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hannieehaee · 1 year ago

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NEEDLE IN THE HAY

18+ / mdi

summary: after swearing off dating due to a messy breakup, wonwoo finds himself being forced out of the house by mingyu, joining the 97 squad as an honorary member. what wonwoo didn't realize, however, was that he'd end up swallowing his words after meeting the newest addition to the friend group.

content: idol!wonwoo x idol!reader, pining, friends to lovers, wonwoo's pov, reader is a 97 liner, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, angst (with a happy ending), some self-deprecating thoughts from wonu </3

wc: 8.5k

a/n: can u guys tell i love idol aus or what .. anyways, this time i used proper capitalization since this is long as fuck! hope u enjoy even if its a bit of a mess <3

masterlist kofi/patreon

support me through a one-time tip! <3

Wonwoo was going through a slump.

As commonly known by his fans (and probably non fans too, by now), Wonwoo had a girlfriend prior to debuting. He's not entirely sure how the news came about to the public (something about a trainee leaking information ..?), but in reality that didn't really matter. What mattered now was that he now had to relive his messy breakup over and over again as people made it a bit of a 'meme' among the fandom. It wasn't like it made it to the news or anything, but even the reminder was enough to bring back the bad memories surrounding it. All the low self-esteem and doubtfulness that was attached to it. The breakup might've been distant by now, but the news breaking out were fresh, causing Wonwoo's wounds to reopen.

Now, Wonwoo didn't blame carats for this. Under any other circumstance he would've also found it comedic, but after it being a few years since the breakup and not managing to find a long-term relationship ever since, Wonwoo found himself in a slump once more, just like he felt when he was freshly broken up.

She, who shall not be named, was one of his closest friends in grade school. She hung around when he was nothing more than a lanky loser (not his words, but that of a few rowdy kids at school). She'd seen him and respected him before the world even knew his name. And then she'd become more than a friend.

As Wonwoo first made the decision to join Pledis, he was entirely unsure of himself. He wasn't untalented by absolutely any means, that much even he knew. He was growing to be a handsome young man, and was discovering new skills every day. But he didn't feel like he stood out enough to make it all the way to debut. His girlfriend, however, stood by him and gave him the strength to continue, which he did in hopes of making not only his family proud, but what he believed to be the love of his life proud too. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was a teenager, who could blame him for thinking himself in love?

Soon after came his debut. Things were going great. The sole fact that he had made it to debut with 12 of his friends and fellow trainees had him over the moon. He had fans now; supporters who thought the world of him. He had a happy family waiting for him at home, and a girl he was infatuated with that he could keep all to himself, away from the public eye. Everything was perfect. Until it wasnt.

It was as predictable as you'd imagine. The fame, the limelights, the constantly-changing schedules. It was all too much for someone who could do no more than watch from the sidelines. The issues began a few years into his debut. He felt her begin to pull away. To be fair, he might've unconsciously pulled away first, but his life was getting too hectic for things to be the same as before. Maybe it was his fault for believing that she would evolve along with his life, willing to follow him as he continued his journey with his 12 friends.

If that had been the end, maybe it would've been okay. But the breakup had not happened just yet. We could've stayed friends if we had only ended it there, he'd thought many times. Unfortunately for Wonwoo, a clean break just was not in his cards. He found out about it through his younger brother. The betrayal. The disrespect. The heartbreak. He would've rathered she'd broken his heart face to face, you know? Maybe that way it wouldn't have hurt years into the future as it continued to do.

She had found someone else. It was some guy she met in college (something Wonwoo thought he'd do someday, but had chosen the life of an artist instead). There was nothing wrong with the guy, it just wasn't Wonwoo. He thought that maybe if she'd told him, he would've understood, would've been sad, but would've respected her decision, but no, she made her choice. Had she forgotten to break up with him beforehand? Was he just an afterthought? These were the questions that plagued Wonwoo's mind years after the fact. He had decided to confront her with what his brother had seen. Them together at a cafe, too close for comfort. What was saddest was her lack of denial. She didn't even fight back; fight for him. She had turned it around into his fault. As if he'd forced her hand. What broke Wonwoo more than the betrayal was the look of disdain in her eyes. It made him feel like maybe he was the villain. That maybe even if he tried, he just couldn't be loved in that way.

That's how he found himself in this situation. Two years past the five year long relationship, coming across another post detailing a theory of whether or not Wonwoo was still with his 'pre-debut girlfriend', as people liked to call her. He believed himself to be over the girl, but couldn't find himself to admit whether or not he was over the hurt. Only time would tell, he guessed.

"Come on, hyung. You can't stay here every time you have one of your episodes. It's been years, you have to move on!"

Mingyu was getting ready for another outing with his famous 97 squad; this time the attendees being Eunwoo, Jungkook, and Y/N. He was trying, yet again, to convince his elder of joining him and his friends. Maybe he wasn't a 97-liner, but he was well-liked by all the members of the group, and he figured the outing would do his friend some good, seeing as he was once again down in the dumps over his old girlfriend.

"I told you it's not that, Mingyu," responded Wonwoo, barely facing away from his computer, once again gaming during his very limited free time.

"Okay, if you're truly not sad about that anymore, then come out with us! It's been a while since you've even left the apartment, and you've never actually accepted any of my invites out! If you don't like it, we'll leave. It's all people you've already met anyways," reasoned, a very stubborn Mingyu.

"I don't actually know any of them, Gyu. Saying hello whenever they come visit you doesn't really count as knowing a person."

"Okay! Fine! What do you want? What do I have to give to get my best friend to hang out with me? Money? You're rich! What? You wanna play video games? They like video games, too! Come. On. Just this once."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, knowing his friend meant well, but not wanting to be around people while he had one of his usual slumps.

He pondered it for a minute. Maybe it'd be nice to be with other people like him. He'd never really made friends within the industry outside of the members and a few people he'd politely nod to as he walked the hallways of Hybe. Maybe it was time he broke out of his shell and befriended other people who would understand the loneliness that came with being an idol.

"Fine," he replied before his friend could hit him with another rebuttal to his denials. "Just this once."

Wonwoo didn't know what he was expecting any time Mingyu would bring up his outings with the 97's. With Mingyu's extroverted and eccentric personality, both in and out of the public eye, he assumed he meant clubbing or at least hitting up a pub. He wasn't sure what you or Jungkook or Eunwoo were into, but he assumed you'd be somewhat like Mingyu. But he couldn't have been more wrong.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that his loud friend's friends all had a very striking contrast to him. The three idols sitting around him in Eunwoo's (whose name was actually Dongmin, apparently) apartment all seemed very quiet and calm. Their personalities also all seemed to match his better than that of Mingyu's, which made him come to the realization that maybe that was how they'd all befriended each other; through the overgrown puppy's incessant need to befriend everyone in every room he walked into.

Wonwoo appreciated Mingyu, truly. His outgoing nature would sometimes make a shy guy like Wonwoo, who liked to keep himself as small as possible, a little uneasy at times, but be appreciated his best friend's constant aid in getting Wonwoo's mood up. Even now. He hated to admit it, but his sudden decrease in mood seemed to be rapidly disappearing thanks to the new change of environment.

He had quickly taken a liking to Mingyu's three friends.

Dongmin was nice and insightful. A pretty face and a very interesting mind. He saw a bit of himself in him.

Jungkook was polite and funny. He was the perfect balance of childhood friend and college heartrob.

You. Well, Wonwoo hadn't quite figured you out yet. Admittedly, this had been the first time you'd ever spoken past a polite greeting or an inquiry for Mingyu's whereabouts, but he had been able to get a read for the other two members of the group. You were the outlier.

What he knew, though, was that he liked you. Okay, not like that, but there was an easiness that you seemed to carry with you. You were simply easy for him to fall into conversation with. It had already been a few hours (and a few drinks) since Wonwoo and Mingyu had arrived to Dongmin's apartment, and you and Wonwoo had been engaged in ongoing conversation shortly after arriving. And the conversation didn't seem to be heading towards its end any time soon. It had begun as a group outing (well, indoors), but to Wonwoo it now felt like a one-on-one, as the three remaining members of the 97's seemed distracted on their own, leaving you and Wonwoo to converse with each other freely.

"Okay, yeah. That can be kind of annoying, but how can you complain about Mingyu?! He's such a sweet guy," you laughed, responding to one of the many lighthearted disses of Mingyu Wonwoo had been feeding you with.

"You don't have to live with him. He's even louder at home," he chuckled.

"Then move out! I live alone now, finally. I love my members, but there's nothing as nice as being alone after coming home from hectic schedules."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Can't do that, though. I don't really like being alone that much," he revealed.

"You? Really? Then how come it's taken Mingyu this long to get you out of the house?," you inquired, leaning towards him with interest.

That was something he liked about you immediately. You listened. You showed visible interest in what he had to say. Granted, none of the things you'd been talking about thus far were groundbreaking (so far you'd managed to speak of predebut stories, hopes for your respective groups, current hobbies, a few movie and book recommendations here and there, and endless other things), but he still appreciated someone outside of his family and members who showed interest in what he had to say. Still, part of him believed he might've been so starved for affection he could've just been reading too much into it.

"Oh," he chuckled. "He told you about that?"

"Fuck. Okay, don't tell him I said this. And I mean it, I trust you, Wonwoo," you paused. "He told us he'd been trying to get you out of the house a bit ... that you'd been feeling down."

Oh. Okay, now he felt a bit awkward. Why would Mingyu give opening for him to receive pity even from strangers?

"Oh. I-"

"So, I insisted he invited you come out with us."

Oh?

"You did? I .. How come?"

"Well. Honestly? I've been there. Having your members is great and all. And if you have a supportive family, that's even better. But our lifestyle's too isolated to not have as many people around us as we can. I don't know how I managed to navigate the industry before meeting Mingyu. He really took me under his wing and made sure I felt welcomed with the other 97's, even with all the shit he got for hanging out with a female idol so publicly."

So, that's how you'd met. Man, he's always known Mingyu as one of the nicest people he's ever met, but this truly made him take the cake. He remembered the articles that came out about both you him (and a few of the other 97-liners) when they'd made you the first female addition to the friend group. He didn't pay them much mind, seeing as dating rumours come by the dozens among idols, but he hadn't really stopped to think about how it might've affected you.

"Did he tell you about .. why I kept saying no?"

"No. And I didn't want to intrude. Your battles are your own, Wonwoo, unless you want to share them."

Well, fuck. He was wrong. Well, right. Both. You did care. You didn't even know him, but you still cared. Or at least it seemed like it. He couldn't really wrap his head around the concept. He hadn't let anyone in (other than his 12 brothers) about what had happened. He had never felt the need to. He felt embarrassed by it. I mean, it was just a break up; an old one no one even knew about. Yes, he got cheated on, but it had been years ago. He should be over it by now. Even though people kept bringing his ex up. But why did he feel like he could confide in you?

He considered it. Telling you, that is. But he quickly realized that was just the alcohol talking. You had just met. He didn't want to scare you away. Hmm. Maybe he should circle back on this thought at some point. He also didn't want to make you privy to the most embarrassing thing about him (the green room shenanigans did not hold a candle to his pathetic heartbreak story if he had anything to say about it). So, he decided to save it for another time. He'd already decided in his head that he'd want to see you again. Maybe he would take up Mingyu on his offer to join the 97's as an honorary member.

The conversation eventually circled back to something more lighthearted, allowing Wonwoo to enjoy your company for a few more hours before Mingyu decided it was time for them to leave, knowing his friends probably had busy days tomorrow, just like any idol would.

Wonwoo couldn't sleep. The effects of the alcohol were fully gone by now; his loose tongue tightened back up and his mood regulated once again. Despite that, his mind was still clouded with thoughts of you. He had originally chalked it up to alcohol, how he felt a strange sense of disappointed upon having to bid his goodbye to you earlier tonight. But, lying in bed many hours later, he realized it was all still in his head. Your long-winded conversation, the drinks you shared together, the genuine care in your eyes, even Mingyu's stupid smirk as they walked back into their apartment, muttering something along the lines of 'I knew you'd have fun'. It was all still running around in his head, depriving him of sleep. He felt an odd sense of anxiousness. Excitement, maybe? He wasn't sure. He was looking forward to finding out though.

The next day was filled with schedules. A quick appearance at a comeback show in the morning, followed by a fitting back at the Hybe building, along with a few hours of practice with the boys. He'd always enjoyed hectic days like this. While tiring, they kept his mind occupied, and allowed him to spend the day with some of the people he treasured the most. Seeing carats early in the morning was also a treat. Even if for only a few minutes, walking past the crowd of people waiting for his arrival at MNET was always nice. It made him put a face (well, multiple) to the people who loved him most.

He was now ending his day, just as soon as it had started, when he heard a voice call to him from across the long hallway. Turning around, he found ... you? you! what were you doing here?

"Wonwoo! Wait up!", you quickly caught up to him as he halted his movements in order to wait for you. You two then began walking together.

"Hey ? What are you doing here?"

You stopped. "Really? Wonwoo! I work here? My group's been here for a few months now, did you never notice? Hybe acquired my company last year," despite your shock at his ignorance, there was no actual anger or annoyance in your voice.

He felt kind of bad. You'd spent grand part of last night letting Wonwoo know how much attention you'd paid to Mingyu's retellings of Wonwoo's problems only for him to not know the most basic of things about you. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was with small details like this that his ex began to pull away.

"Oh, wait, Wonwoo. I'm not actually mad, I'm sorry. I just assumed you already knew," his face must've told on him. He had to admit that he was kind of paranoid after what had happened. He'd already ruined a few friendships (along with the relationship) with his lack of attention to the people around him. He didn't want to add you to the list of failed relationships so soon.

"Ah. Sorry. I don't really keep track of those things too often. I'm too distracted sometimes."

"I get you. There's too many new groups at Hybe for you to have noticed anyway. Anyways! Are you done for the day?"

He felt his heart accelerate at the thought of you wanting to know what his future whereabouts would be.

"Uh, yeah. I was heading home actually?"

"What? Nooo! Mingyu's taking Jungkook and I out to a little discreet pub he knows. You should come with. Please. They're so annoying when Dongmin's missing," you pleaded, making eyes at him.

You wanted him to come? You were inviting him? He hadn't really gone out for a few weeks (since he began to see people speak of his 'pre-debut ex-girlfriend' that everyone assumed was still in the picture). He had to admit, he found it kind of funny how carats would whine at the idea of him being taken. That was kind of the silver lining; a slight lift to his bad mood surrounding it. He-

"Wonwoo? It's okay if you don't wanna come. I don't wanna pressure you!"

Oh, shit. He was in his head again. He needed to break these habits if he wanted to work on his people skills.

"Oh, sorry. No, I was thinking of something else, sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, "I .. yeah, I'd love to come," he found himself agreeing.

Wonwoo was not an awkward man by any means. His fans and many others knew him as a charming guy, which he really was. He was just going through a weird period in his life. That and you made him nervous for some reason.

"Great,"you smiled back at him, further increasing the speed of his heart.

Wonwoo was extra exhausted after today's events, not being used to outings with people outside of his members after already tiresome days. For some reason, his social battery always drained almost immediately when around people he wasn't too familiar with, and tonight he'd chosen to spend the night at a pub full of strangers. But, hey, at least you were there.

Once more, you and Wonwoo found yourselves in one-on-one conversation. Although Mingyu had been slightly surprised to see his friend arrive with you at the selected meeting spot at the pub, he gave Wonwoo a knowing smile, glad to have his friend out of the house once again.

The goodbye was, again, dreadful for Wonwoo. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't usually someone to get attached so easily, but your name just called to his ever since that first time he met you. This time had worsened his condition. You drank together, exchanged numbers, maybe even flirted(?) a little, and then went your own ways, sharing a quick hug as you departed.

He hated to rush things (even if it was only in his head), but he had to admit to himself that he liked you. Yeah, like that. He felt like a teenager again; giddy at the thought of you, crushing on the pretty girl his friend introduced him to. He had unofficially sworn off dating two years ago when he broke up with her, but it wasn't like that was too big of an effort considering his dating market as an idol wasn't very expansive anyways. He also didn't want to assume things. You were just a friend. But you were also so pretty, and nice, and you had so much in common with him, you even shared a career! You were just his type, he realized. He wondered why you hadn't dated any of the 97's before. Wait, maybe you had a boyfriend. One Wonwoo, of course, wouldn't know about since you'd just met. Fuck. There he went again, letting his mind spiral over the smallest of things. He needed to give himself a break and just enjoy your friendship. Enjoy the good things he had instead of thinking of the bad. That had been a struggle lately.

You and Wonwoo continued to meet occasionally like that. Eventually meeting almost daily at the company. You'd stop by his practice room to hang out during work, and vice versa. He also found himself begging Mingyu to let him join in on his outings, wanting to see you even after work. He tried to be casual about it, but as soon as his smug friend realized the reason behind Wonwoo's sudden interest, he teased him endlessly about it, making jokes like 'But you're a 98-liner, why would you wanna hang out with us kids?,' a smirk glued to his face. He hadn't told Mingyu about his crush (nor would he ever admit to it), but Mingyu's correct assumption of his feelings for you led his friend to try and become a bit of a matchmaker. He'd now taken a habit to purposely leaving you and Wonwoo alone, even dragging his other friends away when they'd try and make conversation in order to get the two of you together. He was embarrassed by this, but was even more embarrassed that he was kind of thankful for his friend's actions.

Wonwoo had been enjoying the time he got to spend with you alone. Like now. Mingyu had invited you, Dongmin, Jungkook and Jaehyun over to his (and Wonwoo's place), something that didn't tend to happen before since Mingyu had wanted to respect Wonwoo's privacy. This was your first time here. Your first time in Wonwoo's room (door open, of course) as he showed you some of his recent photography that he'd told you about in your previous meeting. Once more, he felt like a teenager as he showed you his art, giddy at your endless compliments towards his talent.

"Jesus. So many idols pick up photography as a hobby, but I'd never seen any of them be actually good at it. Wonwoo, these are amazing!", he heard compliments like this from fans and staff alike very often, but it just had a different effect when it came from you.

He wanted to deny you; be bashful about it and chuckle a polite disagreement to your compliment, but after getting to know you better these past few weeks, he knew that wouldn't fly with you, instead opting for a shy 'thank you' in response.

"I'm serious, Wonwoo. You should do a showing or something! Your fans would love it. And .. you should teach me also!", he loved how enthusiastic you always were. It reminded him a lot of his best friend. Maybe that's why he liked the both of you so much.

He turned his head to face you as you sat next to him on his bed, lap to lap. He hadn't realized how close you had been sitting to one another in order to look at his laptop screen. Before he could scoot away, you turned your head too, now having only a few inches between your faces.

You looked at each other without saying anything, Wonwoo's breath hitching. Any reasonable man would've pulled you in for a kiss as soon as he noticed your eyes trail down to his lips, clearly inciting him to do so. But Wonwoo wasn't a very reasonable man. He was a mess of unreasonable emotions, which led him to his first mistake.

Seeing as he wasn't doing anything, you seemed to become frustrated at his lack of action, leaning in instead of him. Now, that would've been perfect if Wonwoo were, you know, normal. But the end result was less than favorable. As you leaned in, he panicked, getting up from the bed in a rush and creating a very obvious space between you. Your eyes widened, and he caught a hint of hurt and embarrassment behind them at his actions before you quickly took control of your expression.

"I, uhh. It's getting late. You have an early morning, don't you?", fuck, why the hell was he saying that?! Was he kicking you out? Wonwoo kicked himself in his mind, but his mouth kept running against his will. "I have an early morning, maybe you should, uh .."

He caught that hurt in your eyes once more as you responded. "Oh, I .. Right. Sorry .. Yes, I do, actually. I should go now .. Thanks for showing me your pictures. Have a nice night, Wonwoo," you were being far too cordial with him, seemingly making it a point of using overly formal language when the two of you had agreed before to speak casually; as friends.

He fucked it up. Again.

He watched you leave without stopping you. He had every chance to as you looked back at him one more time before exiting his room. He had another chance as he heard you close the front door to his apartment. He could've ran after you (even speed-walking would've sufficed, really), but he stood there like an idiot.

Wonwoo was right. He was incapable of love. Romantic love, at least. He still had many friends and a loving family back home, but he had been right to believe himself unlovable after his ex had left him. Turns out she was right. It was all his fault.

A few weeks had gone by since he last saw you. The text messages between you now unexistent, and the chance for reconciliation dying further every passing day. You hadn't tried to contact him after what happened, nor did you wait outside his practice room every day as you had taken a habit of doing a few weeks into your friendship. Mingyu's invites to hang out with his friends were now left unattended by Wonwoo, not wanting to sour your free time with your friends with his presence. He'd ruined everything, he admitted to himself. It was obvious to him and everyone else that your friendship had begun to blossom into something more. There had been hints here and there of your reciprocation of his feelings, but they terrified him, so he chose to ignore them.

He thought about his feelings, but not yours, he had come to realize a few days after the fact.

He had wanted to kiss you so badly. He'd dreamt about it, even. He felt silly to admit this, but you'd become such a constant in his life in such a short period of time that he found it easy to imagine you there forever now. He felt the same way he did back in high school when he believed himself to be in love with his ex. He realized now that those feelings for her had dissipated quickly after his debut. They'd only been together for so long due to the familiarity of it. Maybe that's why his ex had such a hard time breaking off things with him. Maybe that's why she chose to cheat on him instead. Maybe that familiarity was what made the situation such a mess in the first place.

He had gotten out of his slump thanks to you (and Mingyu, maybe), but now he had fallen right back into it, even worse this time.

It didn't take long for his roommate to notice his friend's absences in their outings, or the stark difference in his mood as soon as he got home every day from being an idol. Mingyu had the privilege (not really) of seeing how whatever happened between you took effect on the both of you. He saw his best friend fall back into his previous depressive state, while he saw you become a shell of yourself. He didn't know what happened, and he honestly didn't care. No one asked for his help, but he was going to give it anyways.

By some act of god, Mingyu was able to convince Wonwoo to leave their apartment long enough to participate in an upcoming outing once more. He had promised that the only other attendee would be Jungkook, as the plan was to have some drinks at the man's house. Other than you, Wonwoo had taken a special liking to Jungkook, having many things in common with him. Wonwoo had only agreed to attend in order to lessen any suspicion Mingyu may have had about the reason behind his current low mood, but he was also happy to see one of his new friends again.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, Mingyu was a meddler. He wasn't entirely sure why he was even surprised at seeing you walk across Jungkook's front door as he sat on one of his couches, drink in hand. An unsuspecting Jungkook let you in, not taking notice of your shocked face at spotting Wonwoo just a few meters away. Wonwoo should've known that Mingyu would get involved sooner or later. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed at his friend's nosy nature.

Despite your initial shock, you were polite with Wonwoo. You interacted as you used to before the two of you had gotten to know one another. Just a few nods and tight smiles. It killed him inside a little bit. He wanted to fix things; to at least get your friendship back even if he couldn't allow himself more. He would sneak glances at you as you joked and drank with your two friends, feeling a smile grace his face at your laughter. At least you were happy, he thought.

The four of you eventually ended up in one of Jungkook's many guest rooms. This one was a viewing room, as he called it. Special for whenever he wished to invite friends over for a movie. You all sat and shared some commentary at what was playing on screen. To any outsider, this would've looked like the perfect outing. And maybe it was to Mingyu and Jungkook. But the air between you and Wonwoo still felt tense, even despite the occasional nod of acknowledgement you'd make to one another whenever your eyes met.

In a very unpredictable turn of events, Mingyu had managed to get you and Wonwoo in a room alone, dragging Jungkook away under the excuse of doing an impromptu live for his fans. He knew Jungkook wouldn't miss the chance. You and Wonwoo sat next to each other in the now empty movie room, neither of you making a move. He saw you looking at your hands from his peripheral, solemn look on your face. You were usually very talkative and lively. He felt terrible at how his presence in your life had caused such a stark difference in your demeanor. So, he did what he usually wouldn't do, and spoke up first.

"I .. How have you been?"

Great way to break the silence, Wonwoo.

You sat in silence for a beat or two, "Wonwoo, it's fine. We don't have to do this. I'm already embarrassed enough as it is."

Embarrassed? Why would you be embarrassed?

"Embarrassed? At what?"

"Do I really have to say it? I thought I read things right. I thought maybe you might've maybe liked me back. I didn't .. I didn't mean to ruin our friendship over some stupid kiss.," you wouldn't look into his eyes as you spoke, even as he uncharacteristically stared at you with all his attention.

"You ... You didn't do anything wrong. I should've talked to you. Fuck. I should've apologized. I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean. I panicked. It was so soon. I didn't want to pressure you," he had gotten up now, now sitting next to you on the couch.

"Pressure me? I kissed you. Well, tried to ..." you finally turned to look at him in his new proximity. Okay, progress, "I'm sorry, I kind of had an idea of what you were going through and still pushed you. It hurt me that you froze me out like that, but if it was what you felt like you needed to do, then I understand," you said with a sad smile that didn't meet your eyes.

God, why were you so understanding? He felt like an asshole. He was an asshole. Freezing you out was not something he wanted to do to you, but the result of his cowardice. He knew he had hurt you, but your admission to it only made him feel worse.

"You didn't do anything wrong! You- you did what I wanted to do that night. What I was going to do before I backed out like a coward. I wish I'd handled things differently. I wish I'd kissed you .. I-" he was beginning to feel shy at his almost-direct admissions of his feelings towards you, but he needed to continue. He was going to continue, but you had different plans.

As per usual, you knew him better than he did himself. You knew exactly how to salvage the situation without making him open up more than he felt comfortable with doing in his current emotional state. You grabbed his face, interrupting his speech, and ..

You kissed him.

"Like that?", you'd softly asked against his lips.

It was nothing like you'd see in movies. Just a small peck accompanied by your soft hands holding onto his cheeks.

You began to pull away almost immediately, too soon for Wonwoo's comfort. But that kiss had been enough for him to finally snap into action like he should've done weeks ago.

He grabbed you this time, pulling your lips against his again, putting much more into the kiss this time.

He'd never kissed someone like this. He'd kissed many people after his breakup. Hell, he'd done far more than kissing. But none of those moments held a candle to this one. Nothing compared to your soft moans against his lips, or the feeling of your pliant back against his palm. Nothing defeated the feeling of your hands restlessly looking for a place in his body to hold on to. He kissed you with every emotion that had been piling up since you two began to really get to know each other. No, since he first began to spiral into his depressive state. There was not a single emotion in Wonwoo's body that didn't go into that kiss.

Then came other stuff.

Wonwoo hadn't really thought about the sexual aspects of his attraction to you. Other than a few of the restless nights spent alone in his room, you in mind. As he kissed you, however, he couldn't help but begin to feel aroused. You were so pretty and so so soft against his arms. You had both begun to lean down, with his body hovering over yours, holding his body weight above you as not to crush you. You kissed mindlessly for a few minutes, at some point beginning to moan messily against each other's mouths.

Your tongue eventually came out to play with his, making him lightheaded at the sudden wetness of the kiss. You both began to feel dizzy, arousal clouding your minds. Wonwoo tried to pull away, wanting to confirm if what was happening was okay with you, but you wouldn't let him. Instead you pulled him even closer, forcing him all the way on top of you, your crotches now face to face. He decided to take the risk and begin a slow grind against you, which proved rewarding as you began to mewl against his lips, allowing his tongue to roam freely inside your mouth.

Then came even more stuff.

"Wo-wonwoo, please."

God, there was no way he would make it if that's how you sounded after just some light dry humping.

He managed to actually unglue himself from you this time; eyes lidded and breath heavy.

"Baby .. let me .. can I?", he questioned, hands approaching your nether area.

You grabbed his wrist, walking him the rest of the way, nodding desperately as you pressed his hand against your clothed cunt.

"Please, yes. I need you."

He undid the drawstring from your sweats, you aiding him in lowering your sweats just below your ass.

He neared you as much as possible as he began to rub your cunt over the thin fabric of your panties, kissing and biting at your neck as you mewled at the friction. He did this for a while until he decided to bury two of his fingers inside your cunt, making sure to rub your clit lightly with his thumb. He calculated his movements, wanting to go for a slow and steady pace that would have you lightheaded.

You moaned and whined at that, your body not knowing what to do at the pleasure Wonwoo was giving you.

He began to speak against your neck, praising your beauty and the way you oh so prettyly cried for him.

"Wonwoo .. oh, fuck Wonwoo please. Please ..." he wasn't sure what you were begging for, but he wanted more of it. So he sped up, wanting nothing more than to hear your cries of pleasure as he fingered you to completion.

Upon meeting your high, you disconnected from one another, still holding a very close proximity as you shyly smiled at each other. He helped you clean up the slight mess you had made on the couch under you, pulling your sweats all the way back up and helping you get on your feet. Neither of you said anything as he guided you out of Jungkook's apartment, not bothering to say goodbye to your friends. You both knew what you wanted with just a few looks at one another.

You then found yourselves in Mingyu's car. How Mingyu was going to get home, Wonwoo didn't know nor care. Payback for meddling, Wonwoo guessed. All he wanted now was to take you home and show you how much you meant to him.

He had his left hand on the wheel while the other held your hand over the console. You both felt giddy at the small displays of affection you'd been showing each other, sharing shy smiles and blushing at catching the other staring. It was kind of funny considering your current destination. It was all mostly wordless until your fast arrival to Mingyu and Wonwoo's shared apartment, where you both finally stopped to speak before entering the door.

"Wonwoo, wait," you stopped him before he was able to put his key in the lock.

"What's wrong?"

You seemed uneasy. Maybe this was too soon? Had he gone too far by what he did in Jungkook's house? Fuck. Okay, maybe fingering you in your friend's house while your friends were in the other room right after confessing to you (did he even confess ??) wasn't the best idea for a reconciliation. Maybe he should'v-

"Are you sure about this? I .. I don't wanna pressure you ..."

You were far too considerate of his feelings for his own good. But he didn't care about his feelings right now. He cared about yours. Because if you were happy, then he was happy. He just wanted you.

He turned his body to face you, grabbed both of your hands and squeezed lovingly. He no longer felt that sense of anxiousness when speaking his feelings to you. He felt at ease, and he wanted you to also.

"I'm sure. I want you. Anything you'll give me. If you want to go past that door and just let me hold your hand, I'll take it. If you want me to drive you back home, I'll do it. If you want to tell me off for making you wait for me to grow the balls to show you how I felt, I'll understand that too. Forget about my pace. It's been enough about me. I want to think about you. It's all about you," he finished his little speech feeling not an ounce of bashfulness, but rather an uncharacteristic sense of relief. He felt more than content at freely telling you how he was feeling.

You smiled up at him. "It's always about you for me, Wonwoo."

It took a bit of convincing from you, really. Repeating over and over again pleas and words of affirmation to ease his mind. He felt bad. He did say this was all about you. Which is why he'd insistently denied you when you first walked across the door, hand in hand, and immediately begged to suck his dick. He was caught off guard at first. He wanted to take care of you for once, not the other way around. You'd argued that he already had, insisting that he'd be doing you a favour by letting you get his cock in your mouth. Now, that .. that had gotten an involuntary reaction out of him. He couldn't help himself. You were a pretty girl - now his pretty girl - practically begging to get his dick wet. Batting your eyelashes at him and running your hands up and down his chest, muttering words such as "you'll let me take care of you, won't you?", or "i just wanna make you feel good," or his favorite "just a little bit, baby, want it so bad. been dreaming about it .."

That's how he now had you on your knees as he stood with his back against his front door, hands holding your hair out of your face as you tortured him with your tongue. You had prepared him by rubbing his dick for a minute or so, then moving onto kitten licking his tip and running your tongue ever so slowly up and down the protruding veins. You were taking your time, clearly enjoying his stuttered breaths above you.

You finally wrapped your mouth around him, sucking and licking at the tip, making all thought in his mind leave him immediately. He threw his head back against the wall at the pressure and warmth of your mouth, groaning out your name.

"Fuck .. just like that. Shit, I-fuck," there was no proper sentence that could leave his mouth as you fully enveloped his cock in your mouth, moaning around it.

Then he made the mistake of looking down, staring directly into your eyes, which were rolled back in pleasure, brows furrowed in concentration as you gave him your best performance. He hadn't known pleasure like this in ages, staring down at your pretty face as you lost yourself in the pleasure of the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You continued like this, doing everything that seemed to get a reaction out of him until drawing him almost to completion.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum. You gotta- fuck. Baby, wait. Wanna fuck you ..." he tried to stop you, not wanting to cut the night short before he could get you as close as physically possible to him, your walls warmly wrapped around him. The thought did not help matters, as he felt his end approach even sooner. You also did not seem to care, as you fastened your movements and moaned even louder against him, vibrations triggering his impending orgasm. You swallowed every bit he gave you, humming at the taste.

You must be evil, he thought, watching you continue to lightly suck and lick at him even past completion, not caring that he half-heartedly tried to push you away from the slight overstimulation. When you finally pulled away, he held your hands in order to get you back up to your full height, eyes glued to your lips. He couldn't help himself. He felt depraved at the thought, but he needed to taste you and the remnants of himself twirling in your tongue. So he did what any sensible man would do, and shoved his tongue in your mouth, intertwining yours and his as he sucked his remaining juices out of your mouth and gave them back to you as he dragged your tongue back and forth. You moaned loudly into his mouth, growing restless at the lack of pleasure where you needed him most.

You pulled away, and wordlessly gave him eyes that could only mean one thing. Your eyes always got to him. One look and he'd give you whatever you wanted, so he promptly held your hand once more and led you to his room, laying you down on his bed and slowly undressing you. He wanted to savour every part of your body he'd been dying to see. Every article of clothing he removed, he caressed the skin behind. He faced you away from him and felt you up from behind, running his hands up and down your body as you pressed yourself even more against him, dizzy at the pleasure of his hands against you. He fondled your breasts and ass, wanting to commit them to memory. You moaned at the way he touched you, enticing him to continue. After a while of worshiping your body, he laid you back down, your body now facing him, and undressed himself.

He felt a strong sense of pride at the moan the sight of his bare chest pulled out of you. Your hands drew themselves towards him as you ran them up and down his chest, forming goosebumps anywhere your fingertips graced. He finally lowered himself down and pressed your chests together, wanting to be as close as possible.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, as if it was a secret no one could ever know, "You're all mine now. Never letting you go again", he began to grind his bare length against you, now hard again against your folds.

You whined at his actions, mind clouded by his words of affection. "Nonu ... please. I need it. Need you, just- Argh! Fuck ..." he swiftly entered you, interrupting your pleas for him.

God, you felt so tight and warm around him. Your body so pliant and soft against his. He had never felt more bliss than when you arched your back and pressed your tits against his chest, harshly digging your nails on his shoulders as you moaned out his name.

Pleasure overtook his mind, making him wax poetic at you endlessly, letting out his deepest of feelings for you.

"Want you always. Can't breathe without you."

"Never wanna be away from you again. You're everything."

"Gonna keep you ... keep you close to me. Just like this ..."

Then came something not even he expected himself to utter.

"L-love you. Fuck. So much. Is it too soon? I love you. Never felt like t-fuck .. like this before."

His words seemed to have an instant effect on you, as you tightened impossibly harder around him, crying his name as your orgasm suddenly hit you. The tightening of your walls, along with knowing the effect he had on you, brought Wonwoo to his end almost immediately after, claiming his orgasm on your stomach as he pulled out with a high whine of your name.

A few minutes of cleaning you up later and Wonwoo found the both of you under his covers, you laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around one another, softly running his hands up and down your arm. No words exchanged between the two of you.

As per usual, you broke the silence, turning yourself to face his side while still in his hold. He mirrored your actions, holding you even closer as you stared into each other's eyes, shy smiles on your faces.

"I love you too. It's not too soon. I love you, Wonwoo."

Your words took his breath away once more. What he had confessed in the throes of passion was being reciprocated. He hadn't shared the three words with anyone ever since his break up. His breakup, which had been the furthest thing from his mind ever since he had realized his feelings for you.

You fell asleep like that; holding each other tightly and muttering words of affection at each other every so often until sleep won you over. Wonwoo had never had such peaceful sleep, having never had the pleasure of holding someone he cared so much about in his sleep.

The news broke out quickly. Not to the public, of course, but to Mingyu, who had found you in bed the next morning when he'd noticed your absences last night, rushing home worried that maybe his plan to get you two to talk had backfired. Safe to say that Mingyu smugly took credit over your reconciliation (he might've deserved maybe a 15% of the credit). Then the news broke out to the 97 liners, who happily welcomed Wonwoo back into the group under the name of honorary 97-liner. Then his group mates found out, along with yours. They were all very accepting, having noticed your feelings for one another before you even did. Finally, the news broke out to your shared company. This was the trickiest one, but your insistence in the validity of your love for one another was able to triumph over any obstacles.

It had now been a few months since that fateful night, the words I love you being uttered between the two of you daily. Even as you worked your busy idol schedules and had distance put between you every once in a while, your relationship prospered, giving Wonwoo a new sense of what being loved truly was. He no longer felt like his ex had been right about him being unlovable. You had taught him to know better, while he showed you the same care in return.

Wonwoo no longer winced at the mentions of his 'pre-debut girlfriend', but even laughed along at the memes his fans made about their favorite idol being taken. Now knowing that, yes, he was taken, but had something even better now; you.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #svt #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut

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levshany · 1 year ago

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Tandem, this is an AU in which the Collector possesses Philip, and there are a lot of things happening afterwards. but now we’ll just retell how it basically started

@angstyhikka drew a couple of arts and helped me with coloring

This is an alternative development of events after the ending of the fanfic “At The Dawn of The Light” (it's not finished yet, but there is already an AU from the ending, yes). The idea belongs to @lasymit, and I (Lev) picked it up :3

Before King's Tide, all events take place according to canon. And then the following changes occur: the witches capture Philip and lock him in a cave in the Titan's skull. The draining spell is stopped without the help of the Collector, but he himself is not found. His mirror remains lying at the bottom of the pit.

For 10 years, Philip was under a sleeping spell. Everything would be fine, but when the Hexside squad wakes up Philip to make him help them with one super important problem, not only does he become mischievous but he also has problems in his head now. Luz and the team think that Philip is manipulating them (you can't blame them for this, Philip is Philip, even with a leaky memory and a leaking roof, he manages to be such an asshole), and therefore they torture him to force him to cooperate with them.

While Philip was sleeping, a cozy corner appeared in his head, in which there was nothing but a green hill, a small house and an apple tree. There, Philip, in his child form, lives with Caleb, who is a figment of his sick mind. During his 10 years in this mindscape, Philip convinced himself that this was reality. And the Boiling Isles, the cave and the witches who torture him are an endless nightmare. Because, on the Boiling Isles, he sometimes remembers that he killed his brother. But this simply cannot be reality.

At some point, Luz and Hunter realize that Philip is not pretending that he is seriously ill and no matter how much he denies it, he needs help, and they soften towards him somewhat. Although both have rather mixed feelings towards their dementia grandpa.

Even in the moments when Philip remembers himself fully enough, his attitude towards the Boiling Isles, Luz, Hunter and even his own mission has changed greatly in any case. He no longer cares about the destruction of witches and revenge for his brother. Philip is tired. Deadly tired. All he wants to do is sleep. He slept for ten years, and this was perhaps the first time in decades of his life that he felt peace and happiness.

While he is in this state, it happens that he encounter the Collector. This is a difficult meeting for both of them, but it all ends with the forgiveness of all grievances. They both don't want to lose each other now. The collector is still locked in the disk, but Philip has the opportunity to let his friend into his subconscious. Seeing the deplorable state of Philip's mind, he decides that he must help - after all, Philip is still his only friend. Collie asks Philip not to go to "sleep" forever, but Philip replies that he has no joy in waking up here. All he dreams of is never returning to the world of the Boiling Islands. The collector, frightened that his only friend is about to leave him, possesses Philip and promises him that he will get them both out of this nightmare.

This is how Tandem's story begins

a huge amount of detail has been omitted to avoid spoilers for "The Dawn". if you wanna learn more go check the fanfic *wink wink*

#by the way their name is Colibri #toh #the owl house #toh tandem au #phillip wittebane #toh phillip #toh collector #collector possess #toh colibri #toh tandem #my comic #my art

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick?

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson.

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization.

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses.

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room.

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip.

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow.

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair.

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast?

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered.

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind.

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window.

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes.

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge.

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword.

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight.

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air.

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night.

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.”

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you.

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin.

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass.

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal.

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact.

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time.

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie.

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration.

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside.

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful.

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost?

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less.

Your own family had never been so generous.

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity.

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat.

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.”

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.”

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night.

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned.

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?”

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.”

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges.

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees.

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow.

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?”

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.”

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.”

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground.

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets.

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other.

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched.

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down.

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly.

Relentlessly.

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding.

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion.

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.”

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh.

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.”

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight.

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain.

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?”

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?”

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?”

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests.

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist.

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.”

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily.

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.”

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.”

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about.

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies.

You’d be found out in no time.

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?”

Can and not do.

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals.

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that.

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips.

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?”

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past.

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains.

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you.

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge.

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell.

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?”

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.”

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot.

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief.

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences.

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools.

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron.

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds.

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes.

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers.

There was no running from this.

“Okay,” you whisper.

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borathae · 1 month ago

Text

↳ Index [Day 03 - Cum]

Pairing: Rough Dom!Yoongi x Needy sub!Taehyung

Genre: Vampire!Yoongi, Vampire!Taehyung, Magic!AU

Kinks: accidental consumption of a lust potion which has very fateful consequences, monster fucker smut, anything and everything cum, cum eating, using cum as lube, multiple creampies, cum being everywhere, blowjob, deep-throating, rough face fucking, unnaturally long tongues, spit, hair pulling, sloppy rimjob, rough spontaneous anal sex against the bathroom sink, choking with the monster tongue around Tae’s neck :), biting, mirror sex in a sense, dirty talk, praise, subby boy tears, multiple orgasms, gentle and nurturing aftercare

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: this was requested by me :) listen. i was ovulating as i wrote this. this is not at all canon JFASDJF but what if it was?? what if they were actually alone one day and did that?? what if they agree to never ever fucking mention it again?? no but in reality, this is definitely not canon, i just wanted to make them fuck violently :) and what better opportunity for that than kinktober aka the most unhinged time on this blog where everything is allowed?

Yoongi thought that he will surprise you by cleaning your wing. He has already managed to go through your living room and the hallways and is now busy in your magic kitchen.

Yoongi really wanted to be helpful, nothing else. So when he drops one of your potions accidentally and inhales its fumes, he knows that he fucked up. A lust potion. One which is meant to be consumed carefully because getting too much of it in one’s system bears uncontrollable consequences. You made it with the help of one of Taehyung’s many sex magic books and were planning to use it in future sessions with your lovers. One drop of it, to be more exact. One fucking drop is enough. It is so strong in fact that not even Yoongi, the strongest of the supernatural creatures, is immune to it. And he fucking inhaled the entire bottle of it.

Yoongi groans and throws his hand over his nose, but too late, the magic is doing its job. His eyes are hazy, his vision blurry, his head dizzy. He tries to flee, but every step he takes aches. Sex. Sex. Cum. Sex. Cum. His thoughts are reduced to two words. His cock is so hard, his balls suddenly so heavy that his pants hurts. He rips the clothes, leaving a trail of wet desperation as he claws his way out of your kitchen. He stumbles from side to side as he tries to leave your wing, gasping for fresh air in hopes of clearing his lungs.

He needs help. His ears are ringing. It is as if he was high on five different drugs. And every drug wants him to fuck. Fuck. He needs sex. He needs to fuck.

Your bedroom. Your scents just make it worse. Yoongi moans and groans as he drags himself to the bathroom. You aren’t home right now. As a matter of fact, nobody is home because you all went on a trip to the coast.

Yoongi is all alone. And he needs help. Otherwise he might rip this whole room to shreds.

Maybe a shower will help. He tears the shirt off his body and collapses into the shower, turning on the freezing water with his last remaining clarity. The water hurts on his skin, Yoongi is panting as he takes it, forehead resting against the cold tiles while his heavy cock leaks on the floor. It doesn’t help. His cock stays hard, his bloodstream is drugged up. Yoongi blacks out.

The next moments are unable to be put onto paper because Yoongi has no recollection of them and this author must use this moment to apologise. A lie had been spread. There was one other person home during the time Yoongi accidentally drugged himself. Taehyung.

Taehyung was clear in the head and planned on going for a stroll in the forest to move his stiffened body after a very captivating painting session. Taehyung was very close to leaving the estate when his ears picked up on very worrying sounds. Yoongi whimpering in pain. Such noises, Taehyung has never heard from him before.

“Hyung”, he gasps and runs off to your wing. He considers calling you first, but then is too busy being worried. And his phone was upstairs. Too much time would have been wasted.

He breaks through your door, calling out Yoongi’s name.

He doesn’t answer him, but the tortured noises remain. They come from your bedroom. Did he fall and hurt himself? Perhaps he fell on a stake and now struggles to get it out.

Taehyung takes off his shoes by the door, because he still had manners, and hurries to the bedroom. It is empty. The bathroom door is open. The noises come from it.

“Hyung! What’s the matter?” He hurries to it. “What happ-”

Taehyung quite frankly loses the abilities to properly function. The view before him is way too unbelievable.

Yoongi is in front of the sink mirror, body wet from the shower and completely naked. He is covered in his own cum, as is the sink and the counter. Puddles of it had formed on the floor as well. His eyes spill tears. His huge hand is around his completely grown vampire cock and to top it all off, it is very obvious that he had his own fingers in his ass before Taehyung crashed into the room.

“Leave!” Yoongi screams. His voice is distorted in agony, bouncing off the walls.

“I, I”, Taehyung stutters, pressing his hand to his own crotch to hide the instant boner the view and scents give him. He is scared for his life. He knows how much Yoongi values privacy and this is beyond an invasion of it. “I am so sorry. I believed that you hurt yourself I, shit, I’m leaving already.”

“Wait, no.”

Taehyung turns, gulps.

Yoongi is staring at him with glassy helpless eyes. His hand is moving around his cock as if he had no control over it. Taehyung feels dizzy. He is watching his very private friend jerk off as if it was normal to do.

“I can’t stop cumming”, Yoongi gets out and tenses up as another orgasm shakes him, “help me please”, he whimpers, eyes crossing and cock squirting white cream on the tiles behind the sink.

“Are you out of your mind? What do you mean?!” Taehyung exclaims, feeling as if he was going crazy. Is he in the wrong movie? Yoongi is currently orgasming mere five feet from him and begging him for help.

“Argh!” Yoongi gets out, convulsing in the aftershocks with wobbly legs. He hits the sink, gritting his exposed fangs. He is panting and growling, trying to get the words out like this. “I poisoned myself. Argh. One of her lust potions from your stupid fucking sex books.”

“Why would you do this to yourself? Oh heavens.”

“Cause I get off to it. No you motherfucker, it was an accident. Urgh fuck please not again”, he growled at first but then whimpers as he releases into the sink another time. He grabs the edge of the counter, opening his mouth so widely that Taehyung can watch the acid drip from his fangs. Dizzy, he looks at his cock next. The cum Yoongi spills is thick and aggressively white, spilling out of him in huge globs and sticking to the furniture in slimy strings.

“Why is it so thick? It is as if you are ejaculating slime, hyung” Taehyung gasps, knowing that Yoongi won’t be able to answer him.

“Are you going to help me or not, you bastard?” Yoongi spits to his surprise.

“I, I mean if you are asking me to”, Taehyung stutters and closes the distance. He falls to his knees before Yoongi, moaning when his legs get soaked in the puddles of cum.

“What-”

Yoongi never gets to finish his sentence. Yoongi instead gets his cock buried deep in Taehyung’s throat as the younger vampire sucks eagerly.

Yoongi screams up, throwing his head back and gripping Taehyung’s dark locks. He stumbles, almost falling to his knees if Taehyung hadn’t grabbed his buttocks with such vigour. He begins bopping his head up and down on his huge cock, gurgling happily from the heavy girth in his throat.

Yoongi climaxes instantly, screaming Taehyung’s name and twisting his hair. Not that the mention of this orgasm is important. On the contrary, it is rather useless, because Yoongi feels just as horny afterwards than he did before. Maybe with his balls a little lighter, but his head is still incredibly drugged.

Taehyung swallows every single glob of Yoongi’s thick cum. It drags itself down his throat, covering every inch of his insides and coating his stomach. It warms him, making him crave more. Taehyung slips off and concentrates his sucks on Yoongi’s engorged tip. He slurps hungrily, swirling his tongue as quickly as possible. His veins are swollen, throbbing under his tongue.

“You’re fucking insane. Fuck, ah”, Yoongi growls, staring down at Taehyung. “Look at me.”

Taehyung obeys, eyes so very submissive as he looks up at Yoongi.

“Lilac is your safeword. Think it and I’ll stop.”

“Yes…Master.”

“Fuck, shut the fuck up”, Yoongi spits and forces his mouth onto his cock.

Taehyung mewls and gurgles, tilting his head back as Yoongi fills his throat out.

“Are you okay?”

Taehyung nods his head, showing Yoongi that he wasn’t made of glass by moving his hips for him. Tears leave his eyes, but he doesn’t gag. He simply moans and clenches his throat around his heavy length.

“You crazy fucking bastard”, Yoongi moans and picks up a punishing speed instantly, drilling Taehyung’s pretty face as if he hated it. “Take it. Fucking take it.”

But he doesn’t hate his face. He sees salvation in his ethereal features. It feels so good to fuck it. His hand could have never felt this way. Taehyung’s lips move and stretch around his girth, his throat bulges to make space.

“Shit, you’re looking so good with cock in your mouth. I hope you get your pretty face fucked regularly. Mhm? Do they fuck your dripping mouth hole regularly?” Yoongi is talking complete shit, tongue loose in an intense drug trip.

And Taehyung loves. He loves it so much that he wets his pants in excitement and feels his eyes cross a little. He moans around Yoongi’s cock, tilting his head back further in a willingness to completely become his’.

“Yeah you know you look good, don’t you. Urgh! Urgh, fuck argh it’s not helping-ah!’ Yoongi growls and orgasms again, throwing his head back as he fucks his cum deep down Taehyung’s throat.

Taehyung expected it, but still ends up having to gag from it. It is so much, he can barely keep up with swallowing, being forced to his luck as Yoongi makes sure the only thing he’ll have in his stomach today was his cream. Taehyung’s cries, scratching down Yoongi’s thighs in desperate search for support. It draws blood but heals instantly.

“I’m sorry Tae, I’m sorry”, Yoongi whimpers as his cock squirts cum against his will.

Taehyung mewls and shakes his head, dragging his big hands up the back of Yoongi’s legs until he reaches his hips. His hugs them, pressing his face into his pubes while his mouth still carries his heavy cock.

He can take more. Yoongi’s cum is so sweet, although much, it is so sweet. Taehyung feels droopier by the second, craving more of it like an addict having a relapse.

“Tae ah!” Yoongi slows down after his high but only because he is too weakened from it. He uses Taehyung’s head to support himself on it, hips shaking as Taehyung sucks on his cock loudly. “I can’t stop, it’s so painful”, he gets out, almost sobbing the words.

Taehyung puts distance between their bodies, mouth leaking cum as he speaks.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi answers him, eyes taking in the view hungrily. Taehyung’s lips are so puffy and pink. His face is so messy in sticky cum. It somehow managed to get in his hair as well.

Taehyung sticks two of his fingers into his own mouth, coating them in the cum he still has sticking to his gums. Once they are slick in it, he exchanges them for Yoongi’s cock, guiding them to Yoongi’s ass. He applies pressure, slipping them into his tight hole. He instantly finds his prostate, rubbing it vigorously as he begins moving his throat on Yoongi’s cock.

Yoongi bends his own body into unnatural positions, writhing standing up and screaming silently. He is submerged in painful fire and Taehyung just made it worse. Or better. He can’t decide. He cums again, spilling down Taehyung’s throat to the point his stomach is starting to get a little bloated from all the cum he has to keep inside.

Taehyung takes it gladly, dimpling Yoongi’s hip with his other hand while he fingers his hole quickly. He is going crazy. Yoongi is so soft inside. So tight. And warm. Holy fuck, he is fingering his hole. Not even in his nastiest dreams would Taehyung have dared to imagine such a thing and yet here he is. He curls his fingers deeper, listening to Yoongi’s desperate noises.

“Again, argh!”

It feels too good. This is so good. This is the sex the poison craves. The skilled touch of another. Yoongi swears he fucking kisses the very creator of the univesre herself as he climaxes in Taehyung’s mouth. Both hands are gripping his head while his hips pound into him in search of sweet relief.

And then something happens. Relief. There is actual relief after the high.

“Stop it, stop”, Yoongi croaks, pulling him off his cock with little effort. Taehyung slips out of his ass, gazing up at him. His nose is snotty and burns because Yoongi came so hard the last time that it went out through his nose. His eyes are crying. His stomach feels like bursting.

Yoongi touches him. It is gentle and nurturing. Taehyung feels taken aback by it, but melts into it nonetheless.

“You’re actually fucking mad.”

Taehyung tries to answer him but has to come to the conclusion that Yoongi fucked his vocal chords raw. Thankfully he is a quick healer.

Yoongi pulls Taehyung to his feet, forehead falling against his’ and dirty hands cradling his equally as dirty face. Taehyung melts into the affection with closed eyes, breathing heavily.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Yoongi whispers, voice deep and raspy.

“You wanted my help”, Taehyung whispers as well, voice just as deep and raspy.

“Yes, as in getting an antidote, not throat fucking my cock and fingering my ass.”

“This was the antidote, hyung. I’m your antidote.”

Yoongi bares his fangs, fighting against his instincts of dragging his long tongue up Taehyung’s face. Taehyung watches it, head pounding from the high he currently finds himself on. Who knew that enchanted Creator cum is so intoxicating. He hasn’t felt that high ever since the last blood orgie he had years ago. Taehyung is currently floating on cloud nine.

Yoongi suddenly groans and scrunches his face, touching roughening on Taehyung.

“Not done?”

“No, urgh fuck. Fuck Tae, leave. I can’t promise your safety anymore.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Tae, I’m dangerous.”

“I know, I tasted it. It’s still in my stomach, feel it.” He presses Yoongi’s hand to his stomach, making him feel the sticky liquid move around. “I’m so bloated with your cum, hyung. I feel fucking high.”

“Urgh Tae”, Yoongi growls, squeezing his head painfully. “Tae leave.”

Taehyung however shakes him off and pushes at his chest, giving himself enough space to rip off his ruined clothes. Yoongi moans at the view, blackened eyes staring at his exposed cock. It is huge and throbbing, leaking cum as if he was enchanted himself.

“I can’t leave like this. I can take it, hyung. I’m not as fragile as you all think me to be”, Taehyung says and turns around. He bends over the sink, reaching behind himself to spread open his ass and therefore reveal his willing hole to Yoongi.

Yoongi swears the view almost brings him to his knees so he could bury his tongue into the deepest depths of Taehyung’s insides. He fights the voices, twisting his own hair for it.

“No. No, I’ll hurt you.”

“I will heal. I can take it.”

“Taehyung, just leave.”

“Please hyung, you don’t have to be scared of yourself. We’re both monsters.”

Yoongi meets Taehyung's exposed face in the reflection. They are both monsters. Taehyung is okay with it.

He can’t hold back anymore. He growls and drops to his knees. He can’t take Taehyung unprepared. He is poisoned and not clear in the head, but his refusal to be a source of pain to his friend is stronger than any drug. He promised him to never cause him agony again and means it. He will still fuck his ass, don’t be mistaken, first he simply needs to give in to the voices in his head and stick his tongue into Taehyung’s hole.

Because he is drooling like an animal, it is an easy task to fill him. He wastes no time holding back. He is a monster and Taehyung is the very last person who would want him to hide parts of himself. Yoongi knows how he treats Jungkook, how he gets off to his Ripper nature. He feels confident in letting himself go as well. He doesn’t even let go to such length when he is with you, mostly because your pussy has limits when it comes to depth. There are no limits to the depths of Taehyung’s ass and so Yoongi buries his long, slimy tongue deep inside his walls, moving it like a wiggling tentacle.

Taehyung, who up until now has never experienced such a sensation before, reacts accordingly. He screams, which he never does when he gets fucked. He writhes in fleeing, but has to realise that this only makes Yoongi’s tongue grow more to make up for the space created. Taehyung, who is greedy for a stuffing, moves back again, taking the new girthy inches. He still continues to scream, shaking out of control.

Yoongi growls, finding his satisfaction in the deepest creases of Taehyung’s tight insides. There is nothing better than filling out something so tight. It is so useless for vampires. Its once human purpose long gone. Yoongi is going to give it a new purpose today. He is going to reach parts no other person has ever reached before.

“Hyung please, ple-please”, Taehyung begs in fear, reaching for Yoongi’s hair. The latter simply growls and punishes him with a hard thrust of his tongue, fingers gripping his hand to instead press it to his own stomach. He picks up an angry pace with his tongue, forcing Taehyung to feel how his stomach gets filled with it.

Taehyung’s eyes cross and stay like this, his fangs grow, his own tongue drips drool. He can’t scream anymore. He can only squeak and try to breathe. He is no stranger to feeling his belly bulge, but this is something different. Something so carnal and sinful that even Taehyung feels as if he did something forbidden. But he is a sinner and sinners get off to the forbidden. Something about Yoongi’s saliva makes every inch it touches aware that it was being touched. Taehyung has never felt penetration so deep inside his guts before. It was also never that wet before, that wriggly and fast.

“You are making me climax”, Taehyung sobs, hoping that Yoongi would pull out and edge him. But there is no hope left for him. Yoongi makes him climax so deep inside that Taehyung actually sees black for a while. He screams his throat raw then begins begging to please be released of it. Yoongi growls and grants him the wish, pulling his tongue out. Taehyung cries, legs shaking and body convulsing. He feels every inch, feels how his wriggly thick tongue slips out of him. It is so quick and rough and never ending. By the very end of it, once his tip slips out, Taehyung actually collapses onto the sink in relief, standing on his tiptoes and flinching repeatedly as his gaped hole leaks Yoongi’s thick saliva. He can’t think straight. Taehyung has never felt this way before. His insides have never been cleaned so far up. He should want no more, but he does. Yoongi’s saliva is poisoning him in the most sinful of ways. He wants to be filled again.

Yoongi stands up, dragging his long tongue up Taehyung’s sweaty spine. He wraps it around his neck, using it to tug him up. Taehyung gurgles and sobs, burning eyes staring at their reflection. Yoongi’s true face is staring back at him, his red tongue is wrapped around Taehyung’s neck multiple times. Something in his eyes however is being kind to him, asking him if he could continue. Taehyung sobs miserably and reaches behind himself with trembling hands so he could align Yoongi’s cock with his hole. Yoongi growls, tongue tightening around his neck and eyes darkening. He takes his consent, finally sinking his huge cock into his hole. The face Taehyung pulls and the noise he makes is what Yoongi wanted. No pain, just relief. That is why he cursed him with his saliva, this face right here and now is the very reason for it.

He chases his depth instantly, turning Taehyung’s deep yelps to high pitched squeals. Yoongi answers him in animalistic growls and his huge hands bruising his trembling hips as he pulls him back onto his cock over and over and fucking over again.

Taehyung tries to somehow make sense of it. He is on his tiptoes, standing only because Yoongi makes him. His nails hurt from clawing at the counter. His lower stomach aches too from getting it pounded into said counter over and over again. He drools and cries, unable to stop either of those reactions.

Yoongi growls behind him and then Taehyung feels his cum shoot up his inside. It almost hurts in a way, forcing him to cramp up and bend forward with an agonised groan.

Yoongi however pulls him back up, forcing him to make eye contact with his whorish reflection.

“A-ah”, Taehyung lets out, convulsing on his cock. First his stomach is being filled to its bursting point and now his intestines are getting the same treatment. Taehyung swears he might actually leave this room feeling fucking impregnanted.

“Are you doing okay?” Taehyung suddenly hears Yoongi’s voice in his head. His demonic mouth is unmoving, his tongue is still around his neck. Yoongi is actually using his compulsion to talk to Taehyung telepathically. His hips are fucking into him, moving as if he never orgasmed before. The cum makes it easier and a lot noisier.

Taehyung can only think his answer as well.

“It feels so good. It feels so good. It feels so good.”

“That’s good. You’re taking me so well. Fuck, you’re such a good boy.”

“You’re praising me?! Master please don’t stop, please, I’m so filled up. I love praise so much. Please Master, breed me till I carry your babies.”

“You’ve got the sweetest thoughts, Tae. It’s a shame, they’re not mine constantly. Bet you’d be so fun to command around.” Yoongi taunts, giving him deep harsh thrusts. The kind which squirts cum out of his ass everywhere and which makes Taehyung go more and more cross eyed. “I’d make you do the sweetest tasks then. Make you take me like a good boy, tell you how to fucking moan for me.”

Did Jungkook talk to Yoongi? Did he tell him that Taehyung has a fetish for being controlled? Or is he that obvious that Yoongi picked up on it? No matter the answer, it makes Taehyung orgasm. Again. This orgasm feels familiar because it is done by a thick cock in his asshole, but it doesn’t feel any less magnificent because of that. On the contrary, Yoongi’s salvia made him so sensitive inside that Taehyung loses any kind of strength in his body, dropping like a limp doll.

Yoongi lifts him and flips him in his arms. His tongue is inside his mouth again, having left purple marks all over Taehyung’s neck. Speaking of Taehyung. He is currently slacking and tangling in Yoongi’s strong arms, being held up under his bent legs as Yoongi bounces his body on his cock. His head is on his shoulder, his arms barely have strength to hug him.

“Breathe, I’m almost done, breathe”, Yoongi speaks, sounding clearer than before.

Taehyung still can’t speak, thinking his words.

“I’m bursting please Master it hurts.”

“Hurts? Lilac?”

Taehyung shakes his head, twisting Yoongi’s hair.

“I don’t want it to stop. I need more, please.”

“I can provide, don’t you worry”, Yoongi assures him as he easily uses his body as a fleshlight.

And Taehyung is in paradise. He is the second strongest in this coven. At least physical wise. He is always the second strongest and it will always stay this way even if he pretends to be weaker than others. Not anymore, not with Yoongi. He is finally, fucking finally, weaker than someone else. Yoongi never shows how much stronger he is than the rest of you, so Taehyung has almost forgotten how superior in strength he actually is. He gets reminded with each bounce of his body, each stretch of his cock as he drills it deep inside his gaped hole. Yoongi is so strong and Taehyung is his limp sexdoll.

This is everything he ever wished for.

“Master, I have to cum.”

“I know Tae, I know. Me too. Just be patient, Master’s almost done”, Yoongi tells him, dropping Taehyung on his cock to the point his hole takes his balls as well.

Taehyung sobs, squirming in his arms.

“I know, you’re so stuffed. You gotta feel it Tae, feel how I unload the last time.”

“Hyung, I’m cumming.”

“No, you’re not.”

Taehyung squeaks, lifting his head in shock. He lost control over his body. He wants to climax but can’t. Yoongi meets his scared eyes, cocking his brow up tauntingly.

“You think she is the only one who can control your orgasm? I’m the fucking master of control if only I wanted to.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, making noises. They are unable to be described, but they both know that they are the most carnal noises he could ever make.

“Mhm, so pretty. Fuck, you’re making me cum”, Yoongi lulls. He broadens his stance and throws his head back, moaning loudly. This is going to be the last one. He finally feels it. This one is going to be explosive and messy, but it's going to be the last one.

Taehyung takes it screaming, shaking in his arms in a desperate attempt to fight the compulsion. But he can’t. He is destined to have his intestines filled and feel Yoongi’s huge balls throb inside his hole.

Taehyung buries his fangs in Yoongi’s shoulder not for blood but for help. He couldn’t possibly handle it any other way. He is so filled up with cum that he is scared to walk afterwards. He won’t be able to stroll through the forest that much is sure. He will have to lie on his side and hope that his body can digest it as quickly as possible.

“There we gooooo fuuuuuck”, Yoongi comes down with a guttural moan.

“Please”, Taehyung sobs in a squeak.

Yoongi smirks, biting down on his lower lip sensually as his eyes race over his ruined features.

“Please, I can’t do this anymore please.”

“Cum for me, doll.”

The compulsion drops, forcing Taehyung’s orgasm to hit him with such force he sees black again. Pleasure so ancient it feels as if god herself was making him climax fills him. He rips his mouth open, body falling back. Yoongi doesn’t struggle with holding it, neither with bouncing it on his cock for Taehyung’s pleasure.

“Shit your face….holy fuck those noises….you’re driving me insane. Keep squeezing my cock and balls, Tae. Good doll, good fucking doll”, Yoongi talks him through it, skin tingling where Taehyung releases on it.

“Li….lac”, Taehyung chokes out once the overstimulation hits. He never thought that he could be brought to the point of having to use his safeword, but Yoongi quite truly fucked him to the point of exhaustion. Taehyung has never felt that cured of The Horny before. Normally sex always leaves him craving more, but not right now. He needs off now.

“Good boy” Yoongi finishes instantly, lifting Taehyung off his cock. “Fuck, urgh fuck, finally. My balls were in agony in your tight hole. Take deep breaths, Tae. You did so well.”

He stumbles weakly, sitting Taehyung on the counter and falling into his body in a hug. Taehyung cries quietly on Yoongi’s shoulder, feeling high and happy but also like a dirty disgusting slut.

Now that the spell stopped, how will Yoongi react? They have never done such things before, they swore that they never would. Will he be angry at him now that he is clear headed? Will he send him away after making him feel shitty for what they did?

“Are you okay?”

Taehyung shakes and nods his head at the same time.

“Are you in pain? Do you need to throw up? I filled you with so much, I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay”, he croaks.

“But?”

“Please don’t be angry please.”

“I’m not angry, just…I guess I’m embarrassed too.”

Taehyung lifts his head, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. Well, as best as Yoongi allows him to now that he was clear headed and shy.

“What we just did. I never would have done this with you if I wasn’t enchanted. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be please. Not with me. I am the last person who would ever judge you for wanting sex.”

“That wasn’t sex. That was fucking rutting.”

They chuckle, ridding themselves of the worst embarrassment this way.

“And it felt good. So good. Hyung, I’ve been on this earth almost nine centuries now and neve experienced such stimulation before.”

Yoongi smirks lopsidedly, reaching up to cradle Taehyung’s cheeks. He caresses his skin with his thumbs.

“I guess being the strongest has to come with some surprises too. Did you like it mhm? You took my tongue like a fucking champ.”

“Hyung I-”, Taehyung suddenly feels very vulnerable, burying his face in his own hands as he sobs.

“What’s the matter? Did you not like it?”

“I loved it so much, but I’m so shaken up. I do not know.”

Yoongi understands his feelings very well. He gets like this too sometimes when he submits. He gets embarrassed about how good he felt and then feels like crying.

“Hey there, Tae. You’ve got no reason to feel embarrassed”, Yoongi speaks softly, picking him up in his arms to cradle him soothingly. Taehyung leaks onto the floor like this, writhing in embarrassment. “Relax doll, relax.”

Taehyung whimpers, growing limp in comfort. Yoongi carries him to the bathtub and turns the warm water on.

“How do you know me so well?” Taehyung asks in a ruined yet happy lull.

“I’ve been your friend for more than five hundred years now, Tae. You get drunk sometimes and tell me stuff.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you can’t remember the next day, but I know a great deal about you actually.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I know you like being controlled and to be dollified. I also know that it’s trauma which has manifested this way, but that you don’t think about these moments when you have sex this way. You’re an open book when you drink magic wine, Tae”, Yoongi sinks their bodies into warm bathwater.

Taehyung gasps, squirming on Yoongi’s lap.

“Sssh relax. Let me take care of you”, Yoongi soothes him in a gentle voice and with nurturing touches all over his body.

Taehyung melts, limps refusing to work as he sits on Yoongi’s safe lap and lets him clean him.

“There we go. Relax, little doll, relax. It’ll make the cum bloat easier to bear too. Are you okay? Is it very painful?”

“No, just feels like I ate too much.”

“You definitely did. Fuck, sorry for this. That’s what I get for trying to be helpful. She is going to kill me if she finds out I dropped it.”

“She will ask what happened.”

“What are we gonna tell her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to think about this.”

“Alright. Let’s just relax for now.” Yoongi cradles the back of Taehyung’s head and tilts it to his lips for a loving kiss to his cheek. “My friend of centuries.”

Taehyung whimpers, having to hug Yoongi as tightly as his weak arms allow him. He knew how loving his friend is. The healthy and happy relationship he has with both you and Jungkook are proof enough. Taehyung always knew that he was someone who makes people feel safe, but he never thought it would be to this extent.

Taehyung feels so safe, so nurtured and healed, thinking such sweet things that Yoongi has to smile as he cleans him.

This won’t ever be talked about by either of them again. It will be as if it never happened. But for only a small moment in endless time, they are naked together sharing a bath after intense and fulfilling sex.

170 notes · View notes

jezebelblues · 1 month ago

Text

apollo | h.s

summary: fall 1925. a journalist looking for a story, a jazz musician dancing with the devil. [au]

cw: smut18+ - oral fem!receiving, alcohol usage, drugs, fem!reader, depiction of gangs, lower case in case u hate me for it, unedited.

word count: approx 16.7k

| debated posting for a while idk. can u tell i have a thing for historical au’s yet

october 16th, 1925 | chicago

a brick building sat tucked into a narrow side street, a sweet irony. it was flanked by tall, worn structures that once boomed with business but now seemed abandoned - their faded signage barely legible in the dingy light of street lamps. there was a reminiscence that lingered, the apollo club once tucked into bed and remained asleep as the city began to expand. there’s no longer a sign that introduces apollo to the public, having been removed a few years ago as the prohibition bared its ugly teeth.

the marquee sign held a dim, white glow with no words placed into it. however, on top of the sign sat a faded golden lyre, subtly marking the place for those who knew. the large entrance door had the chipped markings of the sacred name from a previous white paint, but since has been worn due to time. it’s the kind of door you’d pass by without a glance, unless you knew to look for it.

the club entrance is set into a recessed alcove, shadowed by the overhang of a rusted fire escape. the door itself is heavy and wooden, painted black, with the sheen of wear from countless hands that have brushed against it. it's always slightly ajar, as if welcoming those with enough curiosity to push through, yet closed enough to keep out prying eyes. graffiti lines the walls of the alley, the scrawl of the city's underbelly just a little louder here, a hint that apollo is more than just a music venue - it's a haven for those who dwell in the shadows of society.

a faint, pulsating glow of golden light leaks from beneath the door, casting long shadows onto the rain-slicked pavement. on humid summer nights, you'd hear the low, vibrating hum of jazz slipping out through the cracks - just enough to make a passersby wonder. there's an old iron gate, usually half open, that leads into the alley, lined with crumbling brickwork, creating the feeling of stepping into another world once you've crossed it.

the baseline thrummed through the floorboards, a low, sultry hum that vibrated in the soles of Y/N’s shoes as she stepped into the speakeasy. smoked curled lazily in the air, hanging like the lingering whispers in the dimly lit room. glasses clinked somewhere in the haze, the murmur of voices a soft undercurrent beneath the rich, haunting notes of a piano.

apollo was hidden away in the outskirts of the city, masked - a sanctuary for the lost and reckless. she had heard about this place, about the intoxicating music and the enigmatic man who commanded the small stage. but no story or rumor could have prepared her for the reality.

he was there, center stage, his figure bathed in the golden glow of a single spotlight. harry styles. the name had followed Y/N for weeks, woven into the fabric of the underground world she’d been chasing. no one knew much about him, but everyone had a theory. some said he was a runaway aristocrat, others swore he was tangled up with the mob. all anyone could agree on was that harry's voice could pull the soul right out of your body, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

and now, watching him under the light, she understood why.

he wore a suit that was all sharp lines and expensive fabric, his hair curling softly against the collar of his white shirt, the top button undone in a casual defiance of formality. a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, the smoke twisting like a lazy snake around his face. his eyes, half-lidded and distant, caught the light just enough to gleam as his fingers skimmed across the keys of the piano, a melody drifting from the instrument like a dream. the room fell silent around him, every eye drawn to the man who made the world seem to slow with every note he played.

Y/N stood in the shadows by the bar, watching. observing. this was why you were here. not just for the story, but for him.

as harry's song came to an end, a slow, mingling silence settled over the room. he stood from the piano, and for a brief moment, his eyes swept the crowd - dark, heavylidded, and sharp. when his gaze landed on her, it felt like a secret had passed between the two, unspoken yet undeniable. a slow smile curled at the corner of his lips, like he knew she’s been watching. like he had expected her all along.

Y/N’s breath caught.

this wasn't just any speakeasy, and harry styles wasn't just any jazz musician.

the crowd erupted in applause, but Y/N barely heard it, her pulse loud in her ears as harry disappeared from the stage, swallowed by the dim lights and thick curtains that parted briefly before closing behind him.

she inhaled sharply, forcing refocus. she was here on business, not to get swept up in the glamour. with a quick glance around, she pushed through the crowd, dodging clusters of people who were already sinking into the fog of jazz and alcohol. the bartender caught her eye as she neared the back hallway, a raised eyebrow hinting that he knew she didn't belong.

"can i help you, miss?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind. he didn't look like the type to throw you out without hearing your reason for being there. his eyes were a soft blue, almost doe-like.

Y/N runs her fingers through her hair, shifting in her stance. "'i’m supposed to speak with mr. styles." she said, confidence threaded into her tone. it wasn't a lie - she had been assigned to investigate, after all - but she hadn't exactly scheduled an interview. the bartender sized her up, his eyes narrowing in slight suspicion, but before he could reply, a deep voice drifted from behind him.

“no need, lou. i’ve got it.”

harry appeared as if he'd materialized from the shadows themselves, his presence as sharp and magnetic as it had been on stage. he was close now, the soft glow of the bar's dim lights illuminating the fine details of his face - the dark stubble tracing his jaw, the faint crease near his brow that suggested weariness beneath the allure. but his eyes, those piercing eyes, were locked on Y/N with a curiosity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"follow me." he mumbles, tipping his head toward the back. his voice was smooth, the words wrapped in an accent that didn't quite belong in this part of the city. she hesitated for only a second, feeling the weight of the moment settle. this was what she had come for.

Y/N stepped past the bartender and followed harry down a narrow corridor. the hum of the lounge faded as she moved deeper into the club, the walls closing in, and the only sound left was the echo of their footsteps and the soft click of harry's polished shoes against the floor. he led her into a small, private room at the end of the hall. it wasn't what she had expected for a locally popular musician, no. there were no plush velvet couches, no haze of cigarette smoke. instead, the room was plain, almost bare with a simple desk, a chair, and a window that overlooked the city streets. the chair looked a bit comfortable, at least - the light floral pattern matching its time.

harry leans against the faded oak desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her with a faint smile. “you’ve been watching me all evening.” it wasn’t a question, just a quiet statement of truth.

Y/N swallowed, fighting to keep her composure. “i’m Y/N, a journalist.” she pauses, reaching into her bag and pulling out a dainty notebook. “m’here to write a piece on nightlife, the underground scene. apollo has a reputation.”

harry’s smile widened at her words, though his eyes darkened a bit, shadows playing in their depth. “and here i thought you were just another fan.” he pushed himself from the desk and takes a slow step towards the journalist, his gaze flickering between the notebook and her pretty face, studying every nuance like he was cataloging it for later. “but i’m guessing you’re not here to talk about the music, hm?”

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. it was like he was pulling her into his orbit with nothing more than a look. after a beat of prolonged staring, she found her voice. “no.” she shakes her head, trying to choose her words carefully. “there are rumors about you, mr. styles - about your connections, like the bootleggers that keep this city running after dark.”

harry's eyes gleamed, and he tilted his head, lips curving into a smirk and that hid something more. “rumors," he repeated, his voice soft and amused. he was closer now, just a few feet away, and the air between them felt thick. "rumors can be deadly in this city, darlin’. you should be careful who you listen to."

"i'm not afraid of rumors," she quips, forcing her chin up in defiance. "but i am interested in the truth. if you're involved in something bigger, people wanna know. your name became a gallery seemingly overnight.”

for a brief moment, the playful edge in harry’s expression faded, replaced by something harrowing - something that made Y/N’s heart race in both fear and fascination. "the truth," he echoed, his voice dropping to a low murmur. he leaned closer, his face inches from hers now, the scent of tobacco and something sweet dancing in the air between them. "the truth is, sweetheart, maybe i just sold my soul to the devil." his eyes burrow into hers, as if he’s trying to search within her. “people who come knockin’ for answers usually end up regretting it.”

his words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding, but she didn't back down. if anything, his warning only ignited her determination. Y/N had spent too long fighting to be taken seriously as a journalist, too long navigating a world where men thought they could intimidate or charm you into submission. she shakes her head, holding his gaze. “i don’t scare easily.”

harry stares down at her for a long moment, unwavering; like he was trying to figure out what exactly to do with the woman that stood before him. then, without warning, he let out a soft, breathy laugh while he shakes his head. “y’got guts, i’ll give you that.” he straightened up, breaking the tension between them, although the smirk still lingered on his lips. “alright, i’ll tell you what. wanna talk? come back tomorrow night and we can talk.”

with that, harry turned away, leaving Y/N standing in the dim room, heart pounding as the door clicked shut behind him. she stood there for a moment longer, her mind racing. she had come looking for answers, grazing her finger along his words like a page in a book, only receiving a paper cut in return. she found something dangerous, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore.

the next day arrived with an unseasonal chill in the air. Y/N stood at the street corner, breath visible in the low glimmer of a streetlight, clutching the strap of her bag a little tighter than usual. the thought of returning weighed on her mind. everything about last night - harry’s intense gaze, the invitation, the strange undercurrent of danger - lingered like a ghost in the back of her mind, pulling her in even as logic said to be careful.

she wasn’t new to risky assignments, but something about apollo felt different, like stepping into a dream where the rules of reality didn’t apply. there was an edge to the club that unsettled her, but it was also what made it difficult to resist.

she pulled her coat tighter around her frame as she made her way back toward the club’s narrow alley. the day had passed in a blur of half-hearted distractions, mind constantly drifting back to the meeting with harry. she had went to work as usual, exchanging small details of her story with her boss that doubted she could produce something of this measure. after all, she was just a woman. the city’s usual bustle had faded into a muted hum, and now, as she approached the speakeasy, it felt like she was walking into the mouth of something unknown.

the alley was darker tonight. the same graffiti-covered brick walls loomed on either side, but the faint pulse of golden light beneath the door felt almost menacing now. the faint, muffled sound of music drifted through the walls - a melancholy trumpet, shrill and poignant.

for a moment, she hesitated. was this really a good idea? she could walk away now, no questions asked, and pretend that harry styles and his world of secrets weren’t as intriguing as they appeared. but something inside Y/N knew she couldn’t. no, not after the things his smile hid, not after the way he had looked at her.

she stepped closer, hand hovering over the door handle. she bites her lip, pushing it open and then waltzing into the club like she belonged. the same smoky haze filled the room, but tonight, the air felt heavier, as if the very walls were holding their breath. warm lights twinkled in the lounge, two men standing upon the stage and playing their instruments with ease. it made her heart heavy, a sad language transcribed into feelings. it was wordless, but the tune held more than a jumble of letters could. some of the folks who sat in the booths actually listened, while others drank and talked amongst themselves.

Y/N scans the room, noticing harry near the bar. his outfit was a bit lackluster in comparison to yesterday, but he still looked dazzling. his posture seemed tense, gazing around the club as if he was in search of something - or someone. when he spots Y/N, a flicker of recognition crossed his features, but it didn’t come with the same easy smile. he offered a curt nod, gesturing her to follow him into a dimly lit area of the lounge.

and so she did, her bottom lip falling between the nervous grip of her teeth. the leather booth was tucked away in a back corner behind the bar, the faint light flickering overhead and casting long shadows over harry’s face. he slid into the booth first, leaning back with the same nonchalant grace as she had seen the night before. Y/N hesitated momentarily before sitting across from him, her bag resting beside her, ready to take notes when appropriate - but this felt less like an interview and moreso stepping upon a trapdoor. still, she tried to remain confident. harry’s eyes never left her, but there was a tension in his posture now, something taut and coiled just beneath his surface. he tapped his fingers heavily against the table, expression unreadable. “so, you came back.” he mutters, his voice a low rumble that made her stomach flip. “guess that means you’re serious.”

she knits her brows together, trying to maintain a collected composure by sitting back in her seat. “why wouldn’t i be?” she quips, her voice steady despite the anxiety that bubbled in her chest. she felt so close to him, feeling the weight of his presence - the same magnetism that could have everyone in the room gravitating toward him.

his lip twitched, almost like he was fighting back a grin, but his eyes remained cloudy and guarded. “y’persistent, little dove.” he paused, running his hands through his curls as his gaze flickers toward her hand reaching into her small bag. “but persistence can be- what’re y’doing?”

her eyes narrowed, turning her head to look at the suddenly more tense (if possible) man across from her. “i- i was gonna take notes.”

his features hardened, shaking his head and she immediately pulled her empty hand out from her bag. “y’trying to make things obvious? you’re already comin’ in here dressed like the press.” he grumbles, leaning slightly over the table between them. he turned his head away, jaw tightening, staring at some distant point in the smoky haze in the lounge.

she waited, her heart hammering in her chest as she nodded. the tension between them palpable yet unspoken. she wondered if there was a reason at all for this, if she would get any sort of answers or if he was just wasting her time.

after silence fell between them, his fingers stilled on the table. when he finally glanced over at her again, something had shifted in his expression. there was a flutter of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded, but it was fleeting. “i’ll give you a crumb.” he sighed, studying her face. “but it won’t be the whole story, not yet.”

she nodded slowly, like if her movements threatened to be too quick and cast a breeze, he’d blow away. like a dandelion to make a wish upon.

“there’s things about this city that the public won’t see.” he began, voice low and steady. “like the people who run it. the alcohol, drugs, power, it’s connected.” he paused, his adam’s apple bobbing against his collar. “bigger than just one man. i don’t pull the strings, m’just a puppet.”

her pulse quickened as she nodded along, trying her best to remember each key detail so she could write it down in her apartment later. “if this is so risky..” she paused, her throat dry and voice shaky. “why tell me?”

for the first time, harry felt the words get caught in his throat. why. his throat could be slit in the back alley tomorrow morning, or his fingers hammered against a table for even looking as if he was running his mouth. his eyes averted to the table, but when he looked up again, the mask was back in place, his expression reserved and hardened. “i’ve been where you are.” harry murmurs. “lookin’ for answers. thinking i could handle whatever. but i was wrong. this world will take everything from you if y’let it.”

her heart ached at the hint of pain in his voice, but before she could respond, harry leaned back in his seat. the moment of vulnerability gone as quick as it appeared. “s’all i’ll give you for tonight.” he said, voice firm. “if you want more you’ll have to earn it.”

she opened her mouth to protest, but harry stood up swiftly, eyes softening momentarily as he looked down at her. “m’on next.” he says gently, nodding his head toward the stage. “feel free to listen, otherwise, get home safe.” he dismisses, turning away and disappearing within a dark hallway.

Y/N frowned as harry vanished before her, slouching in her seat. she replayed his words over and over, studying them so she could write them down as effortlessly as she could later. she debated asking for a drink, but decided it against it as there was some clattering and adjusting on the stage. she had to crane her neck to steal a glance, but after a beat, harry appeared. the same soft spotlight shone on him, and she swore he looked like painting of the fallen angel brought to life. his eyes were narrowed and glossed over, the golden gleam of light paining him a rose gold. he held a heavier looking guitar in hand, and he started to strum after a momentary pause. his voice was low and raspy, and she could’ve sworn she floated toward the center of the lounge to watch instead of walking. his face held every bit of emotion the song could emit. it was almost refreshing to Y/N to see him this way, instead of the feigned apathy that befell him almost constantly.

the melodies he played revealed how shattered he was, it was apparent. he resembled a tragic painting from years into the past she would study in the history classes from adolescence. harry, himself, was poetry. an art. Y/N felt her chest grow heavy, knowing that she was sucked so far into the enigma on stage that she couldn’t fall away from this if she tried.

Y/N tossed and turned that night. the rain pitter-pattering on her thin windows as she curled into her desk, writing down whatever she could in her notes. every scribble in the margins were a question mark, riddles with no answer. she had even put on her favorite nightgown, silk and blushed pink. the color of harry’s lips, perhaps a shade lighter.

the next day dawned gray and overcast, the chill from the night before lingering like a hangover. Y/N eventually awoke in her small apartment, the events of the previous night playing on repeat in her mind. harry’s cryptic words, and the way he had performed on stage haunted her like the fading notes of his song. she sat at her rounded kitchen table that stood by a window, puddles rippling with each sprinkle of rain and the usual bustle of pedestrians moving about. the cup of tea before her steamed her face, and she basked in it. the warmth was comforting, having not changed out of her night attire and she hasn’t dared to try to warm the apartment just yet. coal was too expensive, and she could tough it out in heavy layers for just a bit longer.

her editor had phoned earlier, asking if there were any updates. but she dodged it completely, citing vague leads she still had to chase down. in truth, she wasn’t quite sure what she had. a story? not yet. a lazy article in the morning paper? maybe. she felt like she had an omen more than a paper worthy of breaking news. perhaps, she thought, she should take it as a sign and work down at the pier as a fortune teller. maybe even ask her boss for her own segment in the paper as a prophet. she tried not to grin pathetically at her inner turmoil.

before heading back to apollo in the evening, something that had become her routine - she took a second to think about what she should wear. harry mentioned in passing last night that it was already too obvious to take notes, especially since she dressed like the press anyway.

her lips pursed as she feathered her fingers over the clothes in her wardrobe. she wasn’t as cool as she’d like to be, didn’t have much that would fit into the speakeasy scene. she definitely didn’t own any flapper dresses or laces, but she did have a glittery black dress that reached her knees and frayed at the end. it was her late best friend’s, something she kept for sentiment and didn’t expect to ever wear. she clipped her hair up behind her, deciding against overdoing it in jewelry and only pulling on a dainty silver necklace that has been passed down through the women in her family. the mirror was a bit worn, but she smiled at her reflection, it looked like another version of her. her makeup was almost bare, her features dreamy. she had made note to wear one of her longer coats, mostly because of the weather, but also because she wouldn’t have felt safe bouncing around the city in her current dress.

she made her usual way back to apollo, the chill in the air almost as sharp as the sound of her kitten heels hitting the pavement. the occasional car rolled past, headlights cutting through the gathering gloom - it was only a thursday night after all. she was greeted by familiar warm lights of the club shimmering from underneath the door. she patted herself down anxiously, taking a deep breath and relaxing her features. she pushed the door open, the crowd larger than it previously was last night. the door scooted to a close behind her, and she unbuttoned her coat as she waltzed further in. there must’ve been a deal on drinks due to how much busier the bar was. louis had shot her a gentle glance, and she returned it with a small smile.

Y/N knew harry was on stage by the sound of his voice. it was piano again tonight, and the lyrics were bare - relying more on the notes of the piano to speak for him. her eyes twinkled at the sight of him. he’d worn all black tonight, and it made his green irises more vibrant. she was transfixed. Y/N doubted the idea that everyone was born with a set purpose, but it was undeniable how harry’s purpose was music. her mind wandered to the possibility of him even being the embodiment of apollo himself.

the journalist didn’t know where he was in his set, so she turned on her heel to the dispersing bar crowd. louis nodded a greeting toward her while another man beside him, one she hadn’t recognized, poured drinks for the few that were waiting. “hey.” she smiles, shrugging her coat off and setting it neatly in her lap as she sat on stool. “busy tonight.”

he only nodded again, his thin lips tugging into a smirk as he wiped down a glass with a clean, white rag. “thursday’s usually bring more of ‘em in.” he shrugged. “dunno why.”

she nodded, watching the brunette maneuver around the glasses. she didn’t realize until now that he also had an accent that sounded far away, since she was always usually focused on harry. Y/N bit the inner corner of her lip, nodding along absentmindedly to whatever he said until he ducked down a bit to meet her level, waving his hand slightly with a smile. “y’hear me?”

her cheeks flushed a bit, sheepishly shaking her head. “no.” she laughed, “sorry, what?”

he placed the glass in front of her, turning away momentarily before he poured her an amber colored liquor. the tips of his index and middle finger gently pushed the glass toward her before he stepped away to put the bottle back.

she stared at the glass like it would jump out at her. it was illegal to drink like this, prohibition and all. not to mention, her career would whither away if her boss caught wind of her getting into trouble with alcohol she wasn’t supposed to have. “it won’t bite.” lou chuckled, standing in front of her again, ripping her away from her own thoughts. “might taste like it though.”

she smiles with him, the tip of her finger running along the rim as she stares at her waning reflection in the alcohol. “bit nervous.” she admits quietly.

he scoffs, humor evident in his tone, however. “ ‘cause of the bloody prohibition?” he asks, causing her to look up. “don’t worry ‘bout it, we won’t be troubled here.”

she shook her head to his words, knowing that he meant the cops wouldn’t dare to stop by here unannounced. it felt self explanatory, gathering it from harry’s mumbles and such. the interconnections that ran through here were a dime a dozen - it’s easy to assume law enforcement could have their hands dirty as well. and so Y/N inhaled, giving louis an amused expression as she downed the alcohol she now recognized as whiskey. her eyebrows furrow from the taste, lips pursed as she slid the glass back over to him. “thank you.”

harry’s melody began to lighten, hinting that he was most likely almost finished. that was confirmed when he stood from the piano, pressed his lips in a flat smile toward the crowd, and disappeared behind the curtain without so much as a glance in the bars direction. she heard the heavy glass push toward her again, eyes falling on the doe eyed boy who gave her another drink. “he’s n’ a mood, you’ll need it.”

with that, she warily gulped it down, muttering another soft thank you as she picked up her folded coat and crossed over to the familiar path she once took the first night - his office. her steps started to slow as she walked further into the hallway, noticing his door slightly ajar. her pulse quickened, unsure of the personality she would encounter in a moment - she supposed the alcohol would help. thanks louis. steeling herself, she knocked lightly, then pushed it open.

there he sat, behind the same oak desk, but his easy charm wasn’t there. not visible to her at least. his face was shadowed, the small lamp casting sharp lines on his features. he could be cut and molded from marble. his sleeves were rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms. his fingers tapped restlessly against a half emptied glass. he looked up when she entered, his jaw clenched ever so slightly. “you came back.”

Y/N lightly closed the door behind her, hanging her coat on an abandoned rack beside her. she ambled toward the seat across from him, his eyes taking over her figure. his glance held something new, something she hadn’t seen from him before and she tried to stifle how her cheeks threatened to heat from it. she sat down, crossing her legs. “you told me to.”

he hums, eyes finally settling on her face as he shifts in his chair. “y’look different.” he mutters, swirling the remaining liquid in his drink. the ice clinked softly, a sharp contrast to the tension that seemed to always exist between them. “y’blend in. beautifully, too.”

she was unable to hide her blush now, the heat betraying her. it was obvious he noticed it as well, his lips threatening a smile. “thank you.” she says softly, “didn’t bring my notes either.”

he chuckled, taking his last sip. “good girl.” he grins, setting the glass down and falling into his seat more. he stretched out his legs, folding his arms over his chest - his gaze unwavering. “it’s a machine.” he starts, jutting his chin out toward her as an indication she should listen. “profit on the alcohol and drugs, or help smuggle it, get something in return.” he shrugs, swallowing dryly. “quid pro quo.”

she nods, placing both her hands upon the table as she fidgets with the tips of her fingers. if she’s doing something simultaneously, it’ll help her remember for later.

he clears his throat, sitting up only slightly. “cops get a cut for letting it slip under their nose. gang makes money either way, they run it.” his tone was matter-of-fact, like it was how to word went ‘round. and she guesses, in a sense, it was.

“what did you get?” she quizzes, without even thinking. it felt too personal of a question, and she wanted to clasp her hands over her mouth for asking so abruptly. but she remained still, biting her lip. she could blame her bluntness on the alcohol if needed.

he looks at her through his eye lashes, smiling gently - like he didn’t allow himself to fully. “my name.” he pauses, sitting up completely and bouncing his knee in a rhythm. “didn’t have anything before i started helpin’ out. immigrated to america on a whim, nothin to my name.” he chuckled, though it sounded sad. “met them, and suddenly i had an apartment and instruments and an audience.” he enthused, shaking his head to himself with the same gentle smile. “s’what i came here for. the music.”

she had stopped fidgeting moments ago, too enamored by his words. the more that fell from his lips, the more hopelessly intrigued she felt. he was a story she couldn’t stop flipping the pages to, his roots in a reality she was unaware of.

his expression shifted, an indifference settling upon him. “but the debt is infinite.” he says lowly, locking eyes with her. “done is done, in is in.”

Y/N’s lips parted, her face falling. a glimmer settled in her eye, searching harry’s face. she wondered briefly if he was only a figment of reality, perhaps a warning. “sold your soul to the devil.” she echoed his previous words, and she tried to ignore the shiver that wanted to run down her spine.

his lips finally curled into a full smile, nodding. “exactly, sweetheart.”

silence sat between them once again. there was a weight upon her shoulders, yet she felt almost weightless from the whiskey coursing through her veins. she hadn’t drank in a while, and due to her belly being empty, she felt its effects more quickly than usual. she remained still however, not wanting her head to spin off her shoulders. “tell me what i can do.”

harry almost snorted a laugh, but the sincerity dancing upon her features made him decide against it. his chest almost felt warm at her empathy. he shook his head, smiling. “there’s nothing you can do.” he pauses, “they’re smart, no mistakes. no loose ends.” he figuratively wraps something around his neck, holding his fist above his head. “only loose end they have is a noose.”

her breath hitched, and she swore her heart missed a beat or two. “nothing?” she murmurs, almost to herself. she shot him a glance, something a bit harsher. “why am i here then?” her voice was louder than usual, and had an edge to it. “you know my reasoning here, yet it feels i’m stonewalled.”

he sighed, running his hands through his messy curls. “cause,” he hesitated, another sigh escaping. “god.” he mumbles, letting his head fall backwards and lean against his chair. “i shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. y’gonna get yourself killed.”

she froze in her seat, “why do you say that?”

he groaned softly, shifting in his seat once more. she picked up on how restless he can be when upset. “you want to write y’little heart out on this, make a good story.” he says firmly, staring her down. “and it will, it will make a good story. but they’re not gonna clean house, make things the way it should.” he shook his head. “they’ll kill you, and then threaten your boss into confirming that y’were chasing a conspiracy, Y/N. you’ll not only be dead, but soil your own name in the process.”

she didn’t move, her mouth agape. she couldn’t help the small feeling that she was tricked sit in her chest. he could’ve turned her away from the get-go. she would’ve found another lead, another story. but now her job knew of her efforts, and her boss already doubted that a woman could publish such news. her shoulders falter, lips falling into a frown. “you already let me in.” she muttered, shaking her head. “everything here can be anonymous. but i’m not backing away now.”

he rolled his eyes, his frustration evident - but he could only blame himself. he dangled the carrot, he sucked her into his whirlpool of corruption that any reporter would be a fool to ignore. and if his death was a result in this, his own sword would be in his executioner’s hands. “god help you.” he sighs, clenching his jaw.

she took that as his defeat, and a small grin spread across her lips. she reached for the whiskey bottle that previously filled his glass, bringing it to her lips and taking a swig with a wince she couldn’t stifle. “don’t think theres one between us.” she whispers her reply, shoving the bottle toward the man across from her.

harry chuckled softly at her words, though there was no humor in his eyes. he caught the bottle as it slid toward him, the amber liquid sloshing inside. he took a long pull from it, his gaze fixed on her over the rim. there was a silent understanding now, one that settled uncomfortably between them. they were both two sides of the same coin - her driven by the need to uncover the truth, and him, trapped by the web of corruption he'd helped weave around himself.

Y/N felt dizzy, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the whiskey or the way he looked at her. the quiet between them made her unsure if the should bid her goodbyes, or sit with him for a bit longer. he didn’t make an effort to shoo her away like he would usually do, but he didn’t ask her to stay, either. but, like a jinx, harry stood from his seat, rounding the desk until he towered over her. he extended his hand down to her, gently pulling her up from the chair. she wobbled, and harry watched her through half-lidded eyes. “y’alright?”

“i’ve had a few.” she smiles sheepishly, removing her hand from his. the inside of his hands were calloused, a faint bruise on a knuckle or two, though the top of his hands were soft. “i think i should head home, if we’re finished here.” she murmurs, slowing inching toward the door to avoid tripping in front harry.

he lets out a breathy laugh, ushering toward her and placing his hand on the small of her back - barely. his fingers lightly grazed the fabric of her dress, and his palm simply hovered instead of pressing down. “let me walk you then.”

she furrows her brows as she shrugs her coat back on, shooting the curly brunette a look as he pulled open the door. “i can manage.”

he only smiled again, following her along the hallway into the main area. “m’not letting a pretty girl walk home alone, all the while dizzy from havin’ a few.”

she exhales through her nose, pursing her lips. of course he was right, but she wish he wasn’t. she dreamt of a world where women could feel safe, but it was only 1925, and the feminists of her time could only do so much with what they were given. so instead, she settled on wishing that at least her future daughters will have more. he lead her through the familiar corridor, stealing a glance or two.

harry pulled the door open for her, the crisp air hitting her a bit harsher than she would’ve liked. she hastily buttoned up her coat, a hand lightly touching the small of her back again. they walked quietly, only the wind and the click of their shoes audible as Y/N lead the way. harry’s nose began to flush a shade of pink, his curls dancing in the breeze. the alcohol made her feel a bit warmer however, or maybe it was her coat, or the hand she knew was on her back. “just around this corner.” she utters, breaking the silence.

they round corner, entering her street. brick apartment buildings sat on the edge of the sidewalk, along with a few small shops and a mechanic a little bit farther down. “not too bad of a walk.” harry adds, watching her start up the steps toward the main entrance. he stops by the large glass door, hands shoved in his pockets as she opens it. she looks at him expectantly as he just stands there, bobbing on his heels from the cold.

“coming in..or?” she trails off, raising an eyebrow at him.

“um.” he mumbles, taking the door from her hand and pulling it further open to step in behind her. “only if you’re okay with it.”

she laughs, traipsing toward the staircase with harry trudging close behind. “you walked me, least i could do is offer you something warm to drink.”

harry only smiles, remaining quiet as he mirrors her steps. she was only on the third floor, which harry thanked his lucky stars for, since his legs already ached from his jog in the morning. Y/N walked a few doors down, stopping on the fourth before unlocking her door and holding it open for the musician enter behind. she hangs her coat and drops her keys on the entry table beside her door while harry locks it from habit.

she toes off her shoes, encouraging harry to follow her into the kitchen and take a seat - in which he does silently. he feels almost too tall for her things, like it was a dollhouse intricately made for her. the floral table cloth on the round table hung off the sides gently, kept in place in the center by an unlit candle and a cute, little ceramic trinket. he couldn’t help but smile as he took in the surroundings, everything fitting into her personally so well. the floors were creaky and wooden - almost dull, but she brightened things up with all the pretty colors she could find. of course there was a fluffy rug in the sofa room, not to mention the bookshelf adorned with all kinds of books and little sentimental items she’s collected over the years. it was homey, and it was just hers.

she placed a mug in front of him, a raised etch of lavender right in the center. he fiddled with the tea bag, letting the steam wash over his face. Y/N had sit in the only chair left, which was across from him. a chill radiated off the window, but the temperature in the apartment was comfortable, nonetheless. harry had eyed her notebook that sat on the edge while he took a sip, and it took almost everything in him not to ask if he could take a peak.

“i don’t usually drink.” she says softly, tracing the florals on the tablecloth. “since the law and everything. but it’s nice.”

he places the mug down, nodding along with her. “it is.”

“i swear,” she whispers, reaching her hands out and taking harry’s wrist in her palm. he shivered from how cold her touch was, but melted into it as she began to trace the anchor inked onto him. “i could write a story on these alone.”

he grinned, his breath hitching. a daze clouded her eyes, and he knew it was just the liquor speaking for her. he still chose to enjoy it, however. his eyes threatened to flutter shut, to sink in his seat until he floated to the ground like a leaf shaken from a tree. but his trance came to an end as she pulled her fingers back, fidgeting with her own again. “sorry.” she mumbled bashfully.

“s’okay.” he shrugged. it was more than okay. he picked up his mug again, taking another sip. they sat in a blissful quiet, harry eventually finishing his tea to which she placed the used mug into the sink to reside in for the night.

Y/N leaned against the counter, and she could feel every beat and flutter of her heart against her chest. harry watched her expectantly, standing in her stunning dress in something as simple as a kitchen. a spring flower blossoming in the dead of winter - she was otherworldly. “i’m gonna change and i’ll walk you out after, okay?” she asked softly, to which earned a nod from harry. she began to step away, but before she peeled off into her bedroom, she paused, “you can look over my notes so far.” she murmurs, eyes glancing to her notebook before she crosses over to her bedroom.

harry felt like she read his mind. with her permission, the man doesn’t think twice. as she disappears, he pulls the book open to read over her pages. neat and cursive all in black ink, annotations and question marks in her margins. everything fit into this girl so well - it was almost alarming how her heart lived on her sleeve. but his jaw tightened at her writing, both their names everywhere. he knows that they only discussed anonymity prior to leaving, but it made his stomach twist seeing his name next to all these investigative questions and statements. his nostrils flared as he stood from the chair, walking out her door without so much as a goodbye.

Y/N had spent the last seventeen hours in a haze. after hearing the slam of her door, she rushed out only to find an empty apartment and a spread open notebook on the side of the table harry sat at. she had read over her pages more than once, but she couldn’t find a hint as to why he was upset. she had only wrote down what was said, maybe her own questions here and there, but it wasn’t anything offensive. all she could do is sit with her worries as she fell into sleep, and then on her bus ride to work the next morning. she helped out on other small article, not sure if this apollo piece would even see the light of day. was she even supposed to go to the club tonight? was that harry’s way of ending their conversations all together? she had spent the entire shift like that, but her mind went quiet on the way home. trees and people passed in a blur from the window, and a sigh of relief fell from her lips as she saw her apartment building come into view.

before she could even trudge up the staircase to her floor, one of the doormen stopped her with a gentle shout. “ms Y/L/N!”

her eyebrows furrowed, meeting him in the middle of the lobby. “what’s happened?”

he chuckles, shaking his head as he ambles over toward the front desk and pulled a powder blue gift box from underneath and walked it over. “a man dropped this off for you this afternoon.”

if her eyebrows could knit inward all the way to the opposite ends of her head to create an intersection, they would. “sorry? what man?” she asked softly, almost to herself.

“brown haired gentleman, tall.”

she only looked up in slight disbelief at the doorman, but offered him a gentle smile and a thank you as she rushed up the steps. the description was vague, but she could only assume it was harry. right? she unlocks her door, pushing it open with her shoulder and slamming it shut with her foot as she stumbles into the kitchen, placing the pretty box on the counter while she just stares at it. it was wrapped in a white lace bow, and she almost didn’t want to unravel it from how cute it sat. (but she did anyway, of course).

her lips parted at the sight before her, unfolding the cream-white fabric to open up to her as exhaled out of shock. the dress was a white that reminded her of vanilla, the trim neckline and shoulders were lace that faded gorgeously into a tinseled dress that would fall above her knees. she only assumed the tinsels would dance with every twist or turn she could make. she draped it over her forearm after admiring the fabric, noticing a small hand written note that lay at the bottom of the box.

see you tonight,

and once the evening drifted into dusk, she slipped on the same coat and made the routine trek back to apollo. the music echoed from the club a bit louder tonight, most likely because it was friday. it was a warmer night in october, causing more people to be out and about. she stepped in, the electricity in the lounge immediate. there was clearly wealthier patrons about, and everyone’s voices blended in with the melody that came from the stage - not harry.

her dress dazzled in the low light, and she felt more at ease with how she mixed in with the other women here so effortlessly. she stepped further in, spinning around once or twice to see if she could spot harry, but, no avail. she wondered if he was even here, and if he wasn’t, why was she?

she took a breath and moved toward the bar where louis stood with a familiar grin. “didn’t expect you tonight.” he greets, sliding over a cocktail he had quickly thrown together.

“no?” she asks, picking up the glass and taking a small sip, happier that it was tastier than the liquor last night. “harry isn’t here?”

he shook his head, rummaging about behind the bar. “he is, he just didn’t mention that you’d be popping in. usually does.”

she frowned, forcing down another sip. she didn’t want to think about the possibility that harry didn’t expect her, thus not being the one to drop off the gift. beneath the glamour of the lounge, there was a buzz in the atmosphere that felt ominous. men in suits held conversations at desolate tables, and there was clearly white powder dusted about from previous lines. the event spelt specific, not its usual casual undertone - like the night was made for something. then, out of the corner of her eye, harry came into view. he walked from behind the curtain, only giving a soft smile to the men he had passed on stage. his clothes were dark again, hands shoved into his pockets as he glanced around. his movements were slow, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting her to stop by. his eyes weren’t eager, and his ears didn’t perk up in attempt to listen to her melodic voice. he greets someone unbeknownst to Y/N, shaking their hand with a flat-lined smile. he seems to look through the woman, a face that couldn’t compare to the journalist he’s become accustomed to. through his blank gaze, he spots her, nevertheless, and he had to take a deep breath to keep himself upward. of course she looked stunning, the lights above her making her face glow, while also reflecting prettily off her dress. none of them even moved for a moment - drinking one another in.

she shifted as harry neared her, leaving the woman with a puzzled expression. he looked good in his suit, but there was an edge to his demeanor. he didn’t smile at Y/N like he did to the woman, but his eyes held more than a tight-lipped smile could. as he stood before her, he nodded toward her dress, a hint of confusion lingering in his features. “blending in again, eh?”

she hesitated. it felt like things were moving in slow motion as harry reached past her to grab a drink from lou, sipping it gingerly as he stared down at her through half lidded eyes. “you like it?”

he swallowed, swishing around the ice as he nodded. “i do.” he says, quiet enough for only her to hear. “how many of those y’got?”

this is where she could allow her heart to take shelter in her throat. she studied his gaze, looking for even a smidge of taunt on him, but there was none. he was being genuine. she shook her head, lips parting. “you didn’t gift it?”

now it was his turn to look confused again, his forehead wrinkling from a furrow. he leaned beside her, only one hand beside her right hip on the surface of the bar. they were close, her arm against the edge of his chest. “what are you talking about?” he asked softly, and she could feel his breath above her ears. “be natural.” he cooed, but his body was tense.

she complied, of course. she didn’t move, remaining smushed against him as she takes a sip from her drink. “this dress was left for me. it had a note, seemingly by you.”

Y/N could hear him swallow, and it didn’t ease her worries one bit. harry sighed, licking his lips before he draped his arms across her shoulders, pulling her into the corner of the bar. it was still open enough for prying eyes, but just a little less visible. he guided her back against the counter, harry towering over her as he faced the crowd - his eyes occasionally scanning behind her. “play along.” he whispers, brushing a loose strand that fell from her clip behind her ears. “what’d the note say, dove?”

by his demeanor, Y/N knew he was troubled with something. she knew she should be shaking with fear in realization that it wasn’t from him, but the butterflies in her stomach gaslit her into believing she was alright. his touch was pillowy and warm, and she could melt in it if he’d let her. but she felt his hand drop, and her eyes snapped open. “um.” she paused, shaking her head ever so slightly. “said see you tonight.” she mumbled, watching his jaw tighten. “H.”

he froze, all attention placed back onto her. she had glanced around, looking for onlooking eyes but harry gently pulled her chin back his direction. “what?”

oh, how she wanted to drop to her knees and pull the fallen angel back up to heaven.

“it ended with H.”

his sigh was heavy, and his grip never fell from her chin. he had parted his lips to speak, but was interrupted by a large hand patting his back. he dropped his grip, glancing at the man beside him. brunette and basically the same height as harry. brown haired, tall gentleman. check.

“you received it well!” the man beamed, all attention pointed at Y/N, to which she only nodded. he extended his hand, lightly shaking hers. “you’ll have to excuse the H initial. figured you would trust that most.”

her eyes darted between the two men in front of her. harry was guarded, as per usual, but his eyes were worried. and the other man, stood confidently, unwavering. “you’ll have to forgive me.” she started softly, “but what is this for?”

“you’ve been around a lot.” he paused, wrapping his arm around harry’s shoulders. “with my star here.” he grinned, not releasing harry. “and i had to silence my intrigue on the pretty girl that made a pattern of coming and going with hushed words.”

she nodded.

his eyes narrowed, unraveling his arm from harry’s frame. before he could form another word, harry stepped over beside her and had pulled her head into his lips gently, kissing her temple. “s’my girl.” he stated. there was no shake or waver, and if Y/N didn’t know anything she would’ve believed it herself.

“your muse!” the man exclaimed, a smirk spreading across his lips - but there was a glimmer in his eye. a doubt, but it was barely there. “i thought we told each other these things?” he asked, but it sounded rhetorical.

“i’m so sorry.” Y/N frowned, shaking her head. “i had begged him for privacy. i didn’t think it would bring trouble.”

his eyes narrowed again, a smile still on his lips but it felt like he could see right through her. “no trouble at all.” he said lowly, nodding toward her. “our work is a lifestyle.” his eyes shot at harry, his smile faltering slightly, but not completely. “not a fan of surprises myself but,” he paused, his gaze befalling Y/N’s. he reaches for her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “i enjoy seeing you in my own surprise.” he murmured, eyes raking up her dress. and with that, he left. Y/N was sure she was only in a lucid dream until harry had pulled her away toward the awfully familiar hallway.

wordlessly, his hand remained around her wrist as she followed without protest. his shoes clicked over the tile as he pushed open the door with a little too much force, ushering her in and slamming it shut behind him. his chest rose and fell rapidly, back leaning against the closed door.

“say something.” she pleaded, her voice shaking.

he held up his finger, shaking his head as his nostrils flared. she took the hint, quietly leaning against his desk with a pout. his digits ran through his disheveled curls, and after it felt like hours had passed, he finally looked up at her.

“harry.” she whispered, it was weak. pathetic even. and she would kick herself silly if she saw herself now in the perspective of her a week ago.

his jaw clenched so hard she thought she would see it snap with screws and coils shooting out. he mumbled something under his breath, incoherent to Y/N as he darted to his desk, causing her to move aside before he swept everything of its surface and onto the floor. “fuck!” he shouted, his cheeks red and eyes starting to gloss over. she wanted to reach out, pull him into a hug and coax him into even breaths but it wasn’t in the cards right now. “i-”he paused, it almost sounding like a whimper. he stumbled to lean against the desk, gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white.

she swallowed dryly, her shoulders having already fell. she didn’t feel scared, she didn’t think she had a reason to be afraid of harry himself. but she was worried, yes. “harry?” she repeated, almost a whisper.

he shook his head, curls falling over his eyes. the words caught in this throat from how many thoughts bounced through his head. he felt like his world took a 180 from only knowing this girl for five days, and someone noticed. he didn’t expect the guy to know exactly what was going on, but now Y/N is recognizable. a pawn, an object in his life that can be used to dangle in front of him if they saw fit. “-i can’t ease you out of this now.”

she didn’t want to cry. but the weight on her shoulders would make her if she didn’t try hard enough. she had worked so hard to prove herself at her job, and now this one groundbreaking piece for her career could be ripped out from underneath her. part of her blamed herself, he had warned her countless times. and if she had been smart, she would’ve ran for the hills at his first warning. but she wanted to know the ins and outs, but also wanted to know him. her lip betrayed her by quivering, eyes glossed over with tears. she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of humiliation at her failure.

“Y/N.” he calls out, running his hand down his face. he sighs, taking a calculated step closer to her. “Y/N,” he repeated, only softer. his much larger hand removed her own from her eyes in attempt to shield him from her tears. her cheeks were flush, eyelashes damp as he thumbed a stray tear away. he felt responsible, as if he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing - but it was the opposite.

“m’sorry.” she mumbles, eyes finally melting his. “i’ve made a mess of things.”

he chuckled softly. he wanted to audibly agree, but he knew that would make her feel worse. he took a slow step back, hands dropping from her face to her shoulders. “you’re involved.” he said lowly, his heart in his stomach.

“involved.” she repeated, nodding. she sniffled, and all she wanted to do was crawl into one of the booths out there and sleep the rest of the night away. “-you’re letting me write?” she thought out loud, fully expecting that he would’ve pushed her away. it had seemed that way earlier. “i thought it was done?”

he let out another sigh, hesitantly pulling her into a hug. his chin rested on her head, and she very slowly wrapped her arms around his waist - debating if she should. he didn’t know if falsely giving her the title of his girlfriend was the right move or not, but the man seemed to believe it. what else was he supposed to say? she’s the new bartender! not a day in hell. she wants to play here! would’ve forced an audition. she’s the journalist i’m in kahoots with! shot in the back alley. so, girlfriend she is. “m’afraid you’re stuck with me for a while.”

and Y/N wanted to be terrified. she wanted the world to flip upside down and to boil over with anxiety. she wanted to want to disappear from everything completely. but she didn’t. and all that ran through her mind was, how could it be bad if it felt so good?

three days later, harry stopped by Y/N’s apartment again, and for the first time, there was no tension, no silent storm hovering between them. she sat cross-legged on the couch, a notebook sprawled in her lap as she scribbled notes, but her eyes shot up as soon as she heard the knock. she hesitated, fingers tightening around the pen.

another knock.

she rose, padded to the door, and opened it to find harry standing there, his dark curls slightly tousled and his expression unreadable. for a moment, they just stood there, gazing at one another like strangers who had seen too much of each other’s souls, yet still didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

“morning.” he said, his voice low, almost tentative.

she stepped aside to let him in. “i wasn’t sure I’d see you again so soon.”

he shrugged, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. “had a few things to clear up.” his tone was casual, but his eyes - those piercing green eyes - betrayed something deeper. a tension he wasn’t quite ready to confront. but he relaxed in her presence for the first time, melting into the apartment that smelt like black tea with honey and the morning paper.

Y/N moved back to her spot on the couch, closing her notebook as harry took a seat across from her, elbows resting on his knees. There was a comfortable silence now, one they hadn’t shared before.

“so, about the other night-” Y/N began, unsure how to dive into the complicated emotions swirling in her chest.

harry’s jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, she thought he might brush it off like he usually did. but instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “i wasn’t expecting arthur to do that. i didn’t want you dragged into that world like that. it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange relief at his honesty. she had been waiting for him to shut her out again, to dismiss her like he had before, but instead, he seemed almost open for the first time. “arthur?”

he nodded, “his name is arthur. he’s been involved longer than i have. insanely loyal and in love with the game.” he sighed, leaning back again. though something crossed his expression, a forgotten afterthought. “i’m so sorry-” he rushed out, shaking his head. “you’re not already with someone are you? i don’t want to ruin your reputation.”

she couldn’t help but giggle, shifting onto the rug and scooting herself to sit before his bent knees. “no harry, m’not spoken for.”

he looked down at her, lips parting as he breathed her in. an innocence floated about her like an aura, but sometimes her eyes held something opposite. she was a puzzle to harry, one he wanted to find all the pieces to so badly. an airy relief washed over him, and he knew it was the thought of her not caring for anyone in that way. her eyes were slightly puffy from sleep, her skin softened and lips the perfect shade - she resembled a cherub.

she placed her hands on his knees, pulling herself up. all she wore was a dainty white lounge dress that had tiny purple flowers scattered about, thick socks covering her feet. “would you like anything to drink?”

he had stood up after her like on autopilot, following her small steps into the kitchen. “coffee?” he suggested softly, seeing the back of her head shake into a nod. the girl hummed to herself, a tune he recognized as his own as he sat down. harry couldn’t resist a smile, the soft clatter of mugs and the steady drip of the percolator accompanying her honey soaked voice. “do you take sugar?” she called out from over her shoulder, glancing back at him with a small smile.

“two, if you got it.”

she nodded once more, taking out a small glass dish and removing it’s lid, setting two cubes of sugar in the mug. she stirred it around with a small spoon, handing it to harry as she retrieved a glass bottle of milk from the fridge if he wanted it.

“thank you.” he murmured, listening to the soft clatter and creaks as she sat down across from him. he uncorked the glass bottle, allowing only a trickle or two into his coffee. he settled in his seat, happy to see that the coffee was his perfect shade of brown.

“it feels like you aren’t used to mornings like these.”

harry glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as he took a careful sip. “mornings like what?”

she simply shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “quiet, simple. no trouble brewing over the horizon.”

he let out a soft laugh, stirring his drink a bit. “they come and go.”

they sat in a comfortable silence, a low hum of conversation easing between them. at some point, Y/N had gotten up to make herself tea, taking sips during the pauses of their voices. harry found himself sinking into the moment further, letting the usual tension that sat on his shoulders slip away. it felt like mornings in manchester before he crossed an ocean. the air was calm, his mum’s voice soft.

she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she set her empty mug down, pulling her legs into criss-cross in her chair. “you’re different when you’re like this.”

he furrowed his eyebrows, curiosity piqued. “how so?”

she bit her lip, eyes averting from harry’s as she thought. “relaxed.” she smiled gently. “it suits you.”

harry blinked, unsure of how to respond at first. he wasn’t used to being seen like this - stripped of the persona he so carefully put together - but there was something about Y/N that made him feel like he shouldn’t pretend, despite her interest in the truth. he leaned back, bicep stretch along the back of his chair. “i don’t know how to do relaxed.” he confessed, voice gentle and low.

she smiled again, pillowy and sweet as a dessert. “you’re doing it now.”

there was something about the way she looked at him - like she could see straight through all the mess, straight to who he really was. it was disarming, and he found himself leaning in just a little, his fingers brushing more deliberately against hers now. “maybe you're rubbing off on me.” he murmured, his voice teasing but laced with a sincerity he couldn't hide.

Y/N's breath hitched slightly, but her smile didn't waver, looking up at him through her lashes. "maybe that's not such a bad thing."

for a long moment, they just sat there, the space between them filled with a quiet intimacy. harry's fingers slid up her fingers and enveloped her hand into his. the touch slow, deliberate. she didn't pull away. instead, she leaned in slightly, the rounded edge of the table resting beneath her breastbone.

his heart raced in a way that felt foreign but not unwelcome. it wasn't the adrenaline of a close call or the rush of making a dangerous move. it was something delicate, slower. he wasn't sure what to do with it, but he didn't want it to end. “you’re not scared of me, are you?" he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's eyes flickered up to meet his, her expression light but sure. "no, harry. i never was.” she confessed. of course it was the truth, she had always felt pulled into him like he was the center of gravity. even when uncertainty loomed over her, a flicker of fear toward harry himself never washed over. perhaps it was natural selection, his beauty a siren call to a sailor - and she followed the melody blindly.

there was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken feelings, before harry shifted closer to her, raising his bum off the seat ever so slightly to lean farther in.

he swallowed, his hand moving from hers to gently cup her cheek. he hesitated for a split second, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt, but all he found was the same quiet confidence she always carried.

without thinking too much, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against her forehead. it was a simple gesture, but one that made her heart swell. she closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth of his touch, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn't exist.

when he pulled back, their faces were still close, and Y/N couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. "that wasn't so bad, was it?" she teased lightly.

harry chuckled, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. "no. I suppose not."

they stayed like that for a while, harry having adjusted the chair to round the table and sit next to her. the morning stretched lazily around them as the world outside carried on. but for now, in the quiet warmth of her apartment, everything else seemed to fade away.

before harry bid his goodbye, he left another kiss on her forehead. her shampoo smelt of strawberries and her soft strands of hair felt like velvet against his skin. “need you to join me for an event tonight.” he mumbled into her forehead, pulling away to look into her eyes. he was kneeled in front of her, one leg underneath him while the other in front. his breath smelt like coffee and the jam biscuit she had given him earlier, the familiar scent of the smoky lounge embedded in the locks of his curls.

she hummed, eyes closing as she leaned back ever so slightly. if she was that close again, she might’ve been tempted to press her lips against his. “what for?”

he swallowed, an anxious feeling threatening to creep up his chest and out his throat to word vomit all over her. but he sighed, breath warm against her face. “a colleagues house. black tie event. you were invited.”

her eyes peeled open, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched in confusion. “why?”

“think they’re testing this girlfriend theory out.” he said lowly, the palm of his hand resting upon her knee gently. “don’t believe they suspect much, but i’ll need you on my arm. will you?”

she nodded, searching his expression to look for something hidden. “only if you’ll give me more to write.”

he gave a small smile, sending her a soft nod as he patted his hand against her knee, standing up. “y’have my word.” he stated, stepping off toward the door. and he meant it, she really did have it; both as a promise and written with the ink of her pens.

that evening, Y/N stood in front of her mirror, her hands smoothing down the delicate fabric of her dress. if she had owned any dresses, it was definitely an evening gown or two. the pine green gown hugged her figure just right, the hem barely above the floor as she twirled once in front of her reflection. the neckline was that as many of the bras she owned, though a bit more conservative - only a glance of her cleavage available to the eye. the back hung loosely, draped down to the highest point of her waist. the bones and muscles in her back rippled in the light gorgeously, that in itself could be her accessory. her hair was pinned back with loose tendrils falling around her face, and her silver necklace sat at her collarbone. she didn’t often dress up like this, but tonight wasn’t just any night. harry had asked her to play a part, and she intended to do it well.

a knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly gathered herself, giving one last glance in the mirror before padding to the door. she opened it to find harry, his dark curls neatly tamed, a black suit tailored to perfection, and a bow tie hanging loosely around his neck - unfinished. he stood there for a moment, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, and for the first time since they’d met, she swore she saw him falter.

“wow.” he breathed, blinking as if trying to steady himself. “you’re breathtaking.”

Y/N smiled softly, feeling a warmth creep up her neck. “you don’t look too bad yourself,” she teased, gesturing to his unfinished bow tie. “though i think you need a little help.”

harry chuckled, stepping inside as he fiddled with the fabric. “never could get the hang of these things,” he muttered.

Y/N stepped closer, her fingers gently brushing his as she took over, expertly tying the bow. they stood there, inches apart, her gaze focused on the task while harry watched her intently. the air between them seemed to crackle, and for a brief moment, the world outside their little bubble ceased to exist.

“there.” she whispered, smoothing the collar of his shirt. her hands lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “all set.”

his gaze held hers, something unspoken passing between them. he swallowed hard, the tension from the nights before returning, but this time, it felt different - heavier, more intimate.

“ready?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, though her heart raced in her chest. before shutting the door; she reached over to the coat rack, pulling out a black shaw to wrap around her shoulders. “ready.”

as they stepped outside and made their way down the dimly lit street, the autumn air crisp and cool against their skin, harry reached out and placed his hand on the small of her back, inches below the bare skin revealed by her dress - or lack there of. it was a simple, but the way his hand felt closer than before sent goosebumps over her skin like a tidal waves. it wasn’t just for show anymore; there was something genuine in the way he touched her, something that made her feel more grounded than she had in days.

they arrived at the event after a wave and a whistle to a taxi - a grand estate, the kind that screamed old money and exclusivity. the soft hum of jazz music filtered out into the night air as they approached, their shoes clicking softly against the cobblestone driveway. Y/N squeezed harry’s hand slightly, her nerves bubbling to the surface.

“remember,” he whispered, leaning down so only she could hear. “you’re my girl tonight. no questions. just follow m’lead.”

Y/N nodded, her resolve strengthening as she straightened her posture. she could do this. she wanted to do this. it wasn’t just about the story anymore - it was about him. the world he was caught up in, the danger he carried on his shoulders. she wasn’t going to let him bear it alone.

they stepped through the grand doors, the warm glow of chandeliers illuminating the opulent room. men in tuxedos and women in sparkling gowns mingled, the soft clink of champagne glasses and muted laughter filling the air. harry’s hand never left hers as they wove through the crowd, his grip steady and reassuring.

moving through the throng of people, harry’s demeanor shifted. he was calm, collected, every inch the confident musician with connections to powerful people. he greeted a few familiar faces, keeping Y/N close by his side, his arm occasionally resting around her waist in a way that felt both protective and possessive.

at one point, they stopped by a group of men deep in conversation. one of them, a tall man with slicked-back hair and a knowing smile, turned his attention to harry, then to Y/N. his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“this must be the lovely lady we’ve heard about.” the man said smoothly, extending his hand to Y/N. “arthur’s told us quite the tale.”

harry tensed beside her, but Y/N met the man’s gaze steadily, slipping her hand into his for a brief shake. “it’s a pleasure,” she said, her voice calm despite the unease creeping up her spine.

the man’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “likewise. you know, we’re always curious when new faces come around. especially ones as..captivating as yours.”

harry’s grip on her waist tightened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. “she’s with me,” he said firmly, his voice low but clear. “and that’s all you need to know.”

the man raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t press further. instead, he gave a slow nod, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer before turning back to the group. “of course. enjoy your evening.”

as they moved away from the group, harry’s tension didn’t ease. he guided her toward a quieter corner of the room, his hand still firmly on her waist, though now it felt more like a shield than a gesture of affection.

“harry.” Y/N murmured, glancing up at him. “what was that about?”

he didn’t respond immediately. he ran a hand through his curls, his eyes scanning the room. “they’re watching us,” he muttered. “arthur, the others..they’re testing me. testing us.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t waver. she placed a hand on his arm, grounding him, bringing him back to the present. “m’not afraid,” she whispered, her voice steady. “are you?”

harry’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. he placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. “ ‘course not.”

for the rest of the evening, they stayed close, a united front in a world full of shadows and whispers. and though the stakes were high, Y/N felt a strange sense of calm wash over her.

as the night wore on, the atmosphere in the grand estate only seemed to grow heavier. the elegance and tinkling of champagne glasses became a backdrop to the undercurrent of suspicion and subtle power plays. Y/N could feel it - the tension in the air, like a taut string waiting to snap.

harry remained by her side, guiding her through the room like a chess piece he was careful not to lose. every so often, he would lean down and murmur a soft reassurance in her ear - small words meant to comfort, though they were as much for him as they were for her. when he was sure no one else could hear, he would occasionally feed her bits of information of those in the room. things she could write down later.

they drifted from one group of people to the next, exchanging pleasantries with men and women who, by all appearances, were simply enjoying a lavish evening. but she could see the way their eyes lingered too long on her, the flicker of curiosity when they spoke to Harry. she was an outsider in their world, and she knew it.

as they approached another cluster of guests, Y/N’s gaze was drawn to a tall man at the center of the group. he stood out, his dark suit impeccably tailored, and his brown locks slicked with gel gleamed in the soft glow of the chandeliers. arthur. his eyes landed on them almost immediately, a slow, calculated smile stretching across his lips as he stepped toward them.

“harry,” arthur greeted, his voice smooth but with an underlying sharpness. his gaze slid to Y/N, lingering for a beat too long before returning to harry. “and his daphne.” he winked, laced with a teasing undertone. it struck something in Y/N, like a foreboding whine on a cello vibrating in her chest. daphne. apollo. the huntress he fell in love with. a journalist ravenous for truth.

harry’s grip on Y/N’s waist tightened slightly, but he kept his voice steady. “arthur. you’ve made your introductions previously.” his tone left no room for further taunts, referring to the night before.

arthur’s smile didn’t falter. if anything, it grew more amused. “ah, yes. but i’m afraid I didn’t get the chance to know her better.” he looked at Y/N now, his sharp gaze flickering over her dress, his lips curving into a smirk. “you do make quite the striking pair. no wonder people are talking.”

she felt the weight of his words, but she didn’t waver. she offered a polite smile, her hand resting lightly on harry’s arm. “i’m afraid i don’t pay much attention to gossip.”she said, her voice calm and measured.

arthur chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “smart girl. but in this world, my dear, what people say can be just as dangerous as the truth.”

before Y/N could respond, a woman joined the group, her gaze sharp and calculating. her long, dark dress shimmered as she moved, and she carried herself with the grace of someone used to commanding a room. her blonde hair was pulled into a bun, adorned with pearls.

“arthur,” she purred, placing a hand on his arm. her eyes flicked between harry and Y/N, and a knowing smile curled her lips. “i see you’ve finally met harry’s companion. been the talk of the evening.”

he inclined his head slightly, his shoulders relaxing. “indeed, i have. a pleasure.”

Y/N could feel the weight of their scrutiny, the way they were testing her, pushing for a crack in her composure. but she kept her head high, refusing to let them see her falter. she wasn’t here just for harry’s sake - she had a job to do, a story to uncover. this world, as uncertain as it was, held the key to something much bigger than any of them.

harry, sensing the tension rising, spoke up again, his voice cool. “it’s been a lovely evening, arthur, but i think it’s time i took her for some air.”

arthur’s eyes glinted with amusement. “of course, harry. i’ll see you as the night continues.”

the was a subtle threat buried in those words, but harry didn’t take the bait. instead, he nodded curtly and gently guided Y/N away from the group, his hand firm on the small of her back.

they found a quieter corner of the grand ballroom, away from the prying eyes and sharp tongues. Y/N exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her nerves finally catching up to her.

“what was that?” she whispered, turning to harry as soon as they were out of earshot.

harry ran a hand through his curls, his expression tense. “he wants t’rattle me. but i see it in his eyes, he’s fallin’ for it. slowly.”

“and what happens if he doesn’t?” Y/N asked, her voice soft but steady.

he met her gaze, his green eyes filled with something unreadable. “he wont, dove. i won’t let that happen.”

she swallowed, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on them - the stakes higher than she had anticipated. this wasn’t just a simple gathering of the city’s elite; it was a power play, and she was right in the middle of it.

but she wasn’t alone.

he reached for her hand, his fingers lacing through hers as he pulled her a little closer. his voice was low when he spoke again, almost too soft to hear. “y’doing so good, yeah? jus’ keep following m’lead.”

Y/N nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand steady her. his praises allowed a heat settle between her thighs as well, his cool breath a contrast that allowed her breath to hitch.

they lingered in the corner for a moment longer, the noise of the party humming in the background. Y/N could feel the weight of harry’s eyes on her, the way he seemed to be thinking about something he wasn’t ready to say. but before she could ask him what was on his mind, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“there you two are.”

Y/N turned to see louis approaching, a relaxed smile on his lips with a flute of champagne in his hand. his easy demeanor provided a brief respite from the tension that had been hanging in the air. harry’s hand loosened slightly around hers, though he didn’t let go.

“didn’t expect to see you tonight, lou,” harry greeted, his voice still holding an edge of caution though a small smile tugged the corner of his lips.

he shrugged casually, swirling his drink before taking a sip. “figured i’d pop in, someone’s gotta supply the alcohol.” his eyes flicked between the two of them, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you two seem to be handling the attention well.”

Y/N glanced at Harry, sensing the subtle shift in his stature. he was more relaxed with louis around, but she could tell he was still nervous. it was as if he was waiting for the next move, the next subtle threat hidden behind a pleasant smile.

lou has been a friend of harry’s since arriving to america, having worked behind the bar alongside with him before the opportunity of music presented itself. louis had a kind heart with a tough exterior. he wouldn’t have expected him to be in this line of work, but louis explained it was necessary to support his family. the economy struggled, and jobs were few and far between. he’d rather risk being caught bootlegging than burning alive in a factory with a boss who couldn’t care less.

the shorter brunette raised an eyebrow, catching the tension between them. “arthur giving you a hard time?”

harry’s jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. “he’s testing the waters.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “sounds like him. loves to push people, that one. see how far they’ll go before they crack. but don’t worry, mate. he’s all talk tonight. no one’s going t’make a scene here.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at his words, though she still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. the event had an air of sophistication, but beneath the polished surface, there was a current of something darker - something she was only beginning to understand.

louis set his empty glass down on a nearby table and turned to Y/N, his expression softening. “y’holding up alright? not the easiest crowd for a newcomer.”

she smiled, though she felt the evening pressing down on her. “i’m fine, really. just trying to keep up.”

he gave a small nod of approval. “you’re doing more than keeping up, love.”

harry shot lou a warning look, but he waved it off with a smirk. “relax, H. they’re impressed. they don’t know what to make of the relationship yet, but that’s good. keep ‘em guessing.”

she was in a role tonight - harry’s partner, his girlfriend as far as the others were concerned - but it was a game, and she was still figuring out the rules.

before any of them could say more, the sound of a glass being tapped echoed through the room. the buzz of conversation faded into silence, attention turning toward the center of the ballroom where arthur now stood, a drink in hand and a smug smile on his face.

“ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice commanding the attention of the room. “i’d like to make a toast. to good company, to old friends, and to the future that lies ahead of us all.”

there was a murmur of agreement as glasses were raised, but Y/N noticed the way arthur’s eyes lingered on her and harry. a smile spread across his lips, a glimmer in his brown eyes.

“to new faces,” he added, his gaze locking onto Y/N. “and to the fresh opportunities they bring with them.”

Y/N’s stomach tightened. the toast was meant for her - thinly veiled, but it was there. she could feel harry tense beside her, his fingers pressing gently into her waist. he didn’t move, but she could sense the shift in him, his calm facade now cracking under the weight of arthur’s words.

“cheers,” the brunette finished, his glass raised high as the rest of the room followed suit. the clinking of glasses filled the air, and then, just as quickly, the room returned to its previous hum of conversation and laughter.

but she could feel the change. arthur’s toast had been more than just a public greeting - it was a message. she wasn’t just a guest here anymore.

louis leaned in slightly, his voice low. “watch your back tonight, love. arthur doesn’t like loose ends.”

harry shot a pointed glance toward his friend before tugging on Y/N’s hand toward arthur’s direction. she smiled softly at lou before quickening her stride to keep up. “saying our goodbyes.” he mumbled, “we’re leaving.”

his pace was quick and purposeful as they made their way across the extravagant room. she followed closely, her pulse racing as she felt the weight of arthur’s gaze settle on them before they even reached him. it wasn’t just a casual departure - it was strategic. harry knew how to play his cards.

arthur shot them a wide grin, a knowing look flashing in his eyes. he tilted his head slightly, swirling the golden liquid in his glass with a lazy grace. “leaving already, harry? night’s still young.”

he didn’t falter, his voice calm but firm. “got t’get her home at a decent hour. just came to say goodnight.”

arthur’s eyes flicked to Y/N, his smirk lingering. “a shame. was hoping to learn more about your muse.” his words were light, but there was a distinct undertone of menace.

Y/N stood a little straighter, refusing to shrink under his gaze. she smiled politely, though the steel in her eyes matched harry’s. “m’sure we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted in the future.”

he chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill down her spine. “i look forward to it.” he glanced back at harry, raising his glass slightly. “safe travels, old friend. see you soon.”

harry gave a sharp nod, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening just enough to signal the need to move quickly. “of course. goodnight, arthur.”

without another word, harry guided her swiftly toward the exit. the cool night air hit them like a wave as they stepped outside, the tension in the room left behind but still clinging to their skin.

Y/N exhaled sharply, her breath visible in the cold as she glanced at harry. “what now?”

he ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched as he looked down the dimly lit street. “take y’home and help you write.”

she nodded, hoping to shake off the lingering unease that wrapped around her like a shroud. “do you think he’ll try anything?” she paused, glancing up at him. “he seemed interested.”

he held onto her hand, guiding her down the long driveway and to the sidewalk. “interested in you, yes. but it’s more about power for him. wants to see how far he can push, wants to have an aspect of control over me to keep me from leaving. i don’t think he knows.”

as they walked down the neighborhood to meet the main road, he kept a pace brisk. his fingers were still interlocked with hers as if anchoring them both. once turning a corner and being met with the lights of the city, harry waved down another taxi to bring them back to her apartment. the ride was quiet, the low buzz of a radio echoed a host’s incoherent words along with the sounds of the tires against the road. he guided her up the steps of the complex after being dropped off, reaching for the keys she had told him to hold onto and allowing the door to open.

hey both settled in at the coffee table, shoes having already been taken off but they still resided in the evening’s attire. harry softly told Y/N things to write down, her hands flicking out the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen. “i still feel guilty.” she murmured, continuing her movements. “for making your life more difficult.”

he shook his head, softly placing his hand across her paper to stop her writing. “nonsense.” his tone was soft, but firm. sincerity. he sighed, pulling her soft, cold hand into his. the pen rolled off the edge of the notebook, falling onto the rug. “arthur has a way of getting in someone’s head, makin’ them doubt themselves.” he paused, thumbing gentle circles on the back of her hand. “but s’nothing. i know you’re smarter than his antics.”

she nodded, her cheeks turning a tinge of pink. his touch was soft and electrifying all at once, a rubber band stretching in her belly threatening to snap. the grip on her hand went loose, his lips parting ever so slightly. her hair was down, having taken out the clip once she walked through the door. the sight of her sitting on her heels across the small table was a teasing in it of itself. his chest tightened as he let go of her hand, scooting around the coffee table to sit beside her. her perfume was light and floral, and when he noticed her chest start to rise and fall more hastily he felt himself twitch. “Y/N..” he trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. he kept his hands on the table, nervous to act on the thoughts that bounced around his head.

the pads of her fingertips trailed along the fluffy rug until she reached his thigh, her touch light and meticulous against him. “harry.” she whispered, almost breathless. “can we still pretend?”

his hand met hers before he gripped her wrists lightly, halting her movements all together. “pretend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. of course he knew what she meant, but watching her cheeks blush into a darker shade of pink made his pulse quicken. “pretend you’re still mine?”

she nodded sheepishly, a heat pooling between her thighs pathetically. she wriggled her wrist in his grasp, her lips in a slight pout. “treat me like your girl.” she pleaded quietly. “just for a while longer.”

harry hesitated, eyes burrowing into hers like he was searching for answers. her eyebrows furrowed with need, eyes clouded with a desperation that pulled harry away from her eyes. he tugged on her wrist, gently pulling her into him as she tried to scoot her bum across the space between them simultaneously.

he cupped her cheek with his other hand, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that sent her heart racing. she melted into him, the kiss deepening as he maneuvered her wrist-in-hand to his lap, bounding her to him. the warmth of his body against hers ignited a fire within her, and she felt herself yearning for more. he bunched her grown above her knees ever so slightly as he pulled her onto him, his large hands kneading the flesh of her bum as his tongue swiped past her lips, brushing hers.

with a sudden shift, harry broke the kiss and guided her to sit on the sofa, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "relax, sweet girl.” he murmured, hands trailing up her soft legs and dragging her dress back up along with it.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as he settled between her legs, trailing gentle kisses from her knee, up her inner thigh until he could see the thin fabric of her panties clinging to her wet cunt. his hands looped around her thighs and spread them apart. the cool air against her skin sent shivers through her body, heightening her senses. she leaned back against the sofa, her heart pounding in more places than her chest. "harry," she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair hesitantly as he continued his exploration, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. the anticipation built within her, and she could feel herself aching for his touch. she knew what was he was intending to do, though she’s never felt it before. she lost her virginity in high school, but only heard the idea of a man’s face between her folds through her best friend. she believed it to be a fantasy, only existing behind her eyelids as she fingered herself underneath the covers - until now.

"just a taste" he mumbled, his voice low and sultry, but it sounded as if he was talking to himself. his lips grazed over the wet spot of the fabric, the gasps that fell from her lips melodic, and he wondered if he could mimic the melody on his guitar. his thumb grazed up her covered folds, pressing down on her clit hidden between. she hissed, his fingers finding themselves looped around her underwear, pulling them down in a swift movement. he bunched up her dress a bit more, nearing her core as he gazed up at her through his eyelashes, an eager grin on his lips before he pressed a soft kiss against her most sensitive spot. his breath was hot against her, hands gripping the place where her hips and thighs met. his lips brushed over her folds before he spoke, “y’trust me, Y/N?”

her fingers remained threaded in his curls while she nodded feverishly, which only earned a tsk from harry. he placed a few kisses on her inner thigh and around her folds, the girl squirming underneath his hold. “my girl would use her words.” he taunted gently. he inched closer to her core as she whimpered multiple pleases. the sensation was foreign and electrifying, a shiver cascading down her body.

he placed a tentative kiss on her bud to get a feel for her sensitivity. her back arched involuntarily as she tried to pull his face closer to her dripping cunt. he responded eagerly, tongue flicking out to taste her - a jolt of pleasure shooting through her. his lips enveloped her clit, sucking and lapping like it was the best flavored lollipop in the local candy shop. although he only promised a taste, he would go against his word - already addicted to the way she felt against his mouth. “this okay?” he asked against her, keeping his movements the same until she answered.

“yes-” she whimpered, riding her hips against his face. “more, H. please.” she breathed, desperate for his movements to continue. the sensation wasn’t anything compared to her fingers - intimate and raw, filled with a heat that threatened to consume her.

his tongue flicked hungrily as he explored her with deliberate care. he licked and sucked, tongue swirling in ways that made the coil in her belly tighten. she bucked her hips against him, strings of desperate moans falling from her parted lips. nothing existed outside of this moment, including the neighbors behind thin walls. she cried out profanities that mixed in with his name, harry continuing his assault on her cunt. the knot in her tummy tightened, threatening to release - but she didn’t want it to end just yet. his mouth was ecstasy against her, and she wanted to ride out this high as long as she could. he didn’t rush, his tongue moving in slow languid strokes. his left hand trailed softly down her leg, his thick fingers sitting at her her entrance before he slowly pushed two in, feeling her walls clench tightly around him.

he couldn’t stifle the small groan that escaped him, reverberating against her pussy as he flicked the tips of his fingers upward. he leaves sloppy kisses around her thighs while his thumb encircles her clit greedily, watching the sight before him as if it was the first colored film with clear audio. “har-“ she moaned, having trouble forming coherent words. “m’gonna-“

“y’gonna what?” he asked lowly, quickening his place. “tell me, dove.”

her moans were messy, getting louder as she nears her release. he removes his hand, gripping onto her hips again and pulling her flush against his face. she could feel the tension coiling in her core, the pleasure mounting in a way that was both overwhelming and intoxicating.

she was on the edge, teetering on a precipice she had never experienced before, and harry seemed to know it. he slowed down, drawing out every moment, savoring her reactions, until Y/N couldn't take it anymore. her back arched, her hands gripping the sofa as her body gave in, the pleasure crashing over her like a wave.

her body trembled, every nerve alight as she rode out the overwhelming sensation, harry's touch steady and grounding. his mouth never left her core, lapping at her as he drank in every drop of her release. and when the waves of pleasure finally subsided, she collapsed back against the cushions, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

harry lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he climbed back up, resting beside her. his lips and chin glistened with the remnants of their passion, placing a gentle kiss atop her head.

once the tremors subsided, he stood up in a fluid movement, taking her hand into his as he gently pulled her up from the couch, guiding her to the open bedroom. he helped her sit on the edge of the bed, combing his fingers through her disheveled hair. “y’clothes in the dresser, dove?” he almost cooed, to which he earned a nod. he crossed over to the dresser with flowers etched into the wooden surface. he pulled out a thin, white nightgown, helping Y/N out of her dress to slip the gown over her head with care.

he leaned over the bed as he helped her get into the spot against the wall, tucking her blankets her frame. before he could step away, her fingers caught his, her expression weary and but wanting. “pretend a while longer?” she frowned, “don’t go.” she pleaded, fingers slipping from his as she patted the spot beside her.

“y’want me to sleep here?” he thought out loud, his gaze tender as it lingered on her. “y’sure?”

she only nodded as harry began to shrug off the blazer, undoing his belt that hugged his slacks around him. his fingers struggled with the bow tie, a sigh falling from his lips as he put a knee on the bed, leaning over with a small smile. “requires your assistance.”

she giggles quietly, undoing the bow tie before he pulled away and stripped down to his boxers. the moth on his abdomen fluttered with every breath as he slipped into the spot beside her, head resting flat against the pillow as she pulled herself into his side, draping an arm lazily around his torso, head on his shoulder. “thank you f’today.” he mumbled, tracing slow patterns along her back through the fabric of the nightgown.

she hummed, eyelids heavy as her breathing slowed. she listened to his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin a perfect contrast to the coolness of the blankets. it felt like heaven against her. she drifted further into slumber as she parted her lips, whispering out, “thank you for everything.”

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chocolatefrog18 · 1 year ago

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Reality Leak - a Scott The Woz Fic

It is on this day that I announce the end of my ongoing Scott The Woz fanfic. It is now completed.

36 chapters and 51k words. 173 pages in my Google Doc.

2 years of it sitting in the back of my brain and 95 days spent actually writing it.

"What do you do when the fictional world of your own show begins to leak into reality?"

I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it for you all.

All the love to everyone who read it while it was being written, everyone who gave me ideas, everyone who made art, everyone who gave me songs that they said fit the vibe, and everyone who gave a chance to the Scott The Woz fic that said 'RPF'.

Thank you for reading!

#chocolatefrog18 #scott the woz #stw #wozblr #reality leak au #stw reality leak

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fangirlingpuggle · 2 months ago

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hey in the ford-thinks-dipper-and-mabel-are-his-kids-with-bill au how does weirdmageddon happen? cause no way ford ONLY asks dipper to stay cause he thinks they're both his kids. like does he get a reality check an realize hey,they're leaving at the end of the summer, panics cause if he thinks the twins parents are implanted memories to explain why bill put them here then *where are they going back to*, tells them both to stay and then mabel runs off because shes already freaking out about needing to grow up and visiting gravity falls for the summer is great but living there full time, effectively moving out of her parents house forever is just. WAY too much WAY too fast and WAY too grown up for her? or if you already had an idea cause you had that post about weirdmageddon and the bubbles id love to hear that!! like for reals it would be SICK to see what you came up with

Hi there, I really like that idea. I think things are more chaotic cause Ford wants Stan to give him house and life back but also wants his kids here and Stan still sees kids as his only family (And still thinks Ford is being crazy 'Sixer you can't keep these kids here they aren't your')

I think maybe the kids overhear that Ford thinks they're his and Bills kids or at least Mabel does and her confusion as she hears For justify everything about Dipper birthmark, the fact all the weirdness since the twins came here, that they find this stuff so easily even found the journal right away, the fact they had never met Stan before and they were sent across the country to stay with him all summer how they're 'parents' hadn't contact checked in on them ect.

Mabel... is super confused is Grunkle ford right? Id he there dad? Is Bill there are other dad? Are they human? What are they? Are their parents not their parents? Is that why they're fighting and getting divorced because they were never in love and together it was all an illusion? We're her 'parents' even married or together or just two people Bill used for this illusion/scheme.

She's scared to go back, scared to stay, scared about wheat happens next even more so then before as she doesn't even know whats real anymore. When Bill comes disguised as Blendin it's not endless Summer he's saying he can use rift to show exactly what happened what they are what's true.

Mabel's bubble is kinda similar but she doesn't know what happening outside she just thinks she dreaming just asleep just a lucid dream. (And Bill is slowly leaking powers into her) Dipper is with Ford and Bill lets him run off (After all he knows he'll play hero and go 'save' Mabel) Dipper goes in Wendy doesn't she's knocked out and then 2 bubbles, Dipper thinking he's saving Mabel.

Bill is manipulating Ford and totally agreeing 'Yep our kids' and is trying to get Ford to agree so one happy family.

The thing is the kids are getting powers in bubbles and are able to connect though mindscape, realize they're both trapped and bust out Mabel explaining what she heard and Dipper is shocked.

They find Grunkle Stan and the others and start explaining... Stan is facepalming 'Oh god damn it you kids believe that now to??' HOW AM I THE ONLY RATIONAL ONE IN THIS FAMILY?

#gravity falls #gf #au #fic prompt #billford #bill cipher #stanford pines #ford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #humor #bill x ford #bill x stanford #stan pines #stanley pines #weirdmageddon #gaslit falls

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trashcanplant · 9 months ago

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The Harvest

Mob Au to @//clownsuu

Penny to @cherrythepuppet

Vince to @cloudy-dreams

TW: Spooky scary scarecrows send shivers down your spine! Rotting meat.

Grover sat at the bar, keeling over a hearty glass of rye whiskey like there was no tomorrow. He felt miserable, grabbing at his chest and struggling to breathe. His mind spaced out, and when he came back to reality, Penny was sitting beside him.

“Ugh… what do you want.” He groaned, slamming back another cup. Grover let Howdy finish pouring him a new one before he turned back to Penny.

With the changing of the seasons in full swing and clumps of leaves layering the ground, she had now taken a poofy feather boa oon her bare shoulders. The little lady raised her eyebrows at him as a snarky grin graced her lips.

“Hi.” She said quickly, turning to Howdy and raising her finger. He nodded silently and started to prepare a Shirley Temple.

“Doesn’t answer my question.” Grover grumbled worthlessly, sinking into the bar stool like his roots were planting into the ground.

“Well, Scarycrow—“ Penny began before a cough from Grover interrupted her.

“Not my name.” He growled. Penny rolled her eye.

“Yeah, anyway, Boss told me to tell you ‘Feed him’ So. Feed him. Whatever that means. Has he started talking in third person?” She questioned, looking down at the pear bracelets over her opera gloves. Grover perked up. He looked out the window, downed his drink, and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Penny asked, reaching for her drink that Howdy had just finished shaking and topping with whipped cream and cherries. Her eye followed Grover as he grabbed a coat.

“Out.” He said. This piqued Penny’s curiosity. She’d heard from Antoni that Grover wasn’t allowed ‘out’ without permission. She hopped from her barstool, chasing Grover into the night.

“You’re not allowed out! Boss said-“

“Boss told me that I need to go when he gives the word. Where the fuck are those birds..” He growls, eyes on the skies as he listens for a distant cawing. His eye spots two birds, barely visible behind the night sky as they cry from their branch. Grover huffs, turning to Penny.

“You’re helping me make a delivery.” He said sharply, practically dragging her by the arm to one of the cars.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She shouts, struggling against his grasp.

“Help me make the delivery and I get you whatever treat you want.” Grover replies, getting her in the car. It’s not the usual continental that he’d drive. It’s a pickup truck, back covered with a tarp. Penny sits in the passenger seat, holding her arm nervously.

“Fine.”

And they drive off into the night. Penny watched as the lights from the city began to dim. The truck passed by the warehouse that marked the edge of town and drove farther than that and parked at the tree line. Grover got out of the truck and took the cover off the truck bed.

It was a cacophony of flies, buzzing over the top half of a deer. It had been ripped in half, and smelled like it had been a long time since it had died. Its guts had stained the bed red and maggots had begun to creep through the deers skin and pelt. Grover looked down on it, grabbing it and easing it out of the truck. It hit the ground with a somehow wet squelch. Something leaked from the deer.

“Help me.” Grover said, and when Penny got around the truck she screamed. It alerted the crows which dotted the trees, and Grover slapped a still wet glove against her mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. Vince don’t like noise.” He commanded. Penny stared at him with a wide eye, shivering in her unfit-for-weather dress.

“Grab the back.” Grover said, looking over his shoulder into the tree line. Penny squirmed, reaching down to try and carry her half of the weight. It was unfair, Grover had to lean all the way down and walk backwards into the trees with Penny trying to direct him in the dim light. He was pricked by several brambles and stabbed with sticks.

When the pair passed the tree line and entered the clearing, it was like walking into the world’s most terrifying sculpture park. The figures were all in the midst of fleeing. To the untrained eye it would look like wood carvings, but the way that the flies landed on them and how new branches grew from they eye sockets and mouths of these people made it obvious that it wasn’t just sculpture.

Grover and Penny carried the deer, sticks crunching under their shoes. The two approached the center of the field and Grover dropped the deer. He looked around at the stillness, searching for something in the trees. Penny felt uncomfortable, her head on a swivel as she looked through the field. She could have sworn she saw one of the bodies still breathing.

Grover whistled, taking a step away from the dearly departed deer.

“Watch em feast.” He said with a little grin on his face. The crows flooded from tree line, swooping at the carcass. Grover laughed, and Penny turned over her shoulder to see a hunched over figure with dark eyes and an elongated mouth. She screamed, grabbing onto Grover who looked down at her.

When his eyes landed on Vince in the darkness, reaching out to grab Penny, Grover swatted his hand away.

“No, Vince. I get’cher real hungry to have someone new join ya but not her. She’s family.” Grover said, staring at Vince as the cut noose swayed around his neck. They held eye contact. Vince opened his mouth and murmured something in a low, unfamiliar tone that sent chill down Penny’s spine.

“Look, how bout next time I bring one here fer ya I’ll letcha do yer tree thing an’ all that. I like them screams too, gotta admit..” Grover said with a low chuckle. Vince had a raspy laugh, not saying a word but staring at Penny. Grover looked down at her again.

“Her names Penny. I needed an extra set a hands pullin’ the deer. I know ya like a bit of a scaredy-cat, but I got reprimanded by Wally when I had brought Poppy out here. You ‘member her, Vince? Real tall bird broad?” Grover said. Penny had a look of horror plastered on her face as she kept a grip on Grover’s pants. Vince did not respond, reaching out a finger to graze against Penny’s skin. The taller of the scarecrows grabbed at the other, holding his gloved hand tightly.

“I’ll see what I can fix up fer ya. But not her. Not her.” Grover said protectively. The crows behind him cawed as they finished their feast and flew back into the trees. The plot was silent again, save for Vince’s ragged breathing. Penny stared up at Grover, then at Vince.

“D’ya need help spreading the bones across the field?” Grover asked. He gave Penny a little pat, a nonverbal way of telling her to head back to the truck. As she began to walk away, Vince turned his head with an audible creak. Grover kept his attention, talking to him calmly.

It took over an hour for Grover to return to the pickup truck. Penny was asleep, her head against the window. Grover glanced out the driver side window at Vince who stood just beyond the tree line. He waved goodbye, then turned around on the road to drive home.

From just under Penny’s opera glove, a small leaf began to sprout.

#welcome home oc #grover haymaker #penny peaches #vince vineyard #mob au #welcome home au #welcome home mob au #mob grover haymaker #mob penny peaches #mob Vince vineyard #planty stories

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waokevale · 1 year ago

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The Overlapped AU [Aka Superhumans disguisted as Dinner Theater workers]

The Owners

The Managers (Engineer & the HR person)

The Waiters

The Security

The Performers (Wes is mostly on cleaning duty though)

The Kitchen staff (the others are usually tasked to help, though very few are actually trusted at all times to be there)

The Bartender and the Host

The Dishwashers

The Clerk & The Supplier

So this AU came to me upon a dream, and I just had to make it real...

The synopsis below:

The event of April 17th 1906 does happen, however instead of Charlie and Maxwell being kidnapped into the Constant, the Constant overlaps with the real world and spreads itself onto Earth.

Charlie and Maxwell in the process become corrupted and have to hide away temporarily. Both of them soon began to hear strange voices, source of which neither is quite sure, telling them, compelling them to hide the corruption's effect from the publicity, for the time being.

They come to a mutual realization they have to fix this mess somehow and hunt down any and all corrupted by the tome, by any means necessary.

(Maxwell still has codex umbra, but it is sealed shut for the time being until he's sure it won't spread more if Their influence. )

But the corruption didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's been leaking way long before Maxwell found the Codex, if to a less prominent extent.

Thus, in few years passing, they form a Dinner Theater, a rather inconspicuous establishment from the first glance. Very quickly they began "hiring" employees, which in reality means tracking down and blackmailing those who have been corrupted but not fully lost themselves to its effects, in order to hunt those who had.

Winona was against the idea at first, as she found out. But seeing the effects of corruption first hand, she quickly had a change of heart and integrated herself into Charlie's new environment.

Eventually they gathered a rather generous amount of people. Once a person's proven to be trustworthy to a point, they're give higher positions in the company.

However those who aren't, are likely to be shunned or "fired" which...you could probably guess what that means.

Many of these people gradually come to terms with the reality of their situation and accept their newfound purpose, being thankful that at least they still have a roof over their head and a warm meal, instead of being viewed as monsters or outcasts to the greater society.

(Wilson though, can't quite accept this notion. He keeps claiming that "this is just a big misunderstanding, I'm just a normal guy!" Yet the truth could be far from it.)

When Maxwell and Charlie hear of the danger looming, they immediately inform their "staff" of the matter. Those who are more experienced in combat come along to face whatever opponent may cross them, while those who aren't, stay behind, to be an additional aid or a medic in case the battle gets too intense.

Whenever any suspicion arises in the town about the shady business going on in that particular building, the two owners alongside their employees practically gaslight anyone and everyone into believing they're but the most regular entertainment center.

The characters who have either willingly or unwillingly lost their humanity, mostly in the physical sense, are given special devices constructed of Thulecite and bits of nightmare fuel (made by Winona, Wicker and the main two), which effectively hide away their true identity, or surpress the effects of their ailment.

There's also a few other people important to this story, especially the One, which even Charlie and Maxwell refer to as "The Boss", though what many most recent hires don't know, is that there's someone who's in a position much higher than the owners themselves, controlling their every move.

Correlating to that, another person, or rather, a set of people per se, working for a much different cause. Though most of them are "people" in only a visual sense of the word.

And while, there might be someone inside the well-known around town diner, who just might be more than what appears on the surface, literally and metaphorically this time.

__________

If you're interested to learn more about this AU, do let me know. If you have any questions, I'm happy to hear and answer them!

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littleroaes · 5 months ago

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To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz

PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.

GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)

WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )

WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k

playlist i listened to while writing

this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

01 . CHAPTER ONE

IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed.

And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows.

You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs.

And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold.

There are five of them.

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun.

Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ).

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ).

And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back.

Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes.

When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.

( next morning )

“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light.

“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again.

Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?”

You sigh, sprint up the second floor.

“Y/n?”

Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely.

“What?”

“The letters…”

Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?”

“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall.

“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.”

He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse.

“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead.

“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit.

You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city.

To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

02 . CHAPTER TWO

( tuesday afternoon )

The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city.

Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door.

So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.

“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile.

“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right.

“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.”

The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose.

“Jaehyun.”

You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice.

Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink.

Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players.

He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe.

“Yeah.”

You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear.

Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.

He talks suddenly.

“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle.

Fuck.

Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you.

A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–”

“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong.

You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes.

“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae.

“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.”

“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.

“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail.

“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders.

You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit.

“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.”

No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back.

“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door.

“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before.

You side eyes him still and sits up.

“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.

“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice.

“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone.

The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit.

“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.”

You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious.

“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him.

“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders.

As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again.

“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.

His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it.

“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.

“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”

The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.

“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees.

“Too bad, too bad.”

It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again.

“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?”

You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?

You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.”

Hyunjae smirks.

“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.”

“Sure.” He nods.

You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.”

He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.”

“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.”

( friday evening )

“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.

From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink.

One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on.

He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him.

“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand.

“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.

Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear.

Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves).

“Not so fast.”

Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully.

“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner.

Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks.

“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow.

You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe.

“Now I’m yours.” He smiles.

Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house.

With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens.

Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out.

After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again.

There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat.

At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square.

You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions.

Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass.

All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month.

There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.

You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room.

When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences.

Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book.

It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?”

“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings.

It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone.

“Sorry.” You deadpan.

“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off.

You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks.

At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub.

Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party.

As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first.

“Oh, Y/n.”

He smiles, still holds the book before him.

You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.”

“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence.

The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously.

“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly.

“Why are you here?” You ask.

Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk.

“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively.

With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page.

“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.

You nod.

“We all do.”

You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence.

As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing.

But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option).

You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. .

“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly.

You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.”

“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle.

Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.”

Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?”

Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap.

To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after).

There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers.

“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.

“Oh.”

The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again.

“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.

“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor.

“Mindy?” He says.

“Oh, Yeah.”

They both laugh.

“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.”

As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol).

Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub.

“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open.

“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.”

“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back.

The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room.

Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls.

A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain.

“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.”

“I am?”

It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness.

From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree.

“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return.

“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest.

“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame.

“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing.

“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.”

His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state.

Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs.

There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end.

“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.”

You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down.

“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him.

Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist.

He starts, “I need your name, I should call–”

“Sunwoo!”

It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above.

“Jaehyu–”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you.

Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense.

“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.”

“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans.

After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path.

While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back.

“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated.

“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms.

“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back.

The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow.

Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him.

Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face.

“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence.

“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you.

“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette.

Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.”

He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.”

03 . CHAPTER THREE

( saturday midday )

Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut.

Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs.

Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric.

The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps.

There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.

“Oh–Hi, Y/n.”

“Oh, Juyeon?”

He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line.

“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him.

“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead.

Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?”

“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it.

You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”

He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”

You nod.

Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head.

“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity.

“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.”

“Really?”

Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?”

“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”

“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack.

“Jump on.”

To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt.

Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.”

At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.

That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly.

At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting.

He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks.

Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator.

“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap.

She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat.

An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes.

Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside.

“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.”

You look up, “Oh.”

The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap.

Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head.

“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings.

Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..

“Is that Mum Mew?”

Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet.

Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.”

They sit there until the lady comes out again.

“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”

The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing.

"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer.

“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair.

“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”

“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother.

“Oh, you see!”

You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does.

After another conversation, the topic returns.

“So when did you meet?”

Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither.

Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.”

Lady nods, “Since when?”

“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?”

“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.”

He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile.

“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.

You freeze.

“Then I confessed in university.”

The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both.

For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass.

You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to.

None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air.

All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay.

After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood.

Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat.

Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it.

“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers.

“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.”

Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.”

“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat.

Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.

“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits.

He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’.

And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor.

“Really?” You say surprised.

He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.”

You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t.

“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly.

“What?” You lean away.

“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!”

Still the same skeptical expression answers him back.

“I’m really serious Y/n.”

Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.”

You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders.

“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks.

Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.”

“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders.

A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.

You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too.

“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears.

You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”.

You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers.

“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring.

This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop.

“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips.

A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move.

Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”

He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.”

04 . CHAPTER FOUR

( tuesday, morning )

“Where’s the psychiatrist?”

“At the library.”

“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans.

To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it.

“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down.

“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side.

They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces.

Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week.

“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph.

The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.

At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate.

After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow.

“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs.

“Did anything happen?”

Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted.

Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time?

He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers.

Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence.

Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae.

You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight.

Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past.

World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated.

Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party.

Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines.

“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision.

To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak.

“What?”

“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats.

A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head.

“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.”

Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world.

You smile, “You’re trying to place me…”

Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye.

“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?”

You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time.

“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.”

The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp.

“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within.

“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly.

“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs.

While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer.

His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again.

You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from.

“Bye Y/n, see you around!”

It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals.

By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only.

“You never take water with you, Ice God.”

While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun.

“You’re close with Sunwoo?”

Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.”

Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses.

“Let’s run.” He says.

“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain.

He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.”

White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats.

Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does.

You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable.

He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot.

“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch.

They stand still catching breath.

“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers.

“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you.

He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look.

“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X.

“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently.

( tuesday, afternoon )

“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.”

‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.

It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’.

Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer.

This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret.

You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric.

Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you.

When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up?

One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.

Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace.

Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted.

When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders.

The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear.

Suddenly you feel a bit insecure.

“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back.

Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain.

“, and it fits you.”

A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing.

Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles.

“Thank you, Jaehyun.”

His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too.

It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice.

He starts, “You did grea-”

“Y/n!”

A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe.

With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped.

Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses.

“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!”

Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid.

Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why.

It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic.

“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact.

Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth.

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away.

It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away.

“I’m sorry.” You finally say.

It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again.

Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart.

“I was-”

“It’s oka-”

There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks.

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you.

The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular.

A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling.

Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past.

As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field.

“I actually like you too, Y/n.”

It hitches in your throat.

“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks.

“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why.

The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot.

It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside.

05 . CHAPTER FIVE

( thursday, afternoon )

Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games.

Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come.

One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened.

Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely.

And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same.

With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”.

He doesn’t get it.

“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling.

“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup.

“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head.

All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot.

But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned.

All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain.

There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages.

Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room.

You suddenly shout, “Move!”

Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power.

You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads.

As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring;

where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest.

“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor.

“I’m sorry-”

Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.

“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net.

You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome.

“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up.

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.

“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.”

Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure.

“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.”

He pauses.

“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.

You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.”

“You think so?” He skeptically smiles.

To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..”

“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.

They both laugh.

Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch.

They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why.

When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields.

With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out.

“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion).

“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm.

“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs.

“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?”

“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face.

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.

You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.”

Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.”

“Don’t do this.” You complain.

“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth.

“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.

There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend.

The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball.

“I missed.” He deadpan.

You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon.

( friday, morning )

“Do you want some?”

Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp.

When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary.

When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.

Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip.

So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack.

“You stole my pocky?”

Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from.

“I didn’t steal it.” He defends.

“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.”

“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them.

“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you.

“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing.

“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm.

“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat.

Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points.

Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n.

“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face.

Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you.

“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down.

Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder.

Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song.

A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round.

He dares to look down. He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own.

“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer.

“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him.

“You do it then.” He smiles.

Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.”

“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless.

“Okay, okay.”

Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair.

“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder.

“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink.

“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand.

“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal.

They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong.

At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.

It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling.

“Y/n!”

You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek.

“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point, nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work.

“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color.

“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms.

“No, no, no, it’s just heat.”

“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen.

“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.

It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off.

It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups.

His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in.

Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net.

Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts.

It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way.

Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too.

“I have some for you.”

You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier.

“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate.

“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food.

A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral.

“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine.

“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.”

You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?”

“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.”

“My stones?” You tilt.

“You.”

Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies.

Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.”

You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.”

Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious.

“You remember that?” He says surprised.

“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them.

“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly.

Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms.

Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age.

He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side.

“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say.

Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.

He smiles, “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”

You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.”

You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence.

As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him.

And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing.

Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good.

“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence.

Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.

“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin.

Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell.

You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them.

“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple.

And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining.

They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close.

“You know…” He starts.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing.

“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.”

“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way.

“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.

“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out.

“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes.

“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes.

“I’m actually a Capricorn.”

Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again.

“You’re really cute.” He smiles.

You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?”

He nods that his fringe follows.

“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.

You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.”

He pouts with big eyes.

“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly.

“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots.

You pretend to think, “Hmm.”

There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room.

The door from the kitchen beside them forces open.

Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor.

When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest.

The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes.

“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?”

Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story.

Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die.

“Eric?” You lie down.

“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you.

“I forgot.”

Eric snorts, “Really?”

“Mm.” You insist.

Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”.

Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field.

The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely.

I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you.

For now, he’s in denial.

Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently.

06 . CHAPTER SIX

( monday, midday )

The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels.

This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time.

Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles.

But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon.

So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight.

Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third.

Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left.

Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.”

Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name.

It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you.

Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows.

“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively.

“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.

“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking.

( monday, afternoon )

The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk.

With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again.

Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase.

You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across.

“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently.

“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward.

You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, “Are you okay?”

An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen.

Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question.

When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?”

A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade.

“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass.

All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head.

A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly.

“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that.

It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life.

Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off.

It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up.

You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders.

“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up.

The space opens again.

“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers.

“I’m sorry.”

A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything.

You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became.

“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.”

He looks up.

You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly.

“But you’re actually very kind.”

He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression.

“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently.

You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles.

( wednesday, afternoon )

That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place.

At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet.

You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something.

“You’re sad.”

You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention.

“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently.

You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin.

“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired.

“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down.

You nod.

“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon.

“Honesty is always valued.”

“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen.

“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.”

You smile weakly.

07 . FINAL CHAPTER

( saturday, evening )

Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows.

You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps.

Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely.

At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted.

It has never felt so hard knocking on his door.

The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you.

Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods.

“Welcome in!”

You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject.

As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking.

“Do you know where Eric is?”

He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms.

“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him.

Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric.

Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him.

Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward.

“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you.

You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.”

A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too.

Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water.

He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t.

“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting.

He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles.

You smile too and nod.

His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool.

“...and I’m not sure he likes me back…therefore it can’t be you.”

Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body.

Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.

“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it.

“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.”

He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.”

Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond.

His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.”

They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go.

Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows.

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house.

Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.”

Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood.

Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met.

All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up.

Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins.

You found him.

To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away.

About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you.

“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does.

You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes .

“You’re crying?”

You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.

“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical.

“I’ll tell you later.”

After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.

You start, “I have something to tell you.”

Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts.

You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest.

“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue.

“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment.

“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window.

“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–”

“I love you too.”

“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization.

“I love you too.” He stutters more this time.

Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement.

You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you.

“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says.

You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter.

“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?”

Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking.

“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.”

You pause.

“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position.

“Not when you exist.”

He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face.

You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer.

Though, Sunwoo has other plans.

The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts.

You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world.

a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power

love spectrum spoiler

have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin

romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae

end game : sunwoo

tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o

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koqabear · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii congrats on 2k sol obsessed with everything you write!!!!💓 Could I request revisiting emo boy? Like what their relationship is like after and dates and how sex is like? Maybe beomgyu’s band really blows up and he’s quite busy, how does oc respond to this? And with smut? Tysm!!💝

playlist // beomgyu's encore outfit hehe // cont. of hey emo boy!

“The day of your one-year anniversary with Beomgyu was expected to be spent away from each other— but not if either of you can help it, far too in love to let anything get in the way of you two.”

bassist!beomgyu x fem!reader // wc: 6.6K (everyone stfu rn) // genre: band au, opposites attract trope, established relationship, smut, tooth rotting fluff tbh, MDNI.

warnings: they are in love and it’s fucking GROSS!! barely edited, the two have hella piercings hehe (bg: snake bites, tongue, eyebrow // mc: smiley & nipple piercings) pet names (sweet thing, pretty, etc.) use of the L word bc they are literally obsessed w/ each other.

smut warnings: hard dom! gyu, sub!mc, needy sex sorry 😖, marking, manhandling, dry humping, biting, breast play, possessiveness, unprotected sex, bg picks the mc up, scratching, dacryphilia, dumbification, a lot of kissing lol, degrading, slight praise, fingering, creampie, cum eating…? lmk if i should add anything !

Notes: happy (late) birthday to the fic that’s probably my peak… this story single handedly changed the course of my blog me thinks. thank you to everyone who was just as affected by emo gyu as i was.

Being in a committed relationship with Choi Beomgyu, bassist of Tomorrow x Together and an absolute unattainable heartthrob, was not very easy.

It was at first; with their blossoming career, it was more about the music than their looks. Fans were loyal simply because they liked their sound, their message, the way their concerts were filled with such energy and passion it left their hearts beating with adrenaline after— but of course, it’s hard to not notice the absolute eye candy on stage; low-lidded gazes, dark stage lights that barely highlighted their stunning features, and clothing that was just as alluring and flattering as the rest of them; inevitably, their popularity sky-rocketed, for better and for worse.

Beomgyu was left with more money than he knew what to do with. Most of the time, it was used to spoil you, his pretty girlfriend he brought with him everywhere because he was just too obsessed with you— it made his band members wonder if he simply had attachment issues by how much his world revolved around you. But no, you were just as bad as him; present during rehearsals, always in the studio to cheer them on or give them a second opinion on a new song; it wasn’t long before you ended up befriending the rest of them as well, a tight bond forming simply because of all the things you went through together.

As unfortunate as it was, they weren’t the only ones forced to bear with negative and hateful encounters from the public; while they had their experiences of being mistreated early in their career, you had to deal with immature or creepy fans that had taken a liking to harass you— inboxes on all social media platforms flooded constantly, your number even leaked once as you were forced to buy a new phone all together from how badly you were being spammed— Beomgyu had been quick to lash out and tell them to leave you alone if they didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands.

Overtime, they adjusted to their popularity. Schedules slowly became filled to the brim, their dream now a reality as they spent months on tour— and while you were more than happy and proud of them and their flourishing career, it’d be a lie to say it was all one happy and perfect life.

You hadn’t seen Beomgyu in ages— decades, centuries, eons— in other words, two weeks.

The band had more interviews and performances than you could keep up with; if they weren’t on some random talk show, they were at a photoshoot, getting interviewed for the next issue of a magazine you’d undoubtedly have on your coffee table the day it came out. Promotions, nights at the studio, it all added up— and before you knew it, your one year anniversary began to creep up, and all hopes to celebrate it properly dwindled down in your heart— but, having him here with you today was enough.

You didn’t blame Beomgyu; you weren’t angry or upset, because it was simply something neither of you could control. And though it did suck knowing you wouldn’t be able to spend such a meaningful day together, it felt a little better to know that you weren’t the only one hung up on it.

On the contrary— you think Beomgyu might be handling this worse than you.

“Baby, baby please,” he cries, refusing to let go of you and cuddling closer to you instead, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets as he cups your face fondly, “pleaaase I know you said I shouldn’t feel bad but please come on tour with us this week, I think I’ll seriously die if you’re not here this time.”

“Gyu, baby, I really shouldn’t—” you say quietly, only to get cut off by his excessive whining and teary eyes. His bottom lip is jutted out in a ridiculous pout, squeezing your cheeks and holding back a smile at the way your lips puff out as a result; you attempt to push him off you, only for him to retaliate by rolling entirely on top of you, a loud squeal escaping you at the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress, his stupid face hovering over yours as he continues to plead you quietly.

“Pleaaseee?” he whines, pressing his flat palms against your cheeks and getting your lips to puff out again; he ignores your half-hearted protests for him to get the fuck off, choosing to punctuate his every word with a kiss instead, his piercings a sharp contrast to his plump lips that crash against you with every word.

“Please?” kiss. “Won’t you,” kiss. “come with us?” another kiss.

“Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—”

He’s practically suffocating you at this point, refusing to pull away and mumbling the words against your lips, laughs breaking between the two of you as you yell at him to get off, that you can barely breathe with him on top of you; you’re pushing at his shoulders weakly as he continues to tease you, your unabashed laugh contagious as he quickly finds himself smiling as well— he only pulls away once he hears you yell a loud fuck, okay! Hovering over you with bright eyes and a wide grin.

His arms snake around your waist before he’s rolling over, successfully switching so that you’re the one on top of him— he ignores the loud and exaggerated sigh of relief you let out.

“It won’t make much of a difference though,” you say quietly, hiding in the crook of his neck as you confess your doubts, “You’ll be too busy and exhausted the whole day, I really don’t want me to be added to your list of concerns.”

You went on tour with him, once— but you learned it was better off to not be anywhere backstage with him during those times, the boy too concerned and constantly doting on you to remain focused; any mistakes he made hitting much harder, a subconscious pressure to be perfect and give his all only trifolded by your presence.

“What? No,” he says immediately, sitting back on his elbows and causing you to look up at him in response; his brows are furrowed and he seems a bit baffled by your comment, shaking his head adamantly to emphasize his point, “I like having you there. I know you like being there, I want you there— I wouldn’t be asking you to come with me if I thought you were a burden.”

He managed to pull out the exact words you were trying to skirt around— your face heats up at his reassurance, much too intimidated by the intensity of his gaze as you bury your face into his chest instead; his chest bounces from the laugh he lets out, flopping onto his back once more and hugging you close, bodies pressed flush against each other and one of his legs thrown around your waist in a childish attempt to pull you even closer.

“Plus, don’t you wanna visit Europe with me?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he feels you nod shyly; he knows just how much you enjoy the travel aspect to his career, constantly asking for pictures or to facetime while he’s gone, “I wanna show you all my favorite spots this time, and not through some glitchy facetime— I wanna spend time with you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, shut up,” you groan, hitting his chest weakly as he simply laughs at you softly, “you’re so corny.”

“You love it,” he coos, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, biting back a smile at the way he can feel your breath even out— you remain silent. Partly because you’re falling asleep from his touch, and partly because he’s right.

⤬⤬⤬

Europe is breathtaking— you’ve never been so grateful for Beomgyu’s stubborn, persistent mind.

The tour has gone as perfect as always, spending a few days at their shows before you simply resigned to stay at the hotel instead; after seeing that Beomgyu was so distracted trying to look for you during a show that he missed his cue (and played the notes wrong to another song) you found it better to wait for him and see him after instead— ready to help him wind down and relax after another energetic, adrenaline-inducing show.

Most nights consisted of you practically carrying him to the bathtub; cooing soft reassurance as he whined about how tired and sore he felt, shampooing his hair, massaging his scalp and tense shoulders— most of the time, he’d fall asleep then and there, and it’d be another hassle to wake him up and get him out. You’d lure him out of the tub and wait for him to change into your matching pajamas— hello kitty ones, his idea, not yours— and greet him in the bed with a warm embrace and lips that peppered kisses all over his face.

It was during these moments you found humor in the contrast of his stage persona to his true self; from his usual attire, chokers and ripped clothes, wardrobe consisting of black and multiple piercings that decorated his ears and face, your thumb brushing over his newest eyebrow piercing fondly— versus the man that slept soundly in your arms now, long hair tied back and cute pink barrettes clipping back his bangs, donned in hot pink fuzzy pajamas— and you’re sure that if his band members saw him like this, they’d never stop teasing him.

You didn’t have to wait long to confirm that thought; Beomgyu didn’t bother changing as he met up with the others in Yeonjun’s room for breakfast the next morning, tugging you along and remaining unfazed at the way his band members burst out laughing the moment he entered the room— you felt a bit bad at the way you found yourself laughing as well, even more so because you’re the only reason he’s found himself dressed like this. (But again, he was the one who bought these clothes in the first place.)

“Happy anniversary, you two,” Yeonjun muses, smiling at the way you’re the only one who seems to process that, chirping out a cheery thank you! as you proceed to drag Beomgyu to the couch, “I feel bad that we have a concert today, ___. As vomit-inducing as it is seeing you two, you do deserve to spend the day together.”

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, brushing his teasing comment off and holding back a smile at the way Beomgyu is still struggling to gain consciousness, more tired than you thought as he simply stares at his waffles for a moment before finally digging in, “at least he’s spending the day doing something he loves.”

“Gross,” Hueningkai says, scrunching his nose playfully before laughing at the glare you send him, “you two are so mushy, it’s painful.”

The rest of the day leading up to the concert is spent peacefully; once Beomgyu has gained enough coherence to fight back against the member’s jabs, he’s pulling you away to show you new sights and stores he discovered from his previous visits, spoiling you beyond belief and buying anything you look at for a second too long; you end up with more bags than you know what to do with, and Beomgyu refuses to let you carry a single one as he proceeds to take you one of his go-to restaurants, as he told you; saying he’s been wanting to bring you here since the moment he found it, smiling brightly when he sees you enjoying the food as much as he did.

To say he’s reluctant to leave you to go to the concert venue is an understatement; you think he might start crying at any given moment as he stares at you with shining eyes, unable to let go of your hand as he stands by the door of the hotel room— not quite ready to leave yet, but knowing that he must eventually as he chooses to bring you in for another slow, loving kiss instead.

“Are you sure you’re not coming tonight?” he asks you, trying to hide the sadness in his voice and failing miserably.

“And make you fuck up your setlist? I don’t think so,” you try to joke, only to panic slightly at the way his eyes gloss over; your hand immediately jumps up to cup his face, laughing softly at his expression as he simply pouts at you ridiculously.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you lean over to his ear, voice dropping to nothing but a whisper as you let your lips brush against his ear, “I’ll have a nice surprise for you tonight, so you better give your best show out there, okay?”

The low lilt of your voice is enough to have him perking up immediately; mouth parted slightly as he stares at you, unsure of what else to do but nod pathetically, knowing he won’t be able to control himself if he thinks about what you might have in store for too long.

With one last chaste kiss, he’s leaving— and only because Soobin was pounding at the door, telling him they’d be late if he didn’t go out this instant— you think he might start crying as he gives you one last pouty glance, waving to you sadly before he slips out the door.

You’re left alone, the room suddenly much lonelier and quieter than it was a few seconds ago— and you laugh, checking the time and running to your suitcase to get your makeup and outfit for tonight.

A revealing shirt, a mini-skirt that’s a bit alarmingly short— you’re pulling out a sparkling, pink outfit like it’s nothing, throwing it all on and doing your makeup as you check the time absentmindedly; your phone lights up while you’re in the middle of doing so, and a notification reads that the staff are waiting for you outside to take you to the venue once you’re ready.

Beomgyu loves performing knowing you’re in the audience more than anything; it’s something he’s made blatant to you, knowing that despite his mistakes, despite his small distractions, his energy always goes out the roof the moment he spots you there. So you knew how distraught Beomgyu would be to hear that you’re not going to the show tonight despite being able to, but the thought of surprising him is much more enticing than you’d like to admit.

With one last check of your appearance in the mirror, you grab a jacket before you go; Beomgyu’s favorite oversized zip-up, the clothing item a stark contrast to the rest of your feminine and bright attire— and you smile, adjusting the purse on your shoulder before you’re off to the hotel lobby, where the staff are waiting and ready to escort you safely.

The venue is almost full by the time you get there; you’re escorted straight to your barricade seats front and center, smiling shyly and waving at fans that seem to recognize you; your face feels hot and you walk faster at the way they get excited at the sight of you, not used to the fame that comes with being Beomgyu’s girlfriend— hell, you really don’t know how Beomgyu does it.

You’re more than relieved once the concert begins, any attention that still lingered on you immediately getting stolen by the boys that appeared on stage; you winced slightly at the loud screams all around you, unable to help the way you eventually joined in— morphing into another fan in the crowd, the venue much too dark for any of the boys to recognize you just yet.

They looked stunning in their concert outfits; the professional, matching and dark outfits tailored perfectly to each member, intricate with chains and rosaries and pretty layers. Your eyes widen as you watch Beomgyu walk to his position, taking note of his hair that has now been dyed back to black— you hadn’t realized how long it’d gotten until now, the layers framing his face and falling into his eyes as he goes to push back his bangs with a delicate hand.

There are no introductions tonight— the music begins immediately, loud and abrasive and making the crowd jump along excitedly, screaming the lyrics and reaching out to try and get one of the members to pay attention to them— on the contrary, you try to remain hidden, looking away and bowing your head every time Beomgyu’s gaze sweeps around your area.

God, you wish Beomgyu didn’t turn into such a ditz whenever he spotted you in the audience— because then you’d be able to enjoy more of their concerts, addicted to the borderline euphoric feeling you get from attending them, only for it to be multiplied as your eyes catch onto your boyfriend performing, your heart pounding against your chest at the sound of his voice ringing out into the venue— a surge of pride and love fills you as a grin spreads on your face, and it isn’t until you notice a member walking around that you’re able to look away from him.

Looking up, you make eye contact with Hueningkai.

His mischievous smile and raised brows are immediately returned with a violent shake of your head; telling him to not say anything to Beomgyu, rubbing your hands together pleadingly the moment he glances back at the said man— then he turns to you, sending you a playful wink before he’s off to another section, not without sending you one last teasing grin and a wave; you’re glancing at Beomgyu in a panic, unsure if he’s spotted you, only to be relieved at the sight of him too concentrated on playing to even look up at the crowd.

It isn’t until the encore that they’ve all begun to move around, (save for Taehyun and Soobin, bound to their instruments as they’re resigned to simply wave at the crowd when they can) changed into more comfortable outfits during a small intermission— Beomgyu is decked in baggy jeans and an equally baggy shirt, long hair messy and makeup smudged as he walks along the stage, smiling and waving at fans that reach out for him— he plays his bass so effortlessly as he does, truly mesmerizing as he stops a few times to interact with fans; the sight has your heart fluttering hopelessly.

But the closer he gets, the more you’re buzzing with nervous energy. Gripping onto the barricade tightly, having stood up long ago with the rest of the fans that are eager to get their attention. Beomgyu’s eyes scan through the crowd thoroughly, smiling cutely and returning hearts until he spots you.

He freezes entirely.

He’s no longer playing bass— he’s just standing there, in complete shock as he stares at you. You can only muster to give him a sheepish wave, an uncontrollable grin on your face as you laugh at his dumbfounded expression, trying to yell at him to go back to playing. But he doesn’t, and you’re jumping slightly at the way he takes off his bass and jumps off the stage, security frantically following behind as he rushes over to you.

His hands are on your face and he’s pulling you in for a kiss quicker than you can process; you hear the screams of the crowd around you, but Beomgyu’s got you in his hold so tightly that you’re unable to pull away, left to give in and melt against him as he kisses you for a little longer. Your face feels as though it’s on fire by the time he’s pulled away, his own alight entirely with joy as he grins at you, your head still in his hands as he leans against the barricade excitedly— you think he might just jump over it any moment now.

“You’re here?” he says exasperatedly, eyes scanning you frantically as though he were imagining you, “why didn’t you tell me, you should’ve— I would’ve—”

“Beomgyu,” you cut him off, placing your hands over his and laughing at the way he can only stutter stupidly, brushing his hair behind his ear fondly— watching the way his eyes crinkle cutely as he smiles, your own sweeping over the array of piercings that decorate him, hello kitty earrings glinting under the light— and pry his hands off your face, ignoring the pout he sends you as you scold him instead. “Get back on stage!”

Your words seem to snap him out of his reverie; his head is whipping back to look at the stage, at the way his friends can only laugh at him teasingly and yell at him to get back here— the way Yeonjun yells directly into the mic is slightly embarrassing, shrinking at the way all eyes are on you as the man’s words ring out the venue— Beomgyu, get the fuck back here!

He’s only able to leave with one last chaste kiss— the crowd is screaming at the sight, and you’re resisting the urge to cover your face in weak hopes that it could take all this attention off you— but you’ll bear it, especially with the way Beomgyu mouths a cute I love you! before he’s jumping back on stage.

The poor boy is unable to take his eyes off you for the rest of the night— but on the bright side, there are no missed cues or wrong notes played. He’s just entranced with you for the rest of the encore, his energy seemingly replenished with the way he jams out to the music; mouthing the lyrics even when it’s not his part, maintaining eye-contact with you during songs he knows you’re particularly fond of— and suddenly, the idea of spending his anniversary at a concert isn’t as depressing as it was earlier tonight— because now, he had you by his side.

⤬⤬⤬

“Beomgyu— Beomgyu please, not here…” you whine, unable to do much but bite your lip and swallow back whines that threaten to escape you, left to Beomgyu’s mercy as he immediately led you to his dressing room after the show— the said man is much too focused on kissing and marking your neck to listen, soft hair brushing against your face as he pulls you flush against him; back pressed against the wall, arched prettily from the way his hands snake around your waist and press your lower half against his— you’re holding back a groan at the way he’s already hopelessly hard against you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be coming? Hmmm? Just wanted to be a tease? Was this your little surprise?” he asks, biting at your skin and huffing out a laugh at the whine that escapes you; your hands are gripping onto his shirt tightly, fisting it in your hands and wrinkling the material as he lets his teeth sink slightly near your collarbones, “god, you look so good tonight, you’d really expect me to be able to hold myself back?”

His hands are wandering down your waist; over the swell of your ass, fiddling with the hem of your mini-skirt before he’s venturing under it— feeling the way you shiver against him the moment his hands squeeze at the soft flesh, fingers decorated with rings cold against your skin as he comes back up to kiss you. It’s rough and desperate, lip rings scratching as he kisses you with such hunger it leaves you breathless; he grinds his cock desperately against you, eliciting a small gasp from you and allowing him to slip his tongue inside— the piercing that decorates it scrapes along your mouth, unable to help the way your knees weaken at the feeling of him— his touch is everywhere, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded as you can only melt against him, allowing him to press you flush against the wall with his own body; your miniskirt is riding up along your hips as he situates himself between your legs, panties already a mess as he begins to rut his cock into you.

“Are you sure you want to wait now, pretty?” he asks, looking down at you with low-lidded and fucked out eyes— he punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, laughing at the way you yelp and tighten your hold on him, “I could stop everything right now, send you back to the hotel like this and make you wait, just like you said— is that what you want?”

Oh, he’s cruel— even more so because you’re left shaking your head no deliriously, your mind fogged with such need that your eyes are glossing over at the very thought of not having Beomgyu inside you right now; your voice is pathetic as you plead Beomgyu to finish what he started, throwing a hand over his shoulder and entangling your fingers into his hair as you pull him back into you— he’s more than eager to return the kiss, tilting his head and pressing himself more against you as a hand reaches down to your thigh; grabbing the back of your knee, guiding you to hook it around his waist as he begins to rut into you mindlessly.

“So cute, my pretty girl,” he mumbles against your lips, eyes trailing down your low-cut top to spot his favorite zip-up, a smile tugging at his lips as he merely sends you a cute smile, “did you miss me that much? Already so needy from a little bit of kissing— god, I love you so much…”

You think he’s mostly talking to himself at this point— spewing nothing but filth as his hands shove your shirt over your chest, grinning as he remains impatient enough to not take off a single item of clothing, choosing to push tug your bra down harshly before he’s swooping down to mark your breasts with a cruel smile.

“Looked so fucking hot out there, just made me wanna take you backstage and fuck you there,” he confesses, listening to the choked whine you let out, his pierced tongue playing with your hardened nipples, leaving them swollen and sensitive. He’s looking up at you with doe eyes that contrast greatly with the way he sticks his tongue out for you, letting you watch the way he circles and toys with the cute jewelry he bought for you earlier today, pulling away with a coy smile and leaving them soaked with his spit— he blows softly on them, watching with tentative eyes as you keen at the feeling.

“God, you know I’ve been wanting to do this every time I see you at one of our shows? To make sure that everyone that looks at you knows just who,” he rolls his hips into you, nice and slow and letting you feel the length of his cock press against you as you flutter your eyes shut from pleasure, “you’re here for?”

“Fuck, gyu,” you pant out, snaking your hands under his shirt and up his back, grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him into you— as if there’s still space between the two of you, as if you’d die if you weren’t touching him at all times, “‘m only yours, only want you…”

He’s sneaking a hand down to move your panties to the side, the two of you much too desperate to shed off any layers— and as you listen to the clinking sounds of his belt, undoing his jeans and pulling out his hardened cock, you busy yourself by sucking and biting at his neck, listening to his stuttered breaths as you suck and tease at the joint of his neck, his most sensitive spot as you bite at it playfully— you’re only pulling away at the feeling of Beomgyu grabbing at you hair and tugging you away, letting out a baffled laugh at the satisfied look you give him in return.

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” you coo out softly, grinding your pussy slowly against Beomgyu’s tip that teases your entrance, your mouth falling open at the feeling of him mirroring the action, running along your folds and swiping at your clit, “all mine, my pretty boy…”

He laughs fondly against your lips at that— bringing you in for a slow kiss, feeling the way your mind goes blank the moment his tip slowing enters you; he’s swallowing a soft moan from you as he bottoms out slowly, keeping himself deep inside and grinding his hips slowly against yours— and he stays there, a tease like always as he watches your brows furrow and your lips pout, telling him softly to move, to do something.

“Mmmh, all yours,” he mumbles softly, pulling out slowly to let you feel the way every vein runs against your walls, clenching and fluttering against his length as he hisses at the feeling, “I’m yours, belong only to you, fuck…”

He’s not able to keep this agonizingly slow pace up for long— as much as he wants to tease you, to have you crying and pleading for him to fuck you stupid, he isn’t fairing that well himself— so it isn’t long before he’s beginning to snap his hips into you, cock curving and aiming for that spot that has your knees buckling, pretty nails digging into Beomgyu’s shoulders and biting at the skin in order to try to stabilize yourself.

“Such a perfect cunt— fuck, ah, just wanna fill you up, wanna see it dripping down those pretty thighs— stupid fucking skirt can’t hide anything, ugh—” his voice is deep and breathy as he continues to talk into your ear, his hands sliding down to the swell of your ass before he’s holding it there— lifting you up, forcing you to hook your legs around his waist as you’re left to his mercy; his chest is pressed flush against yours as he fucks you, and you can only bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your sounds, the rough way you bounce from his thrusts causing your nails to slip and scratch down his back— he hisses at the feeling, only to be spurred by the stinging sensation it leaves behind.

“So loud, shit,” he laughs meanly, grinning at the way you only bury your face into him more to try and muffle your sounds, “want everyone to hear you? All the staff, the members— I’m sure they’d like to see what a pretty doll you are for me.”

You shake your head at that— but your body gives you away as your cunt clenches around him pathetically, the wet sounds of skin against skin filling the room and undoubtedly filtering outside— but you remain persistent to keep your moans to yourself, choking back on sounds of pleasure as Beomgyu only begins to fuck you rougher; your silence is a challenge, one he’ll gladly take as he begins to roll his hips into you just the way you like it.

“Come on pretty, I wanna hear you,” he purrs into your ear, a hand snaking around to rub at your clit while the other remains firm on your ass, “don’t you feel good? I can make you feel even better— so, so so good, just let me hear your cute little sounds.”

You’re playing hard to get. And Beomgyu takes absolute pleasure in it, watching the way you shake and dig your nails into him helplessly, your body being wound up from how good he fucks you; your thighs are sticky and shining from your arousal, poorly concealed pleasure only fueling Beomgyu’s ego further as he reaches up to tug your head out from it’s hiding spot.

He thinks he might just cum on the spot; your makeup is ruined, tears of mascara running down your cheeks as you merely let out soft hiccups of moans, your lips parted and brain completely empty as you stare at him— he smiles at you in return, capturing your lips in another kiss as his hand begins to trail down; toying with your breasts, nimble fingers pinching and rolling your nipples as you jolt and whine into his mouth at the sensation.

“Gyu— gonna— need to, ah…!” the choked whimpers you let out aren’t enough for Beomgyu, and he only slows down at your request; fresh tears stream down your cheeks as you plead softly, breathy voice barely above a whisper as you whine quietly to keep going, don’t stop, please gyu, pleeaaase….

“Hmm? What’s that? I can’t hear you, baby,” he murmurs softly against your lips, slowing to nothing but a grind as he presses himself against you— pelvis grinding against your clit, the feeling making you tremble as you dig your nails into his shoulders once more. “Come on sweet thing, tell me what you need.”

You’re telling him— begging, pleading, breathy whimpers and soft cries escaping you as you roll your hips into him, biting your lip and sighing exasperatedly at the way he simply watches you with dark eyes, slowing down until he’s simply bottomed out inside you.

“What do you want?” he asks softly, breathy voice intertwined with a lilt so sweet you’d almost think he pities you— and by the way he’s looking at you, he just might, swollen lips caught between his teeth to try and suppress a smile. You’re still weak and quiet as you try to voice your wants, looking at him through wet lashes, a pout on your face as your hands run absentmindedly up and down his back.

“Wanna cum?” he coos, pretty hand reaching down to circle and pinch your clit teasingly, “Want me to fuck you? Fill you up? Hmmm?”

All you can do is nod along to his words stupidly— and obviously, it’s the very last thing your boyfriend wants, abandoning your clit and reaching up to grab your face roughly; fingers digging into your cheeks, forced to look at him as he merely glares at you and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Tell me,” he says, voice sharp and dangerous as he narrows his eyes, “use your words— or, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already.”

He’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist at that; you’re stumbling slightly, leg too weak to let you stand as you merely cry at him to wait, bringing him closer to you in fear that he might pull out and leave you like this— his fingers still dig into your cheeks as you speak, drool building up at the corners of your pouty lips as you stutter out exactly what you want— what he wants to hear.

“Want you to fuck me, use me— wanna cum, please,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes your head teasingly, as though to say and what else? “Want you to cum inside, baby please, just wanna feel good—”

You’re rambling at this point. But Beomgyu enjoys it nonetheless, telling you to keep going as he begins to move again; slowly at first, allowing you to feel the drag of his thick cock against your walls as your words become stuttered through weak moans, the sight making your boyfriend laugh as he slowly begins to pick up his pace.

“Like it when I fuck you like this, yeah?” you’re nodding in confirmation to his words; staring at him with pleading eyes, whimpering a soft harder, faster, that the man is immediately obliging as he coos at the way you yelp at the sensation. “Want it harder? Hmmm? Want me to fuck you ‘till you can’t even walk—? Have to carry you out of here, let everyone see the way your sweet cunt is filled up by me?”

All you can do is nod to his words at this point; whimpering a weak yes, yesyesyes, want you to fill me up, use me, more more please—

Everything crashes down on you unexpectedly; your eyes are shutting tight and you think you might just black out as your orgasm hit you suddenly, cunt squeezing and fluttering around Beomgyu’s cock as he groans at the sensation— he lets you ride it out, cooing soft praise into your ear before he’s pulling you in for another kiss; you’re barely able to kiss him back, moaning into his mouth and letting him do whatever he wants with you.

It isn’t long before he’s cumming inside you as well; you’re so tight he can barely move, your cute whimpers and warm cunt guiding him through it as he fucks into you slowly, making sure none of his release slips out as he continues to fuck you, even after he’s become horribly sensitive. Then he’s still, lips still on yours and arms wrapped tightly around you as though he’s afraid to let you go.

“You okay?” he asks quietly after a moment, still lingering close to you, taking in your appearance with tentative eyes. You nod softly, still attempting to catch your breath as you chest heaves against his; he huffs out a soft laugh, caressing your cheek fondly before he’s going to fix your clothes— your mini-skirt remains up on your hips, his cock still bottomed out inside you as he coos about how good you were for him, caressing any skin he can get his hands on (which is a lot, considering your wardrobe) with a smile.

“Pretty girl, so perfect,” he coos, finally pulling out and tucking himself in before he’s going to fix your clothing; not without slipping his fingers inside your cunt one last time, watching with hungry eyes as you curl into him and cry that you’re sensitive— he’s only satisfied after his cum is left snug in your pussy, smiling darkly at the way he brings his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean— you do it without any hesitation, and Beomgyu swears he might just be getting hard again.

“Love you so much, thank you for coming to see me today,” he says instead, bringing you in for a warm hug and a loving kiss; you merely hum tiredly in response, hands slipping out from his shirt only to be thrown over his shoulders leisurely.

Your face feels hot the moment he’s trying to get the two of you to leave back for the hotel— because your legs are absolutely not cooperating with you.

“Holy shit, I was joking about that whole fuck you till you can’t walk thing,” he laughs, only to get cut of by the way you hit him in response— he’s letting out an exaggerated whimper at that, rubbing his arm and telling you sorry, sorry baby, with a cute pout.

“Ugh, I don’t want anyone to see me like this, fuck,” you mourn, only for Beomgyu to pull you into his side firmly, sending you a smile that’s not as reassuring as you wish it was.

“I’m sure no one will notice,” he says simply, swinging the door open and immediately being met with Soobin passing by.

He slows down at the sight of you two, glancing at your appearances briefly before he keeps walking.

“Try to keep it down next time please,” he yells out, turning the corner and disappearing from your sight before you can retaliate. You feel slightly mortified by his words, but Beomgyu isn’t affected in the slightest as he leans over to murmur softly into your ear.

“Should we continue this at the hotel, pretty?”

You don’t answer his question. But he already knows the answer, sending you a giddy smile and intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you to where the staff car is waiting for you two— and you hold back a smile of your own as you trail (limp, kinda) behind him. It’ll be a long night, but you couldn’t ask for a better way to spend your anniversary, no matter how unconventional it is.

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