#right now my problem is heads up seven up and last lines are difficult cause im not drafting or revising I'm world building

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

YES

I'm currently slowly making my way through them.

I want to answer all of them so they easily pile up!

I love asks!! I love tag games!! I promise I will get to them!!

Just wanted to clear this thing up

Friendly reminder that if I haven’t answered your ask the same day, it means either: 

I want to treasure that ask forever

I dont feel up to social interaction

I didnt have time, and ended up forgetting about it

What it does NOT mean:

I dont like getting asks

You’re bothering me by sending asks

SAME APPLIES FOR UNANSWERED TAG GAMES!

[blogevaawrites]

Keeping to the schedule.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, sad, marriage, divorce, smut

Summary: After seven years of being married, two daughters and a difficult divorce, they try to understand what went wrong and why they let that happen. 

Part I

“I’m so sorry to do this but we’re having problems with a few scenes. I won’t be at home until next week.” He said from the other side of the line. Since the divorce we have been being very strict with the custody agreement of our children.

“So, will you come to pick them up the next Friday?” I asked.

“Yes, I will be there. And again, I’m really sorry, I tried to do everything in my hands” I knew that he doesn’t like to change anything about the kids, he says we should try to give them as much stability as we can. I couldn’t agree more.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” I simply said.

We got married seven years ago, we had a happy marriage, but loneliness and exhaustion made me give up on our marriage. He started to spend more time away, accepting more projects in L.A or any part of the world but home. I guess home wasn’t what it used to be for him and for me because eventually I stopped complaining about his absence.

“I need to talk to you.” I said when I saw him getting out of the shower. I closed the door of the bathroom and l leaned on the sink. “About what? I’m kind of tired, can we leave it for tomorrow?” He said, drying himself with a towel. I was sick of it; I was being left to a side for so long that I didn’t hold it on.  “Not really.” He looked at me then, normally I don’t insist. “I filed for divorce.” His face went from confusion to anger quickly.

We fought, he got really mad. I knew I should have talk to him before doing it, but he was never around, I was mad and sad, I wasn’t thinking properly. He didn’t talk to me for four months after that night, he moved to his mother’s house and did everything in his hands to accelerate the process. I know I didn’t deal very well with all of that and either he did. Our relationship since then got even more complicate.

Our obsession with our kids’ stability grew after that. We both knew they were going suffer the most, at least Anna. She was almost six when all of that happened, she asked a few times, but we never gave her an answer she could understand. Emma was only four, she noticed that something was wrong but was too young to assimilate it.  

“Mom, Lindsay is having a sleepover this Thursday, and we don’t have school on Friday, can I go? Her mom will call you tomorrow to ask you, can I go, please?” Anna asked, taking my attention from the road as I drove us to home.

“Sure honey” I said with my eyes on the road.

“Dad is coming on Friday, right? I will tell her mom to bring me back in the morning” she always gets excited to see him, both do it.

“It’s not necessary honey, he probably will come to pick you up after dinner. I will pick you up to get lunch together at the park, what do you think?” she nodded enthusiastic, eating her sandwich.

Thursday comes quickly and Martha, Lindsay’s mom, picked Anna up. Emma got to sleep very early after a long afternoon at the park. I went down to watch a few minutes a TV show before to go to bed. The doorbell rang, startling me, it wasn’t late, but I wasn’t expecting anybody. When I got close to the door, I recognized the silhouette of the person behind the door.

“Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I wrapped the film early, I’m sorry if it is too late but I knew you wouldn’t mind. You can have the entire day to yourself tomorrow, in this way.”

“It’s fine, but Anna is not here, she’s at Lindsay’s house and Emma is already sleeping.” He looked devastated and it broke my heart. He usually doesn’t spent too long without seeing them. “You can see Emma if you want to.” I offered and he accepted quickly. He got into the house and went upstairs to Emma’s room.

After a few minutes, he came down to the kitchen where I was preparing things for tomorrow. I wouldn’t say our relationship was good, o was getting better. it was confusing. “How have you been? How was everything with the kids?” he asked from the doorframe. I turned around to see him and answered, “It was fine, no incidents.” I simply said. We looked each other for a while, we haven’t talk since we had sex the last time, he came to bring the girls back. He stayed for dinner and a while after, the girls went to sleep, we started to talk about them, about our past together, about us a couple. We kissed and one thing took us to another.

“I want to talk about the last time. I don’t want you to think I…” he started; I knew it didn’t mean anything for him, it was just sex, he has been avoiding me since then but him bringing the subject up made me mad and it hurt me a little.

“I know! Don’t worry! Let’s just forget about it.” I said walking to the front door.

“No, it’s just that we were kind of drunk and got emotional.” He started to say without following me.

“It was just sex. I get it! You made it very clear when you couldn’t wait to leave.” As soon as we were done, he got up from the bed and started to dress up. He told me it was late, and he had a thing to do in the morning, but I knew he was lying. He left me, naked in the bed, the one we shared for several years.  

“I didn’t want the girls to get confused.” He got closer to the door, shaking his head, and rubbing his face roughly with his hands.

“You didn’t want me to get confused.” His eyes got bigger, and I could see the anger growing in his face.

“You couldn’t care less about what I wanted so don’t tell me what my intentions were.”

“You made them very clear.”

He looked confused, but he moved quickly. “You always so understanding. But why don’t you just listen to me? I’m trying to …” He couldn’t say anything more.

“You’re right, it’s kind of late and there isn’t a reason for you to stay.” I interrupted him, he looked mad.

He took a deep breath and kept on “I’m picking the kids tomorrow’s morning” he informed me before walking out.

“They won’t be here until late afternoon.” I said back. He looked at me without saying anything and kept on his walking. I stood at the door, looking how he got in the car. He turned on the engine, and before driving away he looked at me through the window. “Thank God we’re divorced.”

When the topic isn’t our kids, it never goes well. I guess we’re still hurt.

I didn’t fully understand why he got so angry until I saw the pictures.

After he picked the girls the next day, I did some work and later I filled a glass with wine and turned on the television to pick up a film to watch but my phone rang.

“Hey hon! How are you doing?” Lily asked, with a worried voice that I didn’t get.

“Hey! Why are you asking like that? I’m pretty fine.” I said laughing.

“Well! I don’t know, I thought you will be kind of sad o maybe angry, if my ex-husband was dating with somebody after not even a year from our divorce, I would be ready to kill him.”

“What? What are you talking about? I mean he hadn’t told me anything, I don’t think he’s dating again.” I said quite confused.

“Shit! You haven’t seen it, have you?”

Right away, I googled him with the call waiting.

Chris Evans is off market again? The former superhero and the upcoming actress Rachel Welles spotted holding hands and getting affectionate.

He was trying to talk about our night together because he was going to tell me about her. I felt my heart shrinking. I guess I should have been ready for this, he was free to be with whoever he wanted but it hurt me.

“I’m sorry, girl. It must be weird and hurtful. If you need anything you know I’m right here, right?” she asked kindly.

“I’m fine. he’s free to be with anybody but I guess I wasn’t as much ready to see it as I thought.”

“Yeah, knowing something isn’t always mean assimilating it, right?”

“Right”

After the call I refilled my glass and went to sleep with a few tears in my cheeks.

Our relationship began so natural, and it went so fast. We met through common friends, we dated just for tree moths after he asked me to move on with him. We didn’t take long to get married either, we both just knew that it was the right decision. I really loved him, and I know he loved me too. It wasn’t a fantasy, but we were grown-ups when he met, we knew what we wanted for life, in a partner and we found it in each other.

He was a great husband, a great father and a great friend. I single tear fell through my cheek, remembering the beginning of our freefall.

“There’s not a good way to say this. I’m really sorry to tell this but, Mrs. Evans you had a miscarriage.” Doctor Lars said. I felt Chris’s hand in my knee, comforting me. I felt I couldn’t breathe. My heart broke in pieces. “But I’m six months pregnant, this usually happens during the first trimester. This can’t be true.” My mouth slurred. “Well, the actual name is a late-miscarriage, there are several things that may play a part in causing it so we need to do a few tests to find a cause. I know this isn’t easy, but these things can happen, and we can’t do anything to prevent it.” I touched my barely swollen belly, missing the movements of my baby. “What are we doing now?” Chris talked, taking care of the situation. “You will need to go through labour to give birth to you baby. I know this can be a very distressing time and you may be in shock but there’s not other way.” I could hear him breathe hardly before kissing my head.

We went through our worst nightmare. I gave birth to a baby I could take care of. Thankfully, after inducing the labour, the birth came quickly. We decided not to hold the baby. We thought it will be less traumatic in that way.

He went with me through all of that, but we changed. Everything changed.

Five days later, I came into our bedroom to see him packing his suitcase.

“What are you doing? I asked softly.

“I need to go to L.A for a few interviews and shoot a few scenes” I looked at him straightly. Not quite believing he was going to leave so early after everything. “Don’t worry, I asked my mother to come to help you with everything.” he said, seeing my expression. I didn’t want to be alone, I didn’t want his mom here, I wanted him. I caressed his back, calling his attention.

“Don’t go, please.” I muttered. “It will be just a couple days, two weeks max.” he said holding me in his arms.

“Two weeks?” that was so fucking long.

“Listen, I can really do anything. I’m sorry but it’s work. What you want me to do?” he tried to reason with me, in vain.

“Call Meghan and ask her to reschedule it. We have an appointment with Doctor Lars next week.” I didn’t like to complain about his job or ask him to not to do it, but I couldn’t go through that alone.

“Everything will be fine, call me after the appointment and tell me what she says. I will be here as soon as I can.” I pushed him away with my eyes watering.

“Okay” for the first time in our life together he was putting his family in a second place.

The worst thing it was that trip didn’t last 2 weeks, but 3 months. He told me that his next project was being moved forward, and nothing else. He left me alone in the worst moment of my life and I couldn’t forget it.  

After a few more glasses of wine, I took me phone and I called him.

“Hello” he said with a surprised voice. “What’s going on?”

“What was what you wanted to tell me last time? Hey, I know we just fuck but I’m actually in a relationship with some else and you must forget about it.” I slurred, mimicking him.

“You know it.” He said, I could hear him moving to another place. I guess he left the house.

“Of course, I do. Do you think I live under a rock?” I wasn’t jealous I was mad at him, at myself.

“Okay I get it you’re mad, but I wanted to talk…”

“What for? To say sorry for fucking me or to ask me to keep back of your new love.”

“No, it’s not like…”

“Why did you leave me? Why wasn’t I your priority anymore? I asked, removing the tears away from my face. My voice broke a few times, I was unable to keep myself still.

“Where are you? Are you drunk?” he asked hurriedly.

“It wasn’t my blame; I couldn’t have known it.” I kept talking.

“What are you talking about?” his voice was full of curiosity and confusion.

“We didn’t name him, he died without a name.” my face was completely wet, my arms were crossed around my stomach and my heart… I couldn’t feel my heart.

“Are you at home? Pease tell me where you are.” He asked desperately.

“Yes, I’m here.” I muttered before hanging up.

A few minutes later I heard the door opening, and his footsteps. I was in completely darkness, no TV, no lights, nothing but somehow, he knew exactly where I was.

“Hey! What’s going on? What happened?” he asked softly, sitting next to me in the half-furnished nursery.

“Why did you leave me?”

“Well, when you wife files for divorce, it’s actually kind of what you have do” he said with a sad smile in his face.

“You left me way before that.” I said quickly, he left me when we lost our baby. “We never talked about him.”

“I don’t think you are in an appropriate state to talk about him.” He said without looking at me.

“I’m fine. Don’t make excuses! You just don’t want to talk about him with me.”

“I don’t want to talk about him with nobody.”

“I’m not nobody.”

“Why is this so important now? It’s been a year since then, we are not together anymore...” he started to get up from the floor.

“You’re dating again…” I finished the sentence off for him “you told me you weren’t ready. You said you missed me, that you missed us.” I said, remembering what he told me when he was taking me to our bedroom between kisses and caresses.

His face looked confused and tired.

“I don’t get it. Why are so upset? You filed for divorce without telling me why, without giving me a chance to make it better. All I know is you felt neglected, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I thought we were just going through a rough patch, but I thought it was normal after all.” His voice was firmed, he wasn’t yelling me, but I bet he wanted. “I know you don’t think this but I’m not the bad guy here.” His eyes were red and watering. He never told me anything of this. He had been too angry to talk to me about anything.

He walked to the door, ready to leave me.

“You left me.” I said, calling his attention.  

“You already said that.” He barked back.  

“When I asked you to stay you left me for almost four months after I gave birth to my death son. I needed you Chris, and you rather work than be with your wife.” His face kept straight; he knew what I was talking about. I got up when I saw him get closer to me. He looked at me for minutes, as he wasn’t sure about his next words.

“I went to therapy. I didn’t come back home because I wasn’t stable, not because I was working, not because I wanted to leave, it was because I didn’t see another way to deal with everything. You were right when you said holding our baby it would be traumatic, it was.” I didn’t understand what he was talking about, we agreed on not to hold the baby when he was born but he cleared all up “I couldn’t help it, I saw him coming out of you as the same way Emma and Anna did. I needed to see him, and it was the worst thing I could have done, but it was my son.” His eyes never left mine when his body got much closer to me. “I lost my son too, honey. I couldn’t be there for you because I wasn’t handling in the right way.” I saw a single tear going down through his cheek. At least I wasn’t the only one crying.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because you gave birth to him! How the fucking hell could I have told you I was the one losing his mind after that? I know I should have stayed with you but believe me, there wasn’t another option, I didn’t find another way.”  

[kaepop-trash]

Unintended Consequences

Cover by: @hyeincovers​

Rated: Smut, Slow burn (very slow), Strangers to lovers

Pairing: JohnnyxReader

Summary: When you took a week off of work for one of your best friend’s wedding— a week off that was incredibly tough to even acquire from your demanding job— there were things you were expecting: lots of drinking, seeing your friends after a long time, the warm beaches of the island your friend decided to tie the knot on. What you did not expect boiled down to exactly two things: an absolutely embarrassing encounter in the depths of intoxication, and the person who was at the cause of said encounter. Neither were you prepared for the unintended consequences that came from your public mortification.

Word Count: 40K (Genuine oops for this.)

(A/N): The elevator thing actually happened to me a year ago at a wedding. I absolutely had to say that and add that everything after that is pure fiction. No Johnny’s walking around casually at any wedding I’ve been to. I also deeply miss beaches. There’s also a playlist I can’t link on this because tumblr is difficult.

Miscellaneous Masterlist 

Day 1

“I’m very happy for you.” (Y/N) said as she took another sip of her drink, holding the glass close to her chest as a last line of defense, “I just don’t understand why you’d have a week long wedding.” She shrugged a little, wincing when she saw her friend’s face fall. “I mean don’t get me wrong. I think this place is something else, I can hear the waves everywhere. But I had to coax and threaten my boss for the days off. She’s also in general just not happy about the concept of weddings, so you can imagine the mental gymnastics I had to pull.” She took another sip of her drink, frowning down at the now empty glass when she realised that the bottom of the glass was mostly the remains of the melting ice cube.

“That’s because your boss is a frigid bitch, (Y/N).” Sooyoung rolled her eyes, making (Y/N) giggle. “I’m one of your best friends? Plus!” She pointed a finger dramatically, clearly a little drunk, “We both know your boss isn’t going to fire your workaholic, competent ass. She’s practically grooming you to be her. So just be happy for me okay?” She pouted at her.

“I am happy for you.” (Y/N) smiled for emphasis but Sooyoung just rolled her eyes.

“And enjoy you time? Go get a tan on the beach or something, swim a little. This is your first vacation in what? Three years? Consider it my gift to you.” She waved her hand like a fairy godmother.

“Two years.” She stuck her tongue out and Sooyoung stuck hers right back. “I am saving up for a new apartment, you know that.” 

Sooyoung gave her a wide tight-lipped smile, “Hence the gift part. You work too hard and you were going to die of a Vitamin D deficiency if I didn’t save you and whisk you away.” Sooyoung picked up two glasses from a server passing by and handed her one glass. (Y/N) scrunched her nose, usually particular about her drinks, but it was Sooyoung’s wedding week. So she drank it anyway.

“You could have spared me the work day by letting me booking an evening flight at the very least, you know. Your Groom isn’t even here yet! Taking a week off is too much to ask from my boss.” She continued defending herself, more out of jest now.

“He’s coming later tonight. It was a flight problem. Plus he insisted he come with all his groomsmen.” She rolled her eyes like it was a dumb idea.

“So exactly like you did?” (Y/N) raised a brow and Sooyoung smiled slyly. “So Doyoung and you are made for each other.” She scoffed but her friend expertly ignored the sarcasm.

“We are, aren’t we?” She made a small noise of excitement. (Y/N) made a face that made Sooyoung laugh.

(Y/N) groaned, “I’m going to go look for Joohyun, you’re being too in love. It’s disgusting.” She stuck her tongue out again and Sooyoung mirrored it.

On her quest to look for Joohyun, she managed to pick up a drink for herself. Looking around the crowd to find her easily lost friend. 

“Oh (Y/N), just the person I was looking for.” She turned as Jungwoo grabbed her arm. The other hand holding two glasses, the logistics of the balance momentarily caught her off guard. He pushed the glass into her hand, “Come on, let’s drink.” He gave her a wide grin.

She sighed as she looked at the small glass, “You could have at least had the dignity of getting a slice of lemon.” She frowned but he bought the glass up to his own lips, ignoring her. Unwillingly, she did the same, the liquid burning all way down to her stomach. She needed to eat some food.

“This is why I love you.” He spoke after he finished grimacing, “Let’s go get more shots.” His grin never left. (Y/N) laughed at his child-like excitement over the presence of the open bar.

“Sooyoung will be livid if the hotel staff has to peel us off the floor. Plus I’m looking for Joohyun.” She shifted on her feet as the heat of the alcohol spread in her belly, she hated shots.

“That’s an excellent idea. Let’s go find Joohyun and we can all do shots!” He laughed at his own idea like it was the best idea he had. She rubbed her forehead, frustrated with the conversation coming back to the same outcome.

“Can we at least get one of those canapes?” She bargained, pointing to a waiter passing by.

“Later.” Jungwoo slipped his arm into hers and waved his hands, “Joohyun!” He said, making her frown. How did he find her so easily when she’d been looking for so long?

She wasn’t sure what the time was when she got on the elevator. She kept her eyes on the floor, trying to stop her head spinning. In the distance the music still thumped, the bass of it vibrating in the cramped space. 

“Why did we leave so soon?” Jungwoo pouted at her.

“Because you puked in a cactus hedge and the hotel staff told you off for ruining the rock bed.” She glared at the floor, hoping her tone filled in her displeasure.

“This elevator is going down?” Wendy murmured. (Y/N) looked up to find her squinting at the buttons— the one to their floor was definitely pressed. But like Wendy said, the elevator was on it’s way down.

“You guys.” Yeri whispered, “I once watched a movie where this happened.” She said with a voice too full of dread.

“Where what happened?” Jungwoo asked nervously.

“The elevator went to the basement. And this witch stood there, her hair floating around her face.” She pulled her hair across her face for emphasis.

(Y/N) snorted, pushing her own suddenly uneasy nerves down.  (Y/N) blamed the alcohol and the tone of Yeri’s voice for the dread she felt. She tried to shake it off, “Are you talking about Inception?” She scoffed louder.

“Am I?” She looked at the floor, trying to recall.

The elevator dinged open in the basement and despite herself, (Y/N) looked out while her friends debated whether Inception deserved an Oscar. A figure emerged from the shadows in all black. Before she could help it, (Y/N) screamed and covered her face. Everybody in the elevator jumped in horror as the man walked into the elevator with wide eyes. She sank to the floor quickly, keeping her face covered with her hands. Her friends all burst out laughing and the sound that came from her lips were a mix of laughter and mortification. Her face felt so hot from embarrassment that it felt sticky.

“What happened?” A voice she didn’t know asked with concern. She stayed in place, crouched with her face covered. She did not need to see his face and she was glad he would not see hers.

“My friend thought you were a hairy witch.” Seulgi spoke, everybody burst into laughter again. If the ground opened up in the moment, she would jump in before it had a chance to swallow her.

“I like to believe I’m well groomed.” The other voice spoke again, laced with amusement. Earning himself another round of laughter, joining in himself.

(Y/N) stayed planted on the floor firmly with her identity masked till the elevator dinged.

“He’s gone now.” Yeri announced with a chuckle and finally she stood up, still mortified.

“That was the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Jungwoo said with a clap.

“I just want to go to bed.” She murmured.

Day 2

(Y/N) wasn’t sure when she actually fell asleep. After spending more than an hour in the shower to wash away her mortification and intoxication and tossing and turning in bed to fight reliving the incident in her head repeatedly she reminded herself that it was just a stranger— someone she would never see again and who had never seen her face. With that reassurance she finally managed to get a few odd hours of sleep.

At the moment she sat at a table in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Her face felt so swollen from the alcohol and lack of sufficient sleep that her eyes pressed into her forehead— or maybe that was the hangover that was currently raging inside her skull, she couldn’t decide. Jungwoo scrapped his fork against his plate and she groaned, putting her head in her hands.

“Please. Have mercy.” She begged him and he apologised with a surprising amount of earnestness.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” Joohyun pointed her knife at her.

“At some point. Since you so rudely woke me up.” She frowned at Joohyun, her current roommate.

“Nobody asked you to drink your weight in alcohol last night. You need to eat or you would miss the yacht party in the afternoon.” Joohyun reminded, unhelpfully. 

“Fuck that’s today.” She groaned, this time Wendy and Jungwoo joined her. She sighed to herself, looking back and forth till her eyes focused on the table with the juice canisters displayed on it. She focused on the large glass containers, frosted with the promise of ice cold juice and got out of her chair with a mission.

After roughly seven glasses, she felt partially human again. Giving into the rising growl in her stomach, she got up to find some food.

With a plate of eggs and sausages in her hand, she stood in front of the coffee machine, looking at the contraption with distrust. She missed her french press already but sighed and pushed the needed buttons.

“Four shots of espresso in one cup?” A voice spoke from behind her. She squinted, pretty sure she had heard it somewhere. But the person that came to stand beside her wasn’t anybody she had met.

“I like the elevated heartbeat it gives me. Like an adrenaline sport but without the immediate threat to my life.” She replied wryly, earning a chuckle.

“That’s quite ambitious.” He tapped his chin, making her look up at him.

“My mom says the same thing. I just like to consider myself a run-of-the-mill addict.” She shrugged, really not in the mood to make conversation while half her body was still shut from dehydration. It didn’t help that this man was attractive and this morning she looked like the claim she made of being an addict might hold some water. She frowned, the man seemed to straighten up.

He snorted and she noted his sudden discomfort with amusement, “No judgement from a fellow addict himself.” He shrugged and she smiled at the coffee machine. The machine squirted out it’s second espresso and she tapped her foot on the floor.

“Sorry for keeping you.” She said sheepishly.

“No rush, we’re all here for breakfast anyway.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. In a better state she’d give his muscles a better look over. Instead she kept tapping her foot on the floor.

“You seem to be in a rush though.” He looked down to her feet. She stopped her tapping, not knowing how to explain that her nature was impatience. 

Eventually the last espresso successfully reached her cup and she picked it up, considering the idea of using the kettle of hot water beside the machine more convenient than the rising anxiety she felt for holding someone up. He looked like he wanted to be out of here, and she wanted to currently cease existing because of her headache.

“Sorry for the wait.” She said quickly as she poured herself the water to fill the cup the rest of the way.

“And you drink it black.” He sounded pleased and she gave him a distracted nod and a concluding smile, walking away before he finished his thought. 

If it wasn’t nine am, she’d have better manners.

(Y/N) realised, rather unwillingly, that Joohyun was right. After the breakfast and a shower, she felt more prepared for the afternoon’s festivities. 

At the moment she stood in front of the mirror, putting on her mascara. As someone who constantly survived on questionable hours of sleep, the bar wasn’t set too high; nonetheless, she was impressed by her efforts to look presentable.

“I can’t believe our Sooyoung is getting married.” Joohyun spoke with a small gasp of surprise.

“Me neither. You’re all starting to leave me behind one by one.” (Y/N) joked, pleased when it worked to get Joohyun out of her reflective melancholy.

“You’ll get married one day too. And that day i’ll actually not believe it.” She chuckled to herself while folding a dress.

(Y/N) chuckled cynically, “There’s a long time till that day I can promise you that. I have to watch you go through your married life and at least a pregnancy first. Just to know that I am aware of what I will get into.” Joohyun blushed, throwing a towel on the bed at her back.

(Y/N) stood toward the back of the yacht, the stern, an over chatty guest had helpfully informed her a while back. She closed her eyes to feel the salty breeze on her face, enjoying the quick moment of quiet. Her phone was somewhere deep in her purse and her purse was somewhere deep below deck. There was no cellphone reception this far out and she settled her agitation by reminding herself that she was in fact on vacation. So she relaxed and breathe in the smell of the ocean around her. 

After her moment of peace, she decided to go back towards the party— mostly to get herself a glass of champagne and the fried chicken that Yeri promised her was the best part of the afternoon.

“(Y/N)!” Sooyoung gestured to come towards her eagerly just as (Y/N) encountered a tray filled with champagne flutes. She raised her glass to Sooyoung with a chuckle and walked towards her.

“I was looking for you!” Sooyoung said with a wide, happy smile. “You are yet to meet Doyoung’s friends, come on.” She put her arms through (Y/N)’s and pulled her towards a group of men chatting with each other. Sooyoung let her arm go only to put her elbow on Doyoung’s shoulder, who affectionately put his arm on her waist. 

“You’ve met my Doie, of course.” She grinned. The first time (Y/N) met Doyoung, he was embarrassed of Sooyoung using that nickname in front of others. Today he just smiled through his growing blush.

“How have you been, (Y/N)?” He asked her, “How’s work?” He tried to make conversation.

“Don’t ask her about work please.” Sooyoung swatted him making the others laugh, “She’s going to go off looking for that dreaded phone of hers again.” She chastised him and he apologised.

“Don’t scold your future husband. He’s just trying to be polite. He would ask me about my hobbies if we had more chances to talk about that.” She scolded Sooyoung back but she just gave her an unconvinced shrug. Doyoung gave her a grateful smile though.

“These are my friends, (Y/N).” Doyoung turned to the other people. “You’ve met some of them.” He said, while he introduced her to them. (Y/N) smiled at them, her eyes stopping on the man she recognised from the coffee machine.

“I’m Johnny.” He extended his hand to her, giving her a teasing smile. “If you didn’t walk away quite so fast in the morning I would have told you that.” His smile grew wider. She returned his smile, noting the Patek Philippe watch around his wrist.

“You’ve met?” Both Doyoung and Sooyoung asked at the same time.

“In the morning, while we both waited for our caffeine fix.” Johnny informed, making Sooyoung smile wide enough to make (Y/N) suspicious.

“You both live in New York, you know.” Sooyoung said eagerly. (Y/N) nodded at her, unsure of where she was going with this.

Johnny seemed to consider the information, smiling with intent. “Sooyoung, it seems you’ve been hiding your friend from me.” Johnny jabbed lightly and she laughed in response.

“Me? I haven’t seen (Y/N) for a year before the wedding. How do you get to meet her?” Sooyoung teased him back and Johnny laughed.

“It’s not my fault you moved to San Francisco.” (Y/N) reminded Sooyoung. She just waved the accusation away, making (Y/N) smile.

“(Y/N)!” Jungwoo’s voice almost filled her with relief. She had started to feel a little out of place among people she didn’t know that well. She turned to where he spoke from, giving him a pleading gaze in hope that he would take her away. “Have you tried the fried chicken yet?” He spoke as he approached, stopping halfway to look at somebody else.

“You!” Jungwoo said, suddenly laughing. “Oh my god, you’re Doyoung’s friend?” He clapped his hands together in delight. She looked back at Johnny, confused by Jungwoo’s acknowledgement.

“How’s your friend?” Johnny spoke, a smirk settling on his face, “I hope I didn’t give her too much of a fright.” Jungwoo opened his mouth, before turning to (Y/N). 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He giggled, straightening up when she glared at him.

(Y/N) turned to face Johnny so slowly, almost too aware of how suddenly everybody around her had their eyes on her. She knew his voice sounded familiar in the morning. He was also too monstrously tall for there to be more than one. She bit her lips like it would somehow stop the blood from pooling into her cheeks.

“Oh?” Johnny raised a brow, an intrigued smile on his face.

“Who else did you think was small enough to crouch down so efficiently into a ball on command.” Jungwoo clapped her back with acknowledgement, unaware of how she was resisting the urge to push him into the sea. Johnny looked her up and down, as if realising that she was in fact too short. To her horror, his smile only grew wider. It didn’t help that he was the tallest one around.

“What’s going on?” One of the men, Ten she remembered, asked out loud.

“I was wondering the same thing.” Sooyoung mumbled.

“Let’s go try that fried chicken yeah?.” (Y/N) pulled Jungwoo away quickly, pinching his arm when he tried to protest.

“Why would you do that?” (Y/N) hissed when they both reached a respectable distance. She shoved him towards the railing to satisfy part of her urge to shove him off-board. Jungwoo looked at her with his best innocent face. “He didn’t see me, you know? I could have gone this entire week without this humiliation.” She whined.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Jungwoo rolled his eyes, swallowing a choked cough when she glared daggers at him, “I mean, does it matter?” He laughed nervously. “Just some light fun that you’ll laugh about in a few years I’m sure.” He chuckled by himself, “(Y/N) please.” He blew air from between his lips dismissively to emphasize his point.

“Maybe we should tell people about your incident in the cactus bush.” She narrowed her gaze at him, taking the smile from his face.

Jungwoo laughed nervously and looked around before jumping up and pointing to the crowd, “He’s coming here, (Y/N)! Elevator guy.” Jungwoo whispered. She straightened up and grabbed Jungwoo again, walking away into the crowd. When she turned back, her eyes met Johnny’s for a brief moment. She turned away, not lingering on his smile.

Jungwoo pulled his arm out from her hold once they were two decks below, “You can’t exactly escape him on a boat. Vastly limited escape routes.” He said it like she somehow didn’t understand that.

“I can at least try. You put me in this situation,” She pointed an accusatory finger. “So humour me, Kim Jungwoo.” She groaned.

Jungwoo pouted at her, “We didn’t even get to have the chicken.” He whined earning an incredulous glare.

“We’ll get it on the way out.” She sighed in defeat.

“Or we can just get it when they cut the cake.” Jungwoo shrugged with excitement. When she frowned Jungwoo laughed, “Excuse you, Sooyoung is up to her forehead with wedding nerves. She will skin us both alive if we aren’t in the pictures. You’re usually the one I’d be more scared of, but bridezilla wins any fight.” Jungwoo scoffed. (Y/N) was at a loss, of course she couldn’t miss that. Sooyoung would be devastated. She slumped her shoulders in defeat, giving him a nod.

(Y/N) was too aware of the eyes from across the crowd that were singled in on her, but Johnny didn’t move from his spot. She stood across the cake, taking a small amount of pleasure in a victory that was short-lived. In a week long wedding, she would inevitably have to see the man countless times, especially considering he was one of the groomsmen. At the moment though, she kept her eyes on Sooyoung who looked content as she and Doyoung cut a small cake that Wendy assured her was only that size to not outshine her actual wedding cake. She thought of what Joohyun said earlier in the day as she turned to find her trying her best to hold back her tears. Sooyoung really was getting married and (Y/N) was happy for her.

As the sun set beyond the horizon, the festivities of the day seemed to slow down. The music dropped to a slower tempo above her as (Y/N) tried to dig through the coats and bags below deck to find hers. Why someone would bring a coat to a tropical retreat was beyond her. She sighed with relief when she finally spotted her bag, pulling it out eagerly. Now that they were steering back towards the coast, the reception was bound to return.

“Oh, I didn’t realise someone was–” She jumped, caught off guard. She turned to find Johnny watching her, the same amused smirk on his face— maybe that was just what his face looked like. 

“Are you usually this jumpy?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, studying her.

“I was just looking for my bag.” She held up the object, like it was evidence.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just needed to make a call. I was hoping the reception would be back already.” He laughed effortlessly, running his fingers through his hair— ruining the hold of whatever product there was in it. Infuriatingly, it still looked really good. 

(Y/N) blinked, realising that she was staring at him. He smirked at her again, looking her over again. Her mouth felt a little dry at the scrutiny, and she resisted the urge to lick her lips. Instead he licked his, preparing to say something. Her phone rang loudly in her bag as he opened his mouth. She yelped and he let out a laugh at her response.

“I guess the reception is back.” She laughed awkwardly, looking away to rummage through her bag and holding up her phone to her ear. “Hello?” She spoke into the object, turning away from him with a surge of relief.

As the yacht finally docked at shore, (Y/N) was sure there was some altar she needed to leave some offerings at out of gratitude for the sheer luck she had today: avoiding Johnny all day. On the other hand, one of her clients had urgently gotten in touch and given her work that she was sure would occupy the rest of her evening. Her assistant called as she walked down the deck towards the resort, a hand on her shoulder stopping her.

“We’re going for a drink at the hotel bar with Doyoung’s friends, join us.” Sooyoung said, her smiling fading when (Y/N) gave her a sheepish one in return.

“I promised my boss I’d be available remotely. A client needs something urgently, if I don’t do it now I won’t be free tomorrow.” (Y/N) said apologetically. Sooyoung sighed but put on a smile. “It’s fine, it’s just a drink anyway.” She tried to mask her disappointment, “Go before I change my mind!” She pushed her playfully.

With years of experience and immense help from her assistant, (Y/N) managed to finish her work just short of midnight. Realising that she wasn’t tired enough to sleep, she called the reception; they helpfully informed her that the pool and gym were open 24/7 on account of the wedding party.

After a round on the treadmill, (Y/N) was in the pool. She sighed as she floated around, relishing it. She loved swimming, and with a sigh she realised that she had been here for two days now and it was her first time visiting the pool. She lifted from the surface, the sound of the crashing waves returning the moment the water dripped out of her ears. She looked out towards the ocean— the moon and lighting across the property making it visible. A sigh that was meant to be wistful came out melancholic as she turned away, taking a dip under the surface of the water. 

The second time she emerged, her eyes fell towards the glass wall that made the gym overlook the pool. Behind the glass, Johnny sat on a stationary bike.

Her breath caught in her throat.

 It was fairly obvious that he was watching her; not bothering to look away when their eyes met. She felt her cheeks heat under his gaze, realising that it wasn’t from embarrassment this time but the look in his eyes. Heat pooled in her stomach despite the cold water she was surrounded by and he still made no effort to look away. She stood frozen, her feet far from the ground this close to the deep end but she tried her best to keep her face up. She realised that her heart was beating very fast. 

Johnny was an attractive man no doubt, but as his eyes bored into her and he licked his lips, she was suddenly too aware of how attractive he was. His lips parted into a smile, the same one he seemed to always have for her— like they both shared a secret. (Y/N)’s toes felt cold, like all her blood was rushing away from the extremes of her body.

All too quickly, his lips turned down. 

He frowned and lifted away from the bike handles, sitting up straight and tapping on his ear. When he looked away and looked like he spoke, she realised he answered a phone call. She was about to turn away when he gave her one last glance, a passing expression of apology and impatience in them. Then he got up and left the gym.

(Y/N) let out a breath she had held on for a moment too long. What was wrong with her? She shook her head and got out of the pool, reprimanding herself all the way to her room. When she got on the elevator, a pained laugh left her lips.

“You’re stupid and the fact that your friend is getting married is getting to you, (Y/N).” She mumbled to herself as she dried her hair with a towel.

Day 3

It was a vile six in the morning when (Y/N) waited in the lobby with her friends for the rest of the party to show up so they could go visit the town nearby and buy trinkets at the market. Jungwoo walked in after a few minutes with a croissant sandwich in his hands making Yeri frown at him.

“What? I wasn’t going to skip breakfast.” He spoke with his mouth stuffed.

“How are you eating that so early in the morning.” Yeri wrinkled her nose and he stuffed the sandwich under her nose in response, making her shriek and swat him away.

“You’re too loud.” Joohyun scolded them with both her index fingers inside her ears. 

Sooyoung and Doyoung walked in amidst the chaos, with Sooyoung laughing at Yeri’s annoyed expression.

“You aren’t allowed to look this perfect at this ungodly hour.” Yeri groaned, making Sooyoung flick her hair in response.

“It’s the honeymoon glow.” Seulgi nodded, while eating a croissant sandwich Jungwoo carried along for her on her request.

“They aren’t married yet.” (Y/N) looked at Seulgi like she was being ridiculous.

“Look around you. This is a honeymoon.” Jungwoo scoffed and they had to all agree with a thoughtful hum.

Sooyoung turned to Doyoung, “Yes, they’re always like this. Welcome to the family.” She patted his back sympathetically.

Doyoung scoffed, “They aren’t as insane as the boys, don’t worry.” He laughed, “I think you guys are charming.” He smiled affectionately.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was sarcastic.” Jungwoo whispered to Yeri who sighed in response.

“Everybody can hear you. Shut up.” She said back in the same volume, making Doyoung laugh.

Doyoung’s friends walked in a moment later, laughing amongst themselves about something.

“Why are all of Doyoung’s friends so good looking?” Wendy leaned over to whisper to (Y/N)— an actual whisper compared to Jungwoo. She turned to Wendy, raising an eyebrow at her and making her blush. “What? I know you’ve thought about it too. Don’t judge me.” She sputtered, making (Y/N) smile at her.

“Good for you, you’ve got an entire week to explore that thought.” (Y/N) winked at her with encouragement, “Plus I’m sure Sooyoung will be more than glad to set you up.” She suppressed a laugh as her words seemed to make Wendy look away with a shy shake of her head.

“Where’s Johnny?” Doyoung’s voice caught her attention, making her turn to the group of men, noticing the missing one.

“Something about an important buy-out.” Mark spoke up, “I’ll be honest I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, but he was up all night and he’s still working on it.” Mark shrugged. 

(Y/N) looked away, feeling dumb for the disappointment that gently nudged at her chest. She was avoiding him, because she was embarrassed to be around him. She shouldn’t be that fickle, especially over a single moment from across a pool and a glass wall.

By the time the sun was above their head, most of them were loaded with shopping bags. Ten and Yuta offered to carry their bags if it got too heavy and (Y/N) was sure they regretted the offer with just Yeri’s freight. Doyoung insisted on carrying Sooyoung’s bags, but she was kind enough to share the burden.

At the moment, the rest of them looked for a restaurant to eat at while Mark and (Y/N) went in search of a brass bowl. 

“Hey (Y/N), I think I found it!” Mark announced as he pointed at a small shop where sure enough, she could see the bowls she had been in search of. While they looked around the shop, Mark’s phone rang.

“Hey dude!” He stretched the last word with a giggle. Whatever came in response seemed to surprise him because he made a very audible sound implying the same, before stepping outside and squinting at the name of the shop. He seemed to focus on it for a long time before probably realising that it wasn’t in a language he understood. (Y/N) tried to bite back a smile as he walked back into the shop with a defeated sigh.

“Hey (Y/N).” He sounded unsure as he spoke, “Do you know where we are?” He scratched his head. When she nodded his eyes lit up, going wide. “Wait (Y/N) knows!” He smiled at her, giving her a thumbs up that she felt compelled to return. She gave him the name of the market and he tried his best to reiterate the name to whoever was on the phone.

Mark paused mid-sentence, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah just call Doyoung, the restaurant will probably be easier to find.” He let out an awkward laugh, “Sorry dude.” He chuckled awkwardly. This time she snorted, finding Mark’s disposition hilariously animated. When Mark hung up the phone, he didn’t seem annoyed by her laugh. In fact he seemed amused himself.

“Thanks dude.” Mark said before stuttering and correcting himself, “I mean, (Y/N).” He put his palm to his face,groaning. “Thanks (Y/N).” He winced at himself.

(Y/N) shook her head at him, eyes glittering with humour, “You can call me dude.” She chuckled. “I don’t mind.” 

They left the shop with two bowls wrapped in newspaper. Mark asked twice if she needed help carrying her things but she insisted they weren’t heavy.

“Mark!” A voice came from behind them, making them both turn.

Johnny waved at Mark, walking towards them with quick strides that looked effortless with his long legs. He wore black cargo pants with a sleeveless white t-shirt that made his biceps very visible as he walked closer. A pair of sunglasses sat perched on his nose which made it hard to tell if he noticed her. Yet when his lips bloomed into his signature smile, the sunglasses made no difference. That was the smile he gave her, it was her smile. 

The thought made unsolicited butterflies rise up her stomach and move around her chest.

“Hi.” He greeted her casually, making his lopsided grin look effortless. She gave him a wave, mentally slapping herself for not having something better to say.

“I can’t believe you actually came dude!” Mark gave him a fist bump, “I thought you’d crash after staying up all night.” 

Johnny just shrugged at his words. “I can sleep later.” He took off his sunglasses, slipping it into his collar. “So, what are we doing?” He smiled at both of them.

“Well, (Y/N) and I bought these brass bowls she was talking about on the ride here. They’re really nice.” Mark lifted the one in his hand. Johnny let his mouth hang, looking at Mark mockingly, “Did you want one?” Mark laughed.

“I can’t believe you forgot about me, Dude. I thought we were friends.” Johnny huffed and Mark nudged his shoulder.

“The shop is right there. Come on we can get you one.” Mark giggled at the end of the sentence, laughing at Johnny’s ridiculous indignation. On her part, she watched the exchange, thoroughly amused. The Johnny that stood in front of her right now was so different from the one she had, however briefly, encountered so far.

“You have to buy it for me.” Johnny crossed his arms in front of him and huffed. 

Mark nodded with another giggle, pushing him towards the shop. “You’re embarrassing yourself in front of (Y/N), you big dork!” 

Johnny didn’t deter, turning to her with his grin, “We’re fine with a little embarrassment between us aren’t we, (Y/N)?” He winked, laughing when she gave him a flustered nod.

That was the first time her name rolled off his tongue and for a moment that was all she could think about. 

Johnny entered a few more shops, each time playfully asking Mark if he would buy him what he wanted this time. Each time he ended up paying for it himself. What an odd guy, she thought. She realised that maybe, Johnny just liked to tease people. He sure did enjoy flustering her quite a bit. 

(Y/N) toyed with the carving of a frog. The green of the lacquer used on the bronze sculpture was so beautiful that she enjoyed looking at it for a moment.

“Do you like it?” Johnny’s voice softly brushed against her ear. She hummed in response, failing to notice the way his eyes lit up, “Well, you aren’t jumping in my presence anymore. I consider that progress.” 

She chuckled at the words, looking up at him and shrugging. “I guess you aren’t a hairy witch after all.” Amusement glinted in his eyes, mirroring the glint in hers.

“I told you. I’m a decently groomed man.” He huffed. At his words, her eyes glanced over to his arms, looking over the contours and noting the slightest glint of perspiration from the humidity. Before she could give it a thought, she swallowed; her eyes travelling up to his clavicle till it came back to his face. In response, Johnny licked his lips and for a moment she was sure she felt it in the pit of her stomach. Her lips parted, taking in a breath that betrayed her by shaking. The space between them was suddenly too close and not close enough. The fact that they were inside a shop that overlooked the street was tucked in the corner of her mind for a second.

“(Y/N).” His voice was a respectable inch short of an outright growl. He took the smallest step closer and his shadow completely covered her, he looked down at her with a gleam in his eyes that looked so irresistibly cautious— making her want to know what exactly he was holding back.

“Johnny?” She was almost impressed by how level her voice sounded. How she managed to sound so confident under the gaze he was giving her was not something she could ponder over in the moment without losing that small thread of confidence entirely. 

This time he took in an inhale, a shallow and choked one much to her satisfaction. At least they stood on equal ground now, the idea only made her yearn to have the upper hand. She stood in place like her feet were embedded into the slate floor, willing him silently to take just a few more steps.

“Guys we’re late!” Mark shrieked.

She saw the smallest flash of annoyance in Johnny’s eyes before he took a deep breath, combing his fingers through his hair.

“Did you get anything?” Johnny turned to Mark, no hint of what she witnessed moments before in his voice. She swallowed, realising that it only made her find him more attractive.

Mark nodded to Johnny in response to his question, holding up the bag in his hand as proof.

“Alright, head out then. I’ll just pay for the things I want and catch up.” He gave them both a smile.

Johnny caught up with them soon enough, coming to stand beside (Y/N) so she stood between him and Mark. He smiled as he looked up at the sky, their collective shopping bags rustling as they walked towards the restaurant they were meant to be at a while back.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Johnny sighed as he looked up at the sky. She followed his gaze. 

He was right, it was a beautiful day. The sky was a saturated blue, with thick white clouds that moved against it leisurely. The sun was warm on her face but the cool marine breeze soothed it’s tinge. It was a perfect day. One she tried to focus on even as Johnny’s eyes fell on her face and she tried to act like she didn’t notice.

“So what do you do, Mark?” She turned away from the sky and Johnny’s gaze.

“I work in publishing.”

“Oh so you live in New York too?” The thought made her smile.

Mark turned to her, eyes lost, before something clicked into place. “Oh that’s right! You live in New York!” Mark laughed and Johnny laughed behind her, at what she assumed was Mark’s excitement. “We should totally meet sometime.” He paused to take a quick breath, “And I’m not just saying that, okay? It’s hard to make friends in such a big city. I mean, I’m from Canada!” He added like it was an adequate explanation.

“Yeah, if they don’t smile and someone once a day, they get kidnapped in the night by a moose.” Johnny leaned in close to inform her, making her snort at the image.

“And you can’t tell me you’re busy like him.” Mark pointed an accusatory finger at Johnny, making him put a hand on his chest in mock affront. “He tells me he has so much work that he doesn’t have time to eat, and then we end up drinking at his apartment.” Another thought made his eyes widen further than she even thought possible. Mark clapped his hands together, “You should join us. We’re fun, aren’t we Johnny?” He asked Johnny eagerly.

“Come now, (Y/N) doesn’t need to witness the intoxicated recitations of your poetry.” Johnny said, his words making Mark’s face go red.

Before she could answer Johnny tugged at the bags in her hands, “Do you want me to carry those?” He asked casually.

“No, I’m fine.” She responded politely.

“They seem heavy.” He looked down, “Plus they keep hitting your knee.” He squinted at the realisation, no doubt finding it odd.

(Y/N) laughed, “That’s because I’m short, not much space between the arms and knees.” She lifted the bags for emphasis. Whatever thought passed Johnny’s mind, he kept it to himself, swallowing his smirk and nodding.

“I’m just saying, it’s not that big a deal to let me carry it.” He shrugged.

“You have your own bags. Otherwise I just might have taken up on your offer.” She chuckled, readjusting her grip on the bags. He looked down at the motion. “Plus,” She added before he insisted again, “We’re already here.” She looked ahead, making him follow her eyes. He smiled when he saw Doyoung waving at them from an open terrace above.

“Where were you? I thought Mark got you lost or something.” Doyoung asked as they approached the table.

“Excuse me? Is this how little you think of me? (Y/N) and I went to get something we both wanted and then Johnny Suh appeared out of thin air with a desire for retail therapy.” Mark pointed his head to the stuff in Johnny’s hands. Doyoung’s other friends cheered when they noticed Johnny— an odd gesture but nonetheless she had come to understand that Doyoung’s friends were a loud bunch.

“I guess you took my advice after all,” Yuta turned in his chair towards Johnny.

“What advice?” Doyoung asked.

“To enjoy his goddamn vacation.” Yuta chuckled when the table laughed.

“You know, that’s exactly what I told (Y/N).” Sooyoung spoke into her water glass, taking a sip when (Y/N) turned to glare at her.

“We do have two busy bodies amongst us don’t we.” Doyoung spoke while nibbling the stem of his sunglasses, looking at the both of them.

“Who here isn’t busy.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“Yeah but you both like it.” Sooyoung shuddered at the thought.

“That’s why (Y/N) was scared out of wits that night?” Jungwoo hid his smile behind his palm.

“She saw her own reflection?” Yeri added, making Jungwoo laugh in agreement as they both high-fived.

“Nevermind this.” Taeyong spoke up, “Stop ganging up on our friends. You haven’t even let them sit down.” He chastised.

“Here.” Jungwoo raised his hand, “We saved you seats.” He pointed at the empty chairs beside him.

Before (Y/N) reached her chair, Johnny pulled it out for her. She raised a brow at him but he just gave her a light hearted smile, one she felt compelled to return. Across the table, Sooyoung raised her brow at Doyoung, both of them watching the interaction before looking towards each other, a silent communication passing between them.

“Did you really buy matching bowls with the Mark Lee fellow?” Jungwoo leaned towards (Y/N) and asked after a moment, jutting his chin towards Mark as he sat down opposite them.

She turned to him, not answering him. Just staring till he got unnerved.

“Just remember that we’re best friends! Just because he lives in the same city as you doesn’t mean I can be replaced.” Jungwoo huffed, taking a sip of his juice.

“Right now I’m dangerously close to considering it.” She shrugged, holding back a smile when he slid his juice towards her.

“It’s pineapple. I know you like it.” He nudged it again. 

She pushed it back towards him, “The waiter will show up, I can just order one for myself.” She gave him a close mouthed smile.

“Look, (Y/N)!” Jungwoo jabbed a finger at her arm, making her wince, “He said he wants watermelon juice.” He can’t possibly be your best friend.” Jungwoo scoffed, blowing air from between his lips rather dramatically.

(Y/N) laughed this time, “What are you even talking about?” She laughed again. “I love watermelons.” She ruffled Jungwoo’s hair. “And for the record, all of you are my best friends. But if we were keeping score, Sooyoung is the closest to the title.” She laughed again.

“That’s right.” Sooyoung spoke across the table, making Jungwoo turn to her to find her narrowing her gaze at him.

“Shit I was loud again, wasn’t I?” Jungwoo bit his tongue visibly and she laughed again, both amused and done with his antics.

“What about me?” Wendy asked (Y/N) with indignation.

Sooyoung scoffed,“Please, we all know you and Seulgi are stuck by the hip. Don’t try to take her away from me.” She turned to her. Beside Wendy, Seulgi nodded in admittance.

“I love watermelons.” Mark said softly, giving Jungwoo a soft look, “But I like pineapples too.” He said hopefully. Jungwoo looked up, a smile forming on his lips. He pointed at him with a pleased smile.

“We can get along.” He announced, making Mark’s face brighten up.

(Y/N) laughed, turning to Johnny to find him watching her. The smile he had was a new one. She rested her chin on her shoulder, squinting at him.

“What?” She chuckled when he didn’t look away. Johnny just shook his head, resting his cheek in his palm, keeping his eyes on her.

“So.” Seulgi started, “What do you do, Johnny?” She toyed with a piece of tissue, her gaze on him. He peeled his gaze away from (Y/N) with leisure, sitting up straight when he faced Seulgi.

“I’m an investment banker.” He shrugged, not holding her eye contact.

“That explains the watch.” Yeri murmured, making (Y/N) and Sooyoung turn to her with horror. Wendy nodded in agreement with Yeri. “What?” She said defensively when she noticed the glares, “You told me that the best way to judge a man was his watch.” She pointed at (Y/N), making her put her hand on her temple.

“Yeri!” Joohyun coaxed her with her eyes to stop talking, but it was too late. (Y/N) just stayed in her position, turning to give Johnny a nervous laugh.

“She’s right.” Johnny shrugged, “Shoes too.” He nodded in agreement.

“That’s exactly what she said!” Yeri spoke up in excitement.

“Fuck me.”(Y/N) groaned, the embarrassment just piling on.

“Here?” Johnny clicked his tongue, catching her off guard. Before she could process, he moved on. “You’ve got taste, (Y/N). I didn’t know you liked watches.” He flicked his wrist and raised the dial. “What do you think about this one?” He asked curiously. 

She looked at the Piguet on his wrist, giving him an appreciative nod, “I like it better than what you wore yesterday. Though that’s just personal preference.” She added tapping her own wrist, Johnny’s eyes going to the watch, the same maker as his. Johnny smiled, pleased with that, it gave her the confidence to ask her next question, “What is your favourite?”

“It’s a Vacheron I got myself after an important IPO.” He said, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“So you’re basically a collector.” She gave him her own pleased smile.

“Is that good?” He asked.

“It’s better than buying one just because it’s the most expensive.” She shrugged.

“Can we order food?” Haechan’s voice snapped, both their gaze fluttering away towards him, “I’m very happy for you Johnny but it’s one in the afternoon and I haven’t eaten breakfast.” Haechan groaned.

On the way back, (Y/N) watched the scenery pass by outside the window. She tried to stay still as Joohyun slept on her shoulder, and Yeri on hers. Sooyoung turned back from one of the front seats, waving to get her attention. (Y/N) raised both her brows at her when she acquired it.

“You aren’t allowed to skip dinner tonight. If any of your clients have something to say, tell them that the glass ceiling is bad enough without them encroaching on your free time.” She warned in earnest. (Y/N)’s eyes danced with mirth as she nodded at her.

“I’m going to go back and go to the gym for a bit, okay?” She bit her lip. “Then I’m going to be at dinner.” Her eyes edged to the back of Johnny’s head that peaked from on top of his seat. She wondered if he was asleep, whether he heard her words. Sooyoung gave her a thumbs up before turning back to Doyoung to say something, letting (Y/N) settle back into her view watching.

(Y/N) took a deep breath as she lifted herself off the floor, music blaring in her ears to distract her from the burn in her muscles. She relished in the way her lungs burned, her mind clearing up in the way it did when she focused on physical activity. 

She thought about Johnny, failing to ignore the way her insides clenched at the idea. There was nothing wrong with flirting with an attractive man, she reassured herself. Yet, a better part of her knew that she was messing with a person. She fell back on the floor with a huff, breathing rapidly as her lungs adjusted to the rest. She chastised herself again, he was also Doyoung’s friend. 

She took another shallow breath. She tried not to entertain the idea of something more than casual flirting. He was clearly also preoccupied with his job, there would be no need for her to even consider more. A better person would just cut it out, spare the man the means to an end.

She felt the reverberations of footsteps on the wooden floor, lifting her head to see Johnny walk into the gym. She rested her head back on the floor to stare at the ceiling lights, a smile playing at the edge of her lips— so he was awake in the van after all.

He came and stood above her as her slowly steadying breath picked up again. He was so incredibly attractive that it was hard to be a better person. He parted his lips, saying something she couldn’t hear over her music. She lifted a finger at him, taking a bud out of her ear.

“Yes?” She asked, Johnny bit back a smile.

“Need help?” He raised a brow. She bit her lip and his eyes drifted down to them.

She could try to be a better person when she was back home.

“Do I look like I need help?” She feigned confusion. Johnny crossed his arms in front of his chest, she took note of the black sleeveless shirt that hung from his shoulders.

“No.” He paused, his frame still silhouetted under the lights, and she sat up on the mat to get a better look at him. “But I’d like to anyway.” He grinned when she nodded. 

He sat down at her feet, putting his arms around her shin. She was grateful for her already shallow breath and flushed face in the moment. She put her palms flat on the floor behind her, watching him for a moment, enjoying the sight of him with his arms around her legs and staring up at her. Her breath quickened a little, lips parting to take in a breath. On his part, he looked like he was enjoying her attention; no visible effects of anything on his face.

“Well?” He raised a brow at her. 

Bastard, she thought with a smirk, lying back down to continue her crunches.

“So,” Johnny spoke up as she got a few crunches in, “What do you do for fun?” He asked in a conversational tone.

“I have a personal goal of finding the best restaurants in New York,” She sat up, meeting his eyes, “Categorised according to cuisines of course.”

“That’s an interesting hobby.” He grinned, she shrugged at him, trying to think of other things one would consider a hobby.

“I cook sometimes," She added, "Trying to become really good at it actually.” She huffed as she fell back. 

Johnny hummed, “As someone who is a terrible cook, how does one get better?” He questioned when her eyes lifted to meet his gaze.

“You make something.” He laughed at the simple answer as she fell back, “And then when you fuck up, you consider all the things that possibly went wrong.” Their eyes met again.

“Is everything a competition to you?” There was no judgement in his eyes, only curiosity. 

She stopped to laugh, “When you put it like that,” She chuckled again, thinking over his statement. “I think I just like to do whatever I do, thoroughly.” She seemed satisfied by that self-assessment. “I’m not good at a whole lot of things. But the ones I do, I want to do as well as I’m capable of doing.” She added, an odd smile lifting her lips. That was the first time she truly verbalised that about herself.

“So you’re a perfectionist?” He asked, (Y/N) scoffed at the simplification, going back to her crunches.

“Perfection is a myth.” She sat back up, “I don’t strive for unattainable things.” 

Johnny’s arms tightened around her calves, stuttering her movements.

“Interesting.” He mumbled.

She laughed, “What is?” Her head lifted from the floor.

“You are.” He smiled as their eyes met, “And what do you do for a profession?” He moved on from his previous line of thought too quickly.

“I work in grassroots organisation. Policy.” She was going back down but paused when he made a face.

“So you’re a lobbyist?” He squinted with humour. 

She shoved his shoulder with a laugh, “You’re an investment banker!” He grinned at that, “What right do you have to judge me?” They laughed together. He let her legs go and she crossed them to mirror his position.

“Nothing, I guess there’s just implicit bias when that word is involved.” Johnny shrugged, laughing again as he ran his fingers through his hair, the dark strands falling on his forehead. She hummed skeptically at his words.

“My boss works for a Women’s organisation. I lobby for equal rights.” He nodded at her skeptically and she rolled her eyes, “Someone has to do it you know? Otherwise it’s just the oil and gun lobby running around.” He considered her words.

“So you’re an equalizing force?” He asked and she snorted.

“I wouldn’t give myself that much credit, but on the organisational level yeah, I guess.” She affirmed.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate, “I’m passionate about it. And it matters to me.” She searched his eyes for some giveaway, he gave her a smile.

“I can understand why you work hard then.”

“What about you? What makes you get out of bed?”

“I’m passionate about making money.” He grinned, laughing when she laughed out at his confession. “Not as noble as you though, I suppose. He shrugged.

“Hey!” She shoved his shoulder again, “Nothing wrong with liking money. Money can’t buy you happiness but it sure makes misery comfortable.” She scoffed, making him laugh.

“I guess I just like living a comfortable life. I like nice things: good wine, a nice view from my bedroom window,” He paused to lick his lips. “Beautiful women.” His eyes bored into hers with the last words and she hoped her blush wasn’t too dreadfully obvious.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Her voice was more afflicted than she would like. 

Johnny let out a strained laugh, “I didn’t think I would be as relieved as I feel to hear someone say that.” He pushed back his hair again, his eyes fluttering away from hers.

“Everybody wants to be comfortable.” Her brows creased, not understanding his frustration. “And if you work as hard as I assume you do. You have the right to do whatever you want.” She added, trying to get across that she understood.

“You don’t think it’s shallow?” There was an odd vulnerability in his eyes that passed too soon.

“No.” Her brows creased, “I think it’s admirable.” 

Johnny scoffed like he didn’t believe her.

“I’m serious.” She laughed, hitting his shoulder again. This time his eyes followed the movement. “You know exactly what you want out of life. How many of us can say that?” He looked up at her when she said that, the look in his eyes he had at the restaurant in the morning, the one she couldn’t yet decipher.

“I never thought about it like that. Though it’s not entirely true.” He added. When she parted her lips to ask him to elaborate, he sat back, “We’ll be late for the dinner, (Y/N).” He pointed at the clock on the wall. She nodded at him, deciding not to push.

Johnny stood up, giving her a hand. She snorted but took it, unprepared for the way he pulled her up, steadying her balance with a hand on her waist. There was a respectable distance between them, one that she silently felt disappointed about. He seemed to enjoy lowering his gaze to meet hers though, his eyes glinting. She lifted her arm to push him away playfully, but he grabbed it when it met his shoulder.

“You aren’t that strong, you know? You keep doing that like you know I’ll give in and move to humour you.” His voice dropped to a sinful octave.

“I didn’t realise you were humouring me. Should I use more strength?” Her words were brazen despite her weak tone.

“Try.” He dared her. She bit her lip, her bluff caught too quick. 

She had no chance to overpower the man in front of her. Still pride was a compelling motivator and she tried her best. Pushing his chest with a little more force than she hoped. He didn’t budge, moving closer to her to rub it in.

“Do it again.” He commanded. A ragged exhale left her. She added more force, he put his hand over hers, coming even closer and holding her palm on his chest.

“Johnny.” The way the word came out as a whine made her bite down on her tongue. She felt the vibration of the groan that left his throat before she heard it. She wanted to hear it again.

He leaned down closer to her face, lips brushing against her forehead. “The things I want to do to you.” He moved again, his lips brushed her temples. “Slow and agonizing.” His lips moved against her skin. If he wasn’t holding her so securely, her legs would have given out. She took in another breath, silently willing him to just kiss her. She wanted to grab him and do it herself, but she wanted him to give in first.

“Tell me.” She said instead, more to distract herself. His fingers squeezed her palm on his chest, his hand engulfing it to the extent that it wasn't visible. 

His lips brushed against her eyes. “Oh you are terrible.” He groaned again, “Winding me up like there aren’t going to be any consequences.” She heard herself sigh, so aroused that it felt insane to think that he hadn’t done anything but speak. 

When he let her waist go, the whine that left her lips was more lewd than she thought she was capable of making. He looked down at her like she had slapped him. Yet, she was the one who felt absolutely knocked out within an inch of her life.

“You.” His voice came out breathy and strained. He paused, a distressed laugh escaping his lips. He ran his fingers through his hair again, she resisted the urge to do it for him. “We’re late.” His voice was low, reprimanding her. It made her toes curl.

“Okay.” She said, her eyes focused despite the squeak of her voice.

(Y/N) stood under the freezing water of her shower, her skin too hot and her mind too clouded. All she could imagine was his eyes, his fingers wrapped around her hands; his large hands, his long fingers. She took a deep breath, focusing the sensation of the water running down her body instead. Her mind betrayed her again, drifting to imagine what his hands would feel like on her body, around her throat. She clenched her thighs so tight that the muscles protested. She thought about his voice, the gentle but firm authority with which he scolded her. 

She squeezed her eyes tight, suddenly very annoyed that she didn’t have enough time to get off. Though, a part of her guessed that maybe for the first time in years, that wouldn’t feel enough. She felt like a teenager.

“This is what happens when you don’t get laid for too long.” She mumbled.

(Y/N) stood in front of her suitcase for so long that Joohyun had started giving her glances. She stared at the dress tucked into the corner of her suitcase. She was supposed to wear it for the rehearsal dinner, she had planned her outfits according to the events. The black dress she had decided for tonight lay on top of all her other clothes, but her eyes remained fixed on the other one.

Eventually, Joohyun came and stood beside her, peering into the suitcase to find whatever her friend was glaring at.

“Which one do you want to wear?” She asked her. (Y/N) pointed at the dress in question, letting out a huff.

“Just wear it then!” She knocked her shoulder against hers, “They’re all nice dresses. You can wear the one you wanted to wear tonight on the day you were planning to wear the other one. That way your stupid schedule isn’t too shaken up.” Joohyun sighed.

(Y/N) turned to her with a serious gaze, “You know me too well. It’s a little concerning.” She stated. Joohyun just hummed, tired of this conversation already.

“Can you please get ready? You already came back late!” She grumbled, pulling out the dress and putting it in her arms before pushing her towards the bathroom.

There was a knock on the room’s door, making both Joohyun and (Y/N) turn. Joohyun got up and walked over to it.

“Who is it?” She asked.

“Is (Y/N) ready?” Jungwoo knocked again, making them both roll their eyes.

Joohyun opened the door, “Yeah. Why?” She asked with a sigh. Jungwoo peeked from behind her to look at her before turning back to Joohyun as they both came back towards the room.

“Would you call her dress red or more of a maroon?” He pointed at (Y/N) with scrutiny. Joohyun turned to assess it herself.

“I think it’s more of a purple?” She said, unsure. 

Jungwoo huffed at her, “Bae Joohyun, where are you glasses? That is not purple!” He sounded exasperated.

“I’m literally standing right here.” (Y/N) put her hands on her hips.

Jungwoo hummed, “Well?” He questioned her impatiently, “Which is it then?”

“Why?” She shot back.

“I’m learning colour theory.” He didn’t flinch.

“Red.” She sighed, not having the patience for Jungwoo’s eccentricities at the moment. He hummed again, lifting up his phone to type something as he left.

Both of them watched him walk out the room, closing the door behind him, “Why is he so weird?” Joohyun mumbled.

“If you find out, let me know.”

“My god.” Wendy whistled as (Y/N) and Joohyun left the room, “Look at you!” She said, glancing up and down (Y/N)’s body.

She looked down, a little embarrassed, “What?” She chuckled.

“You look like a fever dream. I’m almost feeling protective thinking about how many people are going to be eyeing you up tonight.” Wendy laughed.

(Y/N) smiled at her gratefully, “We all look great. Don’t single me out like this.” Her face felt a little hot.

“Yeah, Wendy.” Joohyun giggled, “You’re making (Y/N) shy.” She winked at her.

“You have no right to be shy in that!” Wendy gestured up and down her frame, “Act like the absolute vixen you look.” She nodded in appreciation.

“Can we stop this?” She groaned, “Where are the rest?” She changed the topic.

“Downstairs already. I can never decide what to wear so I was delayed.” She shrugged, threading her arm through both Joohyun and (Y/N)’s, “It paid off though, I’m about to walk into the room with two hot women and be the envy of the ball.” She sighed dramatically.

“Are you drunk already?” Joohyun asked, making (Y/N) snort.

(Y/N) was walking around in search of Jungwoo when she bumped in Mark quite literally.

“Oh.” He jumped back before looking back up at her, “Oh hey it is red.” Mark smiled looking at her dress. Straightened up a second too late, “I mean, nice dress (Y/N).” He laughed nervously.

“Thanks Mark.” She furrowed her brows but he was already waddling away.

The next unexplainable encounter she had was when Haechan walked up to her, “You look very nice, (Y/N).” He smiled at her brightly, “Sorry, I haven’t really had the chance to introduce myself to you properly so I wanted to do that.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I’m guilty of that.” She laughed, “I’m terrible with meeting new people.” She shrugged guiltily.

“You know.” He bought his glass up to his face, tapping his chin with his index finger, “I would have never guessed that.” He chuckled to himself.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Ignore him.” A voice breathed close to her ear, catching her off-guard and making her jump. Johnny came and stood beside her, "I really did start to miss that." He smirked, implying her surprise.

"And why exactly do I deserve to be ignored?" Haechan crossed his arms in front of his chest. Johnny's reply was a noncommittal shrug.

“Do you want something to drink?” Johnny looked to her, his wandering eyes making blood pool into her cheeks. She looked away from his eyes, noticing his tie— red like her dress.

Haechan scoffed, “What are you doing to your voice, dude?” His voice an inch short of an outright laugh. “You sound like you swallowed something wrong.” This time he laughed. (Y/N) curled her lips in to stop her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Johnny coughed, giving him a pointed look.

“Please.” Haechan snorted, turning to (Y/N), “I’ve sat beside him while we watched Lion King and he cried till his nose was double, and his eyes half its size. Don’t fall for this nonsense.” He snorted again.

Johnny gave Haechan a tight smile, standing beside him and putting an arm around his shoulder, “Isn’t he adorable?” He told her. Haechan gasped, hitting Johnny’s arm but she could see it flex, tightening around the younger boy’s neck.

“Okay, okay.” Haechan’s voice came out strained, “You’ve made your point.” He tapped on his arm twice and Johnny let go. “Nice tie.” He pointed at it, walking away before Johnny could grab him again.

There was a moment’s silence. (Y/N) watched Johnny’s face turn red as his eyes looked to each side. It gave her more pleasure than she would have initially estimated to watch Johnny get flustered. She made a mental note to thank Haechan for it at some point. He opened his mouth before closing it, before opening it again.

“Everybody cries during Lion King.” She put him out of his misery. The laugh that left his lips was an embarrassed one. With intimate glee she realised that she finally had the smallest upper hand. “Nice tie.” She pointed at it, letting her smile bloom this time.

Johnny hummed, “It matches your dress.” He said like he just noticed.

“It does.” Her lips twitched, “Almost like it was planned.” She speculated. 

Johnny’s eyes widened the slightest bit before he sighed, “I should have known. Subtlety isn’t Mark’s language.” He ran his fingers through the tie.

“If it helps,” She leaned towards him, “It’s not one of Jungwoo’s linguistic abilities either.” Johnny laughed out loud at that, the sound rich and deep. His laugh was an unique one, each sound disjointed in a way that would sound a little sarcastic if it didn’t accompany the way his eyes upturned and his cheeks stretched up. It made her smile.

“How about that drink then?” She questioned and he nodded, his usual smirk back on his lips.

Sooyoung stood beside a table of snacks, with her eyes on (Y/N) and Johnny. She skewered a piece of potato on her plate without looking at it, not noticing Doyoung and Haechan walking towards her.

“Your wife is intimidating.” Haechan pointed out, earning a glare from Doyoung.

“What are you looking at?” Doyoung asked, following her gaze to find it’s source. (Y/N) looked like he laughed at something Johnny said as they both sat down on two chairs tucked away in a corner.

“Johnny’s tie matches (Y/N)’s dress.” She put the potato into her mouth, pulling it from the skewer with her teeth slowly. Haechan visibly shivered.

“It was Johnny’s brilliant idea, he even put Mark up to finding out what she was wearing. I don’t know how Mark Lee, of all people, managed to find out. But it worked.” Haechan shrugged.

“Isn’t that a little too much?” Doyoung winced.

Haechan scoffed, “You know he’s a romantic at heart, always making gestures. Plus,” Haechan sniggered, “That isn’t even the worst part.” He put his hand beside his mouth like he was ready to spill some gossip.

Sooyoung snapped her neck towards him, making Haechan’s eyes go wide. “Continue.” She all but demanded.

“Umm,” Sooyoung’s gaze made him nervous, “He’s trying to act all cool and badass.” Haechan clapped his hands laughing with a shrill delight as he recalled it, “Raising his eyebrows all broody.” He tried to imitate, wiggling his eyebrows and puckering his lips. Doyoung snorted, thinking about his friend— he was nothing if not thorough.

Sooyoung turned to frown at Doyoung, “If your friend hurts (Y/N) I’m going to chop those long limbs off him.” She narrowed her eyes, “You can imagine what I will do to you.” She skewered another potato and brought it to her lips. Both Haechan and Doyoung gulped.

“He isn’t like that, Sooyoung.” Doyoung pouted, “Johnny’s the most sentimental one out of all of us, he just looks all big and bad.” He reassured her. “Just ask Mark.” He grabbed the boy as he passed by, putting him between him and his fiance as a makeshift shield.

“Ask me what?” He squinted, before he noticed Sooyoung’s intimidating gaze. He tried to pry out of Doyoung’s hold but he held him in a death grip.

“Tell Sooyoung about how you and Johnny drink together and cry about your mutual lack of romance.” Doyoung nudged.

Mark’s face turned red, “Hey, that was a secret.” He whined, going still when Sooyoung came closer, pointing her skewer at him.

“What are Johnny’s intentions with (Y/N)?” She narrowed her eyes at him, Mark swallowed.

“He likes her. He, like, really likes her.” Mark lowered his voice. “He made me find out what colour her dress was to match his tie. That’s too cheesy even for Johnny.” Mark cringed. “I mean he promised to get me the Xbox if I did, so I did it anyway.” Mark smiled as he thought about that, “Pretty sweet.” He looked pleased, shaking his head when Sooyoung glared at him.

“He’s not a bad guy, Sooyoung.” Mark said, “He’s the ‘settle down with two kids’ kind of guy.” He smiled before quickly adding, “That doesn’t mean he’s going to do that already. Johnny’s quiet guarded about most things. He’s mostly resigned to his overloaded lifestyle and only talks about these things when he’s really really drunk. He won’t overwhelm (Y/N), he’s very understanding.” Mark blurted out his monologue, pausing when he realised that his need to defend his best friend made him say too much.

“Sooyoung.” Doyoung sighed, coming out from behind Mark and taking her hand in his, “You’re the one who was trying to set them up,” He sighed, “Of course I noticed.” He added when she tried to speak up.

Sooyoung chewed on her lip for a second before sighing. “Look at her, Doyoung.” Sooyoung turned to look at them across the room, still talking to each other in their corner. “(Y/N) isn’t the casual type. She hasn’t even dated anyone since the first year of university! I thought I would encourage her so she’d ease into the idea again. I know she’s a workaholic, so I thought she’d find something in common with Johnny.” Sooyoung sighed, her eyes filled with familial concern, “But look at her!” She pointed, “She looks infatuated.” As if on cue, (Y/N) laughed at something Johnny said. She hit his shoulder playfully, looking away when Johnny’s face turned to her hand, her lips tugging with a smile.

“They look like they’re getting comfortable to the idea of each other.” Doyoung smiled, so did Sooyoung.

“Do we have anything planned for tomorrow?” She turned to Doyoung.

“Not particularly. We have to go pick up our parents at the airport and meet the hotel chef to finalise our menu.” He waited for her to tell him what she was thinking. 

Sooyoung frowned. 

“Why?” Doyoung furrowed his brows.

“I thought we could bring them with us somewhere. So they could get to know each other.” She chewed on her lip, turning her frown to the boys when they all simultaneously laughed.

“I can assure you,” Doyoung pinched Sooyoung’s cheeks, “You don’t have to help Johnny with that.”

Jungwoo and Seulgi caught sight of the circle, intently discussing something. Jungwoo marched straight towards them, Seulgi following behind him.

“What are we talking about?” Jungwoo asked, making Mark squeal.

“Nothing.” Sooyoung said.

“Setting up Johnny and (Y/N) up.” Mark said at the same time.

“Pimping our friends out.” Haechan said too, making everyone give him a disgusted face. “What? It’s the same thing.” He scoffed.

At some point, the both of them had started walking, somehow ending up outside the ballroom. The warm sea breeze balmy against her skin. Johnny was telling her about his top three favourite wines and the merits of each and they compared their preferences.

"Don't get me wrong." She explained, "A Bordeaux is in no way a bad wine."

"But?" Johnny nudged her.

"But." She shrugged, "Don't you think it's too sour? Considering that it's meant to be one of, if not the, best wine."

"That just means you had a set of heavy expectations when you met your first bottle." Johnny pointed out, "And then left disappointed when it didn't meet them all." He shrugged. "It's a fine wine." He chuckled.

"For 900 dollars a bottle, you'd think all expectations would be met and surpassed. Why else would you buy it?" She wiggled her brows at him.

"Because you can." He stated simply, "It's just one of those things that doesn't really make sense." He grinned at her skeptical expression.

"Think about it this way," He continued. "It's an industry, it employs people and as far as the process goes, it's mostly human operated. So if you can afford to buy one without making a dent in your financial situation." He shrugged again like he made his point. "Everything has a market."

"Spoken like a true Wall Street man." She joked, "It's a unique perspective, I'll give you that. Spending is important for economies."

"Exactly!" He grinned, pleased to communicate his point. "I still think we must give to charity. But doing things like paying a respectable wage and utilising resources that employ other people is also an important part of fiscal responsibility."

"You're right." Her eyes lit up as she thought about that.

"My favourite words to hear." He grinned, earning a nudge to his shoulder instinctually before she could stop herself. He let himself be shoved, giving her a meaningful smile.

"I don't understand you." (Y/N) blamed the three glasses of alcohol currently churning in her belly for making her blurt that question out. Johnny gave her a quizzical smile. "On one hand you're a tease." She bit her lip, not sure she formed that sentence the way she had intended when she went over it in her head. Yet, she continued, "On the other you try to match outfits." She bit back a smile at the thought.

"Was it a bit too much?" Johnny winced, halting his steps to turn to her. 

"No." She added too quickly, "It's very sweet. I'm not saying I mind any of this." She paused, knowing that she had a point to this. "I'm just trying to figure you out." She remembered.

"I like making gestures." Johnny shrugged. He ran his fingers through his tie with a smile, "This was a gesture."

"Of what?" Again she blamed the alcohol for the sudden courage.

He looked up at her eyes, his smile replaced by an intense stare. "Do you prefer to be alone because it's too tedious with work?" She felt taken aback by the sudden question.

She realised that they were in one of the manicured gardens scattered across the property, surrounded by dense tropical shrubs and the gentle fragrance of orchids in bloom. She could hear the waves crashing against the beach nearby, her hair brushing against her clavicle in the breeze.

"I guess." She said, unsure of where the conversation was going. "I mean, I don't expect someone to wait for me to text them back because I opened it and then got a call from my boss which made me forget. I also don't expect someone to be okay with me cancelling dates because something came up. I just don't think it's fair." She paused, trying to find the right words. "Plus, you can't really build a meaningful relationship like that, can you?" She gave him a weak smile, certain now that this conversation was an end before anything ever had the chance to bloom.

"So what do you do?" He turned to face her, his eyes burning into her. The gas lamp behind them illuminated his features, she traced them with her eyes. When she felt satisfied that she would remember it she looked down at her palm.

"You choose between the two." She smiled sadly at her hands, "At this point in my life, I would choose my career over a relationship. Will I change my mind later? Maybe." She took a deep breath, a slow vulnerability seeping into her, "Will it be too late when I do? Who knows." She took another steady breath, looking up at him. "But I've worked too hard to get where I am, either way I won't regret it." She wondered if he had his answer.

"Would you choose to be with someone who also doesn't have the time, but wants to try and see if he can have both?" One corner of his lips lifted. 

She stared at him for a second, not expecting that at all. She was ready for him to accept whatever could have been between them as a dead-end and she would agree with him and go their own ways. She prepared herself for that inevitability, coaxing her disappointment with rationale. Instead he said something that she didn't dare to consider. When the shock of it subsided she thought about his words.

"You don't have to answer that now. In fact I would want you to take you time. I just hope we can be on the same page." He toyed with his fingers, biting his upper lip as he pondered over something.

"What does the page look like?" Her voice was small, afraid she might be letting hope pick up a message he wasn't giving.

He looked up at her, "I really like you, (Y/N)." The way he said it, like it was almost inevitable, made her heart flutter, "When we met on the yacht, even before that at breakfast.” He laughed to himself, “Before Jungwoo even had the chance to mention our previous encounter," He bit back a smile, "I thought you were attractive." He paused to sigh, combing his hand through his hair.

She wondered why he bothered styling it so well if he would just do that. She wondered how her fingers would feel in his hair, combing through it like that.

"And as I get to know you more." He paused, wincing like he was bracing himself. "I think you're a real catch. I think we understand each other." She saw the blood rush to his cheeks as he fluttered his gaze away. "I don't want to smother you with all this, though. All this is just a way to say that we have this week to learn about each other. Time is a luxury I hardly have." He paused again, looking back at her with a soft conviction in his eyes, "But I would give you whatever I can afford if it meant we could explore this beyond a 'what if'." His gaze was an affectionate one.

Her heart pounding so loud in her chest that her voice came out winded, "Okay." She said, "I want that too. Everything you just said." The sound of her blood rushing echoed in her ears.

Johnny gave her what she categorised as the most dazzling smile yet, one full of affection and warmth.

Day 4

“Guys.” Jungwoo spoke as all of them walked towards the restaurant for breakfast, “There’s something up with (Y/N).” He dipped his head to look at her face better. “She’s smiling to herself.” He gasped.

He earned the displeased frown she gave him. Wendy put her arm around her shoulder, shielding her from him.

“Leave (Y/N) alone. She hasn’t had her cup of coffee yet, she’ll smack you.” Wendy warned, making Seulgi snort.

“Ugh that reminds me.” Jungwoo groaned, “I have a hangover. (Y/N) I want a cup of whatever nightmare coffee you drink. I have a conference call to attend.” He made a face. She gave him a sympathetic nod. “Why do you look so tired though?” He questioned, “I would have assumed that you’d at least get sleep on holiday.” Jungwoo sighed.

“(Y/N) came back at 1 am last night.” Joohyun added with a secretive smile. (Y/N) turned to her with wide eyes, shushing her.

“Excuse me?” Yeri squealed, “Where were you?” She tried to be firm.

“I was just walking around the compound.” She murmured, trying to walk faster.

“Alone?” Seulgi grabbed her arm.

(Y/N) paused, not exactly ready to talk about this, but not comfortable lying either. “No.” She said slowly.

“We’re here.” Jungwoo pointed at the glass doors of the restaurant. “Come on (Y/N), you promised me a cup of hell coffee.” He nudged her forward. She couldn’t be sure, but she was thankful for his interruption anyway.

“Two espresso shots?” Jungwoo stared at the machine incredulously as she tapped it in.

“I thought you wanted a cup from hell?” She reminded him, “That’s half of what i’m getting for myself. She laughed at the look he gave her.

“You’re going to die young, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He shook his head, picking up his finished cup.

“Burn bright and fizzle quick, that’s always fun.” She replied wryly as he placed a cup for herself, earning a snort.

“So.” Jungwoo said as they waited, his face changing.

(Y/N) sighed, waiting for this for a while. “Later. Just give me some time to process things.” She promised and to her relief, he nodded.

“Not to press this topic.” Jungwoo said with a grin, “But Johnny is looking at you.” He glanced behind her.

“Oh.” She said, trying not to look too shy when she heard those words.

“And he’s coming here.” He added. “Thanks for the nightmare coffee.” He gave her a salute.

“Sounds delicious.” Johnny spoke behind her. He had a habit of doing that, she noted. Jungwoo scrunched his nose, shaking his head furiously.

“This is a necessity, I have work to do.” He added as he walked away.

“Hi.” Johnny said after he left.

“Hi yourself.” She lifted her cup from the machine, suddenly feeling too shy to meet his eyes.

“A little birdie tells me that you are quite the connoisseur of coffee.” He leaned against the table after placing his cup under the machine’s sprout. Her eyes wandered down his legs, seemingly endless.

She looked up at him, ignoring the blush that rose up her neck when their eyes met. Johnny stood with his elbows propped on the table, clad in black sweatpants and a red t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that forced her to remind herself that it was early in the morning. He looked so good that (Y/N) wanted to groan— no one should look that good at 8 am. 

“Which bird is it?” She asked. Johnny pointed his chin across the room. When she followed it, she found Yeri waving at them. Johnny waved back with a smile.

“I wouldn’t call myself a connoisseur.” She turned back to him.

“To be fair, no self respecting person would.” His words made her laugh.

“I do like the merits of variation in coffee depending on where it’s from though.” She admitted. Johnny’s coffee sat ready and he didn’t touch it.

“I hoped you’d say that.”

“Why?” She inquired.

Johnny slid his phone out of his pocket, tapping it open and standing up from his perch on the table. “You know the island is famous for its coffee beans right?” He came up beside her, showing her his screen. “There’s this roastery I wanted to visit but felt weird about travelling an hour just to go alone.” He looked at her hopefully.

“Yes.” She said, his eyes lighting up. 

“Great.” He smiled to himself, “We’ll leave after breakfast?” He asked and she nodded. “Good.” He sounded pleased.

Johnny was on his phone when she walked into the lobby. Shamelessly, she took the moment to appreciate his frame, slowing her steps. He wore a simple black button up with faded jeans, looking every bit worth her appreciation. At some point she would give herself the freedom to wonder just how this breathtaking specimen of a man was interested in her. At the moment, a smile grew on her lips when he looked up from his phone to catch her eyes. He leaned back on the sofa he was sitting on, putting his arm on it’s headrest and watching her walk up to him with an appreciative smile of his own.

“Like what you see?” She decided to tease him this time. 

His eyes sparked with delight at her words, “Absolutely.” His grin grew into a toothy smile. She blushed at his words.

“I took the liberty of asking for a car sans chauffeur. Don’t worry, I am allowed to drive here.” He added thoughtfully.

“I wasn’t.” Her laugh was breathy, “You travel a lot?” She asked.

He nodded, “Mostly for work, so it helps to have an international license.” He explained and she nodded back at him.

“Let’s go then shall we?”

(Y/N) wanted to appreciate the scenery, she really did. The highway they were on was sparse, only the occasional car whizzing by beside theirs. On either side of the road, the view went from dense trees, the sea, terraced paddy fields and even a volcano. She took all of it in with the sort of awe that only nature could give you. 

Johnny played the kind of music that sounded like it was made for a moment like this, it made her chest stir. But even though that, the larger part of her attention remained centered on the man beside her.

At some point, Yeri had firmly planted in her head that there was something inexplicably attractive about a man driving a car. Emphasizing that it was more so when he did that driving with one hand. Sitting here, she made a mental note to confess to Yeri one day that she finally got her point. She tried not to stare at him too long, trying to distract herself with the astonishing view outside the car rather than the stunning one inside it. She passed the ride in the same agonizing way, eventually falling into her own thoughts.

They walked into what the webpage had categorised as a cafe. Yet standing there, it looked like a fine dining restaurant. The interior was a rich cream beige, the gentle hum of music in the background. Tourists mostly occupied the seats, standing out because of their casual beach attire and sun burns. An entire wall made of glass overlooked a large outdoor seating area.

“Do you want to sit outside?” Johnny asked her. She nodded eagerly, catching a look of the sky that was slowly getting cloudy, making the outside look like something out of a dream.

Johnny placed his sunglasses on the table as the waiter approached their table, picking up the menu. “I personally prefer a modest black coffee.” He said like he already knew what we wanted.

“Me too.” Johnny’s lips bloomed into a smile at the answer.

The waiter scribbled into his notepad, “How would you like your coffee to be made?” He asked.

“French Press.” They answered in tandem, laughing at the coincidence.

“Anything to eat?” Johnny asked her.

“Whatever you like.” She shrugged, “We’ll see to what extent our tastes match.” She bit her cheek.

“Is this a test?” He raised a brow.

She clicked her tongue, “It’s an opportunity.” She corrected.

He licked his lips, “You’re slick with your words. I’ll keep that in mind.” Something dangerous sparked in his eyes, gone too soon as he turned back to the waiter, “We’ll get a cinnamon roll each for now, please.” He handed the menu with a polite smile.

“Do I pass?” He tilted his head, toying with his own fingers as he looked at her expectantly and earning her attention.

“I have exactly two sweet pastries I like.” She dragged her eyes away from his fingers before she got ahead of herself, “almond croissants,” She paused to chuckle, “And cinnamon rolls.”

“You don’t like cake?” He questioned.

“I don’t mind it. But I absolutely will not eat one with frosting on it.” She scrunched her nose before considering something, “Unless it’s cream cheese frosting.” She pondered that for a second, thinking about the last time she had it and then nodding to her own statement.

“Specific.” Johnny noted.

“I can be. Once I come to the conclusion that I like or dislike something, It’s usually hard to deter me.” She stated.

“I, myself, am open to all possibilities. But I’m someone who goes after something I want with a sort of reckless abandon.” His eyes sparked with meaning, boring into her.

“I see.” She shied away from his gaze.

“And you?” He kept the conversation rolling rather expertly.

“I’m usually over-cautious about everything I do.” She admitted sheepishly.

An airy laugh came from Johnny, “Seems like we have just enough differences to make this interesting.” His eyes crinkled in the corner. She liked the perspective.

The waiter came back with their order as she explained to Johnny how tedious policy could be. The waiter placed their pastries on the table, followed by two individual sized french presses and two digital timers. She was suddenly really grateful to have found this place.

“Enjoy your afternoon.” He said after and walked away.

(Y/N) picked up one of the timers, fiddling with it and then putting it down after an adjustment. Johnny gave her a quizzical look.

“What?” She laughed, “I don’t brew it for three minutes.” She shrugged.

“I brew it for four.” Johnny said like he absolutely understood where she was going with this, making her laugh again.

She pressed her knuckles on her cheeks, an unsuccessful attempt to curb the smile on her face. 

He was cute, she concluded. 

“I follow this very particular method, which as a whole is nine minutes.”

Johnny looked petrified at the notion, “Isn’t that too much? Your coffee must taste like coal.” He put his hand on his cheek, resting his elbow on the table and musing out loud.

“Don’t knock it till you try it. I swear by this brewing method.” She defended.

Johnny raised both his hands in surrender with a breathy chuckle, “I’m just teasing.”

“That is your favourite thing to do, I am starting to realise.” She scoffed.

“You have no idea, (Y/N).” He gave her a secretive smile that had no right to affect her the way it did. She just stared at him for a moment, wondering how they arrived here while talking about her very precise routines. 

She was thoroughly intrigued by the man who sat in front of her, she realised with a start. It was the most unlikely moment to come to that conclusion, but it sat in front of her as unapologetically as he did. It was mesmerizing in a way that would terrify her if she didn’t know his intentions already. 

If he thought she was a catch, she thought he was captivating. They both watched each other silently, and just for that moment she would give anything to know what he was thinking. 

The sound of their collective timers going off jolted them out of the moment.

“I thought you said nine.” Johnny teased and she gave him a pointed look. He picked up his press to push the grounds down; she opened hers and stirred it before closing it again, readjusting her timer. When she looked up, he was assessing the task.

“We’ll try each other’s and see which works better.” She poked her tongue out at him and he laughed.

“I guess you like a light roast if you keep it for that long.” Johnny deducted.

“Medium roast.” She corrected him, “Light is flimsy, dark makes you taste that roast part more than the coffee part.”

“Dark roast is perfectly fine if you aren’t letting it seep for ten whole minutes.” He scoffed.

“Nine.” She tried to hold back her smile to sound more offended than she felt.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced, making her bite her lip to stop herself from verbalising her indignation further.

When her timer went off again, she eagerly poured herself the coffee.

“What is the point of a french press if you aren’t pressing it down?” He pointed, noting the way she just used the filter more as a strainer, than a press. She ignored him, filling up her cup till the top and pushing it towards him.

“Try it.” She ordered. There was that spark in his eyes again, she ignored it in the face of her pride. “Now.” She pushed.

He picked it up, bringing the cup to his lips. He swirled it around his mouth gently, swallowing it slowly and having a look of deep concentration on his face the entire time. 

He was so hot that it punched out the air from her lungs.

“It’s good.” He admitted, pushing his cup towards her, “Now you.” The real authority in his voice was milder than her feigned one.

“It’s fine.” She said after her sip. 

A humorous huff left Johnny’s lips but he didn’t say anything.

They left the cafe with a bag of coffee beans each, freshly roasted and to their personal preferences. 

“Thank you for bringing me here.” She told him as they reached the car, “I really enjoyed myself and I really liked the coffee. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my day .” Her smile was a satisfied one, Johnny mirrored it.

“Me neither.” He said, “Your company was greatly appreciated.” He looked away, fumbling with the keys as they reached their vehicle. “I’ll remember today very fondly.”

“So will I.” She added without hesitation.

The ride back was relaxed. Johnny told her about the time he took Doyoung to the Vessel in New York and made him climb the stairs, something Doyoung did not enjoy too much. She learned that Johnny’s favourite restaurant was on fifth avenue and that she had never heard of it, something he was shocked to learn. He was also shocked to learn that she hadn’t been to the Vessel yet.

“Living in New York isn’t as exciting as being a tourist in New York, I’ve realised.” She told him. 

Johnny thought over her words for a second before turning to her, “You know, I think you have a point.” His voice laced with his epiphany. “We only went because Doyoung wanted to visit the Vessel.” She hummed.

“If you live somewhere, there’s never a hurry. When I was younger, I wanted to see all the places in the city. So far I’ve been to the Rockefeller centre. And that was only because I had work at the United Nations building.” She sighed to herself. “The park doesn’t count because it’s near everybody’s office.” She huffed a laugh and he agreed.

There was a silence that settled between them, comfortable and unforced. She enjoyed the view, distantly considering visiting that farmer’s market her assistant always got her jam from. When Johnny’s warm palm touched her thigh, a jolt went right down her spine. She turned to him, exercising a mammoth of self control to not look at his hand.

“We’ve stopped.” She seemed to realise, Johnny hummed in response.

“I just thought we could saviour the view.” He looked out through the windshield, she followed his gaze, a small gasp leaving her lips. She pulled closer to the edge of her seat to get a better view. 

There was a cavern in front of them, covered so thoroughly with plants that it was hard to assess how deep it was. On the other side of the gorge, a stream flowed down from the edge of the precipice, a small waterfall. She could hear the gurgle of it as it fell, the mist from it’s fall blurring whatever was below. Far behind the gorge was the volcano, so high that the tip was covered in clouds. Her eyes drank in the surroundings, willing her mind to burn it into memory. She turned to him, rendered speechless and eyes wide in wonder.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He chuckled, she gave him a nod.

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” She whispered, her eyes going back to the view. She looked around, surprised at the empty side of the highway. A view like this, she assumed, would have a flock of tourists.

 They sat for a moment in silence, the splendour in front of them making words feel futile. Johnny pushed his seat back, reclining it so he could relax. She curled up in the seat, tucking her legs underneath her. 

Her movement made him turn to look at her. She turned to him, “What?” She asked. He looked conflicted as he thought about something before shaking his head at her.

“Oh come on.” She laughed, “Tell me!” She insisted. She turned in the seat to face him, bringing her knees up to her chest and leaning her head to the side to rest on the seat. There was a small flash of something in his eyes, suddenly the air between them felt thicker. His eyes traced her frame, his lips parting as his eyes came back to hers. Suddenly she felt very aware of how the tropical humidity settled on her skin, making her feel a little stuffy despite the air conditioning. 

He reached out, taking a hand in his. He looked at her palm carefully, ran his index finger over her digits before he wrapped her hand completely in his, biting down on his lip. She didn’t think such an otherwise rudimentary act would light her entire body on fire.

His eyes fluttered up to hers again, blown out till they looked black. “You’re so small.” The words weren’t anything beyond a simple observation. But the way he said it, struggled and breathless made her sit up in place. “You would fit so perfectly.” He stopped, using his other hand to comb through his hair, laughing whatever trance he was in off. “We should be heading back.” He said, looking back outside through the windshield. 

There was a disappointment that settled into her chest, “Fit where?” She asked, tucking her legs under her and sitting up on them, coming closer to him.

“(Y/N).” His voice was that tone that was meant to be cautious but sounded like an admonishment. She wanted to tell him that doing that wasn’t helping anything.

She took a deep breath, “Johnny.” What she wanted to sound firm came out breathless and needy.

“God, fuck.” He groaned, turning to pick her up like she was a paper doll. She sat in his lap, stunned by his effortless strength. He raised a brow at her and it finally sunk in— she fit in his lap.

“You like it.” She looked up, searching his eyes for an answer, “Being the big strong one.” She placed her palm flat at the centre of his chest, thrilled by the mix of it’s hard muscles and his rapid heartbeat. His fingers squeezed into her waist, giving her his answer in the best way. “You like that you could crush me till I cease to exist.” She rubbed her thighs together as she said that. He noticed, his breathing as shallow as hers. Something about that gave her the last push she needed, she swung a leg over till both her knees dug into the seat. This close, she could smell his cologne, a mix of clean citrus and light spice that made her lick her lips.

Her frame was nothing compared to his. Her eyes went down to his chest, tracing her eyes over it’s expanse. She bit down on her lip, daring to inch closer to it.

“(Y/N)” His voice was a weak protest.

“Johnny?” She looked back up at him, pleased to finally hear the admonishment in her voice. She ran her palm down his chest, feeling the muscles clench under her chest. Feeling every defined crevice, her eyes fixed on the buttons that looked strained.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, baby.” The way the pet name left his lips, she was sure she would cease to exist without him even touching her. His hands stayed beside him, balled into fists but stationary. “I’m trying to be a decent man.” His eyes held no decency in them as they drank her in with intense hunger.

“Okay.” She brought her eyes back on his. She ran her fingers up his arm, thick and strong, dragging her nails against the warm skin. “You be decent.” Her fingers came to his neck, running a finger along the vein that strained against the thin skin, “I want to touch you.” Her eyes watched the vein pulse, a thought occurring to her,  “If you don’t mind.” She dropped her hand, realising that she was probably pushing him.

He threw his head back with a defeated groan, “Why would I mind?” His laugh was deep and throaty, resonating in her chest. When he looked back at her, his eyes were darker than before. “I wanted to take you out on a date. I wanted to sweep you off your feet.” He sighed, his fingers coming up to cup his face, sweeping the pad of his thumb lightly against her lip once. “I wanted to court you.” His eyes peeled away from her mouth to meet her eyes. The combination of his words and the affection in his eyes made a fresh wave of heat pool between her legs.

“This is a date.” She felt herself blush. She would have been embarrassed of how needy she was being if it was anybody else. “You can court me while you touch me. Please.” She whined, loud and unabashed. She felt like a mess, a puddle of pure nerves that was being held up by a mix of sheer will and his secure arms.

Johnny put his other hand on her back, the heat radiating off it penetrating through the thin cotton of her dress. His thumb traced the edge of the elastic of her bra, making her insane.

“One day,” He spoke inches away from her lips, “In the near future.” His eyes held a promise, “I’m going to make you pay for winding up like this. For taking advantage of my weakness for you.” His breath fanned her face, a pleasing smell of coffee and cinnamon. “I’m going to enjoy punishing you so much baby.” She whined at the name, fisting his shirt. When his lips met hers, she completely melted into his chest. His lips were as soft as they had looked, patiently molding over hers.

He was right, she fit perfectly. 

He ran his tongue over her lower lip and she gladly opened her mouth. When his tongue lapped at hers she saw stars behind her eyes. The hand he had on her cheek going down to her waist, wrapping around it completely. She moaned into his mouth when he bit her tongue gently. He pressed the palm on her back firmly, in one swift motion pulling her in and sitting up.

This close, she could feel how hard he was, pulsing against the flesh of her thigh. She moaned again, grinding her hips down on his pelvis like an animal in heat. His thighs tightened under her, flexing in retaliation. His hand slid up from her back to the base of her neck, where it met her back. He wrapped his fingers around it, gently tugging her head back.

“You’re so fucking wet, (Y/N).” He spat the words out, his fingers instinctually tightening around her neck making her roll her hips. “Are you that eager for me to be inside you?” She gasped at his words. “Well?” He added when she didn’t respond, freeing her neck from his hold.

She gave him a hasty nod and his lips curled up deviously. 

“Use your words, (Y/N). You’re so good with them after all.” He ordered, wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger, “You were so verbose moments ago.” He cooed.

“Yes.” She breathed out. His lip twitched in the corner but he remained silent, raising a brow at her like he wanted more. She bit her lip, her chest and face turning red. “Want you inside me.” The words came out as a soft murmur. He hitched her dress up with a single finger, moving agonizingly slow as he dragged it up her thigh. When her dress was drawn all the way to her waist, he ran a finger along the cloth of her underwear, keeping his eyes locked with hers. He pushed the elastic aside, his finger slipping into her folds, the smirk on his face faltering. She shivered at how cold it felt inside her warm folds, he pressed the finger against her clit and she fell forward, hand going to his shoulder to steady herself.

“Do you feel that?” He rubbed circles around her clit, “How wet your cunt is for me?” He looked dangerous in that moment: his voice impossibly low, tongue impossibly filthy. She nodded, afraid he’d pull his finger away if she didn’t respond. 

He dragged his finger down, grazing around her hole with an outrageously light touch. “Is that what you want? Hmm?” His voice was rough.

“Yes, please.” She gasped

“Such an obedient girl.” He praised, slipping his finger in till just the first joint. She wanted to slap his smug face, she equally wanted to kiss it. When she tried to ease her own hips down he stilled her with his grip on her waist. “Patience.” He reprimanded, making her pout, “Aren’t you a good girl, mmh?” He chastised further and she nodded. “Then behave.” He kept his finger so impossibly still. The sound of her blood rushing and their breathing were together echoing in her mind, so loud that she wondered how she even heard his soft voice with the clarity she did.

“I’ll behave.” She repeated, her nails digging into her shoulder in retaliation despite the polite surrender of her voice.

“You will, won’t you?” He pressed his finger the ghost of an inch further. Sweat beaded on her forehead, making her hair stick to her neck and her dress stick everywhere. “You’d let me hold you within an inch of your sanity.” She nodded at his words, her pussy clenching at his words.

He groaned at her compliance, finally pushing his finger all the way in. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, the feeling of being filled so far in with a single finger too much for her to think about. 

She thought about how small her hand had looked in his large one, clenching around his finger again. He pulled his finger out so slow, the wet sound of it moving against her wet walls making her moan. He dragged the nails of his other hand up the back of her scalp, making her skin erupt in gooseflesh. Every single nerve in her body felt battered by his ministrations.

When his finger was out till the first joint, he slammed it back with force. Her lips parted in a gasp, she attached it to the base of his throat to silence her moan.

He took a ragged breath, "Fuck (Y/N) you're so tight." He growled the words out, “Move your hips, baby.” She obeyed, matching his rhythm with a feverish pace. He left lazy kisses on her forehead, temples, eyes and shoulder; a stark contrast to the brutal way his finger rammed into her. When he added a second her back arched, her lips going up to his ear, biting down on his lobe. His wince vibrated in her belly.

“God.” She groaned in his ear, “That feels so good.” Her hand slid down his chest, the other now wrapped around his shoulder. He stroked her hair, tugging the strands gently. She clenched around his fingers again from the sensation

Johnny chuckled, “Your body talks for you.” He murmured against her cheek, pulling her hair with a bit more force and making her look at him. “You’re enjoying that aren’t you?” She gave him a nod, eyes rolling back into her skull. His lips brushed against her throat, humming against it. “Tell me, (Y/N). What feels good?” His lips brushed against the skin on her chest at the edge of the neckline of her dress, never going lower.

“You.” She choked on the word, “Everything about you.” She gasped as he curled his fingers inside her. Her back arched, her chest pressing into his. 

She felt her orgasm approaching, her fingers tightening against his shoulder blade. “Johnny.” She sounded almost on the verge of tears. He gently caressed her hair, shushing her softly.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He cooed at her. She gave him a rushed nod and he quickened pace, turning her neck to face him. “I want to see you.” He said.

She rested her forehead on his, his hand letting go of her neck to caress her shoulders. He coaxed her closer to her edge with words of encouragement and praise, his eyes studying her tightly closed eyes and parted lips. 

Every nerve from the top of her head to her toes fired together as her orgasm crashed through her. She moaned his name out, her body shivering with the waves that rippled to her, leaving her legs wobbly.

They stayed like that for a moment as she slowly came back to reality, her breathing slowly adjusting. Johnny lifted his head, kissing her temples, eye and the corner of her lips. She pulled his shoulder, kissing his lips. He smiled against her lips, cupping her cheeks to angle her face to deepen the kiss.

He kissed down her jaw slowly, “You.” He hummed under her ear, “Are pulling me apart by the seams.” He left a chaste kiss on the soft skin.

“You say that like you didn’t just finger my soul into a different dimension.” She let out a choked scoff. Johnny threw his head back and laughed breathlessly. She noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his hair stuck to it.

He looked back at her, kissing her forehead affectionately. “You’re absolutely magnificent, you know that?” He held her face in his hands, “And so cute.” He squished her cheeks together, making her eyebrows crease. “You’re also so breathtakingly sexy.” He sighed, dragging his fingers through her hair, making her nuzzle into his palm. “It’s hard to keep myself in check around you.” He gave her a smile that made her grin. “I don’t want to scare you off.” He joked.

“Like you wouldn’t pin me in place by the neck if I did?” She teased him, biting her lip when his smile faltered.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong.” He sat up, keeping her steady on his lap with his arm. “I didn’t mean to manhandle you.” He looked away from her.

She blinked, “I liked it. Manhandle me again.” She teased. He looked up at her, eyes a little wide. She blushed, looking down to toy with his fingers, her blush only growing when she noticed that they were still sticky from being inside her. “I think I liked it a lot.” She said meekly.

A thought occurred to her, making her eyes flutter to his jeans, “Though you—” her voice trailed off, he followed her gaze to where she was staring, his erection still pressing against his jeans. He tugged her dress, kissing her with a fervour, leaving her aroused and breathless again.

“When I fuck you for the first time, It isn’t going to be cramped up in a car.” He mumbled into her mouth making her shiver. “Don’t worry about me.” He reassured.

By the time they arrived back at the resort, the sun had already set.

“See you at dinner.” She smiled at him.

“No gym for you today?” His voice was the viscosity of dripping honey.

“I think it’s safe to say that I have completed my cardio quota for the day.” She bit her cheek. Johnny stilled, opening his mouth and then closing it. His cheeks going red as he let out a laugh. 

He fumbled with the keys and she was hit with the realisation that this was the same man who was knuckles deep in her, sitting in the same place he was when he did. And just like that, they were both blushing and fumbling.

“Dinner. Right.” He said. He paused, running his fingers through his hair, “Sorry.” He breathed out the word, “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’m not like, pretending it didn’t happen.” He gave her an apologetic look. Her eyebrows knit together.

“I didn’t think you were. But now I’m concerned.” She joked.

“I’m not.” He added too quickly, “When I like someone I mean it.” He explained.

“Good. So do I.” She added, the glint returning to his eyes.

She got out of the car before she did something that would make them both late for dinner. When she entered her room, she was taken aback to see everyone in her room. To her surprise, Sooyoung was there as well.

“How was it?” Sooyoung sat up on her knees on the bed. Yeri giggled from under the comforter.

“What?” (Y/N) shuffled her feet.

“Oh stop. Mark told Doyoung and Doyoung told me. You went on a date.” She grinned harder. 

“It wasn’t a date.” She blushed.

Sooyoung threw the pillow she hugged to her chest at her feet, “He drove you halfway across the island for a cup of coffee. What else was it?” (Y/N) didn’t have an answer to that.

“Why are you being so secretive? We’re your friends!” Wendy laughed.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, “Because,” She paused, eyes locking with Sooyoung, “I don’t want you to get too involved with this and worry too much. He’s nice, I like him. But I don’t want you to feel responsible for anything because he’s your future husband’s friend.” She came up to Sooyoung, sitting down on the bed in front of her.

“(Y/N)–” Sooyoung sat up.

“I know you’re always worried about me. Plus,” She paused, forming the next thought with labour, “I didn’t want to talk about something till I knew there was something to even talk about. Don’t be mad, all of you are my friends and you are the first people I’d tell anything.”

Sooyoung came forward and hugged her, “I’m not mad. I just want you to be happy. Whatever or whoever that is, that’s yours to have.” She comfortably reassured her.

“So,” Jungwoo interrupted. “Does this mean there is something now? If you’re telling us, that is?” He looked at the ceiling in case she glared at him. Sooyoung pulled back from the embrace, holding at arm's length, silently asking her to answer Jungwoo’s question.

“Maybe.” She toyed with her fingers, her face going hot, making her look down.

This time Joohyun squealed, “Oh my god. You really like him, don’t you?” She squealed again, this time her other friends joined in.

“Depends how much you can really like someone in four days.” She reminded them.

“Oh stop!” Seulgi sat up and swatted at her, “Just enjoy it without trying to be practical. You can think about the logistics after you’re back home.”

“Home where Johnny also lives.” Wendy grinned making (Y/N) groan.

“I’m going to go take a shower. When I come back, my room better be empty. Don’t you guys have to get ready?”

Jungwoo disappeared for the third time, coming back with another pair of glasses.

“For fuck’s sake, Jungwoo.” She groaned.

“Aw come on. You’re my partner in crime. Don’t hold back just because you have a man now.” He pouted.

“That’s not–” She paused, her cheeks heating up. “God!” She groaned, “Just give me that fucking glass you imbecile.” Jungwoo grinned, handing it to her.

“I even got you a lemon slice.” He gestured to the space between his ring and middle finger, where he gripped the slice while holding the glasses. She snorted, pulling it out carefully.

More guests had started flying in for the wedding, making the dinners feel more like parties now. (Y/N) picked a comfortable corner table and stayed there, occasionally coaxing Jungwoo or Wendy to get her something to eat. She didn't need to coax Jungwoo to get her alcohol though, and soon enough she started to feel it heating her stomach and the tips of her limbs.

“Oh my god, (Y/N).” Jungwoo sat down, whisper-shouting at her as he placed another glass in front of her. “Look!” He turned to look behind her, “Two of Sooyoung’s college sorority friends are trying to flirt with your Johnny!” He gasped like he was personally offended.

“He’s not my Johnny.” She furrowed her eyebrows at him. She turned, following his gaze to spot him through the crowd. Sure enough, two girls stood laughing at something Johnny said. She turned back, lifting the glass Jungwoo got her to her lips.

“Well?” Jungwoo asked with urgency.

“What?” She gave him a confused look.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” He pressed.

“No?” She said incredulously. “He’s talking to someone, Jungwoo. People are allowed to do that. You don’t know if they’re flirting.” She paused, taking another sip of her drink. “And even if they are. That’s his problem to deal with, not mine.” She shrugged, taking another sip and realising that she no longer felt the burn of it going down her throat. It was time to stop drinking.

“Aren’t you worried?” He frowned this time.

“No.”

“Why?”

She took a deep breath, “Because.” She gave him a pointed look, “If he likes me he won’t flirt back and I have nothing to worry about.” She raised a brow at him, “And if he does flirt back then he’s not worth worrying about.” She scoffed, “I appreciate the concern though.”

“Wow. You’re so cool!” He clapped his hand on her shoulder, making her stumble in her seat. She frowned— she was drunk. “If I was you I would have gone right up to them.”

“It comes with age.” She smiled when he scoffed.

“You say that like you’re so much older than me.” 

“Plus.” She paused a moment, “Johnny isn’t like that.”

“Oh?” Jungwoo’s voice rose in pitch, “We already know what he’s like, do we?” He smiled.

“I’m an excellent judge of character.” She shrugged again. A giggle bubbling up her lips at the look Jungwoo gave her.

“Come on.” He said, coaxing her to get up. “One more drink and I’ll stop bothering you.” He tugged her arm. “Plus, you need to leave this corner so Johnny can see how good you look in that dress. Just to be sure.” He winked, making her laugh again.

The last drink was a mistake. 

The music had shifted to a slow bass and the lights had dimmed, making her feel more intoxicated than she did earlier. She stood with her arms threaded in Joohyun’s, firmly in place. 

Joohyun had only stopped scolding her for drinking too much, a scowl still on her face. Jungwoo had ran away halfway through the lecture they were both meant to share. Joohyun passed her another bottle of water she slipped out of her bag, something (Y/N) was too grateful for.

“What would I do without you.” (Y/N) cooed.

“Get alcohol poisoning. Now drink.” She glared. (Y/N) nodded and tipped the bottle down her throat, finishing the whole thing in one go, too occupied by the feeling of the cool liquid sliding down her throat to notice that she did.

The song changed to a groovy one, making her sway her hips a little. She thought about how ridiculous she must look, having to hold back a giggle before it erupted. Ten points for self-control, she congratulated herself.

“Uhh,” Joohyun spoke up suddenly, turning to look behind her before looking back quickly. “Are you a horny drunk?” 

(Y/N) took a physical step back at the sudden question, “No!” She sounded scandalised.

“Good.” Joohyun said too quickly, in time for an arm to slide around (Y/N)’s waist.

His cologne announced him before he did, the spicy citrus that made her want to lick his skin.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night.” He leaned towards her head.

“Getting hammered.” Joohyun deadpanned. “I’m starting to believe it’s a problem.” She gave (Y/N) another glare.

“Jungwoo said I can handle it. Obviously, I had to prove myself.” She whined, making Joohyun put her thumb and index finger on the bridge of her nose.

“Can you look after her? I need to go find Jungwoo and Yeri. Last I saw them, he was getting her drunk.” Joohyun frowned. 

“Maybe he’s the one with the problem.” (Y/N) mumbled mockingly., earning Joohyun’s glare.

“Take her back to our room?” Joohyun added. Johnny gave her a dutiful nod. Joohyun gave her a last glare before walking away, leaving her alone with Johnny.

When she turned to him, he was grinning at her, his arm holding her waist tightly.

“So you’ve been having fun.” Johnny laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me.” She warned, and to his credit he tried: biting down on his lip. She stared at it too long. 

There was a small petty part of her, one that she hardly met save for when she was lacking inhibitions as bad as she did right now. She dragged her eyes back to his eyes, “I heard you found some admirers.” She teased. Johnny gave her such a delicious smile that she felt her stomach do an olympic flip. 

So, apparently, she was a horny drunk after all.

“Are you feeling jealous?” He teased right back.

“No. I’m not the jealous type.” She paused, the liquid courage aside, she also felt the liquid ability to spill the truth. “I am the possessive type, though.” She warned.

In answer, he pulled her closer. “Really?” He sounded delighted. She gave him an affirmative hum. “It's a good thing then." He paused and licked his lips, "That I’m all yours.” His tongue sweeped over his lips, she wished he’d do that to her lips instead.

Definitely a horny drunk.

“I thought so.” She smiled to herself.

“Oh?” He smiled.

“Are you the jealous type?” She changed the topic.

“No. Anyone I’m with, I trust. You don’t feel that way if you trust someone.” He made a lot of sense, he did. But she was in the mood to be a little shit.

“It helps that you look like that.” She gave him a look over, he laughed.

“Like what?” He raised a brow and she scoffed.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t take advantage of a drunk, helpless girl.”

He laughed at that, but seemingly conceded.

“Do you want to sit down?” He asked after a moment, probably realising that she wasn’t steady enough to be upright for so long.

“No, I want you to kiss me.” There was a pause, she bit her tongue. On one hand, she was mortified. 

(Y/N) had a rule to avoid drunken embarrassment: she just asked herself if she would say what she wanted to say if she was sober. If the answer was a no then she kept silent. She reluctantly took away the ten points she had previously given herself.

Yet, on the other hand, Johnny looked like sin on legs.

“You’re drunk.” He scolded. Somehow, when he did it, it was so sexy that she wondered if there was something wrong with her.

“So?” She could hear the stubborn persistence in voice, almost like she wanted to be told off again.

“Didn’t you just ask me not to take advantage of you while you’re drunk and helpless?” He clicked his tongue.

She wriggled in his hold, grabbing his arm when he tried to tighten in around her waist to keep her still. She turned to look at him. From this close she had to crane her neck a lot to get a good look at him. She fit into his arms snugly, coming up to his shoulders.

Johnny let out a shaky exhale.

She bit down impossibly hard on her cheek to stop her smile, “I was stone cold sober in the afternoon.” He took another deep breath. “I’ll be sober tomorrow and still want to kiss you.” She realised her own breath was shallow, her core throbbing.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, (Y/N). You know that?” He pushed a hand through his hair, a low growl imitating from his throat.

“Prove it.”

He led her out of the banquet hall, holding her hand tightly in his as he guided her god knows where. There was a grin of victory on her face, one she aimed to the back of his head. 

He stopped in the middle of some corridor, pushing her to the wall and locking his lips to hers.

She knew for a fact that alcohol numbs your senses, freeing you from pain and sensation for however long it held its effects. 

But, being kissed by Johnny at the moment, she felt everything to an impossible extent. Her hands fisted his hair, making him groan into her mouth. His hair was soft in her palms, the ends poking into them occasionally and tickling the soft skin. 

She felt the warmth of his palm as it roamed her body, there was nothing slow about them. Whatever restraint he had in the afternoon seemed to have disappeared and she was more than happy about that. She didn’t want his restraint, she wanted his untapped desire.

When he bit down on her tongue, she thought she would cum right there; shamefully, like a teenager with their hormones unstable and directing every action. She mewled against his lips and he ran his hands up her arms, pinning them against the wall and deepening the kiss.

On fire. 

That’s how her body felt in his grasp. She felt mad with desire. Like it fogged her brain and befuddled her body. He kissed down her jaw, her head falling back to catch a much needed breath.

“You left me a little gift today.” He mumbled against her neck, “I thought I’d return the favour.” He poked his tongue, licking a soft circle around the skin before biting down. 

Her moan echoed against the tight walls of the corridor. If someone heard, then she'd worry about it if they came to inquire. He sucked on the skin harshly, no doubt leaving a clear mark. She thought back to when she managed to give him a hickey, her mind too cloaked my lust to focus on anything else.

“Now we both have a matching pair.” He lapped the raw flesh to soothe it. She could only groan in response. She rolled her hips into his, making him shiver. She did it again just because of his response.

He let her hands go to grab her waist, pushing her back into the wall.

“If you do that, I just might fuck you right here.” He warned. She pouted at him, gasping when he bit the flesh inside her lower lip. “Don’t be petulant.” He admonished.

“You seem to like it.” Her voice was, in fact, petulant despite how breathless she felt. The look he gave her made her toes curl.

He dropped his head to her clavicle, licking it slowly before sucking down on the skin. Her fingers went back to his hair, dragging her nails through his scalp. She placed her other palm flat on the wall beside her hip, needing it to keep her grounded. 

He finished her work, looking back up to face her, “That was for the scratches you left on my shoulder.” He reminded her, sliding a hand down from her waist. “This.” His voice dripped into her ear, his hot breath fanning her earlobe. He smacked her ass lightly, playfully. Still her eyes went wide, not expecting that. “Is for being a brat.” He kissed the corner of her lips.

“You’re going to make me lose my mind.” She breathed out, laughing at her own confession.

“Good.” His finger traced lightly against the skin of her thigh, “Then we’ll be on the same boat.” He pushed back, giving her a kiss on her temples. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room. I promised Joohyun I would.” His voice shifted back to it’s friendly ease effortlessly. 

When she woke up the next morning, her head throbbed. But the cold sweat on the back of her neck and the uncomfortable heat between her legs let her know what she dreamed about. She realised that she had been woken up, looking up to see Joohyun standing over her bed. Her arms crossed like she was disappointed in her. (Y/N) thought about last night, rubbing her face with her palm. Joohyun was justified in her disappointment.

“Please tell me you didn’t do anything you would regret under the sun.” Joohyun pushed the covers off her.

“No.” She croaked, pausing and then reforming her statement. “Nothing I wouldn’t do sober.” She smirked to herself at that. Joohyun let out a snort, closing her eyes and turning away, trying to curb her smile.

“Come on.” She poked her shoulder, “I’m not letting you skip breakfast.” (Y/N) whined but obeyed, getting out of bed.

Day 5

Joohyun and her walked to the restaurant together, the others already there according to Joohyun. They had turned a corner when they heard a voice call her name out. They both looked right to find Mark waving, Johnny walking beside him. He had his hands in his pocket, wearing a white t-shirt with simple terracotta shorts.

It occurred to (Y/N) that while she didn't believe in perfection, Johnny Suh was probably the closest anyone could come to it. 

"I didn't see you all day yesterday!" Mark commented as they came closer, her eyes drifting to Johnny at the remark. He looked at her like he was fine with letting her answer that all by herself.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Was all she could bring herself to say. 

When they finally reached, Johnny came up in front of her with an evil glint in his eyes that didn't match the soft smile on his face. She was only just raising a suspicious eyebrow at him when he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. 

She stood frozen for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest and her face turning hot, both of which she was sure he could feel. Her hands came up to his chest and she hesitated for a second, dangerously tempted to pull him close. He smelled faintly like a different cologne, like bitter oranges and spice— a signature that would now arouse her simply from association. Instead, she pushed him gently. He moved back without any resistance, a pout forming on his lips.

"What are you doing?" Her voice sounded like something between a whimper and sheer horror.

"Kissing you." He said the words like it was something he did all the time and she was the one who was weird for asking. It also made butterflies erupt in her stomach because he gave her a soft smile while he said it.

He started to lean back again when she pushed back, bending her back to get her face away from him. From the corner of her eye she could see Joohyun and Mark, frozen in place and watching them.

"What's gotten into you?" She glared at him. Embarrassed and incredibly turned on by his brazen claim.

"What?" He pouted. "You promised last night, remember? He tightened his arm on her waist, pushing a strand of hair that fell out of her hasty ponytail behind her ear. "You said you'd kiss me when you're sober tomorrow. That's why we–" With a teasing smirk growing on his lips, he started to remind her. She quickly reached up to put her hand on his mouth.

"Okay," She hissed, "Okay." She levelled her voice, "You've made your point. Now stop." She begged, wriggling in his hold but he made no move to budge, his eyes turning up in glee. When she let go of his mouth he whined; the three of them looked at him like he was insane.

"But you promised." He huffed.

"Maybe we should go?" Mark turned to Joohyun who gave him a quick nod.

"No!" She snapped at them, "We're also going. Johnny's just being exasperating." She turned back to give him a glare.

"You seem to like it." He repeated the words she said to him last night, making her cheeks feel impossibly hot. He let go of his hold on her waist after that, tucking his hands back into his pocket. She moved away from him immediately, straightening herself and avoiding eye contact with the two people who were witness to his retribution.

"Breakfast." She reminded them and more importantly herself, "I'm not in the mood to be messed with before I drink my morning cup of coffee." She mumbled, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards their destination forcefully.

"Can I mess you up after it then?" His choice of words were deliberate. She took a sharp inhale, ignoring him completely.

Johnny slipped his fingers through hers at some point during the rest of the short walk. She tried not to think too much about it, but her heart pounded against her chest anyway. He was pulling her towards the coffee machine predictably when a voice called out to her. She turned to see Sooyoung’s mom beckon her over. She turned around to Johnny rather apologetically, not wanting to let go of his hand. 

She felt sick with infatuation. 

He looked up at Sooyoung’s mom, before back at her. “Sit with me today?” He questioned and she gave him a nod, a smile spreading on her lips. He let go with a satisfied nod, letting her hand go, she slowly walked away to Sooyoung’s parents.

“It’s been so long.” Mrs. Park hugged (Y/N). “Sooyoung is always bragging about you to us.” She laughed, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length. “You’ve grown into a beautiful, independent woman, (Y/N).” Something about that made (Y/N)’s lips quiver.

Mrs. Park was a special person to (Y/N). She never doted over Sooyoung for how beautiful she was— and Sooyoung was, by all accounts, stunning. Instead she raised her daughter to be opinionated and strong-willed. When (Y/N) first met Mrs. Park, the woman took it upon herself to impart the same wisdom on her. Whenever (Y/N) was at their house, she was no different from her daughters and through the years, Mr. and Mrs. Park had become like her parents. The compliment coming from Mrs. Park felt like she had finally made it in life. She hugged her again.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to visit. I missed you.” Her voice wavered and Mrs. Park laughed and patted her back.

“Sooyoung calls you our little busy body.” She laughed, patting her head with motherly affection. “Come home and I’ll feed you okay? You look like you need to take better care of yourself.” She looked down at her, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Look at the bags under your eyes.” She cooed.

(Y/N) scoffed gently, “You and mom would have a field trip if you came together.” Her words made Mrs. Park laugh.

“I haven’t seen her in so long as well, wow!” She paused, “You kids really grew up.” She said wistfully.

“I insisted that she travel a little. With us siblings occupied with work, she’s bound to be lonely by herself. She’s currently in Australia visiting a friend, nearby actually.” She laughed.

“Does she visit you?” Mrs. Park asked.

“Sometimes, yeah. I feel bad about her flying all the way just to spend most of the time in the apartment by herself. She doesn’t even know anybody in New York.” She smiled, trying to mask her sadness at her own words. It was fine, she told herself. She grew up wanting what she had now, the consequences were just a part of that.

“Come visit okay? Take some days off once in a while. I’m a shorter flight away.” She scolded her and she nodded with a laugh. “Go eat now! That man has been waiting for you all this time!” She laughed pushing her. (Y/N) turned away, giving her hand a final squeeze.

Johnny was waiting for her like Mrs. Park said. Leaning against a pillar and watching her carefully.

“Are you okay?” His voice was laced with concern, forehead creased. Something stirred deep inside her chest.

“Yeah.” She felt her lips grow into a smile, “I think I really am.” It was a rare instance where the words felt true.

He gave her a questioning look but didn’t press, “Let’s eat?” She nodded.

They were all walking back towards their rooms together when Haechan spoke up.

“Let’s go to the beach, you guys! The wedding's the day after and we’re yet to take a dip in the sea!” He whined, pulling Mark’s arm.

“Don’t you dare.” Doyoung glared, “If any of you get sick, Sooyoung will pop a vein. The whole thing was too meticulously planned.” Sooyoung looked at Doyoung, looking like she didn’t know whether to be offended or proud.

“Fine. We’ll just go and walk on the beach. Come on!” He pushed, “I had a whole scenario in mind when I heard you were having a beach wedding. So far I’ve had a slice of pineapple and that’s it.” He groaned.

“Fine.” Doyoung huffed. Haechan gave him a thumbs up.

It was too hot this early in the day, suddenly nobody liked the idea of being on the beach anymore. Haechan insisted on standing at the edge of the water, clearly flushing from the heat but pretending he was enjoying himself for the sake of his pride. The rest of them found spots of shade to shield themselves. At some point, Haechan managed to drag Mark and currently chased him around the hot sand.

“Johnny!” Haechan shouted across the beach at some point. Johnny lifted his head from the lounging chair he was lying on to look at the boy, moving his sunglasses up to his head. “Help me drag Mark into the water!” He said with a loud giggle, the corner of Johnny’s lips tugged.

“Why would I do that?” He shouted back.

“Because it’s fun to tease Mark.” Haechan replied. Johnny sat up with a laugh, giving into that. Mark looked over, shaking his head at Johnny.

“Why are you bothering the poor boy.” She told Johnny off.

“Just a little bit.” Johnny winked, making her laugh.

He caught up to Mark easily, yet instead of picking him up, he stopped in front of Haechan with a grin, lifting him up and walking towards the sea. Haechan’s shrieks were a mix of horror and surprised delight as he beat his fists on Johnny’s back, the action not seeming to make a difference. As they just about reached the edge, Johnny swung him once before placing him back on his feet. Haechan gave Johnny a surprised hug like he saved his life making Johnny laugh and ruffle his hair.

He came back with an easy smile on his lips, perching his sunglasses back on his eyes. Lying back down on the chair and putting his arms behind his head, he took a deep sigh. “I could get used to this.” He mostly spoke to himself.

She turned to him, staring at his profile. The sun illuminated his face below the nose, the rest covered by the large umbrella above them. She traced her eyes on his chin, his lips illuminated under the soft rays of the sun.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice came out a sleepy murmur. He shifted, turning to face her, taking the shades off his eyes and putting an arm under his head. 

She gave him a hum, shifting to mirror his posture.

“Do you ever feel lonely?” His voice was soft.

“Of course.” She smiled, “Everyone does.” She sighed herself. His leisure influencing her too.

“What do you do when you do?” He questioned.

“I call my friends, ask them about their day.” He shifted closer on his chair, “We video call each other, complaining about work and life.” She smiled affectionately.

“That sounds nice.” He hummed softly, “There’s a comfort in knowing your struggles are understood. More than your achievements sometimes. Though,” He paused, a breathy chuckle coming from him, “That’s also its own kind of nice.” He admitted, making her chuckle too.

A figure approached, blocking the sun and making them turn. Yuta stood with Ten beside him.

“We have to go, dude. The bachelor party still needs execution.” Yuta flung his arm at Johnny’s back. Johnny turned over, squinting when the sun fell on his eyes. After a moment he sighed, sitting up and giving him a nod.

“How cute. They have matching hickeys.” Yuta jabbed his elbow at Ten’s ribs, making him wince first and look later.

“She has two.” Ten smiled, “Johnny my bro!” Ten sniggered.

“We’re leaving.” Johnny warned them, whatever look he turned to give them making them stop. He turned back to her, a lazy smile on his face. “I’ll see you tonight.” He promised, “Don’t pay attention to them.” He pointed to his friends, “This is how we treat people we’re close to.”

Johnny sucked in his lower lip, grazing his teeth over it before he opened his mouth again, “And.” He put his shades back on his nose, “Don’t drink.” A smile danced at the edge of his lips.

It was Doyoung’s idea to have their respective bachelor parties before dinner. He needed his sleep, he had told Sooyoung. When he reminded her that she would get dark circles, she conceded.

As they were sitting at the table for dinner, (Y/N) could tell that both of them were regretting that decision. They sat side by side, clearly still drunk out of their minds— their cheeks flushed and eyes heavy. Both of them kept their eyes glued to the table, furrowed in concentration. She bit back a laugh. She glanced around the table. Most of the boys and, even her friends, all in various stages in intoxication. A gentle pout formed on her lips. While she did thoroughly enjoy the afternoon watching her friend’s antics, she felt a little left out suddenly. 

As she scanned across the table, her eyes met Johnny’s. To his credit, he looked sober too. She raised her glass of water with a mocking smile, watching his lips part for a laugh. He raised his too, as if to reaffirm that they were together in their sobriety. She looked away from him, pleased with the idea.

Taeyong, Doyoung’s best man, expertly forfeited his speech by claiming that he would rather give time to anybody else since he has one for the wedding day. The way he spoke slowly to avoid tangling his words together told her that was only half of the reason.

Jungwoo swayed so clearly in his seat that Sooyoung’s dad flashed him a concerned glance. When he looked up to give him a thumbs up, it did the opposite of reassure him. Suddenly, she wasn’t feeling too bad about being sober anymore. 

They caught each other’s eyes a few more times during the meal. 

At some point, Mark even convinced Johnny to give a little speech. Johnny spoke about the time Doyoung flew down to New York without hesitation because Johnny admitted to him that his new apartment felt isolating. Doyoung came, helped Johnny pick out furniture that felt comfortable and baked cookies so the apartment would feel more homely. Johnny assured the crowd that in a weekend's time, the place did feel like home because he had memories in them. 

Doyoung looked embarrassed, but looked at Johnny with love in his eyes. Mark added that Doyoung made better cookies than his mom, but his mom wasn’t a good baker anyway. The crowd laughed and Doyoung wiped a tear away quickly.

When Johnny came back, Doyoung got up to give him a hug— burying his face in his chest and making Johnny pat his back affectionately. The whole ordeal left her feeling warm and soft in a way that felt new.

It had been more than an hour, she somehow ended up in a corner listening to Jungwoo’s unsolicited opinion on the possibility of alien life when she saw Johnny walking towards them. Jungwoo clicked his fingers in front of her eyes to get her attention, leaning further on his chair.

“If you think about it. Like really think about it.” Jungwoo whispered, shushing her mid sentence even though she was silent the whole time. “They’re just waiting for us to get technologically advanced enough to fight in a war with them.” He concentrated on the floor.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to attack before we get there?” Despite herself, she indulged him. Too infuriated by the flaw in logic to not question it.

Jungwoo pondered over the words for a second before shaking his head, “No I’m definitely the one making sense.” He wiggled his index finger in front of her face, “Syria, (Y/N). Think about what happened in Syria.” He urged as Johnny finally came and stood in front of them, peering down at Jungwoo.

“Save me.” She mouthed at Johnny, then not sure if he wouldn’t just to enjoy her suffering.

“You know, I think what he’s saying has its merits.” Johnny pointed the glass in his hand to Jungwoo. He brightened up at those words.

“See? Johnny knows space Syria is legit.” Jungwoo gloated. Johnny snorted to himself and she felt tired, just humming at the drunk boy.

“Want to take a walk with me on the beach?” Johnny asked her after a moment. At first, she thought she would refuse just to spite him.

“And don’t even get me started on Y2K–” Jungwoo began. She stood up.

“Yes beach.” She said too eagerly, before something occurred to her. She turned back to the very drunk Jungwoo with concern.

“I can ask Taeil to drop him back to his room, if you want. He told me he’s going to leave anyway.” Johnny offered and she gave him a very grateful smile.

After they found Taeil, he helped Jungwoo out and reassured he’d get the drunk fool back to his room. Johnny led her out of the banquet hall. They passed the corridor they were in the day before, both of their eyes lingering on the wall.

When they got on the elevator, she felt her cheeks heat up. There was a moment's pause before Johnny burst out laughing, she was compelled to join in.

"You know why I was in the basement the other day?" He questioned with an indulgent grin. She looked up at him, still a little flustered and not yet willing to speak.

"I was the only one who could drive here. So I got the boys pizza." He snorted, "I was so close to saying no." He ran his fingers through his hair, a smile forming on his lips. "I was on a flight for 20 hours with a 5 hour layover after a whole day's work. I was tempted to just order them room service so I could sleep." He fell into some thought, spacing out slightly.

"Oh." She said when the silence dragged for a moment.

"Taeil and Haechan begged. To think that I was so close to missing the way we met." He snorted.

"We would have still met, I mean our best friends are getting married." She didn't know why her voice sounded so intimate. Johnny laced his fingers through hers, watching as he toyed with the digits.

"Yeah." He looked up, "But that's a better story to have, isn't it?" Glee gleamed in his eyes.

Johnny took a few steps closer, "Plus," His eyes traced her face. "How else would I have known how impossibly cute you are when you're flustered?" He clicked his tongue. "I'll have to get Taeil and Haechan pizza anytime they ask now." He lamented.

"Because you now have an elaborate scheme to meet more women?" She laughed. 

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her palm and making her breathing shallow again. "To thank them. I don't think I'd have the balls to pursue you otherwise." He hummed against her palm.

She scoffed, "Right." She lifted a brow at him.

"See? When you do that you look like you'd break my knees if I bothered you. It's kind of hot." He hummed against her wrist.

"You spoke to me at breakfast!" She tried to counter, her voice meek.

"And you looked like you were in no mood to engage in conversation. You rushed away too." He tugged her arm to pull her closer, pouting his lips. "I was a little intimidated." He mumbled, moving his hands to her hips.

She felt a little dumbstruck. 

Johnny. The Johnny that stood in front of her right now with his dark hair tossed over; in a suit that fitted so well that it had to be custom tailored. The Johnny who currently towered over her frame and looked at her with eyes that bore into hers. This Johnny was intimidated by her?

"Don't be ridiculous." She sounded dazed, before a perplexed laugh came from her lips. "You're just teasing."

"I swear it." He smiled, coming closer to kiss her temples. "When you realised I was the same person from the elevator, you looked so flustered." He chuckled against her ear. "I thought to myself, 'I'd risk getting my knees kicked in just to get a few words in with you'. I was really hoping my charms would work." She lifted her neck as lips went towards her throat. Her mind was foggy while she tried to process everything he just said.

The elevator dinged as it reached the main floor. Reluctantly Johnny let her go, keeping her hand in hers as they walked over to the beach.

"So you really can't think of anything that you would like as a romantic gesture?" Johnny craned his neck towards her, his elbows dug into the towel they picked up at the pool as he propped his upper body up on them, leaving a dent in the sand.

She shook her head at him again, resting her head on her knees. Johnny looked up at the sky, chewing his lips trying to think of something.

"Flowers?"

She wrinkled her nose, "I dislike the concept of giving or buying flowers." At this Johnny sat up further, his eyes furrowed in confusion.

"Why?" His bewildered tone made her smile.

"It seems like a waste to me. Cutting beautiful flowers just so you can bring them home and display it." She thought about it, "To me it says, 'Have this tender thing that I essentially killed for you!’.” She frowned, “Not flowers." She confirmed.

"Damn." Johnny said softly, "You have a point." To that she laughed.

"What about gifts?" He tried.

"I can buy anything I want by myself."

Johnny whined, "That's not the point, (Y/N). It's a gesture, it says: 'I thought of you when I saw this.' or, 'I want you to think of me when you see this'." He held his hands out like he was holding something in them.

"Okay." She conceded, "I guess it depends on the intentions but when you say it like that it sounds kind of nice." She shrugged.

Johnny lay back down on the towel again, laughing in the disjointed way he did when he found something genuinely delightful. 

She smacked his chest, "Don't laugh at me." She mumbled.

"I'm not laughing at you." He rolled over to face her, putting his palm under his head.

"Then?"

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip for a second, "You aren't a romantic, are you?" He didn't sound accusatory, merely curious. She thought about that, coming short of an answer. 

"I don't know actually." She looked up at the moon, "I've never really thought about it."

"How are you like in a relationship?" He readjusted his arm again, bringing the forearm down to rest in front of him and propping himself on a single elbow, toying with his other hand.

She hesitated for a moment, the sound of the waves crashing on the sand and the whistle of the sea breeze in her ears. Her hair tossed in the wind and she took a deep breath. If it was someone else she would have dodged the question. She looked back towards Johnny, patiently watching. Johnny, who was patient and considerate. To the point where she felt so comfortable around him that it felt strange to think that till a week ago she didn't know who he was.

Her eyes drifted away from his, looking over to a hole in the sand— one that a crab had burrowed into it. 

"I've dated twice in my entire life." She breathed out. She thought about the creature that lay somewhere under the warm sand, snug in its shell and lonely in it's comfortable burrow. "Both times were short. More curiosity about how it would feel rather than wanting to be with the person." When she turned her eyes back to Johnny he was watching her with a deeply contemplative face.

She looked back at the horizon where the sea seemed to meet the sky, the line currently blurred in the dark.

"The first time I was young and stupid. He wasn't unkind, he was just the first person who ever asked me out. It was before university and I went for it." Her eyes drifted up the horizon, the sea turning into an ocean of stars. "A month later he told me he wanted to be with me even when we went to Universities on opposite sides of the country." She took a shaky breath, "In hindsight, I was cruel. But I freaked out and just left without saying anything." She took another long breath, finally turning to look at him. 

Johnny still didn't say anything, still looking at her with those same eyes.

She willed herself on, "I had my life ahead of me, you know? I wanted to see things, see the world." She laughed at the words, thinking about her old self— naive and hopeful. "I didn't want to go off to University already committed to a guy that I hardly knew. A guy I didn't even like." She took another breath.

Her eyes drifted back to the waves again, the moonlight making the sea foam look like it was glowing. She sighed. She had started now, she might as well finish.

"I ended up not dating the rest of University." She shrugged, "I realised that I didn't even like casual sex." She paused, turning to him quickly. "That isn't to say that I have a problem with it. It's just not something that worked for me." Johnny finally gave her a nod, the small reassuring smile on his lips making her feel like she could finally breathe. "I did a lot of stupid shit that I regret now." She groaned, pushing her hair back from her face.

"You were young." He mumbled. Hearing his voice after the long silence felt a little jarring. "We all did stupid shit when we were young. That's what it's about anyway." He shifted again, sitting up and crossing his legs, "Trial and error." He said thoughtfully, his eyes roaming her face.

"So." She sighed, "I didn't date anyone after that. I didn't care about it anyway, I wanted to be someone more than be with someone." She paused, laughing. "That sounds so stupid when I say it out loud." She scoffed.

"No." Johnny spoke, eyes furrowed. "That's one of the most important things I've heard anybody say." He looked resolute. "Being someone is the most important thing we can do. It’s why we have this head,” He tapped against his, “With its desires and opinions and voice." She looked at him as he spoke, putting something she could not really pin down, into words. Tangible, with nowhere to hide from them. "It's important to be someone real, not just what you think you are for people." His voice dropped low, like he was afraid of breaking something.

"Yes." She breathed out, "When you know who you are, you can allow yourself to be understood." Johnny smiled at that.

A tender silence fell between them, one of contemplation. The waves came close as the tide rose. She released her knees to sit back, feeling cramped from the position. She sighed, relaxing into the night.

"And the second?" Johnny asked after a while. She turned to him, the context lost on her. "The second guy you dated." He clarified. Her eyes lit up with the epiphany before she looked back down, tracing the geometric patterns on the towel under them with her eyes.

"It was someone I met when I had only just started working." She picked at the piece of lint that disrupted the flow of the patterns. "It was fine till he thought I never had time for him." She smiled sadly to herself, looking back up at Johnny once she pulled the thread out. "I didn't mind when he broke it off. There was nothing I could do. He wanted a girl who would take care of him— I hardly take care of myself most of the time. We just weren't a good match." She didn't feel regretful.

"How long ago was that?" He tried to sound casual, she knew that. But the anxiety in his eyes gave him away.

"Four years." She didn't hesitate.

"You haven't been with someone for four years?" He coughed the moment he realised that he sounded too shocked. She smiled at his careful efforts.

"No." She shrugged, "I let myself get busy with work. I found myself enjoying a walk in the park by myself or a late night movie alone. It was little things at first, and then I realised." She gave him a smile, "I genuinely enjoy my own company." She chuckled as the long held thought manifested into words.

"That life sounds good." He chuckled. Johnny looked down at the towel, finding his own piece of lint to fiddle with.

"It is." She assured him. She paused, taking a breath as a thought that had been scratching against the edges of her mind inched closer.

Her eyes fluttered over his features; the full pucker of his lips, the soft curve high curve of his nose. He focused on the way his hair rested on his forehead and his eyelashes framed his lids, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes stayed on the towel.

She thought about the red tie he wore at dinner and the way he kissed her in front of both their friends just to prove a point. She remembered the way he smiled at his friends, and the way he playfully teased Mark. She pictured him, alone in a new apartment for the first time, wanting home

She took a small breath, something clicking into place inside her, "And then I met you." Johnny stopped fidgeting with the towel, looking up with a look so vulnerable that a conditioned panic rose up her throat. She quelled it, deciding that she didn't need the reflex. "And I think for the first time I realised that life could also be content." Her breathing picked up, the vulnerability she suddenly felt no doubt reflected in her eyes. "And I think I also just found an answer to your question." A smile played on her lips. 

He furrowed his brows at her, tilting his head like he didn't know what she was talking about. 

"I like gestures." Her lips grew wider, "I want someone to show how they feel about me. I find action romantic." She paused again, closing her eyes and ignoring the burn on her cheeks as she spoke the next sentence, "Gestures that would seemingly go unnoticed, small acts that aren't meant to prove anything other than just being." She raised her palm, gently touching his face, "That's what swept me off my feet."

She finished her confession, waiting for him to say something. Johnny searched her eyes, still looking for something.

"You haven't been with anyone in four years." He assessed the words, "You've only been with two people in your entire life." He repeated her words. 

She gave him a nervous nod, unsure of where this was going. After the high of her confession started to fade, she realised that there was a possibility that he didn't want all the things she did.

"Do you want to be with me?" His eyebrows knit to impossibly close together.

She tried to hide her nerves with a jab, "I was sure I was speaking to you just now." She joked. Johnny put a finger under her chin, lifting it and staring at her with a serious expression.

"(Y/N). He pleaded softly.

"Without a shadow of a doubt." She felt a weight lift off her chest when Johnny's eyes finally lit up.

"I will cherish this like the privilege it is." He promised, "Cherish you." He pulled in closer, finally kissing her. She put her palm on his chest and pushed gently, Johnny sat back willingly. He wrapped his arms under her knees, bringing her closer to him. He kept his hands in place as she slowly explored his body with her hands. He kept still as she explored his mouth with her tongue.

With a slowly building resolution, she brought her fingers up to his neck, tugging him to her, trying to get that much closer. He finally moved his hands, grabbing her waist and pulling her into his. She sighed in relief, surrounded by his warmth and scent. Her hand slipped to his shoulder, pulling him closer. His chest pressing against hers as she pressed her tongue against his. Her other hand landed on his thigh and when she dragged her nails on the trousers his hips bucked up. She smiled against his lips, feeling victorious she ground her hips into his. She heard him groan, his arms moving up her waist. She did it again. He slipped his arms to her thighs, before stroking back up again— silent encouragement. 

She sat up a little further, arching her back till she was impossibly close to him. Her fingers went into his hair for leverage and she rolled her hips again. Johnny pulled back from the kiss with a stutter.

“(Y/N).” He growled his warning, she took the chance to kiss down his jaw. He raised his head to give her access, groaning. “I’m going to cum into my pants like a teenager.” He tried to warn her off. A soft whine left her lips the moment she thought about that, only rolling her hips with more purpose. Johnny laughed, a deep throaty laugh that made his adam’s apple bob as her lips brushed against it. She licked the skin gently. When he said her name then, it was a defeated whine.

He was so hot like this. So hot that it felt like she wouldn’t be able to stop even if she wanted. She slipped a hand down his chest, brushing it against the strained bulge in his pants. He grabbed her wrist, making her laugh softly against his shoulder blade.

“Please.” She whispered, his fingers loosened their grip but stayed around her wrist. She lay her palm flat on his cock, rubbing it up and down. He let her hand go with a defeated huff, putting both his hands behind him to lean back. She watched his face, the anguished crease of his forehead, the way his lips parted and then closed when he swallowed, his eyes squeezed shut. 

She slowed down her pace. Johnny opened his eyes to look down at her. Despite the situation, it was her breathing that picked up under his gaze.

“Do you want to cum?” She asked him, she felt him twitch under her palm. For a second he didn’t respond, only watching her with those eyes— like he would devour her if given the opportunity. Both their rapid breaths became the only sound between them, he raised a brow at her. She bit down on her lower lip. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t move. All he did was watch her, waiting. 

Finally she took the liberty, moving her hand again. He inhaled sharply, eyes fixed on her. She increased her pace.

He threw his head back after a moment, his throat bobbing, “(Y/N), fuck.” He groaned as his hips bucked again, his cock twitching. Then she felt it, the spreading heat.

“You came in your pants.” Her voice was a mix of surprise and pride. He sat back, his eyes impossibly dark, his brows still furrowed. He grabbed the back to her neck, bringing his lips to hers. He devoured her like his eyes had promised, kissing her with fervent urgency.

He pulled away too soon, getting up from the ground. She watched as he adjusted his pants, his jaw setting hard when his fingers brushed against the wet patch on the front of his pants. He gave her his hand after he finished, hoisting her up.

“I’m going to return the favour.” He warned, “Let’s go.” He pulled her away.

Johnny tapped his index finger against the reception desk, the pace of it increasing with each passing moment. She felt apologetic towards the man who stood on the other side of the desk, staring at the computer screen in front of him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” He looked up, repeated exactly what he said moments ago. “All our rooms are booked up. Between the wedding and seasonal crowds, there is nothing. I can’t even see rooms that are currently on hold.” His voice was of professional regret.

Johnny ran his fingers through his hair, the frown on his features growing. She felt herself rub her thighs together.

“You don’t have a single empty room in this entire place?” He was trying to be polite, she knew that. He kept his voice leveled and tried to sound more like he was coaxing than demanding. But the frustration that was all over his face was justifiably intimidating. The man tapped his pen against a notepad.

“We have the pool villas on the other side of the property–” He started.

“I’ll take it.” Johnny reached for his pocket, taking his wallet out.

“Wait,” She tugged his arm, “This isn’t necessary. Johnny.” She felt the guilt rack over her. He gave her the smallest smirk.

“Don’t back off now. You started this.” He exhaled through his teeth, handing the card to the man behind the desk with his eyes on her.

A thought occurred to him, making him turn back to the man at the front desk, “Just make sure it’s as far away from the one booked for the wedding couple.” Johnny gave the guy a meaningful look. He nodded at him, a smile forming on his lips when he turned to swipe the card.

The walk was an excruciatingly long one. They took the beach to keep the route as swift as possible. (Y/N) held her heels in her hand and his jacket around her shoulders. Despite her insistence that she couldn’t possibly feel cold by the beach, he wrapped her in it anyway, a smirk on his lips. It currently brushed against her thigh, somehow longer than her dress.

“I can’t believe you did that.” She groaned when she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “An entire villa.” She groaned again.

“Do you want this?” He stopped walking suddenly, turning to her with soft eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I’m fine with just talking to you, I love talking to you. I know you haven’t had sex in a while. Don’t feel like you have to because of this.” He shook the keycard in front of him.

“Of course I want to do this.” She spoke before he finished. “Have I not made that abundantly obvious?”

“Then don’t worry about the place, it doesn’t mean anything.” He reassured her, turning to start walking again.

“I just feel like I forced you into this.” She grimaced. He took her hand in his squeezing like he was silently telling her off for thinking that.

“If I don’t fuck you right now I’m going to go crazy.” He said it casually, missing her hitched inhale, “I know you feel the same. Kneading into me on the beach under the open skies. I told you, don’t back out now.” He turned to burn his heated gaze into her, “I’ve spent days losing sleep over imagining how you look naked under me. I just didn’t want to do it anywhere. You deserve better than that.”

A tortured noise came from her throat, reluctantly she let the matter of the villa go. It was the most reckless and illogical thing he could do. But everything about this week felt so quixotic that this might as well have happened too.

Her heart started picking up when Johnny pulled into the steps of one of the villas on the row of them that stretched across the beach, walking up the stairs with her hand still firmly in his. The door beeped when he tapped the card on the handle and then they were inside a dark room that looked too big. She dropped her heels on the floor. Johnny flicked a light switch by the door, illuminating the entrance. 

Stairs went up a few feet in front of them, the seating area in front of them leading to french doors on the other side that spanned the entire expanse of the back wall. 

Johnny leaned down to brush his lips against her temples, her eyes fluttering shut. "How about a dip in the pool?" His voice was liquid velvet. At his words, she noticed the reflection of a pool outside the glass. She wanted to say no, pull him upstairs instead. "Ever since I saw you swimming the other day, I haven't been able to get the image of it out of my mind." He chuckled into her hair.

She turned to him, "You have very specific fantasies." She noted mockingly.

"I like to think of it as an extension of knowing exactly what I want." His fingers slid down hers, "Plus," His lips brushed over her eyes. "I promised, remember? When I finally get the chance, I would take my time with you. I promised to be slow and agonising." His other hand pushed her hair back, light fingers skimming against her shoulder and making her shiver.

"Johnny." She whined in protest, earning a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"You have some much needed retribution in store." The words filled her with dread and anticipation.

"Can't you just punish me later?" She gave him wide eyes and a soft pout.

"You think that helps your cause.” He chuckled, “But you're only making things worse for yourself." He warned, "You made me ruin my suit." He reprimanded.

"You seemed to like it." She mumbled, looking down at the floor. 

He slipped a finger on her chin, making her look up at him, "And you will like what I am going to do to you as well." He coaxed, a look of devious vow in his eyes.

Then his eyes turned darker, furrowing his brows. "So take off your dress. Let's go enjoy the most of this place I was forced to take because of your lack of self control." 

"You told me not to worry about that!" She smacked his shoulder in indignation, making him laugh.

"You don't need to worry about it. You just need to know that you willingly pushed me off the edge of my self control." He wrapped his arm around her waist and he walked away, guiding her to the doors on the opposite side of the building.

Johnny took off his suit slower than she’d like, in retaliation she didn’t touch her dress till he was done. She watched intently the whole time, watching as he took off his tie; then very slowly unbuttoned his shirt— something she urged to do herself. She dug her feet in place instead, eyes tracing his chest. She had seen his arms before, felt his chest under her palm a few times, she knew she was well built. But, as he peeled the shirt off his shoulder, nothing she could picture in her head could do justice to the man who stood in front of her. She swallowed, realising after that, yes, she was literally drooling while staring at his body. 

After he took the shirt off, he looked up to her face. She snapped her eyes up to his face like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Amusement danced in Johnny’s eyes but he didn’t speak. She kept her eyes fixed on his face as she heard the rattle of his belt. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, pulling out every inch of free will she had to keep her eyes in place as his pants fell to the floor. He stepped out of them, keeping his gaze fixed in hers as well. Then he frowned, bending down to pick up his pants.

 He neatly placed his clothes on a chair, pointing an accusatory finger at her clothed body after. “Why is that still on you?” His voice brushed against her skin even from the distance.

She willed herself to keep her eyes glued to his face. “I’m considering your constructive criticism. Trying to exercise more self control.” She kept her voice surprisingly steady, metally patting herself on the back.

“Oh?” He stepped closer to her, “And you think now is the time for you to learn that?” He tilted his head, his gait predatory.

She raised her chin in defiance, giving him a nod.

“Where was this self control when you had my fingers deep inside you in a car on the highway, hmm? Or when you needed me to kiss you right outside a gathering of people we both know?” He came and stood in front of her, brushing his fingers where her dress met her thighs. She focused on the wild look in his eyes, trying to ignore the chill his fingers sent down her spine.

“I told you,” Her voice came out throaty. “I’m learning.” Johnny smirked.

“Alright.” He hummed, pushing her arms up. She didn’t resist. She didn’t resist when he peeled her dress off either. She tried to ignore the heat that rose up from her chest to her face when he looked at her body, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands. Johnny took his time drinking in her frame. She bit her lip. When he looked up, his eyes looked bored. “We’ll see how long it lasts, hmm baby?” Her toes curled at the purr in his voice.

“I want to kiss you.” Johnny said from the other side of the pool. She hummed. He narrowed his eyes, “Come here.” He wasn’t asking. She moved across the water, her bra sticking uncomfortably to her chest. He pulled her close to him, “Do you want me to touch you?” She hummed again. He held her chin in his hands, “Words.” His voice licked up her spine.

“Yes.” She breathed out.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.” 

Johnny took a sharp breath, tongue running across his lips. Her eyes drifted to the movement, looking back up seconds later.

“But?” He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her intention.

She smirked, “I won’t touch you. Not till you ask.”

“Wretched girl.” He gave her a wicked smile, “Where have you been all my life?” He sighed, reaching his lips down to her neck. He licked a strip up her neck and she gasped out loud, her head falling back. He looked back to grin at her, before turning her around and going back to her neck. She rested her head back against his chest, jumping with a yelp when he grazed his teeth on the skin behind her neck. She felt him smile against her skin.

“As someone who claimed that time is their luxury, you sure are generous with it.” She winched when he bit down on her shoulder, soothing the skin with his tongue.

“I’m a very generous person.” He whispered, brushing his tongue on the shell of her ear.

She hummed, “So I see. Though I wish you were more generous about certain things over others.” He bit her earlobe, she mewled.

“I thought you wanted to learn self control?” He kissed behind her ear.

“Yes, but you seem like a man thoroughly well read in the subject.” She whined, “You can be exempt from this lesson.” She tried to keep up with his words while his mouth kept up its persistence.

“I would prefer to lead by example.” He bit the back of her neck, she clenched impossibly hard.

“And I would prefer you inside me.” She groaned. He laughed into her hair, kissing her spine lazily. 

She pulled away from him with a frown, turning to look at him, “Johnny Suh, I swear to god!” She huffed, he shifted to kiss her lips. She huffed against his lips, both annoyed and aroused by his incessant antics. He was seemingly an expert at it, bringing her just to the brink of irritation before driving her wild with need. She kept her hands firmly at her side, the urge to touch him making her light-headed.

In the meantime, his hands touched her bare skin. Her back, stomach, waist. He brushed his fingers on her abdomen, where the elastic of her bra dug into her skin, the thing felt like a hindrance. 

He pulled away from the kiss, a pleased look in his eyes. “Not even a little graze. You’re a diligent student.” He lifted his now swollen lips. 

Anger flared inside her, only making her want him more. “You’re a dick.” She pulled away from him, but he touched her arm and drew her back till her back was on his chest again.

“You deserve a reward for your tenacity.” He put his hand flat on her stomach, circling around her navel with his thumb. 

Then he slowly took his hand lower.

Every nerve in her body fired up in anticipation. She shivered when his thumb grazed the skin just above the elastic of her underwear, she huffed. She felt his other hand sneak between them, unbuckling the clasp of her bra. She sighed very audibly when it slid down her arms, too busy feeling the relief of it’s removal to feel shy at the moment.

“This,” His voice barely a breath. His palm grazed one of her breasts. “I’ve been waiting to do for a while.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers, she bucked up closer to his touch. His other hand brushed over her underwear, she dropped her head back to his shoulder. He slipped his fingers in to graze a finger up her slit, then down— his touch featherlight. She felt like she could weep. He parted her folds, the cold water around them touching her warm clit, making her grasp and also reminding her where she was.

“Johnny.” She said through gritted teeth. “Please.” Her voice dissolved into a moan when he pressed his finger against her clit hard.

Every nerve in her body felt like they had been lit on fire deliberately. He drew slow circles around the bundle of nerves. She lifted her hands instinctively, remembering her claim and putting it over her mouth instead.

“Touch me, (Y/N).” He whispered in her ear, the sound akin to a plea as he plunged a finger inside her. She didn’t have the sense to hesitate, threading her fingers through his hair.

She would have cum in moments, had he not been so distressingly slow. This slow, she felt every graze, every joint and every curl. When he added another finger, he remained loyal to his pace. The pressure between her legs felt unbearable.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned against her temples, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby. I’ll make your long wait worth it.” He parted his fingers inside her, opening and closing till she felt her walls ease under his efforts. “I’ll make sure you feel good.” He kissed her temple, his thumb pressing into her clit, flicking the hood with his blunt nails.

Her orgasm built up slowly, so slow that she felt every twitch and every muscle tightening. She moaned out his name and he connected his lips to her, rubbing a thumb on her nipple which the other continued it’s ministrations on her clit. All of that combined with his fingers pumping slowly inside her felt too much. She felt moisture prickle on the corner of her eyes— tears of relief as her legs shook and her orgasm crashing through her body in multiple waves. She squirmed in his hold, grabbing his wrist to make him stop. He obeyed, bringing both his hands to her waist, turning her back to face him.

“How do we feel?” His face one of concern, his eyes soft, all traces of the menace he was moments ago tucked away. She gave him a smile.

“Good.” She confirmed, “Great.” She sighed.

Johnny gazed at her face for a second, “You’re so beautiful.” He stated. His brazen ease leaving her cheeks hot.

“So are you.” She laughed to herself.

“I think I’m rather handsome actually.” He grinned, “And sexy.” He winked.

“So sexy.” She was compelled to agree, closing her eyes and knitting her brows. Like the idea was too much. Johnny grinned a little more.

“Want to go upstairs?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I genuinely thought you would never ask.” She frowned at him. He took her chin in his fingers to give her a chaste kiss, before lifting her in her arms.

“I can walk!” She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I am aware.” Was all he said as he got out of the water.

“So put me down!” She felt herself blush.

“No. I know you can walk, I want to carry you anyway. It’s for my benefit. I want to enjoy the view.” He winked. She groaned and put her hands on her face, burying it in his chest and mumbling something. “What was that?” His voice was cocky.

“You like embarrassing people. It’s a deplorable habit.” She lifted her head to repeat herself and then hid her face again. Johnny just laughed.

He dropped her on the bed, an eager grin on his face as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. He raked his eyes over her body, like he was trying to memorise her features.

“Can I eat you out?” When he looked back at her face, his playful grin was replaced with an intent gaze. Johnny sat down on his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. She sat up and scooted closer to the edge, placing her feet on the floor and giving him a meaningful look.

“Johnny.” She looked at him seriously, “Listen to me. You’re absolutely without a doubt the most considerate lover I’ve ever encountered.” She put her palm on his cheek, he nuzzled into the touch and she mirrored the content smile that spread on his lips. “You’re very sweet and very charming.” She rubbed her thumb on his cheek. “But, I swear to god.” She laughed, “If you don’t put your penis inside my vagina right now, I’m going to slap you silly.”

“Is that a promise?” He raised his brows, trying to tease despite the blood that rushed into his face.

“Johnny!”

He laughed, “Alright, alright. I’ll give you this considerate dick.” She groaned at the words, rolling her eyes. “But there’s something I want to ask you first.” His eyes moved away from her face to look around the room.

“What?” She swallowed.

“I have to be in Hong Kong after this trip. It’s part of the reason why I got the week off.” He paused, shaking his head. “That’s irrelevant.” He scoffed, running his hand through his hair and taking her hands into his. “I’ll be there for a month. But when I come back.” He paused, releasing a nervous exhale and looking at her with soft eyes, “I want to see you again. I want to take you to my favourite restaurant, and then I want you to see you some more.” They both blinked at each other, the silent contemplations of vulnerability.

Johnny sat back, “I was going to wait to say this. But I don’t think I can, I think I’m a little whipped for you. Especially when you tell me to put my penis into your vagina.” She shoved his shoulder, a sound coming from her lips that were a mix of a groan and a laugh. 

Johnny laughed too. “I told you,” He spoke after their giggles died down. “I want to court you. And I meant it.” He smiled at her.

“You’re such a romantic aren’t you?” She smiled, feeling somewhere between the hope and dread that she had heard came with real feelings for a person. “One condition.” She looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“If you make me walk up the Vessel I will leave you there.”

The smile he gave her made her shiver, “Deal.” He gave her a lopsided grin, pushing back from her.

He stood up, motioning her to go up to the pillows with his index finger. She complied with a victorious smile. He put his knees on the mattress, crawling up to cage her body. He looked down at her with a smirk, searching her face.

“Ready?” He murmured. She nodded shyly, the boldness from moments ago already dissipating under his gaze. “When I saw you at the gym the other day, the unsolicited thought that plagued me was what you’d look like under me.” He smiled down at her, his words making her heart pick up it’s pace. He dropped his arm to his elbow, using the other to hold her cheek and kiss her. It was a brief kiss, but one that felt so impossibly intimate that her toes curled and goosebumps erupted all over her skin.

He kissed down her neck, taking a nipple in between his lips as his finger looped around the edge of her underwear, her fingers combed into his soft hair. He dragged the piece of fabric down till her shin and she kicked it off. When his hips ground into hers she gasped his name. He shifted his focus to her other breast, grinding his hips into her again and making curse words stumble out her lips, she wanted him to take his off too. His fingers parted her folds, teasing her hole with his thumb. She fisted his hair, her back lifting off the mattress. He stopped suddenly, pulling away and sitting back on his knees. She was already forming her annoyed response when he spoke.

“I need to go get my wallet.” He spoke like he remembered something. 

She sat up with an incredulous expression, both their faces flushed and breathing shallow. “What?” He breathed out, a little too dazed to keep up with him.

“I took condoms from the gift bag we gave Doyoung today. They’re in my wallet.” He ran his hands through his hair, still breathing fast.

“Oh.” She blushed, “Go.”

She sat in silence for a second, the air conditioning making her skin prickle. As her breathing calmed down, a smile spread across her face, then a soft laugh. There was something so incredibly thrilling and comfortable at the same time about Johnny. She remembered his face when he realised he didn’t have his wallet, covering her mouth to muffle her laugh.

When she heard footsteps come up the stairs she bit down on her lips too hard.

“What’s so funny?” He walked into the room, wearing just his briefs and looking so utterly irresistible.

“You.” Her laugh escaped her lips.

“I don’t know how to feel about you laughing at me while we stand here, very naked.” Even while he joked, his eyes explored her body with hunger.

“You aren’t naked yet.” She pointed at the piece of clothing that had overstayed its welcome.

“We can change that.” He tossed his wallet on the bed, leaning over to honour her request. “Will you take the condom out?” He said absentmindedly as he kicked his briefs off.

She turned to the square of black leather, swallowing and looking back up, “I don’t think I should touch your wallet.” A nervous laugh came out in the form of a huff. 

Johnny gave her a look of amusement, “I ask you to be my girlfriend and you think touching my wallet is going too far?”

For the shortest moment, she was too distracted by the view of his naked body; his dick spring up to his waist— angry red and too big. The next moment, his words seemed to register in her head.

She looked up at him, looking lost. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

The laugh that left Johnny’s lips was of incredulous frustration, “Yes.” He said patiently, “I thought I was transparent but I guess something got lost in translation.” He teased with sarcasm. He gave her an endearing smile, “(Y/N) I think you’re fucking incredible and I want you to be my girlfriend.” He came closer towards the bed, “Now will you please take that pesky condom out so I can show you a very compelling reason why saying yes is in your best interests?” 

She scrambled to grab the wallet, opening it to search for what he wanted.

“The pocket in the middle.” He pointed, close enough to do it himself but still standing still. She was very aware that he was absolutely naked— she was too, but between the two bodies, his was the one she wasn’t used to seeing. It took her longer than she was proud of to finally produce a string of foil packets, at least five.

“You came prepared.” She stared at them for a second before tearing one off.

“I’m an optimist.” The words made her laugh, throwing her head back. She handed him the packet, holding it in her hand firmly even after he grabbed it. He looked up at her in question.

“I do,” She inhaled, “for the record.” She felt a little dizzy.

“What?” He furrowed his brows, looking down at her.

“Want to be your girlfriend.” His eyes grew slightly, before he smirked.

“Are you sure you don’t at least want a demo first?” A smile tugged at his lips.

“No, I think I’ll take it. Something tells me the parts work fine.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He leaned into her, kissing the corner of her mouth before pushing back to look at her again. He smiled, kissing her in earnest after that.

“Up.” He spoke against her lips, standing back up and lifting the foil packet. She scooted up to the pillow. A frown fell over Johnny’s features for a moment as he thought about something.

“This could be a bit uncomfortable. You haven’t done this in a while and I’m a little–” He paused then laughed, a little embarrassed. “I’m not trying to be cocky. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He explained. 

Her eyes drifted to his dick. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat, as her eyes wandered over the thick veins on his shaft, the red tip— he was big. It seemed to twitch under her scrutiny, despite herself she thought she could feel her mouth water a little. Johnny stood and waited patiently. She dragged her eyes back up to his face.

“Just go slow.” She requested.

“Of course.” He nodded, tearing the packet open.

She lay back on her elbows, watching him sheath his cock. She rubbed her thighs together. When his knees dipped the mattress, she looked up at his darkening eyes.

“Now. Where were we?” His predatory gaze zeroed in on her face as he managed to cage her under him again. 

He kissed her deeper this time, she craned her neck to facilitate his endeavour. One elbow propped him up while the other caressed her side, making her shiver and reach out to grab his shoulders. Everything about him in the moment felt too perfect for her fragile mind to completely grasp. The way his back flexed under her touch, his smooth skin, his intoxicating smell and his soft, plush lips all made her feel like she was bursting from the seams.

He pulled away from her lips, a pout falling on her face at the sudden lack of his lips on hers. He laughed, kissing the corner of her mouth and plunging two fingers inside her easily. Her eyes fluttered shut as her lips parted softly.

“Relax a little for me baby.” He urged her, his voice a low hum. She wanted to tell him that it would be unfathomable to even ask her that when he looked at her like there was currently no one else in the world. But she gave him a quick nod and exhaled softly, easing her muscles into the bed. He popped his fingers out, plunging them in faster.

“That feels good.” She mewled as her words made him pick up pace.

“I can’t wait to feel what it's like to be inside you.” He added under finger, her legs twitching from the sensation. “Do you want to cum like this?” He asked. The vigorous shake of her head she gave him made him laugh, she wanted him inside her. “Alright.” He pulled his fingers out and despite it being her request she whined, her eyes fluttering open. He brought his fingers to his lips and she was sure that she was about to go insane as his tongue poked out to lick them.

He entered her slowly, his eyes cemented on her face. She willed her eyes to stay open as he entered her, she wanted to see him. The feeling of being filled this excruciatingly slow made her toes curl, Johnny bit his bottom lip. She could feel him fill her so completely, every little crevice slowly brimming with the sensation of him. Her fingers dug into his back. Johnny’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips parting softly. He stopped, searching her face for an answer to a silent question. When she nodded a choked sigh left his lips, slowly he went deeper. Her back arched as she felt him so deep inside her, her body dissolving into pure nerves and sensation.

“Just a little more.” His voice was strained, the veins on his neck tight. She gave him a nod, her eyes fluttering closed when she finally felt him balls deep. Johnny sighed, falling closer to her body, littering kisses all over her face, her neck. “Such a good baby. Taking me so well.” He licked her clavicle. “You’re so tight, (Y/N).” He whined against her neck, “I think I’m going to lose my mind.” He sighed, staying in place and giving her the time she needed.

She wanted to remember this feeling forever, of feeling so full. Sex hadn’t been something that felt intimate to her before, it was an impersonal act of pleasure when people became creatures of basic instincts.

Yet, everything about this moment felt more intimate than anything she could recall. The soft look in his eyes, the patience of his movement, the feeling of him inside her. She wanted to weep into her shoulders and hold him in her arms.

“Move.” She whispered in his ears, kissing the lobe softly. He whined again, shaking his head forcefully. 

As he pulled out, they both gasped. His next thrust was smoother, the one after that even more sure. Her hand dropped to the sheet from his shoulder, fisting it till she felt pinpricks on her knuckles. He pulled back, balancing his frame of a single elbow, the other grabbing her waist. His thrusts got harder as he maintained his slow pace.

“Fuck.” She gasped, forehead gathering in focus.

“I’m trying, baby believe me.” He groaned. She opened her eyes, a mix of a chuckle and a whimper leaving her lips at the grin on his face.

“I like when you call me that.” She admitted, “Baby.” She whined as he seemed to find an angle that hit the right spot inside her, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “You like being my baby?” 

She nodded.

“I’m going to take such good care of you baby. Now and for as long as you let me.” He kissed her neck, his dick twitching inside from his own words. She moaned his name softly.

“I think I’m going to.” Her face twisted.

“Look at me, (Y/N). Touch me please.” He growled.

She forced her eyes open, “I don’t want to scratch your skin.” She pouted, he snapped his hips and she gasped.

“Yes you do, and do I. Hold me.” He cooed, bringing his arm up to brush her hair away from her face. She obeyed, his hand going to his back— her nails digging into his skin. 

Johnny moaned her name. “Can I go faster?” His brows creased further, the words a plea.

“Yes.” She gasped out, “Please.”

She clenched around his as her orgasm shattered through her body. Johnny’s face fell into her neck, gasping as her walls clenched around him repeatedly. His thrusts got sloppier and quicker as he reached his own high, her name a repeated symphony on his lips.

His body relaxed on top of her for a moment, the weight thrusting the air out of her lungs even though she was certain it wasn’t the full extent of it. He left a string of sloppy kisses on her cheek and neck till a giggle bubbled to her throat, his own chuckle was a throaty one.

When he pushed off her, she was starkly aware of his absence. The next moment, he put his arm around her waist and dragged her close to him. She suddenly felt shy, her eyes focused on his chest, tracing her fingers. He laughed his breathy disjointed laugh she was coming to adore, embracing her closer to his chest. He kissed her forehead, his thumb caressing her back.

“What is your go-to meal after a bad day?” He hummed against her hair.

She looked up at him, a quizzical grin on her face. “That’s the first thing you say?” She scoffed.

He laughed again, “Well I already took a giant leap of faith before sleeping with you and asked you to date me after knowing you exactly five day.” He squeezed her frame, “So I thought I’d lighten up the pillow talk.” She scoffed again, but her cheeks tinted red.

“Anything that takes me over an hour to make would do.” She answered his question after a moment’s thought. The look he gave her made her laugh, “Here me out. I usually listen to music, or maybe a podcast. It’s an hour or more of not thinking about anything other than the task at hand, and in the end there’s physical evidence of your labour. Evidence that is also delicious.” 

Understanding seeped into Johnny’s eyes. He smiled at her with a nod, “I think I get it.” She kissed his chin.

Day 6

Johnny stirred awake with a tug on his shoulder, squinting as the morning light first illuminated his view. (Y/N) smiled down at his sleepy face, standing over him.

“Why are you already out of bed?” His voice was a sleepy groan of protest, pouting his lower lip.

“We’ll be late for breakfast.” She explained.

Johnny gave her a relaxed smile, “Who cares? Come back in bed.” He turned over to grab at the air between them. 

She breathed out a light laugh at his antics.

“Come on! Don’t you want a cup of coffee?” She tempted him.

“I want you more.” 

She cursed her heart for picking up at something so cheesy, a humorous groan coming from her as she cringed at his words. Johnny rolled over to lay on his back and laughed.

“Okay fine.” He surrendered, sitting up and letting the sheet fall to his waist, “But on the condition we come back and get right back.” He patted the mattress.

Her eyes roamed his chest, wondering just how this man was currently naked in front of her. Then she registered his words, “You want to keep the villa?” She blinked.

“Yeah. How else am I going to do the things I want to you?” He asked like it was obvious. 

Her breath stuttered, “Fine. But you let me pay half of whatever fortune this place costs.” She gestured to the room with her arm.

“No.” He rubbed his sleepy face.

“Johnny.” She tried to reason.

“Please,” He whined. “I want to take care of you.”

She chuckled, sitting on the bed beside him and putting her fingers on his cheek. “You can do that in other ways. In ways that matter more. I can afford to pay for it, that’s something I’m immensely proud of. So let me?”

He chewed on his lips for a second but nodded at her, her smile growing wider.

Breakfast was a mistake.

She had made it a point to text Joohyun about where she was last night. It was to ensure that her friends weren’t under the assumption that she drowned in the ocean. Upon entering the restaurant, she suddenly wished she had drowned. 

A chorus of claps with a few cheers came from a set of tables in the corner of the room. A few other guests and Doyoung and Sooyoung’s parents turned towards the commotion with confusion.

“You were right.” She grabbed Johnny’s arm, “Let’s just go back now.” Johnny laughed at her reddening cheeks.

“Let’s go get some coffee.” He reminded her. She wanted to groan.

It was with a lot of reluctance that she walked up to the corner where their collective friends sat together, grinning at the both of them. She tried to hide behind Johnny, but he just put his arms on her shoulder. 

At the moment, she hated him.

“Well well, look who decided to finally show up.” Yeri laughed. (Y/N) turned to bury her face in Johnny’s shoulders.

“We were all making bets about whether you would show up or not.” Yuta sniggered.

“I didn’t want to.” Johnny shrugged, “(Y/N) insisted we come for the coffee.” He raised the hand in which he carried his cup.

“Wow, this must be serious if Johnny Suh wanted to skip his morning caffeine.” Taeil poked at Haechan who nodded with mock surprise.

“Guys.” Johnny frowned before he changed it to a grin, “Don’t tease my girlfriend.” 

“Girlfriend?!” Seulgi and Jungwoo shrieked together. The rest also had surprise etched all over their face.

“Kill me.” She groaned, trying to get Johnny’s arm off her shoulder but he didn’t budge.

Johnny just shrugged, no sign of hesitation or regret on his face. “When I know, I know.” It oddly comforted her.

“Alright, we’re going to go find something to eat.” Johnny waved at them.

“You will come back right here so Joohyun and I can grill you, understood?” Sooyoung’s threat was meaningful. “You have another thing coming if you think I’ll let you dazzle our best friend into this without a thorough interview. Okay?” (Y/N) had to admit, even she felt intimidated by the expression Sooyoung had on her face. Johnny swallowed, turning to give (Y/N) a look that begged for help.

She just gave him a shrug, “You brought this upon yourself. Also, they have the standing authority on this, I can’t do anything about it.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon to be her boyfriend?” Sooyoung spoke after she took a sip of her juice, “And don’t turn to her with every question.” She snapped, Johnny jerked his head back to face Sooyoung. “(Y/N) is very capable but she isn’t all that experienced with dating.”

“Sooyoung.” (Y/N) sighed.

“I don’t intend to overwhelm, (Y/N). I just think we’d be good together.” He shrugged.

“Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be so sure of that?” Joohyun’s tone was softer, but the question was no less blunt.

“No, not for me. If she decides later that it was then it’ll be an honest effort on both out parts. I was merely honest about my feelings.” He dropped his cutlery and looked up at them both confidently. (Y/N) lifted her hand to squeeze his.

“Damn.” Jungwoo mumbled, “He’s good.”

“Will you choose her over work?” Sooyoung followed.

“Sooyoung.” (Y/N) warned.

“What? You should know these things!” Sooyoung huffed.

“He doesn’t need to pick anything. These things can exist in tandem, I’m not going to ask anybody to pick me over something they’ve built for years, that’s unfair.” She furrowed her brows.

“(Y/N)–” Johnny turned to her.

“No. Don’t answer that. If you asked me the same question I’d kick you.” She was still frowning, Johnny’s lips turned up in amusement.

“Fine.” Sooyoung surrendered.

“I’ll never do anything that hurts her.” Johnny said softly, giving Sooyoung a reassuring smile.

“He really wouldn’t” Doyoung urged Sooyoung, “Johnny doesn’t have an inconsiderate bone in his body. He gave up a very important merger to come for our wedding. Something he has to go to Hong Kong to fix.”

“He once cancelled on a big client because I broke my arm and didn’t have anyone to drive me to the hospital.” Mark added.

“Guys.” Johnny mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“She’s slandering you, dude. Let them say it.” Haechan chimed in.

“It’s not slander.” Johnny sighed.

“She is my wife.” Doyoung glared at Haechan.

“I see that we’ve decided to attack me now.” Haechan slinked away.

“I know what I’m doing, Sooyoung.” (Y/N) reassured her friend, a gentle smile on her face.

“Good. Because if he hurts you I’ll kill him, but I’ll also break your bones.” Sooyoung said with a smile.

Doyoung gave Johnny an apologetic look. 

“That could have gone better.” Johnny finally spoke when they left the restaurant.

“She’s just a little protective. Don’t mind her, she’s always been the one who worries about me the most, when I moved for University, I’d spend all my holidays at their house because going back home was too expensive. Her mother is like a mother to me.” She stumbled over her words.

“I want her to like me.” Johnny’s smile was a little sad.

“She will.” She reassures, “She does. Sooyoung’s just being all business to intimidate you.” She scoffed. If Johnny wasn’t convinced, he didn’t push.

“See you in a bit?” He smiled at her instead.

She entered the room she shared with Joohyun to pack her bag. She found Joohyun sitting at the small table across the room, when she saw her she stood up.

“I’ve come to take my stuff.” (Y/N) paused, blushing. “I– , uhh, we’re sharing a room.” She looked to the floor. She didn’t know why it felt so strange to talk about this. Her friends knew her completely, her secrets, embarrassments and her insecurities.

(Y/N) sighed, “Sorry. Talking about these things, about a guy. It’s still very new to me.” She laughed.

Joohyun came up to her, “Are you leaving because you’re mad? I swear Sooyoung didn’t mean to come on so strong. You know her, she knows you’re smart and that you won’t do anything unless you haven’t thought it over. But she thinks you’ll be hurt and go back to avoiding relationships. We all want you to be happy, that’s all.” Joohyun let the torrent of words out.

(Y/N) gave her a smile, feeling very touched, “I know that. I’m not angry at all, that’s not why I’m going. I like him, I really do. I don’t avoid relationships because I’m scared of getting hurt, I just wanted to find someone who I can be in a relationship with.” She hugged Joohyun, “I love you guys, and I’m so glad that I have people who worry about me this much.

“I like him.” Joohyun grinned when they pulled away, “I think you make a good pair. Enjoy your youth, (Y/N).” She squeezed her shoulders making (Y/N) snort.

“Alright, mom. You guys are acting like you’re losing me. Don’t worry, you’ll still be number one for me.” She grinned.

“He makes you happy?” Joohyun questioned. 

(Y/N) thought about that for a moment: Johnny’s effortless attitude, his unapologetic honesty and unabashed intimacy. She thought about his teasing and his affection.

“He does.” There was confidence in (Y/N)’s voice.

“Then you have all of our blessings.”

When (Y/N) walked into the villa, Johnny was sitting in the sitting room, crouched over and deep in some thought. He turned to look up at her, giving her a soft smile and patting the space beside him.

“Should I be worried?” She joked as she put her suitcase to the side and sat down.

“I don’t think it was right to rush you,” He breathed in. “In hindsight.”

She huffed and sat back, “Do you also believe that I’m not capable of making a decision that works for me?” Her back deflated.

“No that isn’t what–” He looked away.

“You asked me. I considered it, and I realised that I like the idea. Asking isn’t rushing. Sooyoung wasn’t there so I can let it go. You were.” She turned to face him.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been thinking about it.” He groaned, pushing a hand through his hair before stopping to consider a thought. He took a glance at her, “For sometime now, I’ve been very aware of the fact that something’s been missing in my life. I try not to ponder over it because it felt futile. But getting to know you,” A smile tugged at his lips, one he pushed back. “You seem like someone who belongs in the crevices of my life.” He looked down at the couch, “But that isn’t fair to you. You aren’t a clog, you’re a person.”

“Johnny–” Her voice was soft.

 “The idea of what you can be for me is not something I am allowed to impart on you.” He sighed.

“Look at me.” She brushed her fingers on his cheek. He fluttered his eyes up, devastatingly vulnerable in the way he looked at her. “We’ll figure it out. You aren’t wrong for doing anything, we just need to try so we can replace ideas with who we actually are. Hmm?” Her voice was warm.

“I just feel like, I’m giving you something you don’t need. You seem like you’re absolutely fine the way you are.” His smile was sad.

“People shouldn’t need other people. They should want them.” She furrowed her brows, “I think that’s why I like you so much.” Her cheeks dusted pink at the confession. “You’re your own person, and you happened to want someone in your life. Not because you feel empty, but because life can be fuller than it is now.”

“You don’t think that’s unfair?” He questioned, eyes widening.

“No. I think it’s perfect.” She laughed effervescently, taking his hands into hers. “We complete ourselves, another person can only compliment us. A person can be whole in their own right, but life feels better when you have that whole to share with others.”

There was a silence between them for a moment that didn’t press down to stifle. They watched each other, slow and deliberate. 

“I’m a dumbass.” Johnny said suddenly, the words after the long silence making her laugh out loud, “And you’re officially the smartest person I know.”  Johnny came closer, his nose brushing against hers.

“Smarter than you isn’t smartest.” She joked. His jaw fell open, sarcastic shock on his face. She smacked his shoulder, he laughed.

“You know.” His voice was suddenly deeper, eyes darker. “If my inferior brain is recalling correctly.” She giggled at his words, “I think I have an overdue task from last night.” He hummed.

She squinted her eyes, giving him a questioning side eye.

“I said I’d eat you out.” He licked his lips.

Johnny lay on his side, looking up at her. She lay on her stomach, propping her abdomen up on her elbows. Johnny’s fingers brushed up and down her bare back in a slow rhythm she was getting used to.

“I once worked on a policy for two and a half years, only to have it tabled.” She smiled without humour, still bitter at the memory.

Johnny winced, “Okay that’s definitely worse that mine.” He confessed. “My worst experience at work was when I flew to Sydney for an emergency in under an hour of the phone call, only to have the IPO delayed. I didn’t even end up getting the client.” 

She grimaced, both of them laughing.

“Sucks doesn’t it? When you realise that you break yourself repeatedly for things that end up not mattering in the larger scheme of things.” She sighed.

“What you do matters.” Johnny sounded indignant, “You just can’t see it in front of you because the kind of change that has any real consequence is slow.”

She snorted, “You know the majority of the time I do things that are purely performative? So companies can pretend they’re more progressive than they are?” She snorted again, looking away from his eyes to the sheets under her. “It pays better to have no morals apparently.” She scoffed.

“You’re saying that to an investment banker.” He sighed, turning over to face the ceiling. He snaked his hand under her, pressing her flush against his side, “I really started working thinking I’d be different, that I’d help new companies get the genuine backing they deserve. Now everytime I liquidate a failed business, I get one step further from the person I wanted to be.” His eyes drifted to somewhere distant. The air conditioner whirring back to start automatically filling the silence of the room. 

She watched his throat bob, traced the lines of his face with her eyes. “Growing up sucked.” She whispered. Johnny smiled, giving her a distracted nod. “But it’s a part of it. You have to liquidate, cut their losses. It’s the burden of being in the position of making the tough calls.” She tried to comfort him, knowing too well how the disappointment of not living up to your expectations felt. He held her tighter, squeezing the non-existent space between them.

“You too.” He gave her a look, “Just because companies are performative doesn’t make you so.” She gave him a look of genuine gratitude.

A phone call had cut their moment of bliss short. Johnny apologised profusely for some work that was thrust on him. Repeated assurances later, she told him that she’d get some left over work done too. That seemed to reassure him, both of them spending the rest of the day in bed with the sound of laptops clicking in tandem. His presence was as comforting as it was reassuring, it was never easier to be busy in company.

A little after noon, her phone rang.

“Yeah?” She asked Jungwoo.

“Don’t you want to have lunch? I get that you must be busy, but at least store up on some food for the gymnastics you’re no doubt pulling.” She could practically picture him wiggling his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes, “No, we’re busy.” She stated.

“Yes, that’s what I said-” Jungwoo clicked his tongue.

“With work. Office work.” She added the last part to avoid any room for confusion. Jungwoo seemed at a loss for a moment, uncharacteristically silent. A snort left her lips despite herself.

“Is this some kind of very specific foreplay?” He finally managed to say.

“I’m hanging up on you now.” She deadpanned.

“Have fun.” His voice was sing-song to annoy her.

“Who was that?” Johnny looked up from his screen to ask.

“Jungwoo.” She scoffed, “Want to order some lunch?” She asked and he gave her an affirmative nod.

Day 7

Sooyoung looked like she was going to break down into tears. Both Doyoung and (Y/N) juggled between words of reassurances for her and glaring at Johnny.

“(Y/N) was supposed to walk down the aisle with Haechan. You were paired with Seulgi.” She gave Johnny a defeated look. Sooyoung stood at the edge of the balcony of her room, in a hotel robe. The makeup artist was running late and Johnny’s simple request to accompany (Y/N) down the aisle sent the nervous bride off the edge.

“I will walk with Haechan, Sooyoung.” (Y/N) urged her, really not wanting this to be the thing that ruined the morning of her wedding.

“No.” Sooyoung blurted, pausing to tug at the skin around her thumb with her teeth. Seulgi got up from the bed to tug her hand away— something Sooyoung had made her promise to do to save her manicure. “We can do this.” Sooyoung looked up, light filling into her eyes. “You aren’t the best man or maid of honour. It’s fine, it’s completely fine.” She sounded too cheerful. “Taeyong will still walk down with my sister first.” Taeyong gave him a quick nod.

“Sooyoung–” Doyoung’s voice faded, a little concerned.

“Are you sure?” (Y/N) winced.

“Yes.” Sooyoung smiled, before laughing. “It’s my wedding day. Irrespective of who walks with who. I’m walking out with the love of my life.” She laughed again. Doyoung stuttered, looking away as his cheeks flushed red.

“Fine. I’m giving you what you want.” Sooyoung turned to Johnny, who gave her a grateful smile, “Consider it an apology for threatening you yesterday.” Johnny grinned, giving her a nod.

“Now go.” She turned back to Doyoung, “This is bad luck.” She stated.

The next time (Y/N) saw Johnny, she was ready to tell him off for the stunt he pulled in the morning. But, and she absolutely blamed the setting they were in, when she finally saw him she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but give him a shy smile.

It was a perfect afternoon despite it’s hold ups. The tide was higher than anticipated so they had to shift the aisle to a flower garden that overlooked the beach instead of the sand. The blooms of many colours complimenting the blue and white motif Sooyoung had chosen better than the initial beach. 

Soft music played as Johnny walked up to her, giving her his elbow to put her arm into.

“You look beautiful.” Johnny whispered into her ear.

“You too.” She said, making him laugh.

Even as they reached the end of the aisle and went to opposite ends, he kept his eyes on her. They held their gazes until the music changed, announcing the bride’s arrival. (Y/N) looked down the aisle to her best friend, her face lit with abundant happiness and looking more beautiful than a goddess in her wedding dress.

She turned back to glance at Doyoung, a weight lifting off her chest when she saw his eyes rimmed red. She knew Sooyoung deserved no less. The sight was one of hope, of the possibilities of a future, of contentment. When she turned back to Johnny, he was staring at her still. The chairs shuffled as Sooyoung reached the end of the aisle, everybody sat back in place for the ceremony to begin. 

Johnny’s lips spread into a slow smile when their eyes met.

Epilogue

(Y/N) walked into her office on an early fall morning, a month after coming back from the wedding, to find what looked like an arrangement of candy.

“What is this?” She asked her assistant who looked up and then beamed at her.

“You tell me. It’s for you!” She sounded excited.

(Y/N) came closer to the thing, too large and too well arranged. She picked up the card tucked under a box of strawberries covered in chocolates.

‘Because you don’t like flowers, chocolates were the next cheesy thing I could think of. I’m back and I realised on my way to the airport I didn’t take your number. Dinner? - Your maybe boyfriend, Johnny.’

Her lips tugged as she tried not to smile too much. Her assistant’s phone rang, making her turn away rather reluctantly.

“Hello?” She looked up at her boss, pointing the phone at her. “It’s for you.” She walked up to the receiver, taking it from her assistant.

“Hello?” She asked.

A small groan whispered from the other end, “I’ve missed your voice.” She had to grab the desk. “They told me the gift was delivered so I thought I’d call. Your assistant told me you come in after nine.”

She felt a little at loss, “How did you get this number?” She questioned.

“My assistant did actually, very kind of him. He found your organisation and then your office.” He sounded proud. “I had to do something since I didn’t even remember to take your phone number.” He huffed.

“You could have just asked Sooyoung.” She laughed, avoiding her assistant’s face as her eyes lit up. She pointed at the arrangement before pointing at the phone, mouthing something that she assumed was a question. (Y/N) gave her a nod.

Johnny clicked his tongue, “I wanted you to give me your number. Incase you had second thoughts.” He paused, “So?” He questioned.

“So what?”

Johnny sighed, “Dinner, (Y/N). You and me.” He broke down the sentence, she grinned.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. 

It was an early spring night when (Y/N) had gotten home from work. She took off her shoes and dropped her bag to the floor with unfocused motions. As she reached across the sitting room, her phone rang. She had to go all the way back for it.

“Hmm?” She spoke into the device, a little surprised herself by the fatigue in her own voice.

“That bad huh?” Johnny chuckled.

“They tabled it again.” She sighed, trying to level the shake in her voice and blink away the tears that threatened to spill. There was a silence on his end, she heard the echoes of his walking cease. 

Then his steps picked up again, “I just got off work.” He said casually. “I’m coming over to eat whatever you’re going to make.” She laughed at his words.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” She grinned.

“I’m a good listener.” She should practically hear him shrug, “And an excellent boyfriend.” He reminded her, she heard the smile in his voice for real this time.

When (Y/N) answered the door, Johnny gave her a smile. Lifting the box he was carrying.

“You liked the cake from this bakery, so I thought I’d pick one up. It’s cream cheese. I got an almond croissant just in case you didn’t.” He gave her a peck on the lips as he walked into her home. “It smells amazing.” He beamed.

She smiled at him, unsaid words of gratitude on her face that he seemed to understand. He shrugged off his coat, hanging it beside hers and then loosened the tie around his neck.

“It’ll take an hour for it to finish cooking. I’m done with it otherwise.” She announced. 

Johnny took a few steps closer, arm snaking around her waist, “I can think of a few things we can do till then.” His lips brushed her ears.

It was an afternoon in late autumn. Johnny picked up a box of cookies from an aisle, looking it over for a second before putting it into the cart.

“A year I’ve known you, and I still can’t get used to how you will pick up literally anything while shopping.” She poked his ribs. Johnny put his arm around her shoulders, shrugging.

“It looked nice.” He mumbled.

“What if you don’t like it?” She questioned.

“I won’t know unless I try it, will I?” He hummed.

Her huff was a silent yield.

“Do you think I should get the liquid detergent or the powder one?” She questioned, eyes focused on the bottom aisle with the culprits in question in her line of sight.

“What’s the difference?” Johnny sounded confused, standing beside her and following her gaze like it would help answer his question.

“Liquid feels nicer, and is generally easier to use. Powder lasts longer.” She explained.

Johnny hummed thoughtfully, “Liquid sounds like the better bet to me.” He answered like the choice was an obvious one.

She huffed, “You act so spoiled sometimes.” She said incredulously. “I’ll have to get two if I get the liquid because I won’t have the time if I run out of detergent mid-week.” She stomped her foot slightly. An amused smile spread on Johnny’s face. “Two is heavier.”

“It’s just cloth soap. Get two if you have to, I’m going to carry it to your apartment anyway.” He snorted when she gave him an unconvinced frown, “And since it’s obvious to me by now, take the powder since that’s what you would have taken away.”

(Y/N) seemed pleased, turning to pick up the packet of powder detergent.

Johnny huffed, “Brat.”

She placed the bag in the trolley, turning to him with a raised eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

Johnny scoffed, “That doesn’t work on me. Save your intimidating gazes for work and the people who get too close on the subway.” He raised his brow back. 

Her lower lip stuck out as she looked a little flustered on being called out like that. Johnny laughed stepping closer to her.

“Brat.” He reaffirmed.

“Shut up.” She tried to hold back the whine as her cheeks heated up, “I am not!” She nudged him with her elbow.

“Don’t deny it.” He reprimanded, grabbing the string of the hoodie she wore to draw her closer, his hoodie. “You’re cute. But a brat nonetheless.”

“Oh my god.” She groaned with embarrassment. “This is why Mark refuses to go out in public with you anymore, do you know that?.” She pushed him away.

“See?” Johnny chuckled, pointing to her actions as proof of his statement.

She laughed, “Fine!” She sounded exasperated, “I am then. What will you do? Spank me?” She scoffed. She expected him to drop it, instead something shifted in his gaze.

“(Y/N).” His voice dropped lower than her stomach at his voice.

“Yes?” She intended to sound casual, instead her words came out a squeak.

“Would you like me to spank you?” He put a hand on her waist.

Fuck. She thought. The buzz of the lights above them and the occasional voice over the speakers along with the murmur of people made her very aware that they were inside a supermarket.

“Would you like to spank me?” She deflected his statement.

He squeezed the hand on her waist, making her jump slightly. They were in a supermarket on a Saturday afternoon.

“That’s not what I asked.” He snapped softly. She bit her lip at the authority in his voice. “Would you like it?” His eyes burned into hers.

Slowly, she nodded at him. Chewing her lips, she decided that now was a better time than ever to test a suspicion she had for a few months. “I’d love it, I think.” She paused, her heart beating and her cheeks burning with a mix of excitement and mortification. “Daddy.”

She wanted the ground to swallow her. Instead Johnny groaned with such delicious desperation that her stomach flipped.

“You.” He took a slow breath, taking another dangerous look at her. “Are going to pay for that.” The words struggled their way out. “Fuck, (Y/N). I can’t believe you just said that.” He combed his fingers through his hair, the words were somewhere between a growl and a gasp.

“Me neither.” She squeezed her eyes, groaning at her own horror.

“Let’s go home.” He huffed, “I want.” He paused, “I need to go home.” He slipped his hand to hers, holding it and giving it a squeeze.

She almost said yes, her breathing too shallow for her brain to have the adequate oxygen for coherent thoughts. But she sighed, shaking her head like she was trying to shake away the fog.

“You know I don’t have a costco card. I need to finish shopping. Otherwise I’m going to run out of dish soap mid-week” She begged, disappointed at her own conscientious response. To her surprise and Johnny’s credit, he nodded. Taking a step back, Johnny ran a hand through his hair, fixing his denim jacket and then giving her a soft smile like nothing ever happened.

She stared at the aisle out of her reach, the box of tea she was looking for on a shelf beyond her reach. She glanced back to find Johnny looking intently at a label. She scoffed. The only time he was particular about what he purchased was coffee and wine.

She glanced back at the aisle, deciding to risk the attempt at stretching up to get it while he was occupied. She didn’t want to hear the teasing at the moment. She was just out of reach when his arm wrapped around her, lifting up to assist her effort. She looked at him when he placed her back on her feet, bracing herself for the smirk. But his eyes were still glued to whatever coffee he was trying to scrutinise. She frowned.

“Are you seriously thinking of getting grocery store coffee?” She asked him.

He looked up at her with curiosity on his face, “I don’t remember the last time I had some.” The disgusted face she gave him made him laugh. “It says it’s decaf, so I thought i’d get it to try.” Her expression twisted further.

“Please you’re breaking my heart right now. It’s pre ground as well.” She looked affronted. Johnny laughed, putting the bag back where he found it.

“This is why I love you.” He chuckled, walking towards the trolley.

“You what?”

 She wanted to slap herself. He said it so casually, like it wasn’t the first time he had said that; while she felt like every single inch of her was firing up.

Johnny sighed, like he sensed her panic. Coming closer towards her and taking her hand in his. “I don’t expect you to say it back immediately, say when you mean it. When you know you feel it too.” He paused, “Or don’t. Either way, I had to let you know how I feel.” 

She had to kiss him, grocery store with a weekend crowd be damned. It was a reassurance, telling him that if he was already there, she was on the way.

It was late in the night in the middle of winter. It snowed outside while they sat wrapped in a huge blanket in front of Johnny’s fireplace. He kissed the back of her neck, her head tilting to the side for his benefit. Their skin was warm against each other and it was easy to forget that it was the coldest night of the year.

“I have to be in the capital next week.” She said as his lips started their journey down her spine. She shifted, turning to him. “I wouldn’t have gone, but I have a meeting with someone and I think I can get an education bill squeezed in.” She put a hand on her chest.

“Okay.” He gave her a smile, too generous.

“I’m going to miss your birthday.” Her eyes drifted, pained.

Johnny’s smile didn’t falter, his arms tightening around her waist and raising her higher on his lap. “I can fly in for the day. You can take me to that chilli place you claim is the best you’ve had. I still think the place in Chicago is better, but we can wait for you to have that.” He chuckled, before his eyes turned to something more tender, “I don’t care where I am or what we do, I just want to spend it with you.” He stated.

She kissed him with such sudden urgency that he almost fell over, an arm quickly going behind him to keep them both steady. 

She pushed back, a wide grin on her face, “I love you, you know that?”

“Of course.” He hummed, unfazed seemingly by the confession. 

She understood why, there were times when words truly were unnecessary in the face of other things. She kissed him again, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him closer to her.

It was an early summer morning when (Y/N) rolled over in bed. Johnny’s arms pulled her closer wordlessly, a small huff leaving her at the sudden movement.

She rolled back to face him, “I can’t believe it's already Monday.” She sighed, pushing the hair out of his face. Johnny sighed, as the words slowly registered in his sleepy head.

“Don’t go.” His voice was a soft huff.

She chuckled, “I have to go to work.” She brushed her knuckles against his cheek, a small pout forming on her face nonetheless.

“No.” He paused, looking at her carefully for a moment, “I mean don’t go back to your apartment. Move in with me.” He turned over to lie on his side, still looking at her.

“What?” She felt caught off-guard.

“It’s closer to your work. I have that costco card you covet so much.” He grinned. “And you know what a fabric conditioner is.” She snorted at his words, making him grin. “Plus, I have a coffee grinder.” He said like it was a grand prize— and he was right.

His hand went to her face, thumb brushing her upper lip and his grin turning into something softer. “We both know time is a luxury for us. I want to spend each moment I can with you. I want to come home to you and wake up to your face every morning.” His eyes traced over her face.

“Every morning?” She smiled.

Johnny hummed with affirmation, “Every morning. Someday I’m going to bite the bullet and ask you to spend the rest of your life with me.” A lopsided grin formed on his face when her breathing hitched, “But for now. Just move in with me.” He questioned.

She felt a little winded, his confessions always as effortless as his very disposition. But with him she had learned something, love was supposed to be exactly that— effortless.

“Okay.” She nodded, “To the moving in.” She added, “The rest we can discuss at a better time.” Johnny smiled, giving her a nod and pulling her back into his arms.

[spunkpunx]

Bittersweet Bundle Of Misery - Graham Coxon

Plot: Reader is dating Alex James, and finds herself miserable, but finds comfort in a tumultuous affair with his friend, and guitarist, Graham Coxon.

I will probably do a part 2.

Word count: 5153!

Warnings: Drugs, Alcoholism, Smut, Angst, Smoking

April 1996

Alex loved France. Not only that, but the French loved him, specifically the women. I didn't need to understand his words to recognise the flirty tone in his voice when he spoke to the waitresses, the bar staff, in fact, basically any attractive woman who fluttered her eyelashes at him. I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Of course, I knew Alex well, so I was never under the impression that he would be a devout, faithful partner, but I also never expected him to be so explicit in his relationships with other women. We both considered the relationship open, but Alex was the only one who seemed to take advantage of that situation.

I found solace in hanging around with Graham. The tour was stressful. We both struggled. We all drank, but for Graham it was a necessity. I spent more time with Graham than with Alex, but of course he didn’t care. The words “jealous” and “possessive” were not in his vocabulary, but then again, neither was “monogamous”.

I was tired and miserable. The venues where the band played could be stubborn about sound-checking themselves. This resulted in a lot of arguments, as I was strictly instructed that the band were only to have their own sound technician (me). Alex and Damon could be rude. Since I’d been dating Alex, nobody took my work seriously. I stopped being a technician with almost seven years experience on tour, and became “Alex’s girlfriend helping out”. The crew could be horribly sexist at times. Even Ivan dismissed me when I brought him a problem.

“Get one of the other technicians to look at it,” he said, after I told him that one of the venue’s sound guys had wired the bass into a guitar amp and not the subwoofer. He must have turned up the volume to compensate for the sound and blown the speaker.

“I know what I’m doing! I’ve worked with this band for years!” I ended up snapping. I heard one of the roadies mumble something about a period and it sent me over the edge. Sometimes I got so angry it was like I didn’t have control over my impulses anymore. I told them all to fuck off and stormed out the room, kicking the door with a tremendous thud as I left. After I’d cooled down and returned, the crew tiptoed around me like I’d overreacted. After the gig, Ivan came over to speak to me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to undermine you. You’re one of the best sound techs we’ve had,” he apologised, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. I appreciated the apology, it was the first one I’d had since the tour began.

Alex and I had an argument that night. We argued often, but this was explosive. He came into my room, coked up and horny, sitting next to me on the bed and pressing wet kisses to my neck.

“Are you over your little tantrum?” he asked, kneading my breast a little roughly. I pulled away.

“Little tantrum?” I repeated, surprised at his tactless words. “Everyone has been treating me like shit recently Alex.” He shrugged, running a hand up my thigh over my jeans, toying with my top button.

“Whatever it was. Ivan was trying to help and you just went mental,” he laughed, like it was all a big joke. He pressed his lips against mine and I pushed him away.

“It’s your fault I’ve been feeling like this!” I snapped. “If I didn’t start dating you then people would actually treat me like a professional! All of a sudden Damon is asking the drum tech to check the mic volume before they go on!”

“All of a sudden it’s my fault?” he asked, voice raising slightly. “Just cause you overreacted and bit Ivan’s head off?!”

“You don’t get it Alex! If you were ever actually here you’d understand how I was feeling, but you’re always off snorting lines and banging these fucking French girls!” I shouted at him.

“Well maybe I’d be here more if you actually put out instead of just going off at me!” he yelled back. I stood up, walking across the room with my hair clenched in my fists. I wanted as much distance between us as possible.

“Put out?” I looked at him incredulously. “So you’re only here if you can have sex with me? This relationship only exists so you can rely on me having sex with you whenever you fancy?!” We were both properly shouting now.

“That’s what relationships are! That’s what love is! The only difference between friends and relationships is sex!” he replied, seeing this as perfectly valid reasoning.

“So all I am is sex to you?” I asked, my voice now dangerously softer but still dripping with venom.

“No... That’s not- Stop twisting my fucking words!”

I calmly picked up my cigarette carton and lit one, letting his point ferment.

“Get out,” I spat. He glowered at me, standing up and leaving the room, slamming the hotel room door behind him.

As soon as he left the room, hot tears started spilling down my face, not tears of sadness but of rage. I felt overwhelmed. I smoked a cigarette, then another, the deep inhalation subduing my frustration. I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Piss off Alex!”

“It’s not Alex,” came Graham’s gentle reply. I stood and opened the door, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand.

“Gra,” I huffed in relief at his presence.

“I heard you were arguing, I wanted to see you were okay,” he said. It didn’t surprise me he’d heard it. Graham’s room was just across the hall, and we’d not been quiet. “Pub?” he offered, smiling slightly.

“Yeah alright, I’ll just grab my coat.”

We found a small bar not too far away from the hotel. Neither of us spoke particularly good French, but Graham knew enough to order some wine. The Parisians didn’t drink the same way the British did, and both of us were a little too embarrassed to try and order two pints of beer and a pack of cheese and onion crisps. Instead, we sat with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and two glasses, hidden away in a back booth and laughing at our clumsy attempts at the French language.

“It’s so embarrassing walking round with Mr Culture speaking fluent French like it’s the most natural thing in the world, meanwhile I struggle asking the man in the shop for a packet of fags,” I complained, chuckling.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what were you arguing about before?” Graham queried.

“Oh, just...” I paused, unsure whether to tell him or whether he’d just agree with Alex. “Well you know how I lost my temper before?” Graham nodded, sucking his lips into his mouth like he always did when he was listening. “Well he made a joke about it, and it pissed me off. I dunno, I feel so tired and miserable recently, and the way everyone has been treating me like I’m totally incompetent at my job is so difficult. Alex is never there, he just swans around doing whatever he wants, meanwhile I just feel so overwhelmed,” I spilled, not even intending to share that much. Something about the build up of emotions in my life and Graham’s reassuring presence at the end of the table made me feel the sudden need to tell him everything. “I just don’t feel happy anymore.”

“I know how you feel, kind of,” Graham reassured, placing his hand over mine, while I took a large swig of wine. Looking back, I think that was the first moment I thought about kissing him. Of course I didn’t, we stayed out most of the night and then stumbled back to the hotel drunk. But I actually considered that maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad if I was dating Graham, not Alex.

October 1996

I never expected the knock at the door. It was a cold night in mid October, so when I opened the door wearing only a large t-shirt and odd socks, the biting breeze nipped at my bare legs. Graham stood there awkwardly, wrapped up in a fleece lined jacket and his eyes slightly glazed in his drunkness. I didn't ask any questions, just greeted him with a hug that lasted a few seconds longer than usual, then invited him in.

Graham wasn't a happy man, but I myself was hardly a ray of sunshine. I sat down next to him on my old settee, lighting a cigarette and refilling my wine glass. I offered him a glass but he shook his head.

"What's up Gra?" I asked him softly, reaching out to cover his hand with my own. He let out a dejected sigh.

"I can't do it anymore (y/n)," he explained. "The band. I'm starting to hate them all. The press, the tours, the people. It's way too fucking much. Damon won't change the music we do, he's being a controlling bastard, and then Alex, fuck." Graham pulled at his earlobe, something I noticed him do often when he was feeling nervous or stressed.

"What is it?"

"He's out living his playboy lifestyle, shagging around, doing lines, drinking champagne. Meanwhile, you just sit around pretending like everything is fine!"

I dropped my hand from his. I wasn't ready for this criticism, especially not from a man who was currently drunk every second of his life.

"It is fine, Gra."

"No it's not, because he barely gives you a backwards glance when he goes out and I have to watch it," he complained. He turned to me, looking over my face like he was drinking it in. "I think you're so beautiful."

"What?"

"So, so fucking beautiful," he repeated. Graham was bad at eye contact, but right now he was drunk, and looking at me with such a sinful look in his gaze. He glanced over my lips, and the small flip in my stomach as he did was my only sign. There had been moments over the past year where Graham and I had shared similar glances, but neither of us acted on impulse, until now.

I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. Immediately his hands slipped around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and as he deepened the kiss I pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. He assisted my movements, pulling it off to fall lazily on the floor.

His hand travelled down to my underwear, tucking a finger beneath the waistband of my knickers, pausing to see if I stopped him. I did, but only to pull his t-shirt over his head. I had seen Graham without a shirt before, but now I took in his lithe physique and broad shoulders. He slipped his hand to my clit, rubbing it in slow circles. I gasped at his touch and he leant down to brush his lips against my ear.

“You turn me on so much,” he whispered honestly, slipping two fingers inside me and curling them up. I moaned into his neck, pressing a kiss against it. Alex never really bothered with foreplay so this felt like heaven. After a minute he pulled his fingers out to push me down against the sofa, as I pulled him into another hungry kiss. He pushed his hips against mine and I let out another soft moan while he smiled into the kiss. Soon the desperation over took us and I fumbled with his belt, helping him remove the rest of his clothes before he pulled my t-shirt over my head, drinking in my body.

For a second he tucked his hands into my hair, holding my face behind my ears and stroking me cheeks with his thumb, before kissing me playfully on the nose. He pushed himself inside me with a slight groan, watching my face as I let out a satisfied sigh. I felt so appreciated, the way he looked at me was so tender. Unlike my day to day misery with Alex, this felt so raw, so right. He cupped one of my breasts with his hand, kneading it gently as he softly kissed and nipped at my neck. I felt sweat beading along my thighs, pressed into his body as we lay on the sofa, fully naked with the exception of our socks. He picked up the pace, and I could tell he was trying to control his urge to finish as quickly as possible. He rubbed my clit with the rough pad of his thumb, causing me to let out an unexpectedly loud moan as I clenched around him and my body shook. This brought him over the edge and he finished inside of me with a string of swears. He looked at me slightly panicked.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked, and I laughed, nodding, still out of breath and thrumming from my orgasm. He rested his forehead against my own and we lay there for a moment, panting, letting it register what had just occurred. I didn’t feel guilty at all, although I could tell Graham did. Alex had said so many things to me now that I couldn’t feel regret for sleeping with his friend, not when the moment was so sweet. Then he seemed to be pulled back into reality.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, standing up and looking for his boxers. “I didn’t mean to do that, it wasn’t the plan.” I furrowed my eyebrows slightly.

“The plan? What was the plan?” I asked.

“I was going to tell you I love you, but you weren’t supposed to... You were going to tell me to piss off and then I could lay it to rest. I’m sorry. I’m drunk.” He pulled his boxers up and started looking for his jeans, but I reached out for his hand, pulling him round to look at me. I was still naked, knees drawn up to my chest on the sofa. I saw his eyes soften, his behaviour calm.

“Gra, I don’t want you to go,” I pleaded, my voice coming out a lot quieter than i intended. Alex and I had had another argument, and I was already feeling so lost until Graham showed up.

He paused, looking at out two hands together. I held my breath, waiting for his response. I needed him to make the irresponsible decision. Eventually, he nodded, and I nipped to the bathroom to clean myself up. When I came back in, clean and wearing a t-shirt and knickers, Graham had settled on the settee with the telly on, he’d also pulled his t-shirt on. I came to sit next to him, and he rested his head on my chest slightly while I began to run my fingers through his hair and he hummed contentedly. The show was boring, a late night crime drama. Within a few minutes Graham was snoring softly on my chest. I sipped my wine and smiled to myself.

November 1996

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Graham rolled over with a groan of pleasure, panting with sweat on his brow. I turned on my side to face him and he pulled a stupid face, still lying on his back. I let out a sigh and turned over, away from him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned, moving closer and pressing a kiss onto my shoulder. One of his large hands rested on my waist and I suppressed the urge to sniffle.

“We don’t love each other though do we?” I said rhetorically.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, if we loved each other, then I’d leave Alex and you’d stop drinking so much.” I felt so bad saying it, but it was true. Even as Graham arrived in a better mood today, there was still an alcoholic taste on his tongue. We’d been seeing each other for over a month, and I knew I wasn’t breaking up with Alex any time soon.

“Maybe you’re right, but still, it feels nice to say, doesn’t it?” he pointed out, nuzzling his head into my neck as he ran his hand round to lay against my stomach, pulling my back closer to his chest.

Sometimes it felt like Alex must have known about me and Graham’s relationship, because he suddenly changed last month. Of course, we still argued. He still enjoyed champagne and cocaine and plenty of women, but god he was good at apologising. After arguments he’d always pull off the perfect apology. He’d me out to an expensive restaurant and completely overlook every gorgeous woman there. He’d make a point of telling the waitress that he must be the stupidest man on earth to have an argument with his ‘beautiful girlfriend’ and would try and show me off to every person in the room. Sometimes his apologies were less flashy, sometimes they came in the form of a home cooked croque monsieur in the morning, and kisses all over my face. Alex had the ability to make me feel both completely worthless and wonderfully special, but when he made me feel so special the guilt always tainted my mood.

In fact, it was at this moment a knock came at the door. I sat up in slight panic. Graham looked at me in confusion.

“It must be Alex,” I told him in a hushed voice.

“Shit.”

The knock came again. I pulled on a shirt from the cupboard, padding through my flat to the living room.

“Hey, (y/n). I know your home,” he said through the door.

“Can you come back later, Al?” I asked, doing up a couple of the buttons. “There’s someone here at the minute.”

“No, just open the door,” he persisted. I sighed, walking over and unlocking it. I stood there in a just the oversized shirt and some underwear I’d pulled on. My bedroom door was shut, Alex wouldn’t mind as long as he didn’t know who was in there.

“I’m in the middle of something,” I said slightly exasperated.

“Fucking hell, you look good,” he grinned, looking me up and down before pushing his way past to get into my flat.

“Hey, don’t come in!” I protested.

“It’s fine, love. I left my keys somewhere here, I just came to grab them,” Alex replied, going into the kitchen and picking them up off the side. He walked into the living, cheeky smile on his face. “Hey, can I say hello to whoever is in there?” he teased, stepping towards my bedroom door. I rushed forward, pushing him away while he teasingly stood his ground.

“No you cannot, it’s weird. If I come into yours while someone’s there you look like a philanderer, but when you come here guys think you’re my pimp or something,” I argued, managing to get him across the room toward the front door.

“Okay, fine,” Alex agreed, dropping his hands to around my waist. “Kiss goodbye?” he requested in a silly voice, tilting his head to the side. I rolled my eyes, but agreed. He pressed his lips to mine for a moment, dropping his hand to squeeze my arse jokingly, and I pulled away to give him a lighthearted smack on the arm and hurrying him out the flat.

When I walked back into my room, Graham was still nestled beneath the duvet, his head poking over the top.

January 1997

"You have to be joking, right?" came the surprised voice of Blur's bassist. Alex was stood in the doorway of a backroom at Groucho's. His pupils were like goddamn dinner plates, as per usual, but for once he was acting surprisingly sober for someone so off their tits. We'd been caught, and as Alex cast a disbelieving look between myself and his bandmate my heart dropped down into the bottom of my stomach.

I had been dating Alex James for just about two years, and had known him for four, and although our relationship wasn't defined as such, it was a rather open one. This, however, seemed to be a breach of our agreement. This wasn't a random person, or even a distant friend, this was Graham.

When Alex had walked in, he'd come across a scene that was a little bit more than over friendly. The guitarist had his hand underneath my skirt and was kissing my neck while we laughed drunkly. Of course, then came the interruption, and we had jumped apart at the arrival of my boyfriend. I sat awkwardly, chewing my lip, feeling like a naughty school kid. Nobody spoke. It was difficult to know what to say. There was no chance of convincing him it was less than he thought, I'm sure our guilty faces spoke volumes. After a pause that went on for way too long, I tried to speak up.

"Al-" I began to reason but my voice was cut of.

"No," he interjected. "I can't fucking believe it. You're my mate, Gra. You're in the band. Of course, the quiet, sweet one. Works for you doesn't it? 'Cause this whole time you've been fucking my girlfriend," Alex snapped. I saw Graham look down, his jaw clenched slightly. I wanted to reach for his hand but I knew it wasn't the time.

"Alex,” I warned but he scoffed at me.

"Piss off with that, (Y/N)," he scolded with an incredulous laugh. "Get your stuff from my place tomorrow, but don't come too early 'cause I'm bringing home that blonde girl from the bar tonight," he told me harshly, leaving the room, probably to go practice his lines in the bathroom.

I sat back down next to Graham, my frown mirroring his. I tipped my head onto his shoulder, and he pulled me into him with a comforting arm. It was difficult to pin down my feelings, although guilt was the presiding one. I felt especially guilty for not finding the ability to care that Alex had just split up with me. I felt tears prick my eyes, unable to stop myself from crying. Graham tilted his head to me, brushing the tears from underneath my eyes with his thumb, and pressing a kiss onto my forehead. I tried to pull him in for a kiss, to distract myself from my current feelings, but he turned his head away.

“Now’s not the time,” he told me gently.

February 1997

I didn’t expect to still accompany the boys on the American tour, in fact, I was aware Alex had greatly argued against it, but Ivan had insisted. I was under contract to the record label and familiar with the set up and how the band liked things. I rather have stayed in London to be honest.

Before we left, Blur released their self titled album, kicking it off with a 'secret' gig at the Astoria to a sold out crowd of two thousand people. The mood was so elevated, all tensions seemed to be erased. A huge after party went down. It was packed with Britpop royalty and went completely out of hand. That night I even stupidly assumed that things would go back to normal, water under the bridge.

I only listened to the album two days later. It was totally different to anything they'd done before. I recognised the influence of the underground bands Graham listened to, although the tone seemed slightly ironic. The album seemed fast paced, but then, halfway through the album came an unexpected softer number, Graham's soft voice coming into my living room through a layer of crackly voice effects. The first verse was despairing. I knew Graham was struggling with his alcohol, but I'd been doing so awfully myself that I didn't even realise how bad it had gotten. It was the chorus that really ruined me though; heartwrenchingly honest and bitterly optimistic. I didn't care if he'd written it about me or not, but that last line hit me somewhere deep in my heart and put tears in my eyes. By the time the song had ended I was a sniffling mess on my living room floor and brimming with such a strong sense of love.

We left to France two days later. The crew were acting strange with me. Everyone knew that I’d now slept with two members of the band, and there was lots of implication I was going to try a third. Damon was acting well off with me and usually I found myself sat with Graham receiving glares from both Damon and Alex. We had to go through Paris and then Tokyo before we arrived in the US at the beginning of March. Things were okay when we all got drunk enough, the boys tended to forget about my crimes against the band. We did sing alongs at our hotels. Alex got a bit arsey when Graham fell asleep with his head in my lap in Tokyo, but he’d happily bring girls to drink with us and happily snog them while I was sat there. I didn’t mind, the part of me that cared was so easy to shut off now.

I loved Japan, and the Japanese loved Blur. Damon was particularly popular with his blond hair, blue eyes and pretty face. The reception at the airport was always brilliant. There would always be a crowd of teenage girls desperate for a signature off their favourite band member, I think one of the Gallaghers already said it, but it was like a second wave Beatlemania. I usually sat back with Ivan, watching the boys deal with their fans, especially Graham. While Alex and Damon used a charming smile, Gra always seemed so unsure what he was doing was right. It was very endearing. I wanted to stay as far away from fame as possible.

Me and Alex’s breakup was extremely high profile. Of course, why we split up was a public mystery, only adding to interest levels. We kept our relationship fairly private, although I had experienced the odd incident with paparazzi, but the Blur management team saw great opportunity for promotion with our split. I was hounded by music journalists for weeks, and photos of me suddenly started appearing all over the gossip magazines. As much as I didn’t want to be stuck on tour with Alex, I had to say it was a relief to leave it behind.

Graham still came to my hotel room late at night, but for both of our sakes he left way before the sun rose. That part was the hardest, when he climbed out of bed to get dressed and leave. I’d watch him put on his clothes, peeking my head over the bedsheets and not speaking. He’d press a kiss to my forehead and tiptoe out the room, back to his own. Then I was alone. I think that fear of being alone was what kept me from ending things with Alex, because staring up at the ceiling after Graham left was the most saddening feeling in the world. I couldn’t say I love you to him anymore, even if I did. When I was still with Alex, it was just a phrase, but then it had become an empty promise. I was far too scared to bear my soul to him like that. I think it upset him slightly, when I wouldn’t say it back, but he never mentioned it.

It was moments like that, lying alone in bed and feeling totally isolated, with nothing but the rushing thoughts in my head, that I would have given anything for Alex to burst into my room and pick a fight with me again. Sometimes I wanted him to loose his temper, to see me across the room and to shout at me, to call me names. His willing acceptance of the situation hurt me most. His ability to move on like it was nothing.

March 1997

Things went downhill once we arrived in America. Everyone was jet lagged from the flight and we were mainly travelling around on a tour bus. Being in such close confines did have a habit of getting on everyone’s nerves. I was sharing a tour bus with some other sound technicians, which was a nightmare. I was the only woman on tour, and every morning I got up an hour before everyone else so I could get dressed without being stared at by a group of blokes. Unfortunately, I was also going to bed in the early hours of the morning anyway, so I was feeling twice as exhausted as usual.

Suddenly, Alex seemed a whole lot more pissed at me than before. Any time Graham and I were even in the same room, he would glare until one of us left. He couldn't help but leave snide comments.

The other issue with being on tour was privacy. I barely got a second alone with Graham. Damon had walked in on one of our few opportunities, while Graham had his head between my legs, and aside from it being very embarrassing, since the incident Damon had been twice as off with me as ever before. Eventually, Graham and I settled for cuddles and conversation, this seemed to cause the least tension.

One night in Detroit, we all went out to a bar. I found in America all anyone ever wanted to know was 'what you did'. Of course, this was in reference to career, but I'd recently found entertainment in replying "nothing much". I spoke to lots of American's, receiving regular compliments on my accent. We drank lots, Alex ended up taking a very attractive blonde girl to the tour bus, leaving the rest of us to continue our evening by drinking enough to knock out an elephant. At one point I wobbled outside for a cigarette and some fresh air.

I stood by the back door and the bins, inhaling the smoke and letting the cold sober me slightly. Then, a very drunk Damon stumbled out the pub, proceeding to bend over by the wall and vomit onto the floor and his trainers. I rushed over, putting a hand on his back and trying to shuffle his feet away to avoid where he was being sick. He finished throwing up and swatted me away.

"Piss off (y/n)," he slurred. "It's your fault it's like this." I stepped back, surprised at his words.

"What?"

"You cocked everything up!" he whined, leaning against the wall for support. "You broke Alex's heart, and now he's mad at Gra, and now Gra's in love with you and you're going to hurt him. Fucking hell, (y/n), look at him! Can't you see what it'd do to him!"

I couldn't help it. For what seemed like the millionth time in the past month, tears prickled my eyes. I never usually cried, but now all my emotions lay very close to the surface.

"I don't want to hurt Graham, Dames. I never wanted to ruin anything," I sniffled, taking a drag from my cigarette to try to calm my wavering voice. "I love Gra, I really do, it's just... complicated."

Damon's eyes softened slightly, and then he fell over into his own sick.

[snootsnoot-fiction]

I Heart You

Pairing: Denny Duquette x reader

Warnings: Mention of death, reference to sex (this was meant to be an aftercare fic but turned into general fluff mostly)

A/n: This is another birthday gif for @lemonboy-milo​ its officially been a year since i wrote my first ever fic as well, all for this gay boi, I hope your day is as good as can be

Summary: Denny can finally really look after you since his surgery...

It had been a long, and difficult few months to say the least. A heart transplant was no small feet. Nor was everything that came after. There was always a chance of the host body rejecting a new organ.

You were scared for weeks after Denny’s operation. You were more than grateful for his second chance of course - he was almost at the end of his rope on life before receiving this heart - but you were also way too aware that things could be snatched away when you least expect it.

Needless to say, no matter how strong you tried to stay for your man, it was you that ended up needing most comfort. Denny, as much as he hated the idea of leaving you, had personally made peace long ago with the strong possibility of death. 

You had your moments of course. Moments when visiting in the hospital where you would be stronger than ever. It broke you to see him as he was, but you loved him with everything you had. So long as Denny Duquette was alive, you were okay. He was fighting for you, it was only fair you fought for him too.

After the transplant operation, Doctor Burke had gone over what was to come with you and Denny. The average recovery from a heart transplant was at least six months. So, when the man was finally able to go home a few weeks later, you took time off work to make sure you could do anything and everything for him at such a pivotal time. He was no longer in the hospital, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

Denny Duquette tried to get you to relax at times. Of course, he wouldn’t always succeed, but whenever he did, he made sure to promise to not do much. The amount you cared for him and his healing was something he would absolutely never take advantage of. Plus, the sooner he recovered, the better.

The man hated not being able to look after you. That was his one job in life - make sure you were alright. In all the events that occurred thanks to his bad heart, however, he had eventually learnt that taking care of himself was taking care of you. Naturally, he still had his bad times, but it was all worth it to prolong your life together, and keep you happy. 

You had met Denny at the Seattle Grace hospital. He had struck up a conversation while the both of you were waiting in line at the coffee cart. His heart problems were mentioned, and ever since then you had been worried about him and anything relating to his heart. The man even gave you his coffee so you didn’t have to buy one after you expressed concern. 

The two of you had been in intimate situations before, but never full on intercourse. As much as you wanted it at times, not only were you scared about his heart, but you were shy. All that mattered to Denny was that you were comfortable and okay. ‘When you’re ready darlin’ he would say. When his heart got worse and he got his new one, you would suggest you’d be ready when he was fully recovered, but he’d always gently turn you down, insisting you had to be ready. To be comfortable. To truly want it.

That being said, it happened so naturally. It was perfect and everything you could have imagined and more. It had been about seven months since the surgery, and the man wanted to treat you. The perfect indoor date, just the two of you. He went all out, even pretending to drop you off back home at the bedroom door. It was in that moment, as you looked into his loving eyes, emotion swelled up inside you like a hurricane. Before you knew it, you had pulled him in for a passionate kiss. 

The rest, as they say, was history. At least it was up until now. You were laying in Denny’s arms, completely naked and content for the first time in your life. All your worries, in this moment, were nowhere to be found as this man held you to his bare chest. 

“How’s my Y/N?” He asked softly as his thumb rubbed circles into your arm and he placed a kiss upon your head.

“Mmm great…” You murmured softly as you watched your own hand just sitting on his torso. “How are you?” You asked after a few moments, looking up at him. He knew you were thinking about his heart.

“I’m fine baby,” he spoke with a smile as he lifted one hand to cup your face, “more than fine. I love you so much dollface.” His words made you blush and you began to look away, but he gently grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him again. “You’ve done so much for me this past year.. I am more than thankful for that.” All you could do was smile shyly and blush harder. He simply chuckled. 

“What are you doing?” You whimpered when Denny slowly started to move.

“I’m looking after you.” He stated matter-of-factly as he gently laid you back down and stood up from the bed, pulling his underwear back on. “Uh- no no no!” The words came out firmly as he leaned over to press a hand to your shoulder when you started to move.

“I should be looking after you…” You pouted at him.

“Baby doll you need to relax okay?” His hand moved to cup your cheek again. “You have been looking after me since we first met, let me really look after you for once, yeah?” He waited, not wanting to let you get up. You could see the seriousness in his eyes. The love and desire to be his normal self again.

“Okay..” you eventually managed to mumble as you laid back as you were. Smiling, Denny’s hand brushed down your arm, grabbed your hand, and pulled it up to his lips for a kiss. His eyes sparkling with happiness as he looked at you.

After another moment, the man let go as he grabbed the sheets to pull them over your nude form. You grabbed the sheets eagerly, hugging them up to your chin.

“You need anything?” He questioned as he stood straight again.

“Just you.. cuddles..” your words made him chuckle softly.

“Is my baby thirsty?” The man gave you a firm look, making you nod ever so slightly. “I’ll just get you some water, okay? Then we can cuddle.” 

You listened to the sound of his footsteps and the clink of glasses as he retrieved one from the cupboard. A grin creeped on your face as the seconds passed and you expected him to walk back in. The tiniest squeal left you when he reappeared, causing the widest smile yet to spread across his face and yet another blush to spread across yours.

“Here.” Denny moved to sit on his side of the bed before handing you the glass. He watched as you downed the water. “Very thirsty.” He commented as you placed the glass on the bedside table. You wasted no time in holding up the bed sheets and patting his spot, silently commanding him to now cuddle. “So impatient!” The man chuckled again as he slid under the covers with you.

Instead of cuddling right away, he laid on his side facing you, grabbing your hands and holding them to his chin. 

“How did I ever get so lucky huh?” Letting one of his hands go, Denny stroked your hair with such affection you could have melted and fallen into a puddle on the floor. 

“I don’t know..” you squirmed slightly, not used to someone caring for you like the man in front of you did.

“C’mere…” Letting go of your hands, he opened his arms. You squealed excitedly again, causing him to chuckle, as you turned around and wiggled back into him. Little spoon that you were. His arms closed tightly around you as he pulled you further into him as he breathed in your scent and let out a long, satisfied sigh. 

“Y/N… I dont think you know just how much I appreciate everything you have done for me, especially over these last few months,” he whispered into your ear. You could hear everything he felt hanging on his every word. “I haven’t been able to look after you as well as I would’ve liked, but now with this new heart, I can do that and love you twice as hard as I ever did.. So I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself in for darlin’.” He nuzzled his face into the back of your neck.

“I love you too Denny baby.” Your words portrayed how soft he had made you feel. This man, who was unable to be the man he usually was for so long, had every intention of looking after you in every sense. You stuck with him all this time, helped him through all the bad, and now he was back to full strength, he was going to do the exact same for his precious baby doll. 

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya: Ladybug learns the truth

“Hold on a minute,” said Alya as she scrutinized the billiard-ball sized object on the bed in front of her. It glowed with several different shades of purple that swirled around each other just slightly faster than was comfortable to look at. “This is a very difficult case.”

Sitting next to her on the bed, Juleka stifled a giggle. “What’s your prognosis, Dr. Alya? Am I going to make it?”

Alya grinned at that. “Your soul looks mostly fine,” she said. Her tail flicked in pleasure; Alya liked it when her ‘cult’ — or, as she had learned to think of them, her friends — were doing well, and Juleka was one of the closest friends she had. Alya’s wings fluttered a little too, creating a slight breeze which blew a few strands of hair into Juleka’s face. Juleka blew them back with a mock-grimace while Alya chuckled and then continued. “No blemishes or spots that I can see. Just a little agitation. And as for what might cause that…” An idea came to her. “Are you planning on asking Rose out later?”

Juleka blushed, her skin reddening to the point where it almost matched Alya’s devilishly-red hue, and the colors in Juleka’s soul began swirling even faster. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I’ve been, um, trying to build up the courage for a week or so, but it’s hard.” Her hair drooped over her face, and this time she didn’t try to push it back. “She’s so amazing,” Juleka went on. “And I’m—“

“Also amazing,” Alya cut in. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the best high priestess ever. I know that Rose likes girls who are kind, compassionate, wise, and have a strong moral code—and you’re four for four. Forget that prohibition against angels dating humans; if you ask her out, I’m certain she’ll say yes.”

Juleka smiled a little, but she said, “Everything you say makes sense, but I just have trouble making myself believe it. It’s hard to feel it, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Alya, thinking about one of her other friends. She’d been hanging out at Marinette’s house a couple hours ago, listening to the girl excitedly detail the pastries she was going to make for a charity bake sale, and she’d found herself wondering once again if she could risk revealing her true identity. It would be so easy to let her demonic veil fall and show Marinette her true form, and surely Marinette was kind enough and non-judgmental enough that she’d be able to see past the horns, wings, flickering tail…

But if she wasn’t, if Marinette panicked at learning that Alya was a literal demon from Hell, then the friendship would be over. And Alya couldn’t risk that. Even if Marinette didn’t do anything else (like call Ladybug to banish Alya back to Hell for the next few eons), Alya would be devastated to go through her time on Earth without being able to call on her best friend. And so Alya had once again decided the risk wasn’t worth it, no matter how much she yearned to be able to tell Marinette about her true self.

But even if she couldn’t solve her own problem, she was sure she could help her High Priestess. “Let me try,” said Alya as she cupped Juleka’s soul in her hands. “I think I can calm your soul enough that you can at least ask Rose without panicking halfway through.”

“Thanks,” said Juleka with gratitude in her voice. Alya could tell that she’d been worried about losing her nerve at the worst moment. 

Alya focused on Juleka’s soul, reaching out with her demonic senses until she could feel Juleka’s love-fueled agitation. Then she began to exert her will on it. “Yield to me,” she chanted in quiet Latin. “You who have entrusted me with your soul, yield and let me calm you…”

After a few minutes, the colors in Juleka’s soul slowed down a little, and Juleka took a breath. “I feel better,” she said as a smile crept across her face. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Alya as she continued to focus on Juleka’s soul to make sure no traces of agitation could remain and screw things up for her later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Juleka said. “You told me that demons usually use their soul-influencing powers to torment the people whose souls they take, as part of their torture. You know, like making them fanatically loyal and ready to sacrifice everything else for their demon, or driving them into fits of rage, or things like that. But you use your powers to make me and the other people in your cult feel better and be more functional. Do you have different powers than other demons? Could other demons act like you if they wanted?”

“They could; my powers aren’t unique to me,” said Alya as she inspected Juleka’s soul again and noted that it was now in perfect order. “After all, any of the things I’ve done for you guys could be used to hurt someone. Take right now: I just calmed you down, and that’s good, but another demon could calm the soul of a soldier to mellow him out so much he couldn’t be roused to defend his position, resulting in the bad guys overrunning it. Or look at yesterday. Aurore was still feeling a grudge against Mireille for beating her to get that TV job, and she asked me to help her get over it so she didn’t get angry whenever Mireille was on TV. I was able to use my influence over her to make her more forgiving and remove that blemish in her soul, and everything was fine. But another demon could do the same thing on a judge so that judge decided to ‘forgive’ criminals and release them, even knowing they were going to commit more crimes.”

Juleka inclined her head. “I see. But I guess most demons stick to the more obvious types of harmful influence? Making people angry, or greedy, or things like that?”

“Yeah,” said Alya. “The seven deadlies are classics for a reason. They usually work for tempting and damning people, and they don’t require a lot of knowledge—make a human really angry and he’ll usually commit a sin. So they’re useful for demons who aren’t interested in humans, the ones who just want to bag their quota of souls and go back to Hell.” She grimaced. “But those demons are idiots. And the idea of squishing all humans down to being a bunch of angry, greedy jerks is just… it’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “I mean, I was taught otherwise and I even believed that at first when I showed up here, but that crumbled as soon as I met actual people.”

“Specifically, Marinette,” Juleka noted.

Alya blushed a little, but said, “Not just her. So many of the humans I’ve met are amazing, and I’d rather help you be the best humans you can be than turn you all into a bunch of psycho cultists. Yes, there’s humans who are already awful, and I’ve got no problem yanking their souls and doing all the traditional devil stuff to them. You guys heard what I did to that exorcist who tried to banish me, I’m sure. But corrupting someone like you, or Mylene, or Alix… taking away what makes you girls unique so you can become yet another generically-terrible person… that would just be wrong, no matter what my bosses say.” She paused. “If you girls are in my cult, if I’ve got your souls, I want to use that to help you. Not torment you.”

“Well, you’re a pretty amazing demon yourself,” Juleka said. “And we appreciate that.”

Alya beamed at that. “I do try,” she said in a faux-haughty voice. “And as long as my high priestess continues to supply me with regular deliveries of Dupain-Cheng pastries and anime to watch, I’m sure I shall continue.”

Juleka laughed, then stilled herself while Alya picked up her soul and gently pressed it against her chest. After a moment the soul slid in through Juleka’s shirt and body, and Juleka gasped slightly at the now-recognizable (but, somehow, never totally familiar) feeling of suddenly being more ‘herself.’ Once her soul was back inside her, she let out a happy breath and said, “I really do feel calmer now. Thank you so much, Alya. I think I can ask Rose out without panicking.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know who to call.” Alya hopped off the bed and stretched, her wings flaring out and her tail flicking backwards to poke Juleka’s nose. Juleka giggled and playfully flicked at it, and it recoiled for a moment only to dart in and begin tickling her under her chin. Juleka quickly dissolved into helpless laughter.

Alya glanced back and smirked for a moment before laughing herself, and it took a moment before either of the two girls could stop. Then Juleka managed to get up, a silly grin still on her face. “I’ll look over the souls,” she said as she motioned to the large shelf where Alya kept the now-considerable number of souls from her ‘cult.’ “See if anyone has any new blemishes or spots.”

“Just don’t mix them up,” Alya said. “I remember the last time my little sisters got in here and put them all out of order, and then when Mylene needed her soul back for the day so she could go to church, she accidentally got Chloe’s soul and spent the whole service calling the priest ‘ridiculous’ because he kept asking for donations to buy fancy artwork for the church but wouldn’t commit to using any of the funds for actual charitable causes.”

“I won’t,” said Juleka. She went over to the shelf and began looking at the souls. First was Chloe’s, which was yellow and orange and vaguely spiky (though the spikes were gradually shrinking as Alya and the others worked to bring the prickly girl out of her shell). Then came Alix’s, which was pink and almost vibrating with energy, to the point where it actually bounced if dropped or tossed against a wall. (Alya knew this because Alix had idly tried to dribble her soul one day, and it had bounced around the room until it bonked Alya in the head, at which point Alya had instituted a no-dribbling-souls policy). Next was Nino’s, a gentle blue ball in a comfy little doll bed and had tiny headphones playing Nino’s favorite music. And so on, down the line.

While Juleka looked over the souls, Alya gathered up a few dishes and went to put them in the kitchen. Technically, it was the job of her cult to do any chores that she needed done — and it was Juleka’s job to manage the cult and make sure that happened — but Alya didn’t feel comfortable making them do that. Besides, Marlena would get mad, and—demon powers or not—Alya knew better than to disobey her.

Alya entered the kitchen as she idly whistled a tune she’d heard on the radio. Her little sisters were over at Nino’s house, which meant that there should have been nobody in the house who didn’t know that she was a demon, which meant she didn’t need to bother with her veil. As such, she was in her full demonic appearance, with red skin, horns, wings, cloven feet, and a flickering tail as she rinsed off the dishes.

And then, when she turned around, she saw Ladybug staring at her.

For a few moments Alya didn’t believe it. Then her mind almost crashed as she realized what was going on — that one of the superheroes, someone who wielded the power of the kwami and was more than capable of banishing her to Hell for half an eternity, knew her true nature — and scrambled to find a way out of it. But none came to mind. Ladybug was staring at her, Alya Cesaire, in her demonic form. 

A half dozen potential options for escape flitted through Alya’s mind, but none survived a second of scrutiny. Ladybug was fast, strong, fiendishly clever, and she could summon magic objects which always somehow managed to be whatever she needed to catch her quarry. Then Alya thought if there were any possible ways to fight Ladybug and win — if she could throw Hellfire, or Whisper distractions, or draw on her cult — only to dismiss those ideas too. This was Ladybug. She couldn’t win a fight against her. And besides, even if she somehow did, that would leave Paris defenseless against Hawkmoth. It would leave her cult—her friends—without protection from that lunatic.

And so Alya didn’t run or fight. She just lowered her head and whispered, “Please don’t banish me…”

“I wasn’t going to banish you,” said Ladybug.

Alya blinked. “You weren’t?”

Ladybug shook her head. “If I was, I wouldn’t have waited for you to notice me,” she pointed out. “I’d have zapped you from a neighboring rooftop.” A slight smile appeared on her face. “You’ve fought alongside me for how long, Alya, and you think I’d give someone a free shot?”

Despite everything, Alya couldn’t help giggling. “No, you don’t usually subscribe to the ‘that akuma needs to have a fair chance of killing me or else it’s not honorable’ school of thought. You’re more about wanting to win.”

“Damn right,” said Ladybug, which made Alya smile a little more. Ladybug returned a smile of her own, though it quickly faded. “So no, I’m not here to banish you. But I do want to talk to you. I need to know what you’re doing in Paris. And if you’ve…” She took a breath. “If you’ve done anything that, as a hero, I would need to correct.”

Alya nodded, but then something occurred to her. “You don’t seem surprised that I’m, uh, who I am,” she said. “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks,” Ladybug said. “Do you remember how Mayor Bourgeois signed that law to bulldoze that forest preserve and put up a shopping mall?”

“Yeah,” Alya said. 

“I knew that a local girl named Mylene cared a lot about saving the park, and I was worried that she might get akumatized once Bourgeois crushed her hopes,” said Ladybug. “I went to her and found her just in time to see one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies touch that pin in her hair. Before she actually got akumatized, though, I could see her trying to fight it off. And I could… sense, I guess… something helping her. Something was trying to keep her calm and urge her to fight off Hawkmoth’s promises.

“Whatever was helping her, it was able to keep her from giving in for long enough that I was able to get to her, smash the pin, and purify the akuma.” Ladybug shrugged. “She thanked me and said she felt better, but I could tell she was still a little tense, and that whatever was helping her was still influencing her. So I tried to follow that magic, and it led me to your apartment, where I looked in through the window to see… well, to see you, looking like that, holding a lilttle rainbow-colored ball and chanting something at it.”

Alya frowned as she thought back. “Wait a minute,” she said after a moment. “Two weeks ago, right? I remember. I was home when I saw her soul begin flashing red and vibrating, like something was attacking it. So I tried to calm it down.” Then, despite everything, a tiny smile spread across her face. “You’re saying I stopped her from being akumatized?” she said. “I didn’t even realize that was happening, but… I’m glad I was able to help.”

Ladybug nodded. “You did. But Alya, I need to know why. I talked to my kwami afterwards and she said this isn’t normal for demons; they don’t usually stop destruction in the human world unless there’s some ulterior motive. But you did stop her. So: why?”

Alya hesitated. “I mean, Mylene’s one of mine, you know? She’s in my cult and she’s my friend. I have to look out for her. I don’t usually like messing with my cult’s souls without their permission, but if one of them’s about to self-destruct, I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

“Why not?” pressed Ladybug. “Isn’t that why demons come to Earth? To lead humans astray, get them to sin, and ultimately take their souls to Hell?”

Alya’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Alya,” Ladybug repeated. “This is important. If there’s some weird demonic plot going on, then as the protector of Paris, I need to be aware of it so I can derail it.”

“I know, but… I don’t want you to think less of me,” said Alya softly. “You’re an amazing hero and a good friend.”

Ladybug smiled a little at that, then went to Alya’s side. “I don’t want to think less of you either,” she said. “And I promise you, whatever I think, it’s not going to be influenced by your species. So just be honest with me, Alya. Tell me everything.”

Alya paused, again torn. But she finally said, “Okay. I will.”

The two girls sat at the kitchen table and then Alya said, “When I first came to Earth, it was exactly like you said. My job was to collect souls and that’s all I cared about. I figured I’d just find people, tempt them, grab their souls, and move on. That’s what most demons do.”

“So what changed?” Ladybug asked.

Alya blushed a little. “You might think this is stupid, but I met someone. This girl in my class. Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Ladybug froze, though Alya didn’t understand why. She was pretty sure Ladybug knew Marinette; after all, Marinette had used the Mouse Miraculous once, which presumably meant Ladybug had given it to her. Then Ladybug shook her head. “What about Marinette?” she asked.

“She was so kind to me,” Alya said. “I was new to the human world, I didn’t have any friends or connections, but as soon as I got to school—that was my cover, I was a local student—she befriended me and helped me fit in. And… look, I know humans are nice to each other a lot, but in Hell, that never happens. Everyone’s always out for themselves. The only reason someone down there would help me is so I would owe them a debt or a favor. But Marinette was just so compassionate, so kind, and she genuinely didn’t care about being paid back.” Alya smiled a little dreamily. “She was amazing. And she made me want to… to be different.”

“Different how?” Ladybug asked, still seeming slightly stunned.

Alya shrugged. “She’s the kind of person who can… inspire people to live up to her example, I guess. At least, she inspired me that way. I loved her kindness, the way she so obviously cared for me and for others without worrying about herself, and I found that I wanted to be like that too. I wanted to keep feeling the way I felt when Marinette was kind to me, or when I was kind to her. And also, the idea of doing the standard demon thing, of using twisted magic to warp some innocent person into committing a heinous sin so I could seize their soul… it didn’t feel right anymore. It felt awful. Cruel. I couldn’t bear to be like that, not after having experienced real human kindness.” 

“So m—Marinette’s kindness helped convince a demon to stop tempting people?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah,” said Alya with a little chuckle. “Seriously, if you haven’t met her, you should. I think you two would be amazing friends.” Then Alya paused. “But, um, it wasn’t just Marinette. I don’t want to sound like a stalker or something. I made other human friends too and they also helped me be better.”

Ladybug seemed to shake herself, as if breaking out of a stupor. “So you don’t take souls for your bosses?” she asked.

“I do,” Alya admitted. “But only people who have already committed serious sins. Criminals and the like, especially the ones the police haven’t caught yet. I get their souls so I can fulfill my quota and stay up here on Earth, and I don’t mess with them too much. Mostly I just influence them so they won’t work with Hawkmoth by making them too despondent to respond to his summons, or too paranoid to trust his promises, or other things like that.”

Ladybug blinked. “Wait, that’s you?” she asked. “So that’s why Hawkmoth never worked with felons and why he’s just picking random people who happen to get mad one day! I would have figured they’d be the most likely to join him! That makes a lot more sense than my prior theory.”

“What was your prior theory?” Alya asked.

“That Hawkmoth is an idiot,” Ladybug said.

Alya couldn’t help giggling at that. “Well, he did summon Mr. Pigeon dozens of times, so that wasn’t a bad theory,” she joked. “The man is not as smart as he thinks.”

“Nope,” Ladybug agreed. “Seriously, I mean, the guy has total control over the powers he gives people, and yet half of them are useless. What was Reflektra even supposed to do? Make us look ridiculous while we kicked his butt? How does that help him?”

Both girls laughed before Ladybug brought the conversation back around. “If you’re really just targeting people who have already committed serious crimes—and making sure they don’t commit more—then that’s one thing,” she said. “But I do know you’re collecting the souls of others as well, like Mylene. Why is that?”

“To make sure other demons don’t get them,” Alya said. “I’m not the only one here. And I can’t tell you who the other demons are—literally, I’m under a demonic geas that will set me on fire if I say their names to someone who doesn't already know them—but I can tell you they’re a lot worse than me. The other demons have no problem at all with warping innocent people into Hellbound monsters. But if I get the souls of my friends first, the other demons can’t lay their claws on them.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug gave Alya a long look. “I imagine you had to trick these friends into losing their souls at first.”

“Yes,” Alya admitted. “Some made deals—Mylene wanted me to resurrect her pet ferret, for instance--but others, like Alix, lost bets or fell into a minor temptation I set up. I didn’t love doing that, but if I hadn’t, they’d be in the clutches of a far worse demon.” She shuddered at the thought of what Lila would have done. 

“Now that they know the truth,” Ladybug went on, “If these friends wanted their souls back so they could leave your cult, would you let them?”

Alya hesitated. “It hasn’t come up,” she admitted. “They aren’t hurt by losing their souls, except that they can’t go into churches or do a couple other ‘holy’ things. And I don’t use my power over their souls to make them worse. I try to help them when they ask for help, instead.”

“Even so,” Ladybug went on. “If Mylene went to you tomorrow and said she wants out, what would you do?”

Alya was tempted to just lie and say that of course she’d return Mylene’s soul, but she had a feeling Ladybug would be able to sense that. So instead she tried to give the question as much thought as she could to come up with her honest response. “I’d be worried about her, and I’d try to convince her otherwise,” she said. “But if Mylene was adamant, I’d give her soul back. Some demons treat their cults like slaves or prisoners, but I can’t do that.”

“Because Marinette would disapprove?” Ladybug asked.

“Not just that,” Alya said. “Maybe for the first few days after I met her, but I’ve moved past that. My ‘cult’ are my friends and I wouldn’t keep them against their will.” She let out a breath. “But again, it hasn’t come up. Honestly, I think they like knowing that if something goes really wrong and they become upset or angry, there’s someone looking out for them who can calm or polish their souls. Especially Chloe. Her mother is… not great, and Chloe has panic attacks when she’s around. She was really happy when I said I could monitor her soul and try to soothe it when her mother came to visit.”

Ladybug carefully considered that. “You wouldn’t mind if I didn’t just take your word for it, right?” she asked. 

“I can give you a list of the people in the cult,” Alya said. “You can ask them for yourself. Plus my high priestess Juleka; I don’t keep her soul on my shelf, since she’s got both warlock and paladin powers to defend it with—long story—but she'd be happy to talk to you about what I'm like.”

“Thanks,” Ladybug said.

The two were silent for a moment, and then Alya asked, “So… what now?”

“Well, now I need to talk to your cultists,” Ladybug said. “But assuming they verify what you said… I don’t see anything here that I’d need to banish you for. As far as I can tell, you really are trying to be a good a friend, and you’re doing a good job of it too. As long as you don’t take any innocent souls, and you don’t do anything abusive to your friends in your 'cult,' I don’t need to get involved.”

Alya felt a wave of relief rush through her. “Thank the Devil,” she breathed. “I’m glad.”

Ladybug smiled. “Out of curiosity, is being banished that bad?” she asked. “My kwami said it’s not permanent and you could come back once the spell wore off.”

“That could take centuries,” Alya said. “All the humans I knew would be dead by then. I couldn’t bear to lose them, especially Marinette.”

“Maybe you could see her after she dies,” Ladybug noted. “Her soul has to go somewhere, right?”

“It won’t go to where I’m from,” said Alya at once. “Seriously, I peaked at her soul once when I was sleeping over at her house and…” She smiled wistfully. “It was so incredibly pure… the purest I’d seen. No, she’s Heaven-bound for sure, and I won’t be able to see her once she dies because I’m not allowed up there. So I just… I want to make as much of my time on Earth with her, and all my other friends, as I can.”

Once again, Ladybug didn’t seem to know how to respond for some reason. Alya, though, thought of something else she really needed to say. “Speaking of Marinette,” she said. “I… look, I loved having the chance to help you fight Hawkmoth as Rena Rouge. I’d give anything to be able to do that again. But if you can’t trust me because of… of this…” She gestured at her horns and tail. “If you need a replacement, I’d suggest you look at her. The girl’s heart is so pure I can’t imagine Hawkmoth ever corrupting her, and not only is she strong, but she’s incredibly clever. Trust me, she’d be a great hero.”

Ladybug’s cheeks colored slightly. “Thank—I mean, I’m sure she’d thank you if she’d heard that,” she said. “But like I said, unless I learn that something you told me wasn’t true, I don’t see any reason to take your powers away from you. I’m happy to have your help in the battle against Hawkmoth. In more ways than one, apparently.” She smiled. “In fact, once you give me the list of the people whose souls you have, if I learn that one of them is getting upset or is likely to get mad about something, I hope it’s okay if I text you and ask you to check on their souls.”

“Of course,” said Alya at once. “Anytime you need.”

Ladybug nodded. “You’re a good friend, Alya,” she said. Then she turned on her heel before pausing. “Ah, one more question. You said you took your friend’s souls to protect them. Why not Marinette’s? You don’t have her soul, right?”

“No, I don’t,” said Alya. “I thought about it, because I know there’s other demons who would love nothing more than to corrupt someone as pure as her. But I…” She hesitated. “If I took her soul, she’d know what I really am. And I can’t bear the thought of her rejecting my friendship over that. She’s… she means a lot to me.”

“I see,” said Ladybug. “Well, I won’t spill your secret, but I’d encourage you to tell her. I know her pretty well, and trust me: she might surprise you.”

Alya smiled, though inwardly she wasn’t sure if even Marinette could be that tolerant. Still, though, Ladybug’s word had a lot of weight. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said at last. “And I’ll also keep a close eye on Marinette. I might not have her soul, but if I see demons moving to attack her I’ll do everything I can to hold them off. And I’ve got my paladin/warlock high priestess to help, plus this angel I know. We should be able to keep her safe.”

“An angel?” Ladybug repeated. 

Alya grinned. “Yeah. I know demons and angels aren’t supposed to get along, but this one’s cool.”

“I don’t suppose Marinette influenced her too?” Ladybug said in a teasing voice.

“Marinette seems to influence everyone for the better,” Alya said. “Marinette will never know it, but yes, I think the angel is happy to know her too.”

“Why won’t Marinette know it?” Ladybug asked. “Are angels not allowed to reveal themselves?”

“It’s more that they only do so if they’re smiting an evildoer, or if they need to save a human from temptation,” Alya said. But Marinette’s so pure that she’s not really in any danger of that, so I don’t think she’ll be getting any angelic intervention unless she spontaneously gets tempted to rob a bank or something.” She giggled. “Which really isn’t like her.”

Ladybug laughed too, though she seemed slightly disappointed for some reason. “I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you later, Alya. Thanks again for all that you do.”

Alya waved as Ladybug launched herself back out the window. Then, feeling a bit overwhelmed, she went back to her room to tell Juleka everything.

——

The next day, Alya found herself invited to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. “Hey, girl!” said Alya as she walked inside. “What’s up?”

“Alya!” Marinette said. She ran over and exchanged hugs with her best friend. “I just came up with some new pastries and I wanted you to be the first to try them!”

“Anytime!” said Alya. “What’cha got?”

Marinette took a few pastries off the shelf. “This one here is a Mexican chocolate cake,” she said. “I remember you saying you liked the spicier pastries, so I made it with a little cayenne pepper. Please, try it!”

Alya bit into the cake and grinned as the fiery sweet flavor danced over her tongue. “This is really good,” she said. “Seriously. And—“

“Oh, there’s also this other one,” said Marinette suddenly. She took down a donut. “I wanted to get back to my roots a little,” she said. “But I also wanted to make something you’d like. So this is a cinnamon donut with green and red chilis, the sort you find in Hunan cuisine.” She handed it over. “What do you think?”

Alya tried the donut and gasped, because it was possibly the best thing she’d ever tasted. The sweetness matched the peppers perfectly. “This is amazing,” she said. “Damn, girl, you know how to bake. Although, I thought you said you guys weren’t working too hard on developing spicy pastries because your parents didn’t think they’d sell well?”

“I’m going to prove Maman wrong about that,” said Marinette firmly. “Because people who enjoy spicier deserts should be able to get treats they love, just like anyone else. I’ll make spicy treats that are so good they sell just as well as everything else we’ve got.” 

Alya blushed. Marinette really was one of the kindest people around, she thought.

“Besides,” Marinette went on, “even if these didn’t sell, it’d still be worth making some for you. After all, you’re my best friend.” She moved closer to Alya. “You’re an amazing person and a wonderful friend,” she went on. “I don’t think anything could drive us apart.” She gave Alya a quick hug. “Maybe I don’t tell you that enough, but it’s true.”

“Um.” Alya wondered if Ladybug had maybe hinted to Marinette about some of the conversation they had. “Right back at’cha,” she said. “I think you’re a great friend too.”

Marinette smiled.  

Alya hesitated, on the verge of asking Marinette to go somewhere private so she could remove her demon veil… but she still didn’t feel quite confident enough. Someday, she thought. But not just then. “If I”m so great,” she said, “maybe you could let me have a few more of these?”

“Have the whole tray!” Marinette chirped. “But one thing in response: the concentration of chilis is slightly different in each one, so I need you to rank them. That way I know which one is the best one!”

“You’ve got it!” Alya grinned and reached for another donut. She was truly blessed, she thought, to have a friend like Marinette.

——

Later that evening, Marinette was in her room with Tikki, trying to relax after a long day of helping her parents in the bakery.

“I’m just saying, Tikki,” Marinette said quietly, though her voice was light and she was clearly joking. Well, mostly joking. “It would just be one bank. I might get to see an angel, and then I could give the money right back!!”

“No, Marinette,” said Tikki in a stern voice.

“It could be a bank owned by bad people!” Marinette went on. “It—“

“No, Marinette,” Tikki repeated.

Marinette smiled softly. “I guess you’re right. But I hope I get to meet that angel anyways.” She blushed. “I can’t believe that I convinced a demon to be good.”

“You’re a very special person, Marinette,” said Tikki. 

Marinette grinned before settling back on her bed. The idea of having helped to make Alya the amazing, compassionate warrior for good that she was… well, it was stunning. It made her feel really good. 

Of course, as Alya had explained, there might be such a thing as being too good. “What if it wasn’t a bank, but it was just some jerk like XY?” Marinette asked. 

“Marinette!” Tikki complained before tossing a pillow at her. “No sinning just to meet an angel!”

Marinette giggled. “I know,” she said. “Still, it’s fun to dream.”

Across the neighborhood, Alya was also dreaming. “Someday,” she promised herself as she thought of telling Marinette the truth. “I promise.”

“Hey, Alya,” called Juleka from across the room. “We’re about to start the show. You want in?”

“Sure!” Alya said. She scurried to the couch and slid down between Juleka and Mylene. And then she settled back to watch the show with some of her best friends in the world.

-------

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

I loved that thank you!

Just imagining this is how the akuma charms are made, via Alya being a smart cookie and smart soul user. That was just so delightful

[basicjetsetter]

The Rise of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Language, Adult Themes, Violence, +18 Smut (If you are under age, please do not read this).

♢ Word Count: 7.2k

☆ A/N: Okay, so I got a little carried away. This is such an indulgent mess, I love it to pieces. If you haven’t read The Fall yet, I suggest you read it before you get to this part. It takes a while to setup, but I promise it’ll be worth it.  Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading! (P.S. I like these two characters so much, I might just write some more moments for them).

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

You’re not a great poker player.

In fact, compared to Peter and even Rumlow, your skills are subpar at best. The idea of betting everything on chance rankled the very fibers of your being, and you never could quite remember which hands beat which. But you were excellent at reading people.

It’s how you became New York’s best attorney. That, and because you were sharper than most people assumed you were.

Exhibit A: Rumlow.

You have to give it to him, though. He was initially difficult to read.

Earlier in the game, you tried to gauge his tells as he demolished Peter. Everyone reacts when they have a good or bad hand, whether they’re aware of it or not. As an attorney, you study your clients, plaintiffs, and sometimes the theoretically impartial jury for their tells—how they react to damning information, or rather, how they choose not to react.

The truth is in their eyes. The way they hunch their shoulders. Touch their face. Purse their lips. Breathe. Everything is a tell.

Rumlow’s whole personality screams dominant knowing, and he strategizes that way. Like he’s seen your hand before you even pick up the cards.

He plays too smart. And when he’s drunk, it becomes all the more apparent.

The way he rubbed his bottom lip before bargaining the final bet, slow and methodical, sealed the game against him. It’s not much to go off of for some, but for you, it’s more than enough. It’s a nervous habit—the movement confirming that his hand isn’t crap, but it isn’t the best, either.

You glimpsed down at your hand, then back up to Rumlow with a pleasant expression.

No, you aren’t a good poker player. But Peter is.

“Save your time, sweetheart. Let’s just get this over with,” said Rumlow, leaning back in his chair. It creaked under his muscular weight. “Fold.”

You arched an eyebrow, then crossed one leg over the other, causing the hem of your dress to ride up and show a decent amount of skin. “Don’t I get to place a bet of my own? You know, just in case my hand is better.”

Rumlow’s eyes predictably feasted on your exposed skin before he dragged them back up to your face. “What makes you think your hand is gonna be better than mine?”

“Indulge me, Brock,” you nearly purred, internally gagging as Rumlow’s breathing became labored. “If you know your hand is better, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I just want to have a little fun.” 

Part of you is grateful that Peter is handcuffed in the back of a police car, not here to witness your attempt at seduction. You needed to do it while Rumlow is still drunk enough to fall for it.

Rumlow contemplated your words for a split second, eyes dipping down once more to relish the sight of your skin while his thumb repeatedly ran over the top of his cards. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

He finally said, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you have in mind?”

Saccharine venom oozed into your words as you held a charming smile. “When I win, you’re going to give me $20 million, all of your inventory and routes to Peter, and I want your promise that the Scorpions will no longer operate in New York. You can go be someone else’s problem.”

The smug light fizzled out of Rumlow’s eyes, and his mouth hardened into a flat line. “Not going to happen.”

“And why not?” you asked innocently. You’re having way too much fun with messing with Rumlow’s head. “What’s so different about my demand from yours?”

“You don’t think you’re asking for too much?”

You leaned forward, letting your eyes slowly roam over his face before settling on his dark eyes, loving the way it made him uneasy, then said matter-of-factly, “Not at all. If you want everything from Peter, then I want everything from you. Only seems fair. That is, of course, if you want to renegotiate your previous proposal…?”

Rumlow sat up in his chair, staring too hard into your face. Searching for a crack in your armor. He wasn’t going to find anything that wasn’t already there. You’re sincere and know next to nothing about manipulating a game of luck, and it showed all over your face, clear as day. He’s got nothing on you.

“What is this?” He looked around the room as if there were hidden cameras on the walls, looked at the clueless faces of people spectating the game.

Tony muttered, “Well, this was supposed to be a party, but I’d say we’re miles away from that—ouch!” He groaned as Pepper elbowed him in the ribs.

“What do you think this is?” you questioned him back using the same inflection.

Rumlow’s head snapped back to face you, his eyes practically pitch-black. “A fucking setup.”

“It’s just a game, Brock. That’s all it is.” You’re surprised at how serene you sound because your heart is leaping around in your chest, about ready to burst free and fly away from the excitement of it all, but you’re conscious enough to keep the surprise off your poker face. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He filled his lungs with a ragged breath, expelling it out of flared nostrils. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Strategized. “$25 million. Everything else stays the same. His routes. His connections. You.”

You nod once. “And you accept my wager?”

Rumlow begrudgingly nodded. His knuckles turned white from clenching his cards.

“On three, we show our hands,” you said and waited, giving him one last chance to object. He doesn’t; he just keeps his hawk-like stare trained on you.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

You both turn your cards over at the same time.

Rumlow’s hand shows a Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven, all clubs. Straight Flush.

Peter’s hand shows a King, Queen, Jack, Ten, and an Ace, all hearts. Royal Flush.

“Bullshit!”

Rumlow shot up from his chair, threw his cards to the floor, and snatched the gun from one of his men, aiming it at you.

Gasps filled the room, and you’re certain you heard Tony shout your name in alarm. Just as they’d done with Peter, the venue's guards raised their weapons at Rumlow and his men. 

You broke out into a fit of giggles. There were uncontrollable, bubbling from your lips and almost doubling you over. Maybe it was your nerves finally getting the best of you, or perhaps it was the dumbfounded shock on Rumlow’s face as he pulled a gun on you. Either way, you didn’t have a hope of taming them.

Rage intensified the crimson flush on Rumlow’s face. He barked out, “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

You struggled to pull it together. “Di-Did you honestly think you could beat Peter at poker, of all things? Seriously? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I knew you were dense, but geez.”

“He cheated. Ain’t no way he got that hand. Ain’t no fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, trying hard to stifle the giggles. “You said it yourself. Peter's a lucky son of a bitch.”

Rumlow took a minute to process the loss, eyes spacing out while the gun remained pointed at you. Your giggles died down as you sat patiently, drumming your fingers against your thigh and staring right back at the gun, uninterested. He wouldn’t shoot you. Not if he valued his life.

If Peter were here, you knew he’d be proud. Furious, yet proud.

At last, the arrogance returned to Rumlow’s smile, and he scoffed, “Congratulations, I guess. But um, I don’t really have to give you anything, you know. All bets have been word of mouth, nothing written down.”

Your smile never faltered. “Don’t do that, Brock. That isn’t how this works, and you know it. You were fully expecting Peter to hand me over to you with a nice, shiny gift bow taped to my ass and $25 million. Right? Or are you pointing a gun at me just because you feel like it?”

Rumlow shrugged with one shoulder. A hint of his anger traced his features before it faded back into an impassive mask.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you shit.”

You sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. Be that way. But this is how it’s going to play out, regardless. You have three choices.” You ticked them off on your fingers. “One: You give me what I won and leave New York. Two: I sue your ass until you have nothing. Three: You get to deal with Peter. That last one won’t bode out too well for you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, snickering. “And what you gonna sue me for, sweetheart? Gambling?”

Your eyes firmed into a severe gaze as you spoke. “I had a nice little chat with Miss Shuri Udaku earlier.”

The dark look passed over his eyes again. A thick mask of indifference tried to hide his culpability before you could spot it, but you didn’t even need to see it in his face. The guilt in his tightened shoulder blared like a blinking neon sign.

Bullseye.

You forged on. “Now, if what Shuri told me is true, which, guessing by the look on your face, it must be, you’re in deep shit. And I’ll take an educated guess and presume she isn’t the only one you’ve…spoken with.”

You paused for him to defy your assumption. He remained silent, his jaw grinding.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you inquired with a faux mask of concern. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Rumlow’s eye twitched as he lowered the gun. Defeat heavy in his furrowed brows. “I’m gonna make you pay for this. You and him.”

“Just be sure to run me my money, first,” you said. A sly smirk curled up the corner of your mouth. “I want the whole amount by tomorrow, and I want you out of this state by the end of the week, got it?”

A snarl rumbled in his chest. “Got it.”

“Good,” you smiled brilliantly. “Now get your ass out of here. And take the Dynamic Duo with you.”

Everyone lowered their weapons as Rumlow and his two shadows stomped out of the Terrace Room. You watched their backs until they were no longer in your eyesight. It’s over. You won. A rise of applause swelled after the threat ultimately left the room, catching you off guard as you moved to retrieve Peter’s cards from the ground. You curtsied for them and offered a humbled grin.

A rush of adrenaline is humming through your veins, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You’re positive you could scale the Empire State Building without so much as a harness, just running on pure pent up energy. Maybe you should do this kind of stuff more often.

Steve was the first to come up to you, confusion laced in his blue eyes. “We’re letting him go? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“He pointed a gun at you!”

You brusquely scanned your unscathed body. “No harm, no foul, Lieutenant Rogers.”

“Jesus, you and that kid are a match made in Heaven,” Steve mumbled, shaking his head in shock.

“Wouldn’t be marrying him if we weren’t. And thank you for reminding me…” You trailed off, heading in the direction of Tony and Pepper.

You had to tell Tony the truth about you and Peter before your nerve wore off, or else you’d never find the courage to ever say it straight to his face. Even as you trudged over to him, a leaden ball of anxiety smothered your chest.

Shuri sprang at you without warning, tightly hugging you and jumping up and down as she squealed, “That was so awesome! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you said mirthfully.

“It was everything! That man’s been breathing down my neck for months about those weapons. I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing him. I can’t thank you enough.” As you broke apart, she handed you an embossed card. “If Peter is interested, I would love to have a meeting with him. Maybe we could all catch lunch.”

“He is definitely interested. I’ll be sure he calls you,” you assured, beaming her a friendly smile.

She nodded in agreement then waved her goodbyes, walking away to find her companions.

Everything always falls right into place for Peter.

You shook your head in awe as you made your way over to Tony and Pepper again, this time scanning your surroundings to ensure no one else ambushed you. Once you were close enough, they both threw their arms around your shoulders and pulled you into a protective embrace. 

“We’re so glad you’re okay, sweetie,” said Pepper as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back.

“Don’t you ever pull something like that again, you hear me?” Tony chastised, his tangible relief choking up your throat. He pulled away to look into your eyes thoroughly. “I almost had a heart attack watching that. How could you just stare at the guy as he held a gun to you? You didn’t flinch or anything. I swear you’re turning into a different person right before my—”

You blurted out, “I’m marrying Peter.”

Tony blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, the floodgates bursting open as you spilled everything.

“He proposed three months ago, and I said yes because I am in love with him, Tony. I am in love with Peter Parker, and I know you hate his guts because of what he does, but I don’t care. And…” you stopped, sucking in a deep breath to steady your trembling words. “And I don’t care if me loving him means you hating me. You’re like a father to me, and I respect you, but I won’t continue to let you badger me about being with Peter.”

Tony interjected, “Woah, woah, woah, pump the brakes. Where did you get the idea that I’d ever hate you for being with Parker?”

Both you and Pepper raised an eyebrow at Tony, a universal look that easily translated to Your words said it all.

“Alright, sure, I never really liked the kid. He’s this devious little mastermind who circumvents the law to get what he wants and somehow even got you. But I can hate him and still love you, hon.”

You coughed up a laugh partly because of your relief and partly because of how ridiculous Tony was. “I want you to tolerate him at least. That means no more bringing up the fact that I am his Personal Attorney, no more threats of arrest, and no more nicknames.”

Tony sighed and said, “Okay to the first two, but I can’t make any promises for the nicknames. Baby-faced Criminal has a nice ring to it.”

Your smile brightened. “Deal.” You stepped back into his hug, pressing your face against his shoulder and exhaling. Finally, having the truth out in the open felt like releasing a breath you held in for three long months.

You heard Tony add, “ ‘Sides, I already knew you were engaged.”

“What?” you screeched, stepping back. “What do you mean you already knew?!”

“First of all, ouch,” Tony groused as he rubbed at the ear you accidentally screamed in. “Second of all, Pepper is not really that great at hiding wedding preparations as she thinks she is. And Parker came to me about four months ago.”

You’re so shocked you forgot to breathe, involuntarily pulling in a long drag of air as it dawned on you that your tormented lungs screamed for oxygen. “What—what do you mean Peter came to you?”

“Your young man thought it proper to ask me for my blessing before popping the big question, and I may have expressly told him to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle.” At your expression, he quickly added. “Well, he didn’t!”

“It’s just—He never told me that he asked.” You omitted the part where Peter held your refusal to tell Tony about the engagement against you. Tony wouldn’t understand Peter’s motives any more than you could. But you were going to make him explain himself. 

A brief impression of chagrin flashed in Tony’s eyes. “I admit I wasn’t that forthcoming about it. He probably thought it’d be better to keep it to himself than tell you I said no.”

That’s not what it was, but you hummed in agreement anyway.

“Welp, my party mood’s long gone,” Tony stated, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie. “Anybody else up for some Shawarma?”

| Next Morning  |

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

One of the guards, a new hire with a tag reading Lang, shadowed you as you walked out of the detention center’s lobby and into the bustling dayroom, then up to Peter’s cell. An untrained eye wouldn’t notice the guard’s careful proximity, and an untrained ear wouldn’t hear his trepid footsteps. You knew better. 

Your fiancé is many things, and cautious just happens to be a large part of his make-up. None of the inmates lounging around the dayroom dared to glance your way, not because of the authoritative figure trailing behind you, but because of Peter and his imposing rap-sheet. 

While Lang’s presence was somewhat reassuring on your way around the crowded cells, you didn’t need the security detail. You weren’t afraid of anyone in this facility. The moment you propositioned to be his attorney, he should’ve known you weren’t one to be easily rattled.

When you stood in front of Peter’s cell door, Officer Lang moved up close enough to smack the door twice, then placed the key in the lock. As the heavy metal door swung open, you weren’t sure what you might see. 

He’s been away from the action, holed up in here all night. A tiny part of you expected Peter to be pacing the floor, running his hands through his hair and wringing them together in distress, beads of sweat trickling down his neck as he counted the seconds to your arrival. You wondered what it would be like to witness God panicking.

What you saw made you smile. Peter, sitting on his squalid mattress with his body propped up against the wall, his eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar, is sound asleep. Some of his brown curls are slightly lying over his forehead, giving him the perfect air of innocence.

Lang took a half step through the door, poked his head in the room, and loudly sang, “Wakey, wakey, Parker! You’re sprung.”

Peter jolted up from his position, looking around as if he forgot his bearings. The moment his eyes landed on yours, a sly smirk slid onto his lips, and the air of innocence vanished.

“Took you long enough.”

He got up from his bed with a low groan, stretching out the kinks in his neck. His dress shirt from last night is has a few more buttons open, exposing his black undershirt, and his shoes are in the corner of the room. The guards didn’t bother giving him a change of clothes because they knew he’d be out in less than 24 hours.

“I could always leave you in here, Mr. Parker,” you said, a small, teasing smile playing at your lips.

Peter grinned back at you, then retrieved his shoes. Lang stood against the wall like a statue, head forward and hands crossed in front of him. 

When he was out of the cell, and Lang locked the door behind him, Peter addressed Lang. “She can take it from here, Scott.”

And just like that, Lang’s stoic face melted into a rueful grin as he mockingly saluted Peter and walked off, leaving the two of you alone. 

Your mouth gaped for approximately two seconds before you caught on. “You hired him to play pretend-cop?”

“Oh no, Scott works here.” Peter slipped his shoes on and unbuttoned the rest of his dress shirt’s buttons. “He just also happens to work for me while working here.”

You wanted to ask how many Scotts he had in this facility but thought against it, deciding to quietly lead him out of the dayroom and into the lobby. No one acknowledged your departure. Every single one kept their heads down and tended to business as usual. 

Peter’s driver, Flash, leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Once he saw you both approach, he stamped it out and immediately opened the back seat door for you and Peter.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, always overly cheerful.

Peter clapped Flash on the shoulder and said, “Hey, man. How you doing?”

“Good, sir. Thank you for asking.”

“Dude, we talked about this. Stop calling me ‘sir’ so much. It’s getting weird.”

Flash automatically nodded, saying, “Right, sorry about that,” before closing the door behind Peter. He’d call Peter ‘sir’ again by tomorrow.

Peter groaned in instant satisfaction as he sank into the leather seat. It’s a low and throaty sound, and you felt its vibrations all the way to your core, leaving a flustered mess for longer than you’re proud to say. Two years you’ve been with this man, and the lust hasn’t dimmed.

Peter got right to the point. “So, how’d it go?”

You smirked contentedly, flattening your hands across the lap of your pencil skirt. “You are $20 million richer. And you have the Scorpions’ trading routes and connections, along with a guarantee eviction by the end of the week.”

“20 million… Damn, baby, I knew you were a hustler, but that’s in-fucking-sane!” Peter whooped, turning in his seat to face you fully. His face radiated with excitement. “I bet Rumlow’s pissed.”

“Oh, yeah. He was pissed, alright. He tried renegotiating, then tried to worm out of it. It was fun to watch him squirm.” You’d never mention the part where Rumlow pulled a gun on you to Peter. Not because you cared for Rumlow’s safety in any way, but because you’ve seen how Peter reacts when someone threatens his loved ones, and you never want him to go down that dark tunnel again.

Peter leaned his head against the headrest and wistfully said, “Wish I could’ve been there. Stark didn’t give you a hard time for gambling, did he?”

The topic shift smacked you with the remembrance of what happened last night, what Tony had said. It shouldn’t have kept you up all night, but you tossed and turned with the nagging fact that Peter both hid his confrontation with Tony and had the nerve to pester you about not telling Tony something that he already knew.

For a while, you stayed up wondering why Peter even brought it up at dinner. What was his purpose? Why act cold towards you if there wasn’t a reason? Or was it even an act? Did he genuinely resent you that much for being anxious about telling Tony? Would you ever see that side of Peter again? So indifferent, so cruel. So quick to discard you.

The rest of the night, you replayed over and over how he ignored you, how he minimized you. That wasn’t part of the plan. Most of what happened before the cards got into your hands played out unexpectedly, and you understood why that had to be at some degree, but the ambiguity of it all ticked you off. Did he not trust you?

When he dismissed you, you actually thought about leaving him there alone. Was that not real?

That ache in your chest was real.

“Babe?” Peter waved his hand in front of your face. “Babygirl? What’s wrong? What’d I say?”

You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his. They strayed to your lap, refusing to move even as Peter hesitantly took hold of your chin with his thumb and index finger. He emphatically called your name a few times, worry intensifying more and more as an unspecified amount of time passed. Peter never dropped his hand. His thumb caressed your chin while he waited for you to speak, knowing you would.

The desire to verbalize took longer than you expected. There just didn’t seem to be a right way to say what was weighing on your mind. Outright confronting him with only inference to go off of felt childish, but so did beating around the bush. You ultimately chose to address the subject of your silence.

In a tense voice, you said, “Tony told me that you asked for his permission to marry me.”

About thirty seconds ticked away. Peter sighed, “Are you upset that I didn’t tell you?”

You nibbled on your lower lip, then brought your eyes up to meet his. Mild concern drowns his warm brown eyes, somehow increasing their depth, and frown lines creased his forehead. If this were one of your typical squabbles and he stared at you with those damn eyes, you’d have been a goner.

“No.” You shook your head to clear the effect of his gaze. “I’m upset that you asked Tony and then proceeded to act like I had an obligation to tell him something you already told him. And then you got so mad about it last night…” you trailed off in a whisper, recalling his restrained animosity, something you never thought you’d experience with him.

“I wasn’t actually mad,” he rushed.

“So you were pretending?” You asked lamely, feeling the ghost of last night’s ache lash around in your chest. “All that wasn’t real? Ignoring me? Snatching your arm away from me? Dismissing me?”

He insistently shook his head, brown curls swaying across his forehead. “None of it.” 

To you, the truth is almost as bad as the lie.

“It felt real to me.” Your voice sounds so small, it’s humiliating. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, severing the eye contact again. “The fact that you couldn’t just tell me that that’s what you were doing beforehand makes me feel like… like you don’t trust me. Like you’re willing to sacrifice my feelings for some stupid game. Like I’m a pawn.”

“Fuck,” Peter cursed, running a swift hand through tousled his hair. “No, baby, that’s not it. Come ‘ere.” 

Peter reached over the divider and pulled you into his lap despite your attempt to scoot away. You didn’t want him holding you, consoling you because even if you tried your hardest to resist him, an irrational part of your brain would immediately relent to his closeness.

You stiffened at the touch of his hand rubbing small circles on your lower back, then loudly to clear your throat. “What is it, then?” You spoke to him as if he were one of your clients. Professional. Distanced. But you couldn’t look into those eyes.

“I was giving you an alibi,” he confessed, not fazed by your tone. “In case anything went wrong. We needed to look distant so Rumlow wouldn’t catch on to how coordinated everything was.”

Okay, that’s nowhere near the answer you were expecting. Because, of course Peter would come up with a convoluted explanation that only made sense to him. Irritation rose in you like a brewing storm as you peered straight into his eyes, ignoring the visceral pull as they locked on you.

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m a grown-ass woman who can handle shit by herself? I didn’t need a fucking alibi, Peter,” you said, indignation souring your tone. “What, did you think I was going to fuck up that bad?”

“No,” said Peter firmly. When you scoff, he persists. “I mean it. I was just—I was just trying to look out for you.” He held your chin again, applying a slight amount of pressure to keep your eyes on him. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, and I love that about you. Sometimes, though, I want to be there for you as much as you’re there for me, if not more.”

You stubbornly held your tongue. You’re not going to cave with a simple apology… no matter how sincere it sounded.

Peter leaned in closer, poorly hiding his smirk as he heard your breath hitch while his lips skimmed up your neck. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “I apologize for not considering your feelings.” He placed a tiny kiss on the crook of your neck, trailing the tip of his nose against your jawline. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark.”

An undeniable heat flickered to life within you, building as Peter’s actions grew enticingly bold. The pads of his fingers glide up and down your stocking-clad thighs, and each motion brought his hands down further and further until his whole, warm palms flattened down to massage your calves and thighs. Unknowingly, you inclined your neck to allow him to access a larger expanse of your skin.

Any resolve you cemented against Peter crumbled as a pair of lips outlined the shell of your ear. His voice comes out hoarse when he speaks, hoarse and deliberate. “I trust you with everything I have. You know that, don’t you?” His lips hover dangerously near yours.

You exhaled out a breathy, “Yes.” You do know that. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to hold those cards but you, wouldn’t trust anyone else bargaining with his assets but you.

Peter held your lowered gaze steady as he hooked his hands under your thighs and hoisted you up so you fully straddled him, your pencil skirt elastic enough to permit marginal movement. A low whine emitted from your throat as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, then pulled away to stare at you, using the full force of his immorally brown eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

It’d be as simple as sin to whimper out a pathetic affirmative and let him off scot-free. Excruciatingly simple. You knew he meant every word, and you were glad he let you express your anger before apologizing. You wanted to forgive him. But your mind currently wasn’t on the same circuit as your mouth, refusing to utter a single word, wondering where that would get you.

“Hmm,” Peter hummed pensively, contemplating while a predatory grin crept onto his lips. “Guess I gotta work for it, then.”

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Your back arched up off the bed, and you toss your head back as you gutturally cried out Peter’s name for the fourth time.

The moment you two entered the house, Peter was on you, guiding you to the bedroom with his lips attached to yours and his hands groping your backside. His hands never left your body, and once they did, it was only to tear off his clothes. You weren’t sure what you signed up for, but something glinting in Peter’s eyes, an erotic passion you’ve encountered several times in your relationship, bespoke of an intense afternoon headed your way.

Before you could even guess what that might entail, you were lying on your back in the middle of the bed, and Peter was parting your legs open.

Currently, his grip on your bucking hips remains vice-like as he keeps his face planted between your quaking thighs, still lapping up the rest of your orgasm and staring you dead in the eyes with wicked lust.

Each time he made you cum, he’d huskily ask, “You forgive me?” The first time, you were cheeky, shaking your head with a tiny pout on your lips and eagerly wiggling your hips and tugging on the silky strands of his hair for more. The second time, your body ached wonderfully, and you lazily nodded your acceptance of his apology, but he didn’t stop, tightening his hold on the swells of your hips and delving his tongue through your silken folds. By the third time, you were religiously chanting, “I forgive you,” grasping the sheets for dear life as Peter solely sucked on your clit and salaciously groaned into your core.

On the fourth orgasm, your whole body is aflame, your fingers are desperately clutching Peter’s wrists, and you’re a blissed-out, gibbering mess with tears of ecstasy streaming out the corners of your eyes.

“You forgive me?” Peter rasped, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. He alternately kissed your inner thighs, sometimes gently sucking the skin until he left stinging love bites.

Knowing words were well beyond your reach, your jerkily bobbed your head up and down, gulping in air to calm your heaving chest.

A whine of relief breaks free when Peter finally lets go of your hips and leads a sloppy trail of kisses up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, along your neck, your jawline, until he claims your lips in a sensually slow kiss, one that stole away your regained breath. You mewled into it, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair. He lowered his body on top of yours, deliciously suffocating you with his body heat and his scent—an intoxicating aroma of smoky spice you only associate with Peter.

Your brain treads on a fine line near oblivion. All your mind can comprehend is Peter. His soft little grunts in your mouth, his toned chest brushing against yours, his hardened cock against your stomach as he ruts into you.

“I want you,” you panted, wanton need thick in your voice. You’re entirely spent, but you couldn’t help but crave more of Peter, couldn’t help but want him to thoroughly build you up only to tear you down all over again. 

Peter teasingly nipped at your lips, mumbling, “Where do you want me?”

You let out an impatient, low-pitched groan. “Inside me, baby. Please, Peter.” Your hips angled up on their own accord, grinding your dripping core against his cock. “Please, fuck me.”

His eyes rolled back, mouth slightly agape, and his face pinched in pleasure—what a pretty sight. Your eyes drank him all in. You loved the way he squinches up his eyes, almost as if all the sensations are too much to process. You loved how the flush creeping up his neck turned his skin a lovely scarlet. You loved watching him try to be attentive to you while being so engrossed in his own bliss.

Unhurried, Peter took himself in his hand, then slid his length through your folds before guiding his tip to your entrance. He always liked to draw this moment so he could hear the desperate noises you’d make for him. Your whole body sang out for him, from the broken moans spilling from your lips to the constant, stuttering pitch in your hips. 

At an agonizingly slow pace, Peter slid inside of you, hissing out a drawn-out Fuck. You jumped and gasped at the slight sting as he stretched you out, gripping onto his biceps and clenching around him as the sting built up to a toe-curling burn of ecstasy. 

He stroked into you with painstaking emphasis, hitting a deep spot within you that brought stars to your vision while capturing your lips in a blistering kiss. Your hands held his face as the kiss deepened, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths in carnal abandon. Yeah, it definitely tops the sex you had on the night he proposed.

Peter broke the kiss to dip his head down and favor the skin on your neck. His voice is a low murmur when he speaks, barely louder than your gasping breaths. “You forgive me?”

You practically sob out, “Yes! Yes, baby, I forgive you.” The flames are multiplying, licking up from your lower region and engulfing you as his strokes rock steadily. 

“You know you’re my everything,” he grunted, sucking down hard on your skin and laving it with his tongue after you yelp his name.

Your heart flutters as you moan, “Yes.”

“Say it, baby,” Peter mumbled, an undercurrent of firmness in his voice. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m your everything.” The things this man does to you…

“Good girl.” Peter’s hand wedged between your entwined bodies, reaching down to rub your overstimulated clit, watching the tremors shaking through your body as your mouth hung open in a silent moan. “I want you to remember that,” he ordered. “You’re my everything, and I’m sorry I”—grunt—“Fuck, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He carefully collects you in his arms before rolling over and putting you on top, wrapping his arms around your back so your bodies remain pressed together. Some of your twists cascade on either side of Peter’s face, but he doesn’t mind, keeping his head buried in the crook of your shoulder as he pumped up his hips, deeply thrusting into you. 

“You feel so good, babygirl,” Peter said roughly, his hips picking up into a bruising speed. “So wet for me.” His hands slide down your back and squeeze your ass. “Always take me so well.”

All you could manage were needy, shameless whimpers in response as his dirty words, his scorching touch, his soft lips, his slick body against yours all sent you reeling towards a rapturous release. Every stroke brings you closer to the edge, and you know Peter isn’t far behind.

With some effort, you drag yourself up to sit on Peter’s cock and brace your hands on his chest, lolling your head back as the new angle allowed him to hit a deeper spot within you.

Peter admired you through half-lidded eyes. “So fucking beautiful.”

You mustered up a beaming smile for Peter, then set your focus on riding him with the little energy you had left, slowly bouncing up and down on his thick length and loving the quick hitch in Peter’s breath as you took control. You wanted to see him writhe underneath you as he came inside you, wanted to see his pretty lips part as he called out your name. You’re so close, it’s maddening, but you’re waiting for Peter to fall off the edge with you. 

As soon as Peter’s hips began to chase yours in a broken pattern and a repeated mixture of your name and fucks streamed out of his mouth, your climax slammed into you, slightly choking you up as you came with a high-pitched, quivering gasp and cried out, “Peter!”

Peter’s crashed down on him with the same force. His hips stalled for an instant before jerking up into you one last time, your name tumbling from his lips in a hoarse groan as he filled you with his hot, sticky cum. It feels as if you’re riding the wave of your orgasm for hours, and you blissfully drown in it. Savor it. Bask in the absolute pride of knowing that this man is yours and yours alone even though you have yet to seal it with the promise of ‘for as long as you both shall live.’

The comedown is a sluggish process, like trying to swim the length of a 10-foot pool of honey. Your heart rate is the first to slow down into a stable rhythm, then the raucous hum singing in your body simmers down to a delicious buzz whose sole purpose is to remind you of the five breathtaking orgasms Peter drew out of you. Every part of your body aches when you merely think about moving, so you cave and slump onto Peter’s torso, eliciting an amused oomph from Peter as he wraps an arm around your waist. When he pulls out of you, his cum smears a sticky trail in between your thighs.

Peter brushes away some of your twists from your face to press a gentle kiss to your perspired forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you echo back, leaning up a little to peck his jawline. You snuggle up closer so your head rested on his shoulder. “And I really do forgive you. Your intentions were pure, and I know you were just trying to protect me.” You reach up and grab his chin, making him look into your eyes. “But I want your complete trust, Peter. Trust that I can handle things on my own.”

“From this point on, you have my whole trust,” Peter promised. He took hold of your hand, entwined your fingers together, and then put your hands over his heart. Its slow thud matched yours. “You have my word. No more alibis.”

You laughed tiredly. “Thank you.”

For a while, you two just stayed in each other’s embrace, your eyes falling as Peter’s finger lazily traced an infinity sign around your knuckles. You’re still buzzing, and you know you should roll out of bed to wash up, but you try to save these soft moments in your memory, to help remind you of the kind man who can be, at times, too cruel for words. That’s when he’s Deus. Right now, he’s your Peter.

Seconds away from succumbing to sleep, a thought occurs to you, and you quietly ask, “Hey, babe?”

Peter sounds wide awake. “Yeah?”

“Did Tony literally tell you to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle when you asked him for his approval?”

He snickered. “I believe his exact words were, ‘Go to hell, Parker. Better yet, why don’t you do us all a favor and take a swim in the Bermuda Triangle, and become a cold case?’”

Geez, Tony. You bit your lip. “And you still asked me to marry you anyway, even though he didn’t approve?”

“I was going to, regardless,” Peter murmured, and you could hear a smile in his words. “I just wanted to try and, you know, see if I could make you a little happier. Me and Stark bump heads a lot, and I saw how it upset you, so I thought asking him for his permission would get us on the right track to some sort of civility. Wanted it to be a surprise if he did say yes.”

Unexpected tears gathered in your eyes, and your chin wobbled. He tried for you. Had been trying for you. He even noticed how his and Tony’s bouts caused you to be anxious about your future together and tried to mend the stupid rift between them, for your sake. You aren’t going to lie and say that you’re glad Tony refused. You wished with your whole heart that he could clearly see how much you loved Peter. But, from now on, you’re no longer going to be scared of what Tony thinks of Peter. You love him, and he most certainly loves you, and that’s all that matters.

You scooch up a little more and capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He’s only caught off guard for a second before kissing back, wrapping both of his arms around your waist. When Peter felt the wet tear tracks on your cheeks, he brought up his hands and wordlessly wiped them away.

As you pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his and said, “I can’t wait to marry you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter lightly rubbed the tip of your nose with his, replying, “I’m already yours, Mrs. Parker.”

[ichigo-daifuku]

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil [3]

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Pairing: Diavolo/F!Reader Genre: Soulmate AU, Fake Relationship (?), Misunderstandings, Fluff, Angst, Smut

Synopsis: During a confrontation between Diavolo and a certain witch who harbors unrequited feelings for him, he declares his intention to ask you to stand beside him in reigning over the Devildom someday. You conclude only one logical explanation for the insanity he uttered: this is his way of discouraging the witch from being so persistent. Although clueless, you play along and become ‘lovers’ with him.

Inevitably, your existing attraction for Diavolo grows, but the distinction between truth and lies, the crisscrossed lines of the right and the wrong, and the question of what’s real and what isn’t, begin to plague your mind and stir up trouble for your relationship with him with each passing day.

Entangled within the woven threads of soulmates and a royal prophecy, this is the story of the Demon Prince and his future Queen: you.

1 | 2 | 3 Chapter 3: Speak No Evil Word Count: 5.6k

“Welcome, my lady.”

The staff at the Demon Lord’s Castle greeted you with dutiful bows. If they were surprised at the punctuality of your arrival, they showed no signs of it and ushered you inside. As per your previous visits, they were all cordial. Most of them even looked excited, and you felt a pang of guilt for deceiving them all this time.

Originally, the demon brothers had planned for your grand arrival with all seven of them escorting you to the ballroom. Due to your change of plans, however, you made excuses and admitted you had matters to discuss with Diavolo before the celebratory ball, intentionally leaving out any specifics. You persuaded them by divulging your plan of handing Diavolo the baked goods you prepared as a gift. In the end, the demon brothers reluctantly relented. You patted yourself on the back for remaining firm despite your gratitude for the Seven Rulers of Hell. It was a difficult feat to accomplish.

The day after your conversation with Solomon, you headed to town and purchased an outfit for the celebratory ball on your own rather than using those hanging on the racks of the prophesied Queen’s closet at the Demon Lord’s Castle. It was the first step in your departure from your role as the faux Queen. While browsing at one of your favorite boutiques, you found a red embroidered evening gown that completely covered your back and was zipped from the side. It was simpler than any of the formalwear in the Queen’s closet, but it wasn’t as if you would be at the party to impress anyone nor enjoy yourself.

It would be the last time you would pretend to be Diavolo’s other half. After this event, everything would be over.

A bittersweet feeling flooded your chest, but when you looked back at the moments you shared with Diavolo, you were unable to deny the truth to yourself: you’d do it all again if you could.

Your high heels click-clacked on the polished floor as you approached Diavolo’s study. Before anything else, you peeked inside and only entered the room once you found it empty. You shut the door and went over to his desk. The kisses you shared with him the other day were still fresh in your mind. In a span of a few days, your circumstances with him had completely changed. It was strange to stand in the same place with that realization gnawing at your gut.

Gingerly, you set the pastry box on Diavolo’s table, pulled a sticky note from his tall stack, and wrote a short thank you note for him. A small sense of finality washed over you as you signed your name and placed it on the box. It was cowardly of you to give him your gift like this, but once you’d told him you’d end this charade with him, he might decline it. You were already hurting, and as much as possible, you wanted to lessen the impact of his rejection.

After leaving his study and roaming around the castle, Diavolo remained nowhere in sight. You took a wild guess and went to the gazebo, a tinge of dread in your steps when you found out you were right. As tall and regal as he was during the first time you saw him, he stood and gazed at the lake, its tranquility one with its beholder.

“Diavolo,” you called.

“Hello there.” He turned his head to look at you, his lips breaking into a smile. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you replied and moved forward, taking in the sight of him in formalwear. “You look great, as always.”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s the truth.” Once you reached the gazebo, you stayed at the threshold, ready to leave once you had said what you needed to tell him. “By the way, I left something for you in your study.”

“A gift?”

“That’s right. Some pastries. I baked them myself.”

“Let’s eat them together later. We can have our own after-party.”

“No, I made them for you. And we’ll get full at the banquet, won’t we?”

“There’s always room for dessert.” He laughed at his own quip and gestured over the lake. “Why don’t you stand beside me? The view is quite splendid.”

“It’s fine. I can admire it from afar.” Unwavering, you remained rooted at your spot. The lake was majestic, but it wasn’t what you were here for tonight. You hid your shaky hands behind your back and fiddled with your fingers, taking a deep breath as you returned your complete attention to Diavolo. “I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

“You can tell me anything, my princess.”

“I’m sorry, Diavolo,” you said, “but let’s end this.”

A long pause passed before he clarified with uncertainty, “The party?”

“Not that. I meant this—whatever’s between us—let’s end it.”

“What? Why? Have I done something to displease you?” Diavolo interrogated, his entire demeanor shifting into a panicked one. He stepped closer to you, but you retreated and exited the gazebo entirely. It dawned on him: his pursuit would cause you to fall further back. A grim expression on his face, he came to a halt and demanded, “Tell me.”

“No, Diavolo. Far from it,” you confessed with a sad smile. “You’re the Prince of the Devildom, and you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

“If so, then what’s the problem?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“And?”

And? That’s all he has to say? you thought bitterly, hurt your confession warranted such a lackluster reaction. “I can’t keep doing this when there’s someone else meant to be by your side.”

Diavolo stiffened. “Someone… else…?”

“Yes. I can’t pretend to be the Queen in the prophecy anymore. I love you. A lot. And it’s hurting me, so please, let’s end this.”

Instead of replying, Diavolo kept quiet.

Unable to take his silence any longer, you averted your gaze and proceeded to wrap up the conversation. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’ll attend the party. You’re free to clarify this tonight or I can pretend to be your Queen one last time, whichever works for you. But please make sure to clear up the misunderstanding in the future.”

“You’re under the impression,” he paused and let out a laugh in an icy tone you’d never heard from him before, “that we’re pretending to be together?”

Chills ran down your spine. The question he uttered made you more nervous than you ever were tonight. Diavolo’s deep voice dripped with realization, incredulity, but most of all, rage.

You were in trouble.

“You’re right. There’s been a misunderstanding.” He let out a menacing laugh and strode in your direction. Instinctively, you attempted to put space between the two of you, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him, wrapping both of his arms around your waist so quickly you didn’t have the chance to step away and flee. “All the times you said you were happy, whenever you told me you were looking forward to seeing me, when you agreed we looked like a great couple, you weren’t lying.”

“I wasn’t,” you acknowledged, your tense body gradually going lax at his touch. The familiar scent of his cologne made your mind hazy as you breathed in. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I might have pretended to be your lover, but I’ve been true to you. That’s why we have to end this.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Diavolo bent his head and whispered in your ear, “I never lie, did you know?”

You didn’t.

His words prompted your head to swirl with scenes of your interactions, one of them standing out among the rest.

“So, that day… when Maddi confronted us about the prophecy,” you paused, your eyes wide as you tilted your head to meet his gaze, “y-you meant every word you said?”

“Yes, you’re the one for me. The only one,” he declared, embracing you tighter. “Shall I prove it to you?”

Once the question left his lips, Diavolo’s eyes glowed, and the next thing you knew, the sights around you shifted from the gazebo to the Queen’s closet. He refused to let you go, and you were faintly aware you were in the corner of the room as your hips nudged the wooden edge of the grand vanity table. Fortunately, the surface was vacant since all the cosmetics remained in the drawers, or else they would have already toppled on the floor.

Diavolo asked, “Do you know what’s on your back?”

“How did you—”

“I saw. When we had breakfast together, during that day when you agreed to pretendto be my lover.” His fingers brushed the nape of your neck and slid down to your spine, his large palm resting over your back. “Do you know what’s written here?”

“My soulmark.”

“It’s more special than that.”

“How come?”

“Have you seen it?”

You shook your head. “I’ve never dared to. I don’t like it... and I’m… scared of it.”

“Do you like me?”

“I love you.”

“Are you scared of me?”

“No.”

“If that’s the case, there’s no need for you to dislike or be scared of your mark.”

As he had revealed to you moments ago, Diavolo never lied. You trusted him. If he was certain he was your soulmate, you had nothing to fear. “Okay, but I have to remove my dress, so if you will, the door is that way.”

Diavolo released you with a quiet laugh. A familiar mischievous smile played on his lips, he shook his head. Determinedly, he reasoned, “I can’t afford any more misunderstandings with you.”

Instead of leaving, he moved and settled down a few steps within your reach. He gave you free rein over the space in front of the mirror and crossed his arms, waiting.

Conceding, you sighed and shook your head in exasperation. There was no way you could convince him to leave. You raised your fingers to pull the zipper from your side, but the eyes trained on you were too intense, you almost turned—if not for the fact you’d still see him admiring your actions from the mirror which, strangely, felt more intimate. Averting your gaze, you stripped out of your evening gown. You thought of making your way to the chaise and laying down your outfit on it, but your hands felt too shaky, and your feet felt too cold. The crimson cloth slipped away from your fingers and pooled on the floor.

Donned only in your lingerie, you were exposed, and your back was ready for your revelation. Fear threatened you to put an end to this mess through flight, but your trust and affection for the man standing in front of you led you to fight this fear and face it head-on.

And then, on your own volition, you finally looked at what was imprinted on your back: the soulmark you once resented but now gave you hope and promise.

Once you saw it, you felt grateful for your unknowingly wise decision of hiding it from everyone who asked about it in the human world.

“No way…” you murmured, unable to tear your gaze from your back’s reflection.

Three numbers were written vertically over your spine:

6 6 6

Diavolo approached you, his arm moving past your waist and resting on the table. He tilted his head to the side, and like you, openly gazed at your soulmark’s reflection in the mirror. His fingertip traced over the numbers, one after another, earning a soft gasp from you. “You know what this means, yes?”

You did.

The Devil’s Number.

Devil.

Diavolo.

Speechless, you turned your face and stared at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“Do you honestly believe I could be this good at pretending to be in love with you?” Diavolo questioned and gave you a kiss on your forehead. “You think too highly of me.”

“Do you really… love me?” you whispered.

“Listen well, my princess,” Diavolo embraced you and stroked your hair. “I love you.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, dampening his suit, but neither of you cared. “The prophecy…”

“It’s about you.”

“So, all this time…”

He sighed and grimaced. “Yes.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“I am,” he said, releasing you to wipe your tears with his thumbs. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with it.”

Diavolo cradled your cheeks and bent his head to kiss you. After you decided to break things off with him, you had accepted you’d never be as close to him as you were before, but here you were. Eyes closed, you basked in his affection, which you now know was true and meant only for you. Despite the anger he admitted to, the sensation of his lips on yours was warm and forgiving. When you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him closer, and deepened your kisses, the soft sigh that escaped his lips was all you needed to know he was relieved. It put him at ease that you loved him and weren’t going to leave him. It was a sentiment that mirrored yours.

Breathless, he leaned back and met your heated gaze. The crackling tension between the two of you grew from powerful to electrifying, a telltale sign of a singular ending to this encounter. It was a resolution you never dared to consider when you entered this castle tonight, but it was one you had no complaints about. He needed this—needed you—and you’d be damned if you were going to let this end like it did last time.

“Will you indulge me?” His fingers grazed your mark once more as he took the clasp of your bra between them and unhooked it in one go. “Rather, would you indulge in me, my princess?”

“Here? Now? The celebratory ball is going to start soon,” you teased, tugging his bow tie with your index finger and unfastening it.

“Our unfinished business is more important,” Diavolo reminded you, his suit jacket falling on top of your dress. You unbuttoned his shirt and brushed your lips on his collarbone, the tip of your tongue teasing his exposed skin. He sighed and continued, “You have no idea what you do to me. I’ve wanted you for so long, but it seems my feelings didn’t come across properly. I’ll make it so you’ll never have any doubts about us ever again.”

Diavolo guided you to sit on the dresser and began kissing your neck, freshening the faded lovebites he had made and adding more as he caressed your breasts with his palms and dragged his thumbs over your hardening buds. His ministrations were languid and tender, but every contact with his mouth and fingers left you squirming, eager for him to quicken his pace and pay attention to where you needed him the most.

“When you first arrived here, I just knew… I have to have you all to myself,” he confessed.

As his lips reached your abdomen, Diavolo went down on one knee. To you, he looked like a knight receiving an accolade from his monarch; as if the vanity table was your throne, and he was promising himself to you. Perhaps, it would be more appropriate to liken him to the prince who had finally found his elusive Cinderella. But perhaps not—as unlike that prince, he was removing your high heels and setting them aside. Desire and reverence filled his eyes as he tilted his head and stared at your bare form, your chest rising and falling in anticipation. 

“Now, everyone’s going to know you're mine,” he vowed, hooking your panties at the side and sliding them down your legs, “including you.”

Your mouth parted in a soundless groan as Diavolo kissed the inside of your knees.

“What do you say, my princess?”

Anticipation pooled at the pit of your stomach. A slow, coquettish smile made its way on your lips. Above all else, you wanted him to know you were eager for this as much as he was—that you desired him as much as he desired you. You raised your legs and beckoned him closer by spreading them and letting your calves and feet rest over his wide shoulders. “Show me.”

He smirked, pleased with your answer. Wordlessly, he kissed and nipped at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Tilting his head lower, his warm breath ghosted over the apex of your legs, his lips hovering over your sex. The first swipe of his tongue was gentle. He let you familiarize yourself with the sensation before he licked you where it was the most pleasurable. When he did, the sharp inhale you took didn’t escape his notice. He knew what he was doing, flicking his tongue and sucking at that little bundle of nerves with the right amount of pressure, in the way you never knew you wanted it. His index and middle finger over the sides of your entrance, his tongue plunged inside you. It triggered a sudden movement of your hips, but he held you in place and steadied you with his other hand, his ministrations never faltering, coaxing a diminutive moan out of your lips.

“You hear that?” he murmured, pertaining to the sound the shallow thrust of his middle finger made. Those three words sent a pleasurable wave from his lips to your groin, making you curl your toes and your back arch against the mirror. “We’ve only just begun, and you’re already so wet for me.”

“Stop teasing me so much,” you whined. You reached out to brush his hair and thread your fingers between its strands, but at the quickening pace of his hand, you ended up tugging at his locks instead.

“It’s because you’re holding back,” Diavolo pointed out with a soft chuckle. He peered at your face and waited for your reaction as he added a second—and soon, a third—finger into the mix. “Let me hear you. I know you can be louder than that.”

Even if you wanted to subdue the gratified noises threatening to fill the room, you were helpless against his earnest pursuit of your peak. He pumped his fingers in and out of you over and over, making you cry out as you reveled in the sensation of your release. At a rhythmless pace, your hips shifted against his face once more, only this time he let you ride out and enjoy the most out of your climax.

Diavolo might be all refined, dignified, and gentlemanly, but now that you had brought out the lascivious side of him—the raw and sinful part of him he kept in the dark to many—he was relentless. He straightened his body and licked his damp lips, savoring your taste. It was a look that told you that there was more to come—that he had more to give.

Eyes bleary, you were faintly aware of it as Diavolo stood. You did likewise, albeit unsteadily, and allowed him to turn your body around. With a light press of his palm over your back, he inclined you downward. Your fingers grasped the edge of the table, and the vision of your flushed state connected with your eyes in the glass. Above your likeness, Diavolo’s reflection smirked at you. Then and there, your earlier thoughts about him admiring you from the mirror were proven correct: everything about this was intimate, enthralling, and insanely sensual.

Diavolo pressed his lips on the numbers on your spine, and your legs wobbled as you shivered. He held you by the waist, his torso perfectly fitting over your back as his other hand worked on his trousers and guided himself near your fluttering entrance, the tip touching you but not entering. His lips tickled your ear, and he dragged them across the lobe and tugged at it. With a soft but demanding voice, he urged you, “Say it.”

Still in a daze from your climax but covetous of another, you were ready to do whatever he wanted you to do. “Say what?”

“Say you’re mine.” He nudged his length between your sensitive folds. He felt so good, and you knew he was going to feel even better once he was inside you.

“I’m yours,” you vowed, shifting your lower half to sheathe him. “I’m yours—only yours! Now, please Diavolo!”

He was delivering what he had promised earlier, showing you how you were his. At the same time, you wanted him to show you he was yours, too. Yearning to be connected to him in some way, you turned your head to meet his lips with your own. Instead of replying with words, he slipped his tongue past your mouth and kissed you deeper. He gripped your hips and eased himself inside your core.

Startled, you pulled your lips away and faced forward with a soft gasp. Although you had an idea of his size and girth from your foreplay, he still felt more than you expected. He was only halfway in, and yet, you were already biting your lower lip to suppress a pleasured scream from coming out of you.

His pace was tantalizingly unhurried. Again and again, he drew back and thrust inside you—only to stop midway. 

It was frustrating. You were capable of taking all of him, and you knew it.

“Harder,” you pleaded, “Do it harder… Please!”

With a kiss on your shoulder, he chuckled and replied, “As you wish, my princess.”

He gave you what you asked for and eased himself fully inside you. Once you accommodated his length, your eyes fluttered closed reflexively. Yes, this was it. This was exactly what you needed. Your breath hitched as he slowly drew back until his tip remained in your entrance, and in a second, he plunged inside you again. “Y-Yes, just like… like that.”

Diavolo groaned, increasing his pace. His fingers dug at your hips, and the erotic sound of skin slapping filled your ears. He leaned back and let out a low hum of appreciation as you took every inch of him perfectly. His voice strained and lacking its usual composure, he remarked, “Feels even better than I imagined.”

Well, damn.

The image of him touching himself to the thought of you was enough to make you shudder with arousal, but the pleasure of having him, in reality, was beyond any vision your mind could conjure up. You clenched around him, coaxing a grunt and a loud moan from his parted lips. He gritted his teeth and tightly shut his eyes, the rhythm he had set gradually turning rougher.

“Fuck!” you moaned, “Diavolo, I… I-I’m gonna—”

He sensed it. His pace refused to falter, and you reached your climax within seconds. You witnessed how much of a mess you turned to in the mirror, but you couldn’t care less. It was Diavolo who made you this way, after all. Your arms and legs gave out as you shuddered, but he readily caught you before you could fall to the ground. 

Diavolo unsheathed himself from you and returned you to your seated position. He kissed your hair and shifted his lips near your ear. “More?”

“Y-Yes.”

Gently, he held one of your legs up and propped your ankle on his shoulder. His other hand clamped over your bent knee. He entered your slick heat, and this time, you were able to accommodate him at once.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, his golden eyes following the movement as he thrust in and out of you. “Good girl.”

For the third time tonight, he drove you over the edge, but your earlier climax caused your current race to the peak to be agonizing. You feel it dangling over you, but at the same time, it was out of your reach. Distressed, you exclaimed, “I can’t!”

“You can,” he countered, giving it to you harder, “and you will.”

The fervor in his promise remained inexorable, and the tremor in his voice hinted at his impending climax.

You grabbed his wrist and shifted your leg downward, determined. He realized what you were trying to do as you held your arms up and wrapped your legs around his hips. Chuckling, he lifted you up with ease and held you in his arms firmly. You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed him. He gripped your thighs and slid you up and down his length, returning to the rough momentum you had moments ago in sought of the heat the both of you had built up.

Little by little, his pace turned uneven. His breathing was labored and warm against your skin. 

“I want to see you come,” you told him. The familiar coil in your abdomen unfurling, your voice grew louder as you cried out, “Fill me up, Diavolo. You’re mine.”

As soon as you said those words, euphoria washed over every fiber of your being. This was the highest you’d ever felt, and you were certain no feeling could compare to this. No other being could compare to him. Diavolo was the only one for you.

In a split second, his jaw slackened and his eyes closed, groaning unabashedly and calling out your name. He continued thrusting inside you, never sliding out he chased his own peak. Trembling, he throbbed and filled you up as you asked, the warm and wet liquid dribbling down the inside of your thighs with his final thrust.

Panting, the two of you remained still as you came down from your respective highs.

It was you who broke the silence a few moments later. “I love you.”

He smiled and stroked your hair. “I love you too, my princess.”

The tender moment was shattered by the sudden increase of temperature on your back. Pain derived from your soulmark and spread over to your shoulders and hips. It rapidly grew hotter until it was sweltering. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“Diavolo!” you cried, “My back—it’s burning!”

The touch of his bare skin was comforting, and somehow, his presence alleviated the agony. However, the invisible fire grew more intense. You could do nothing but let out a scream on his shoulder and cling to him.

Diavolo hooked one of his arms under your knees and carried you to the connecting bathroom. He placed you in the bathtub and made sure your head rested on the area gently. As the cold water rose and filled the tub, he caressed your forearm and held your hand reassuringly.

Your throat felt parched, you couldn’t say anything although you longed to. 

He cupped your cheek and wiped the tears you were unaware you were shedding. “Shhh… It’ll be alright. I’m here. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll stay with you and...”

Before you could hear the rest of Diavolo’s words of comfort, everything had gone black.

Vivid visions of the past filled your dreams one after another. You had long heard of people having their life flash before their eyes before they pass away. Was this it? Were you dying? You hoped not. The images blurred and turned ambiguous as the heat you felt subsided.

And then, you returned to the waking world. Alive.

The cool wind from the open terrace doors nipped at your skin. Except for your exposed back, the rest of your body was warm, enveloped by the calming embrace of the man laying underneath you.

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked.

Diavolo turned his head to look at you. “You’re awake.”

Your fingers reached the fabric of the sleeveless nightdress you were wearing. Vaguely, you recognize it as one of the items in the closet next door. It was your first time wearing it.

“I dressed you. I hope you don’t mind,” Diavolo said.

“It’s fine.” You had shared more intimate moments to be embarrassed about something like that; it almost felt trivial. “Thank you for staying and taking care of me.”

“Of course.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. How are you feeling?”

Abruptly, you sat bolt upright. “Wait, what? And the celebratory ball?”

“It’s still ongoing, but you have nothing to worry about. More importantly, does your back still hurt?”

“No,” you replied after a brief pause, surprised at your own observation. You stretched your shoulders and bent your arm to reach over the small of your back to check. “It’s as if nothing happened.”

“Something did, actually. Something very important,” Diavolo informed you, his tone full of seriousness. “Your mark changed.”

“What do you mean it changed?”

It was the first time you heard of a soulmark morphing into another shape or form. Appearances of soulmarks were rare enough. As you mulled it over, however, you were quick to overcome the disbelief. When all was said and done, you and Diavolo were far from a regular pair of lovers. 

Diavolo sat up and took your hand in his. “Come, look.”

The spark of excitement and delight in his demeanor piqued your curiosity. His eagerness, though contagious, was patient. He led you to the bathroom at the pace you were most comfortable with. Given the events that transpired earlier, the last thing he wanted was to insist you advance quicker and push yourself too hard.

A giant mirror rested over the sink. Unlike before, you had no qualms nor nervous sentiments about looking over your back. The nightdress made it easy for you to see what Diavolo was talking about.

“This is…”

“My sigil.”

You face Diavolo with a quiet smile.

“Do you still have doubts about me? About us?” he asked.

“No… I’m sorry.” You take his hand in yours once more. “For the record, I don’t think I ever will again.”

“Good to know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away? You said you suspected it from the first day we met. I think there’s a possibility Barbatos knew of it as well.”

“Yes, it was the first time I felt so drawn to someone, but while I had my suspicions, I was only able to confirm them during that day, at the House of Lamentation,” he revealed, squeezing your hand. “As for Barbatos, I asked him not to look into anything relating to the prophecy and you, or at least, not to inform me if he sees anything—except if you would be in danger. I wanted things between us to progress naturally. Was that overly selfish of me?”

“Not at all. I’m glad we were able to get through this together, just the two of us,” you replied, endeared by his intention of pursuing a relationship with you in the most normal and genuine way he could. “I didn’t act upon it because I never thought it would be possible, but I… felt drawn to you from the first day, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you admitted and glanced at the door. “Is it too late for us to attend the party? I bet everyone is worried.”

“Are you feeling fine enough?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He nodded, his expression shifting into an amused one. “I think our previous outfits are wrinkled, though.”

You laughed. “I think so, too.”

“Why don’t you choose another one from your closet? You know, I was wondering why you’re always so hesitant to accept gifts from me.”

“Sorry about that,” you replied with sincerity. “This time, I accept the offer wholeheartedly. Thank you for everything. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome, my princess.”

As a final touch, you swiped a layer of red lipstick over your lips and closed the container with a snap. You leaned back and observed your reflection in the mirror. Even though your choice of lip color was bold, you opted for light makeup and went with the natural flushing of your cheeks. You couldn’t help the blood heating up your face at the reminder of your earlier escapades with Diavolo. Undoubtedly, you would never be able to look at this vanity table in the same way ever again. 

Gold jewelry adorned your ears and wrists. The intricate lace pattern of the sleeves and neckline of the black evening gown you were wearing was exquisite to your touch. The full expanse of your back was bare, laid in the open for all to see. While you were unused to such clothing, the impending revelation of your fate for all of the three worlds to witness felt right. All in all, it was a quick ensemble you arranged, but it was elegant. You were more satisfied than you were earlier when you first dressed up for the celebratory ball—in more ways than one.

“All done?” Diavolo asked, standing up from the chaise and putting his D.D.D. inside his pocket. He was in his demon form, as everyone else would be except for your friends from Purgatory Hall, for your ceremonial dance at the end of the celebration. It would be the only event you would be able to attend at this point, but it was the most important one, marking the end of Diavolo’s search and the beginning of your new role.

“Yes.”

He stepped forward and offered you his arm. “Shall we, my princess?”

Wordlessly, you smiled and slipped your hand in his arm as affirmation. This time, you had no guilt nor doubt. Your relationship with him was as real as it could get. You were the prophesied Queen of the Devildom. Soon, he would be your King.

Diavolo was your fate and your choice. And you were his.

Bound by destiny are the Prince and the Princess.

Over her skin, his symbol shall appear and remain.

And with the whole Devildom as their witness,

King and Queen, they shall be; eternal, they will reign.

Notes: And that’s a wrap!

This fic began with the idea of a character having ‘666’ as a soulmark. It was the first time I posted a work that was still in progress, and I’m really grateful for all the kind comments and feedback I received along the way. Thank you to everyone who supported this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💖

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil

Obey Me! Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys 

 - Chapter 1/8 - Ao3 link -

By the time Lao Nie wrote to Lan Qiren under personal cover to ask for his assistance, they hadn’t spoken in nearly seven years.

Oh, they’d spoken – it was rather impossible to avoid speaking, acting sect leader to sect leader. They attended the same discussion conferences, and of course the Lan and Nie sects were close allies, insofar as the Great Sects were anything to each other; their alliance, martial and moral, tended to balance out the riches and clever tricks brought to bear by the Jin and Jiang sects, and of course the Wen sect was large and powerful enough that it didn’t need or want any allies that it couldn’t subject to its dominion. An alliance meant constant contact, checking in, and ideally would call for a good relationship between the leaders of the two sects, which they had once had.

They had once been very close, even.

Lan Qiren had idolized Lao Nie from a young age, admiring his fierceness and his passion for life, his ruthless logic and his practicality and his thoughtful sense of judgment, all the more admirable given that he was from a sect known for being a bunch of hotheads. When Lan Qiren’s older brother – older by nearly ten years, with a middle brother that had died before Lan Qiren’s birth and several miscarriages in between as his parents struggled to provide the sect with the requisite spare – had continuously tried to leave his irritating younger sibling at home when going on night-hunts, Lao Nie had cheerfully interjected himself more than once, volunteering that he would be happy to take him along, and at that point Lan Qiren’s brother, who admired the older man nearly as much as Lan Qiren did, would generally yield, even if he grumbled about it.

Unlike Qingheng-jun, who ought to have been more considerate for his own family, Lao Nie had never minded having to slow down the pace of his hunts in order to accommodate a sickly child, a pedantic one that needed to understand things thoroughly before he was comfortable trying something new. He had often allowed Qingheng-jun to rush ahead and win glory that ought in all fairness to have been his, something Lan Qiren only discovered when he reviewed his history in retrospect.

Lao Nie hadn’t minded how clumsy Lan Qiren was, or how picky he was, refusing to eat even common foods if the texture didn’t appeal to him; he had only laughed at his excessive formality, the harshness of his tone, his tendency to repeat himself or to become caught on little details. He’d indulged him, wasting copious amounts of his time listening to Lan Qiren talk enthusiastically about the Lan sect rules, which he’d fallen in love with at an early age and, when young, rarely missed the chance to bring into any given conversation no matter how irrelevant.

He’d always been very kind to him.

If you had asked Lan Qiren ten years ago, he would have confidently asserted that Lao Nie was one of his dearest friends.

And yet – it had been Lan Qiren, who was short on friends, and not Lao Nie, who had many, that had cut off their relationship. Lan Qiren hadn’t truly spoken to Lao Nie in seven years, limiting their conversations to the subject of sect business and keeping their meetings as short as could be allowed by etiquette, ignoring the way Lao Nie looked at him with sadness and regret in his eyes. Even when Lan Qiren’s anger had finally died down from a raging flame to a simmering anger he suspected would never leave him entirely, he had thought to himself that it was too late, that the fire had burnt everything out, that there were only ashes left behind.

And yet – on the seventh year, apparently apropos of nothing, Lao Nie wrote to him, requesting his presence.

As a friend, he wrote. Come as a friend, or not at all. I have no use for a sect leader.

Lan Qiren struggled with the request, which did not obey any of the unwritten rules he had forced himself to learn on top of the many that were written. He did not know if he was still enough of a friend to Lao Nie to answer such a request.

He did not know himself whether he would go until the moment that he went.

Lao Nie met him at the gateway to the Unclean Realm, relief written in every line of him.

“Thank you,” he said, and Lan Qiren shifted uncomfortably from side to side.

“I didn’t even do anything yet,” he said stiffly, instinctively reaching up to stroke his beard. It was a more acceptable social tic than others that he had been discouraged from employing; losing access to it, however temporarily, had been one of the reasons he had been so upset with Cangse Sanren when she’d shaved it off while he was asleep. She’d tracked him down later to apologize when she’d realized how badly he’d taken it, serious for perhaps the only time he’d known her, and they’d ended up as something almost like friends out of the whole debacle. He hadn’t heard from her in years, either, but that was no breach; it was only that she was busy with her husband and the little child she had once shoved into his arms with that deep, echoing laugh of hers. “Don’t thank me until I’ve determined if I can do anything for you, or will.”

Lao Nie nodded and showed him inside, leading him to his private chambers rather than the sect leader’s study. This suggested that the issue was private, although Lan Qiren supposed he’d already known that, based on the letter.

They sat in silence while Lao Nie personally served the tea, his brow still creased in concern, and Lan Qiren stared at him – too intently, as always – and wondered what private issue could have caused such an upset, and moreover what he could possibly need Lan Qiren for. Lao Nie was a private man, in the custom of his clan and sect; Lan Qiren didn’t know his birthdate or even his age, only the approximates, and many of the details of his life escaped him. It made it difficult to guess what the matter might be, if it were personal and not political.

Although…

“My condolences regarding your second wife,” he said, watching, and Lao Nie jerked his head in a tight nod, acknowledging the loss. Lao Nie’s first wife had been a mysterious figure, appearing and disappearing as suddenly as an unexpected burst of rain on a sunny day – the stories in Qinghe enthusiastically claimed she was a goddess that descended from the heavens to dally with moral race, who’d ended up marrying Lao Nie to legitimize the child he’d unexpectedly planted in her belly, only to be summoned back to the heavens on important duties, although of course it was commonly understood that she was more than likely just some powerful rogue cultivator who had decided after a short interval that being married was not for her. Lan Qiren had never met her, although he had had the fortune to meet Lao Nie’s second wife, who had been much more down-to-earth, an innkeeper’s daughter.

(Lan Qiren had rather liked her the few times they’d met. She was a little self-absorbed, in a harmless sort of way. She liked beautiful things and good food and talking about them, and was happy to carry on entire conversations while he responded only with nods and grunts; to his relief, she had never expected anything more from him. She was very beautiful herself, both delicate and seductive with her fox’s face and long and narrow eyes; some cruel people spread rumors that she was a demon or a yao in disguise, sent to wreak havoc through the seduction of men. She had never tried anything like that on Lan Qiren, unless her attempt at seduction consistent of sharing a plate of snacks and occupying him enough to prevent him from having to listen to the more boring parts of the social parts of certain discussion conference meetings. At any rate, he’d been truly saddened to hear that she had died.)

Still, Lao Nie had not yet begun to speak.

That meant that the problem was not in relation to that aspect of his life, which in all honesty was a relief. Lan Qiren could not imagine a world in which Lao Nie confided his marital problems in a prematurely old bachelor like him.

Perhaps…

“Your sons?” he asked, and this time Lao Nie flinched, so he’d guessed right. “Ah. The younger one?”

The younger one would be about A-Zhan’s age, surely, or even younger. Little more than a toddler, not yet quite old enough to be taken away from the mother – or nurse, in the case of Lao Nie’s second son – and they were so terribly fragile at that age…

“No,” Lao Nie said, and sighed, a long exhale. “Forgive me, it’s a difficult subject. A-Sang is fine. The issue is with A-Jue.”

Nie Mingjue would now be around eight or nine years old, Lan Qiren thought, or perhaps even older – it was so hard to tell with these secretive Nie, and he only knew enough to make the guess at all because of their former friendship. Most sects were only vaguely aware that there were heirs to the Nie sect, and had certainly never seen hide nor hair of Nie Mingjue, during discussion conferences or otherwise.

He’d been a toddler the last time Lan Qiren had seen him, young and energetic, running around anywhere, but he had something of his father’s kindness – he’d actually listened to Lan Qiren telling him about rules that didn’t apply to him, and even proudly repeated some of them back to his father, much to Lan Qiren’s embarrassment – without having yet grown into his father’s occasional callous ruthlessness.

Perhaps it made a certain amount of sense that Lao Nie would ask for help with his children. Since his life plans had been irrevocably altered, Lan Qiren had taken over teaching at the Cloud Recesses, and to his surprise, was apparently making something of a name for himself.

It hadn’t been intentional: he’d been desperate for something to do with himself that wasn’t just for the sect, so much of his time consumed by the business of sect leadership, and he’d always planned to become a teacher eventually, although he’d always assumed it would be much later in life. He’d volunteered to teach, only to look at the small handful of obedient, well-trained Lan sect disciples that he would be in charge of instructing and quickly realized that such ‘teaching’ wouldn’t occupy his time at all.

Accordingly, he had demanded that the sect elders allow him to accept disciples from other sects as well. The request was highly irregular, but strictly abided by all Lan sect rules on the subject – it was Lan Qiren putting together the proposal, after all – and the elders had granted it with surprisingly little debate. To this day, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure if it was pity for his circumstances or simply an assumption that no outside students would bother attending, but he would not let the approval, once granted, be so easily retracted: he had sent out letters asking for students at once, and to everyone’s surprise but his own they actually came.

(He’d been clever about it, at the start. He’d reached out first to those smaller sects that would not have access to resources even a quarter as good as the Cloud Recesses, asking specifically for those children that seemed troublesome – the ones it took time and attention to teach, the ones who didn’t seem to be getting what they were supposed to learn. The slow, the stupid, the angry, the ones who disappointed their parents most of all. Lan Qiren might not have answers for those children, but at least he could give them his time and attention and he found, for most of them, that was all they wanted.)

Recently, though, they’d started getting more requests to join from the slightly larger subsidiary sects, more people, even murmurs about sending him their sect heirs rather than their burdens – people were saying that his teaching could make a gentleman even out of a waste, which Lan Qiren didn’t really understand. After all, putting aside a few students that were too arrogant to be willing to learn anything, he hadn’t encountered a single one he’d characterize as a waste.

“How can I help A-Jue?” he asked, expecting Lao Nie to finally give in and explain.

But Lao Nie shook his head.

“There’s some background I need to tell you first,” he said. “Without which the problem won’t make much sense. You have one of the finest analytical minds I’ve ever met, Qiren, and a way of thinking that doesn’t match up to conventional wisdom – I’m hoping you can help me where expertise has failed.”

Lan Qiren frowned, embarrassed. “I can try,” he said, already mentally rearranging his plans to account for a longer stay. He disliked sudden changes and had planned out three possible lengths of time for his visit – one short, one medium, one long – so that he would be able to select whichever one would be most appropriate. He hoped that the issue would not require any more time than the longest period he had allotted. “What is the subject?”

“Saber,” Lao Nie said, and smiled at Lan Qiren’s confusion. “My sect’s cultivation style. Let me explain…”

Lao Nie’s explanation was fascinating.

The cultivation style of the Nie sect – and the Nie clan in particular, especially the main branch – was unlike anything Lan Qiren had ever heard before, completely different in both substance and philosophy. It was a rough trade, a difficult road, heartbreaking in its sacrifice, impressive in its results…

It wasn’t the road for everybody, but one couldn’t help but admire those that walked it.

“Doesn’t it get close to demonic cultivation, using resentful energy like that?” he asked at one point, and Lao Nie had explained to him how they had drawn the distinction – using beasts, never humans, and channeling the worst of the effects into their sabers rather than themselves. How much they strived to cultivate morality into their sabers as well as power.

Lan Qiren thought that it was a fine line, but after some thought concluded that they fell on the right side of it, if just barely. The primary dangers of demonic cultivation were in the way it increased the amount of evil in the world, whether through the inevitable madness and violent rampages of its wielders or through the simple side effects of using other people’s corpses as your playthings, increasing their own resentment, breaking the hearts of their loved ones, and causing their ancestors to curse you; that sort of vile conduct was an offense to the Heavens. The Nie sect’s cultivation avoided that, and if through their sabers they added a little bit of evil to the world then it could not be denied that they took much, much more of it out.

“I think I understand now,” he said, brushing his fingers along his beard. “But…why tell me? Isn’t it one of your clan secrets?”

“It is,” Lao Nie agreed. “As a general principle, we do not tell outsiders unless we must.”

The Nie sect preferred principles over rules, which Lan Qiren begrudgingly accepted even if he himself preferred having rules, clear and precise and equal even if they sometimes weren’t quite fair. But situation-dependent or not, the Nie held to those principles just as tightly as any Lan did to their sect rules, and that was worthy of respect.

“So you felt that you must,” Lan Qiren observed. “But why? And what does it have to do with A-Jue? Is he not taking to your sect’s teachings…?”

“I would almost prefer that,” Lao Nie said, and rubbed his eyes. “We’ve always had those that didn’t follow our ways – those that refused to train the saber, or refused to cultivate a spirit despite all their training. No. It’s actually…A-Jue’s very good.”

Lan Qiren had been a teacher for seven years. He was accustomed to parents who needed to praise their child before getting to the point, though he wouldn’t have expected it of Lao Nie. He waited.

“He’s too good,” Lao Nie said, and abruptly covered his face with his hands. “He’s already cultivated a spirit in Baxia.”

Lan Qiren’s whole body jerked. “Lao Nie!” he exclaimed. “You’ve already given him a saber? He’s too young!”

Under the age of ten, Nie Mingjue should still be building his strength, shaping the muscles that would serve him in the future; he should be wielding only a practice saber made of wood, heavy and slow as he etched the forms of his sect style into his bones. Even if he was a true prodigy, a once-in-a-generation genius, he should at most bear a weapon of dulled steel, and never an actual spiritual weapon, much less the one that would be the companion of his future life.

“He took it himself,” Lao Nie said. “A little over a year ago – we had a surprise attack, right in the middle of the summer hunts. Supposedly bandits, but actually mercenaries, supported by traitors from the inside; they had a map to lead them straight inside our home, and attacked at the moment when most of us were gone. When everyone else ran for cover, A-Jue went to the armory and picked up a saber, freshly forged, and he took his first blood the same day. What was I supposed to do? Take it away from him?”

Lan Qiren felt a stab of sympathy for Lao Nie’s impossible dilemma.

Taking the saber away just when A-Jue had started bonding with it, right after he’d shed blood with it for the first time – yes, that would have been far worse. It might have crippled his confidence, introduced hesitation that would damage his cultivation forever, hinder his future growth…

“And he already developed a saber spirit?” he said instead. “Within a year?”

That wasn’t genius. That was insane.

“I know,” Lao Nie said. “The faster we cultivate, the sooner we die, but how am I supposed to say that to a child? And there’s how fast he’s picked up our cultivation style, how fast he’s going – what if he introduces some flaw into it and it sinks in before anyone notices? Even a minor disruption to his qi, at this age –”

Lan Qiren scowled. “Stop panicking,” he ordered. “That won’t help anyone at all, least of all him.”

Unexpectedly, Lao Nie smiled at him, although the smile was full of regret.

“It’s easy to say and hard to do,” he said. “Don’t you know I always lose my head when it comes to love?”

Lan Qiren knew.

Lao Nie had always been reckless in matters of the heart, as seen by his decision to marry some stranger for his first wife and a nobody for his second, and to thereafter refuse a third, more sensible arrangement with some sect leader’s daughter or sister that could care for the children as a mother while acting as a useful political tool, even if no other children were forthcoming. Even though his life had been beset with later tragedy, he had been happy with his wives – happy and in love, and unwilling to trade a single moment with them for anything.

Lan Qiren knew this. He even understood it.

He just had trouble excusing it.

Lao Nie had been friend to Lan Qiren’s brother long before he’d been friend to him, and so when Qingheng-jun had fallen in love in that sudden, shocking, irrevocable manner that the Lan sect had, Lao Nie had been the first to support him in it, delighted to think that his friend would find the same happiness he had himself found. He’d encouraged him not to be shy in presenting his courtship, in presenting himself as a possible match; he’d reassured him that some disinterest to begin with was reasonable, given that they were still strangers, and advised him to enjoy the feeling of falling in love, to be reckless and bold and daring with it…and he did it all in writing, from a distance.  

Lao Nie had been occupied at the time with issues in his own sect – probably the scandals relating to his first wife, in retrospect, though of course he said nothing of it back then – and had unwisely trusted in Qingheng-jun’s description of the events, rather than seeing the circumstances for himself.  It was understandable that he would not comprehend how fiercely his friend’s heart had been gripped by love, or how truly disinterested He Kexin was in her ardent suitor, not when Qingheng-jun described her resistance as mere coquetry. It was impossible for Lao Nie to have predicted that his well-meant advice that love was worth anything, even defiance of sect rules and the counsels of the elders, would be interpreted in such a terrible way.

Still less, of course, could he have predicted what happened next, the tragedy of He Kexin and the friend that deceived her, that tried to use her and Qingheng-jun through her through false rumors and twisted stories, and in so doing underestimated how unbridled He Kexin could be when pressed. It was all part and parcel of the same underlying calamity: if Qingheng-jun had not been so persistent in his courtship, He Kexin wouldn’t have had such a bad impression of the Lan sect; if she hadn’t had such a bad impression of the Lan sect, she might not have been so ready to believe her friend’s lies about their teacher’s conduct, to allow herself to be indirectly used to manipulate Qingheng-jun’s love-madness to the advantage of another sect; if He Kexin had been a little less arrogant or a little less blindly trusting or had bothered to ask a single question before taking upon herself the duty of executioner as well as judge, if she’d only held back her sword and not gone so far as to kill a man over baseless rumor – if only – if only – if, if, if –

If Qingheng-jun had not decided that his love mattered more to him than his sect.

There was no way Lao Nie could have known what would happen.

It was understandable.

One might even say that it was forgivable, except Lan Qiren had not yet gotten around to forgiving him.

Lan Qiren had dreamed of travel, not teaching; he’d wanted to play music in all the forgotten places, to learn all the things that could not be simply deduced from inside the safety of the Cloud Recesses. He’d wanted to help people, to use that vast store of knowledge that seemed irrevocably stuck in his brain to solve problems and suggest solutions. But the Lan sect needed a leader, and with Qingheng-jun in permanent seclusion, disinterested in sect matters, choosing instead to obsess endlessly over his broken heart…

The duty had fallen to Lan Qiren instead.

(He Kexin had eventually grown rather fond of her husband, even if love wasn’t the word for it. Lan Qiren didn’t know if she was simply salvaging what she could out of an unsalvageable situation or if she just enjoyed the exercise, but he had two nephews now, to raise as if they were his own. Because that was just what he needed, another chain binding him to his home, another duty that shouldn’t have been his – he loved his nephews more than anything, so he couldn’t be angry at them, couldn’t blame them for being born, and so he had to be angry at everyone else instead.)

Lan Qiren lowered his head and pursed his lips. He knew Lao Nie wanted his forgiveness. He even knew, according to the sect rules he valued so highly, that he should grant it. Seven years was surely long enough to pay for any innocent mistake, wasn’t it?

Come as a friend, or not at all.

That was the invitation Lao Nie had extended, and Lan Qiren had come. That was very nearly a decision, if he wanted it to be.

“Let me see him,” Lan Qiren proposed, and Lao Nie’s smile warmed at once.

[suddencolds]

Bad Timing | Genshin Impact

During Windblume festival, Diluc ends up hosting in an event in a venue that’s suitably decorated. Unfortunately, he just happens to be allergic to the flowers.

(This might be the most self-indulgent allergy fic I’ve ever written, haha. DIluc snzfic + pollen allergies + company from someone... unexpected.)

—

It starts as a miscommunication.

It’s harmless enough. Donna, whom Diluc vaguely remembers seeing outside of the flower shop just adjacent to Angels Share, makes an arrangement with Charles to decorate the Dawn Winery. An act of gratitude, or something along those lines—just in time for Windblume Festival.

At least, that’s how Charles tells him about it, just as Diluc is about to leave from his shift the night before the party.

“Decorations?” he asks. “I see. I will have to give her my thanks. Did she speak to Adelinde about it?”

Charles ponders this, taking his place behind the counter. “I’m not sure,” he says. “She says she hopes it’s to your liking, though.”

It’s all Diluc can do to nod. Decorations for Windblume usually mean one thing, but there’s a reason why the tavern is scarcely decorated, and it’s not that he doesn’t have the means to decorate. The tavern’s current undecorated state—with the exception of pressed-dry flowers or flowerless vines strung around the second floor railings—is meant to accommodate… well.

He doubt Donna knows, because he’s never had a reason to bring it up in conversation. As far as truths go, it’s somewhat embarrassing. For now, he can only hope that her act of kindness isn’t as extensive as he thinks.

— 

It’s an oversight, for sure, but it’s not until he steps foot into the main hall of the winery, two hours before the event’s inception that he realizes the extent of it.

The winery is crowded with flowers. There are snapdragons and cecilias strung up around the balconies, windwheel asters in neatly arranged bouquets on every available table, dandelions and wolfhooks cresting the fireplace. Vines of ivy and windwheel aster blossoms are woven around the staircase railings.

Instinctively, he raises a hand to cover his nose and mouth, as if to shield himself from it all. There’s a telltale itch already settling in his nose.

It’s a beautiful sight. But Diluc is very, very allergic.

He flings every window open—surely the air from outside must be an improvement—and bolts out of the building as soon as he can. Just from a few minutes of occupying the winery, he’s already congested, and his eyes are brimming with allergic tears.

The event—a celebration of the anniversary of the Dawn Winery’s founding, that happens to align closely with Windblume every year—is going to last for five hours. Moreover, there will be esteemed guests present, with which he’ll have to discuss business matters, which means that he has to be present.

Diluc shuts his eyes. Seasonal allergies are not anything that will cause him lasting harm, he’s sure… except, perhaps, to his professionalism. The winery has been in a financially good place these past few years, which means there’s barely any pressure on him to prove his own competence. His presence is more for show than for anything else. This should be fine. A five hour celebration, and then he’ll be out of here. He can ask the maids to deal with taking down the decorations later.

—

He arrives early, stands as far from the floral decorations as he can—it’s difficult; they’re everywhere—to make sure everything is in place. Despite his efforts, the winery is practically a flower garden, thanks to Donna’s well-intentioned arrangements. It’s not long before he’s sniffling again.

His eyes are starting to water, too. He wipes them gingerly on the cuff of his sleeve, sniffles, and nods his acknowledgement to the guests that are starting to file in.

“Sir Ragnvindr,” someone he recognizes as a business associate says to him, holding a flute of champagne. “How are you on this fine evening?”

How does he look? Diluc sniffles again. “I’m well,” he says, rather curtly.

“Mondstadt’s Windblume Festival is certainly a sight,” the associate is saying. “I’m glad I stopped by town at such an opportune moment.”

Diluc can’t think of anything he’d want to do less, right now, than entertain someone’s small talk. “It is one of Mondstadt’s most… hiIh!— most esteemed annual traditions… hiih-!” Damn it. Not now.

The itch in his nose is back. Luckily, the associate either doesn’t notice his predicament or doesn’t find it worth commenting on.

“Is that so? Tell me more about it.”

Diluc sniffles again. Anything to keep his nose from openly running. “I’m... sure… hiIIH-!” Barbatos, he needs to sneeze. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now. “...There are many people here more qualified to recount Mondstadt’s hiIhh-!… history… snf!… than I am.”

The associate raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. “Have you not lived here all your life? The previous owner of the Winery was Crepus Ragnvindr. I was under the impression that he was—”

“My father,” Diluc confirms, before he’s ducking away to stifle a sneeze, almost perfectly contained, into his wrist.

“hiIH’NGxt!” He gasps, sniffling, and presses his wrist closer to his face for the second. “hh…. hiiIH’NDGxt!”

It’s two sneezes, but they’re barely relieving. He raises his head, blinking. “Excuse me. Your assumptions are correct, though I…” he makes the mistake of rubbing his nose—something about the gesture just makes him need to sneeze. “hiIH… it’s been awhile since I’ve, snf, had the chance to properly celebrate, and longer still since… hIIh-!... since I’ve heard the history.”

“That’s strange,” the associate says. “You have lived in Mondstadt your whole life, yet you don’t know it’s history? Then again, I heard that you left for a few years, so maybe you feel no attachment to it.” It’s a thinly-veiled insult, but Diluc is too distracted to address it. He wants nothing more than to sneeze freely, but he’s sure that it would be loud, and it’d draw more attention than he wants right now. For now, he settles for raising a hand to—

“hiIH’DGXxt!” God, his eyes are watering, and the sneeze—though stifled—is forceful enough to jerk him forward, his shoulders shuddering.

The associate cringes. “It is a shame that you are spending the festival unwell.”

“I’m fine,” Diluc says, “Just… snf, just… hih!… HIih’GGKXt-shiu! ngh...” He needs to get out of here. Stifling offers virtually no relief at all, and he’s not going to stop sneezing anytime soon, from the looks of it.

He sighs, rubs his nose on the back of his hand, tells himself he can handle a few extra decorations. “Sorry. Did you, snf, have business matters to discuss?”

The associate’s expression hardens. “As you know, we have been ordering from the winery for a couple months now. I regret to inform you that there have been a few—”

Diluc blinks quickly. He can already feel his breath wavering—the start of another long, embarrassingly desperate buildup, probably.

“—troublesome incidents, specifically regarding the delivery of the wine. The delivery vehicles have been delayed on a handful of occasions—”

“hiIH! snf… hIIiih…”

His nose is tickling with such ferocity it’s almost torturous. He needs to get outside. His allergies are tolerable out in town in the open air, as long as he walks quickly enough and avoids all of the more festive installments. But here, in an enclosed space so thoroughly decorated, in a living room with mediocre circulation at best, surrounded by more flowers than he’s ever seen in his life…

“—just last week, the delivery cart was stopped by an assembly of hilichurl archers that destroyed nearly half the stock. Three weeks before that, the carriage caught the notice of one of Liyue’s Ruin Guards. I expect you are aware of these incidents?”

Diluc clears his throat. “I am. An excess of wine was sent back—hiiH! … in both cases, snf!- as soon as word of these setbacks… hIIH... reached the winery, snf.” The congestion is starting to settle in his voice, dulling his consonants. “You yourself… HIIh-! verified that the shipments m-made… hIIH-! it back to you… HIIIh!”

Sevens above. He doesn’t want to sneeze again, in front of someone who’s looking at him with a combination of disgust and condescension. But he knows, by now, that the most he can do is delay the inevitable.

“Ah,” the man waves a hand dismissively. “We did get the wine eventually. But it was still delayed, you see. Quite—”

—Diluc gasps sharply. “HIIIih-!”

“—an unprofessional experience, to say the least.”

His shoulders tense, as he jerks forward again, catching a barely restrained sneeze between the pinch of his fingers. “hihH'GXNt...! snf, hIIH… HIIH’NGDTtsh!” His body shudders with the release; he can feel the pressure of the sneeze settle behind his eyes, along with a dull ache—he’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps this up. “hiih-!... hiihHH…” This would be less humiliating if he could just sneeze and be done with it. Instead he finds himself caught in buildups that go nowhere, with a tickle in his nose that refuses to abate. “HIIIH… hIH’GZSchhh! snf… hhH-!”

Barely a breath in, his breath is already hitching again. He ducks into his sleeve, cringing, just in time for—

“hh… hiiH!... hh... HIIH’GXnT—shEw!!” The failed attempt at stifling is strangely relieving, all things considered, and he exhales shakily, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“Sir Ragnvindr,” The associate says pointedly. “I’m sure you can see where the problem lies. Delays are not exactly conducive to business.”

Diluc bites back an irritated retort. Delivery to Liyue from Mondstadt is bound to have its complications, given the concentration of enemies outside of the two cities; he’s sure this associate is aware of that, too. He has no control over whether the deliveries get interrupted, and he’s pretty sure it’s the associate’s fault for not putting the orders in in advance.

“What… snf… would you suggest, then?”

The associate smiles. “Given our longstanding role as customers, I believe monetary compensation would only be fair.”

Diluc sighs, scrubs at his eyes with one hand. “You can bring it up with Elzer. He is usually the one to handle these sorts of things,” Diluc says. “In the future, though, to save both of us the trouble, it would be best if you would... snf!... take care to place your orders in advance.”

The man stares back at him, his lip curling. “I beg your pardon?”

“The roads between here and Liyue are dangerous. I cannot always guarantee a safe delivery,” The tickle in his nose is back, relentless. If he’s going to sneeze again, the last thing he wants is to do it in front of this associate. Instead, he turns on his heels, sniffling. “Excuse me.”

He just about bolts from the room, past the floral decorations and up the staircase. The second floor is darker, lit only by the ceiling chandelier. He all but slumps against the wall. His nose is still itching, and he raises a gloved hand as his vision goes watery and indistinct—

“hiIIH’IISCH’iiuu! Hh… hDDt’TTZCSh’u!”

He doesn’t have time to wonder if anyone’s heard. Suddenly he’s gasping again, fumbling for a handkerchief, pulling up one sleeve so he can wipe his nose on the back of his wrist when he doesn’t find one. “Hiih… hiIIIH… snf-!”

The tickle falters just as suddenly, leaving him on the precipice of a sneeze, suspended in ticklish wait. He rubs his nose again, in hopes that the pressure on the bridge of his nose will be just irritating enough to coax out a sneeze, but...

It leaves him panting, his eyes still shut as he stands there, his breath still shaky with anticipation.

“hiIIH…! snf…” Nothing, still. “HIIIh...”

He rubs his nose again, hard, on the back of his wrist. Maybe if he could just sneeze—give his body relief in the fit it so clearly wants—it will solve his predicament for the next fifteen minutes, at least.

He just has to find somewhere quiet.

He rounds the corner on the second floor, stumbles through the door at the end of the hall out onto the balcony. The fresh air is immediately relieving, and he sucks in a long breath, leaning forward on the balcony railing. With the exception of some of the Dawn Winery staff, no one’s outside, and he doubts any of the guests will have reasons to spend enough time on the second floor to find the door that leads here. He figures it’s as good a place as he’ll find, for the time being.

The itch in his nose still burns, almost intense enough to make him shiver. Cecilias are wound around one of the balcony’s wooden rungs—he wonders, momentarily, if it’d be worth it to—

The door behind him swings open. He startles.

“Oh,” someone says from behind him. “...sir Diluc.”

It’s Rosaria, from the church. He doesn’t know much about her—he can probably count the number of words they’ve exchanged on one hand. She’s at the Angel’s Share every Thursday with Kaeya, downing drinks faster he thinks could possibly be healthy—though she must know her limits, given that she never seems to get as drunk as some of the knights do. Now, she eyes him warily.

There’s a windwheel aster clipped to the lapel of her shirt.

“Didn’t expect you to see you here,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you like, the most important person here?”

“Something like that,” he says.

“Then I suspect there’s a reason why you’re hiding out here.”

He doesn’t answer. How can he? “Ah, well, it’s fine,” she says, sounding unbothered. “Whatever reason you have, it doesn’t really matter to me. Hope you don’t mind if I smoke.”

He sniffles, turning away to wipe his nose on his wrist. “I… don’t.”

“Okay. I figured you’d be happier if I did it outside, anyways.” She steps into place next to him, digs through her pockets for a cigarette. “Think you could light it?”

He lowers his hand and turns to face her. Before he has a chance to light it, though, something about the proximity of the flower on her shirt is just enough to set him off — the next breath he takes leaves him gasping, his eyes watering immediately as he ducks violently into his elbow.

“hiIH… nGKTt!”

He’s not even close to done. “hiIH… hiiihH…. HH-!! snf-! hHiih’NDGXtT!”

“Bless you,” she says. “Are you sick?”

“Your… shirt…” is all he manages to gasp out, before he’s pressing his elbow tighter to his face, muffling another sneeze into the fabric of his sleeve—

“hiIH’IIIGXTtt… HIIiH-! Hiih… HIIH’IISsch’iu! Excuse me... HIih’GGKXt!!...”

“Oh,” she says, sounding like he’s just let him in on a secret. “You’re allergic.”

“Unfortunately,” he admits, feeling his face grow hot.

“You should’ve said.” She unclips the windwheel aster from her shirt, gives it half a look, and flicks it over the edge of the balcony.

“Wait,” Diluc says, his eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t mean to… hiIIh-! snf... imply you should get rid of it.”

Rosaria smiles unreadably. “I wasn’t wearing it by choice. A friend coerced me to. Is it just windwheel asters that set you off?”

“It’s… hiiiiH… it’s just about everything… hiIH’ITTSChh! hiIH… NGKTT-shiiu!” It’s getting harder and harder to stifle, but it’s already embarrassing enough to sneeze in front of her in the first place.

“Everything, huh? Sounds awfully inconvenient.”

He lights her cigarette with his vision. “Thanks,” she says, and immediately pulls it in to take an appreciative drag. “Kind of suffocating to be inside with so many businessmen for so long, if you ask me.”

He sniffles harder, rubbing his nose on the cup of his sleeve.“I… snf…! I’m not going to be stopping anytime soon. You should probably… hiih... find somewhere else to smoke… hiiH... hiih’GKTT-!”  

“You know,” Rosaria says, after a beat. “You’d be done sneezing sooner if you didn’t hold them back like that.”

If Diluc wasn’t blushing before, he’s sure he must be blushing now. It’s embarrassing to hear her address his sneezing in such a straightforward manner—he’s starting to see why she gets on so well with Kaeya.

“I’m fine, thanks… hiih… hiiH’NGXT’Sshh! HIIH’GKTT-! ugh...” Maybe she has a point—the stifling is starting to make his head hurt, and he hunches forward, still sniffling, to lean more heavily on the railing.

She shrugs. “Okay. I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind. Why’d you decorate the winery like that, anyway? It seems awfully… masochistic.”

“A misunderstanding. Donna’s doing, though… hiiiH!... it would have been ungrateful if I had taken the decorations down... hiiih... hiIH’GkkT!!” — caught neatly in the palm of his hand. “hIih… hiIIH… nGSSCHh! snf…”

“Sevens, Diluc. Drop the formalities and let yourself sneeze. I’m getting a headache just listening to you.”

He frowns, lifts his hand from his face, only to clamp it back on when he realizes what a mess he’s made out of himself, his skin prickling with embarrassment. “If you’re certain...”

She scoffs, taking another drag of the cigarette. “Trust me. I couldn’t care less.” Usually, smoke doesn’t bother him—his pyro vision would be significantly more inconvenient if it did—but now, with his nose so sensitive, it’s exactly the last push he needs to send him over the edge.

“hIIH.. HIIH…” He blinks through teary eyes, his grip tightening against the railing. “HiiH… iHH'GZCHh-iiu! Hihh… hhD’TTschH’iu! snf.. hiIH... HIHH'iischHiew!”

The relief from letting himself sneeze is immediate and almost dizzying. He gasps again, taking a step back from the balcony. The next sneeze snaps him forward at the waist.

“hiIH’ISCHhiuu! hiIih… GKKTT-’SHiuu!” Rosaria disappears back into the manor, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear her leave, but he’s too out of it to properly react. “Hiih… hiIh… HIIH’ISCCHh’yuu!” He sniffles against his wrist, his shoulders just about slumping with the relief, before they’re tensing again just a few seconds later. “hiih… hiiih.. hiiIH’NGTTT-SHIu! Hiih… HiiH’IIIISCCHh’iuu!”

He groans, sniffling, resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands—it seems like an appealing enough option, if not for the fact that he’s been covering with one of them. The door behind him opens again.

“Thought you might need this,” Rosaria says, and hands him a handkerchief. He takes it gratefully. It’s only after he’s blown his nose into it—quietly—that he trusts himself to speak.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’ll find a time to give it back when it’s clean... snf.”

She blinks at him, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks him over. “Geez, you look awful. I’ll ask Kaeya to stop by later so he and I can take down the decorations for you.”

It’s surprisingly sweet. “You don’t have to,” Diluc says, wincing at the congestion in his voice. “I can get it... dealt with… hiih’IISSSH’iuu!”

“Your maids can, you mean. Still, it will be faster if we help out... your bedroom’s on the second floor, isn’t it?”

When he nods, she shrugs, leaning back casually against the doorframe. “Even more reason to get it cleaned up faster, then. Would it kill you to accept some help for once in your life?”

Diluc sniffles, folding the handkerchief neatly. “I suppose not. I... appreciate it, then.”

She smiles at him. “It’s the least I can do. I’ve been leeching off your free alcohol this whole afternoon, so we can call it even.”

[otomes-world]

Unexpected Interaction (Part 6)

It`s maybe my last update in near future, `cause you know college... exams... and so on... But I still hope you will like it 0/ part1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Picture and idea belongs to @twisted-n-thirsty

The last week was probably the most difficult one of Vil’s life. Never before had his nerves been tested so often. The fact that he didn’t acquire a few gray strands could be called nothing other than a miracle. Fate definitely couldn’t leave him alone, every now and then sending not only LeBlanche, but also three spoiled `princes`. This was exactly what he lacked for complete happiness. No one instilled trust in him, and for the first time ever, the model was ready to admit that dealing with Neige was much easier. However, he wasn’t clearly going to say this out loud. It was too much honor.

Only a blind idiot who didn’t understand hints and couldn’t read between the lines could believe that they, by `pure coincidence`, accompanied the brunet. How they got to the Academy, the young man didn’t know and most importantly want to know. In the end, if they were students of the College, there were too many times more problems from them.

However, Schoenheit did want to know something: how, in the name of the Great Seven, do you manage to attract so many strange personalities to your person? He was fed up with the intrigue of the trinity. The way they seem to have set themselves the goal of getting him out of the competition in which you became the “prize”. This was exactly what the head of Pomefiore couldn’t allow. You have long been an part of Night Raven College. In addition, Epel could have finally rebelled without your presence nearby.

Therefore, he didn’t hesitate, pronouncing the following phrase, “We are very flattered by your proposal, but we have already discussed this point with the director. Name and Rook have been exempted from classes specifically for the upcoming event. Unfortunately, you gentlemen,” the young man looked pointedly at the trio. “..come all the way for nothing.”

“Why,” unexpectedly for Vil, it wasn’t the brunette, in whom he saw familiar features, but the blond who, it seems, never parted with the phone, spoke up. “The director of our Academy made a concession in the same way, allowing us to accompany a classmate. Since we also had a day off, we could go with you as a support group. After all, the more people the better, right LeBlanche?“

"Exactly! It will be much more fun!” Neige spoke again, not noticing how Schoenheit frowned almost imperceptibly. “Vi-kun, do you mind?”

“…If you don’t mind, then so do I,” the youth’s voice remained benevolently friendly, but his eyes told a different story. “Shouldn’t we hurry up?”

You could have sworn to everything you had that if you weren’t in a crowded place, Vil would have strangled each of the quartet with his own hands. However, you were ready to help him. After that scene during the competition, your sympathy for them diminished, and after they turned your dorm into zoo, this feeling disappeared completely.

“Oh, the one who obscures the moon with her beauty, don’t you share with me the reason that so darkened your eyes?” Apparently, having caught all your displeasure from this situation, the most problematic of the trinity turned to you. “I swear on my honor that I will fulfill any request, whatever it may be!”

Involuntarily, you remembered the old joke that you shouldn`t refuse heroes, but tactfully sent them for heroic deeds. However, if the young man was a real prince, then his country would not forgive you for the sudden disappearance of the heir to the throne. That’s why you just put on your best smile. After all, you didn’t want to go to jail in the same way you did to the grave.

The young man took your absence of an answer in a strange way. There was a sense of guilt in his eyes that you didn’t like even more. You didn’t want to imagine what kind of thing he could do to feel guilty. Silv… no, you associated that name with another student, so you chose to call him Justin-Silver. He seemed to you a stubborn but honest young man. You didn’t doubt him. You were suspicious of his friends, who have a ready answer for any question.

This wasn’t hidden from the gaze of Hunt, who carefully watched what was happening and at the right moment obsessively took a few steps closer.

“I beg your pardon, but maybe we really should hurry?” Realizing that you could stand like that at least all day, you decided to remind you about the photoshoot again.

You couldn`t say that you want to go, but the sooner you would start, the sooner you would finish. Sooner you would part with the eccentrics and return home. There was an unpleasant silence after your question, but soon Schoenheit nodded and headed for the gate. Well, judging by his reaction, at least you would get to the place separately. This was another plus in situation.

In the car driven by Vil’s manager, you sit in silence. You thought about how to get through this day as quickly as possible. The model probably dreamed of the same. Even though you still didn’t know why he helped you, you hadn’t stopped feeling gratitude. It was too scary to think how you would deal with the trinity alone.

“Potato,” without taking his eyes off the window, the head of Pomefiore call you. “I’ll be busy, so I’ll leave you to Rook.”

Blinking a couple of times, you didn’t immediately understand what exactly the young man meant. Until the next second it dawned on you. Perhaps the blond knew that a trio would come to college with Neige. Perhaps he went to negotiate with the director, not wanting to leave you to figure it out alone. This realization once again filled you with warmth. In his own way, Vil tried to keep his promise to you.

“Okay, I won’t step from him even centimeter,” this time you answered without sarcasm, almost. “Unless, of course, Mr. Hunter himself doesn’t move away from me in the direction of LeBlanche”

“Rook”

“Accepté! Roi du Poison, I swear that I will not take my eyes off the beautiful lady!“

Vil sighed as he heard Hunt’s deliberately joyful voice in the inappropriate atmosphere. He could only hope that everything would pass without incident. Today a tough battle awaits him, which, however, he wasn’t going to lose.

By the time the car pulled up to the studio, Schoenheit had regained his usual calm. They were now on his battlefield. After exchanging glances with his deputy once more, Vil brushed invisible specks of dust from his jacket and opened the door. The noise from the side suggested that Neige had also arrived on time. Ignoring the eternal rival, the blonde, along with the manager and personal support team, went to put on makeup for a photoshoot.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, it seemed to you that there was a completely different world outside the door. Inside, people were already scurrying about carrying out hundreds of all kinds of errands: someone was changing the scenery, someone was setting up cameras and lights, someone was distributing different boxes around the studio.

Trying not to get in the way, you immediately found a more or less quiet corner, settling down in which you began to observe what was happening. As Vil warned, he was taken away immediately at the entrance, so Rook settled down next to you. From where you were, you saw how Neige entered, who was also taken away in the same way, but to the opposite wing, followed by a trio.

Fortunately, they also scattered around the studio. Except one. Your most loyal fan has somehow managed to spot you among the staff. However, to your surprise, he didn’t come up right away, but after some time with a bottle of water. Probably, honor, or what he was guided by, didnt allow him to approach the lady empty-handed.

Deciding to finish you off completely, he turned to Rook and bowed to him.

“I’m sorry for asking, but would you mind letting me talk to the lady,” his voice sounded just as firm, but bending over to a 90 degree bow definitely gave the situation a different twist. "I swear on my honor that not a single hair will fall from her head, I will be responsible for it.”

“Rook, I know what I promised Vil, but could you give us five minutes?” Realizing that in this way he would attract unnecessary attention, you turned to Hunt.

“As the lady wishes,” vice-leader Pomefiore replied, slightly bowing his hat and flashing green eyes towards the young man. “However, if you need me, I’ll be within walking distance.”

Following the blond with your eyes, you sighed, hoping that you made the right choice.

Now.. there is no choice but.. what does the young man want to talk about? Part 7

[jae-canikeepyou]

| odd hour | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: fluff again cuz why not

a/n: written without proof reading because i had other writings to deal with :p hehehe! anyway i hope you enjoy reading, my dears! ~j.  

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your chest tightened at the loud sound blasting from your phone. eventually your hands pulled the remains of your blanket to muffle out the ringtone. that’s great! it stopped ringing for a moment before the vibration went ahead of the tone. heck, it rang again. you kicked the covers in frustration, little whimpers escaping your lips that it was another night you couldn’t have a peaceful trip to your slumber.

the bright light kept blinking in the dark and forcing you to open your eyes. anger was written all over your sleepy body as you turned lazily to the table beside the bed. who could be calling you at this hour when you already started to enjoy the dream projected in your brain? screw whoever cut it short. as if you had the screen memorised, your fingers slid across to answer the call.

“hello?” you greeted groggily with a long, and somewhat disrespectful yawn. no harm in letting them know how irritated you were, right?

“y/n! i called you twice and you answer at the second call? you usually pick up after the first ‘prrrring’!” mingyu, your best friend slightly yelled a bit louder in attempt to overpower the booming sound system in the background. probably in the club again, you thought.

“mingyu?” you sat up just so you wouldn’t fall asleep. “tsk. ever thought of that i might be sleeping at this hour? it’s 3 a.m for crying out loud!”

by the sound of his voice in the other line, it was obvious his phone was taken away. you could hear him scolding someone, actually, when did he never scold anyone, that included you as well. “yah! jaehyun!”

you quickly stood up in your disheveled pj’s; heart hammering non-stop at the mention of this handsome, human being that have always caught you off guard whenever mingyu would hang with you. he’d tag along too and each time that happened, you tried not to smile or blush in front of the dimpled heartthrob.

and most of the time you end up failing when the rest of the boys shoot you with teasing daggers of grins.

the call was still on hold, and it appeared that mingyu tried to snap the boy back to reality. he kept on raising his tone and uneven breaths were heard, trying to chase jaehyun. you were walking back and forth— feeling nervous, in which by the way, was unnecessary. but what were you supposed to feel?

it was jeong jaehyun.

the guy you fell hard for, literally; when you tripped over due to the desktop chair’s legs that you didn’t see. embarrassing as it was, he was indeed a gentleman to have helped you stand up on your toes. your eyes never left his until he bowed to take his leave.

“y/n! do you have time?” mingyu finally went back to giving the attention you waited for. “i got hold of jaehyun.”

“and?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in question and held in your breath, the useless excitement of yours started growing— so were your eyes when he said the next words,

and also that had you blushing hard.

“pick your man up!” mingyu laughed with a husky and hiccupy kind.

you became flustered and panicked and your lips couldn’t utter a response. he started to burst out laughing, only to stop when jaehyun took the phone from him. “ʸ/ⁿ! ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ? ʰᵉˡˡᵒ!” he sounded drunk and totally different from what you had imagined. he was already cute, but the jaehyun now was cuter.

“y/n, please come here and get him?” mingyu begged. poor guy, his 97-line friends partied the night away and if there was anyone who would drive, that’d be him. “i can’t fit an extra person in my seven-seater van.” he whined and you could already picture out his pouty lips. “i’ve got chan, seokmin, jungkook, bam, minghao and eunwoo. jae’s a big guy so-”

grabbing your jacket and slipped on some comfy sweatpants, you headed for the door but stopped mid-way when you realised what you were doing. crap i got carried away. “wait hold up.” you sighed, putting down your car keys. “an extra person wouldn’t be a problem right? put someone at the compartment area or on the floor or something.”

mingyu faked a laugh. “i’ve never seen jae drunk before. i don’t want him puking.” he claimed.

“so you’d rather want him to throw up in my car-”

“ah consider this a favor, my sweet sis.” cutting you off and leaving you stunned in your tracks. “we, your brothers know your crush towards him. so if you don’t want us to tell him about your jeelings when he’s sober, better get here soon~”

j-jeelings??

you tried to enter his blabbermouth reasons even if you knew you didn’t stand a chance against this giant puppy. “wait, ‘gyu! i don’t know his apartme-” and he ended the call.

great, what were you going to do now?

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the road was identical with those seen in an apocalyptic world described in movies. there were less people, flickering lampposts and garbage/debris spinning in circles with the wind’s currents. you flinched at the touch from jaehyun’s arms, which were attached to yours. he mumbled words in ways you couldn’t understand. it appeared more of a gibberish language; if not, then he was a total baby.

with combined smell of his perfume and alcohol, you thought you were about to pass out. he was too close and wondered how he was able to cling onto you in the most uncomfortable way possible. you sighed as you finally pulled over at his apartment block.

“jaehyun. we’re home.” you said, unbuckling the seatbelt and you had to do it for him since he was busy giggling at the buzzing fly trying to escape the window.

“we’re homeee?” he turned to you, face flushed than ever where you blinked non-stop at his stupid, adorable smile. “is it possible that you’re my wife? *hiccup* hahahaaa! wait i’m not even married yet!”

w-wife?..

you got off the car and went to his side, opening the door then found him struggling to stand up. “are you my wife?” he giggled.

“jaehyun you’re not married and i’m not your w-wife.” you said sternly, biting back from saying your actual, honest thoughts aloud.

he slung his arms around you thinking that you would support his weight. once you arrived at his doorstep, he pulled and led you into his apartment. apparently with the little furnitures he owned and no roommates found, it was clear that he lived alone. “stay here. i’ll give you water.” he offered and headed to the kitchen with wobbly steps. funny how he could make out his way there.

the place he calls home had pretty basic things; a keyboard, a complete set of tech-stuff you had no knowledge of and a vinyl turntable with several records. you snapped out of admiration when he handed you a glass of water and gummy smile glued to his face. getting up, you decided it was best for the both of you to get some rest. “thanks jae. now that you’re here, i’m gonna head back ho-”

a light thump on the wooden floor had you turning to him, but you covered your eyes at his action.

“tsk, it’s hot.” he removed his hoodie and underneath it revealed his tank top and toned arms. he was about to remove his top when you stopped him just in time.

“w-what’re you doing?!” you squealed and hopped, panicky and unsure what to do next. one palm covered your eyes and the other brought forth to reach him.

“taking my clothes off- hey! that tickles!” he whined, then laughing at the tugs you pulled at the ends of this hoodie, preventing him from further actions.

you fanned yourself at the exerted strength you’ve given, resting your arm by your waist. “gosh you’re such a handful!” you sighed. it was alright to blush since he wasn’t sober to see your expressions. thank heavens.

jaehyun crossed his arms and looked at you from head to toe. feeling the sleep signals hitting your body, you yawned at the odd hour you were suddenly dragged into. you thought bringing him home was hard, but getting him to stay at one place was harder.

his smiley face and waving body headed to the kitchen again, you slowly followed him around the apartment. “are you really not my wife?” his sudden turn to face you, causing flinch at his touch on your arm.

“jaehyun, for the last time, i’m not.” heh i wish. you rubbed his fluffy hair and grabbed your keys to get home. “wash up now and good night jae.”

he lightly slammed the wall behind you, not letting you leave. his eyes stared into yours, luring you into his world, an imperfect perfection. the weight of his forehead suddenly leaned on your shoulder, as if he was towering over you and yet he lowered himself to pull you close to him. “i won’t let you.”

the stillness of your body followed his words, like obeying a general’s command and no matter how sleepy you were, that went away once you returned his hug, not wanting to let go and take in the moment. this was rare, although it seemed like you took advantage of his drunkenness, even on normal days it was difficult to hold a conversation with jaehyun because he seemed so far-fetched.

a soft air of whispers tickled your ears, sending goosebumps at the touch of them. “did i surprise you?” he asked, followed by again a drunken giggle.

was he serious? “and if i said no?” you lied, trying to appear unaffected when you actually were. what’s wrong with you y/n?

“‘no?’ then if i do this, will you be surprised?” he asked with a challenging tone and had to leaned in closer than before where you both of your knees were touching.

“what exactly are you going to do nghf-” your fingers curled and eyes flutter when a sudden warmth met your lips. you knew you were going to faint right then and there,

but in fact it was the opposite.

jaehyun’s weight lifted off of you, collapsing afterwards when darkness consumed his sight to meet his sleep. he mumbled words that you didn’t notice, still utterly shocked with what he did. you managed to catch him and supported him to his bed.

your fingers touched the slightly swollen lips he planted upon as you were out of his door. then it immediately got you thinking that there was no way you would be able to look at him in the eye the next time you both meet.

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the drumming of your heart continued for the next days since that night. yugyeom noticed how fidgety you were whenever jaehyun would sit with the group at the library or at the caféteria. you’d immediately leave and think of lame excuses so you wouldn’t see jaehyun. at first they didn’t mind, you were a busy person after all. however this time, yugyeom managed to grab your wrists and plop you back to the chair. you mentally cursed at him and he didn’t seem to care like smiling it off would let him off the hook.

you annoyingly and purposely tilted your body so you wouldn’t face jaehyun entirely. “i don’t know what’s up with you but you gotta spill why you’re behaving this way.” yugyeom whispered and you rolled your eyes because yeah, you were busted.

“am i too obvious?” your surrendering voice softened his eyes, more so when you covered your face.

he raised his eyebrows and little did you know mingyu witnessed this as well. “obvious when you’re trying to hide your feelings for jaehyun or obvious that you’re trying ditch us again because of jaehyun?”

“both.” you sighed.

“did something happen that night?” mingyu cupped his lips, soon joining the so called ‘secret and quiet’ conversation you and yugyeom were having.

he didn’t get any verbal responses from you because you gave them a smile of uncertainty where your palms brushed your lips briefly. he covered his mouth as if he was really shocked, more of he really was. “something did, yeah?” he whispered and was convinced from your actions.

your phone alarmed, reminding you of your next class. quickly you packed your stuff and shoved them inside the bag, not caring whether they were neat or not. the rushed actions made jaehyun and the others look your way, and you tried your best to not meet his eye. “i gotta go.”

the faint smell of your perfume stayed in jaehyun’s nostrils whilst you didn’t bother to say goodbye. he turned his torso around, following your figure until it was getting further off the horizon of the caféteria. his friends became awkwardly silent, and he expected them to at least say something if there was a reason of your unusual behavior. instead, he got nothing, that they continued to eat even if they knew he had questions.

“is y/n okay?” he tilted his head in confusion, and saw how his buds bend theirs.

no one dared to speak because in this table, jaehyun was the oblivious one. he wasn’t aware of your feelings for him and the others have kept silent knowing the consequences if they told him; you were quite an angry bear, ‘a cute kind’, they said. “why are you all suddenly quiet?” he asked, the sips and slurps of the cups soon to be emptied.

“oh well y’know..” mingyu chuckled with his fangs peeking out. “just tired?”

“‘cause we’re eating?” jungkook pointed his food.

“uh we have a choice to be?” chan giggled with seokmin who was unable to keep silent.

jaehyun raised a brow, totally not convinced at the excuses and sat back with arms crossed. “you know i could tell if something’s up. who answers with a question anyway?” his straightforwardness wasn’t doing enough to keep them talking. “i’m gonna follow y/n.”

yugyeom stood to stop jaehyun from doing his thing without thinking straight. “wait!” he called out to him and the boy turned around.

the rest of the circle had given daggers to youngest who kept telling him to keep his words to himself. they really didn’t want to make you angry, but what yugyeom was doing would risk their friendship with you. to be exact, risk your friendship with jaehyun’s because of term called ‘crush’. their eyes pleaded and begging him to not spill anything.

“what?” jaehyun flattened his lips that the corners curved inwards, a more confused look seen on him. yugyeom cupped his mouth to whisper, the dimpled man’s eyes grew and scurried off the campus.

chan propped his elbows as the man sat back on his seat. “‘gyeom, what did you tell him?”

“y/n gave a hint before she left, i doubted it first. but it made so much sense as to why she kept ditching our meet-ups-”

“get to the point!” the rest of them pressured him.

the blond haired boy only sighed. “i told jae that he might've drunk-kissed y/n.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the sun met its sleep and the night began with patches of rain sprinkling your window. cool rushes of wind entered the thin gaps which sent shivers down to your spine, you wrapped yourself more into the cardigan. you hated it when the weather changes. 

pacing back and forth of your apartment, you’ve had battles in your head that maybe it was best to tell jaehyun or maybe it was better to keep things this way before you had the confidence to do so. you yelled into the pillow to let all of your feelings out. it was too much for your heart to carry or continue. even if you did decide to tell him, how would you approach him? how would you begin the conversation?

you held your phone much tighter than before yugyeom sent a message that gotten your brows raising in millions of questions.

[19:03] yuggie: the boys and i will treat you lunch or any of your cravings! we promise! 🙏🏼

“cool. i won’t be touching my savings for a while!” you cheered, knuckles and fists closed at the good news. unbeknownst to you, the reason for their actions probably would be revealed at a later time.

whilst you waited for dinner to be delivered, you turned on netflix to binge some series you haven’t watched before. however, you paused the means of leisure because you felt lonely. your roommate was out of town, leaving you to care for the apartment for a couple of weeks. and you couldn’t call the rest of the boys because some had work while others were busy with gaming. you could join them, but the motion picture of the game just doesn’t work together with your sight. the weather was already making you sick and nauseous. might feel worse if you played. 

so you uninterestedly switched on the tv again, spent nth minutes into choosing but never really decided on one. 

the memory and experience from that night came flashing in your head. you remembered the touch of his plump lips, the mixed smell of perfume and alcohol, his large hands wrapping your arm and the universe in his twinkling eyes. indeed you liked him a lot, and were thankful that your friends kept it a secret. if the truth came out, you wouldn’t know what else to do.

ding dong!

you stood fumbling with your purse, assured that maybe the pizza guy could wait a little, except it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. the door revealed jaehyun, soaked with an embarrassed smile. “hi?” he greeted, the rain drenched his clothes to the skin and his hair laid flat on his porcelain forehead. “i was about to call but-”

he was pulled in immediately, your hands on his wrists as the water bead droplets wet the wooden floor. “what are you doing in rain?!” you hissed, grabbing new towels for him to dry.

“i didn’t bring an umbrella and the sky just-”

“i thought i was reckless to leave the window open but you’re actually more reckless-”

“i have something to tell you.” he let the towel hung around his neck. there was something in his eyes that you somehow.. knew what he meant by that, so you decided to deal with yugyeom later. “i-”

“pizza delivery!” the guy said, making you and jaehyun turn to the still opened door.

you sighed heavily, why is there always one interrupting the other?

once everything was settled, he walked further into your home and removed his shirt that revealed a rather toned and refined abs. he took a new tee from a laundry basket fresh out from the wash that was exclusive for the boys in case of emergencies. you took care of actual babies.

you were now with him seated around the coffee table, unpacking the side dishes and drinks. “join me for dinner. i don’t think i can finish all this in one go.” you took extra ketchup from the cupboard. 

“wasn’t why i came here for but thanks y/n.” he smiled widely at the food laid out in front of him. 

that statement alone made you stop what you were doing. “why did you come here?” your eyes looked everywhere but him. unconsciously you bit your lip not because the guy you like was here, but because the kiss flashed in your mind again. 

jaehyun saw your action and scooted closer, the centimeters between you both lessening. “it can’t be a mistake, can it?” his voice was soft, with a hint of regret and worry at every uttered word. he eyed you from yours to your now wavering lips. “did i.. perhaps steal your first kiss?”

no words were needed to be said as to jaehyun, your actions and silence already said enough. you wanted to scream as the awkward air and your speechlessness was very unintentional. you wanted to talk, yet you couldn’t for who knew the reasons why. 

“i’ll take that as a yes.” he chuckled, stopping quickly afterwards at your fidgety state. “did i look that drunk?”

now it was you who let out an awkward chuckle. “so you don’t remember what happened that night?”

a warm tone of his hums prolonged the more the thought deeper. “not that i know of.. all i remember was being in the club with the dudes.” 

the rain poured heavier and it was uncertain when it would stop. thunderstorms were heard along with the patters of the droplets. jaehyun felt lucky enough that he came right before the weather turn worse. he let out a sigh of relief, but the relief of doing something unimaginable to you hasn’t lifted off of his chest. in fact, he didn’t know exactly why he felt more nervous than before when he shouldn’t be because it was just you.

yet, it was nervous because it was you.

the girl who managed to make his heart flutter at random times with your big laughs you weren’t ashamed of; the girl who rather hangs out with guys since you said there just too much drama with the ladies. but has a handful gems in her circle. and most of all, you were the girl he somehow wanted a girlfriend to be.

“stay tonight.” your words jolted him out from his thoughts while you moved the curtain aside to observe the rain. “it’s not gonna stop.”

“oh.” he muttered, internally cursing himself for interpreting you wrongly. “sorry for the bother.”

you handed him a slice of pizza, already devouring yours. “that was my first kiss.” he heard you began the topic he thought was long forgotten. “but i’m somehow glad it was you.”

“why?” he munched on his slice, anticipation was leading him on the more he waited for an answer. stupid stupid heart, he told himself.

should i say it or should i not? you thought. the thing was, he was here. the opportunity was already given and if you chose to confess later, it would be more awkward. screw it, i’m confessing. 

with uncertainty and slight fear, you exhaled. “because i like you a lot.” you said, now turning away due to heat spreading your cheeks. “a lot more than i like captain america- i mean chris evans.”

he dropped his food onto his plate, lips forming a pressed smile but he remained his composure knowing that he would probably lose control any second. jaehyun tapped on your shoulders, making you turn to him. “is that so? then i’m glad i didn’t remember the kiss.” his voice low and lovely. 

you tilted your head without seeing his red ears. “what do you mean?”

jaehyun, without hesitations, leaned forward and cupped your jaw. the warmth of his lips onto yours was warmer than the food in your hand. he let go of you, planting boop on your nose.

“‘cause i wanna remember kissing you when i’m sober. i like you a lot too.”

[docholligay]

Pharah / Mercy: Surprise date while working late

Cute Pharah/Mercy fluff, about 1400 words! All of HON HON HON is here! 

The Oasis

Her mice weren’t cooperating. 

Well, they were as cooperative as mice could be, but this was to say, she had utterly failed to fix the problem she had caused in them. Pradeep wasn’t even sure she had managed to break the mice the right way. 

“Not your fault, Angela,” He said, looking over their tiny scans, “It’s just such a weird injury, and it’s hard to say if it’s along the same lines. Presentation is the nearly the same, though, so, there’s hope.” 

He’d sent her that hope, along with a huge bundle of suggestions on moves he might make, and things he might do, to try to stop or reverse the degeneration. Pradeep was one of the best neurologists in the world, and he was, at core, a kind man, however much his blunt approach made him better for the lab. He’d probably spent plenty of his own late-night hours trying to think of something for Mercy’s sake. 

But still, her mice took the same path, in their abbreviated little lives, and even when she managed to slow it, it always came to the same end. It had for months. 

Bent over her notes and a few books on chemistry and neurology, Mercy entered hour seven of her today’s work. There were things she utterly preferred about field medicine, no matter how many times people told her it was a waste of her immense talents, and one of those things was the immediacy of every problem and solution. It took a quick, agile mind, dextrous hands, and answers, whether they were good or ill, came quickly in medical tents. This was a chess game, played against an opponent she did not understand with pieces she loved dearly. It played out in slow, aching moments, as she tried to think and consider every move it might make, play out every puzzle and endgame in her mind. 

She hadn’t looked at the clock, and the lab lacked a window. For her, it may as well have been late morning, the lunch Pharah packed for her still tucked in the fridge down the hall. Her hair hung in her face, the looping script of her handwriting uneven on the page as she took another drink of coffee. Just a few more pages. Just another journal article to read. Just one more idea. 

It wasn’t until she heard the knock at the laboratory door that it even occurred to her to look down at her scrub watch. It was nearly eight o clock, and, more horrifyingly, the date on it told her tonight she was meant to be dining with Pharah. She had planned the whole thing, even reminding Mercy this morning, and here she sat---

Mercy quickly began to put things back on the shelves, even as she yelled for whoever it was to come in. She put her notebook back in the drawer and spun around to see her wife standing there, a picnic basket in one hand, wine bottle in the other. 

“Fareeha,” Mercy’s eyes filled with tears, frustration and sorrow and love all building up, “I am feeing so--I’m sorry, It was only--” 

Pharah shook her head with a soft smile. “You have been so distracted lately. I planned for it.” 

Mercy wiped her eyes and looked at Pharah, her strong bearing hiding the kindness of her eyes for all but those brave enough to look her in them. She had worn a crisp collar under one of Mercy’s favorite sweaters, pants neatly pressed, and shoes shined. The basket was large, and Mercy noted the label of the wine bottle as one of her favorites. 

“This, of course,” Pharah gestured, “is very scenic, but I thought we might at least try for somewhere else. A change of view, for you.” 

Mercy nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear. “The roof? I could--”

Pharah chuckled. “You are distracted. It is London, and it is February, and so, there is a horribly cold rain, like every day in this city. No,” she extended her hand, “I’ve planned. With help, of course. Your techs very much believe you work too hard, Angela.” 

She put up the last of the books and walked over to Pharah, tucking herself under her arm. “It is not the first time I am hearing that.”

“Or the last.” Pharah kissed her cheek. “The workday is done, for now.” 

She led Mercy down the hallway, and popped open what at one time Mercy had known to be a large closet where the residents sometimes napped, but there was a thick wool blanket thrown over the small bed, and a few candle lit on the table Pharah had set in front of it, complete with a tablecloth and napkins. Two crystal wine glasses awaited, a few stems of flowers in a little vase. She had draped over the supplies with some dark fabrics and tapestries, twinkle lights found up the side,  making the effect much more of a latter-day take on an Arabian palace than the sad medical closet it had been in all of Mercy’s memories. 

“Oh, Fareeha,” she nuzzled her face against her chest, “Beautiful.” 

“I hoped you would like it,” She hugged Mercy and then set down the basket on the table, “And so much cheaper and less busy than going out.” 

Mercy sank into the bed as she sat, suddenly realizing just how tiring her day had been, and just how happy she was to be in Pharah’s presence again. She closed her eyes a moment, and felt the clip come out of her hair, a brush running through it slowly as Pharah smoothed it. It was so nice, to be so cared for. Mercy loved her work, and loved that she could help people, and make their lives better, and heal them. But with Pharah, there was the feeling of also being cared for. Of knowing there was someone to catch her when she fell. 

Her hair was carefully placed back in it’s every present clip, her lab coat slipped off, and a soothingly soft sweater put in its place. It was such a small shift, but suddenly Mercy was no longer at work, but admiring the spread Pharah began to lay out on the table, fruits and olives and cheeses, complimented by beautifully cut and arranged breads and crackers, some lovely small cakes tucked into the corner of it, an extra bottle of wine in deference to what might have been a hard day for Mercy. 

It would always be difficult for Mercy to articulate how very much she loved her wife. How much her calm, still, reliable demeanor absolutely filled her with a peace she had never known elsewhere. When Pharah did something, it would always be done well, just as this. When Pharah promised something, it was an oath on her life. When the world was so unpredictable, Pharah was always a safe harbor. They did not make love stories about things like that, about people like her, for the world did not understand the remarkable gift of her. Even Pharah herself might not understand that she was a rare treasure indeed. 

Mercy felt the tension leave her shoulders in the candlelight, as Pharah pressed a glass of the deep red into her hand. 

“Thank you, for all of this.” Mercy smiled as she took a sip. “You did so much work, Schatzi.” 

“Oh no,” Pharah shook her head, and poured her own small glass of wine, “It was this, or I sat in the office and listened to Tracer make ridiculous arguments about the plans for the new headquarters. This was much more productive, as a use of my time.” She smiled to Mercy. “You saved me.” 

“You have saved me,” Mercy looked at her beautiful, powerful, wonderful wife, “in every way a person can be saved.” 

Pharah stopped a moment. “I love you. That’s everything you need to know. I always will.” She took Mercy’s chin in her hand, and kissed her gently. “Now. I can guess that you have eaten exactly nothing today.” 

Mercy didn’t even try to argue, simply shook her head as Pharah, not needing a response to know what was true, began to prepare her a plate. Mercy took the napkin into her lap, continuing her sips of wine and enjoying the warm and loving glow surrounding her, a magic she never could have imagined for herself. 

The mice weren’t cooperating. But somehow, surrounded by twinkling lights in the warm coziness of everything Pharah had managed to make in a forgotten closet in a research wing, everything seemed possible. The world and whatever its truths might be could lay outside the door all they wanted, but in here, Mercy only needed to know one thing:

Pharah loved her, and she loved Pharah.

[bellablue42]

Myself as a writer and Death of the Author

I’m trying to write a novel, and it’s really hard. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere, I’m on my fifth draft and trying to create a lengthy enough narrative that doesn’t feel like filler. It is difficult, to say the least, and I really admire people with the ability to write quickly and well. 

But there’s a lot about She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named going around again, and it made me think. We all know that she’s not the best person, but she is a writer, and she is a creator, and her works are widespread. And that... causes problems.

Is it ok to consume her work? How much do her opinions reflect in her work, and can we spot it? I have no idea, but here’s my best shot, as an aspiring writer and a high-school literature student.

Please be warned I have no experience, and I’m kind of making this up as I go along, but here we go.

Last year, at the start of the school year, in Literature, my class watched Midnight in Paris. The movie was written and directed by Woody Allen, who is... well-known for all the wrong reasons, namely allegedly assulting seven-year-old Dylan Farrow. One of the girls in my class pointed out this fact, and my teacher nodded and said that we were discussing Death of the Author.

Death of the Author is an interesting topic. It holds that an author’s intentions and background should have no impact on interpreting a text. It is interesting, and it is really bloody hard to do.

Keep in mind that if you pick up a book by a relatively famous author, you will know something about them. If you take Mrs Dalloway, for example, if you’ve ever heard of Virginia Woolf, you will doubtless know that she was a writer and that she committed suicide, even if you know nothing else. The fact that she did commit suicide will influence the way you read Mrs Dalloway.

If you read Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath, for example, you will probably know that Plath was not mentally healthy and committed suicide by sticking her head in an oven. And that will influence the way you read Lady Lazarus. If you read any of Lovecraft’s work, you will come to the conclusion that he is a racist. It’s not hard to figure out.

Death of the Author means separating these facts from the way you interpret a work. It is really hard, trust me.

Because we look for links, everywhere we look for these links. We know that Sylvia Plath committed suicide, so when you read Lady Lazarus, you make connections. Go read Lady Lazarus now, go read it knowing that Plath committed suicide, and keep that fact in mind. Here’s the link: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49000/lady-lazarus

Now read it again, and try to forget it, all the connections you made knowing that Plath stuck her head in an oven. It is really hard to do, because you know, and you remember. Death of the Author is forgetting the context of the author, forgetting their impact on the text.

Here’s a thing, I write a lot. Like, a lot. Not published, obviously, but I write about as much as I read, and that is a lot. And I believe, that when you write, you put a bit of yourself into it. It doesn’t have to be obvious, maybe just the way you connect to a character, or your views on a topic. I can’t say I don’t do this - my main character is an asexual lesbian who panics a lot and loves her girlfriend. Her competence doesn’t come from me, but the gender, the sexuality, the panic? All of that is inspired by, you know, me. My experiences, my opinions. I am conscious in my word choices, I’m trying not to use gendered language for the soldiers, because they are men, women, non-binary, genderfluid and others, all together, so my main character can’t call them her men, they are her soldiers. It’s hard. I’m aware that I have biases, and my reading experiences are usually texts that ... do not do this. 

Sorry, I’m rambling, and no-one wants to know. 

But I as a writer, put a bit of myself in my work. And I think that’s what makes Death of the Author so hard to do, so hard to remember. 

And now onto HER. I can’t remember what brought my attention to her in the first place, maybe a post about a Harry Potter tv show?

The problem about JK Rowling is that she wrote Harry Potter. And Harry Potter is... huge. The problem is that we grew up on Harry Potter. 

Looking back, there are big problems with the series; plot holes bigger than my fist, a lack of original plot lines, and little creativity. Harry Potter is a mishmash of already well-established genres and archetypes, and it... doesn’t fit together particularly well. 

(Take Dumbledore, at once the mentor archetype from the fantasy genre and the authority figure in the boarding school genre. The problem is that being both causes a bit of dissonance. He mimics the typical ‘wise old mentor wizard’ from fantasy, like Gandalf, but he is also a school headmaster. He is a grandfatherly teacher who takes an interest in the son of two of his past students, nothing particularly new, but at the same time, he’s a figure out of legend, an incredibly powerful man, both magically and politically. It is hard for my brain to fit them together well because they are two different archetypes and they don’t mesh. They belong in different genres, because the way he is written can’t seem to decide which one he is. I might write more on this later if anyone’s interested)

But Rowling’s a TERF. And she’s been on Twitter and said all sorts of bizarre things about the odd mish-mash of genres she’s created. I’m not really a fan of Harry Potter anymore, I grew up with it. I have seven books in a shoebox under my bed. I have read far better books, I have read many, many books with more interesting stories, better internal consistency and characters with actual depth, who don’t need fandom to be interesting. 

And yet I still have all seven books in a shoebox under my bed. It’s hard. I genuinely liked the books - when I was twelve. I’d sooner recommend the Discworld books by the late great Sir Terry Pratchett than Harry Potter, and not just because of HER. They’re better books. Harry Potter is average. 

But we loved them. 

And Rowling’s a TERF. Her views on trans people are... not okay, by any measure. I don’t have words for ... how great the cognitive dissonance is. She wrote a series, a seven-book, eight-movie series, about the power of unconditional love. Over a million words, just under 20 hours about acceptance and tolerance. And yet she doesn’t believe that trans women are women. 

The problem is that it is hard to apply Death of the Author. Once you know that JK discriminates against transgender people, it is hard to read Harry Potter without remembering that. 

Then you get into other issues about how all of the endgame couples are straight. And Dumbledore’s only gay when the series is ended. And there’s a lack of diversity in the books and the movies. And once you start reading into it, it gets ... iffy. Because it’s not meant to be read into, not meant to be analysed. It’s a children’s series. But it’s problematic, not for the things it says, but fo the things it doesn’t say.

The thing is that SHE is impressive. As a writer, at least, not as a person. Because it is hard to write, and she managed an extensive, relatively-coherent storyline across seven books, released over ten years. But her first book got rejected, again and again. 

Her net worth is somewhere between 650 million and 1.2 billion. And she earns all that money off a book series whose main themes are friendship and love. And she’s a TERF.

I can’t say I hate her - I don’t know her. She might be a genuinely nice person, but she’s a TERF. She doesn’t believe that trans people are the gender that they say they are. I cannot understand how you can believe that, but. She does, apparently. She wrote so much about love conquering all evil, and friendship saving the day, but she doesn’t think that trans women should be allowed into female bathrooms.

I hate her ideology. 

Go read Discworld instead. Think about Death of the Author, then read Night Watch. It’s a great book. Or go read Good Omens, because Pratchett co-wrote that. 

The thing about Discworld is that you can tell what Pratchett thinks is worth paying attention to. Small Gods is primarily about religion, about belief, and about people. The last one is the most important, because Pratchett believed that the greatest thing you can be is human and kind, and he’s right. The witches on the Discworld are... perhaps not nice, but they are decent, and they are fundamentally people. They are human, and they are kind, and that is what makes them good people. 

The thing about Harry Potter is that “Muggle” sounds like a slur. There’s all this attention paid to the whole “mudblood” thing that people forget that behind all the blood purity nonsense - which sounds a lot like eugenics - the purebloods, the rich entitled kids, believe that non-magical people are less than animals. The Wizarding world is stuck in the Middle Ages, not even the bloody Renaissance. Human history has passed them by. It is so hard now to read Harry Potter without finding problems, like how all the magicals are fundamentally stupid, how a literal one-year-old is praised for supposedly killing an extremely powerful mass-murdering psycopath. A one-year-old. The Wizarding World is not a functional society, and it’s not meant to be. It’s not meant to hold up to scrutiny.

Look, Harry Potter is average, at best. Ask me for good kids books and I will point you in a dozen different directions, and I will point you in a dozen different directions - but not there. 

Because Death of the Author is hard. Not taking the creator’s intentions and background into account when interpreting a work is hard. You can know that an author is queer, or a person of colour, or of a certain religion, but once you know it, it is hard to not see it. 

You see, all the main characters in Harry Potter are white. They’re also all straight. Everyone not Harry Potter is flat. There is very little depth to anyone in those books, because they don’t matter. Hermione is defined by her relationship with Ron because her relationship is the most debated part of her character. Ron - in the movies at least - is seen as stupid because he is written stupid, he is written as comic relief. Book-verse Ron is a strategist, but that’s only really shown in the first two books. They’re not written with depth, they don’t need it. Harry’s the protagonist, Hermione’s the smart one, Ron’s the dumb-but-loyal comic-relief best friend. Ginny is the love interest, Luna’s the crazy one, the twins are comic-relief pranksters. Draco is the racist antagonist, Voldemort is a more extreme mass-murdering version. There are exactly zero trust-worth adults in a whole seven-book series, there are three? characters with depth in the whole series, everyone else is defined by a role and a single characteristic.

It is so hard to look critically at Harry Potter and not see everything that relates to Rowling. It is problematic as a series, and problematic as content created by a TERF. It is problematic as literature in the first place. It’s written as a kids book, but for all its ‘adult’ themes, it can’t stand up to scrutiny.

This got long - I got a bit carried away. Sorry.

Tell me what you think, tell me your opinion. I’d love to discuss this with you because it so hard to write about. Argue with me, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m right if you think I am. Have I said anything problematic? Please lets start talking about this because it’s interesting and a difficult topic, and I think we need to start looking closer at authors and content creators. 

[wren-fell]

Stuck in Borderland

Chapter 2.2: Six of Diamonds Part 2

Warnings: language, weapons, violence, talk of death

All characters are ocs except for Kuzuryu who belongs to Haro Aso, thanks for reading!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who the fuck would be able to solve this!?” Kaoru yelled pulling on his hair.

“It’s not unsolvable, but with how long it is. It’ll be time consuming,” Kuzuryu muttered as he approached the board.

Sayaka watched the equation before approaching the board, “I know this was meant for me,” she paused to glance at Kuzuryu, “but I think that the best way to approach this is that Akiko, you, and me each take a portion of the problem and work it through.”

Kuzuryu watched her for a second before nodding, “that would be the smartest solution.”

Sayaka looked over her shoulder to call over to Akiko, but she was already approaching the board, “okay, I’ll take this portion, Kuzuryu you do this one, and Sayaka you do that one,” she delegated.

Sayaka nodded saluting her, “yes ma’am!”

The three of them picked up a piece of chalk and started working. It seemed like it was forever before Sayaka took a step back as she circled the number, “that’s what I got.” Akiko and Kuzuryu paused as they analyzed the board.

“That seems correct…” Akiko muttered.

“That answer is…” the voice paused and they all held their breath, “INCORRECT.”

The ceiling began lowering and Kaoru rounded on them, “what the fuck did you do wrong?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Akiko turned to the board scanning over everyone’s work.

“There’s got to be something we did wrong,” she whispered.

“What about here?” Kuzuryu pointed.

“Yes, that doesn’t look right,” Akiko agreed erasing it and fixing the rest of the work before circling a new number, “there. That’s the answer.”

“That answer is…” they all stared at the ceiling as it continued to get closer and closer, “INCORRECT!” There was a loud bang as the ceiling dropped two feet and continued to slide down.

“Oh my god!” Sayaka screamed flattening herself against the wall.

“What did we do wrong?! I don’t understand!!” Akiko called turning the board.

“Fix it! Fix it!” Daichi screamed as him and Kaoru tried to hold the ceiling up by stacking the desks.

“There are 15 minutes remaining.”

“Here!” Kuzuryu erased a line of Sayaka’s work and redid it, “the answer is square root 5.”

“That answer is…” they all stared at the spikes in the ceiling as they got closer and closer, “correct! Please proceed to the next room.”

The door next to the board slid opened, and they all scrambled over the desk to get to it. One of the spikes caught the desk tower Kaoru and Daichi had been making causing it to collapse knocking Sayaka and Akiko over as they ran towards the door. Sayaka looked over her shoulder at Akiko who was pulling on her leg frantically, “I’m stuck!” she screeched.

Sayaka pulled herself onto her hands and knees and crawled over to Akiko shoving her shoulder into the desks, but they wouldn’t budge. The spikes were getting closer and closer leaving only three quarters of the door out visible.

“Don’t leave me,” Akiko whimpered.

“I’m not,” Sayaka slammed her weight against the desk pile, but it wouldn’t budge. She leaned back on her hands breathing heavily. Gritting her teeth Sayaka laid on her back and pushed her feet against the pile.

“It’s moving!” Akiko called.

“Great get crawling,” Sayaka grunted as she struggled to keep herself from slipping on the linoleum floor. Akiko groaned as she struggled to get her legs free, but managed to wiggle out of the pile, as the spikes in the ceiling collided with the pile again causing it to shift all the weight onto Sayaka’s legs.

“Fuck!”

“Sayaka!” Akiko screamed.

“Just go!” Akiko hesitated, but turned and army crawled towards the door.

Sayaka gritted her teeth, this was so stupid, had Kuzuryu not wasted all that time arguing with her in the 4th room they wouldn’t be in this mess. She wouldn’t be in this mess. Everyone else had already made it out of the room.

“ARGH!” She let out a frustrated scream, “I’m not going to die here. I’ve come too far to die in a stupid diamonds game!” She brought her knees towards her chest a little bit before slamming her feet into the desk pile causing it to shift back just enough that she was able to roll to the side as they fell forward.

“Sayaka come on!” Akiko called from the half disappeared doorway. Sayaka pulled herself forward with her hands, and pushed with her bare toes as she kicked off her flip flops.

“Stupid fucking beach rules,” she cursed as she crawled. She made it to the doorway where Akiko and Daichi grabbed her by her arms yanking her through, and the door slammed shut behind them.

Sayaka laid on her stomach breathing heavily letting her forehead rest against the cool floor. “Sayaka you’re the chemist what’s the answer?” Kuzuryu spoke making her raise her head slowly to glare at the board, “What substance that is commonly found in houses will form a precipitate with an aqueous solution of barium chloride?”. That’s right, she thought to herself, there are still four more rooms.

“Baking soda,” she wheezed pushing herself up onto her hand and knees.

Kuzuryu scribbled the answer onto the board and they all waited for the voice, “that answer is… correct! Please proceed to the next room.”

“Ugh,” Sayaka forced herself to her feet and trudged towards the door as it swung open.

“Sayaka,” Akiko said as they walked into the next room, “thank you.”

Sayaka laughed, “don’t thank me yet, we’ve got 3 more.”

Kuzuryu was already scribbling an answer onto the board in room seven as they walked in. “I was a lawyer this is an easy question for me,” he stated as the voice chimed overhead that the answer was correct, and the door leading out opened up.

“Fine by me,” Sayaka shrugged as she followed him through the next doorway, “if it’s right, it’s right.”

The question on the board in room eight was once again difficult, “they must be alternating. Even rooms are hard and odd rooms are easier questions,” Sayaka muttered.

“Seems like a reasonable explanation, but doesn’t help us,” Kuzuryu agreed as they looked at the board, “What year was Rome founded in?” It was a simple question, but obscure enough that it would take a very specific person to be able to answer it.

“There are 10 minutes remaining.”

Sayaka sighed and ran a hand through her hair, “where to begin…”

“It was in early 750 BC.” They snapped their heads around to Daichi as he took a hesitant step towards the board, “but I can’t remember the exact date,” he admitted sheepishly.

“How do you know?” Kaoru sneered.

Daichi sighed, “I was studying history when I was younger,” he paused, “I had to drop out when my dad died, and we needed someone to work and pay the bills.”

Sayaka watched Daichi for a second really looking at him for the first time. He was probably in his late 20s to early 30s, the oldest out of her group of five, with his black hair cropped close to his head, and lines around his eyes making him look older than he probably was. Daichi walked up to the board and began writing “75” in chalk.

“It’s great that you know that, but I don’t think the game makers will take early 750 BC as the answer…” Sayaka muttered.

“I know…” Daichi replied as he held the chalk over the third number.

“We just have to pick one,” Kuzuryu said.

Sayaka watched the board before turning to Kaoru and Akiko, “get over to the door now. If we get this wrong we need to get out as fast as possible when we redo it,” she ordered. Kaoru glared at her, but rushed over to the door regardless with Akiko close behind.

“Alright Daichi,” Sayaka said turning to him, “take your guess.”

He nodded and wrote the number 0 on the board, and set the chalk back down, “that answer is…” The silence seemed to stretch on as they waited, “INCORRECT.”

The telltale grinding sound began and the spikes slid out as the ceiling began to drop, “try again!” Akiko yelled.

“Alright 751 BC!” Daichi yelled scribbling it onto the board.

“That answer is incorrect!” The ceiling dropped two feet and they all winced.

“Again!”

“752 BC!”

“That answer is incorrect!” The ceiling dropped again now beginning to cover the top of the doorway out.

“Again!” She snapped.

“But, if it’s wrong we’ll die!” Daichi said looking over his shoulder at her.

“If you don’t answer we’ll die anyway!” Kuzuryu replied.

“Okay,” Daichi drew in a deep breath as he picked the chalk back up and wiped the 2 away with the side of his hand, “Rome was built in 753 BC.”

“That answer is… correct! Please proceed to the next room.” The door slid open. Sayaka grabbed Daichi and shoved him through the doorway as the spikes barely grazed their heads.

“There are 5 minutes remaining.” The voice echoed overhead as the door slid shut.

“Alright two more to go we can do this,” Sayaka muttered to herself as she walked towards the board. “To the nearest meter how long is the human small intestine?”

“I got this one,” Sayaka declared as she wrote “2 m” on the board.

“That answer is correct! Please proceed to the next room.”

They all ran into the final room with Sayaka being the last to enter as the voice chimed overhead again, “there are 3 minutes remaining.”

“It’s another electrical engineering question,” Akiko said as she approached the board. “An electric motor that runs at 3/4 of its full-load potential of 200 amperes is operating at how many amps?” She hesitated staring at it for a moment with her eyebrows drawn together and her lips pursed.

“Just answer it then Akiko!” Kaoru snapped.

“I have to think this is something that was new to me at school too,” she replied.

“Well we don’t have time!” Kaoru snarled. Sayaka glared at him. Not that she liked the militants much before, but Kaoru had done literally nothing to contribute to their success so far in the game.

“Let her think!” Sayaka yelled. Kaoru rounded on her.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth! We’ve already determined you’re not executive material,” Kaoru replied acting like he would’ve even been remotely apart of that decision.

“I don’t give a damn about being an executive. I just want to survive. More than I can say for you. What have you done to help us through this so far!?” Sayaka snapped at him rage bubbling in her chest.

“Me?! What have you done?” Kaoru screeched tossing a desk to the side as he approached her, “besides acting like you’re the fucking leader around here! I’m the one with the gun. I’m in charge!” He snapped waving the hand gun in the air before pointing it towards Sayaka.

“Why don’t I just get rid of you?” He growled baring his teeth.

“Oh yea? Because that’s going to make you feel so much fucking better!” Sayaka waved her hands in the air, “about being a goddamn waste of spa—“ she was cut off by the voice overhead.

“That answer is INCORRECT!” The ceiling started dropping, and Sayaka and Kaoru snapped around the Akiko.

“What the fuck Akiko!?” Kaoru called.

“I’m trying!” She snapped frantically erasing her work on the board with the back of her hand.

“Two minutes remaining.”

“Akiko come on!”

“Shut the fuck up for once!” Sayaka screamed.

Kaoru turned around and tossed more desks aside so he could jam the handgun into Sayaka’s chest, “tell me to shut up again, I fucking dare you!” He snarled baring his teeth.

“Go for it,” she dared.

“For someone who says they’re trying to survive. You’ve got a real fucking death wish,” he hissed.

“Maybe I’m just calling your bluff,” she replied staring at him. She could see the hesitation in his eyes. No one wanted to be here, and no one certainly wanted to kill anyone. Well, at least they didn’.

“That answer is correct! Please proceed out of the building.” They both snapped out of their stare down to the door as it slid open.

“There are 30 seconds remaining.”

Akiko and Kuzuryu scrambled out the door, followed closely by Daichi and Kaoru was close behind. Sayaka ran towards the door jumping over the desk Kaoru had flung to the side, and vaulting herself over the next one. She ran a few paces before dropping onto her side sliding through the half blocked doorway.

The door slammed shut behind her and Sayaka laid on the cold pavement of the parking lot with a sigh as her phone lit up and chimed. “Congratulations! Game cleared. A 6 day visa has been issued to all participants.” Sayaka looked at the phone before tossing it across the lot.

“Fuck off,” she muttered letting her head rest back against the pavement.

“Are you alright Sayaka?” Akiko asked from where she was sitting.

“Yea, I’m okay,” she breathed before laughing and throwing her arm over her eyes, “fuck. They took the name Trivia Crush way too seriously.”

“That’s for sure,” Akiko chuckled.

“Hey!” They both glanced over at the boys, “let’s get going!” Kuzuryu said.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming,” Sayaka grumbled as she sat up.

Akiko smiled and held a hand out to her helping her to her feet. Kaoru came up behind her and smacked her ass before leaning down towards her ear, “great job in there kitten. What do you say we celebrate in my room when we get back?” he cooed.

“Uh, yea we could,” she mumbled putting a hand to his chest.

“Sounds good to me kitten,” he smacked her ass again before heading to the car ahead of them.

Sayaka frowned looking at Akiko, “charming.”

She gave her a sheepish look, “yea…”

“You could do better,” Sayaka mumbled watching Kaoru talk with Daichi at the car, “even here.”

“I guess…”

“Let’s get going!” Kaoru called.

“Let’s go home,” Akiko said looking at Sayaka before heading to the car.

Sayaka hesitated, “if that’s what you want to call it.”

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia - Chapter 83: Of Sound and Wings

Continuing my nextgen MHA fic!

Earlier chapters can be found here

To say Toshi was worried was an understatement.  While no one had said anything bad would happen if they lost the relay, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give it his all. Which meant he had to make sure he wasn’t going to let anyone else down either.  And he was more than certain that, however the relay worked out, Aizawa and Uncle Kacchan would be using whatever he saw to help format their lessons going forward.  Their teacher would just use any failings to push them all the harder.

He couldn’t allow his differences with Tatsuma to be the reason they failed.  While there hadn’t been any more violence or any scuffles between the U.A. and Shiketsu students (Not even from Katsumi, which seemed to be a minor miracle in and of itself), there was still a strained feeling when some members of the two groups interacted.  And Tatsuma had made a point of avoiding him.

He needed to be able to clear the air with the Shiketsu girl.  Even if there was still bad blood afterwards, he needed to apologize and he needed to make sure that they’d be able to work together.  Plenty of Heroes didn’t get along off the field but could put their differences aside enough to fight alongside each other.  He would have liked to at least get to that point.

They had a few minutes before they had to start getting ready, so he sought her out, finding her standing alone.  The other Shiketsu students looked to have already peeled off to find their respective U.A. partners.

“Ah, hey, Tatsuma,” he began.  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Tatsuma didn’t budge an inch. When she spoke she didn’t even turn around. “Later than I expected this to happen. The instructors have forced your hand.”

Toshi frowned and swallowed nervously.  “You’re right,” he said.  “I have been putting this off.”  Not very heroic of him, really.  “And the timing makes it look even less great than it already is.”

Best to just get it out there.

“I owe you an apology.”

She turned to look at him now. With her arms crossed and her stoic stance, it made her already tall figure even more imposing.

“For what?” The question is not one of confusion or lack of knowledge, but rather did he understand what he should be sorry about. 

Toshi was of average height for his age, with maybe a few more inches to go, but the way Tatsuma simply towered over most people did nothing to ease the situation.  “I was pretty insensitive when we talked near the beginning of the camp,” he began.  “And didn’t do a good job of listening to what you were actually saying.  It’s been pointed out that I don’t always see the privileged position my family gives me and I trivialized something very important to you.”

He looked up.  “And for that, I’m sorry.”

Tatsuma listened, looking at him carefully before speaking. “Well I can’t find a realistic problem with your apology. So..thank you.” Her eyes narrowed a bit. “I’d argue it’s something many Heroes should see as important, but now is a pointless time to argue it.”

Toshi nodded.  It was about as good a reaction as he could have hoped for.  Tatsuma didn’t seem like the type to lash out violently, the way Katsumi might (Though in truth, Katsumi was always more bark than bite), but he’d been deeply afraid of making things worse.  He was a Class Representative.  He was supposed to be a leader, someone others looked to and who helped make things right, not someone who caused trouble with other schools.  

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed.  “I’ve grown up around enough Heroes, not just my family…”   He winced slightly.  A reminder of all that probably wasn’t the best choice of words.  “But a lot of them question if they’re not good enough, if they’re not doing enough.  And their failures stay with them too.”

Dad didn’t talk about it much.  He wanted to keep a smiling face, especially for this family.  But as Toshi had gotten older, he’d been more willing to talk about the lives he couldn’t save, the times he was too slow or too late.  He’d wanted to impress upon Toshi that being a Hero could bring great joy, but that it would weigh you down too.

“I don’t know why the press or the public treated your mother differently.  But she didn’t deserve that.”

For a time, he had had her attention. Maybe he’d gotten this right. Tatsuma was also a Class Rep. and as such she represented her school. As much as she may have wanted to show up UA, she had to know holding grudges like that weren’t good for anybody.  And it was true that in the past, the rankings had led to a lot of damaging and toxic behavior.  You just had to look at Izzy’s grandfather for that.  But things were different now, right?  But when he mentioned her mother, he suddenly felt the situation change, the hairs on the back of his next standing up.

Human life had started long after the dinosaurs had died out, despite what a lot of science fiction would have people believe.  But if a man had been threatened by a t-rex, he was certain it would felt like what he was feeling now.

Toshi would later swear that he saw Tatsuma’s eyes go red. “Because of the damn rankings!” Smoke started to unfurl from her nostrils. “She fell from the all-mighty Top Ten! The heroes of all heroes! You think anyone says anything if someone drops a rank in the 20’s or 30’s? No, no one cares about their efforts. But if someone can’t cut being in the Top Ten-!” Her skin looked like a very thin layer of scales was forming. 

“That's all my mother ever heard! ‘You couldn’t cut it.’ ‘Leave it to the men!’ ‘You weren’t meant to be among the elite!” All because of how the rankings portray what Heroes are supposed to be!” 

She was now towering over Toshi now. “I won’t dismiss what your father has done for this country, or any of the others in the Ten, but if you can’t see how it has also harmed those who have done nothing but sacrificed-!” Her hands clenched. She was very, VERY close, then snarled and turned away. 

“Seung’s worked too hard to keep her emotions in control. I can’t disgrace that effort.” Tatsuma let out a breath, a steaming hot one. “You’ll never get it. You’re too ingrained. I should probably just accept that.” She was quiet for a moment, before finally speaking up again. “What else did you want?”

To his credit, Toshi had managed to stand his ground during Tatsuma’s tirade, only taking a slight step backwards once. As it was, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  “I’m sorry,” he began.  “This is important to you, I can tell.   And I’m sorry for the pain it’s caused you and your mom.  What happened to her wasn’t right and wasn’t fair.”

He straightened up a little.  Maybe this was too much meddling.  But wasn’t meddling the job of a Hero?  Tatsuma had so much anger in her, it was going to consume if she didn’t find a way to break it.

“And maybe I am too close to see some things.  But I’m also close enough to a lot of things to see some of the details.  When your mother started dropping in rankings, it was a different time.  The world was still hurting from the loss of All Might and wanted its Heroes to be more perfect than they were, than they could actually be.  I don’t know, can’t know, if that was the cause, but I’d be surprised if that didn’t have something to do with it. And none of that would make it right or fair if it did.  

“But while I can’t quote you chapter and verse like Shota could, I can tell you that plenty of people have risen and fallen out of the Top Ten in the last decade or more, and only the trashiest and least reputable ‘news’ sources and commentators are bad mouthing them.  Creati dropped down to Number Eleven a while back.  And you know what she did?  She congratulated Rodeo, who jumped up to Seven and knocked her ranking down.”

He frowned.  “What happened to Ryukyu wasn’t right.  I agree with you on that.  And you’ve every right to be angry about it.  But I don’t think it’s like that anymore.”

He shook his head.  Maybe there was still something he was missing.  But he had to try and bridge that gap.  “But maybe you’re right.  Maybe this is something we can’t agree on.  But can we work together?”

She looked back at him. “If Ground Zero and Deku could learn to work together, it would be embarrassing and shameful if we couldn’t.” There is the vaguest hint of a smile. Maybe he’d said some of the right things.  At least, he hadn’t made it any worse.

Toshi gave her a small smile of his own.  “Oh, the stories I could tell you about that…”

***

The Rookies’ relay course was set up in the woodlands around their compound, virtually invisible from the treetops, but complicated once you got to it.  There were bridges and swings, with complex structures built into the trees.  The tree line itself was thick with trees and other vegetation, making it difficult to see where any attack might be coming from.  Fortunately, their path was pretty straightforward.  

“You got Tomodachi okay?” Inuzaki asked.  He was ahead of Shota, in dog form, pausing every so often to sniff the air.

“Good enough,” Shota told him. The “civilian” they were rescuing was a training dummy, like the kind they used at U.A.  It was about the size of an adult man and loaded with sensors that would tally up injuries and damage.  They had immediately decided that he’d needed a name. Shota had him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.  He didn’t need his arms free to use his Quirk, after all.  

“He’s pretty heavy though!” Shota said.  “Maybe he should run the course too!”  He was in good shape—you couldn’t be in the Hero course and not be—but he wasn’t anywhere near as fit as Toshi, Kirishima-Bakugo, or Shoji.  Even Inuzaki was in better shape than him when he was in human form.  Still, his joke did get a laugh out of Inuzaki, so it was worth it.

Dad always said you had to take care of your body as much as your Quirk.  Maybe he needed to start working out more.  Toshi was always working out.  But he got up so early to do it!

 “Smell anything?” Shota asked.

Inuzaki stopped and shook his head.  “Maybe.  Lots of smells.  I can smell people.  Mostly the Rookies.  They’ve been through here a lot.  Might be trying to make it confusing.”

“Let me try,” Shota said.  He took in a breath then started to unleash one of his sonar-screams, but stopped when Inuzaki started whining.

He cut the scream immediately.  “What, what is it?” Shota asked.

Inuzaki winced.  “Your scream hurt my ears,” he said, quietly.  “It was like a knife through my skull!”

Crap!  His Quirk and Inuzaki’s weren’t compatible?  How were they going to do this?  He had to scream to use his Quirk!  When they got attacked, he’d have to use it!  But if it hurt his friend, then what could he do?  Maybe it was only certain frequencies?

“That’s only when you’re a dog, right?” Shota asked.  “Change back for a second.  I’ll get a quick look and then we can keep going.”

“Okay,” Inuzaki agreed.  He stopped though, his back leg scratching at his ear.  “Hang on, gotta scratch first.”

“Oh!  How cute!”

The girlish voice seemed to come from nowhere.  It could only be Ojiro!  But where was she?!

Inuzaki sniffed.  “Ah ha!  Got you!”  He jumped up and seemed to collide with something in mid-air.  Ojiro reappeared as they hit the ground.  

“Oh, dang it!” Ojiro cried out.  She tried to get up, but Inuzaki’s weight was keeping her down.  “I got distracted!

“Hold her still!” Shota said.  They’d been given ‘capture cuffs’ so that they could harmlessly take their classmates out of the fight, though there was a good chance they’d have to do at least a little damage.  He had some in his pocket, but he also had the dummy!  Crap!  What were they going to…  Inuzaki changed back to his human form in a puff of smoke.  He had capture cuffs too!  Right.  Why was he worried?

Ojiro was quick though, using that moment of transition to act.  She brought her legs up, flipping Inuzaki over her, then sprang up to her feet.  “So close!” she said.  “But not quick enough!”  Meanwhile, Inuzaki changed back to dog form in midair, landing easily.  He and Ojiro circled each other warily.

Before he could help, the ground started shaking.  Shota swallowed hard.  He remembered now, one of Class 1-B had a vibration-based Quirk, didn’t she?  Mio Yamaguchi, a dark haired girl.

The vibrations picked up intensely, knocking Shota off his feet.  He hit the ground, twisting to minimize the damage to Tomodachi, but he knew he took at least a small hit.  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Shota told the dummy.  Carefully getting back to his feet, he looked around for any sign of Yamaguchi or anyone else.  Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Ojiro and Inuzaki fighting.

He wanted to help.  He really did.  But if there was more trouble coming, somebody had to watch.

Doing the right thing sucked sometimes.   But he had to trust that Inuzaki was going to be able to handle it.   “Better hold your ears, Tomodachi,” he told the dummy.  “It might get loud!”  If he kept his powers really focused, hopefully he’d wouldn’t hurt Inuzaki either.

There.  Yamaguchi stepped into view, looking beyond Shota.  “Can’t you catch one dog, Ojiro?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

From behind him, Ojiro called out.  “It’s really hard!  He’s really fast!”

Yamaguchi rolled her eyes.  “Okay, let me just take care of the kid and I’ll help.”  She brought up both of her hands, unleashing vibrational waves that seemed to blur the air in front of her.

Dang it!  Just because he was short and a few months younger, it didn’t mean he was a baby!  Why did everybody treat him like he was a little kid!

“YOU’RE NOT GONNA STOP ME!” he shouted, clenching his fists.  He unleashed his Quirk, turning a shout into a broad sonic wave.  His wave met Yamaguchi’s vibrational blast in mid-air, where there was a small explosion of air as the two different waves hit each other, before his own caused hers to dispense. Somewhere behind him, he heard Inuzaki yelp.  He just prayed his new friend could hold on.

“What?” Yamaguchi said.  “How’d you do that?”

Shota grinned.  “I canceled out your vibrations with my own!”  Maybe not as good as Uncle Shota’s Erasure, but his sonic vibrations could stop hers well enough.

Again and again, Yamaguchi threw her vibrational blasts at him, but Shota kept canceling them out. Her vibrations were at least as strong as his sonics.  Keepings up that kind of pace, matching vibration with vibration, was making his skull rattle. Even without the blasts hitting him, he could practically feel the vibrations in his bones.  Even though he wasn’t used to fighting someone with powers even a little bit like his own, he was holding his ground, but if he didn’t do something, he was sure to lose!

“Okay, that’s it…” Yamaguchi said. A look of annoyance crossed her face. “Guess it’s time to bring down the house!”  Her eyes narrowed and she brought both hands together and pointed them down, ready to unleash another vibrational blast.  The air was practically humming as she charged up her power.  He had to do something… now!

Shota took in another breath and screamed, hitting the ground under Yamaguchi with a carefully modulated sonic pulse.  While he mostly used his Quirk for purely destructive sonic screams, he could do so much more than that depending on the frequencies he hit.  Everything from sonar to force fields to all kinds of other effects.  In this case, he could hyper-agitate molecules causing…

An explosion!  It wasn’t a big one, but the ground underneath Yamaguchi exploded, knocking her off her feet and several feet back.  As she landed, Shota rushed over, unclipping one of the capture cuffs from his belt.  Yamaguchi was still trying to get her bearings when he slapped one end on her wrist and then the other.

“All right!” he cheered.  “Got you!”  

Yamaguchi just stared at him, then rolled her eyes.  “Monoma’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”

Shota wondered why Monoma would give her a hard time.  She tried her best!  

“Oh, dang it!  This is so unfair!  How you can you be this cute and this tough?!  IF YOU WERE CLOSER, I’D GIVE YOU SUCH A SMACK!”

Shota’s attention was instantly drawn to where Inuzaki had managed to corner Ojiro.  She’d climbed up into a tree, and Inuzaki was back in dog form, circling the bottom of it.  

Inuzaki transformed back to his human shape.  “Can you get her down?  I’m not so good with climbing.”

Shota nodded.  “Let me try this one…”   He let lose another scream, shifting the pitch a bit.   This time, when his sonic attack hit the tree, it began to shake and vibrate violently, but it didn’t explode.

“Nnnnnnnoooo  fffffaaaaiiiirrrrr,” Ojiro wailed.  She was struggling to hang on and ultimately lost the fight.  She fell, landing flat on the ground.  “Ouch…”   She held her up arms.  “Just cuff me already.”

***

They’d probably gone another two kilometers, easy.  Shota wasn’t really good with eyeballing distances.  Every now and then, they’d trade off, with Inuzaki resuming his human form so he could carry Tomodachi and so Shota could scan the area with sonar.  But the forest was so thick with trees and everything else, it was hard to see anything that way.  Buildings were a lot easier.  

“How much further?” he asked.  He was pretty sure they’d been told how far they had to travel for the hand-off, but he may not have been paying the best attention.

“About another couple kilometers,” Inuzaki said.  “I think.  Everything looks bigger from down here.”

Not too much farther then.  But there were definitely more of his classmates or schoolmates out there, waiting for them.  Unless they were really dogpiling the other teams, there had to be at least one, maybe two more coming after them.  Even Shota could do that kind of math.

“Do you smell anything?” Shota asked.  It hadn’t worked so well last time, not with all the other smells in the forest, but maybe they’d get lucky.

Inuzaki made a weird face, one which looked even stranger on a dog.  “I smell something,” he said.  “Like ink, maybe?”

“Oh!” Shota said.  He knew who that was!  “Fukidashi!”

“The cartoon girl?” Inuzaki asked.  He sounded a little annoyed, which was surprising, given how well he got on with everyone.  “I tried talking to her a few times, but every time I did, she just kept going on about how cute I was. Just like the invisible girl. It got old really fast.”

Shota frowned, looking around.  Where could she be?  His eyes fell on a strange looking patch of ground.  “Do you see that?” he asked, pointing.

“Is that patch of ground a different color?” Inuzaki asked, curiously.  

Shota bent down and grabbed a stick from the ground.  Getting back up with Tomodachi on his shoulders was tricky, but he managed it.  He gave the stick a toss towards the patch of ground.

The stick hit something, making a small thunk sound.  Instantly, Anime Fukidashi sprang from the patch on the ground, partially covered in leaves and dirt.  “Aw,” Fukidashi said as she landed.  “How did you know?!”

“The ground was a different color,” Inuzaki said.  He bent down low, ready to pounce.  

“Dammit!” Fukidashi yelled.  Her head somehow got larger as she yelled, becoming larger than the rest of her body.  “Betrayed by the drawing on the animation cell!”

Inuzaki looked over at Shota.  “Is she all right?” he asked.  Shota just shrugged.  Even he and Toshi had no real idea how her Quirk worked or how it affected her.  

Before any of them could act, suddenly, something snaked around Tomodachi, yanking him off Shota’s shoulders!  There was Kaminari, coming out of the bushes behind Fukidashi, her Cords wrapped around the dummy and dragging it towards her.  He could even see a few sparks dancing across her Cords and areas of the dummy lighting up as it registered damage.

“Nice job being the distraction, Fukidashi,” Kaminari said.  Her expression turned slightly apologetic.  “Sorry Shinso, but you’re not winning this one.”

He couldn’t get in a good sonic blast with her holding Tomodachi like that.  He was in the way and she could still shock him either way.  “Aw, c’mon, Kaminari,” he said sadly.  “We gotta win this one!  Everybody’s counting on us!  I don’t want to disappoint everybody!  I just…  I just gotta…”

Her face fell as he talked.  There.  There was his moment.  “Aaaaah!” Shota let out a shout, a regular one, and charged, tackling Kaminari about the middle and knocking her to the ground. He hated tricking her like that, but if everybody was going treat him like a little kid, then maybe he should take advantage of that. He landed on top of her, with his head on her…  He jerked his head up quickly!

Kaminari’s Cords reflexively reeled in when he tackled her, but as she soon as she was able, her Cords poked into his back and unleashed a jolt of electricity.  It wasn’t a strong shock, just enough to make him release his grip, but it still hurt.  Shota let out a cry of pain and let go, as Kaminari shoved him off her.  As he hit the ground, he could see Fukidashi trying to hit Inuzaki with a comically oversized hammer.

“Dang it!” Fukidashi yelled when her latest hammer strike failed to hit Inuzaki.  “Why won’t the music change?  Isn’t he a comedy character?!”

Kaminari, meanwhile, was back on her feet, heading for Tomodachi again.  She was too close!  If he missed with a sonic blast, he’d hit the dummy.  But he’d been working hard on his Quirk all through the camp.  And Bioshock helped him figure out some other pitches he could use.  If he could go high, Bioshock had said, he could go low.

Infrasound.

He opened his mouth and pitched his sonic power low, buffeting Kaminari with waves of low-frequency sound.  She stopped in her tracks, suddenly clutching her stomach.  She wobbled on her feet, before falling to her knees, throwing up.   Shota was already on his feet, running past her.  “Sorry!” he called out.  “It won’t last long, I promise!  Sorry!  Sorry!  Sorry!”

As quick as he could, he hoisted Tomodachi over his shoulders again.

Inuzaki had Fukidashi cornered now, growling.   She let the hammer fall from her hands and it vanished as soon as it let her fingers.  “Sure, now the dramatic music plays.”

Inzuki reared up and hit Fukidashi hard with both front paws, knocking her to the ground.  She hit her head on the ground and laid there, stunned, with little cartoon birds floating around her head.

Shota definitely didn’t understand how her Quirk worked.

“C’mon,” he said, moving as fast as he could.  “They won’t be down for long!”

He and Inuzaki ran.  Soon enough, he could see Kocho and Shida waiting up ahead, standing next to a small sign that clearly marked the second leg of the relay.

They’d done it!

***

Shinso and Inuzaki had definitely looked worse for wear by the time they’d arrived and handed off the training dummy (Which they’d named, for some reason.) to Koharu and Shida.  The two had spun a tale of being ambushed twice, but had managed to successfully fight their way through.  It gave her a good idea of what to expect.  There would probably be at least four attackers then, though there might be more.  She’d done the math. There weren’t quite enough students for a totally even split.

At least for now, Shida was carrying the dummy.  With her spider-legs carrying her in a way that reminded Koharu a lot of how Shoji traveled with his own Quirk, she was able to hold the dummy in her arms and remain mobile.  Koharu herself was flapping her wings, floating just a bit above ground level.  That way, if they needed to engage, she wouldn’t waste any time on a takeoff.  The forest canopy, for now, meant moments to fly really high were going to be few and far between, but there was enough space between the trees that someone could still fly under it. 

And flying above the canopy had been strictly prohibited.  Even if it wasn’t against the rules, there were several other students with flight Quirks and it was likely at least one of them would be playing the Villain for their leg of the relay.  And she’d be leaving Shida behind if she did that, which seemed like it would defeat the purpose of the exercise. 

None of which did anything to quell her body’s primary panic at the spider-like aspects of the Shiketsu girl.  Given there were spiders that ate moths, it was a natural reaction for animal-type Quirks like theirs. She was getting better at it than when the camp had started, though.  It helped that the other girl was incredibly nice (and, she admitted with a blush, rather cute), but her instinctive reaction was still just below the surface.

On the plus side, the two of them were going to be incredibly hard to sneak up on.  Between Shida’s multiple-eyes and her own antenna, they had a range of extra-sensory perception.  

“See anything?” Koharu asked quietly.  Her antennae weren’t giving her any good information, unless you counted knowing where several squirrels and more than a few birds were.

“Not yet.” Shida said. If she’d noticed that Koharu tended to keep her distance from her, she didn’t let on but she seemed happy enough to be working with her. Her six eyes glanced about in multiple directions. “I doubt that will be the case much longer.” It didn’t help that she wasn’t sure where exactly to look. Knowing who the “Villains” were would have helped, but Heroes seldom had a heads-up. 

“Me neither,” she replied.  But Shida was right.  Sooner than later was to be expected.

It didn’t take long for that sooner to become now.  There was a great cracking sound and one of the trees fell, blocking the way forward for a moment.  Someone strong then, or maybe Kaniyashiki from 1-B with her scissor Quirk?  But even then, between her ability to fly and Shida’s legs, it would only slow them down for a minute.  So what was their enemy’s plan?

A sound like jet engines told her what it was: a distraction!

Faster than a bullet, one of the Iida twins--Sora, she realized--blasted through the air right towards them.  She was fast enough that Koharu couldn’t react in time to stop her, only to get out of the way.  Iida stuck an arm out as she flew past, grabbing the arm of the dummy Shida was carrying as she tried to rocket away.

Like Koharu, Shida hadn’t seen Sora coming. She’d told Koharu before they’d set out that, while spiders had six eyes, their sense of sight actually wasn’t all that strong. She could see more than most people, but only by volume, not by magnification. There was no way either of them should have been able to see her coming in time. But somehow, Akira’s second-from-the back left spider-leg to shot out in a reflexive strike. 

It was a solid strike, enough to send the Iida girl flying off course, slamming head first into a tree trunk.  She still had the dummy though, which made things complicated.  Already, she was scrambling back to her feet, although quite unsteadily.  Koharu spat a blob of String Shot at her, pinning her to the tree with a mass of sticky strands stronger than steel.

“How did you do that?” Koharu asked, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice.

Shida bowed her head slightly and smiled.  “My leg hairs.  They’re very sensitive to vibrations.  It’s a bit of an instinctive reaction to danger like that.”

“This is excellent tensile strength,” Iida said, as she struggled to break free.  She sounded impressed. Koharu could hear the other girl’s Jetpack engines firing, but for the moment, her String Shot held.  “I would love an opportunity to examine this at a later date! The uses are practically unlimited!”

“Sister!” a voice called out.  It had to be Tensei Iida.  “As much as I am in agreement with you, now is hardly the time for scientific curiosity!”

“It is always the time for curiosity, little brother!”

“I have asked you to stop calling me that!”

“Maybe you two could have this discussion another time?” Another voice asked.   It was Shoji. He sounded very, very tired. Koharu didn’t blame him. The Iidas were very nice, but they could also be exhausting.

Shoji dropped down from between two trees, using his extra arms like spider-legs, free-falling the last few feet to land with a slight thud.  Tensei Iida, meanwhile, dropped down with a series of shot Jetpack bursts to slow his fall.  Both of them were between Koharu and Shida and the dummy.

She shot Shida a quick glance.  “How long can you hold your breath?” she whispered.  Iida and Shoji were playing defense for the moment, watching them.  

“That’s a complicated answer with my mixed body. But I can “hold it” long enough. What are you planning?” Koharu remembered, vaguely, that spiders didn’t breathe in the same way as some animals, but she didn’t know how that applied to the spider-girl.

“I can drop a sleeping powder from my wing scales,” Koharu said quickly and quietly.  Shoji was eying them warily, all six of his arms up in a fighting stance, while Tensei Iida attempted to free his sister and the dummy without success.  “If I can cover a wide enough area, I can knock them out.  Iida’s crazy fast and Shoji’s crazy strong.  Probably the best chance we’ve got.”

“Hmm, I could use my legs to lift my body above the powder. Plus I should be able to use my leg hairs to feel the vibrations of where they might move even if I can’t see them,” Shida suggested. 

Koharu nodded.  These were all Hero students with months of training that she simply didn’t have.  And many of them had even more than that, coming from Hero families.  Neither side here had a full understanding of what the other could do, so evening out to neutral was the closest they had to an advantage. “Let’s do it.”

She flapped hard, gaining height and propelling herself forward towards the boys, already releasing her Sleep Powder from her wings.   Down below, Tensei Iida looked up and let out a cry of alarm, while Shoji moved towards Shida, his top pair of extra arms stretching out to grab at her.

Shida saw Shoji heading for her, scanning above herself with her uppermost eyes. Staying on the ground was a bad idea as she had no idea how strong Shoji really was. She bent her legs, took a moment to look Shoji in the eyes, and gave the six-armed boy a wink that Koharu would have called flirtatious, before her legs suddenly unbent and sent her flying up into the air. Shooting well up past the smaller trees, Shida extended several of her legs to pierce and grab onto the nearest larger specimen.  Others of her legs lashed out at Shoji.

Shoji dodged out of the way of the initial strike, pushing himself to the side with his lower set of arms.  “Good reflexes,” he said, his voice smooth, like silk. He craned his neck to follow Shida, top arms extending out at her, but his maximum extension wasn’t enough to get him close.

Meanwhile, having recovered from his initial shock, Tensei Iida was rocketing into the air.  He was a major threat, though without the armor and support equipment Koharu had seen him use during the final exam, possibly slightly less of one.   And she had the advantage in maneuverability.

She flapped hard as she flew, releasing her Sleep Powder from her wings until the air was filled with the orange powder.   Iida got the worst of it, flying directly into the cloud of it.  He coughed and sputtered and was out almost immediately.  Which meant that his Jetpack cut out and he started falling like a stone.  Koharu cursed and went into into a dive, catching him in midair by grabbing his wrists. She let loose a cry of pain as her jerked to a stop. It felt like her arms were being torn from their sockets!

“Dammit,” she hissed.  Iida was heavy, muscular and compact.  She could just about manage to carry her own bodyweight when flying, but he was definitely heavier than she was.  She dropped down low and released him, letting him hit the ground.  He’d gotten more than enough powder that he didn’t wake up.

Shoji, meanwhile, was still standing. She’d had to stop spreading her powder to keep Tensei from dropping and he hadn’t gotten nearly as big a dose.  His arms lashed out again, grabbing her wrists!

It had been a gamble that she’d be able to drop Shoji, especially as big as he was and as little powder as she’d been able to release.  She was glad Shida had her back. As soon as she’d seen Koharu drop down to save Iida, the spider-girl had already been making her way down the tree when Shoji extended his arms to grab Koharu.

She watched as Shida did her best to land from an angle that she hoped was in Shoji’s blind spot. Her legs made surprisingly little noise when they were in motion, and she sped toward the big, six-armed boy. When close enough she extended her two front legs and brought them in a scything motion toward the back of Shoji’s knees. 

Shoji was a big guy, which made him a pretty big target.  The blow from Shida knocked him down, bringing him to his knees and making him release Koharu.  Looking over his shoulder, he tried to swat at Shida with his Extendo-Arms, but the move was awkward and uncoordinated.  Koharu used the moment to escape, taking to the air again. She swung out with her legs, striking Shoji upside the head.  The blow wasn’t enough to put him down, but it did spin his head around.  He looked back and forth rapidly, now caught between her and Shida.

Shida dodged Shoji’s clumsy blows easily, her eyes and leg hairs giving her incredibly reaction time to his attack. She used her four back legs as a brace as she used them to hold herself in an almost standing position. She launched her remaining arms at Shoji, each attempting to strike at the arm joints of his extended arms. 

When it came to extra-appendages, Shoji was definitely unarmed by comparison to Shida.  Even as he’d been able to turn to face her, her spider-legs struck home, nailing him in each of his Extendo-Arms.  The silver-haired boy let out a cry of pain as his arms retracted, snapping back with a strange, stretching sound that was more than a little nauseating.  

He’d done a remarkable job of staying upright, but between the pain from Shida’s attack, the blow to the head, and the whiff of sleep powder he’d gotten earlier finally making its way through his system, Shoji went down, slowly sliding to his knees and then to the ground.

They’d done it!  Three hero students, and they’d managed to beat all of them!  She’d even managed to take out two!  Of course, Shida was also a Hero student, so that evened the playing field a little, but still!

“Let’s get the dummy,” Koharu said.  It should still be where they left it, next to Sora Iida.  She quickly glanced in that direction.  The other girl was asleep.  She must have gotten enough Sleep Powder too. Koharu stopped, her antennae moving rapidly.  There was something stirring up a lot of air. 

Anything Shida might have said was cut off as something swooped down and slammed into her.  Rough, clawed feet grabbed her shoulders and she felt herself being carried into the air.  It had to be Hizashi Koumori, the bat-like member of Class 1-B.

“Sorry, Kocho,” he said.  “Totally most heinous to do the sneak attack, I know, but we gotta win this one!”

Just before Koumori had grabbed her, Koharu had seen Shida briefly give herself a smile of triumph. That had abruptly ended when Koumori struck. Koharu could see Shida move on instinct to try and help, but she stopped, as though remembering what Koharu had told her. They needed to get the dummy. Shida cursed quietly before heading over to Sora to grab it. With any luck she’d be able to secure it and get back quick enough to help.

But Koharu couldn’t count on that.  She needed to do whatever she could to try and free herself.

It was the element of surprise that had let Koumori grab her.  He was bigger and stronger than her, to be sure, but all he had was his feet around her shoulders. Her wings were still free. And he wasn’t rocket-powered like the Iidas.  He was as dependent on muscle power and flapping for flight as she was, which meant his flight was a lot easier to disrupt.  She flared her own wings out, spreading them wide.  It attacked like an immediate drag chute, jerking Koumori back.

“Whoa!” he cried out.  Reflexively, he released his grip on her as he sailed back.  That was all she needed.  For just a moment Koharu let gravity grab hold, then flapped her own wings, diving back toward the ground.

Just as suddenly, however, she was hit by what felt like a solid wall of force that set her bones rattling and seemed to echo through her skull.  Flailing, she started falling again.  It was hard to think clearly, everything was spinning…

Clawed feet grabbed her again, this time grabbing her legs.  “Sorry about the sonar, dudette,” Koumori said.  He did sound genuinely apologetic.  She knew he was pretty mellow guy most of the time, though how mellow tended to change with how awake he was.  “I’ll have you down in a second.”

No!  She had to prove herself!  She couldn’t lose now!  “No,” she said, “I’m sorry… for this!” With his grip on her legs, she flapped her wings just once, giving herself just enough ot a push to swing upward, slamming both of her fists into his snout!  Koumori let out a cry of pain and released her again.  This time, she flapped and kept herself into the air, but hit him with a blast of String-Shot, pinning his arms--and more importantly, his wings--to his sides.  A pang of regret shot through her as he dropped like a stone.  Koumori was even bigger and heavier then Iida. There was no way she could keep him from falling…

Koumori, at least, was awake. He twisted in the air, trying to break free from her String-Shot, but hit the ground hard, letting out a soft moan, his eyes fluttering.  That looked like it had hurt.  Maybe she’d make it up to him back at U.A. with a fruit smoothie from her stash of exotic fruits.

Koharu landed next to him, bending down to make sure he was okay.  Kuomori was still breathing and it didn’t look like he had any major injuries.  Didn’t look like that had felt good, but it looked like he’d be fine.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to hurt someone.  She’d sparred with friends and fought in the Sports Festival and trained against others here at the camp.

It didn’t mean it felt good.   Maybe Park had been onto something about children fighting like this…

Shida skittered to a stop next to her, the dummy safely in her hands. “That was amazing, Koharu! I came as quickly as I could, but it turns out you didn’t need it.” Skida smiled, but frowned slightly; she must have noticed the disturbed look on Koharu’s face. She frowned, all her eyes narrowing in concern. “Are you okay?” She didn’t specify if what troubled her was physical or mental, but there was something in her voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone react like this. 

Koharu shook her head.   She had plenty of options that didn’t involve hurting people when it came to takedowns.  Maybe she could learn to focus on that.  But she’d have to fight anyway if she followed her dream and became a Hero.  But what did that mean for now?

Maybe those were questions for another day.

“Just thinking about something your friend said,” she told Shida.  “But c’mon.  We can talk about that later.  Let’s get this thing to the next marker.”

These were definitely questions that needed answers.  But for now, she’d faced one of the first major challenges of her Hero training and she’d come out on top.

For now, that was good enough.