight for shit, heeseung! you never did. you just kept going back to karina and that made her destroy my life! so don’t come here now, thinking everything’s fine!”

his face tightened, but he didn’t speak. he just stood there, looking at you, trying to find the right words. but you couldn’t let him speak. not yet.

“you don’t get to do this,” you spat, your chest heaving. “you don’t get to just fix it after everything you’ve done.”

heeseung didn't say anything. he just stepped forward and pulled you into a kiss-fast, intense. you froze, feeling all the anger and frustration you'd built up dissolve in that moment. it wasn't gentle, it wasn't soft. it was his apology, his regret, all packed into one. you tried to push him away to keep talking, but he didn't let you. instead, his hand gripped your wrist, pushing you against the wall, and it made everything inside you twist. when he pulled back, his breath was heavy, eyes searching yours.

“i will cuss you out heeseung, for everything, maybe not just now,” you breathed out, making a small grin appear on his face.

his hands gently traced the contours of your figure as his gaze remained focused on you. he was tender, careful, his lips leaving soft, lingering touches, wanting you to remember only the feel of his kiss. "i've missed you so fucking much, you don’t even know…" he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw. "me too," you replied softly, pressing your lips against his again.

his hands quickly went to the hem of your shirt, his experienced fingers peeling it shirt off your warm body, a small sigh leaving his lips as they trailed against your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along it. your breathing got heavier as he sucked hard occasionally, very clearly trying to leave marks.

“fuck, slow down, i’m not going anywhere,” you let out a small breathy gasp, feeling his sharp teeth numbing on your skin, then his soft lips pressing against the spot, almost delicately. you moaned lightly as heeseung slid his knee between your thighs, feeling him smirk against your sensitive skin. “yeah, i know.”

heeseung then moved you both to the edge of your bed, gently letting you rest on your back, your head landing softly against the pillows, still very much aware of how much you needed his mouth back on your body.

he resumed to trailing kisses down your chest, through every single line of dark ink on your body, until he reached the hem of your shorts, looking up at you with those dark doe eyes, that drowned in need. “just relax, can you do that for me?” heeseung slowly started to take off your bottoms, as you sighed out “uh-huh.” he pulled them down your legs, throwing them away from your sight.

“just like that,” he slipped his hand through your white laced underwear causing you to shudder. as his soft fingertips brushed against your cunt. your chest immediately tensed feeling his index and middle finger rub down your clit, your wetness coating his fingers.

heeseung captured your lips into a hungry kiss, distracting you for a small second as he pushed two fingers deep inside of you, reaching up. but soon enough, he had you gasping for air against his mouth, as he moved them quicker, his thumb pressing against your clit, sending a warm feeling through your body.

your hand gripped the soft silk sheets, the other on his shoulder, feeling him so deep inside. your hips buckled unconsciously, wanting to get even closer to him. “fuck,” you whispered, dryly moaning, getting the overwhelming sense of cumming start building up.

heeseung kissed the corner of your mouth one time, before going down on you, his hot tongue leaving a wet trail against your skin, and then he replaced his thumb, sucking on your swollen clit, while his fingers still worked their way into you. his eyes observed how you reacted, almost as if hunting you down. it all felt too much, many sensations at the same time, they had you struggling with your words in between moans, as the knot inside your stomach tightened but quickly gave up, “fuck, ‘seung- mhmm, i’m gonna-“ you whimpered, feeling your legs start shaking, making heeseung go impossibly harder on you.

he fingered and sucked you until you came down your high, making sure to lick his fingers clean, not wanting to get your bed dirty, even if it would in a few seconds. you could feel him getting more hard, as he pressed his hips down against your plush thigh to get a bit of friction. a smirk spread across your mouth because you knew you were the reason why.

“come on, let me see your face, pretty girl,” he grabbed you with his other hand, turning your hot face towards him, almost grinning in victory when seeing your half lidded pinkish eyes, as if you were drunk from arousal and his touch. he bored into your face, as if looking at a piece of art, “you’re goddamn beautiful,” he uttered.

“yeah, i know,” you told him, making him laugh, while using your hands to unbutton his pants, starting to slide them off. heeseung noticed this, looking down at your actions then back up at you with a smirk, “and you’re telling me to slow down,” he said with a devilish tone, helping you take off his clothes, ever so slowly, torturing you with the time.

you threw him a warning look, as he propped up, still on top of you, and took off his shirt as well, letting you see his slightly tanned skin, clear of any love bites that soon would coat him. heeseung hovered over your body, watching intently how he deeply buried himself inside of you. he wouldn’t let you do any of the work, it was going to be him.

you felt him pulsate inside of you, your walls stretching out for him due to his size. it was almost painful to feel too full at once. heeseung was trying not to go crazy over how warm and tight your were, suppressing the need to fuck you with everything he had here and now, before starting to move slowly. he went as deep as he could, and once you got used to the feeling of his dick inside you, heeseung started thrusting in roughly, enough to send spams through your heat, to your body.

“fuck, you’re so good for me,” heeseung groaned, and he took advantage of your position under him to make particularly strong thursts, tightening his grip on your waist, his expression full with desire for more, to get lost in you. and your face didn’t make it better, you looked so needy and high from him at the same time, it made him want to fuck you endlessly, and lose control.

his hips kept slamming with yours mercilessly, and you felt yourself aching, wanting to cum once again, letting out a loud inevitable moan. heeseung was pressed by your walls, as he approached his edge soon, taking the moment to pound into you quickly, almost making himself a whining mess.

you whimpered into his mouth due to the overstimulation he caused you with his thrusts, a knot ran through your legs and you didn't know how much longer you could resist, you felt unbelievably full from him. your warm breath made him lose even more concentration, as he mindlessly came inside of you, coating your insides, still throbbing and moving slowly into you.

when he finally stopped and cleaned you up carefully, heeseung dropped next to you, turning to watch your profile. he raised his fist, getting your attention, and you gave him an odd look before joining your own first with him in the middle in a fistbump, even if you felt like you were about to give away into sleepiness. “atleast that’s better than making stuff awkward,” you sighed, looking up at the ceiling, only dressed in your shirt and a new pair of underwear, feeling a small tug in your throat from being dry.

“hey, we need to get up, i was planning on taking you out,” heeseung said, poking your arm playfully. he couldn’t be serious, wanting you to leave the comfort of your bed after not being able to feel how to walk.

turning your body to your side, you looked out of the glass panel that was your window, noticing the sky get darker “you’re crazy, i’m not doing that right now, let me be,” the words left your mouth tiredly, groaning as you adjusted your position.

heeseung shook his head, hearing a small breath from you, telling him you were in already dream-land, way too far for him to get ahold of you. and he was sure it would always be like that, that he would be the one chasing you, and he didn’t mind, because after all the bad decisions, he was knew he could handle it, the bad reputation and everything that came in between.

BTW: this is saur embarrassing, if it doesn’t get atleast one note, i will delete my whole account istg. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 also, not proofread. i’m not reading all that stuff again. ew.

EXTRA:

masterlist.

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malues · 4 months ago

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HAIII!! I was super fixated on LOTS during my exams and it almost cost me. But it helped relieve stress at least :D ANYWAY. I got stuff I wanna say, and it’s nice to have a main creator’s opinion. But pls correct or change my headcannons or anything, I do like accuracy. :p Apologies if this is long (I literally hv no other ppl to talk ab LOTS stuff like this with)

I see Michael and CB always hv sharp teeth when rlly upset, and I interpret CB’s lil bump in his teeth as a fang. Is that a good interpretation to have? I like the idea of those two being an intimidating sharp teeth duo

Semi-related to above, I like to think operators and their patients are very super similar. Like they’re sort of fated to be that patients operator for a reason yk? Like Michael and CB mirror each other a lot in their own way, yet are so opposite. And it seemed that PB was clean and stuff, but his operator wasn’t (rlly cool mirroring). Crown and Sean just compliment each other and get along great. I’m also mostly fixated on Michael’s and CB’s dynamic, Michael and CB being a complete mental mess in their own rights, and little things like Michael likes rabbits and CB bunny ears jokes :> I also like the idea CB holds a form of resentment cuz his friends get chiller operators and he was instead locked up for months.

Also Michael seems like the type to get over-stimulated and lash out, or collapse onto herself. Would she pace around? (If so, I like to think she holds her pinwheel top still cuz it’ll spin from the air yk and it would be more over-stimulating) Does she pen click when frustrated? Does she chew? Or does she mess with her pinwheel pieces>

I also like the idea that CB throws tantrums and is prone to unintentionally lashing out, he’s over-energetic and he can’t help it. Like he lashes out at crown and his operator. Would his lashing out come from stress, fear or anxiety?

I think that’s mostly it. Uhhhh my only complaint is you should’ve made PB cry in episode 1c, I wanna see TEARS lol

Ok thank u! I’m excited for more episodes, livestreams, videos and whatever else u hv planned ^.^

I LOVE ALL UR THOUGHTS!!! ill try to answer these without giving too much away

the fangs/bumps in a characters teeth is less of an actual trait and more of a little thing i draw whenever i feel like itd be funny to show on screen, but more detailed interpretations of that are fine by me!

the relationship between operator and patient is really hard to explain, especially in a general sense. i wouldnt call it fate COMPLETELY but the patient that an operator is assigned isnt COMPLETELY random either if that makes any sense. im happy u noticed the similarities between cb and michael, and we'll get to see a lot more of their relationship as the episodes go on. both of them are very prone to lashing out if in the right context but for their own reasons. the lashouts originate from a lot of mixed emotions, but i think part of it comes from both of them thinking "Why am i stuck with this asshole?"

also i agree that i shouldve made pb cry in 1c. when faeb did those lines i was taken aback cause i didnt expect him to sound like hes on the verge of tears!!!! but i guess it makes sense

thank you for your kind words!! im excited for everyone to see whats next for the show

#love of the s*n #malueslots

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base0h · 2 years ago

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asl trio when there s/o doesnt say ily back please? also i luv ur writingg!

a/n - why do I feel like Sabo would just start sobbing. 😭 also I’m adding shanks bec why not 💜

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, Sabo sobbing for 15 minutes straight

You’re supposed to say it back

- I imagine that shanks wouldn’t really let you get away with it 👀

- “Bye baby! I’m just gonna go to the town to buy some things before we leave. Benn and Roux will help me if I need it.”

- Shanks tenderly hugged you to his chest and pressed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you, I miss you already.”

- “You’re still holding me.”

- You waved goodbye to him, starting to walk away while purposely not saying I love you back to him. You thought it’d be funny to see his reaction

- He grabbed your wrist gently, “Hm- you’re forgetting something?”

- “what?? I have my bag, weapon, and a jacket.. Im not forgetting anything!” You feigned innocence, and you could see his expression dropping down

- depression surrounded the emperor as he slouched over, almost pouting at you, very impatiently waiting for you to say it back to him (before he threw a temper tantrum)

- you laughed, god he was such a baby sometimes

- “I love you too shanks.”

- his face lit up again, and he pressed his lips to yours, holding the back of your neck softly with his rough hand

- “You were hurting my feelings for a second.”

- “It would’ve hurt more than when my arm got bitten off.” 💀

- The amount of times Luffy says “I love you” throughout the day is sometimes amazing

- when you get up in the morning, “I love you y/n!”

- breakfast: love you!! (Gimme your food)

- randomly walking in on him taking a shit: oh hi y/n! I love youuuuu!

- yeah you get the point 😭

- and you never fail to always tell him that you love him too

- except for today, you thought it’d be funny to see how he reacted

- it was time to go to the town with Nami and Robin, and of course, luffy wanted to go with you guys

- “Luffy- just stay on the ship this time! I’ll bring you some meat back, k?”

- “Ok- fine.. Love you y/n!”

- he always gives you little kisses on both of your cheeks before you go (pls help I’m sobbing 😭💜)

- “Bye Lu :)”

- Even robin was a bit shocked, you didn’t say it back

- hell, zoro even opened his other eye and sanji lifted his bangs up to look at you

- you started walking, and Nami was concerned, did something happen between the two of you???

- “Luffy.. Did you do something bad?” Usopp asked with a wince, whispering in his ear

- Luffy looked angry, but sad, but hungry, but confused

- “Y/NNNNN! Why didn’t you say it back?!”

- You looked back with fake confusion on your face, “I said I love you!” -Luffy

- “I know!! I Heard you! Bye!”

- man sprinted over to you and shook you by the shoulders, smothering you with hugs and kisses

- “SAY IT BACK!”

- You were getting dizzy, so you gave up, “Ok ok! It was a joke calm down- I love you Luffy.”

- he laughed, “Shishishi~ love you too! Please bring back a lot of meat!”

- lesson learned, you never did that again

- ace is the perfect definition of a golden retriever boyfriend

- he needs constant love and affection, and when he doesn’t get it, he kind of melts down in a sense (I JUST REALIZED THATS KIND OF A JOKE)

- “Y/n! Be careful please k? Love you.” He said, pecking your cheek before you nodded with a smile, waving goodbye to him

- Was he going insane? You said that you loved him back right?

- “Hey pops- did y/n say they loved me back?”

- “…”

- Marco was desperately trying to tell Whitebeard to just say that you did so ace wouldn’t go into overthinking panic mode, but the poor guy didn’t seem to understand the frantic hand motions

- “Uh. No?”

- “POPS.” -Marco

- ace started to panic, what did he do today?!

- you both woke up at 2pm, cuddled for another hour, ate food together.. He fell asleep on your lap.. he was writing a letter to Luffy.

- wait. he was writing a letter to Luffy.. AND MAYBE YOU THOUGHT IT WAS TO SOMEONE ELSE?!

- he sprinted after you, tripping over every single rock in his path, pebbles and all

- he skidded in front of you, panting, “Y/n! I promise I was writing a letter to Luffy, not anyone else! I only love you ok? Please believe me- I’m sorry for not telling you!”

- you were concerned and felt bad that your little prank spiraled down into this-

- “Ace it was a little joke- I wanted to see how you reacted. I’m sorry baby- I love you so much k?”

- you ended up taking him shopping with you, and you had a 6ft tall fire golden retriever running around and grabbing things he through reminded him of you 🥺🥺

- sabo was about to head off to report to dragon, and he was giving you a hug and soft kisses before he left

- “I love you y/n, I’ll be back soon.” He said softly, moving your hair behind your ear

- “Ok, good luck sabo, i know you’ll do great!”

- he was a bit taken aback because he could’ve sworn that you didn’t… Say that you loved him back?

- he waved goodbye with the same expression written on his face the entirety of his walk to Dragon’s office

- “Sabo? You ok?” -koala

- He just started crying, and Koala had to bring tissues to try and calm him down

- he was fanning his face, his eyes puffy and his nose punk from wiping the snot away so many times

- “I don’t know- *sniffle* what I did! Y/n didn’t say “i love you” back to me- *sniffle*”

- pls he’s sobbing rn

- “Koala have you seen Sabo-?” -dragon

- dragon had never left the room so fast (he left faster than when he left Luffy)

- man forgot about the whole meeting- he’s never seen Sabo cry like this before! What the hell did you do??

- “Sabo- im sure y/n loves you! Maybe they just forgot or didn’t hear you?”

- you ended up following the sounds of muffled sobs and had to comfort your poor boyfriend for about 20 minutes before he stopped crying

- “I’m sorry Sabo- I didn’t mean to make you feel bad! It was just a joke.. I love you so much ok?”

- *sniffle* “Now everyone saw me crying- this is embarrassing.”

- he’s now just nuzzling into your chest for comfort, and you decided to never do this prank again because god this was painful

- seeing him cry like that hurt your soul 😭

a/n - tagging @figgydooo bec I saw your ask 💜💜

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woongisi · 1 year ago

Text

Brand New God // Choi Jongho

sub!Choi Jongho x dom!fem!reader // SMUT

WC// 3.2k

Synopsis// Jongho was the perfect son in the eyes of the church. It was your mission to change that. Opportunity comes once he consumes you with a particularly sinful confession.

Warnings// blasphemy, corruption, angst for a bit, oral (male receiving), no protection (pls use it even for oral), improper use of confessional booths, dacryphilia if you squint

Author's Note// This has been a long time in the making. Hope my other religious trauma mfs enjoy it as much as I do. Title is an iDKHOW reference. ☺︎♡

---------

Jongho wasn't the preacher's son, but he may as well have been. Never late to mass, always helping the elders, scolding the children, the whole lot of it. Sung in the choir. Formerly an altar boy. The envy of every parent's eye.

He was always excited to see you even if he had to preface his greeting by asking why you missed mass yet again. Despite his general duties and all he was never much of an extrovert. You always felt the air of awkwardness that hung around him when he approached you. If anything gave away that he was happy to see you… it was his glossy eyes and trembling smile that he tried so hard to suppress.

Being the son every parent wanted had its perks but many downfalls in the end. Most of the other people your age had largely abandoned the strictness of their faiths. Many still kept their beliefs but no longer felt such pressure to be perfect. In turn, they tended to find Jongho annoying.

You, however? Something about him was cute. Just how nervous he was to speak to you. The deep blush that he tried to hide whenever he told you that you looked pretty. You told yourself you only really went to church out of obligation, but now you'd begun to think you were there for him more than anything. You knew he was perfect. You knew almost for a fact that he'd never touched anyone else or even himself. You'd love to ruin him but at the same time you'd accepted you'd never get to.

Right?

Something about today was different. Jongho's face was red the second he saw you, red before he'd so much as stood up to greet you.

“Miss! You look pretty as always.” He piped up and almost immediately turned to skitter away. Only stopping once you grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

“Thank you, Jongho. Always the gentleman. You look quite handsome today yourself.” You smiled and ruffled his hair a bit. “You seem nervous. Are you alright? Are you sick?”

“N-no I’m ok!” Jongho avoided your gaze like his life depended on it. “Lying is a sin, Jongho, lying is a sin.” He whispered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Ok, look! Can… Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

Jongho swore he'd just passed on. There was no way. No girl his age had ever called him that before… only the little old ladies.

“You- What- Ok, ok come on just follow me, alright?”

Jongho led you back to the confession booths. They were somewhat secluded, given the nature of their use. Standing with your back pressed against the wall, Jongho couldn't even hold eye contact as he stood sheepishly in front of you.

“I- Last night-” Jongho huffed and hid his face. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” You smirked. “I'm not here to judge. It's just kinda cute seeing you so nervous.”

“Cute…? Anyway! Gosh! Last night I…” One glance at the low hem of your shirt had shut him down. “Never mind. It's ok! I don't wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Get in the goddamn booth.”

“W-What? First, don't use the Lord’s name in vain. Second… what?”

“Just pretend I'm the priest, k? You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Jongho?”

“This feels wrong, but… fine.”

Jongho sat in the booth and closed the curtains with trembling hands. He'd sat in this exact spot so many times and confessed to so many little sins. Little white lies, things that weren't even necessarily sins that he simply felt guilt for. This time he couldn't shake the anxiety.

Situated on the other half, you slid the small wooden door to the side to reveal the rectangular screen that kept you both apart.

“Right. Now tell me what's got you so bothered?”

Shame devoured Jongho from head to toe. He couldn't even believe he was sitting here letting you play priest. Why the hell was he doing this? Couldn't he just tell the actual priest when it was time for confession?

“Well, last night I had a dream.”

His voice has gotten low. You could tell he was trying hard not to stutter and could almost picture his eyebrows furrowed as he picked at his nails.

“I had a dream about a girl.”

“Mhm? What's odd about that?”

“She…” Jongho sighed. “She was touching me.”

“Like a hug?” You caught on to the fact it wasn't anything innocent in an instant but took any chance you could to hear Jongho confess. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience after all.

“N-No. She was on her knees, she was dragging her nails along my thighs.”

“Ah, those thick thighs of yours? I see.”

Jongho chose to ignore that charged comment.

“She leaned down and put her mouth on my- uh- privates. And… why am I telling you this?!”

“Just relax. Let it out.”

“Ok…” The memories from the night before raced through the boy's brain. He felt like he might faint. “She bobbed her head up and down. Told me I looked handsome. Looked up at me with those shining eyes… didn't stop until I… you know.”

Jongho had slumped against the backboard of the booth, evident by the creaking. His hands nervously fidgeted with the hem of his striped wool sweater.

“She was just so beautiful, y/n… she looked like a dream.” A moment’s silence. “I mean I guess she was a dream. I just feel so filthy. I've never had a dream about that. I've never thought about someone like that. I've never even-”

You cut his rambling off. “Kissed someone? Touched yourself?”

“Both of those…” he murmured. “The worst thing about the dream is that we weren't married.”

“Jongho?”

“Yeah?”

“Was this girl me?”

“Yeah…” Jongho’s head hit the wall with a light thud.

The next thing he heard was shuffling, the cracks of old wood, and the curtain being shoved to the side.

“W-wait! I'm sorry… just… don't go.” He shot to sit straight up. “Forget what I said. Please, you're my only real friend.”

You swore you heard his voice crack at the end.

“The others our age aren't kind to me. I pretend it doesn't bother me and remember the Lord has a plan for me, but… you can only take so long of being surrounded by old people and little kids before you start to wonder what's wrong with you.”

He was undoubtedly crying now.

“You're probably already gone. Great job, Jongho, you ruined the only thing you had. Loser.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. Unbelievable. He was what the kids wanted to grow up to be like, yet he had such a low opinion of himself?

He about jumped out of his skin once you pulled his curtain away just enough to look in at him. Though it hurt to see him like this, he did look gorgeous. His full cheeks were a rosy pink, his lashes clumped together by the big wet tears that rolled down his face. You hated how it turned you on. Just a bit.

“Y-you didn't leave?”

“Oh, Jongho…” You pouted and extended your hand out to him. “No, I wouldn't leave without a word. I wouldn't leave, period.”

When he took your hand into his you could tell his body was shaking. Though he moved to stand up, it didn't last long before he was dropped on his knees, hand still on yours. You found yourself following shortly behind.

Jongho was properly sobbing in every regard, chest heaving, his mouth babbling nonsense to beg you for forgiveness. You shook away his hand and knelt to one knee. Placing a hand upon his shoulder was the only act it took for his arms to reach around your waist and pull himself against you, his face buried in your neck, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt like you were going to disappear.

“Jongho…”, You rubbed circles on his back. “Come on. Look at me.”

Jongho obliged with hesitation, still avoiding looking into your eyes. You, of course, followed his eyes.

“I'm no prude. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I didn't know you felt so alone, but, honestly… words aren't enough right now.”

You leaned in and placed a kiss on Jongho’s cheek. It was salty, but his skin was smooth against your lips. He flinched in shock but once you pulled away, he found himself wanting more.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Wait. Can you do that again? Please… this time on my-”

You didn't let him finish his sentence before swooping back in and taking his lips into your own. He gasped so sweetly into your mouth, he tasted like honey and hints of sweetened coffee. Undoubtedly his breakfast.

“Follow my lead, okay?” Jongho was quick to agree.

Based on watching him suck on his bottom lip when he was nervous, you'd figured they'd be soft. They were pillowy, warm, and tasted like vanilla chapstick. His large hand had a death grip on your wrist and you could tell he was riddled with anxiety.

“Jongho, fuck. You taste so good.” You sighed deeply back into the kiss. Jongho's returned advances were shy but undoubtedly needy. The kiss was broken only long enough for you to take his ear lobe gently in your mouth, exercising care not to catch on his studded earring.

Jongho flinched and whined before melting into your touch once more. His mind felt hazy, sluggish, but oh so happy. He’d never dreamed of feeling this way. He didn’t expect to feel any kind of sexual gratification until he was married… whenever that may have been. The guilt he felt for letting you go at his neck in the middle of his lifelong church was immense, but part of him found it unbelievably hot.

“Mmh, please,” Jongho’s hand rested on the back of your head. “Don’t stop.”

“You can touch me, honey.” You smirked and shimmied your jacket off your shoulders. “Wherever you want. I’m yours to explore.”

Jongho was nothing short of eager, with his hands starting to roam the shape of your body. Every stripe you licked down his neck and every sloppy kiss brought forth unholy noises from his throat. His warmly tinted skin blossomed in shades of purple and blue with your manipulation. You’d just have to give him some of your concealer.

“Jongho?”

“Yes, dear? His head slumped forward with a pant.

“Your dream. Wanna make that a reality?”

“What? Isn’t that a-”

“Sin? Mhm. If you don’t sin a bit then Jesus died for nothing.” You giggled. “Besides, it can’t get much worse than what we’re doing already.”

Jongho thought for only a moment before whining and nodding eagerly.

You removed yourself from Jongho and leapt to your feet. “Ok, well we shouldn’t do that right here on the floor. Come on, get back in the booth.”

Jongho leaned back against the wooden wall with his hands bracing himself on the railing.

“Gonna unbutton those pants, alright?” As usual, Jongho was outfitted in slim-fitting black dress pants and a white button-up, complete with a black tie. He truly did look stunning even if you’d never be able to get him to accept it.

Jongho inhaled deeply, watching your every move as you dropped to your knees and fumbled with the clasp of his belt. Undoing it, you waited a moment to fully pull his pants down.

“You’re hard, Jongie~.” You cooed and rubbed the back of his thigh. “Have you ever been hard before?”

“Not outside the ones you get through puberty… or when you're scared for a presentation… well, not until that dream.” One hand brushed your hair out of your face.

“Oh? Sweet boy. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Soon enough, Jongho had shrugged his neatly ironed slacks to the floor. Your intuition told you he’d be big… But fuck. He really was. His boxers weren’t tight-fitting in any regard, but the tent formed in them was considerable.

“Oh hell, Jongho! Seriously?! This is what you’ve been keeping from the world all this time.” You groaned and fidgeted with the rim of one of the legs of his boxers. You glanced up long enough to catch his deep brown eyes staring down intently. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you a bit antsy to be under his gaze like this.

“I got you, ok?” Jongho hummed nervously at your words.

Your hand moved across the form of his dick just enough to give him an idea of what to expect from this. The way he jolted was enough to let you know he enjoyed it. You rubbed your hand over him with a flat palm and relished in the girth you could already tell he possessed underneath the fabric.

“You’re so fucking big, damn, did you even realize that?” Jongho shook his head feverishly.

“N-no… am I really?” Jongho felt his heart skip a beat, his hand hovering over you.

You could feel his presence over you and grabbed his hand, moved it to your hair, and gave it a reassuring pat. His fingers scratched at your scalp as if on instinct, soothing himself to the feeling. Every movement of your palm sent electric shocks up his spine.

Deciding it was due time for more, you inquired as to whether you could remove his boxers… met with an overwhelming agreeance. His cock sprung from under the confines of his underwear, causing him to wince at the newly cold air. His length was nothing to laugh at, you’d be a fool not to note the considerable circumference and upward curve as well. He was unshaven as you expected with curly black-brown hair over the expanse of his balls and above the base of his dick. He had a rather prominent happy trail which, fittingly, made you incredibly happy. He was circumcised with the skin around the head a shade lighter than the rest. The tip glistened with pre-cum in the dim light. Jongho squirmed under your watch.

“I-is something wrong? Do you not want to anymore…?”

“I… I’m kind of in shock honestly. Your dick is almost as pretty as you… almost.”

Jongho whined and gripped your hair lightly in response. Your free hand caressed the expanse of his firm thighs, the other encasing the head of his dick.

“A-ah, careful!” Jongho resisted the need to buck his hips against your touch. “I-I’m sensitive. Really.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, gathered a considerable amount of drool in the space of your cheeks, and let it run down onto him. The warm sensation melted the boy’s mind. You gave him a few languid strokes to spread the makeshift lube along the length of his shaft. Using three fingers, you rubbed a deliberate line up the prominent vein situated on the underside of his cock. Jongho’s labored breathing filled the confined space with need.

“Such a pretty thing, you are.” You purred and left a quick peck just below Jongho’s navel. “Such a needy boy.” Your movements matched up with your strokes and fondles.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry about replying, babe. Just listen to me.”

Jongho stroked your cheek with trembling hands. “You’re so beautiful.” His words almost carried a pout and made your heart melt. They felt sincere. Like you could trust them. He meant it outside the heat of the moment.

You met Jongho’s gaze tenderly. “So, you meant it all those times, didn’t you? All the times you greeted me before mass?”

Jongho’s voice was velvety smooth in his response. “Of course I did. Even besides lying being a sin… I’ve always thought so from the first time I saw you. Always…”

“Oh, Jongho… Jongho by the time I’m done with you, you’re only going to want to worship to me.”

Feeling you’d worked him up enough by now, you took his cock into your mouth, giving him time to adjust to the new feeling. You hollowed your cheeks and sunk your head further down around him, embracing the struggle once his length hit the back of your throat. Your gag panicked Jongho, urging him to nervously make sure you’re okay. You lent him a reassuring rub to his thigh, taking his cock back into your mouth with a hum.

Jongho’s grip on your hair tightened in congruence with his loudening moans. He felt as if he might die. He felt he might’ve already died because could heaven be any better than his current situation? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Feels so good, y/n, so good.” Jongho’s voice broke toward the end of his statement. You took into consideration how he wasn't used to this, planning every ministration carefully to ensure he enjoyed each moment that he lasted.

Introducing a hand to the mix, you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. This gave you a bit of stability in leverage so that you could swirl your tongue all over. Around the tip, tease the slit of his head, gently over the thin band of skin below it. You pulled back from his cock with a pop to catch your breath.

“Doing ok, Jongho?” You sighed and rested your cheek against his thigh for a moment.

His head was thrown back to rest against the wood of the booth, forehead damp with sweat. He granted you a thumbs up which you found incredibly in character.

“Cum whenever you're ready, alright? Just let me know.” You lowered yourself down a bit further in order to take one of his balls into your mouth. With one hand twisting and tugging at his cock, you knew he wouldn't take much longer to bust. It seemed you were right, whimpers filling the space around the two of you.

“Close-” Jongho groaned and desperately reached for your hand that was grasping at his toned thighs. You accept his advance, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing reassuringly. His nails digging into the skin of your hand and his breath fully catching in his throat was the last sign you needed.

Swiftly, your mouth sank back around Jongho just in time for his climax. White hot cum coated the inside of your mouth, plenty of it, that had undoubtedly been waiting since his dream. You wondered briefly how uncomfortable it was for his balls to have been so full. Once Jongho came back down to reality enough, the gravity of what you'd done set in on him.

“You… you swallowed it?!” He gasped, shocked that was even a possibility.

“Mm,” You popped off of his length and shook your head. Opening your mouth wide so he could see his load pooling on your tongue, you made a show of swallowing every last drop. “Now I did.”

After a moment of silence Jongho cocked his head to the side. “Does it, uh, taste good?”

“Only because it's yours.”

Helping Jongho clean up with tissues you kept in your purse, you let him buckle his belt and help you to your feet.

“Don't you want anything in return?”

“Only for you to be mine and only mine.”

“O-Oh, I can do that. But what about your…?”

“Let's wait ‘til mass actually ends. They're gonna wonder where we've been. Come on, Jjongie.”

Anticipation shivered up his spine, taking your hand into his own to lead you to the doorway that opened to the main hall of the church.

Jongho took the initiative to kiss you tenderly. “I'll make up some excuse on the spot.”

“Deal.”

#jongho smut #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #ateez jongho smut #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #jongho imagines #jongho fic #jongho fanfic #ateez scenarios #[jo fucks ateez 🏴‍☠️]

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

ribbons release

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: happiness for once. until it is not. ronnie's love for foreshadowing strikes again.

an: not a fan of this chapter, but we digress. read it and do not kill me if you don't like it.

song: not explicitly mentioned, but this chapter reminds me of about you by the 1975. ratty healy, I hate you but you ate on this one thing.

previous part linked here

“I ju-just sent my loc-location, Eren.”

“I got it, Y/N. I just need you to hold on for ten more minutes, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.”

Seattle is famous for rain. You understand that all too well now. After what you’ve counted as twenty-seven minutes - from when you went to take the trash out to the mailpost you’re hiding behind now - you’re all but soaked. Drenched.

Your phone is blowing up with texts, the rain is only getting harder, and the mini black dress and ribbon in your hair do no favors to keep you warm. You slide out of your call with Eren and quickly scan through the messages, buzzing so loud they’re blocking Eren’s voice.

reiner: so, so proud of you always!!! stop being a big famous pop star and go back to being the little twerp who needs my help killing spiders on set :/

levi: I love you too, kid. And on a real listen, we really do love the album.

armin: ann and i are smelling a triple threat on the horizon. love you to the moon and saturn <3

connie: i was accidentally pooping while i listened to dorothea for the first time and i think the combination of those two things at once gave me like a really visceral reaction. im not ok. u are amazing.

mikasa: u are givg me aneurysm. pls don’t forgor to call me the scnd ur okay.

erwin: Call me ASAP.

erwin: Not urgent. Just feeling emotional about my little Canadian reaching hearts all over the world.

king of bitches (maybe: ryomen sukuna): Fluff shit indeed. Blow me a kiss when you beat James for Album of the Year.

danny: where is the album release post? it’s almost been half an hour.

You have bigger problems at the moment. Like the frozen piece of fabric you’re wearing. You should have named the album sweaters or scarves or something. Then at least you’d be warm. And blend in with the paparazzi.

Fuck.

“W-wait, Eren. Y-you ca-n’t b-be the one to get me.” you murmur, shivering through your teeth.

“Do you want to stay with someone else? I know nice people here. My neighbor is in her late forties and has like two middle school aged girls that are really nice. They’d take care of you, I promise you can trust them and-” he rambles.

“N-no. I want to st-stay with you. But pa-papara-zzi. S-send ss-omeone e-else.”

“Paparazzi? Why are-?”

“Er-eren.”

“Would it be that bad if it was me? Like it has to be someone else, Y/N?”

“Y-yes.”

“I have someone in mind. She’s leaving right now, okay?”

Eren’s sound is muffled over the line now, which has you digging your phone into your ear to catch the ends of what he’s saying.

Blast the heater….butt warmer on before she’s in the car….bring it up and I will kick your freeloading….

“Y/N?”

“H-here.”

“Good. I’m sending her. Don't get upset, this is the best I could do, okay? I-I promise she’s actually nice. You can trust her and-and I’d never send someone who would do something bad.”

“O-okay. I t-trust you. J-just get me ou-out of th-this, please.” you whimper, praying to god the rustling behind you is a rabbit and not the group of them finding you.

“I’m trying sweetheart, okay? She’s speeding. She’s on Main and Third, three lights and she’s there.”

That’s when you see it. The flash of the camera. And hear five consecutive clicks right after. You look around the periphery, before you see two of them, two tall guys speed walking closer to where you’re hiding.

So you do the only thing you can. Stand up and run instead.

You scramble up off the pavement, hiking your dress down, and keep running down the block. Climb up the gates, knock over trash cans to block the way, anything to stop them. And when you look back, after who knows how long, you realize they’re gone.

And sit flat on the messy pavement, finally lifting the phone back up. Only to realize Eren’s no longer on the line because your phone is dead. You drop it straight into your lap and dig your hands into your head, covering your ears to stop the pounding sound of the rain from getting any louder.

God. Just breathe. Whoever is coming to get you is on the way. They’ll come get you and then you’ll be out of this mess.

You hear three resounding clicks and a flash of a light to look up at two different paps, two girls this time, getting a straight on picture of you. And all you can do is put your head down in your lap and cry.

They already got the picture. There’s no point in trying to run out of it anymore.

“Y/N.”

“Pl-please. I’m b-begging you. You already got your picture and can ss-spin it into whatever you want. I-I’m still a person, please. Just let me go.” you respond, the tears blinding your sight of vision.

You feel a towel being wrapped around your shoulders and soft hands lifting you up by your arms. And then all of a sudden you’re in a warm car, being sped out of the neighborhood past the groups of paparazzi in between the houses, and not directly across from them having your picture taken.

You’re in a car. You’re okay. You’re leaving. You’re okay.

You lean back and breathe hard, phantom sobs still racking out of your chest, trying to register that you’re almost there. Safe behind closed, triple locked doors.

“D-did you tell Eren?”

“Yes. He’s not far, we’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. T-thank you. I’m Y/N.”

“Lana.”

You turn your head to actually take in the driver this time, to be met with the Lana you feared. Ricky’s ex-girlfriend, Lana. She has short brown hair - entirely different from her long, beachy waves from the Girlfriend incident - a pointed nose and a very clenched jaw.

“Th-there are more blankets on the floor. I pumped the heater pretty hard, but I’ll turn all the fans your way. And anything you could possibly need is being rushed to the house for you, so just don’t worry, okay?”

“I appreciate it. Thank you for coming to get me. I-I”

“Please don’t thank me. I just-”

She takes a harsh intake of breath and turns to give you a look, her mouth upturned.

“He locked you out, didn’t he?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” you respond.

“What did you do?”

“I told him I didn’t like him back.”

She turns her head towards you, a look of confusion on her face.

“It was a PR thing.”

She snorts.

“Your managers must hate you.”

“I’m starting to think they just might.”

“Well. Don’t feel bad. Not for a fucking second. Just because he likes you, doesn’t mean he’s entitled to you reciprocating back. You like who you like. And if I were you, I wouldn’t stop liking a guy like Eren for a skeeze like Ricky either.”

You lean against the glass, hot air blowing in your face, as you take in her expression - so enraged, so exasperated, so furious that it gives you a chill. But when she looks over and gives you a halfhearted smile, you see the pained expression there too.

That’s when you pinpoint it. Lana reminds you of Historia.

“I’m sorry.” you respond.

“For?”

“You knew he locked me out. He must have done it to you too, no?” you whisper, the tension in the air delicate.

She swallows hard and clenches her knuckles on the steering wheel, eyes laser focused on the red light shining on her face. And beyond the original striking features - her sharp jaw and nose - you see the softness too. The dimples, the wrinkles near her eyes, the light brown freckles.

“I wanted to take time off from acting. It-I did a role that was really traumatic and I just needed a break. And he was just about to go on tour and he wanted me to come to support. Like a little cheerleader.”

“So he locked you out?”

“For two days. He-he’s just. A lot of the fame stuff got to him when he was really little. And now he’s got this convoluted sense of self-image and it just- I don’t know. He’s got problems.” she responds.

“I’m sorry. Really, that’s-”

You stop talking, words failing you. And maybe it’s the way your head was frozen ten minutes ago and it’s being melted now, or that the picture they took is going to leak soon, or that there is no good thing to say to something shitty like this. It only took him three months to turn on you, which you’re guessing is generous now. She must have infinite patience for putting up with it for an entire year.

“In a weird way, I’m glad it’s me and not Eren. You- this does something for me. Making sure you’re not out there for two days, it-it helps me.” she whispers, looking over to give you a smile.

“I really appreciate you, Lana. Thank you. And I-I’m not mad at you for the Girlfriend thing. You had every right to do that.”

“Y/N. I have every right to drag Ricky James’ name through the mud. But not yours. And I- shit. Please don’t tell Eren we talked about this. He’s going to kill me.”

“Why?”

“He told me that if I brought it up, he’d kick me out of his house. I kind of stay there because I-I hate living in our townhouse on set because of how toxic it is and he was nice enough to offer. And he made it very clear that I have to pick you and make sure you’re okay, not make you uncomfortable or anything. We’re here to take care of you and-”

“I brought it up. I’ll deal with him if he gives you a hard time. I used to be really good at that type of thing.”

“I know for a fact that you could tell him to twirl in the air like a show pony and he’d do it.”

“I’ll test the theory and let you know.”

She laughs, giving you a smile which you warmly return. Your phone buzzes in your lap, finally revived, and you send a quick message to Mikasa and Jean before shutting it off.

“I-I didn’t know that it was going to go that far. I knew the song and that we were just going to sing it. Let people speculate it was about you. I-I didn’t know they’d have a girl who looked like you OR bring Eren up on stage. And Eren didn’t know anything about the song or the performance at all - they, they set him up.”

“Why would they do that? I mean, they got horrible backlash in the entire thing.”

“They thought people would like it. And they severely underestimated how much people love you. And they did it because, Eren- he. He doesn’t follow rules and-”

“Follow rules?”

“I’m saying too much. He-he’s going to get mad. Ju-just rest, okay? You’re okay now, we’re two minutes from the neighborhood..”

You give her a questioning look, which she returns with a dismissive shake. Stubborn - she’s Historia alright. You lean back in the chair and reach for the music nob, twisting it on. Only to be met with the Teletubbies Theme blasting through the car and a very flustered Lana turning the knob off.

“Fuck.”

“Teletubbies?”

“I-I can explain.”

“Please. I’d love to hear it.”

She drums her fingers on the steering wheel as the silence hangs in the air.

“Okay. Maybe I can’t explain.”

“No need. I appreciate versatile music taste in prospective friends. Especially classics like this.” you respond, cranking the music back on.

“Friends?”

“Don’t be silly. Not exaggerating, but I think you quite literally saved my life a few minutes ago. You’re like the La-La to my Dipsy.”

“Lame. You’re more of a Tinky-Winky. And anytime. We girls stick together, right?” she responds, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. Like Eren.

Did she learn the hand squeezes from Eren? Is he squeezing her hands? They live together so …are they dating?

“We’re here.”

You nod, appreciative of Lana more than maybe any person on god's green Earth, as she pulls into the driveway and helps you out of the car. It’s only after sitting that you’re realizing your legs are so bone dead tired that you’re barely moving on your own.

You move past the hood of the car as Eren walks into the garage, immediately beelining towards you. His hair is long again - it’s always changing every time you see him - and he’s all wound up with tensions sitting in his shoulders. His hands are warm and cupping your face, yanking the cold towel off and replacing it with a warm one.

“Hey. You-you nicked your face, Y/N. And you’re freezing, you-” he whispers, brushing his fingers across the skin near your eye that stings on touch.

Lana holds the door open as he leads you in, arms aggressively moving up and down your shoulders and his face all pinched up in concern.

“You’re good to go? I put your stuff out by the door.” Eren says, gesturing to Lana.

“Is she leaving?” you ask, looking up at Eren.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’ll be just us. And I’m sure Mika and Jean will drop everything to fly out for you tomorrow, I can tell them if you need me to and-”

“Well, don’t make her leave. She shouldn’t stay on that stupid set just because of me.” you respond.

Eren looks over and glares at Lana, who is now wide eyed and giving Eren a sheepish smile. Fuck. He asked her not to talk about that.

“Lana.” he says, in a warning tone.

“Eren. Chill out. I didn’t even-”

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that? You- she got drenched and the rain and you were talking about set?”

“It’s not like that! It just came up and-”

“Oh, for sure. You just happened upon it like you were a villager walking in a town square. Ooh Y/N. You just got drenched in the rain and chased by paparazzi, but more importantly, the girls I work with are super bitchy.” he responds, mimicking her voice.

“You-it wasn’t like that! You’re so aggravat-”

“Eren. Leave her alone.” you ask, looking up at him. And you’re sure you must look horrible because he immediately stops when he looks at your face again and signals for her to leave, which she’s receptive to.

“Okay. Lana, text me when you’re there. And check if you were followed on your way out.” Eren says.

Lana stops and holds both of your arms at your biceps, hands soft on your skin.

“Do call me if you need anything, okay? Especially Ricky related. Whatever you do, I’ll back you up, Tinky-Winky. ”

“Thank you, La-La. I’ll take you up on that.” you respond, giving her a warm smile.

“Oh god. No. No, you don’t get to be friends now. Fuck no, Lana. Please stick to the geriatric grandmas you play Scrabble with.”

“You’re just mad they beat you at mahjong last week. Because you’re a prissy loser.”

“And you’re-”

You jab Eren in the side, signaling him to stop, as they both nod and she slides her way out. From the way he’s arguing, the look on his face is so similar to the one he gives Connie when they argue, you know they could go on for years if they got the chance.

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“Eat shit, Lana.”

She flips him off as the door clicks shut behind her, the lack of her presence making you suddenly aware of your breaths. And of Eren, warm Eren rubbing into your shoulders and concerned green eyes staring into yours.

“I like her.” you whisper.

“Me too. Don’t tell her that though, she’s got an ego problem.” he responds.

You laugh, which has him smiling at you, and suddenly you’re sobbing. And on cue, Eren has his arms around you, his touch warm and his voice oh so soft that it kills you. That you haven’t seen him in two months. And haven’t talked to him for longer.

“Eren.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, it-it’ll be okay. I- we’ll fix this, okay? I’ll call Levi and Hange, whoever you want, they’ll all come and-”

You reach up, tangling your arms around his neck as he keeps nervously talking, trying to hold you closer even though it’s not physically possible. And he’s just so-

So familiar that he feels like home.

“You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N. Please stop crying, I-I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs, straight into your skin as you nod, trying your best to even out the sobs still leaving you. And slowly but surely, the stream slows and your breath evens out enough to get at least a few words out.

“Okay. Okay, okay. I’m okay.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“As much as I like holding you, you’re freezing. Take a shower first and we can do this all you want, okay?”

You pull back, wiping the tears off your cheeks and giving him a nod. He gives you a small smile, before placing his hands on your shoulders and leading you down towards the bathroom. And you don’t miss all the posters and pictures he has on his walls - one from each season of Attack of Titan, a few of him and Armin, and even one of him and Lana flipping off the camera together.

He pushes you into the bathroom and immediately turns on the shower all the way to the hottest setting, before turning around and putting his hands on his hips.

“Towels, clothes, shampoo. There’s soap in there already and take as long as you want. Sit in here for three days if you have to just- do-do whatever you have to do and-”

You pick up the bottle of shampoo, the lavender scented Pantene, the one that you’ve been using since you were fifteen. And you know, you know that Eren’s atrocious ass uses a three in one hair and conditioner so it’s not his.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Did you just happen to have the brand of shampoo that I use?”

“N-no. Those are Lana’s.”

“Then why are they unopened?” you ask, giving him a smirk.

He glares at you, before rolling his eyes and holding your face. And now he’s leaning so close, so close that your lips are only a few feet away from yours, when he talks.

“You know why you can’t make fun of me for keeping a spare of your shampoos in my house?” he whispers, green eyes burning in yours.

“Why?” you whisper back, stomach lurching.

“Because you’re actually here. I knew you’d come back to me.” he responds, giving your cheek a pinch before walking out.

And when you watch him walk out, giving you one last smile before he shuts the door, you can’t help but roll your eyes. Typical Eren. Funny, irritating, and soft all in one.

He’s the same as you left him.

You pad out of the shower, Eren’s hoodie and sweatpants ridiculously huge on you, as you follow the sweet smell into the kitchen. Eren is leaned over the counter, sliding vegetables into two bowls of ramen as you walk in.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Took a while. Thought you died in there.” Eren responds, pressing his hands to your skin to test how warm they were.

“I almost wish I did.” you respond, laughing.

Except Eren doesn’t find it funny and instead he’s dropping the utensils and standing at your side.

“Y/N.”

“I was joking!”

“Nothing about that was funny. Don’t ever joke about that.” he responds, rummaging through the drawers at your side before pulling out a little tube of gel.

Eren taps the top of the counter, which you jump onto, before he takes his place in between your legs. His hands are focused on reading the instructions, forehead all scrunched up in concentration.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like this…scar ointment or whatever. Helps things heal better, I want to use it on that cut on your pretty face.” he responds, twisting it open and squirting some on his finger.

He brings his hands to your face, eyes intently focused on your cheek. You hiss the second his finger makes contact with your skin, the tingling sensation catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it hurts.” he whispers, smothering the cold gel down the side of your eye.

“I-I fell on the pavement. My knees are pretty bad too, Eren.” you whisper, which he nods at.

After he finishes, he’s carefully sliding the ends of your pants off and carefully placing the ointment on each of the jagged marks on your legs. And you eye the bowls of ramen at your side - knowing instantly that the one without mushrooms is yours - and reach for the food. The broth is so warm it soothes the aching feeling in your throat, still seasoned to perfection the way Eren always makes it.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Lana dating?”

He looks up from your leg and gives you a devilish smirk. And then starts laughing. Like full on, crouched over, tears from his eyes laughing.

“Okay. It wasn’t that funny.” you murmur, rubbing your hands against the warm bowl and frowning.

“Oh god, Y/N. Jesus-”

“It’s a normal question! She lives with you, you trusted her to come get me, and you guys have a picture together in the hallway.”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, standing up and leaning straight into your space.

“Absolutely not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“You don’t need to get all embarrassed. Watching you kiss Ricky James made me want to break something, preferably his neck.”

You swallow hard at the mention of Ricky again, the thought of him and what happened was so far away because you were with Eren. In his space, in your shared bubble, after so long. And he catches on too fast because he’s already profusely apologizing.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to bring him up, I-I’m not trying to push you into telling me what happened it’s just-”

“No. No, Eren. It’s okay. I know. I-”

You breathe in hard and put the bowl of ramen down and reach for his hands instead. You keep your eyes focused on them - on the little mole on his left hand, the feeling of his knuckles underneath your fingers, and on him squeezing your hands three times before you start talking.

“Ricky and I were faking the relationship for PR. Since London Boy and all that, it was Danny and Sareen’s idea. That-that’s why I stopped talking to you, I-I felt bad. And I was ashamed that I was even doing it, I-I don’t know. The Little Women press and all that, it would just get people to stream and talk. Make me a triple threat. And then today, I- He told me he liked me. And I said I couldn’t do that right now. That I don’t like him back. I went to take out the trash because it was so awkward and then I was going to go home but he- he locked me out. And when I asked to come back in, he repeated the same words to me. That he couldn’t do that right now.”

Eren lifts your hands, still locked with his, and presses a kiss to the top of your knuckles, as you continue. His lips burn your skin, still.

“I was out there and it-it was cold. And then I heard the cars and I saw seven paparazzi trucks, right on the porch. Ricky, his address isn’t leaked. No-no one knew I was there or that he was but they all showed up, right when I was out there and-”

“He called them, didn’t he?” Eren asks, his tone so harsh, so unyielding that it almost doesn’t sound like him.

“Yeah. And I ran, for so long. I- they got a picture. A few, I know they did and I was just so, so scared that I was going to be out there forever, that I was all alone and they were just going to-”

Eren reaches forward, wrapping you in his arms for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight, but you welcome it. Focus on his heart beating under your ear, running your fingers over his fish tattoo on his bicep, and on his soft, steady breaths.

“Eren.”

“Hm.”

“You didn’t say anything. What are you thinking about?”

“What I’m thinking isn’t productive for you to know right now.”

You look up at him, giving him a questioning look.

“Drop it, Y/N.”

“No. Tell me. I’m sure you’re mad and all but-”

“Mad? I’m fucking furious, I’m livid. That he fucking locked you out and left you in the cold. You-you could have been seriously hurt. You are hurt. And not only that, the fucking paparazzi. You-you ran in the cold, you fell, you can’t stop crying and-and- I’m going to kill this asshole when I see him next because it’s his fault you’re feeling like this.”

“Eren.”

“No. Shut up, Y/N. I’m being serious. I-I don’t like seeing you like this and don’t tell me not to. He hurt you. It’s that simple.”

You deflate, knowing Eren too well to know that he won’t drop this. Especially when he’s overly passionate, deep in the feeling right now.

“Okay. But can you just be here for me right now? I need you here and not all….tense and mad. B-Be soft. And warm.”

He stops, the frustration in his forehead dissolving as he takes a breath and smiles at you. Not fully, but it does the job.

“Okay. I can do that. Let’s watch Fruits Basket. And then go to bed.”

“You hate Fruits Basket.”

“But I love you. Enough to watch your weird bestiality adjacent show and pretend to like it.”

You smile and he reaches forward to pinch your cheeks.

“Look at that smile. There she is. There’s my sweet girl.” he whispers, voice all tangled in his throat.

You wake up to an empty bed, Eren’s side cold. And you pull his hoodie on before padding downstairs to find Eren’s phone pressed to his ear. He gives you a wave and points to the plate - a mix of eggs, french toast, and fruits - perfectly placed to perfection.

You give him a smile and he walks off, taking the phone with him. You frown as you watch him disappear, jabbing your fork through the cantaloupe.

What is he talking about that’s so important he doesn’t want you to hear?

You jump off of the stool and quietly pad towards the direction he walked, hiding in the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, staring at the picture right across - one of Levi and Hange kissing your cheeks at the vow renewal - and angle yourself to hear his words.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m glad. You tell me if you need anything else, okay?”

“Okay, Coco. I missed you too, yeah?”

Who the fuck is Coco?

He hangs up and you immediately scramble back to the kitchen, trying your best to stay inconspicuous as he comes back and gives you a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, the expression on his face almost tired.

“Hey sleepyhead. You okay?”

“Mhm. Food is really good, Eren.”

He gives you a smile as he sits at your side, eyes focused on you as you eat your food. He places both of your phones in front of you, and you spot yours with nearly a hundred notifications. But when you reach for it, Eren grabs your hand in the air and locks it on his own instead.

“Just-wait. Eat first.” he says, his tone hollow.

You turn your head to the side and take in Eren’s expression, downtrodden and uncharacteristically unexpressive. The complete opposite of Eren yesterday - moony eyes and soft smiles.

“Eren.”

“Y/N. If I ask you to do this for me, can you trust me and listen?”

“No. You-what’s wrong? You’re being weird.” you ask, reaching for his hand.

He looks over, the look indiscernible, as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“You-I took care of most of it, okay? Levi and Hange are coming. Just, don’t panic. You-it’s okay.”

“Eren. You’re scaring me. Just tell me.”

He takes a deep breath, cracking the knuckles in your hand as he nervously talks.

“You-your pictures leaked. The ones of you running last night. And-and people started speculating really fast - wondering why you were running and crying on the night your album released instead of celebrating it. And-and then Ricky, he tweeted a bunch of things.”

You pale. And reach for your phone, which Eren stops again.

“They’re lies. Obviously. You don’t need to read them, not yet. And Lana told me she’s ready to back you up, whatever you want, when you need it. But, that’s not-”

“What, Eren? Just spit it out.” you respond, frantically.

“They- Ricky’s fans are mad at you. They’re sending you death threats.”

“Oh.”

You deflate, staring at the cold mess of breakfast on your plate. Death threats. Hate, you’re no stranger too. Of people commenting on your looks, how bad your singing is, how lame you are. But wishing you were dead? Full on, unbothered and cursing your existence?

“And not just you, but your family too.” he whispers, watching your face fall.

Your family. Your parents, Colt, Falco-

“Excuse me. What did you just say?

Eren doesn’t respond and the tears fall immediately from your eyes, hot and angry as he reaches forward, immediately swiping them away. His expression's pained, he knows this all too well.

“I sent your family a security detail. Don’t worry. Colt was only minorly injured and-”

You stand up and grab Eren’s shirt, bundling the fabric into a fist in your hands, as you glare at him.

“Injured? What the fuck do you mean injured, Eren?”

He sighs, lifting his hands to move yours, and hold them. You’re still clenching hard, so hard you’re sure you’re drawing blood, but he’s doing his best to uncurl your hands as he talks.

“They threw a brick through the window. And the glass, Colt was sitting right there. I was just on the phone with Falco, he said he’s doing better. The security detailing has medical so you don’t have to worry about that again and they’re both okay and-”

“No part of this is okay, Eren! Quit saying it’s okay when it’s not! They almost killed my brothers.”

“Y/N.”

“No. No, this is horrible, Eren. They-they don’t do any of this stuff. Falco’s barely thirteen. And Colt - he’s going to college. He’s not a celebrity, he’s not a singer, he’s just a student. How is he supposed to go out after this? Why- how is it supposed to be normal? And now, they’re going to be like us. They’re going to feel like they’re trapped in this fucking suffocating ass fish bowl and everyone’s watching and laughing at them and they just-”

“Y/N. Stop. It’s not going to-”

“Falco’s too soft for this. He’s just a kid, Eren. I can’t- no. This isn’t fair. Eren, they didn’t even do anything. They’re literally just related to me, they just love me and they’re getting hurt because of it. You- you’re probably getting dragged in the mud too. Everyone who helps me gets subjected to this, loving me comes with this big thing behind me and I can’t even keep people who get it with me. I let you go when you were the only person who understood and I messed it all up and got myself involved with Ricky James of all people and-”

“Y/N. Stop. Please."

You sit flat on Eren’s floor, head in your hands, and cry, teardrops falling straight onto the floor. And Eren’s sitting there with you, with your big mess of jumbled feelings and mistakes, and trying his best to help you with it.

That’s how Levi and Hange find you two, after pocketing the spare key Eren told them about. After he insistently called them and payed for a private jet, going on and on about how Y/N needed them. And here you two are, despite their original conceived notions that you two were fighting, on the floor, in each other’s arms.

“Some things never change, huh?” Hange whispers.

“Yeah. They keep fucking crying every time we see them.” he whispers back.

Between Levi and Hange - Jean, Mikasa, and Connie who make it out that night - and Eren and Lana, they fix things. Most things.

Ricky’s narrative about you is clear cut - half-true and half-fake. Your team forced him to date you and defend you for PR purposes, after the Girlfriend incident. There was an agreement that you two would write certain songs, make certain appearances, and support each other.

But then Ricky turns the gate. Says that you’ve deeply, severely hurt him. That you led him on, that you used him to boost your own ego, and that you were dangerously obsessed with fame and not him. That you were all things - heartless, fake, that he doubted if you were even a real person. A glorious pop-star, empty and hollow on the inside.

And people jump on it fast. Citing the fact that you would throw away your friendship with Historia to be famous, that you stopped dating Eren when he stopped being successful, that you can go to tours but not to Mikasa or Jean’s birthday parties.

The worst part? Ricky lied, but the things they pointed out were true. Every mistake you make is on display and that people make it a point to draw attention o it. That you really were in too deep, too deep into pleasing Sareen and Danny, and being a triple threat that you forgot that they were all there too.

Eren, especially. Sweet, sweet Eren who saved you, who held you when you needed him.

You look over at him and Lana, the two of them very aggressively debating how to use their last turn of their daily Wordle, and feel your heart deflate.

You dropped the ball. You’ll never make it up to him.

Lana, in her infinite kindness, has chosen to share her own story, as a corroboration for yours. That Ricky taunted, mocked, and harassed her the entire time they were dating. That you're anything but the things he says. Because she’s had enough and she’ll do it to help out her Tinky-Winky. (Much to Eren’s dismay, he hates that you’re both becoming closer as time goes on.)

And to complement the announcement, Lana asked for one thing. To go out in style. You wrote a song with her and promised her that she was going to be the lead actress in the music video. A girl rage moment, like The Man. Danny and Sareen approve the move, making no comments or concerns about anything else that happened, and ask to be involved when the time comes.

You sit on it for a few days. Till you’re ready. But where you are now - with these people - needs to stay for a little longer. Before you brace everything again.

“Yo.”

You smile, opening up space for Connie on the couch for you.

“Hi Con.”

“Deep in your thoughts there, princess. Thinking about how your album is about to go Multi-Platinum?”

“No. Just the entire thing.” you respond, frowning.

Connie rolls his eyes, reaching forward to squish your cheeks way too hard.

“Ricky, when I catch you, Ricky-” Connie says under his breath,

You snort, reaching forward to push Connie off. You focus back on Eren and Lana, who are now pulling each other's hair and a nice string of insults, as Mikasa and Levi brew their tea, entirely unbothered in the back.

And when the screen in front of you flashes, when your third album goes Multi-Platinum after a week of being released, they’re all climbing on you. Jean and Mikasa are hollering in the back, Connie and Lana are jostling you in the air and pressing kisses to your cheek, and Eren, Levi, and Hange smile at you, the three of them enveloped in their own hug, across the way.

You split your separate ways at the end of the week, when you’re ready. Connie, Jean, and Mikasa return to set, Lana and Eren are gone with the wind, and Levi and Hange disappear again.

When you sit on your plane back home, it sits in. How lonely this entire thing is. How a week full of your friends who love you only happened because of this sickening thing. That it's not a given, that they're presence is only in the bad times and almost never the good.

Your phone buzzes in your lap and you pick up your phone to read the notification.

eren: don’t be a stranger. fish like to swim in schools, not alone.

It’s something that rings in your mind, time and time again. When everyone else wins the war, when you keep performing and letting them take and take, for the sake of the work. For the art, for your dream.

And when you give up acting, singing, and dancing at the end of it all and make zero intentions to ever do any of this again, the question still bothers you.

If fish like to swim in schools, why did Eren push you so far away? Why was he so intent on swimming alone? Where you couldn't follow?

eren: I'm not saying that for you. and I know that this is selfish but...

eren: I need you just as much as you need me.

Fucking liar.

next part linked here

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms

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cattlemons · 5 months ago

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Third Fifth Time's A Charm

| You and Megumi have been dating for quite some time now. Almost half a year, give or take. Upsettingly enough, he has yet to say his ‘I love you's. This bugs him a bit too much so Megumi is now a man on a mission and that mission just so happens to be about confessing his love to you. Basically the four times Megumi almost dropped the “L” word and the one time that he did. I mean come on, fifth time’s a charm, right?

TW: None, I think? I wrote it with college!au in mind but can be read as just a normal jujutsu kaisen fic Just fluff after posting angst, megumi gets chased by a duck? idk what counts as a tw pls let me know if I should add anything, also actual big boy writing cus word count is 3k.

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Crumbs, ducks and hold on a minute...

It was around October when the leaves were finally falling and the air was brisk. Megumi had decided to take you out for a mini-date before finals week whisks the both of you away, each secluded in their own world of ink and paper.

It had honestly gone mostly ok and as planned. The usual schtick, really. Compliment your pretty outfit, exchange loving banters on the way there, get to the park and enjoy your time together. Simple and easy, right?

Wrong.

Megumi and you had just finished eating the sandwiches he’s prepared for the picnic. They were wrapped so neatly in pink patterned paper that you can’t help but swoon at the time and effort it must’ve taken for him to prepare it all.

Megumi took to the toilet a bit after that, or, he planned to. What he didn’t see coming is the fact that ducks started chasing him around right as he walked past the pond. You soon learned that they were chasing him because of the bread crumbs falling off of his jeans.

After a few bouts of running on Megumi’s part (and giggles from yours), the ducks finally stopped following him. Opting to squawk at the couple on the other side of the pond that’s actually trying to feed them crumbs and seeds.

Megumi soon found relief as he sat back down beside you still huffing and puffing from the unexpected marathon he ran. Of course, you being the compassionate girlfriend that you are, did not let him off easy. At least, not without teasing him a bit.

“You know those ducks have really good taste in men,” you quipped. A few beats of silence pass before the two of you erupt into a fit of laughter.

You were nearly in tears as you continued to giggle uncontrollably at the mental image of Megumi getting chased and flirted with by ducks. Though you probably won't find your laughing any special, Megumi found it absolutely breathtaking.

From the way your eyes brighten at the hilarious image to the sound of your held-in guffaws, Megumi just can’t get enough of it. He wants to hear it over and over again. He absolutely loves it.

And he absolutely loves you.

Wait, huh?

Watson, how do you say “I love you”?

“Finally! No more stuffy libraries and definitely no more books! I’m so happy it’s over,” you yelled as you stretched out your tired back.

Finals are over and you can now rest without worrying. However, it’s a whole other story for Megumi. He is still stressed out of his mind but not because of the reason you might think. No, he is stressed because he has yet confessed the feelings hidden deep in the recesses of his heart.

I love you.

Who knew such simple words could drive one mad. Megumi never would’ve thought the stress his feelings would bring could trump the amount of stress an exam would bring but he supposes that he can only be so many times.

Megumi has decided that maybe he should tell you the three words that have been plaguing his mind. So a few days after some much-needed rest, Megumi proposes a little trip to the art museum. Who were you to refuse such a sweet request?

Dressed in his most academic-looking attire, Megumi readies himself for his little confession, going so far as to script it.

Yes, today he will confess!

Today he did not confess.

It really was the perfect moment. Megumi feels absolutely horrible for letting such perfect timing pass him by but nothing could be done about it now.

The perfect timing came by when you were nearing the end of the date. It was a really fun date, possibly one of the best ones so far! Megumi had shown you around the museum, giving fun tidbits of information on each art he sees. You were about to point out how knowledgeable your boyfriend was before it finally clicked.

“Ah! My dear Watson, I think I’ve solved the mystery. It turns out the Duke of Information, Megumi Noritoshi, has done ample research before this date! Proof in the pudding, Watson, look at his palms,” you teased as you took his hands into yours and pushed back his sweater sleeves to see smeared notes on his earlier “fun facts”.

Megumi’s face turned pink as he flushed at your exposing of his secret. Muttering a small, “Blimey, I’ve been caught!” in response to your little skit.

Seeing him blush and flustered has you grinning (not that anyone could blame you, it really is a cute sight). Taking your chance, you decide to tease him a bit more. Opting for light nudges of your elbow and soft kisses all over his face. This, of course, did nothing to ease the red spilling all over his cheeks. If anything it painted more colors on his face.

Once the teasing died down, you decided to maybe be a bit more heartfelt. After all, he did prepare for your date and put in so much effort to learn these facts and information.

“I might not say this enough but I absolutely appreciate you putting this much effort into our dates… maybe I have not been vocal enough about these things but I hope you know I really do appreciate you doing this and… I love you,” you mumbled a tad bit quieter than you usually would. You’re even caught sporting a light blush of your own despite you trying your best to keep a nonchalant front. This isn’t your first time telling him you love him but, still, being so heartfelt like this has you blushing.

Megumi smiled at his usually unbothered girlfriend being so, well, bothered.

Wrapping his hands around your waist, he goes to give you a small peck on the crown of your head before leaning in a bit more to whisper his confession.

I love you!

Yet the words did not seem to tumble out. Although a bit disappointed in his lack of confidence, Megumi recovered quickly and instead leaned in for a sweet kiss.

I wonder if fishes have confessions too?

“Megumi look! They’re so pretty,” you exclaimed excitedly as you pointed at a jellyfish swimming past. Megumi nods in agreement though he is honestly paying more attention to you than the exhibit.

Megumi has taken it upon himself to set up another good date to confess on. Truth be told, he’s had far too many nightmare-ish thoughts about his recent failures in confessing and how he’ll never be able to say it. So, to take action, Megumi decides to take you on another date. This time he decided that maybe visiting an aquarium would be fun!

He is sorely mistaken, unfortunately.

As you continue to walk through the exhibit, you fail to notice Megumi lagging a bit behind you in the aquarium tunnel. Your attention was so fixated by the fishes swimming over your head and on each of your sides, that you missed the sight of your boyfriend darkly muttering (and struggling) on his confession script.

Or so he thought...

“Honestly, why can’t I just be a fish-”

“Why would you want to be a fish though?” you asked as you leaned in towards him.

Megumi’s eyes widen in surprise at your sudden intrusion. Megumi supposes that he’s been too lost to the world. He shook his head and just muttered a quiet “never mind”.

The day continued as you enjoyed your day. You feast your eyes on magnificent sea creatures both great and small; you can’t help but awe at them as a child would. Not that Megumi minded, he thinks you look absolutely adorable when you coo at the sharks or clap at the seals when they would do a trick. However, Megumi couldn’t say he’s enjoying today as much because he continued to struggle with his little confession script, either chickening out at the last minute or completely missing the perfect timing.

By the end of the day, Megumi decided enough is enough. Under the dim lights of the empty “deep sea” sector of the zoo, Megumi closed his eyes and steeled himself. Summoning every bit of courage he had within him, he blurted out his confession. It was a bit aggressive and loud, perhaps even a bit rushed.

But he did it-

-not.

Megumi opened his eyes, to be greeted not by your soft smile. It wasn’t even your frown. Instead, he was greeted by a fish staring directly at him through the aquarium glass. It seems to be mocking him, almost. And as for you, you were already at the other side of the area, lining up to pay for a souvenir that caught your eyes.

Ugh, why can’t he just be a fish and blow bubbles at you to show his love?

Wine is a poetic mood-setter, right?

Although tired and defeated by his numerous failed attempts, Megumi is not one to give up. This is especially true when it comes to you. So, if one plan fails then best be known he is already running back to the drawing board to come up with a new one.

This time around Megumi decided to pull up on all the stops. Sparing no expense, he reserved a table at one of the city’s most high-end restaurants. I mean what could be more romantic than a late-night wine-and-dine?

To Megumi it’s not the pricey menus that are troubling, nor is it the number of strings he had to pull to get the reservation. Nope. What’s troubling him is the confession he is secretly building up to. You see, it’s been a good handful of months since Megumi came to the realization that he absolutely adores you.

He loves you.

Yet, somehow, saying it out loud is a whole different league than thinking and coming to terms with it. Something about admitting it and posing vulnerable seems so jarring to him. Of course, you’ve never given him any reason to fear being honest with you. He supposes that if anything were to cause him to be this certain way, then it’s probably the lack of touchy-feely emotions in his childhood. That aside, Megumi is still as determined as ever to tell you that he loves you. This brings us to the current situation.

Megumi is seated opposite of you, decked in his slickest suit and tie. You had admitted that he looks ridiculously good in his outfit before the dinner (he blushes at the comment). Naturally, you were also in a rather stunning number yourself, with the scandalous-looking outfit only you could possibly pull off.

As much as Megumi would love to just admire you and enjoy the amazing atmosphere, he has other things currently occupying his head. At first glance, you might’ve thought that he was flustered by your choice of outfit for the night if you didn’t know any better. This is, of course, one of the reasons why Megumi was a bit dazed but sadly that’s not the only reason why.

You didn’t really connect the dots right away. There are a bunch of little crumbs and pieces that could’ve contributed to Megumi’s flustered and jumpy attitude in this particular evening but nothing defining.

The evening progressed and more telltale signs showed themselves to you. You could honestly write a meter-long list but to keep it concise, the things you have noticed include Megumi’s inability to look you directly in the eye, the rather incessant twiddling of his thumbs, the stutter that accompanied his usually leveled voice, and finally (and the most telling) is his avoidance of the word “love”.

Of course, it could all be a coincidence but you think not. Although you didn’t do much to garner his “suspicion”, you’re not daft nor were you ignorant. You knew of his struggles in dropping a particular “L” word. You had honestly known for a while. It’s not that you were a psychic or anything of that sort, it was actually because Megumi had not been the most secretive of his plans. You suppose he intended for it to be a “hush-hush” plan but unfortunately for Megumi, he had a tendency to think out loud when stressed.

Though you were originally planning to let Megumi off the hook and let him figure things out on his own, you decided that leaving him to wallow on his own is doing more harm than good. So when Megumi choked rather aggressively at his pasta when you said the word “love”, you chose to bring up the topic.

“So, when are you gonna tell me what’s been cooking up in that head of yours… hmm?”

Megumi’s eyes widened at the question you’ve just asked, though it seems more like a prompt than a question. Megumi looked down to his lap for a second before facing you again, this time sporting an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

Megumi struggled to confess before letting out a defeated sigh and a small apology. This caused you to shake your head, not in a dismissive way but in a way to tell him that there’s nothing to be sorry for.

“Megumi, I know you know I know so I’ll just say it outright,” you huffed before continuing, “I love you’s aren’t something you can or should force out. I’ve said it to you on countless accounts because it comes naturally to me, love. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel cornered into saying it but please know that I don’t mind you taking your time, ok?”

Your little speech was met with a relieved sigh and soon followed by a laugh. You look up to see Megumi’s genuine grin in place, you can’t help but smile at the endearing sight.

“Ahh, I should’ve known not to stress over these kinds of things when it’s with you, huh? Thanks. I’ll definitely take my time with it.”

You nodded in agreement at his newfound determination. As much as you wanted to hear those three words tumble out of his lips and uttered to you, you knew better than to rush him into it. And besides, hearing it in full sincerity will definitely be better than hearing a rushed one. With all that said, you and Megumi enjoyed the rest of the evening with wine glasses raised and the air filled with happy chatters and laughs.

And I thought it was difficult, huh?

A streak of light shone through the gaps in the curtains, making it known to you that it is time to get up already. Or, at least, it would be time to get up had it been a weekday. Thankfully, however, it is the weekend so you can take your time in getting up. While your boyfriend slept soundly beside you, his hand draped loosely over your figure, you can’t help but admire his features. As you did so, thoughts on what happened a while back popped into your head.

It’s been a few months since your last dinner date with Megumi and things have calmed down quite a bit. Although Megumi still feels a twinge of guilt from his lack of response whenever you whisper an “I love you”, he does remember your take on this situation, and those few words you spared have done immense work in calming him down.

As you continue to reminisce on the events that have transpired in the last few months, you failed to notice Megumi stirring awake beside you. You only notice that he’s awake when he’s poking your cheek, asking, no, demanding petulantly for his morning kisses.

Deciding to tease him a bit while he’s still in his morning daze, you uttered, “Sorry, love. Morning breath.” You went as far as sniffing at his general direction and fanning your hands over your nose and scrunched your nose up in fake disgust.

Still in a sleepy stupor, Megumi pouts at you and goes to get out of bed. You decide to let your curiosity win and end up following your boyfriend to the bathroom, the cold linoleum tiles doing wonders in waking the two of you up immediately.

Though he is now much more awake now than a few minutes ago, it didn’t dampen his pout one bit. With the handle of his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, Megumi babbled on about how his day is now ruined because you wouldn’t let him start it off with a kiss. You only giggled in response, your own toothbrush poking out of your lips.

Being the menace that you are, you decided to playfully smear Megumi’s face with some toothpaste foam. One thing led to another and soon you two are on the bathroom floor laughing aloud. Somehow his laugh and expressions egged yours on and yours did his which caused a new bout of laughter to erupt every time you’d both fall silent. It went on like this for quite some time but neither of you minded it one bit.

Now that the laughter has died down a bit, you both exchanged mini banters here and there, still seated on the floor with both your shoulders touching; with toothpaste in your hair and on his cheek. As you giggled at a particular joke Megumi muttered, he felt that odd feeling in his heart again, just like the time in the park and all those other dates he stressed over but this time, before he could stop it, he whispered…

“I love you.”

Your laughter immediately ceased only to be replaced by the happiest grin you’ve ever mustered. With new buzzing energy coursing through you, you tackled Megumi into a hug which effectively knocked the two of you down to the ground but neither you nor Megumi minded.

With his newfound confidence, Megumi repeated the foreign sentence over and over again as if he’s testing it out. He finds that he likes saying it.

He likes it because your smile widens a bit more when he says it.

He likes it because you’d give him kisses whenever he says it.

And he absolutely loves it because you’d always say it back to him.

With a wobbly and lovesick grin, Megumi says it one more time for good measure.

“I love you.”

a.n. I did not really proofread this bcs I had classes today and it KO'd me :"(

Hope you liked it!

#cattlemon's writing #Megumi x reader #Megumi Fushiguro x reader #Megumi fluff #Megumi Fushiguro fluff #Megumi x you #Megumi Fushiguro x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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gemini-stories · 11 months ago

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remember me (2) | j.wy x reader

synopsis: the years may have passed but he always remembered you. even when you didn't. pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader genre: idol!AU, friends to strangers to partners to lovers (?), smut (minors do not interact!!) warnings: idol wooyoung, idol reader, smut, swearing, a tad bit of angst, mutual pining, oh.oh (I really wanted to use this trope in this story!), unprotected vaginal penetration (bad irl!!), mirrors (iykik), reader is bitchy, wooyoung finally stands up for himself (and the end makes him happy:D), miscommunication (I hate this but I swear there's a reason for it). nothing too dirty but if I miss anything pls let me know! word count: 5.1k ish a/n: when I first got the idea for this I thought I knew exactly where it was going. I was so wrong:)) the story kinda wrote itself in the end. I wanted to apologise for the miscommunication trope but it was so necessary for the development of both reader's and wy's development (don't hate me too much, it was all good in the end:D). as usual I’m open to any feedback and criticism so don’t be shy to let me know!! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ previous part ─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

“You did what?” Hajun started laughing.

“You heard me the first time,” you rolled your eyes, reaching for the takeout Hajun brought to you half an hour ago, when you called him for an embarrassing emergency.

“Obviously I did. But I wanted you to say again how you sat on the pretty boy’s face.”

You couldn’t say the whole situation happened out of nowhere. You couldn’t deny the tension between you only got stronger since the stupid sexy dance.

You expected Wooyoung to mention your little very hot interaction. But he didn’t! He was acting as if nothing happened, back to being the sloppy, careless, unreliable, and spineless self.

And that pissed you off even more. Was he ever going to mention anything? How long were you going to wait? You gave him plenty of opportunities! Right? You were the one that went to him first. And what did he do? Pretend you never met, never existed. Unimpressed. Careless.

Sloppy. Unreliable.

And spineless.

“All I’m saying is, you two seemed to enjoy each other. So I see nothing wrong about it,” Hajun continued slurping from his drink.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Dude, what complications?” he asked skeptically.

“I can give you about a gazillion..dude.”

“If it’s about our eternal love, I can take my pity ass and my heartbroken heart and disappear in the sunset,” he wiped a fake tear from his right eye. To which you could only reply by laughing.

“No, but I’m serious, you know our arrangement was never something that should be complicated and could be ended whenever it wasn’t useful for any of us.”

“I know,” you sighed, “and trust me this has nothing to do with it. I swear.”

“Then? What’s the problem?”

Then? What’s the problem? You. You were the problem. And your lack of sincerity.

And Wooyoung’s.

But, oh well, two could play this game. If he was not going to say anything, why would you. You continued your practice like before. Him messing up, as usual. And you bitching about it with snarky remarks, as usual. Him never replying back, as usual. And you getting more pissed because of it, as usual.

You tried to ignore the feeling of his touch, and the electricity it was sending to your body each time. Thinking about dead unicorns should help.

His hands glided over your thighs, ripping your skin with them, leaving you open and raw, falling into his arms. Finally, this dance move was a success, at the price of you being skinned alive. You looked into his eyes. Really looked. And could only silently beg him to look back into yours. Really look.

“Are you ok?” Hongjoong asked. You were almost finalising your studio session of the day and to say that you were distracted was not enough. You were not your talkative opinionated self and that was making Hongoong slightly uncomfortable. He felt you staring at the screens over his shoulder the whole time, without you making any remarks to the changes he was making to the song segments. It was too weird for him. He had to ask. It was your decision if you were going to be honest or not.

“Why did you propose for Wooyoung to be my partner when I told you I was looking for one?” you asked absentmindedly.

“Did he do something?” he turned to face you. “Did he say something? What did he do?”

You kinda mentally chuckled at the thought of Wooyoung misbehaving so much that this was Hongjoong’s first thought, that he did something. Not that he was wrong though. He did more than something. He said more than something too…focus. Dead unicorns.

“Nothing, nothing. I was just curious.” You nudged.

“Oh, okay. Well, he is the best dancer I know. So, I thought it would be a great solution for you and a great opportunity for him, for a great collaboration with the second best dancer I know,” he smiled.

“How dare you?” you gasped, pretending to be offended. “At least tell me I’m the best singer you produced a song for. So I can forgive this audacity!”

To which Hongjoong remained silent and continued to smile, returning to his work.

“Rude,” you scoffed.

If only Wooyoung could live up to Hongjoong’s title. You knew he was great. Amazing even. You were an Ateez fan after all. You knew what he was capable of. You watched all his performances. So why was he not giving his best with you too.

You two had another video call with the choreographer, after your latest dance video submission. He was disappointed and he was trying really hard to hide it.

“Wooyoung, I watched some of your videos man, and what I see now doesn’t seem like you.”

Exactly what you were thinking!

“And you Y/N, we worked together for years. I know you. This doesn’t seem like you either,” he sighed. “The second choreography was meant to strengthen your chemistry, not make it worse. Please, try it again for a couple of days and then go back to your routine. Accept each other’s movements.”

How could you go back to the second, hot and dangerous choreography. You both silently agreed to not mention it again. Dead unicorns, right?

You were stiff.

He was flustered.

This was never going to work out.

“What is this?” you asked reaching for the small pink box from the bench where you’d usually leave your bag at the beginning of the practice.

“I, I wanted to apologise,” Wooyoung started with a shy smile, “for everything. Everything.”

You opened the box to find a dozen bunny shaped biscuits, topped with white icing. The asshole.

“No thanks, I don’t eat sugar.”

The room turned a couple degrees colder. You politely closed the box and put it back on the bench, starting your morning practice.

Nothing was working how you wanted. For the first time in weeks it was you making stupid mistakes. Wooyoung was doing god’s work trying not to start laughing at every mistake. The fact that he was aware of your mistakes was making you even more self-conscious and you hated feeling that. You knew exactly when was the last time you felt like that and you swore to yourself to never feel like that again. But here you were now. In this situation. And there was only one asshole to blame.

“Did you really think that apology was going to work?” You couldn’t keep it in you anymore and asked staring into his eyes, when he was on top of you.

“What?” He stopped in the middle of his step.

“The stupid biscuits, what were you thinking?”

“I thought it would be a nice gesture. How should I know you don’t eat sugar?”

You groaned loudly, continuing your steps.

“It’s not even about the sugar.”

Wooyoung was so confused. You were always weirdly cryptic in a mad way, but this time it was…weird in a weird way. Most of the times you were annoyed by things he was not doing, and this was a first - being annoyed by something he did do?

He was surprised you never mentioned the incident. He didn’t want to be too greedy so he didn’t do it first. He could swear something possessed him that day. He was so…cheeky that day. Was he cheeky with his partners before? Sure. Would he have done something like this with someone else? Of course!

How did he do it with you? He couldn’t comprehend. He was never cheeky with you. For god’s sake he couldn’t even argue with you when you kept bitching during practice.

So what on earth went through his mind?

The same nasty thoughts he always had when he thinks of you. The same nasty thoughts he always had when you were in a five meter radius from him.

The same nasty thoughts he always had when he touched you.

He blushed the whole way home that day. He blushed while getting ready for bed. He blushed while taking a shower. He blushed while drawing stupid hearts on the shower glass. He blushed while taking a picture. He blushed while thinking of you when writing the caption. He blushed when he saw you liked the post.

He was so far gone.

All the possible conversation scenarios went through his mind that night and he was ready to have any sort of uncomfortable talk with you. But you acted like nothing happened and didn’t say anything. So he didn’t either.

He thought about apologizing. For everything. And what better way than with something sweet. Two things that were always recurrent on your old instagram were bunnies and desserts. So he thought, what could go wrong with some bunny biscuits. Right?

Apparently many things because you were mad about it. For some reason Wooyoung couldn’t understand. It was a different type of mad from the one you constantly showed in the past weeks. It was more of a sulky mad, which Wooyoung actually found adorable.

But nevertheless you were mad. And that never helped your dance practices before, it wasn’t going to help now either.

It was most certainly not helping you while getting flustered during the dance.

You mentally refused to call for Hajun in the past days, especially for your quick breaks during the day. You really wanted to, but you couldn’t. A different person was flying through your thoughts when you were thinking about it. Your arrangement with Hajun was nice and convenient but you’d never fuck him while thinking of someone else. You were not like that.

So you were left just with your thoughts.

And the memory of that day.

How hot and electrifying it was. How hot and electrifying he was. Nope. Dead unicorns!

“Is your dance practice going well?” Hongjoong questioned Wooyoung after just arriving at the studio with a bag of take out that Hongjoong asked for.

“Amazing.” Wooyoung breathed, paying attention to the food packages, looking for something he could nibble on. “Why?”

“Y/N cancelled our session today saying she wants to focus on the dance as there’s ‘some setbacks that she couldn’t foresee’”, he emphasized with air quotes and squinting his eyes. “What did you do?”

Wooyoung scoffed. “Why do you think I did something? We weren’t supposed to practice today and I have no clue what these ‘setbacks’ are about. Maybe she didn’t want to see you today and lied about it. Did you think about that?” he giggled while stealing some fries from Hongjoong’s plate.

“Y/N wouldn’t lie.” Hongjoong stated matter of factly, as if he stated the sky is blue.

He was honest about it as he was honest about the image he had of you - sincere, hardworking, professional and sweet and caring and, and definitely not a liar that avoids a day of work.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. Of course she wouldn’t.

Okay, maybe indeed you wouldn’t lie. Break promises? Forget about them? Stamp on them? All plausible events.

“You know what I don’t get?” Hongjoong continued opening his sauce.

“I have a really long list. With what do you want me to start?”

“You think you’re smart, dumbass?”

“I do, in fact.” Wooyoung smiled proudly.

“Nevermind then.” Hongjoong hated how Wooyoung wasn’t serious about this conversation. He wasn’t serious from the beginning and Hongjoong thought it was just a caprice. One that continued for longer than he expected. The reason why he really wanted to understand what this was all about.

“Come on, don’t start sulking like a bitch and tell me!”

“I know you are a stupid fanboy in, what you think is a secret, but when you talk about her you sound like you hate her. What’s up with it, it’s weird dude.”

From all the item’s on Wooyoung’s list, this was not one. Did he really make it sound like he hates you? Was he stupid? He didn’t want the others to know that he admires you so much so they wouldn’t tease him about it, but he didn’t want the opposite either…from the outside perspective it looks like he hates you?

“I don’t hate her. I could never hate her.'' He was looking anywhere but at Hongjoong, not being able to face him, now embarrassed by himself.

“I know that. But if you act with her like how you talk to me about her, I have bad news for you.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated for who? You? Then uncomplicate it.” Hongjoong sighed. “We can’t afford not having great results out of this collaboration. It’s not only good for you or for me. It’s good for all of us. Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.”

Is he fucking it up?

He scrolled through his camera roll until he found the picture he was looking for. A picture of the red velvet cake he bought a few days ago as a nice gesture for the team. The cake was cut in eight even slices, with one slice missing, that he ate by himself because he was too impatient to wait for everyone to be back home and eat it together. Maybe he was always a little bit too impatient and expected too much from others.

He edited the picture, putting a filter over it, that would fit the rest of his feed and posted it on his secret account with the caption: ‘I bleed on the plate in front of you and you sip my blood even though you are not thirsty.’

You sighed looking at the picture and reading the caption and put your phone aside. You were alone in the dance room, trying to take your mind from anything else but dancing. You had to admit, Wooyoung was not the only one making mistakes. You had to focus and get it done with it!

The last time you felt so incompetent while dancing was in your first year you took lessons. You were maybe five or six. You didn’t understand much, thinking that dancing is just vibing with the music. You cried at your first competition after making a mistake on stage, making you feel not good enough. You promised yourself then and there to never feel like that again. And you never did again.

You were startled when the door opened and Wooyoung entered, holding a small pink box.

“We were supposed to have the day off from practice today. What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I should ask you,” he smiled a sweet smile. “I wanted to bring you some of this, I swear they have no sugar,” he passed you the small box that you opened and saw the same bunny shapes. It was crackers this time, no sugar. “It’s from this bakery that I really like and I swear it’s really nice.”

You scoffed, closing your eyes and clenching your jaw. “Why are you doing this?”

“I thought it would be nice.”

You pushed the box back to him and looked up straight into his eyes. “Why the fucking bunnies?’

“I thought you’d like them.”

“Why? Why would you think I’d like them?”

Please, for once, say it.

“Because they are cute?”

“For fuck’s sake Wooyoung,” you turned your back to him, pretending to go back to your practice. “Forget about it.”

For once, when Wooyoung got annoyed he did talk back to you. He wanted to just leave. If you didn’t want his gift he wasn’t going to insist. But you had to go and run your mouth and touch his most sensitive nerve. Too bad. “That might be something that you can easily do. But I don’t!”

Were you hearing right? He talked back! Finally. Too bad he also had the audacity. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I never forget anything important to me,” he continued.

“Oh, sure you don’t forget anything,” you interrupted, mocking him.

“But it seems forgetting comes effortlessly for you. Since you probably don’t care about it, it doesn’t matter and it easily disappears from your mind, no?”

“I came to you!” you stopped his rambling. “And you forgot me! You forgot our promise! You forgot to fulfill it! I gave you so many chances and each time you acted as if you forgot everything. Even this stupid fucking choreography. I wanted to do it with you from the beginning. But then you acted like you never cared about it? You were late, you were not putting in effort, you were not even defending yourself.”

And it was out. You kept it in you for so long. It was bound to happen. Was it sort of kind of the reason why everything wrong that he was doing was making you so bitchy? Definitely yes. And now it was sort of kind of out in the open. You could finally confront him about him being the bad guy in your story.

“You, you knew all this time?”

He wasn’t sure he heard right. You knew. It wasn’t just him. But you too.

“I knew what? That we made a stupid promise that you never kept when we were ten? That we met again four years later and I came to you and you acted like you had no idea who I was? That the next year was the same? Even worse? That we were working in the same fucking industry but you never once remembered? Then, yes, yes I knew about all this.”

It was never a stupid promise. Never for him. Thanks to it he actually continued his dance lessons as a child. He ended up winning so many competitions. The scouts from the company noticed him. He debuted. He is here today, with you, preparing for the end of the year awards. He was always grateful for it, even when he thought you didn’t remember. It was never a stupid promise.

“I never forgot. I knew it was you!”

He was unbelievable.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you threw your hand in the air, in a sign of desperation.

“I was embarrassed, okay?” Wooyoung fidgeted in place. It was the first time he was going to admit this out loud. Not even in his thoughts did he ever admit it. “Because I wasn’t able to keep the promise and win, I felt like a failure.” Indeed, he never fulfilled his side of the promise. He did win the competition, but he didn’t “snatch” the first place from you. You were not there. And that was the only reason he was able to win. Which was proved years later when you two were competing against each other and you effortlessly won. He never got first place with you there.

“This is so dumb. I only made that promise with you because I thought you were sweet and cute,” you blushed, “and I didn't want you to abandon dancing, and I wanted to see you again the next year!”

“But you moved away.” He stopped your train of thoughts. As if he found the flaw in your story. It was 100% not only his fault here.

“But I moved away. And I was still hoping you’d win the stupid competitions so we’d meet at regionals!” Fair excuse. In fact, it was not your fault that you moved. You were too young and you were going where your parents were going.

“But then you acted like you didn’t know me there.” See? Another flaw in your story.

“I wanted to see if you remembered me! And it was obvious to me you didn’t!” Which seemed perfectly reasonable to your fourteen year old brain. Now? Not as much. But back then you could swear this was the most romantic thing you could think of - testing to see if he’d remember. Almost like testing the power of destiny.

“I wanted to see if you remembered me! I didn’t want to embarrass myself even more, hanging on to a promise from years ago.” Valid. Very valid. Extremely valid. Both to his fourteen year old self and the present self.

“Oh my god?” you groaned. “Not even when I made this whole elaborated plan to have you as my dance partner couldn’t you tell? It took me months to think of something.”

“You did say your favourite was Hongjoong though. That reinforced to me that you didn’t remember me in fact.”

You groaned. After you debuted you gave up on seeing Wooyoung again. He remained a bittersweet memory in your mind, thinking of him constantly. Wondering what he was up to. Then he debuted as well. The universe was really giving you another chance.

Now, you only had to find a way to be together and see if maybe maybe he could remember you. Which was obviously not easy. Be it award shows, or music shows, it was never the right moment or the right time.

Then an interesting thought crept into your mind. You were going to work on your solo album and have an important dance segment. You could definitely have a collaboration of some sorts with him. But how were you going to ask for it without it being too suspicious.

You never lied by saying you wanted to have a song produced by Hongjoong! It was just such a wonderful result of how your plan was going to work.

“I was giving you signs too!” Wooyoung complained.

“What?” you got closer to him. “The bunnies?” you raised your chin to face him. “The pictures with cryptic verses?” you squinted your eyes.

“What pictures with cryptic verse?”

There was no way you knew about it. You couldn’t. How could you?

“Don’t act dumb now. I know all about your secret account. And I know you know I know. I even followed you!”

Wooyoung was panicking. “How did you know it was mine?”

“Oh please, the profile picture is your hand as a pinky promise,” you started, “and some things you were writing were fitting with things you were doing.” you felt your cheeks burn just a little bit.

“Like what?” maybe you were bluffing, or simply testing him, as it seems you were testing him constantly. Nevertheless, he was curious what gave him away. It couldn’t have been just the profile pictures.

“You know…things.”

“I actually don’t,” he looked down at you through hooded eyes, suspicious. You were fucking bluffing!

You avoided his glare, looking away when you finally said with a small voice, “The shower heart convinced me it was you.”

Oh. Oh.

So it was like that. The unspeakable.

“See, that’s another event you were acting like it never happened and you never mentioned it.”

“You never mentioned it either,” you opened your eyes accusingly.

“Why do you keep waiting for me to do things first?” he closed the distance between your faces, breathing you in. “What was I supposed to say? Can you sit on my face again? Would you allow me the privilege to eat you out again?”

“I didn’t… I never…You…could’ve…” you swallowed your words because anyways you didn’t know what you wanted to say.

Wooyoung chuckled at your loss of words, couldn’t believe you were not having a comeback. It was fairly easy to do and he scolded himself for not doing it earlier, as you were too cute squirming there not uttering a word back to him.

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” he smirked, eyeing your lips. He wanted to test this limit of yours.

“Don’t be an asshole.” And…you were back to your bitchy defensive self.

“Oh, I’m the asshole? Don’t act like I’m the bad guy now.”

“No. I don’t act anything. Yes, you are the bad guy in my story. So what, I am probably the bad guy in your story. You know we are all bad guys in someone’s story.” You could ramble on and on, deflecting the attention from you to whatever you were trying to say.

Wooyoung cupped your cheek bringing back your attention to him. “Can you just… shut the fuck up for once and let me kiss you.”

He pressed his lips on yours, shyly nibbling at your lower lip. He deepened the kiss, lowering his hand on the side of your neck. You smiled against his lips and shortly giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Wooyoung furrowed his brows.

“You are acting differently.” You started playing with the zipper of his hoodie, unsure if you should say this. “One day you don’t even look me in the eyes and then the next you tell me to shut up and you do this?”

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a sheepish smile.

“You mean this?” And kissed you again, deeper and sloppier. “You just got me acting up.”

It was so easy for you to get lost into the kiss, feeling it like a warm embrace in your whole body.

“I think I might like you more when you actually talk back,” you said in between kisses, trying to gasp for air.

He continued a trail of kisses on your neck, which you found extremely dangerous.

“Maybe we should practice the choreography,” you whispered.

“I thought we were not supposed to practice today,” he breathed on your skin.

“Well since you came all the way here, we shouldn’t waste any time, right? Time is ticking and we should send a new recording.”

You felt his other hand caressing your waist. You really wished you weren’t wearing a sweater. He stopped his sweet sweet kisses and looked at you.

“I think I might like you more when you shut up,” he grinned a shit-eating grin.

“Smartass.”

You did say you liked him more when he was talking back and that was exactly what he was doing.

He didn’t remove his hand from you, one still resting on the small of your back and one still kneading your neck. He was waiting for your next move. If you really wanted to practice, that’s what he was going to do. If not, he also had other ideas.

“Fuck it,” you sighed, reaching for his lips.

You kissed him exactly how you wanted to kiss him the day he entered through the door of your practice room, hungrily and passionatly.

Wooyoung’s hands found their way under your sweater, gliding on your bare back for the first time and sending shivers through your body.

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed.

That was the moment the flip switched in his brain. You chose the section option. To hell with the dance practice.

He guided you to the nearest wall, where you could finally rest against something. You could swear your knees were going to fail on you.

You quickly unzipped his hoodie and peeled it off him smoothly. He wasted no time and took off his shirt in a swift motion. You trailed the lines of his chest with your fingers, leaving the ghost of your touch burning up his skin.

“One from me, one from you,” he tugged at the hem of your sweater. You raised your arms letting him take it off for you. You wanted to see him work for it. He removed your white top without warning, leaving you half naked.

“That was actually two from me,” you chuckled.

He was kissing the top of your breasts. Licking and delicately biting your soft spots.

“How beautiful,” he whispered against your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, completely leaning between the wall and him and his kisses. You could feel him through your thin leggings and you loved that you had this effect on him. You couldn’t help but slowly move your hips. Yup, you were hot and bothered. How could you not, when you were showered in his sweet kisses.

His hand traveled lower, under your leggings.

“You do have a habit of not wearing underwear, huh?”

You felt your cheeks turning red. Yes, that was a habit you could say. A habit that you were so going to continue practicing from now on.

You unhooked your legs, allowing him to take off your leggings. He took his sweet time pulling them down, and then slowly kissing your leg up to your thigh, ending up with a sloppy kiss on top of your pussy.

He was in the middle of unzipping his pants when he stopped. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

“That’s literally the last thing i care about right now,” you scoffed and unzipped his pants yourself.

Wooyoung gleamead and kissed your forehead tenderlly. “You are so perfect.”

You raised your right leg, to make space for him. He took out his cock, aligning himself at your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside you.

Your hips were moving by themselves, you wanted him deeper and deeper. Closer and closer. All of him.

He grabbed your other leg too, hooking them both behind his back. You were wrapped around him, locking him in place. There was no other place he’d rather be except between your legs.

You were softly moaning in his ear and he could swear this was what heaven sounded like.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, increasing his pace, “this feels better than I ever imagined.”

Your lips pursed in a devilish smile, “You imagined this?”

“And so many other things.”

You could not get enough of him. Your eyes were rolling back in pleasure and you were struggling to keep them open and focus on the opposite wall’s mirrors. You could see Woyoung’s back reflecting in the mirrors, his back muscles flexing with every little thrust. You just wanted to have a bite of it. Too delicious to resist. You rested your head on his shoulder, kissing and grazing it with your teeth. That should do. For now.

Wooyoung grabbed your ass cheeks, squeezing them, trying to pull you closer. You were feeling your orgasm, almost there, ready to make you explode and see fireworks.

“So good.”

“So beautiful.”

“So perfect.”

His praises were what sent you over the edge, riding through your high. For which he was thanking all the gods as he was ready to cum the moment he first kissed you.

He quickly pulled out as he felt he was going to cum and finished on your stomach. You looked down to your stomach, that was now wet and sticky.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get to ask. And I didn’t want to finish inside without asking.” He was breathing hecticly, recovering from his high.

You touched your stomach, your legs still hooked around him. You traced your fingers through his mess and brought them close to your lips, licking them clean, while keeping eye contact with him.

“You are killing me.” He said, looking up at the ceiling, trying to contain himself.

But oh his neck looked so beautiful.

And you definitely weren’t able to contain yourself, so you started kissing it.

“You’ll make me hard again,” he chuckled.

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