#semi slowburn

[mythicalmaven]

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (ONE)

Let's go for a new series! <3 I always love writing friends/enemies to lovers, so that's what this is, yet again lol😂❤️ For my inspiration I got to give lots of credit to @vroomvro0mferrari, because her series Vexing Vacation gave me lots of inspo for the shared vacation thingie!

masterlist | promptlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 6,3K ↳warnings: not much yet honestly, arguing, tension maybe ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, semi slow burn? (not really slowburn, but it has build up until the actual lovers things unfold), the reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years, 22 and 27) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

Arthur’s apartment was as chaotic as ever, half-packed bags and discarded jackets strewn across the floor. You threw yourself onto the couch with a dramatic groan, your face buried in a pillow.

“I regret this already,” you whined, the words muffled against the soft fabric.

Arthur’s laugh carried from the doorway. “You’ve been here two minutes, and you’re already complaining? Impressive.”

Rolling onto your back, you shot him a glare. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. A whole month of dealing with your insufferable brother? I must’ve been out of my mind.”

Arthur leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You’ll survive. There are enough people going to keep you distracted. Plus, you get to spend a whole month with me. What more could you possibly want?”

“Maybe a holiday without Charles,” you shot back, only half-joking.

Arthur smirked. “Come on, he’s not that bad. Okay, maybe he’s a bit… a lot.”

"Arthur... I can't think of one thing that's not annoying about your brother" You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to dig his own grave further.

The Monegasque chuckled and rolled his eyes "Nuh uh! I do remember very vividly how you were gushing about, and I quote 'astonishingly hot' my brother looked in that suit during christmas"

You huffed and coughed, throwing the pillow that was under your head towards Arthur "First of all that was 2 years ago" you said, rolling onto your back, staring up at the ceiling “Besides, the only thing worse than Charles, is Charles knowing he’s handsome. He’s insufferable, and he’s fully aware of it. That smirk of his? Pure evil.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, he definitely knows. But let’s be honest, you’re not wrong. The guy could probably charm his way out of murder if he tried.”

You groaned again, flopping back onto the couch. “Can't I just stay here, and watch the house? Doesn't your fake plant need a plant sitter, to fake water it?" you joked.

Arthur plopped down beside you, his grin softening slightly. “You’ll be fine. I’ll protect you. I’ll even create a no-Charles zone if it helps.”

You laughed despite yourself, shoving his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re lucky to have,” he replied with a wink.

You smiled at him, rolling your eyes once again. He was true, you were lucky to have him, but you also weren't so lucky with who his brother was.

“But you have to admit,” Arthur continued, “you kind of love how much he gets under your skin. You wouldn’t have this much energy to complain if you didn’t care.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, and for a moment, your mind wandered back to where it all started. You and Arthur had been inseparable since you were kids.

The first time you met Arthur, you were eight years old, tagging along with Pierre to one of his karting races. Arthur, ten at the time, had been sitting on a crate, furiously tinkering with his kart while Charles shouted something from across the paddock. He looked up as you approached, his face smeared with grease, and grinned like he’d known you forever.

“Hi! I’m Arthur!” he announced, shoving his hand out for you to shake.

From that moment on, you were glued to his side. Arthur became your partner in crime, the one you told all your secrets to, and the brother you never asked for but somehow desperately needed.

Of course, being best friends with Arthur meant spending time around Charles, too.

You were fifteen when it happened—when you realized you had a crush on the unattainable Charles Leclerc. He was nineteen then, fully immersed in his F1 career and everything that came with it. He had this effortless charm, a confidence that made it impossible to look away.

You knew it was silly, that he’d never see you as anything more than Arthur’s kid best friend. But the crush lingered, stubborn and unrelenting.

By the time you were sixteen, you and Charles had started spending more time together, moments where the age gap didn’t feel so insurmountable. He’d joke with you, tease you about your karting attempts, and you couldn’t help but think… maybe. Maybe if you were older, it could be something.

“Maybe if you were older,” he’d said once, his voice light but his words heavy. “But you’re Pierre’s little sister, and Arthur would kill me. Besides, you’re like family.”

The words stung, but deep down, you understood. And then there was that night when you were eighteen—too many drinks, a shared laugh, and the moment you almost kissed. But it was over before it began, cut short by the sound of someone calling Charles’ name.

You never talked about it, burying the memory alongside the growing ache in your chest.

When you were eighteen, you finally let it go. You and Charles were just friends, so it seemed. You started dating other guys, convinced that the feelings you had for Charles were a thing of the past, which they seemed to be. But that was when Charles started to change.

He became distant, colder. His teasing shifted into something sharper, tinged with something you couldn’t quite understand. You started arguing more, getting annoyed by the weirdest little things. The playful insults and your arguments became the foundation of your relationship—barbed words masking unresolved tension.

Now, years later, it was all just… frustrating. You didn’t understand him, and you didn’t want to. Yet you both couldn't seem to let it each other be. Even though you were now respectively 21 and 26, you both had this childish need to keep pushing each others buttons.

The sound of the doorbell snapped you out of your thoughts. Arthur jumped up, grinning. “Showtime. Come on, let’s get this circus started.”

You followed him to the door, your heart sinking as soon as it swung open. There he was—Charles Leclerc, the devil himself, smirk firmly in place. Beside him stood Pierre and Kika, both smiling warmly.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. “Let the torture begin.”

Pierre and Kika made their way in, following Arthur to the living room, leaving you standing there alone with Charles.

Charles’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk widening. “Miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes at the Monegasque driver, scoffing "I’d miss you more if you came with a mute button."

Before Charles had the chance to reply to your comment, Dennis Hauger appeared behind Charles, greeting both of you with a smirk. Saved by the bell

"HAUG!" you exclaimed happily, making your way over to him, embracing him.

Dennis returned the hug immediately, settling his arms around your waist "Hi there, frenchie" he chuckled back at you, using of his standard nickname for you.

You tucked your head in the crook of his neck "You just saved me from the devil, thanks" you whispered jokingly to him, low enough for Charles to not hear.

What you didn't notice tho, was the way Charles clenched his jaw at the sight in front of him, or the way he immediately made his way out of the hallway, trying to get away from the interaction in front of him. It was jealousy, pure jealousy. Something he was trying to deny with all his willpower.

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The house had been buzzing with activity for the past hour as everyone settled into their rooms. Most of the group had scrambled to claim their ideal space as soon as they walked in, leaving you and Kika to handle the grocery run. You didn’t mind—there wasn’t a room you particularly wanted, and you figured Arthur would sort it out for you while you were gone.

When you returned and put everything away, you made your way to the living room, where Arthur was lounging on the couch next to Dennis. You perched on the armrest beside him, your hands on your hips.

Arthur didn’t even look at you before sighing dramatically. “I’m sorry in advance,” he muttered, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

You raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t even said anything yet, and you’re already apologizing. That’s reassuring.”

Arthur finally glanced up, a smirk creeping onto his face. “You weren’t going to ask me about your room for the month?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the teasing tone in his voice. “Okay, and if I was? I already told you I don’t care which room I get. I’m not picky.”

Dennis snorted from his seat. “Oh, you’ll care soon enough.”

Confused, you glanced between them, their smirks only growing. “What are you two on about? Just tell me where the room is, and I’ll figure it out myself.”

Arthur shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Upstairs. There are two bedrooms on that floor. Yours is the one on the right.”

“Thanks,” you said, pushing off the armrest. “Honestly, boys, it can’t be that bad.”

As you walked away, you heard Arthur mutter behind you, “Sweet, innocent girl.”

The comment made you roll your eyes, but you brushed it off. Surely they were just being dramatic. When you reached the room, you stepped inside and surveyed the space. It was far from bad—it was actually quite nice. The room was spacious, with large windows that let in plenty of light. You noticed a set of balcony doors and walked over to them, opening them to find a stunning view of the beach. The balcony extended to the next room, but that wasn’t anything that bothered you.

Everything about the room seemed perfect. What were they even talking about?

Feeling satisfied, you turned your attention to the rest of the space, spotting a door near the wardrobe. It must lead to the bathroom. Curious, you opened it, stepping inside—and froze in your tracks.

There, in the middle of the bathroom, stood Charles, unpacking his toiletries into the cabinet. His back was to you, but the sight of him was enough to make your stomach drop. You quickly scanned the room and spotted another door on the opposite wall, clearly leading to his bedroom.

Oh. That’s what they meant.

“No way. This is not happening,” you huffed, throwing your hands in the air.

Charles turned at the sound of your voice, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation. “What are you doing here?” he snapped.

"About to murder either you, or the idiot that came up with the clever idea to put me in a room next to most insufferable person on mother earth" you snapped back at him.

Charles felt slightly hurt at your insult, he knew he caused this himself, but he figured that trying to get over you was easier when you hated him than when you were your way too sweet self.

Charles rolled his eyes, going back to his unpacking. "Might as well consider killing Joris then, because up until you came barging in, I thought he would be staying in that room" he said, rolling his eyes, mindlessly continuing to unpack his stuff

You crossed your arms, glaring at his nonchalant attitude. “Well, congratulations on your little upgrade. This arrangement is absolutely not happening. I’m switching rooms.”

“Good luck with that,” Charles muttered. “But if you’re planning to kill Joris, I’d like to watch.”

You ignored his sarcasm, muttering curses under your breath as you stormed out of the bathroom and downstairs into the kitchen. Your frustration was boiling over as you barged in, startling the group gathered around the table. Pierre, Kika, Arthur, Dennis, and Joris all looked up at you in varying states of confusion.

“Joris,” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “I will kill you.”

Joris blinked, holding his hands up in defense. “What did I do?”

“Apparently you figured it was a good idea to take the last decent room, and left me with the one upstairs,” you hissed. “Which, by the way, shares a bathroom with Charles.”

Arthur burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. “You just figured that out? Oh, this is gold.”

Joris’ confused expression turned sheepish. “Okay, wait. I didn’t know that if I didn’t take the upstairs room, you’d end up with it. I thought the downstairs one was just the last one left.”

“And you didn’t think about who would be upstairs with Charles?” you snapped, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Joris shrugged, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “I mean... I thought you’d appreciate the proximity to him.”

You groaned, turning to Pierre, who was clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “Pierre, switch rooms with me. Please.”

Pierre leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening. Kika and I have a nice setup downstairs, and I’m not about to share a bathroom with anyone. We need our privacy.”

“I need privacy too!” you argued, your voice rising in frustration.

“It’s different,” Pierre said, shooting you a pointed look. “Couples need privacy for... other things.”

“Ew. Stop. I don’t want to know,” you groaned, covering your ears dramatically.

You spun around to Arthur, narrowing your eyes. “You. Switch with me.”

Arthur raised his hands, laughing. “No can do. Charles would murder me. I snore too loud, and he’s all about his beauty sleep. He’d kick me out within a day.”

Your gaze shifted to Dennis, who immediately held up his hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’ve got the best room in the house—big bed, balcony, bubble bath. I’m not giving that up.”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. “You’re all useless.”

He leaned back smugly, grinning as if he’d just won the lottery. Then, as if to soften the blow, he added, “Well, I would’ve offered to let you stay in my room with me, but I think that would be the cause of my death.” His eyes flicked pointedly to your brother.

“Fair point,” Pierre said flatly, without missing a beat.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “No, that’s off-limits. But sharing a bathroom—with connecting doors—with the one guy you’ve always said was ‘off-limits’ is somehow not an issue? You’re a hypocritical ass.”

Pierre shrugged, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “First of all, sleeping in someone’s bed is completely different than sharing a bathroom,” he countered, folding his arms.

“And second,” he added with a knowing look, “the only reason I ever said that was because you had a little teenage crush on my best friend. And let’s be honest, at the time, he was way too old for you. But...” He trailed off, chuckling to himself. “I guess sticking to that would make me a bit of a hypocrite, considering I’m dating one of your friends now, and our age gap is even bigger.”

You groaned loudly, knowing you couldn’t win this side of the argument. “Whatever,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “That doesn’t change the fact that you know he’s the one person I want to avoid the most. You know I hate him,” you complained. “I can’t even stand the idea of his existence, let alone sharing a goddamn bathroom with him.”

“Relax,” Pierre said with a smirk. “It’s just a bathroom. There’s a lock on the door. You’ll survive.”

“Exactly,” came Charles’ voice from behind you. You spun around to find him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug look on his face. “It’s not like sharing a bathroom means we’re obligated to shower together.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” you snapped. “It might be worth it just to drown you.”

The group erupted in laughter, and Charles rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like a child. Just knock before you go in. Problem solved.”

You glared at him, furious “Why are you even meddling, you weren't even part of this conversation, are you just lurking around waiting to butt in on conversations?” you snapped.

Charles smirked, clearly enjoying your frustration. “Not my fault you’re loud enough to hear from every other room,” he replied, his tone light but with an edge of sarcasm.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you shot him a glare. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he quipped, unfazed by your fury.

You sighed loudly "See, this is what I mean, this is what y'all are burdening me with" you complained, glaring at him once more, your frustration bubbling over. “You’re the last person I’d ever want to share a bathroom with.”

Charles smirked, stepping further into the kitchen, inching closer to you, until he was close enough to whisper in your ear. “Good thing it’s not up to you, then.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you shot him a glare, your voice sharp and dripping with annoyance. “Fuck you, Charles.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider as he tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Tempting,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “but I don’t think you could handle it.”

Pierre clapped his hands together, interrupting the argument. “Alright, enough. Give it a try for a few days. If it’s really that bad, we’ll figure something out. But I doubt it’ll be the end of the world.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Fine. But if I end up committing a murder, just know it’s on all of you.”

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After the heated argument downstairs, you stormed up the stairs to your designated bedroom, Arthur trailing behind you with his ever-present smug smirk. His long strides brought him into the room before you could even process your frustration fully. He flopped unceremoniously onto your bed, bouncing slightly as he sprawled out, his arms behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Meanwhile, you busied yourself with unpacking your suitcase, each item you placed in the wardrobe an outlet for your simmering annoyance. The rhythmic sound of hangers sliding against the bar was oddly soothing—until you caught Arthur watching you with that infuriating grin plastered across his face.

"What?" you snapped, not even turning to face him.

Arthur’s eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, nothing. Just waiting for you to protest again"

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. Before you could even begin to voice your frustration, Arthur sat up, one hand raised in mock surrender. "Nope! Let me stop you right there. This wasn’t just on me.”

Without thinking, you grabbed a pair of joggers from your suitcase and lobbed them at him. The fabric smacked him square in the face with a satisfying thwack.

“Merde!” he exclaimed, his laughter spilling out as he dramatically tossed the joggers aside. “Violence is not the answer, you know.”

“Neither is being useless,” you shot back, crossing your arms. "Arthur, you could have at least tried something! Anything would have been better than this.”

He leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms as if settling in for a long discussion. “Trust me, I did. But there wasn’t much to work with. Your brother doesn’t want to switch because—well, come on, you know why. He’s here with his girlfriend, and honestly, he made a fair point.”

You made a disgusted face, wrinkling your nose. “Fair point or not, it still sucks for me.”

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. “And then there’s Joris. He’s obviously got a thing for Gigi, and guess what? Gigi sleeps downstairs. Perfect excuse for him to ‘accidentally’ run into her more often.”

“Gross,” you muttered, shoving another shirt into the wardrobe.

Arthur grinned, clearly enjoying your irritation. “And let’s be real: Inès and Gigi met Charles today. Can you imagine how awkward it’d be for either of them to share a bathroom with him? What if they walk in each other accidentally. That’s like… social torture. At least you’ve known him for years.”

You spun around, throwing your hands in the air. “I’M UNCOMFORTABLE TOO, ARTHUR!”

“Yeah, but that’s just you two being… you two,” he quipped, gesturing vaguely between you. “It’s a highly unlogical—”

“Illogical,” you corrected sharply.

“Whatever.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an illogical issue between the two of you. At least you know him well enough to, I don’t know, coexist?”

You exhaled sharply, knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong but unwilling to admit it. “Fine. But Dennis? He’s my friend! He could have helped me out instead of hogging the nicest room in the house.”

Arthur snorted. “You know Dennis and Paul! I’m pretty sure they're just quietly rooting for some ‘enemies to lovers’ drama between you and Charles. Probably think it’s entertaining"

You stared at him in disbelief, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh my God. Why do you all think this is some slow-burn romance novel? I’m not in love with him anymore. That was just a stupid teenage crush!”

Arthur grinned wider, clearly delighted. “Sure, sure. But that doesn’t mean you two don’t have… something.”

“Ugh!” You grabbed a pillow and launched it at him, but he easily dodged, laughing as he slid off the bed to avoid further projectiles.

“Relax, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” he teased, leaning casually against the wall. “And for the record, I would have swapped with you. But Charles would kill me. You know how I snore, and—let’s be real—we’ve already lived together long enough. He’d probably prefer sharing a bathroom with you than enduring that again.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I just don’t get it. He hates me just as much as I hate him. Why would he rather share with me than you?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his knowing smirk returning. “Oh, I have my theories. But I’m staying out of it.”

“That’s not helpful,” you muttered, exasperated.

Arthur chuckled, pushing off the wall. “Look, you could always sleep on the couch. But if you do…” He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You’re letting him win.”

“Fair point,” you admitted begrudgingly.

Arthur patted your shoulder as he walked toward the door. “Good luck surviving the week. Don’t kill each other—well, at least not where anyone can see.”

Once he was gone, the silence of the room felt heavy. You sighed, glancing toward the adjoining bathroom door—the one that connected your room to Charles’.

As if on cue, the faint sound of running water reached your ears. You groaned inwardly, already dreading the inevitable awkward encounters. Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe this was all just some cosmic joke meant to test your patience.

But as you sank onto the edge of the bed, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something else—something unsettling that you didn’t want to name. Whatever it was, you shoved it aside, determined to prove that you could handle this without giving anyone the satisfaction of watching you squirm.

For now, you focused on unpacking the rest of your things, trying to ignore the quiet tension creeping in through the bathroom door.

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Later that day, the dinner table was alive with chatter, forks scraping plates, and glasses clinking as the group settled into an easy rhythm of conversation. The garden outside glowed under the string lights Pierre had painstakingly strung earlier, their warm light casting a soft glow over everyone seated at the table. Plates were piled high with food, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the gentle hum of evening crickets.

You sat between Dennis and Arthur, trying your best to ignore the magnetic pull of Charles, seated directly across from you. He was deep in conversation with Joris about the best overtaking strategies, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You told yourself you weren’t paying attention, but your eyes betrayed you, flickering to him more often than you’d like.

Arthur leaned over, breaking your reverie. “You’ve barely touched your plate,” he teased, nodding toward your half-eaten dinner.

“Maybe I lost my appetite after sitting across from that,” you said pointedly, your fork gesturing vaguely in Charles’ direction.

Charles, sharp as ever, caught the jab immediately. His green eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned back in his chair, resting an arm lazily on the table. “Careful,” he drawled. “That attitude of yours might scare away any remaining appetite you have.”

Dennis snickered quietly beside you, earning a glare from you and a soft punch to his shoulder. “Don’t encourage him,” you muttered.

“Who, me?” Dennis asked innocently.

The banter escalated as the evening wore on. Drinks began to flow more freely—wine for most, a few beers for the others—and snacks were passed around as the group moved to the garden chairs scattered across the lawn. The stars above provided the perfect backdrop, but you were too caught up in the ebb and flow of conversation to appreciate them fully.

You and Charles kept up your usual sniping, each comment sharper than the last. It wasn’t long before Pierre, clearly exasperated, threw up his hands. “Enough, you two. I swear, if you keep this up, we’ll have to start taking bets on which one of you snaps first.”

“I’m not snapping,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Charles smirked, taking a leisurely sip of his drink. “Neither am I. I’m having the time of my life.”

The group burst into laughter, easing the tension momentarily. But across the garden, Dennis leaned toward Arthur, his voice dropping low enough to stay out of earshot.

“Am I the only one seeing it?” Dennis asked, his gaze darting between you and Charles.

Arthur followed his line of sight, frowning slightly. “Seeing what?”

“Come on, Thur,” Dennis said, nudging him. “The tension. The way they bicker? That’s not just hate. That’s something else.”

Arthur hesitated, his brows furrowing. “I don’t know. With her? I can’t tell. She used to have a thing for him, sure. But now? One moment I think she’s over it, and the next…”

Dennis grinned knowingly. “She’s not over it. And Charles? He’s head over heels. Look at the way he watches her when she’s not looking. The guy’s smitten.”

Arthur laughed at him "I've had my suspicions about him for a while, but he's difficult to read"

“Just saying, the sexual tension is insane.” Dennis laughed.

Arthur groaned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re talking about my brother. Ew.”

"Hey, in all honesty. If he indeeds feels that way about her, I don't judge him.." Dennis laughed at the disgusted face that Arthur was pulling "Because, come on, you gotta admit it, she's hot"

Arthur shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Yeah, she’s hot. I'm aware of that, but I don’t see her that way. Never did, to be honest. We kissed a couple of times, but it was never like that" he said, a laugh present on his face as he thought back to the memories "I guess like once or twice during drinking games, and I remember one time when we were just young and hopeless, so we tried kissing like once, but it honestly was like… kissing my sister. Just weird.”

Dennis nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I know that, Thur. But your brother? He doesn’t seem to think it’s weird.”

Dennis was watching you and Charles with barely concealed amusement, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching a slow-motion car crash. He leaned a little closer to Arthur, smirking. "I mean, come on," he said under his breath. "Do they think they’re fooling anyone?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "They’ve been like this for ages. It’s exhausting just being around it."

Gigi, sitting nearby and clearly picking up on their hushed tones, laughed softly and joined in. “It’s mildly funny, though. They’re trying so hard to keep up this weird act of hating each other. Like, come on—it’s obvious they don’t actually hate each other.”

Dennis grinned, nodding toward Charles. “Right? The guy looks like he’s about to break his neck just to glance at her without being obvious.”

Gigi shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “What I don’t get is what caused all this. They used to be great friends. Back when she was still in love with him” she explained “they were actually kind of inseparable. So, what changed?”

Dennis tilted his head, considering her words. “Do you think she's still in love with him?”

Gigi paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “Honestly? I don’t think so. I mean, she still thinks he’s hot—because, let’s face it, he is hot—but she doesn’t act the way she used to. Back then, she was constantly hopeful. And let's face it, he was her first ever proper crush, so he might have a special place, but I don't think she's still in love with him. Now it's just different"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“She just seems... done. Like she gave up on him a while ago.” Gigi shrugged again, her tone thoughtful. “And honestly, I don’t blame her. If Charles does feel something now, he's probably too late. She’s waited long enough. Sure, when she was younger, the age gap made sense. She was too young. But by the time she was, like, 20, she was old enough. She still had feelings for him then, and he never even did anything about it.”

Dennis tapped his chin dramatically. “That’s rough. And if he does admit something now, what do you think? Should she go for it?”

Gigi frowned, her gaze shifting toward you briefly. “I don’t know. It would feel... weird. Like, if he didn’t see her that way before, why now? It might just feel like he’s choosing her because it’s convenient.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can we not psychoanalyze my brother’s love life, please?”

Gigi shifted her gaze to Dennis, a sly grin spreading across her face. “What about you? You and her seem close. Maybe something’s blossoming there?”

Dennis raised an eyebrow, a surprised chuckle escaping him. “Me and her? Nah, come on.”

Gigi tilted her head, still smirking. “What? I’m just saying, you two seem to have this... vibe.”

Dennis laughed, shaking his head. “Look, she’s hot. I’d hook up with her in a heartbeat if she wanted to, but something serious? Nah. We both know it’s not like that.”

Gigi rolled her eyes, clearly amused. “You’re an idiot.” she laughed.

Arthur leaned back, groaning dramatically. “Why are we even having this conversation? Can we not dissect every potential romantic possibility?”

Gigi laughed. “Oh, come on, Arthur. Admit it. It’s entertaining.”

Arthur shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You all need help.”

Both Gigi and Dennis laughed out loud at Arthur's comment, finding it funny how Arthur reacted.

Before anyone could say more, their conversation was cut short when Charles, who had clearly overheard snippets of their hushed tones, called out from across the garden. “What’s so funny over there?”

Arthur, Dennis, and Gigi exchanged a quick look before Arthur spoke, his tone far too casual. “Oh, nothing much. Just debating which one of us would survive the longest if we had to endure one of your lectures on strategy.”

Charles narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Sure,” he muttered, turning back to his conversation with Joris. But the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement, even as he pretended not to care.

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As the night wore on, the group began to disperse, some heading to bed while others lingered to enjoy the cool night air. You made your way up to your room, feeling restless. Grabbing the cigarette Inès had reluctantly given you earlier, you stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze brushing against your skin.

The first drag burned your throat, a harsh reminder of why you’d quit. But tonight, the weight in your chest felt heavier than usual, and this seemed like the only way to breathe again.

The quiet was short-lived. The soft creak of the balcony door opening made you stiffen, and when you turned, you found Charles stepping out.

“If you’re planning to mock me for smoking, shut up,” you said, not even trying to hide your annoyance.

Charles raised his hands defensively. “I wasn’t planning on anything.”

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the view rather than you. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the tension ebbing into something softer.

“Are you going to keep standing there, or are you taking a seat?” you asked, nudging a chair toward him with your foot.

He sat without a word, the quiet between you stretching but not uncomfortable.

“I thought you quit,” he said finally, his voice soft.

You took another drag, exhaling slowly. “I did.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Figures.”

“But then my best friend decided it was a good idea to take me on a holiday and make me share a bathroom and connecting rooms with his brother" You smirked faintly "Don’t know if you’ve met him, but he’s got a massive ego and loves getting on his brother’s best friend’s nerves. Pathetic, really.”

Charles laughed, the sound low and warm. “Can’t say I’ve met him. But he probably has a good reason.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, a rare moment of peace between the insults. You held out your cigarette to him, a small gesture of truce.

Charles hesitated before taking it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. The touch was fleeting but electric, sending a jolt through him that he didn’t entirely wanted to administer. He took a drag, exhaling slowly, his eyes on the stars.

“For someone who claims to hate me this much, this seems pretty generous,” he said, handing it back.

“Maybe I’m trying to ruin your lungs so you screw up your next race,” you replied dryly, leaning back in your chair.

Charles hummed in mock agreement. “Hmm. If you say so.”

The silence lingered between you and Charles, stretching into something neither of you was used to—quiet, companionable, and strangely comfortable. You stared out at the darkened garden, the faint glow of the string lights from below casting soft shadows across the balcony. The cigarette burned low between your fingers, the occasional ember flaring as you took a slow drag.

Charles shifted slightly in his seat, his arms resting casually on the chair's arms, his eyes flicking to you when he thought you weren’t looking. The lines of his face were softened by the night, his usual sharpness replaced by a contemplative calm.

“You’ve gotten quieter,” you muttered, breaking the silence. “What? Run out of things to argue about already?”

He smirked, glancing at you. “Just pacing myself. Don’t want to exhaust all my good comebacks in one night.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Oh, please. I’ve heard them all before. You’re not that original.”

“Maybe I’m just giving you a chance to catch up,” he quipped, a faint grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and for a moment, it almost felt easy—like the walls you’d both carefully built were thinning, letting something more natural seep through.

The two of you lapsed back into silence, the occasional sound of the night filling the void. Charles tapped his fingers lightly against the chair, his rhythm steady, almost soothing. He tilted his head back slightly, staring up at the stars.

“What do you think they’re talking about down there?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward the garden where the others were still chatting.

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Knowing Arthur and Dennis? Something dumb. Probably debating the best flavor of chips or some other nonsense.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Sounds about right.”

Minutes passed, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. Occasionally, your gazes met, and though neither of you spoke, there was an unspoken exchange—something in the way his eyes softened just slightly when he looked at you.

Finally, you stood, brushing ash from your hands. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom and go to bed.”

Charles didn’t respond immediately, his eyes following your movements. Just as you reached the doorway, he called out softly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“You know,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “aside from all the arguments… you know I don’t actually hate you, right?”

You froze in the doorway, his words hanging in the air between you. Slowly, you turned, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You have a shit way of showing that,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

Charles gave you a small, almost rueful smile. “I’ll work on it.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before nodding. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as you disappeared inside.

In the bathroom, the scent of him lingered—subtle but unmistakable. It was maddening how easily it unsettled you, making your chest tighten with an unspoken weight. You closed the door behind you, locking both his and your side with care, as if the physical barrier could somehow keep your thoughts at bay.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, the faint steam from the earlier shower still clinging to the edges of the glass. “Get over it,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. “You hate him. Remember?”

But the words felt hollow, even to your own ears.

The shower’s warm spray hit your skin, washing away the tension that had settled in your shoulders, but it couldn’t quite cleanse your mind. Images of his face lingered—his small, almost shy smile when he’d said he didn’t hate you, the way his fingers had brushed against yours earlier when you passed him the cigarette.

You lingered longer than usual, hoping the heat of the water would somehow dissolve the confusion swirling inside you. When you finally stepped out and dried off, you felt no closer to clarity, only exhaustion.

Back in your room, the muffled sounds of movement from the adjoining space made you pause. You could hear him faintly—the soft creak of his bed, the shuffle of fabric as he adjusted his position. It was strangely intimate, knowing he was so close, separated only by a thin wall.

Sliding into bed, you stared at the ceiling, the room’s quiet amplifying the sounds next door. Your mind drifted despite your best efforts, and with a sigh, you reached for your phone.

You: Bathroom’s free

You'd typed it quickly, hesitating for a moment before pressing send. Before you could even process your message, the reply already came.

Charles: Thanks.

You put your phone on your nightstand, plugging it in the charger, before crawling deeper beneath the covers. You tried to fall asleep, but it felt impossible. Every movement he made, every creak of his bed, echoed faintly. It made you realize once more, in what close proximity you both were, keeping you awake longer than you’d like. Eventually though, sleep claimed you, surprisingly peaceful despite everything.

next part

[lunar-years]

i'm obsessed with established relationship domestic rjk lately. in my head they're curled up together on the couch right now eating Roy's scones sipping cuppas Keeley prepared perfectly to each of their tastes arguing over Taskmaster. they're very cozy and warm. all is well.

[mae-dwrites]

Rue - Chapter 2

Story Materlist | Ao3 | Wattpad

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Marinette woke to the smell of eggs and toast and her girls chanting “eggies, eggies, eggies” and so on. She sat up rubbing her face, How was it morning already? At least she had gotten better at getting up, it wasn’t a fight with how tired she was anymore.

She let her feet set on the ground, she took a moment to stretch before getting up. The next thing she knew she was on the floor, she looked back at her feet. One of the blankets had wrapped around her right ankle, she huffed as she got back up. Just the luck, she thought as she unwrapped her ankle.

Sure she didn’t use the Ladybug earring’s powers anymore but she still wore them, so luck needed to balance out every once in a while. She had let Chat Noir keep the ring when she decided it would be easier as Guardian to continue wearing the earrings, but with the luck of the Ladybug, it would bring imbalance to the box and the outside world for long periods of time. Marinette didn’t want to wear the ring, the most powerful Miraculi on one person wouldn’t be wise. But now, that may have been a mistake.

If she’s right that is.

“There’s the bedbug,” the Créole woman teased her friend. Marinette smiled at her friend; they’ve had their rough patches but she stayed by her in the end. It taught them a lot, and it helped them grow individually. They came back stronger and closer.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Marinette sat at the counter. Nino slid her a plate with a sympathetic smile, “You still only like scrambled right?”

Marinette squeezed Nino’s hand with a chuckle, “Not much changes about me if you haven’t noticed.” Nino laughed along in agreement as he stole some of Alya’s toast.

“Hey, that’s mine! You already have some,” Alya waved the spatula at her husband trying to smack his hand with it. Nino had come away with both pieces of toast, “I am the Toast King, I must have all the toast!”

Hugo and Emma giggled, Nino ripped the toast to make himself fangs. He stuffed the “fangs” in his mouth and turned to the twins, mouth wide, “Give me your toast! RAHHHH!” Hugo kept giggling as she tried to eat. Emma used her arms to make an ‘X’ and held her head high, “No, you don’t get my toast, it’s mine. Take Hues!”

Before Hugo could save her toast, Emma took it and tossed it at Nino.

“Emma!” Hugo whined as her jelly-covered bread flew to Nino. The toast hit Nino’s shirt with an appropriate ‘splat’. Marinette stuck her face in her hands. Nino pealed the toast off his shirt and set it on his plate, “I’ll, just uh change my shirt now.”

Nino awkwardly excused himself, Alya sighed and put some more toast in the toaster.

Marinette looked up at Emma biting her cheek, “Emma what have we talked about?”

“Not to throw food,” Emma paused and then looked back up at her mom. “At people, don’t throw food at people.”

“And?” Marinette extended the word trying to make the scolding a little more lighthearted.

“And don’t take Hugo’s food,” Emma resided.

“And you still took my food,” Hugo stabbed her egg. The yolk poured out slowly while she glared at Emma. Emma blanched in disgust at the slimy goop sliding out, “Eewww.”

Ayla scraped some more scrambled eggs onto Emma’s plate before they had another accident. Marinette sent Alya a thankful smile, “So wha-”

Alya was cut off by Chloé bursting through her apartment door, “Is she up yet, or is she still lazying around.”

Alya rubbed the bridge of her nose while Marinette giggled lightly, “I’m up Chlo.”

“Good, now I am appointing myself as your lawyer. He isn’t getting a penny from you let alone the girls. I propose we get ahead start, Alya will testify for you, and possibly could get old classmates. I know you don’t want a war but I can’t promise we won’t have one-” Chloé was going to continue but Marinette wasn’t gonna hear.

“Chloé.” She frowned at her friend, she sighed after a moment. “I appreciate it but I don’t want to take him the court. That’s the last thing I want. Also, I don’t want them to hear.”

She nodded her head in Hugo and Emma’s direction. Chloé huffed but respected her decision.

“Sorry about Chloé,” Zoé was trying to catch her breath at the door. “You know how she gets. Holy”-gasping-”I forgot how fast she is when in heels.”

“Āyí Zoé,” Emma jumped out of her chair and ran to the door.

“Hey Ems, just give Auntie a moment to catch her breath.” Zoé shut the front door, making Alya happier, and sat down on the couch. “I still can’t believe how quick you are.”

“You really expect me to be anything but exceptional?” Chloé raised an eyebrow at her sister, and a subtle smirk to go with. Zoé rolled her eyes before turning back to the dark-haired girl, “Shouldn’t you finish eating?”

“But I want to talk to you Āyí,” Emma extended the ‘u’ and ‘ee’ sounds on the last words.

“How about I join you in a moment,” Zoé said. Emma frowned but went back to the chairs, climbing up onto hers. Marinette got up to help her daughter up the tall chair. Emma said a thank you before going back to eating. Marinette kissed the top of her daughter’s head before sitting back in the chair she had been occupying.

Alya asked the young women if they wanted anything to drink or eat. Zoé declined politely while Chloé accepted requesting a cold Sprite, a snobby attitude along with it. As much as Chloé had grown there were a few habits she hadn’t lost, or just ones slipped back into.

Nino came out and greeted the sisters, exchanging pleasureties, then Zoé followed him to join him and the dark-haired girls at the counter island. Zoé encouraged Emma to finish her food while also trying to put input into Nino and Marinette’s conversation. Alya after putting aside the cookware joined Chloé on the couch to talk.

“Hey B.” Alya had a semi-flop onto the cushion. Chloé turned away from her phone to face her friend, funny how they couldn’t stand each other when they had met but look at them now. Prepared to trust each other at the vaguest of messages. They weren’t best friends like Alya was with Marinette and they butted heads from hell and back but they had a silent connection of trust and support.

“What’s on your mind Césaire,” Chloé raised her eyebrow for what could have been the hundredth time that week.

“It just doesn’t make sense. No matter how many ways I spin it in my head. It’s so…so out of character for him, like that’s not who he is. You agree with me on this right?” Alya frowned to herself while looking at Chloé with pleading eyes. It just didn’t add up, this wasn’t Adrien. Even if he had changed, people do change-look at Chloé! She had grown and now she thrived, yeah she still had a bit of a tude but she wasn’t the same spoiled brat her parents had made her.

“I don’t disagree, but his father was Hawkmoth. That must have struck some sort of nerve, it must have affected him more than we thought.” Chloé took a drink of her beverage, and kept scrolling through her phone.

“That’s a possibility, but that was nine-ten years ago. And he loves Marinette, he loved her so much. Where…where did it stop?” She had turned to look at her best friend who was smiling at Hugo and Nino while resting a hand on Emma’s head. Zoé said something that made them all laugh, Alya couldn’t help but let a smile of her own form at seeing them all.

“I don’t think it stopped necessarily, you should know just as much as us just how good Lila is. You didn’t think twice about what she said, it was like you became a Zombiezouie. You tried to kiss people cause it felt like the right thing to do even though you didn’t want to. That’s what you said.” Chloé finally turned off her phone and turned to Alya narrowing her eyes at her. “Adrien may have admitted to knowing she was lying and not saying anything but that doesn’t mean she didn’t get better at what she does. And if your theory is right, then she can get stronger. She could get stronger to the point where Adrien is under her influence.”

Alya laid her head back, Chloé had a point. If Lila was a metahuman then that didn’t mean she couldn’t get stronger. It only became easier to resist when protective magic warded things like outside influences. Alya sighed and looked back up to Chloé, “But what makes her stronger is what I wanna know. She was already strong enough to fool almost an entire school and then some. What is she capable of now?”

“Doesn’t matter she will be ridiculous compared to us, like always,” Chloé smirked as she glanced over at her precious hive. They were going to get to the bottom of this, and then they would win just like they always did. When Chloé turned back to her friend she found her smiling at her, “Uck what are you staring at Césaire?”

Alya let out an airy laugh, “How do you do that? You’re almost better than Mar.”

“You need to specify Césaire.”

“Your mini inspirational speeches, yours are much shorter than hers. Yeah, longer than what you just said sure but you’re always so confident we’ll win or complete our task.” Alya motioned at her. Chloé rolled her eyes and stated again, “You expect me to be anything but exceptional Césaire?”

“I suppose not,” Alya shook her head as Hugo came running over to them. Hugo stood in front of them with her wide round eyes, “Āyímen?”

“Yes?” Both women said in unison, Hugo giggled to herself for a moment. “Can you help me with my story? Maman is trying to get Emma to finish eating, Emma doesn’t like to do it with me anyway.” Hugo twisted the bottom of her shirt so much that some of her tummy showed.

Chloé gave a “sure” while Alya gave an excited “yes, of course!” Alya loved Hugo’s early interest in reading and writing. Hugo loved it when they helped her, Alya letting her be as creative as she wanted to be and Chloé asking questions that made Hugo change parts that made more sense to her. Sure sometimes Chloé didn’t understand a single thing but her questions helped Hugo decide what made more sense for her young five-year-old brain.

“So what’s this story about?” Chloé asked as Alya got her computer out and handed Hugo paper.

Hugo turned to them with a bright smile and a glint in her eye, “An evil witch and queen sorceress! The witch uses her power to make things go her way, and she wants to be a queen too- wait now an emper-empor-ugh.”

“Empress?” Alya filled in as she made a document in her folder named “Blueberry Tales”. Chloé always saw it only as fitting.

Hugo sat up and flailed her right hand at Alya, “Yes!” she exclaimed and extended her ‘s’. “And so she makes the King, the sorceress’s husband, think things and so the Queen sorceress must go to a more dangerous land to find answers and, and help!”

Funny, Chloé thought to herself, “So what happens when she gets to this “dangerous land”?”

“She falls in love with who is to be the next King of that land!” Hugo jumped up and cried it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Is that so?” Alya laughed as she typed this because Hugo wasn’t even trying to write it right now.

“Yeah, and, and he falls in love too!”

“Okay but what about her husband?” Chloé asked, raising an eyebrow at the young girl.

“The evil witch ruined their love!” Hugo let a quiet “duh” at Chloé. Emma ran over to her, “Hue we’re going to zǔfùmǔ de fángzi! Come on!”

Hugo immediately abandoned her writers' table to run after her twin, “We’re really going to zǔfùmǔ' house?”

“Yes we’re going to even gonna eat some nummies,” Marinette said following them to the guest room.

Alya turned back to Chloé, “I forgot what those words mean.”

“They’re going to Tom and Sabine’s, remember zǔfùmǔ means grandparents.” Chloé gave Alya a “seriously” look.

“Girl I’m not a lawyer that speaks like a million different languages,” Alya said as she closed her computer. Nino came up and put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, “It’s alright babe, not everyone has the time to.”

Chloé rolled her eyes at them, “You two are disgusting, utterly disgusting.”

“But who’s the more disgusting couple, us or Zoé and Jo?” Nino asked sarcastically.

“We aren’t disgusting! We’re affectionate!” Zoé protested.

“Equally,” Chloé retorted loud enough for her sister to hear. Zoé ran over and flopped on her sister’s lap making the older blond screech, “Get off me!”

“Not unless you say Alya and Nino are more disgusting!” Emma came running out and jump on top of Zoé. Zoé groaned at the new weight on her. It could be heard from the other room, “Emma get back in here- Hugo! Where are your socks?”

Emma giggled and hugged the little lump on her chest, Nino laughed as Chloé threatened to shove Zoé off of her after Emma got off her. Alya gave Nino a light wack on arm before leaving his grasp. Alya picked Emma up by her ankles and the girl squealed, a thump could be heard after Alya walked away with the little girl.

“I might know where her socks went,” Emma giggled at Alya’s words. Marinette sighed as she retrieved the socks from her younger daughter’s shirt. She wiggled the young girl’s nose between her fingers and puffed out her cheeks at her, a loud joyous giggle escaped Emma.

“Mommy my socks,” Hugo frowned at not having her socks. Marinette came over, “I got them right here, don’t worry.”

“I wanna do it myself!” Hugo said, Marinette handed the socks to her. Emma ran over and grabbed her socks, “I wanna put them on myself too!” Marinette helped Emma back on the bed and sat between them in case either of them decided it was “too hard”.

This time it wasn’t, they both did it without giving up this time. It pulled at Marinette’s stomach and felt like a knife was being twisted in her chest simultaneously. She pulled them in and gave kisses on their heads as they protested and laughed, “Maman!”

“Okay, okay, I’m done. Now let's go to the bakery.” Marinette picked up their bag and brought the girls with her. Alya followed the dark-haired trio out of the room to the door of the apartment, “You want one of us to go with you?”

“No it’s fine, I’m just going to talk to my parents and see if they can keep them for a bit. It’s summer and school doesn't start again for another two months. They should still have fun regardless of what’s going on, also my parents adore them, it shouldn’t be too hard even if I told them the truth.” Marinette explained and Emma started bouncing while tugging at the young woman’s arm. “Maman,” she whined. “I wanna go to zǔfùmǔ de fángzi now!”

“We’re going in a moment Ems,” Marinette squeezed her daughter’s hand. Alya leaned against the door frame with concerned eyes and a small frown, “I think one of us should be with you.”

“Als when haven’t I been able to handle myself?” Marinette raised her eyebrows at her best friend in challenge. Alya raised her eyebrows in response to her. “Okay okay, but it’s fine!”

“If you say so Mars, but please don’t keep it all to yourself. The weight of the world isn’t simply yours to bear, and this counts,” Alya poked Marinette’s chest. “Let us in Marinette.”

Marinette opened her mouth to give a response but was interrupted by Hugo saying she needed to go potty and running off, “Emma you go potty too.” Emma huffed but went toward the restroom. Marinette turned back up to her friends looking at her, she smiled at them. “Don’t worry guys, I know when to ask for help. You know that don’t you?”

“Yes they do Marinette but they just worry, we have the right to,” Zoé said stepping forward. “We care about you Marinette, and we don’t want to see any of you get hurt because of this Lila situation.”

“It’s more than just a situation,” Chloé snarked at her.

“Well I don’t know everything that goes on, now do I Chloé?” Zoé turned to look down at her sister. Chloé simply waved her off in annoyance, “You don’t get to know every secret dear sister.”

Zoé frowned but Marinette smiled softly at them, she felt almost full of warmth. Almost full.

Emma and Hugo ran up to their mom with big smiles, Emma grabbed Marinette’s hand and started tugging. “Come on Maman, let’s go!”

“Let’s say goodbye first Emma,” Marinette said. “Bye! Now let’s go!” Emma tugged again, Marinette frowned and turned Emma around, “Say goodbye the proper way.”

“Thank you for having us, see you later Āyímen and Dàyé,” Emma said to them. “That’s better,” Marinette said and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Bye, see again,” Hugo waved at them with a small smile.

There was a chorus of goodbyes, I love yous, and promises to see each other again soon. Marinette left with the girls leaving the quartet in the living room area. All of them having similar masks of worry fall on each. Chloé looked down her empty can before ending the silence, “Alya where the hell is your garbage can? You have the most ridiculous arrangement in this apartment.”

--

I LIVE! Thank you for reading <3

[lesbians-all-the-way-down]

Working alone means I haven't stopped thinking about the Halifax explosion/ the nursing sisters/ ww1.

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-���

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.��� Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[screampied]

☆ HOW TO SPEND SPRING BREAK PROPERLY? (WITH HIS BESTFRIEND)

ᡴꪫ‎ summary. spring break's here, for the duration of your time off you visit your father. little did you know you’d also be spending time with his best friend toji—he ends up stealing your panties and maybe even your heart also. or does he? you’ve always did want a man.

warnings. fem! reader x toji fushiguro, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty & in uni — toji is in early 30s) incl: shiu kong, mutual pining, tiny slowburn, size difference, semi-public themes, humor, angst, dad is just oblivious.

note. hiii! wasn’t planning on continuin' this but this au has me intrigued ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this is just a short four fic series for fun that may & may not be read as standalones. header: lady k & the sick man

‪ ᡴꪫ‎ ┊SPRINGBREAK COUNTDOWN ᡴꪫ‎ ┊

⟣ THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER.

university sucks major ass. on the bright side, you’re on break—you decide to go pay your father a visit. this 'visit' ends up to you being introduced to his best friend, toji. who’s he? maybe your panties know the answer.

⟣ DARLIN’ CAN I BE YOUR FAVORITE?

if you knew you’d be sandwiched between two of your dad’s colleagues, you’d—actually let’s not finish that sentence. turns out you get walked in on by shiu kong, toji’s best friend who’s also your ex boyfriend. awkward…

⟣ ONE OF HIS GIRLS.

toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

⟣ THAT [GIRL] IS MINE.

university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

— What to expect ? ! : Celebrity au, genshin crossover, placed in the future (Vil is in his late 20's), Strangers to Coworkers to lovers, Semi-slowburn, One-sided hatred (Vil), Mutual pinning, Sprinkles of angst, Fluff, Comedy, Slice of life, hurt/comfort(?), Mentions/Usage of drugs . . ♡

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! " for all the haters turned lovers and those who love the rain <3 "

♡. profiles : our main leads . .

PROLOGUE !!

♡. A series of unfortunate events ♡. Keeping up with Y/n L/n

ACT I — Wine & Coffee . .

001 . Taco bell & Shitty Tuesdays 002. A day in the life of Vil Schoenheit 003. Wine tasting & Hangovers

— taglist ♡ ; @well-look-at-this , @honkai-freak , @kingnem10 , @immahuman , @katzline , @pebble-bb , @meigalaxy , @lordbugs , @crowbird , @yuus3n , @azriel-sama , @reivelmin , @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 , @eliza-be-t-h , @feverish-dove , @yejiswifex , @l0v3r666 , @cece-cherries , @frootloopscos , @abell2029cluster , @ephemii , @alienlatteinspace , @frangiipanii , @vamprel , @kittycat246 , @jar-03 , @leifsclubroom , @everettelz , (you'll be tagged in the comments due to tumblr mention issues)

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or for updates)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[tlou-reid]

Baked Goodies ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

♡ SUMMARY: aaron is smitten for his new graduate student neighbor as soon as he meets her.

♡ WARNINGS: male masturbation, allusions to smut but nothing fully written (part 2?), tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining & slowburn, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)

—♡

Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever blushed before now. The warmth on his cheeks was an unfamiliar feeling, as was the smile that was slowly making its way across his face. “Thank you,” He says with a voice that’s slightly lower than his usual tone. His hand reached out to grab the Tupperware container you were holding in yours. He tried to ignore the gentle shock that reached his fingertips as they made contact with yours. He also tried to ignore how soft the skin of your manicured hand was. It was probably a lotion, one with the same lavender scent radiating off your body.

“No need to thank me!” Your voice was so lively, so excitable. It was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. “If you ever need any more baked goods, I’m right across the street.” As you spoke, you lifted your arm to point at the house across the street from his.

You were his new neighbor. The house had been on sale for a few weeks and Aaron had been keeping his eye on it, seeing who the new family would be. He was hoping it would be a family that had a child similar to Jack’s age. He didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood, they all lived a few blocks over. Having someone Jack could bond with right across the street would make things easier for both him and his son. Especially when Aaron had to leave for days or weeks at a time due to his job.

But, selfishly, he was not disappointed it was you at all. You hadn’t disclosed if it was just you living in the house or not, but Aaron had already formed an imaginary life for you. It was just you and some pet living in the house, and he was going to be the protector. He’d check on you, you’d come to him when you need some manly job done at the house. And he hadn’t known you for more than five minutes yet.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a slight chuckle. “It was nice to meet you, Aaron!” You called to him as you stepped off his porch, heading to the next house to take your fresh-baked goods to. He closed the door, stepping in and taking a look at the container you’d dropped off. It had a mix of different treats, all homemade. There was a little note inside.

“Jack, I got food!” He yelled to his son as he made his way to the kitchen. He quickly sat it down, opened it, and took out the note before Jack could see it. “Hi! I’m Y/N, your new neighbor! I hope you enjoy these! (p.s. there’s no peanuts!) x” is what the note read. He smiled at the fact that you didn’t give off any real personal information, and even more at the fact that you worried about the allergies of the neighborhood. Not even people you knew. You were worried about the allergies of strangers. He felt his blush come back.

“What’s that?” Jack’s voice tore him away from his thoughts. “Someone moved into the house across the street, she baked some stuff and is giving it out,” Aaron explained. “For free?” Jack inquired, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie. Aaron laughed, “Yeah, she was introducing herself.” Jack nodded, biting into his cookie. “Wow!” He exclaimed, surprised at how good it tasted. Aaron laughed again, reaching for one of his own.

It was almost a week before Aaron saw you again. The team had been called in to work on a semi-local case that lasted four days. It wasn’t the worst thing Aaron had been through, but it’s never easy to come face-to-face with a serial killer. Then, he’d just become busy with paperwork and Jack’s after-school activities. Aaron had helped coach one of his soccer games, which wasn’t something he got to do often.

So now, late Sunday morning, he was finally making the walk across the street to your house. He had planned this since the moment you’d dropped the Tupperware container into his hand. He was going to return it just so he could see you again. 

He gently knocked on your door, loud enough you would hear it if you were around, but not loud enough to wake you up if you’d decided to sleep in today. He hadn’t seen enough to observe your routine. Not in a creepy way, just the way you notice when your neighbor’s car is in its driveway or if they do yardwork every Saturday evening. Come to think of it, he didn’t know any of his neighbor’s routines. He was never around enough to notice them.

When you opened the door, his attention left the surrounding houses and landed right on you. He had been looking around upon realizing how little he knew about the people in his neighborhood. You’d be the first one he’d get to know, he decided.

“Aaron!” You were basically beaming at him. He smiled and mumbled out a, “hello”. “How are you today?” You smiled, stepping out onto the porch to stand near him. “I’m good, I was just coming to return the container.” He explained, holding out the Tupperware. You reached out to take it from him, looking at his hands. You couldn’t help but notice the veins that ran along them.

“Oh! You didn’t have to,” You chuckled, moving your eyes up to look at his again. If you were being honest, you’d been surprised when he answered the door. Chatter about the older man from the neighbors you had given your baked goods to prior to arriving at his house had you ready to be nervous and intimidated.

Instead, you were undeniably attracted to him. When he had first opened the door after hearing your timid knocks, you couldn’t help but let your eyes scan his broad form. You didn’t think he had noticed, as he was too busy trying to figure out why someone was unexpectedly knocking at his door.

“Did you like them?” You asked with wide eyes. He could tell you were genuinely curious. “I did,” He smiled as he continued, “With the few that I had at least. My son loved them.”

“Your son?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. Of course, an attractive man like him was married with kids. You weren’t sure why hadn’t assumed that before. “Yeah, Jack. He’s my son.” Aaron was awkward, not really knowing what you were asking. You recovered quickly, “Which ones were his favorite? I can make more!” Aaron smiled with a slight shake of his head, “He loved them all, you don’t have to worry about any of that.” You laughed, “I do! I love baking, it’s a nice way to pass time.” Aaron nodded along to your words, “I guess he liked the brownies the most, they were gone in a day.” You smiled, taking a mental note. 

“And your wife?” There was a hidden motive behind this question, one you hoped Aaron didn’t pick up on. You wanted, no, needed to know the details of this man’s life. You needed to know if you could keep up the fantasy you were creating of him. He let out an awkward laugh, “Uh, no,” he cleared his throat, “No wife. Just me and Jack.” You almost wanted to break out into a smile at his words, but you knew that would be inappropriate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to like, pry, or anything.” The awkward tone of the conversation was beginning to make you uncomfortable. As much as you wanted to know, you didn’t want to blow your chances with him. “It’s okay,” he comforts you when it should definitely be the other way around, “Just a bit of a touchy subject.” You nodded in understanding. You two stood there in silence for a little bit, before Aaron stepped back. “I should get back,” He said, nodding towards his house.

“Yeah, yeah. It was good to see you again.” Aaron took note of the awkward smile and lack of eagerness in your voice. “You too, Y/N. See you around.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked down the steps of your porch

He was just reaching the curb on his side of the street when he heard someone yell your name. You hadn’t retreated back into your house, instead opting to tidy up the furniture on your porch. He didn’t know you were waiting to make sure he had made it into the house safely. Aaron watched as the man who lived two houses down from you began to approach your porch.

“The cookies were delicious!” The man was still shouting as he walked over. Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He watched as you giggled at his words, yelling back, “Thank you!” When the man approached you, he handed off the same kind of Tupperware container Aaron had given you. Aaron couldn’t help the jealousy that took over him as he realized this man and he had the same idea: returning the container just to see you again.

Once the man reached you and Aaron could no longer hear your conversation, he turned to continue walking back toward his home. He couldn’t help but notice how you giggled at this man’s words. Your conversation with him felt so natural, which was very different from the uncomfortable conversation you two had.

Aaron couldn’t help but feel insecure about this. Of course, you’d want to conversate with the younger, handsome, athletic guy who lived in the neighborhood. Why would you choose an older man who had a child and knees that creaked when he stood from his office chair? You wouldn’t. No one would.

Little did Aaron know, you had been watching him the entire time you were talking to the neighbor. You couldn’t help but check Aaron out as he walked away. His sweatpants hugged his hips deliciously and the athletic fit shirt showed off the muscles in his back. Aaron was hot and you couldn’t deny it.

The next time you saw Aaron was very unexpected. Your friend, Elise, had convinced you to volunteer at the local middle school, working the door for entry to the soccer game they were hosting on a Friday night. Part of her grad school program involved her working at this school, so you guys had signed up together. She was excited to see the students she had been working closely with.

 You, however, had completely forgotten you had a paper due for one of your graduate classes. So, she was up, selling tickets, conversating with parents, and wishing the students good luck, while you had your nose buried in your laptop. Textbooks and articles were spread across the table that was holding the register for the ticket money.

“Jack! You’re gonna do great!” You heard Elise encourage one of the students, not really paying attention anymore. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you looked up from your halfway-done paper. “He’s been practicing hard,” Aaron smiled, touselling the hair on the little boy’s head.

Your movement from behind your laptop caught his attention. “Hello, Y/N,” he said, not expecting to see you there. Jack and your friend both turned to face you, surprised that you and Aaron knew each other.

Aaron pushed Jack forward with a gentle hand on his back, “Buddy, do you remember the cookies and stuff our neighbor had dropped off?” Aaron asked him, ready to introduce you two. “You made them?” Jack asked, stepping closer to you. You nodded at him with a smile, “Yes! I live across the street from you!” You smiled at the young boy. You didn’t notice the eyebrow raise your friend gave you, knowing about the crush you had said you were growing on your older neighbor. She was connecting the dots.

“Do you work here?” Aaron asked as Jack ran into the stadium to join his team. You shook your head, pointing to Elise, “She does. She needed volunteers and asked me to work.” Aaron nodded. He let out a light laugh and pointed to your laptop, “Doesn’t seem like you're doing a lot of work.”

Your cheeks started to warm up in embarrassment, “I have a paper due that I completely forgot about.” Aaron was shocked to hear you discussing college. He thought you were older than that. “You’re in college?” He asked. You nodded again, “Grad school. I only have one more semester until I graduate.” You explained, and he relaxed. You were older than an undergraduate. 

He knew you were young, but he didn’t think he was being perverted by forming a small crush on you. Sure, some people may deem it inappropriate, but it is up to you in the end. If, by some miniscule chance, you harbored the same feelings he did, he wouldn’t feel weird about it, he didn’t think.

Aaron questioned what you were studying and you explained your major, your intended career, and how passionate you were about what you were doing. As your face lit up and your hands aided in your expressive explanation, it was as if Aaron could feel fondness growing in his chest. He began to feel warm, as if you were the sun shining on him.

 He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. The only feeling that could mirror what he was feeling now was when Jack got crowned MVP at his last soccer tournament. It’s the kind of pride that you feel when you know someone is going to go far. Aaron wanted to go with you.

Unfortunately, the buzzer interrupted his thoughts. He let out a breath, a small “Shit” escaping from his lips before he continued, “I gotta get to my seat.” He chucked, rushing away, “Good to see you.” He nodded at you and your friend before disappearing into the stadium.

“So that’s him? The hot next-door neighbor?” Elise squealed, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Elise! Stop!” You whisper-shouted at her, still weary of Aaron’s presence, “I have a paper to finish.” She laughed at the way you made your eyes big, emphasizing that she needed to drop the subject.

“Okay,” Elise breathed out after a while, relaxing in the seat next to you, “we’re done!” You nodded at her words, moving to save the file on your laptop. “What’s next?” You asked as you closed it, deciding to finish the paper later. “You hungry? The concession stand has fantastic pizza!” Even if you weren’t, the way she practically moaned about it had you wanting this pizza. “Sure,” you shrugged. You packed up your things as Elise dropped off the register where it needed to go, and then you guys headed into the stadium.

The line for the concession stand moved quickly. You couldn’t help but scan the stands for Aaron, wondering where he ended up sitting. When Elise proposed staying to see the end of the game, you agreed, solely because it would increase your chances of seeing him again.

And, you did. Not until the very end of the game, after the buzzer had sounded and Jack’s team ran to the sidelines, celebrating the win they had just claimed. The only way you found Aaron was through the cheers. He was the loudest one, the proudest parent sitting amongst the whole school. It brought a smile to your face to know how much he loved his son.

“Congratulations, kid!” Elise cheered for Jack as he approached the entrance to the field, by where you two were standing waiting to congratulate the team. Jack just smiled before turning back to his friends. “You guys did great!” You called from behind her. Aaron smiled at you as he reached where you and Elise were stood.

“So, will you guys be at more games?” He wasn’t going to invite you, as he felt that would be overstepping some invisible boundary he had made up in his head. But, if you were going to be around anyway he could at least offer to sit with you. “I definitely will be!” Elise cheered, turning to you. “I’ll see. You never know with school and work.” You shrugged, trying to mask the disappointment. You were not aware that Aaron was doing the same.

“Dad!” Jack shouts, running over to his father, “Can I sleep at Chris’ house tonight? The whole team is going!” You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked, and the fond look Aaron gave back to him. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s just run home to get your stuff.” Aaron turned to bid a quick goodbye to you and Elise. To your surprise, he turned back to you. “Did you need a ride home?”

You stuttered at his words, “Uh, no, um, Elise-” “Yes, she does! I was her ride but my boyfriend just asked to meet somewhere!” Elise nudged you as she cut you off. She waved her phone to emphasize her point. “Thanks, Mr. Hotchner, you’re the best! Have fun at your sleepover, Jack!” Elise said as she stepped away from the group. Once you were the only one that could see her, she threw you a big smile and thumbs up, before taking off to your car.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that happened,” You gestured to your friend running off as you apologized. “No need to be sorry, I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me. It’s not like you live far away.” You nodded and smiled at Aaron’s comforting words, thanking him again. “C’mon, the car’s this way.” You followed him and Jack, watching as Aaron congratulated Jack on the win and questioned him on the different strategies the team uses throughout.

Aaron opened the passenger door as Jack climbed his way into the back. Your jaw almost dropped as you realized he opened it for you. It was so casual. He didn’t even stop his conversation with Jack as he held it open for you. He laughed at something as you buckled your seat belt up.

 When he leaned over to check that you were comfortable in the seat, his eyes met yours. He gave you the softest smile you’d ever seen and you could feel butterflies take flight in your stomach. Your cheeks felt warm and you looked down at your hands, growing nervous under his gaze. You mumbled a soft “thank you” as he closed your door, walking around to the driver’s side.

Aaron noticed your nervousness this time. He could tell you were shocked at his actions. Initially, this made him sad as he realized that no man had ever shown you the care you deserved. However, that sadness quickly turned to excitement as he realized he could be the first. He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved in so many ways, definitely more than just opening a door for you.

The drive to your homes was filled with laughter as you and Jack tried to sing the pop songs that were steadily playing on the radio. Jack kept stumbling over the words and you could not carry a tune to save your life. Aaron had matching butterflies to yours as you interacted with his son.

His car pulled into the driveway and Jack was inside the house faster than you could even open your door. You both laughed as Aaron made his way around the car to stand with you. “I can walk you across while he gets his things,” Aaron gestured to his house, indicating Jack might be a second inside.

“You don’t have to. Get him to his sleepover, he seems excited.” Aaron laughed, nodding along to your words. “Have a good night, Aaron.” He wished you the same and watched as you made your way to your house. His eyes didn’t leave your figure until you were safely inside.

Jack gathered his things for the sleepover very quickly. Aaron was almost certain he had forgotten something as they made their way back into the car. Once they were buckled and on their way, Jack shifted his body to face his dad.

“Dad?” He asked, getting his father’s attention. Aaron let out a gentle “hmm” of recognition. “Do you have a crush on our neighbor?” Aaron didn’t answer, reaching forward to turn up the radio, but the pink spreading across his dad’s cheeks was the only answer Jack needed.

Aaron was exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted. The case and been long and gut-wrenching. The only victory was the arrest of the unsub, as he had murdered all of his previous victims before the team could save them. Aaron was gone for two and a half weeks, and barely got any sleep while he was away.

“Thanks, JJ,” His voice was weak as he thanked her, reaching into the back of the SUV to get his go-bag. He had been too tired to drive himself. JJ had kindly offered after seeing the dark eye bags he was wearing. “Anytime, Hotch. Get some sleep.” He could only muster up a nod in return.

Aaron was turning the key in his lock when he heard your door. “Shit!” You yelped as the glass outer door slammed. He turned around with a chuckle, never too tired to see you. “Hello, Y/N!” He called as best he could with how tired he was.

He was suddenly wide awake when you faced him. He hoped you couldn’t see his eyes scan the entirety of your body, pausing at your very exposed thighs. You were in a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt that came down the end of your butt. The shorts you were wearing with it were incredibly short, barely covered by the shirt. Even with the distance between your houses, he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra.

He wanted to blame the way his dick was hardening on how tired he was, and definitely not the dirty thoughts he was having about you right now. He could imagine the way his rough hands would trace the skin across your thighs as he pulled you into his lap, preparing to devour you. His fantasies did not slow as you yelled back to him, very excitedly, “Aaron! Where have you been?”

He shook his head, attempting to clear it so he could have a normal conversation with you. His heart fluttered at the fact that you’d noticed his disappearance. “I was away for work,” he informed, “for far too long.” You erupted into a smile, walking off your porch, “Well, the neighborhood missed you!” He knew you were lying. No one in this neighborhood knew him. They didn’t care if he was gone or not.

But, being a profiler had its perks. He knew the hidden meaning in your words. You missed him. His brain was tired and his heart was beating a million times a minute. That must’ve been why his mouth was moving before he could stop it, “I missed you too.” The words rolled off of his tongue, no thought behind them. No thoughts, but definitely feelings.

You hoped Aaron couldn’t see the way your eyes lit up at his words. You could feel the heat growing in your cheeks as you continued to make your way to your little garden. That’s why you were out here, to get your front yard set up for Halloween decorations. “Get some rest, Aaron. Welcome home.

Even with you raising your voice, he could hear the softness behind it. You sounded so fond. This is how he wanted to be welcomed home after every case, with your sweet voice and gentle demeanor. “Have a nice night!” He called to you, before stepping through his front door.

He dropped his stuff by the door and reached up to loosen his tie. He kicked his shoes off and then moved to undo his belt. Leaving both the tie and the belt on the arm of the couch, he made his way right to the master bathroom. He had texted Jessica to let her know he would pick Jack up in the morning during the drive home, too tired to make the drive to her house.

Aaron had forgotten about his half-hard dick, too encompassed by your presence outside. He ignored it, stripping down and climbing into the hot shower. He hadn’t realized how tense his muscles were until the hot water ran down them, relaxing his whole body. As he loosened up, his mind drifted back to you. As he imagined holding onto your thighs as he fucked into you from behind. He could clearly make out the curve of your ass.

He felt as if he wasn’t controlling himself as his hands moved to his now fully hard dick. He didn’t mean to jerk himself off to dirty thoughts of you, his brand new, younger neighbor, but you looked so fucking sexy. His hand wrapped around his cock tighter as he remembered the outline of your tits that he could make out from across the street.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to release as he tried to imagine the noises you would make for him. All the times you said his name replayed in his name and he tried to imagine you moaning it, whining it, grunting it, screaming it. He could’ve sworn he could smell your lavender perfume as he came. He opened his eyes as he finished stroking himself through his orgasm. He watched as the water washed away the cum that had landed on his hand and stomach.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, frustrated with the hold you had on him. Now that he got that out of his system, he couldn’t believe he just came to the thought of you.

 He had been having doubts earlier, wondering how inappropriate, how immoral, how wrong his growing crush was. Being a senior in graduate school, you had to be late 20s, maybe early 30s at the most. Being mid-40s, there was at least a 15-year age gap between the two of you.

He had to shake these thoughts. He quickly lathered himself up, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. He slipped on a pair of boxers and climbed into his bed. He was asleep in less than five minutes.

The next morning, he was woken up by knocks on his door. He had slept for about 11 hours, so he wasn’t mad that his slumber was interrupted. “Coming!” He yelled, shuffling for pants to throw on. Once he got a pair of plaid pajama pants on, he made his way down the hall to the front door.

He didn’t have time to register who it was before he heard your voice, “I’m so sorry to wake you up! I know it’s early but my car won’t start and I have an exam at one and I really need to be on time so I was wondering if maybe you could come look at it?”

Your mouth was moving faster than your brain could keep up with, obviously feeling bad about the whole situation. “Slow down,” Aaron breathed out, trying to get you to relax. His efforts failed as you ran your hand along your hairline and mumbled an “’m sorry”. “I can come, give me just a minute.” He stepped back, opening the door further for you to step inside to wait.

Your eyes widened at his silent invitation. You followed him through the door, awkwardly standing by the front door. You could tell from your spot in the entryway that the layout of his house mirrored yours. He was currently on his way down the hall to the master bedroom. To get a shirt, you presumed.

You definitely noticed the lack of clothing on his part. It was clear you’d disturbed him, and while you felt bad about that, you were ridiculously grateful. His morning voice, low-rise pajama pants, and hairy chest will be pressed into your memory, ready to be used when you needed some help finishing yourself off.

He appeared again quickly, fully clothed with socks and slides on his feet. He opened the front door, gesturing for you to go through. He followed you across the street to your driveway, where your very old sedan sat. “Can I have the key?” You nodded, retrieving the key from your pocket and pressing it into Aaron’s large hand.

As Aaron went to start the car, it was hard for him not to realize that this was the dream life he had conjured up for you when you first showed up on his porch. Here he was, being the manly man, helping you with your car. He tried turning it on and the sound of the engine sputtering made you want to cry. Without words, Aaron walked around to pop the hood, analyzing what was going on. He was quiet as he looked, and you wouldn’t dare interrupt it. “I think it’s the spark plugs. I have the stuff in my garage.” He said after a few minutes.

You nodded along to his words, trying to convince him that you knew exactly what he was talking about. As he began to make his way back across the street, you couldn’t help yourself from apologizing again. “Thank you, Aaron. I’m really sorry.” He was quick to turn back around to face you. With a hefty shake of his head, he spoke, “Please stop apologizing, this is what I’m here for.” He smiled at you, before returning to his journey to the garage.

If you were growing a crush on him before, it was full-fledged now. You needed to do something about this before your heart exploded at his actions and you soaked through your underwear at his words.

He returned after a few minutes, carrying a toolbox. You couldn’t do anything but stare as he worked on the car. He didn’t say much, focused on doing this right for you. Every once in a while he would attempt to explain what he was doing, but you were too distracted by the way the muscles in his arm contorted as he worked.

“That should do it,” He said as he made his way back into the driver’s seat. Sure enough, after a few turns of the key, the car sputtered to life. “Oh my god, thank you!” You spoke as he stepped up from the seat, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re a lifesaver!” You squealed. Aaron’s hands awkwardly found their way around your waist, surprised at the sudden contact. Surprised, but very intrigued.

When you pulled away, Aaron felt cold. “Not a problem, Y/N.” He said as he wiped the grim off of his hands. “Why don’t you give me your number so next time you don’t have to walk all the way over?” The way he asked was so casual. He was so calm as your heartbeat increased with every word. Your number? Next time?

“Yeah! Sure!” You were afraid your voice sounded too excited, blowing your cover. Aaron picked up on it but didn’t mention it. You two quickly exchanged numbers, and he excused himself, stating he needed to pick up Jack. “Seriously, Aaron. Thank you.” You emphasized, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. You were being bold. You pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. He turned away before you could see the pink blush spread across his cheeks. “Anytime.” He said, starting to walk away.

You spent the next couple of hours cramming for your exam and trying to repress any thoughts of Aaron Hotchner that your brain was attempting to conjure up. It was working, your focus on passing this exam. However, on your drive to campus, your phone dinged. Your car showed you a message from ‘Aaron (neighbor)’. You were giddy the rest of the way, not wanting to open while you were driving.

When you parked, you opened your phone to a simple text: “Good luck on your exam! You got this.” You walked into class with a smile, and you were pretty sure you aced the exam. 

You were surprised at the amount of time you and Aaron spent texting. It was definitely an assumption you had made based solely on his age, but you did not expect him to want to text. However, he appeared to be better than men your age at it. Quick replies, letting you know when he’d be unavailable, and absolutely never leaving on you read. Sometimes you had to explain emojis or slang to him, but you found it adorable.

You had learned that he works for the FBI in a unit that catches things like serial killers, rapists, and kidnappers. He was away on a case right now, somewhere in California. He had learned that you had a very old dog, but other than that, it was just you in the house.

There were times when the conversation felt a bit flirty. Teasing jokes thrown around, compliments to each other. Part of you was starting to think he may reciprocate your feelings, but the other part was starting to think you were delusional. There was no way he could ever like you back.

Until he did.

Elise and a few of your other friends had dragged to a bar downtown. One you had never been to. Like normal, you and Aaron were in the middle of a text conversation while you were sitting at the bar. You had been up and dancing, having fun with your friends, but you couldn’t stay away from your phone long enough to enjoy your time.

Elise was picking up on this. After a few rounds of shots, she was getting aggravated. She couldn’t comprehend how you were managing an intelligent conversation with him, but she knew she had to get you away from it. She kept telling herself it was for your own good, not wanting to feel guilty about the atrocities she was about to commit.

However, it was going to be so much worse than either of you had anticipated.

Elise slithered her way in between you and the person sitting on the barstool next to you. The older lady on your right was definitely agitated with her actions, but Elise did not care. She saw the white screen of your text messages and long contact name and knew who you were texting. Even in her drunken state, she could recall all of the screenshots you had been sending her from your conversations with Aaron.

“Give it here,” Elise slurred, reaching for your phone. It was still unlocked as she held it in her tight grasp. “You’re texting your hot middle-aged neighbor. Come shake some ass with us and find a guy your own age.” Her words were a little bit harsher than she intended. “Elise, stop. I’m enjoying texting my hot middle-aged neighbor and do not want to find a guy my own age” You demanded with your own drunken slur, reaching for the phone. “Uh-uh,” Elise shook her head, locking the phone and tucking into the cup of her bra, out of your reach for the rest of your night.

Only because you were forced to, you eventually did get up and dance with your friends. Just your friends, no men at all.

Elise only returned your phone at the very end of the night, when you needed to order an Uber home. Your head was starting to spin from all the alcohol, so that was all you did. After the order was placed, you gripped your phone as a way to keep the world from twirling underneath. The Uber arrived, too slow for your liking, and you were home. You immediately made your way towards the couch, ready to pass out.

The loud knocks on your door did nothing to help the pounding headache you had woken up with, and you couldn’t imagine who was knocking. The knocks were powerful and authoritarian. “Hello?” You questioned as you threw open the door. There was clearly attitude behind your greeting. “What did that mean?” Aaron’s voice sounded rushed as he pushed himself inside the door. He was dressed in a suit and acting very different than the Aaron you had known before.

“The message, the last one you sent.” He seemed stressed, running his hand through his hair. Something about the way he looked made him look exhausted. Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he meant. You grabbed your phone from the end table next to your couch and opened your and Aaron’s message thread. Your eyes widened at the voice message marked as “read: 1:32 AM”.

“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered out, afraid to meet his eye, “What did it say?” Aaron took a step away from you. “It was Ms. Landon, uh, your friend from the game,” He sounded nervous as he spoke, “You should just listen to it.” You nodded, checking the volume on your phone and then listening to the message

It was right after Elise had grabbed your phone when she was berating you for being on your phone the whole time. When she mentioned your hot middle-aged neighbor and you replied, also calling him your hot middle-aged neighbor. And saying you did not want to find a guy your age because of him.

“Aaron, I am so sorry-” You started, wanting to apologize for your and your friend’s actions and blame the whole thing on being intoxicated, but he cut you off. “Forgive me for barging in here like this, Y/N, but I need to know why you were ignoring your friends to text me.” He finally locked eyes with you, and the eye bags under his eyes were the first thing you noticed.

There was a beat of silence, until he continued, “Y/N, I have enjoyed the sparse moments we have shared together. And I may be reading this wrong, I may just be incredibly sleep-deprived, but I think you have as well. I understand that I am older than you, but I would like to continue to have these moments with you. I would like to see what else we can do together.” 

Your heart started to beat at his confession. You nodded at his words, rendered speechless for the first time in your life. You couldn’t stop yourself as your legs moved forward, reaching for his face and pulling him into a kiss.

There was very little hesitation as Aaron’s hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. You didn’t know he’d been waiting to do this since you met, but you were going to find out soon. His hands gripped you tighter as he deepened the kiss, moving his tongue into your mouth. He was very skillful in the way he held you and the way he kissed you.

You didn’t separate until you needed air. If it wasn’t for the fact that you needed air to live, you could’ve stayed wrapped up with him forever. Your forehead was pressed to his as you whispered, “Are we gonna talk about this?” He knew that you were talking about where you were supposed to go from here. Is it gonna be a relationship? Are you going to be exclusive? How would it work with him being away so much? What would your role in Jack’s life be?

Aaron decided all of these questions would remain unanswered as he said, “Later, we got things to do right now..” He pulled you tight against him, roughly pressing his lips to yours again.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring. 

You walk along the street. 

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into. 

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops. 

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?” 

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils. 

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them. 

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique. 

He pulls back, falling into step with you. 

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.” 

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement. 

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?” 

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with. 

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering. 

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.” 

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh. 

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely. 

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat. 

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it. 

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet. 

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?” 

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night. 

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better. 

He doesn’t answer. 

You stop walking. 

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.) 

Still, no answer. 

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing. 

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare. 

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means. 

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him. 

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded. 

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought. 

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races. 

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way? 

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum. 

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always. 

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.” 

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne. 

This is bad for your feelings. 

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.) 

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold. 

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly. 

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you. 

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly. 

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.” 

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day. 

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin. 

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder. 

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek. 

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter. 

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place. 

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching. 

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?” 

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.” 

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. 

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.” 

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too. 

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it. 

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.” 

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile. 

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.” 

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that. 

“Someday,” you catch his eyes again. 

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique. 

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.) 

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.” 

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not. 

. 

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood. 

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more. 

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter. 

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16. 

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’. 

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[prodbyton]

into you ☆ l.at

lee anton x fem reader

your mom and her best friend set you up with your old friend from childhood, and you two pretend to date in order to keep them happy. but what happens when feelings start to brew, and the past gets revealed?

college!au, fake dating, ex friends to semi friends to lovers, slowburn, mutual pining, fluff, a bit of angst, smut 18+ MDNI, anton is a self sabotaging idiot.

🎀 cw. smut (ofc), dom!anton, fingering, not really a size kink but anton's size is mentioned a few times, overstimulation, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up,,) creampie, little bit of dry humping, cum eating

⭐️ wc. 15.7k

🎧 into you . tamia • sycamore girl . rex orange county

"i feel like it's so humiliating having my mom set me up on a date." you hold the phone in between your cheek and your shoulder, trying your best to find a good enough outfit.

your best friend, sky, was your emotional support through this whole situation. "it's kind of cute though, like she's looking out for you in a way" she says over the speaker, and you roll your eyes at her comment.

"right, because nothing is cuter than your mom saying 'you're so lonely i'm going to take matters into my own hands'," a hard sigh leaves your lips.

"well when you put it that way, i guess you're right. but this could be nice! what if he's nice, what if he's hot-"

"please, i don't really have a lot of hope in whatever nice guy has picked out"

speaking of the nice guy, you heard the doorbell ring and you sigh again knowing that the next few hours you could be spending rotting in bed, you will now be spending with a mystery man who's probably some secret asshole that's masked as an angel by your mother.

you get off the phone with sky and make your way downstairs towards the door, slipping your shoes and sweater on. you look to your side and see your mom walking down the hall with a bright smile on her face. as you open the door, you see someone you never expected to see.

lee anton.

he has this near fake smile on his face when the door opens, making eye contact with you and then smiling at your mom who was behind you.

"hi y/n, hi mrs.l/n" he starts and you have to fight your eyes from rolling so hard. why was he here? surely he wasn’t… no. no way

"hello anton, you look so handsome, come in, come in!" your mom now is pushing you to the side to drag the boy into the house.

"now y/n, i didn't tell you before because i wanted to make sure you wouldn't freak out, but anton here is your date!"

and that's when a piece of your soul died.

"excuse me?" you try your absolute hardest to not yell, but the confusion and slight anger is building up.

ever since you were little, your mom and antons mom always wished that you two would end up together. you two were friends up until high school, but with new friend groups and new interests the two of you went down different paths. it happens and there weren't really any hard feelings, at least until he started completely ignoring your existence. you didn't hate him, but you were not pleased with his past behavior. and you definitely were not pleased right now.

"don't be rude y/n, this is a great thing! you're a beautiful girl, and anton is a handsome boy. you two have known each other since you were kids and you both go to the same university! it's a perfect match. now you two hurry up and go so you don't miss the reservation i made. have fun" she shoves you two out of the door before you could protest any further and anton is saying goodbye to your mom in his fake sweet voice he's always used with her.

if only she knew that you two haven't spoken since junior year of high school.

you fold your arms across your chest while you walk towards antons car, him rushing to catch up to you so he could open the door. 

"how nice of you" you taunted, giving him a fake smile before stepping into the passenger's seat of his car. he gives you that same fake smile before closing the door, not saying a word to you. he walks around the car and gets in, putting on his seatbelt and starting the car.

"you want aux?" he finally speaks, pressing the bluetooth options on his car to connect your phone if you'd like. you happily oblige, not wanting to listen to whatever he wants to put on. even if you two had very similar taste in music, you would always argue that your taste is better. once you press shuffle on your main playlist, he pulls his car out of your driveway and starts the drive to the restaurant your mother picked out for you.

you shift in the seat so you're leaning towards the window, and you open your messages to text your friend sky about the insane situation you were in,

you: oh my fucking god you: its anton you: lee fucking anton!! my mom is sick sky: omg you two haven't talked since highschool! sky: please don't kill him you: no promises sky: maybe you two will fall in love now you: over my dead body sky: if you are gonna be in the same space as him for the next few hours, maybe ask him to put me on with wonbin you: do not use my pain and suffering as a way to get dick sky: i'm trying to find ways for us both to benefit from this! sky: i shouldn't have to suffer because you don't want to talk to anton sky: plus anton is hot! as fuck! i say give it a shot, and if it works out then i can have a shot at his sexy friend you: you are evil sky: update me later babes 

aside from the music playing in the car, the ride to the restaurant was silent. anton wanted to talk, but he just couldn't find the right words to say. not like you would want to listen to anything he'd say anyways. but it was just for the car ride, he told himself he'd talk once you two were seated.

pulling into the parking lot, anton parks the car and turns off the ignition. he got out of the car and did a slight speed walk so he could open your door to let you out, and this time the smile was genuine as you got out of the car.

he's not an asshole, you think. i guess i could try and make the most of this date.

he was never an asshole to you, even throughout the years you haven't spoken. of course, avoiding you and acting like you don't exist at events could be taken as being an asshole, but it's not bad compared to the way you've been treated by other men. he's always been a sweet, well-mannered, soft spoken boy.

you two weren't best friends back then, but it still hurt when the two of you drifted apart.

as you two walk into the restaurant, anton talks to the host about the reservation your mother made and you two get seated at a nice booth near the back.

"so, did you know about this? like, did you know that i was the person you were getting set up with?" you start, not looking at him but looking at the menu to get a feel of what you'd want once the waiter comes around to ask for drinks.

"well not at first, but my mom kept hinting at things that traced back to you. wasn't surprised though, they've been trying to set us up since we were in elementary school." he says it almost with no emotion, and you react with a small laugh that makes him smile.

"what kinds of things did she say?" you're intrigued once you really process what he said.

"well" he starts, and you lean into the table with interest. "it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. she was just like 'you should come to visit this weekend, there's a girl i think you would really hit it off with. you actually know her and you two would make a great couple blah blah blah.' things she's already said to me before trying to set me and you up. your mom really didn't give you any hints about today?" it was his turn now to be intrigued, remembering how shocked you were to see him at the door earlier.

"i had no idea. i was scared she was setting me up with some ugly asshole that she would think i would like, when she really has no idea what my type is. she just told me to come for the weekend and was like 'oh he's a sweetheart you're going to love him!' and that was that." you mock your moms swooning voice and anton laughs. 

the next hour and a half at the restaurant went well, you two were able to break the awkwardness and catch up from the past years. it felt good honestly. the relief of getting a friend back was always the best feeling.

once you two finished eating, the waiter came around to hand you guys the bill. you figured you two would just split it, this was technically a date but you didn't really think of it that way. and you didn't want anton spending his money on you, you both were forced on this 'date' and it wouldn't be fair in your eyes for him to pay for you. you quickly turn to grab your wallet out of your purse, but once you get your card out the waiter is already walking away with antons card.

"dude, you didn't have to do that!" you whisper yell at him, and he just chuckles.

"don't worry about it. date or not, if you pulled your card out it would look like i was some broke asshole trying to split the bill" he says in his soft voice and you nod, understanding where he was coming from.

the waiter comes back around with antons card, and you guys make your way out of the restaurant and back to his car. he opens the door for you again, you step in and make yourself comfortable this time, adjusting the seat to your liking.

the ride to your house was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. you didn't really know what this meant for the two of you. were you guys friends again? was this really a date and there were more in the foreseeable future? was this just a one time thing?

to be completely honest you didn't want to date anton. not that he wasn't attractive, you would be living a lie if you said he wasn't. he was definitely one of the most attractive guys you've ever seen, but it would just be weird to date him. you guys were friends and it was still a semi-mystery on where you two stand in terms of friendship. and did you really want to date someone your mom set you up with? you're still in college and honestly you don't know what exactly you want yet.

"so um, i'll walk you to the door" suddenly the quiet was awkward again as he got out of the car to let you out and walk you to the front door. and now here you two were, standing awkwardly in front of the door both trying to think of something to say.

why was it so weird now? you were both fine holding a conversation not even an hour ago.

"sorry that our moms pushed us into doing this, but it was nice to uh- it was nice to talk to you again" anton puts his hands in his jean pockets and looks down at you with a sheepish smile, and you look up at him and smile back.

"yeah, it was nice seeing you. you're not gonna go ghost on me again after this are you? cus i know where you live, and i'll tell your mom" you threaten him, and he puts his hands up in defense. if there's one thing you remember about your friendship with anton, it was that his mom did not play about you. if even a scratch got on you when you and anton were together, he would get an earful about being too reckless. even if you were the reckless one

"there's no need for all of that! i won't go ghost on you, it's nice to get a friend back"

"well then, i'll see you on campus?" you look up at him, and he nods.

"see you on campus"

and with that, you put your keys into the door and make your way into the house, giving anton a small wave goodbye before closing the door and taking off your shoes. as you make your way through the house and pass the living room, you see your mother sitting on the couch with a smile so wide her face probably hurts.

"next time you ask me to come home for the weekend to go on a date, i'm blocking your number" you joke, and she rolls her eyes before getting up and walking towards you excitedly.

"how did it go? isn't he just the sweetest boy? are you guys going out on another date? did you kiss?" she wiggles her eyebrows and you nearly gag.

"mom! oh my gosh, no i did not kiss anton! what kind of girl do you think i am? i don't kiss on the first date" she lets out a small pfft at your response.

"so you’re saying there's a second date?" the tone in her voice is teasing and expectant, and you shut her down again.

"that's not what i meant... and i wouldn't even call that a date. we had a nice time though" 

"i think you should give him a chance y/n" her hands run up both your arms, giving them a small squeeze when she reaches your shoulders. she gives you a look that almost makes you want to give into her, but you have to stand on your own words.

"i think that, i'm going to go upstairs and go to sleep and forget today happened"

the next day you're making your way back to campus, leaving earlier in the day so you can hang out with sky before she's too tired to listen to your rambling.

"i can't believe you didn't text or call me last night to give me all the juicy details about your date with anton!" sky whines, plopping next to you on the couch with a frown on her face.

"it was not a date, and i wanted to tell you in person that's why i didn't tell you anything! you should be thanking me for being such a thoughtful and considerate friend" 

"yeah yeah, now let's hear it. how was it? what was he wearing, did he smell good, did you guys kiss-"

"what is up with people thinking i just go around kissing everyone? i did not fucking kiss anton, and i didn't smell him! you weirdo..." you playfully slap her shoulder, and she giggles. "but it was fine. it was more like catching up with an old friend than a date."

"so are you guys friends again? it's been how many years since you've talked?"

"like 3 years now... it's so weird! it was so awkward at the start too, like i didn't know what to say to him and then it being a date that our moms planned just made it even worse" 

"this is good though! now that you two are friends, i can stop trying to avoid his friend." she’s smirking now, and you give her the meanest side eye. she’s been crushing on wonbin for months now, but she didn’t want to date one of antons friends for your sake. You did have some mutual friends, but you wouldn't go past the line of friendship with anyone who was associated with anton because you didn't want to cross paths with him more than necessary. 

"i really can't believe you would take advantage of this situation to hook up with wonbin!"

"i'm just putting it in the air that i would totally fuck antons friend if given the opportunity. and with your little situation you give me the perfect opportunity to shoot my shot" she says matter of factly, and you know that you can't stop her once she has her mind to something so you just sigh.

"you're unbelievable" 

after debriefing your saturday with sky, you two were still hanging out on the couch watching tv. truthfully, the tv was watching you both since you were both on your phones. while you were scrolling through videos, an unexpected notification pops on the top of your screen.

it was anton. what was he texting you for? technically you two were friends again, but you didn't know you two would be back on a texting basis so soon.

ant: are you back on campus? ant: this is anton btw you: i knew it was you you: but yeah i'm on campus, what's up? ant: can you meet me in the dining hall you: right now? ant: if you're not busy right now, then yeah you: i'll be there in 10

“i'm gonna go to the dining hall to get some snacks, you want anything?” 

“just a soda pleaseee”

you go to your room to change your sweatpants to jeans and throw on a hoodie, then you make your way out of your apartment to meet anton. luckily, it wasn't a long walk from where you lived. it was a small apartment off campus that you and sky split. as you’re nearing your destination, you see the boy standing outside on his phone while he waited for you. he looks up and sees you, waving you over once you notice him. 

“hey” he breathes out once you reach him, and you put your hands in your hoodie pocket while you look up at him.

“hi” you give him a small smile, following him as you two walk into the dining hall.

“you weren’t busy or anything, right? i didn't mean to interrupt your afternoon” he finds a nice table for you two to sit, and you watch as he fidgets with his fingers. 

“no, no don't worry i wasn't doing anything. but what's up?” 

he lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. he seemed nervous, which was making you nervous. you literally saw him yesterday, what could have happened in the last 24 hours?

“don’t be mad, okay?” 

“you can’t tell me not to get mad anton, now i'm preparing to be mad.” you roll your eyes, the concern you had turning into a lack of patience. he should know by now how much of an impatient person you were, never liking suspense or surprises.

“well um, after yesterday my mom was really happy that we went on a ‘date’,” he puts finger quotes over the word date, and you raise an eyebrow “...and she kept going on and on about us being a couple”

“you told her we weren’t dating, right?” 

silence. it was your time to sigh now, already knowing where this was headed.

“anton…” your voice drifts, and he jumps to defend himself.

“she was just so happy! i didn't want to let her down. so she’s kind of under the assumption that we’re dating.” he puts his head down, probably because he expected you to start yelling at any moment. 

“dude! you can't just do that without telling me, now my mom’s gonna think we’re together too” it was your time to sigh now, confusion and a tang of anger brewing through you. 

“i'm sorry, really. but thats why i needed to see you, i think i have a solution for this” 

“the solution better be you telling your mom that we’re not together, anton” your voice is serious, and you fold your arms over your chest.

“well not exactly, we could just let our moms think we’re a couple whenever we are around them, but we don't have to really be together! that way we can still be friends and they can be happy” he says it like it's the greatest idea in the world, and you stare at him blankly for a few seconds.

“are you insane? i am not doing that.” a scoff leaves your lips, and he gives you a defeated look before he tries again.

“it's just for our moms! no one has to know” it’s honestly comical at this point how he was borderline begging you. but you understand where he’s coming from. if you told your mom that you and anton really weren’t dating, you would never hear the end of it and she would keep trying to get you two together. 

“i'll think about it. but you're buying me lunch”

you spent the night in your room thinking. it really wasn't a bad idea, but fake or not, did you want to date anton? just for the sake of your moms, and no one else had to know. it would be believable in the eyes of your moms, since you two were friends again you two would be hanging out. 

i guess i could pretend to date him for a little bit. how often would we be around our parents for it to be a problem? if we’re always on campus, they won't expect to see us that much. you were mumbling to yourself, weighing your options before you decided to text anton your decision. 

you: i thought about it  ant: so? you: it's just for our moms you: and you're buying me food for a month! ant: deal

you have your head in your hands while you try to keep yourself focused for the last 20 minutes of class, bored out of your mind while your professor talks at the slowest pace known to man. you're spacing out now, twirling your pen between your fingers and staring straight forward. letting your eyes drift, they fall on anton. he was sitting in the row in front of you, and from where he was sitting you were able to see his side profile. it almost looked like he was sleeping, which wouldn’t surprise you since you were also super bored. 

how do you go back to being friends with someone after years of not talking? the two of you were cool but you can't help but think that it would be awkward for a little bit until you two were comfortable again. how much has he changed? how much have you changed? what if you have nothing in common anymore, and it was the universe's plan for you two to drift apart?

stop overthinking things, you guys are just friends. there was nothing to overthink, right?

after a few more minutes of arguing with your inner monologue, class is finally over. you're packing up your things when you notice someone is standing over you. you look up to see anton. 

“do you want to get lunch? if you don't have any classes after this, of course. it'll be me and some of my friends, you can invite sky too if you want since i know you’re not very familiar with all of them” he says to you softly. You were kind of hungry now that he’s brought up food, and who would you be to deny a free meal?

“thank god you asked me, i'm starving. let me text sky to see if she wants to join” You get out of your seat and follow anton out of the classroom and to the dining hall.

you text sky to come to the dining hall, and that you'll be having lunch with anton. You tell her that wonbin will be there too knowing that she’ll get there faster than the speed of light. and you were right, once you and anton were turning the corner you could see sky out of breath as she came up to you.

“y/n!! no matter what i do, i just can't get my grade up higher than a c in chem! i don't know how anyone is passing that class, i swear i'm going to kill my professor- oh, hi anton!” sky is ranting to you while barely catching her breath, and then she realizes that anton was standing next to you. she gives him a smile, and then gives you a look. 

if anton wasn’t right there, you would hit her and tell her to cut it out. You knew her look was a ‘he looks good’ type of look, and you didn't want him to pick up on her nonsense.

“hey sky, and who’s your chem professor? i heard mr.jung was a pain in the ass, one of my friends has him for chem too” you all make your way to where antons friends are sitting now, eying the group to see if anyone else you know is there.

“i have mr.jung! i swear im gonna kill myself if he doesn’t raise my grade.” sky pouts, and you all stand before the table, anton going to introduce you and sky to the group.

“guys this is y/n and sky” he raises his voice a bit so everyone can hear him, and everyone waves and says hi to you both. “y/n, sky, this is sohee, wonbin, sullyoon, and seunghan” 

You already knew sohee and sullyoon, you all were partners in a project for bio last semester and got kind of close. and you didn’t know wonbin aside from sky thirsting over him for the last two years, showing you every little thing he posted on social media like he was some celebrity crush. and seunghan you weren’t too familiar with, could be simply because you don't have any classes with him in it and you don't know much of the friends anton has made since you two talked last.

you finally take a seat next to anton, sky and sohee sitting across from you. his friends are cool, you admit as you make good conversation with everyone at the table. you didn’t have a real friend group on campus, you mainly only talked to sky along with a few other people but they were all a part of different crowds. so it was nice that anton let you join in with his group of friends. 

“do you want to get your food now? i can get it for you if you want to stay here,” anton leans over to talk to you, loud enough for only you to hear. 

“no its fine ill come with” you turn to face him and you two let the table know you’re getting food and you’ll be right back. 

you two grab trays and fill up your plates, now going to the line to pay for the food. You decide now you should quickly run over some rules about how this fake relationship is going to go, since you’re hanging out with his friends you don't want any suspicions about what your relationship with anton was.

“we’re keeping this whole thing a secret from our friends, right? ” you ask him, and he takes a moment to think before he responds.

“if you want to keep it a secret then sure, it might be weird to tell people that we’re faking a relationship, and that way we don't have to fake it in front of our friends” he lets out a soft laugh, and you nod in agreement. 

“that’s true, telling sky that you’re my boyfriend would raise all kinds of hell”

Unfortunately, neither you or anton realized sohee was walking up behind you both and was able to pick up on the last bits of your conversation. intrigued, he butts in to stand in between you two. “hey guys, what's all this talk about boyfriend and girlfriend? You two dating?” he smirks, and you and anton stare at him and then at each other in shock.

this cannot be happening.

“What?” you let out a nervous chuckle “no, we’re not” it comes out faster than you can process, and you look at sohee with a smile hoping that he believes you. but he doesn't. not even a little bit.

he squints, giving you a look and then giving the same look to anton and then looking back at you. “You were just saying that anton was your boyfriend though.” you look past sohee to look at anton, he was paying for your food while you were being interrogated by sohee. Your body is heating up with anxiety, realizing nothing you say could get this boy to drop the topic. curse him for being so nosey.

“We just haven't told anyone yet, we didn’t want to make it a big deal.” anton chimes in before you could think of a reasonable response, and now you and sohee were looking at anton with wide eyes.

“this is great! we all thought there had to be something going on with you two,” he’s teasing you two now, and all you could do was sigh. this entire situation taking a sharp turn and you know that sohee was going to tell everyone, and there was no escape from being antons fake girlfriend. 

Why did he have to tell sohee that you two were together? again, doing things without letting you know first. and he’s a bit of a loudmouth, so you know when he’s walking away that he’s going to tell the table that you two were together.

“What the fuck anton? Why did you do that” You whine, grabbing your food tray from him while you make your way back to the table.

You honestly don't even want to talk to him right now. You were annoyed, you were just agreeing that you two would keep it a secret?

anton follows close behind you, understanding your anger since he didn’t realize what he was saying until he said it. truthfully, his mind went into fight or flight for a moment. the easiest thing he could think of to get sohee to leave you two alone was to just give into what he was saying. obviously, he didn’t realize the gravity of his words until after the fact. 

as you two approach the table, everyone is looking at you guys and smiling. You want to scream. this seriously cannot be my life. 

“the love birds are back!!” Wonbin cheers, and the rest of the table follows along with whistles and cheers.

“y/n, why didn't you tell me! you had me thinking we hated him” sky pouts as you sit down, and antons ears perk up at this. you hated him? he took note in his mind to ask you about that later.

“you guys could have told us, y'know. we would have figured it out anyways. the tension is definitely there” sullyoon comments while she takes a bite of her food. the rest of the table nods in agreement, and you let out a small scoff.

What tension are they talking about? the few encounters with anton that you’ve had with him before this weekend were definitely tense, but only because it was awkward. Whatever tension they thought they felt was out of pure delusion. 

You don't know how much more of this you could put up with.

the week went by slowly. almost too slow for your liking. it was finally friday, and your mom is texting you to come home for the weekend again, and to bring anton with you. 

truthfully, you’ve been ignoring him all week. after that little stunt he pulled on monday, after you finished your food you lied and told everyone you had to get ready for your next class. it wasn’t a full lie since you did have a class, but it wasn't for another hour and a half. You just couldn't bear being at that table, and being around him. he texted you once you left to ask if you were alright, and you just gave him a simple ‘im fine’. he texted you again on tuesday, and then yesterday but you ignored them.  You probably should respond, before he starts asking sky or sullyoon about you. and it would probably be a good idea to stop avoiding antons friends as well when you pass by them on campus. it wouldn’t be a good look for you or for anton, and you don't want to come off as rude to anyone

as you were packing some clothes along with your basic necessities to go to your moms house, your phone starts to ring. You walk over to where you set it to look at who was calling, and of course it was the person you were thinking about. You thought about declining it, but you decided to answer. 

“What do you want, anton.” your voice was monotone and feigning annoyance, not really in the mood to talk to him. 

“Um, are you doing anything right now?” he sounds nervous, and you decide maybe you should relax and talk to him calmly. 

You might be upset with him right now, but you can’t be mean to him even if you tried. he was always sweet to you, so it wouldn’t be fair to talk to him like that if he wasn’t going to talk back. 

“i’m just packing up some stuff to go to my moms. you’re going too, right? she wants to have a dinner or something, with us and your parents” 

“yeah, that's why i called. im actually here to pick you up, it would be better if we showed up together than separately” he chuckles nervously and you hum in response. 

“oh! okay well… i should hurry up then. i'll be outside in a few minutes.” you say quickly, and he lets out a soft ‘okay’ before ending the call. You shove everything into your little bag, not needing a lot since you already had things at your moms and you were only going to be there for the weekend. saying bye to sky, you put your shoes on and walk out to meet with anton outside. 

once you push through the front doors of your apartment building, you see anton leaning on the door of his car while he waits for you. he sees you, and hurries to catch you and help you with your bag. it wasn't even a heavy bag, but the gesture was nice. and of course he’s opening the door to the passengers seat for you, making sure you’re fully seated before closing the door and making his way into the driver's seat.

he’s putting his seatbelt on when you decide to break the silence. “sorry for ignoring you all week. i was just kind of shaken by everything that happened monday” your voice is soft, playing with your fingers while you talk.

he doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and you start to wonder if he was mad at you. You couldn’t blame him, you would be mad if someone ignored you for a week too. 

“it’s fine, i figured you wanted some space. i’m sorry i told sohee that we were dating, i kind of panicked and i didnt know how else to get him to leave us alone. and i didnt think he would go and tell everyone, so i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, anton. i can't really be mad at you, because i don't even know if i would have said anything better than you did. it just caught me off guard” you’re looking at him now, shifting in the seat a bit so you weren't turning your neck too much. he looks at you and smiles softly, going back to looking at the road. 

a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as he drove, the dreaded talk about monday relieving the awkward tension in the vehicle. as he turns into the neighborhood, you sigh knowing what's going to unfold once you step foot through the front door of your mothers house.

With the combination of your mom and antons mom being crazy about you two being together, you were glad that his dad was the only normal one. he was completely fine with you two just being good friends and you were so grateful for that. often, he would have to be the peacemaker in the room telling mrs.lee and your mom to calm down and let you two be.  

“i think we should make some… ground rules for this whole thing. for now and for back on campus.” you state as he pulls into the driveway, and once he parks the car he shifts so he can face you. 

“i agree, anything you have in mind?” 

You two come up with some standard rules, some things are a hard no and some are subject to change. 

rule #1- don't let anyone know its a fake relationship: it would be embarrassing if anyone knew that rule #2- keep it believable, but nothing extreme rule #3- adding onto number 2, keep the pda and flirting to a safe minimum, and no kissing rule #4- no dating/flirting with other people: fake or not, if people think you’re in a relationship do not try to get into another one.  rule #5- anton owes you food for 3 months for putting you into this situation. its only fair! rule #6- the most important, do not catch feelings. You guys were just friends! two friends, pretending to date in front of your family and friends. it was all pretend though, no feelings were actually involved, right?

dinner went well, sitting next to anton while the adults talked about their own things and occasionally asking questions to the both of you. luckily not a lot of relationship topics were brought up. You two were able to have your own conversations throughout dinner, which reminded you of the dinners you all would have throughout your childhood. 

once everyone was finished eating, anton helped your mother in the kitchen while you sat in the living room with his parents. 

“y/n, i am so happy that you and anton are finally a couple! i feel like i’ve been waiting for this all my life” mrs.lee cheers, and you smile along with her. “isn't he just the sweetest boy?”

“he’s very sweet, probably the sweetest i’ve been with” you tell her and she's cheesing so hard. honestly, making the relationship believable wasn't going to be hard around mrs.lee and your mom, because you have no complaints about anton. he truly was the sweetest boy. even if you two weren’t really dating, he was respectful and very gentlemanly.

“We have his father to thank for that,” mrs.lee nudges at her husband, and he just gives a small chuckle at the comment.

“ i always taught him to be respectful. but truthfully the reason he’s so sweet to y/n is because he likes you” mr.lee starts, and you have to remember to not reject his words since you were trying to keep up an act here. 

all you could do was let out an awkward laugh, not sure what to say to add onto the conversation. “maybe, but he’s sweet to everyone” you try to act humble, and mr.lee gives you a look that tells you that you were wrong.

“he may be nice to everyone, but i don't think you realize just how differently he treats you than anyone else. even when you two were younger and friends, he was always the nicest to you. and don't tell him i told you this, but he had a little crush on you back in middle and highschool.” he whispers the last part, and you feel your heart drop to your feet. 

“h-he did? i had no idea…” words coming out soft now, you drop your head to stop the blood from rushing into your face. 

“he would always come home and tell us about something you did that day. he got over it after a while, but i bet he’s so happy that you two are finally together!” mrs.lee swoons, and you suddenly feel lightheaded. 

this is all too much. anton used to like you? how come he never said anything? You excused yourself from his parents, and made your way to the kitchen. 

“hey mom, i’m a little tired so im gonna head upstairs.” You walk in to her drying and putting away dishes, while anton washes them. he looks over you, noticing the tone in your voice along with the look on your face wasn’t because of fatigue, but that something was wrong. 

“okay baby, let me know if you need anything.” she walks to the end of the kitchen island where you were standing, giving you a hug goodnight. “anton, why don't you go with y/n upstairs? it's getting late, and i can finish up in the kitchen.” she turns from you to look at the boy scrubbing away at a pot, and he stops dead in his tracks at her words. 

“i was just going to head back with my parents once we finished,” he starts, looking at your mom and then at you, not wanting to intrude. he did want to talk to you, but he didn’t want to be in your space if you didn't want him there. 

“don't be silly, anton! You two are a couple and are old enough now, i don't have to separate you two” she laughs, and you and anton just stare at each other awkwardly. You were going to tell her to let it go, but because of the unique situation you two were in it was probably the best idea to follow your moms orders. You motion for him to follow you, you both saying goodnight to your mom and then to his parents. You’re walking towards the stairs to go to your room, when anton tells you that he’ll be back to get his bag out of his car.

While he grabs his things, you make your way up to your room. You leave the door open, just in case anton doesn't remember which room was yours. Walking to your window, you open it and stick your head out so you can get some fresh air.

What a night, you’re thinking to yourself. You need to calm down. With what happened on monday and what antons parents were telling you earlier, you were just too in your head. too much was happening too fast. Why was this affecting you so much? and with that you hear footsteps coming into your room and then a door closing.

“are you alright? You looked a little flushed downstairs” the soft voice calls to you, and you know that its anton. 

You take a deep breath before turning to face him. “i'm fine. i am now, at least. i just kind of felt bad for lying right in my mom and your parents' faces. i had to get away from them” your voice is low while you speak, looking to the floor once again to avoid his eyes. he takes note of your body language, seeing that you’re a bit tense and awkward now but he doesn’t want to pry. 

“if you want i can sleep on the floor,” he’s placing his bag on the chair by your desk, grabbing something to change into for bed. 

“no, that's too uncomfortable. You can sleep on the bed” you say it in a way where its clear there's no room for debate, and he nods. 

anton would never admit it to you, but he found you severely intimidating. even when you two were younger, he was always intimidated by you. You carried yourself well, you didn’t take bullshit from anyone, always got your way, and you were stubborn. he was surprised your personalities didn't clash, he felt like you wouldn't want to be friends with someone like him. but truthfully that's what brought you two together. it was like fire and ice, you were the fire and he was the ice to cool you down.

but with being the ice, he was too scared to touch you in fear that he would melt. 

another week passes by, and you feel like you were going insane. You don't know what it is, but every time you see anton, your heart starts racing, your face heats up along with the rest of your body. 

When he holds your hand or rests his hand on your thigh when you two were out with friends, you had to keep your composure to the best of your ability. especially when he would subconsciously  graze his thumb across the back of your hand, the action small and going unnoticed to the naked eye, but feeling too intimate for you and you would pull your hand away. 

the days that he would come over to your apartment or you would go to his dorm to hang out after classes, you found yourself feeling nervous. especially when you two were at your place, seeing him in your room and in your bed had you feeling like jelly. sometimes he would fall asleep before you, and you wouldn’t wake him up. it would be late, and you would feel bad for waking him up and making him go back to his dorm. You were comfortable enough around him anyways to tell him to move, and he never slept too close to you throughout those nights. a deep part of you wished he did, though. but you don't want to think about crossing that path yet. 

a few more days passed, and on wednesday, you went with him to his swim practice so you two could go back to your apartment and order takeout once he was finished. You brought a book with you since you didn’t know much about swimming, and you wanted to keep yourself occupied while you waited. 

an hour of practice goes by and lets just say, not a single page of the book you brought with you was read. not like you would be able to focus on reading anyways, seeing how he swam in the water was a lot more entertaining than you thought. along with how he looked when he pushed himself out of the water, full body on display. his broad shoulders, his toned arms and stomach, the droplets of water dripping from his hair down his back, the way he throws his head back to move his hair out of his face-

Wait a damn minute.

You needed to leave, feeling hot suddenly. Were you really sitting here thirsting over anton? of course, you always found him attractive. You would be silly if you didn't. but you never had any thoughts about him. and you don't want right now, in the campus pool, to be where you start. You walk down the bleachers, trying to think of an excuse of why you’re leaving the building.

“y/n? are you leaving?” anton catches you before you could find him, you turn around to see him speed walking towards you and you almost let out a giggle seeing he hasn't taken his goggles off.

“it’s just kind of humid in here. i'm gonna sit outside until you finish, okay?” you clutch your bag a bit tighter, him standing wet and shirtless in front of you is making you nervous. he’s peering down at you, smiling lightly before he lets you know he’ll be out in around 30 minutes. 

You nearly trip on your way out, feeling refreshed once you finally escape the pool room air. You take your phone out of your pocket, debating on texting sky. she didn’t know that you and antons relationship was all a facade, so what exactly could you tell her? should you just tell her the truth? You couldn't do that, that would be breaking the rules. and who knows what she would do if she found out. You had to mask it with something else in order to get your feelings off your chest.

You: sky You: sky pls You: i'm going insane sky: what what what You: okay so… yk me and anton sky: i’m aware You: well we’ve been together for about two weeks and some days You: and there's been some tension You: that wasn't there before sky: like sexual?  sky: you havent fucked that boy yet? You: omfg You: no! we haven't gotten there yet… sky: so ur telling me, you've been dating a fine ass man… sky: and you havent fucked him… for what reason? sky: better than me y/n… i would have been jumped his bones You: sky you are so unserious You: but help me out here! do i tell him? or do i just go for it sky: i say talk to him first because what if he isn't ready You: ur so right sky ily sky: lyt babes ;)

Using sex fantasies as a mask for your feelings was definitely a choice, but it helped you out regardless. of course, now you have more things to think about. did you really want to date anton? You told yourself you didn't before, but now you weren't so sure. he was the full package, everything you could ask for in a guy. so there was really nothing stopping you. but you two were friends. 

he also used to like you back in grade school. key word: used to. What if he completely got over you and wouldn’t even think about dating you now? this was a tough situation, and you don't know how much longer you could keep this up with repressed feelings. 

after 10 more minutes of overthinking, you can feel a presence behind you so you quickly turn your body to see anton right behind you. 

“You ready?” he’s looking down at you again, hair slightly covering his eyes because of the beanie he wore. his body once again covered up by the baggy hoodie along with the black sweatpants he wore. You would never be able to guess how built he really was under the clothes he chose to wear.

You realize you might be staring a little too hard for a little too long so you give him a nod. “Yeah, let's go” and he’s taking you by the hand while you follow him to his car.

 he drives you two to the nearest food place you guys could agree on. You two agree on getting wings for tonight, and then make your way to your apartment. once you enter, you see sky sitting in the living room. she gives you a look only you two would be able to understand, with anton right behind you.

sky greets you two, and anton greets her back while you take off your shoes and then make your way into the kitchen. You grab two sodas, and walk out to where anton was standing. he was usually a bit awkward around your apartment if you weren’t telling him where to go, too scared that he would touch something he shouldn’t. 

following you to your room with the food, anton shuts the door softly behind him. the boy was already in comfortable clothes, taking a shower before he left the locker rooms after practice and made sure that he brought something he wouldn't be uncomfortable in. You were still wearing a pair of jeans and a cute crop top under a zip up hoodie. 

“i'm gonna change in the bathroom, you can pull the food out and put something on the tv,” you tell the boy sitting on your bed, and he hums in response while you leave the room. Walking over to the bathroom down the hall, you take this time to relax yourself. 

You quickly change into a pair of sweats and an old tshirt, and you walk further down the hall to the living room to quickly talk to sky. 

“are you fucking him tonight? let me know so i can put in my headpho- ow!” you pinched her arm before she could finish her sentence.  

“i am not fucking him! i just came out here to tell you that i'm gonna talk to him about it”

“okay, but if there's a change of plans let me know!”

truthfully you were going to tell him about your feelings, just not tonight. maybe friday, you got invited to a party that sohee was throwing at his frat and you know that anton will be there too.

You walk back into your room now, seeing the food laid out and a movie ready for you as you get situated next to anton on your bed. he put on some action movie, which was a genre you both equally enjoyed. being around anton was comfortable. You two were able to sit in silence, laugh, and talk without any judgments. 

this could either end really good or really, really bad.

it was friday. the day you would tell anton about your feelings. Was it a good idea to tell him at a party? probably not, but the influence of alcohol might help you build up the much needed courage. What could possibly go wrong though, right? the worst he could say is no, and you two could just go back to being friends and drop the fake dating act. 

You put on your best party dress, it was black and had the right amount of cleavage and rode up just enough for it to not be too skimpy. knowing how crazy sohee’s parties get, you wanted to make sure that you were dressed for the occasion along with getting antons attention. 

sky calls you over, letting you know she’s ready to go. You ride in her car to the party, she’s known as the designated driver for you and your friends since she was the only one who didn't like to drink. What would you do without her?

right as you walk into the house, seunghan is at the door handing you a shot glass. You down it without question, making a face at the liquid burning down your throat. You would love to get absolutely shitfaced right now, but you want to find anton. You’re pushing through the crowd of people before you see him, he’s standing close to the patio window, red solo cup in hand while he talks to sohee and some other guys you’re not familiar with. 

“hey anton,” you look at him happily, and he doesn’t even glance at you while he continues his conversation. Weird, he’s never blatantly ignored you like that, but maybe he thought you were someone else. You call him again and he finally looks at you. he glances at your outfit and then back to your face, little to no reaction to your presence.

“hi y/n” he looks at you with a look you can’t quite decipher, and you feel a slight tinge of pain in your chest at this. why was he suddenly so emotionless around you? was he drunk? “can i talk to you, it'll be quick?” he says loud enough for just you to hear, and he excuses himself from his friends while he leads you to a quiet, dimly lit hallway.

“What's up?”

and that's when he lays it on you. 

“i think that we should end this.”

You nearly drop to your knees when you hear those words come out of his mouth. “huh?” is all you could muster up, playing it off as you couldn't hear him due to the party.

“this whole fake dating thing, i think we should end it. We’re just friends, right? not like we have feelings for each other or anything… and it’s just too much work and pressure to keep up with a fake relationship” he’s not looking at you now, and all you can do is stand there in shock.

it takes a minute for your brain to start working again, finally able to process your own thoughts and words.

“right. You’re right. i guess it’s for the best if we end it. i’ll um, i’ll see you around” and you’re walking away so fast anton didn't have a chance to say anything else and to stop yourself from crying in front of everyone at this party. You quickly find sky, interrupting her flirt session with wonbin to tell her you guys need to go. she’s holding your hand tight through the crowd and out the door, and once you’re in her car you’re letting it all out. the sobs are uncontrollable now, everything you held in 3 minutes ago just coming out.

You tell sky everything on the way home, feeling like there was no reason to keep anything a secret anymore. “that asshole! i’ll kill him, i really will” sky is heated now,  she couldn’t stand seeing you like this and she couldn’t stand knowing who made you like this. 

“he’s never talked to me like that. even when he’s annoyed at me! he’s never looked at me with absolutely no emotion… i don't understand what happened” you start to think out loud once you two are inside your apartment, tears dried and the confusion settling in. you’re pacing around the living room and you feel your phone vibrate in your purse. You pull it out to see anton calling you, and you press decline. 

Whatever he has to say, you don't want to hear it. You should have known not to say anything. maybe if you had just waited until tomorrow. but if he wanted to end things, what would he have done if you confessed?

sky's phone was ringing now, she picks it up and is nearly yelling into her phone the second she presses answer. 

“hello?... Yes, we’re fine. What the fuck is up with anton, man?…okay… i don't think that's going to happen for a while… okay bye.” she sets her phone down, and her eyes soften as she watches you continue to pace the living room. “that was wonbin on the phone, he said anton was a little drunk and he wants to talk to you when you can. they’re trying to sober him up now because he started drinking more after we left. What an idiot,” she’s next to you now, rubbing circles on your back while you stare at the wall. 

Yeah, what an idiot. the both of you were idiots, it seems.

another week goes by, and you’ve completely shut everyone out. You ignore texts, you skip classes, you don't even leave the apartment to get food. thank goodness for doordash. 

You check your phone, looking at all of the missed calls and messages from the people worried about you. one name sticks out the most, but that's the one name you don't want to talk to right now. avoiding him like he was the plague, along with any of his friends to make sure that he doesn’t hear about you.  

Unknown information to you, but sky was out. she was out with the enemy, to be more specific. she had seen anton in the courtyard with wonbin and seunghan, and she made a beeline for the boy. he noticed her almost instantly, preparing for a well deserved lashing or maybe even a slap to the face, but she grabbed him by his forearm and dragged him to a quiet side of the courtyard where she could talk freely.

“You really fucked up, anton.” she's speaking softly. “she hasnt left her room in 5 days. i don't know what to do to get her out.” 

“i’ve tried texting and calling her every day, but she doesn't respond.” his voice quieter than usual as he tries to explain himself.

“well can you blame her? you shut her feelings down before she could even get them out!” she’s quick to your defense, which was one of the reasons you loved sky. she always had your back.

“i… it's not like i don't have feelings for her, because shit, i’ve liked that girl since we were 13. but i didn't know that she felt the same way and i was too scared to ruin our friendship” he wanted to cry, ruining something that he wanted so badly with his own thoughts. 

he knew that the fake dating would resurface old feelings, but along with the feelings came the other emotions that come with liking you. he was nervous around you, he was too scared that you wouldn’t like him back and that you were only doing this because he put you in this situation. Which was another reason he was too nervous to confess, because this relationship was fake. You two were friends who were just pretending to date. and neither of you were getting anything out of it, so why would you develop romantic feelings for him? he didn't think you liked him, and to protect his heart he had to let you go. but the moment he saw your face drop at that party with tears threatening to fall, he knew he made a mistake. he never wanted to see you make that face again, especially not if it was caused by him. 

“You could have maybe asked her how she felt about you two before you just acted on a made up scenario in your head? like do you even think before you say things…”  her voice is filled with confusion and annoyance, not understanding how someone could sabotage their own relationships the way he was. and you’re her best friend, so she felt obligated to get some answers for you. 

“i was in panic mode! i couldn’t handle being her fake boyfriend anymore when i wanted to be with her for real. do you think she’ll hear me out?” if he had to get on his knees and beg you to give him another chance, he would. he couldn't bear not being with you, and he felt like he’d rather crawl into a corner and die than living his life without you again. 

“i don't know, she’s doing everything in her power to avoid you right now. but you better fix this mess or i'll have your head on a stick” she smiles at the end of her threat, reaching to pat anton on the head before walking way. 

he was going to make things right. 

With a deep breath, anton is knocking on your front door. You were eating some leftovers from some food you ordered the day before, not bothering to order food today. sky must have forgotten her keys again, you think as you walk over to the front door. 

“sky you can't keep forgetting your ke- oh.” the one person you dreaded seeing is standing at your door with a bouquet of flowers, and a bag of your favorite candy. if you weren't so upset right now, you probably would have swooned over him coming over unannounced. 

“can we talk?” he takes in your appearance, you were wearing a hoodie along with a pair of shorts and slippers. You wouldn't say you looked a mess, but you would have put yourself together a bit more if you had known that anyone other than sky would see you today. his eyes are soft, filled with hope that you’ll let him in.

“i don't really want to talk to you right now” your face is blank, not wanting to show any sort of emotions. You could honestly cry, but you had to stay strong for yourself. 

“please? it's really important,” it almost comes out as a plea, and you nearly drop the cold act. seeing him at your door like this, maybe you should let him in? not that you wanted to hear whatever he has to say, but he came all this way. 

“fine, but make it quick” grabbing the flowers and candy from him, you let him in and you go to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. he sits on the end of your couch, and he's tapping his fingers on his knees while he waits for you to walk into the living room. 

When you’re seated on the other end of the couch, you peer your head over to look at anton, who was almost visibly shaking from nervousness. 

“okay, what do you want?” the cold act is back, wanting to hear him out before you fold. the gesture of him coming with flowers kind of gave away what was coming from him, but you didn't want to get excited too fast. he hurt your feelings last week, and you weren’t going to let it run past you that easily just because he came to you pleading with flowers. You could, and hell you definitely wanted to, but you were stronger than that. 

something about anton made you so weak. normally a strong stubborn person, melting and giving in to whatever he says. You don't know how he could have this effect on you, no one else is able to make you putty in their hands the way anton does. but you can't let him know that. not now, at least.

“i need to apologize for everything. not just for last week, but for putting you into this situation in the first place. when this all started, our moms setting us up like that, i didnt think much of it. but then hanging out with you that day brought back so many memories and i didnt want to stray away from you again. so i lied to my mom, and then i brought up the fake dating idea to you. You probably never knew this, but i’ve had a crush on you since we were in middle school. it went away in junior year when we stopped talking, because you had gotten a boyfriend and i was so upset that you were with someone else. i was too scared to confess to you then, and even now i'm terrified. talking to you again resurfaced all of my old feelings for you and i thought that us being in a fake relationship would bring us closer together. and then i panicked, because i thought you wouldn't like me back. We were getting so close and i was too scared of rejection, i couldn’t tell if you had any feelings for me in that way, so i thought ending it now would stop me from getting hurt” he pauses, and you take in everything he’s saying. 

tears that you tried to fight back were falling, you couldn't stop them while you listened to every word the boy beside you said knowing that he was being completely genuine. You could barely look at him, seeing that he looked like he was fighting back tears himself. 

“and seeing you at the party, i was planning on talking to you after the party but you looked so pretty i knew i wouldn't be able to stick by your side as a fake boyfriend when all i wanted was to be your real boyfriend. i didn't mean to hurt you, seriously. it nearly killed me when i saw you look at me so heartbroken. i never want to make you upset like that again.“ he was crying too now, and somehow the two of you were no longer on either side of the couch but right in the middle. not touching, but close enough to feel each other's presence. after a minute of calming yourself down, you try to find the right words to say to the boy next to you.

“You’re an idiot, lee anton” is all you could muster up, almost laughing. You sniffle, and you look at anton while he still has his head down. “You’re really an idiot, because how could i not like you back? i’ve never been around a guy as sweet as you, and i might not have seen it a couple years ago but i see it now. Y’know, the other weekend when we were at my moms and you were helping clean up… your parents had told me about your old crush on me. that’s why i was so shaken up, because i was starting to realize my own feelings for you.” he’s finally looking at you now, tears wiped away and an almost smile on his face. 

“they told you about that? i wanted to be the one to tell you” his face was a bright red from embarrassment, his parents exposing his past crush on you was not something he would expect from them. And the fact that you weren’t repulsed by his old crush caught him off guard. Of course, you have feelings for him now, but knowing that he liked you when you two were cringey teenagers? You should be laughing at him and calling him crazy. 

“ after all the times i friendzoned you during that time? i don't know how you did it. i guess i deserved the rejection last friday as a payback from all the times i shut you down.” humoring the situation was the best thing you could do to ease the tension in the room, and you both chuckle softly at your comment. 

he takes your hand into his, shifting his body so hes completely facing you, and you look down at your hands before looking back at his face. he was back to looking serious, with those soft pleading eyes burning into yours. 

“y/n, i want you to know that i like you. i like you so much, it physically hurts. i never want to be away from you, and i never want to hurt you. and i want us to be together, for real this time.  no bullshit, no rules, no more confusion. You’re the most amazing girl in the world and i can't imagine living a life without you in it. if you’ll let me, can i be your boyfriend?” you want to cry again, this was the cutest confession you’ve ever heard. You take a little bit too long to respond and his mouth is slowly turning into a frown, thinking he's about to be rejected.

“Yes, anton. You can be my boyfriend” you squeeze his hand and now he’s tearing up again. he feels like the happiest person on the planet, finally getting to be with you in the way he wanted. Happy tears stream down your face, and you pull anton into a hug, holding him tightly. He holds you just as tight, breath hitting your neck as he breathes in the scent of your neck. 

“We need to go out and celebrate! I wanna take you out, on a real date, and then we can tell everyone that we’re officially together, and-”  He had pulled out of your hug so he could list off everything he wanted to do with you, and you had to put your hands on his shoulders to keep him grounded. Even though you love his rambling, his words were coming out quicker than his thoughts and you had to calm him down.

“Woah, let's just hang out tonight? We can go out tomorrow. And we should wait to tell everyone, sky probably still wants to rip your head off and we don't need sohee or anyone else talking” he nods, and he’s still smiling from ear to ear while he looks at you.  

“You’re right, i'm just so happy.”  he has his hands on your knees now, and his eyes go from where his hands lay, your lips, and your eyes. You trail your eyes to his lips and to his neck, then back at his lips. It was like you both wanted the same thing, but both were too shy to say something. Subconsciously you were slowly closing the gap, his body leaning into yours as well. Noses almost touching, you look into his eyes and give his shoulder a small squeeze to motion him to make a move. 

“Can i kiss you?” you can feel the words leaving his lips on your own, and a small desperate please leaves you before the gap is finally closed and his lips are on yours. It was a soft kiss, the both of you getting used to each other. His lips were so soft, and they molded perfectly with yours. You felt his tongue swipe your bottom lip, and you let him into your mouth while you kissed him harder. His hands that were on your knees have moved, one hand resting on your hip while the other made it up your body and cupping the back of your neck to keep you on him. Your hands also snake into his hair, playing with the strands while you two softly make out. 

Anton felt like he was in heaven. Kissing you was a dream come true, and it topped anything he could ever imagine. He kissed you softly but full of desperation, like you were going to vanish out of thin air. His grip on your waist got tighter, slightly pulling your body into his and you gasped into his mouth. Pulling away, you look at how dazed anton was. he’s breathing hard, lips swollen and hair disheveled. You didn’t mean to work him up so much from just kissing you, but you can't deny that you weren’t a little worked up yourself. Kissing him was like something you’ve never felt before. A kiss filled with love and desperation was something you haven’t felt before, and it was something you hope you never get used to. You want to kiss him like that every time, all the time.   

“Do you want to go to my room?” you breathe out, and he nods his head happily. You stand up, grabbing his hand to bring you to his room. 

Your body was heating up, feeling slightly nervous. He’s been in your room before, but as your boyfriend? It was like something in the air shifted. A new tension filled the room once you two stepped inside your room, you closed the door softly before antons hands were on you and pressing your body to the door. You gasp at his sudden control, looking up at him and you see how dark his eyes have gotten. With one hand on your waist and one on the back of your neck, he pulls you in for another kiss. It wasn’t soft like before but still filled with desperation, like he was starved of your lips. Your hands move to his hair and onto his bicep, gripping his arm to hold yourself up while he kisses you eagerly. 

He’s strong enough to keep you up himself, but you feel like if you don't hold tightly to him you would melt. The hand on your waist pulls you into him some more, and he’s moving you both from the door to your bed. It was a bit of a struggle getting there, neither of you pulling away to see where you were going. Stumbling on each other's feet, you finally make it to the bed. Only pulling away so he could let you down softly, and you move back to the end of the bed before he’s climbing on top of you. Slotting his own legs between yours, his lips are attaching to your neck and you move your head to the side so he has better access. 

You can't ignore the way his thigh is right on your core, not moving but you feel the heat between your legs with how he’s sucking and biting little marks on your neck. His hands rest on your waist under the hoodie you wore, and you lift them just slightly to get a tiny bit of friction going. With every gasp and whimper you let out, it goes through his ears and straight to his dick. 

Anton feels you moving, and your own leg that was between his was just right below his growing hard on. He shifts so both his legs are between yours, pressing his core into yours and you let out a moan at the pressure. 

You pull at his hair, taking your other hand to run it down his chest and down to his stomach. When your hands stop by his waist,tugging at his shirt indicating that you want it off. “Anton, take your shirt off” you groan out, noticing how he’s too lost in you to notice. 

He quickly pulls away, lips and hands leaving your body. You almost felt cold, not having his body heat on you for those quick seconds. He’s sitting up so he can remove his shirt and you stare him down intently as you watch his muscles flex. Biting your lip, you run your hand down his bare chest, taking in the body above you. 

“Can i take this off you?” he’s tugging on your hoodie now, and you nod before he helps you sit up slightly to remove the clothing off you before laying you back down. He gasps when he realizes you didn’t have a bra on this whole time, and he instantly attaches his hands to your breasts and gives them a squeeze. You would think this was his first time seeing a woman naked the way he gawks at you, but he’s just so in awe of how beautiful you were. 

Leaning back down, his lips are back on yours. It's hot and messy, you can barely breathe the way he touches you. His kisses are trailing back down to your neck, and then his lips find your nipple. You whimper feeling his tongue flick the sensitive bud, one hand tweaking the other. His other hand makes its way down to the hem of your shorts, slightly dipping into your shorts but not enough. Like he was waiting for you to tell him what to do, he left his fingers right there even if you rutted your hips into his hand as a way to get him to touch you. He still wasn't letting up, and you knew that he really wasn't going to touch you unless you told him.

“Anton,” you whine, and he takes his lips off your nipple. His breath on the bud making you shiver, and you whine out again.  

“What's wrong, baby?” You couldn’t tell if his voice was laced with fake or genuine concern, and it was killing you. You were probably fully soaked through your panties and shorts, the ache between your thighs getting almost unbearable. 

“Want you to touch me” a whine slips past your lips, and you move the hand that was on his chest over where his own rests under the hem of your shorts. 

“Yeah?” he teases, finally putting his hand fully down your pants to rub you through your panties. You let out an eager mhm along with a fast nod, his fingers lightly grazing over your clit. You try to lift your hips up, but he takes his free hand to hold your hips down. “Gonna take my time with you, baby” 

Moaning at his words, you moan again when his fingers finally slip past your panties and run through your slit. Collecting your arousal on his fingers, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re so wet,”

“Stop teasing, ton. Need you” you swirl your hips around his fingers, trying to get him to use them. He might be putty in your hands outside the bedroom, but it was the complete opposite right now. He likes seeing you like this. Weak under him, begging for some type of release. He finally obliges, his thumb circling your clit softly while he slips two fingers into you. You moan, the ache in your core slowly subsiding. 

He sits up so he can see your reactions fully. Your eyes were fluttering shut, mouth open slightly from the pleasure he was giving you. He moved his fingers a bit faster, and adding a bit more pressure onto your clit which made you moan. Your hand that was on his wrist gripped him tightly. He was making you feel so good, and he looked so good while doing it. With your half open eyes, you could see him focused on your cunt. His eyes were glossed over, looking from his hand that was in your pants, your face, your tits, then back to his hand. 

 He could honestly cum in his pants from the sight. Your breathing was labored and you were clenching on his fingers tighter, and he could tell that you were getting close. You usually last longer, but he made you feel so good it was overwhelming. And with how hot he was, it was hard for you to hold out. 

“Cum for me, y/n. Make a mess on my fingers” His words were so vulgar, but his voice was so soft. With a few more harsh circles to your clit, your back was arched off the bed while your orgasm hit you. Nails digging into antons wrist while he continued thrusting his fingers in you to help you ride out your orgasm. Other hand was in the sheets, grabbing onto whatever your fingers could pick up. 

When your breathing goes back to normal, anton pulls his fingers out of you and out of your pants, taking them into his mouth. It was so messy, and you moan watching him taste you on his fingers. He hums, pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a pop before running his hands down your thighs. 

“You okay?” for a quick minute the soft boyfriend you knew was back, checking to make sure you were okay and if you wanted to continue. You give him a weak nod, eyes struggling to stay open. Your hands are pulling at the hem of his pants now, and he’s stepping off the bed to rid himself of the last of his clothing. 

Through your half hazy gaze, you watch him taking off his pants along with his boxers. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when you see his cock spring out of his pants. Holy shit, he was big. You knew he would be because he was just so big everywhere else, but it still took you by surprise. He gets back on the bed, settling between your legs once again. 

“How do you want me?” you ask him sweetly, and he bites his lip at the question. He hadn’t thought about it, and now he was thinking of all the possibilities of how he could fuck you right now. He placed his hands on your legs, lifting them so they could wrap around his waist.

“Just stay like this,” he leans down so he's a bit closer to your face, but not close enough for you to kiss him. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing was heavy, and you wanted to kiss him so badly. He almost seems nervous. Which would be insane with the way he made you cum just a few minutes ago. You grab him by the back of his neck to pull him to your lips, and you can feel the way he softens in your hold.

 Your other hand snakes its way between the two of you, grabbing onto his cock softly. He tenses up again, a choked moan comes out before he can process the noises coming out of him. You stroke him slowly while he struggles to kiss you back, and you bite his lip as you pull away. 

“Need you now, toni” you whisper on his lips, and you look into his eyes before he’s sitting up once again. He groans while he pumps himself a few more times, and then he’s pressing his tip into you. 

The both of you let out a moan while he’s pushing himself into you, and you bring both arms up to wrap around his forearms. It takes a minute before he's fully sheathed into you, and when he  is you feel so full. 

“let me know if it's too much, okay?” His hands grip your waist, and all you nod in response.

“Dont worry. I can take it.” you say confidently and he gives you a sly look before he pulls out almost completely, and then thrusts back in with a slow but deep thrust. He hisses, your pussy clenching around him so tightly. One of his hands moves from your waist up your chest, stopping at your breasts to play with one of your nipples while he finds his rhythm inside of you. The stimulation in both areas makes you cry out, your grip on antons arm getting impossibly tighter.  

He was still processing the fact that you were under him. It was an unreal situation. Never did he think he’d be able to get the girl he’s always wanted. never did he think he would be in her room. Never did he think he would be having sex with her. 

His pace picks up, your body jerking forward with each thrust. You could barely keep your eyes open, but the view in front of you was too good to miss. The way the muscles in his arms flexed when he drove his hips into yours, and you could see how his stomach contracted with each thrust. His eyes were focused on where the two of you connected while you stared at him, and your moans got increasingly louder with every touch and with every thrust. 

You bring a hand down to your clit, drawing circles on the sensitive area while he fucked you. He was moaning louder now, soft whimpers leaving him every time you clenched around him. 

“You’re so tight, baby” he’s leaning over you now, moving your hand from your clit and pinning it to your side. He swiftly takes his other hand and places his own fingers on your clit, and you nearly scream, the amount of pressure and speed he adds has your eyes rolling back.

He couldn’t get enough of you. If he put his hands somewhere, it would only be for a few seconds before he was moving them to a different part of your body. The hand he used to pin you down was now grabbing onto your thigh, hiking your leg up so he could put it over his shoulder. 

The new angle had his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that you didn’t know existed, and you bite your lip to stop another scream from coming out. His other hand was still in between your bodies, rubbing your clit with a swiftness. Your hand goes to his chest, subconsciously pushing him from the stimulation. 

“thought you could take it, baby. need me to slow down?” He teases, and his thrusts falter just enough for you to feel it and beg for more. Fingers still on your clit, pushing hard on the bud but not moving them. You could barely think of words to say, but the loss of stimulation was helping you gain consciousness.

“n-no! feelsso good… gna cum” tears swelling up in your eyes, you slur your words trying to tell him that he could keep going. you were so close, and you didn't want his teasing to rip the feeling of your orgasm bubbling going away, so you hoped he would continue the pace and send you over the edge soon.

pushing you into the mattress, he thrusts hard and the tears that glossed over your eyes were now falling down, the pleasure was so overwhelming. with the way he was pressing into you, the way he looked into your eyes with each thrust and you struggled to keep them open, the way his fingers expertly handled your clit while his lips hovered over yours, and the sweet words on how good you felt while you could only whine and babble incoherent words, you were so close to hitting your peak. 

“cum for me baby, i got you” and with that your body almost caves in on itself, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. your legs were shaking and your back would have arched completely off the bed if it weren't for anton above you, still fucking you sensless to help you ride it out. a choked sob leaves your lips, too breathless to let out any moans. it quickly became overstimulating, pushing at whatever body parts your hands could reach. He wasn’t letting up though, chasing his own high now and was lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing him  deliciously.

“toni, s’too much! too much,” you whine, and the boy removes his fingers off your clit to lift himself up. he brings your leg down from his shoulder, and keeps it around his waist with your other leg. he’s still fucking you, and its still a lot but without the abuse to your clit you could tolerate the feeling of his cock fucking into you some more until he cums. His eyes were shut now leaning back down to bury his face into your neck. your hands wrap around him, running your fingers through his hair and leaving gentle tugs which elicit loud moans out of him

“tell me where to cum, baby. where do you want it?” his voice is rushed, and you know you’d have to think fast because he was a ticking time bomb. 

“wherever you want toni,” your hands leave his hair so you could move him from your neck and cup his face, giving him a loving look before pulling him into a heated kiss, teeth clashing and lip biting. you slip your tongue into his mouth, swirling around with his while you two moan into each other. with a few sharp thrusts, he’s cumming inside of you. his hips still for a moment, your pussy milking his cock of every last drop of cum. he lets out a weak whimper, body feeling weak as he fucks his cum into you.

you moan, body feeling warm from his body heat along with the fullness of his cock and his cum inside of you. the both of you let out small groans when he’s pulling out, his body still on top of yours. he gives you a soft kiss to your forehead, and you give him a weak smile. 

 “did so well for me baby. was it okay?” his soft persona was back in full effect now, sitting up so he could help you get cleaned up.

“more than okay, anton” 

he gives you a quick kiss before he’s hopping off the bed and finding his clothes on the floor. he puts his boxers on and his pants, then leaves your room quietly to go to the kitchen. When he turns the corner, he’s met with sky. she has headphones in so she doesn't notice him at first, but once she feels his presence she nearly jumps. then her startled face turns into disgust. 

“you two are fucking nasty. when i told you to fix things between you two, i didn't mean come here and break the sound barrier.” she rolls her eyes, going back to fixing herself a snack.

“sorry,” an awkward chuckle leaves anton, and he quickly grabs a water out of the refrigerator and leaves the kitchen, slightly embarrassed by the confrontation. he makes his way back down the hall to go to your bathroom, and he rinses his face with cold water, still warm from your little activity just a few minutes ago. he runs one of your washcloths under warm water, and then he’s back in your room to clean you up. sitting down in front of you, he wipes you up in the places you were most sweaty, and then wiping your thighs and carefully wiping up the cum that was dripping out of you. you were still sensitive, wincing at the contact. he helps you sit up, and you run a hand through his hair. you reach over the edge of the bed to grab your hoodie off the floor, slipping it back on. suddenly feeling a little too bare in front of anton since he at least had on a pair of pants. 

You admire the boy in front of you. He was the same, but different to you now. a sweet, beautiful boy, who was now all yours. a sweet boy who just fucked you to oblivion. a beautiful boy, who could put up with your attitude. who was weak for you, who would do anything for you. it makes you smile, the most perfect boy liked you and only you. and he was there your whole life, you two just had to figure it out on your own.   

“i ran into sky in the kitchen,” his voice was low as he handed you the water he brought, and your eyes widened in shock that your friend was home. you didn’t think she would be home by this time, usually staying out until nighttime at the library before she came home. 

“oh god, i didn't know she would be home this early. we’re never going to hear the end of this.” you whine, head in your hands. anton laughs, finding your reaction adorable. as embarrassing as it was to have someone hear you from the outside of your bedroom, he didn't have that much shame. the fact that you were loud enough to disturb the peace in the other room filled him with pride. 

“she’ll be okay. this won't be the last time she hears anything come out of this room anyways” he gives you a cheeky grin, and you scoff before slapping his shoulder. who would have thought he would be so dirty?

“don't say that!! we’re gonna have to keep quiet if she’s home,” 

“we’ll see about that. you talk a big game but you crumbled the second i put it in” he’s still grinning at you, saying it with such pride and you slap his arm again, face heating up at his words. now you have two things that you’ll never be able to live down.

“you’re sick, lee anton” you whine, and he just laughs before pulling you into a bear hug and laying the two of you onto the pillows. you two get comfortable fast, your back resting against his chest while his arms rest over your body after he pulls the covers over you two

“you like it though” he nuzzles into your neck, spooning you and rubbing soft circles on your stomach under your hoodie.

“maybe just a little”

while spending the rest of the night cuddling, you think that both of your moms were right about setting you two up. you’re suddenly grateful about that surprise ‘blind’ date, and that your mom was right about giving him a chance. laying with him just felt right. and you hope that you can lay with him forever.

A/N: let me know what you guys think !! i kind of half assed the editing, so i apologize if there's any errors + i know the capitalization is a little wacky throughout the fic. i hope you guys enjoyed this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

💋 nav

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !! — M.LIST

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: one mistaken confession was all it took to have your world stomped to the ground and kicked to the curb. who the fucks confesses to their parent’s friend and neighbor (whos almost 20 years older !?) that they wanna fuck? and now he’s avoided you like the plague because of it. luckily, two years have gone by since then after moving away for college and you’re no longer that naive little girl. but what if you see eachother again? and he’s no longer able to hold back? duh. you’re gonna finish what you started. cause if there’s one thing you’re not, it’s a quitter.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + age gap (reader is 19 and toji is 34) + fem! reader + first time + corruption kink + cunnilingus + loss of virginity + first time blowjob + fingering + morally impure thoughts + size difference + mutual pinning + humor + reader turns her stuffed animals away from the atrocities that are being done on her childhood bed + toji is a pervy man that plays hard to get + you are an insatiable minx that tests his limits everyday + sort of forbidden love? ig + semi slowburn but not rlly its just for the tension + more to be added as it goes along!

‪୨୧‬┊a/n: reader is on her winter bimbo shit. i know its the middle of summer but idc!! the original fic got deleted a long time ago so the first chapter comes out right after this <3 second, follows right after (i know ahh).

‪୨୧‬┊CHAPTERS:

i. ITS BEEN A WHILE

ii. OPERATION: GET THAT D1CK

iii. RESISTING URGES (SPOILER IT FAILED!)

୨ৎ — playlist

୨ৎ — pinterest board

© SUGUCIDAL 2023 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[shadowkoo]

disgraceful dreams

→ Summary: After two years of lustful pining and disgraceful dreams about someone far out of your reach, you decide the only way to move past your hopeless crush on Onyx Academy's star student is by taking part in the Lupercalia festival for the very first time.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader (feat. yeosang) | 16.4k words | 18+ ↠ genre: witch/warlock au, smut, virgin!reader, inspired by s2e3 of caos, slowburn

→ Full Fic Warnings: little bit of social class discrimination, cult-ish behavior (mentions of blood, Y/N uses a knife to cut her hand for binding/ritual purposes), being ‘hunted’ like prey, explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, praise kink, biting, nipple play, breast play, begging, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, partial agoraphilia & semi-public sex, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, deep dicking, size kink (wooyoung is HUNGGG), magical sex, fucking up against a tree, slight age gap (y/n is 20 and wooyoung is 25), slight corruption, choking, possessive!wooyoung, woo is ravenous for you (you’re welcome)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @pirateeznet @cromernet

@illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @cultofdionysusnet

→ Author Note: edited by the lovely aeris @beomcoups whom i appreciate so SO much for tackling this beast of a fic ILY! And also to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for reading this over for me!!! this doesn’t follow the exact lupercalia process, i’ve twisted it to work for my fic and based it around halloween instead of valenbarf day lol, if you'd prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here!! all likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated <3

‘This can’t be real.’

Jung Wooyoung casts a dark look upon you while taking in your ethereal, naked form before him. The flames of the common room’s fireplace dance in his eyes, reflecting his sinister and most impure thoughts. Thoughts of you, what he wants to do to you. With you.

‘I must be dreaming.’

He circles around you, hovering over your backside and letting his hands fall to your bare hips. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

“Mmm, can I touch you?” Wooyoung whispers as he leans in to kiss the dip between your shoulder and neck.

You nod, giving him permission to do whatever he pleases, and lean back against his broad chest.

His hands move from your side, one moving upward to cup your breast, the other heading down between your legs, gently tracing your silky skin until his fingers find their way home and sink into your sweet center.

The sensation awakens you from your sinful slumber, and you sigh, realizing it was only a dream—another delicious and depriving dream that left you wanting someone who would never consider you.

Groaning, you force yourself to roll out of bed and step toward your closet. Black Mass isn’t for another hour, but arriving early might help erase these recurring dreams from your memory.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hall as you exit the residential wing, making your way outside. It’s a beautiful gloomy day, the air is crisp and the sun is hidden by thick clouds that look as if they could open up at any moment and soak the woods with another harsh day of rain - something you wouldn’t mind.

The fog creeps through the forest, following your steps and trailing behind while you wait for your familiar to catch up. Besides your raven’s distant cry, it’s quiet. The hum of the earth’s magic is even more reserved than usual. It’s peacefully eerie.

“Ghoul Morning, Blair,” you say, extending your wrist out for her. She caws from above and slowly descends from the clouds, eagerly accepting your arm as the safe place to perch while you walk along the path to the Unholy Church.

Though she looks like a raven while masked, Blair wreaks havoc in her goblin form on anyone, and anything, that dares to disturb you. She’s one of the strongest familiars a witch could be cursed with, and you’ve been thankful for her services ever since you started training.

It’s your second year attending The Onyx Academy of Dark Casting, a magical finishing school that only the finest witches and warlocks between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five are given the unholiest privilege to attend.

Of these students, the Dark Stars of each class lead with their high values and spectacular spell casting. More often than not, they graduate with the highest dishonor and ascend to become High Priests and Priestesses of covens across the world.

Jung Wooyoung is a beloved Dark Star and stellar student, and it’s rumored that he’ll become the youngest Anti-Pope inducted into the Church of Night after his completion here at the academy.

Even with your unique gift, it’s not in the cards for a person of your status to ever equal his. Which you very well know and understand, despite the dark fantasies that haunt you most nights and your schoolgirl crush that hasn’t gone away since the very first day you met him.

Blair lets out a sharp caw, her wings cutting through the air as she ascends, perching gracefully on the steeple just as you arrive at the church. Her dark silhouette stands stark against the sky, watching over you like a silent sentinel.

The towering doors creak open as you approach them, welcoming you inside the dim space. You walk between the rows of pews, watching the candles that mark the aisle light up as you pass.

Once closer to the altar, you lift a hand and wave it across the front of the sanctuary. The room becomes brighter as the remaining unlit candles grow flames from your magic.

You have a way with the elements; you’re able to manipulate and control them as you wish without specific spells, conjuring them when you please. Your energy is unmatched compared to the other gifted students.

Yet, instead of improving your social status, being gifted has made you even more of an outcast. The professors are wary of your potential and what you could be capable of; the students keep their distance too, either jealous or frightened of your power.

Needless to say, you’re not Miss Popular, but that doesn’t bother you as much as it could. Only the luckiest of witches and warlocks are disgraced with gifts from the Dark Lord, and having chosen you out of everyone means something. And knowing the Dark Lord chose you is enough.

You settle into your usual pew, the familiar creak of the wooden bench under you blending into the background as your mind begins to churn. Thoughts swirl of today’s impending announcement during Father Blackmoor’s sermon cross your mind.

The excitement for Lupercalia is beginning to build. This ancient festival, celebrated by all magic wielders the week leading up to Halloween, is dedicated to the Goddess Peralia, who blesses covens with enhanced health, virility, and fertility in exchange for an indelicate offering. Participants must engage in a series of ritualistic events celebrating lust and sexuality, transforming the festival into a vibrant expression of desire and intimacy. Only then will she offer her unholiest blessing.

You sit there, not in prayer, but in a quiet storm of contemplation, unsure if you will sign up for the festival this year. Another downfall to being viewed as an outsider is that you have yet to experience, well, anything. Sure, you might have kissed a couple of warlocks in your intermediate years, you even had a boyfriend in prep school whom you were convinced you could have loved eventually, but your virtue has yet to be given away.

It’s common for witches and warlocks to lose their virginity during Lupercalia; typically when they are in prep school. In fact, it’s encouraged. Yet, by age twenty, you still haven't mustered the courage to join in the festivities.

This year might be different…

The sudden crash of books jolts you from your thoughts. You turn to see Yeosang, a fellow student, crouched beside a toppled stack of The Book of Blood, its pages splayed open.

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he scrambles to gather the scattered volumes. His cheeks flush slightly, and you can't help but smile softly.

He’s a sixth-year student, just like Wooyoung. Yet, where Wooyoung’s presence demands your attention with an almost suffocating charisma, Yeosang embodies a more reserved demeanor. He tends to stick to his tight-knit group of friends and immerses himself in his studies, radiating a quiet intensity that draws you in without overwhelming you.

You feel a wave of annoyance wash over you as soon you realize that even in the presence of another man, your thoughts keep drifting back to Wooyoung. It frustrates you to no end, pushing you to a spontaneous decision: this year will finally be the year you break free from this obsession. By participating in Lupercalia, you’re determined to finally move on from him once and for all.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “The Dark Lord has already provided me with the clarity I came here for.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, carefully restacking the last book. He glances to his left, likely considering the seat he usually occupies, before turning back to you. “Would you mind if I joined you?” he asks, a hopeful note in his voice as he gestures toward the space beside you.

“Not at all, please do,” you smile.

He settles beside you with an effortless grace, and the air around you immediately fills with the warm, intoxicating blend of amber and musk from his cologne. The scent is rich, almost magnetic, pulling your attention in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You fidget with your hands, trying to focus on anything but how good he smells, as your mind races to keep pace with your quickening heartbeat.

Maybe... you could partner with Yeosang for the festival. The thought lingers as you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s undeniably handsome—sharp features that give him a striking, confident look, but it’s his kindness that really stands out. There’s a warmth in the way he carries himself, a subtle softness behind those strong eyes that makes him more than just attractive. You wonder what it would be like to lose your virginity to someone like him, someone who seems both strong and thoughtful in all the right ways.

"Are you sure you are okay? You seem a little tense," he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern as his eyes search your face. You hesitate to answer, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks, and though you're trying to keep your composure, your breath has grown a little quicker, more shallow.

Thankfully, he’s kind enough not to mention it, but you catch the flicker of awareness in his gaze. His words are gentle, but there's an underlying curiosity there—like he's not just asking out of politeness but because he genuinely cares. You try to steady yourself, aware of the closeness between you, and suddenly the air feels heavier as if the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for your next move.

"I didn’t mean to pry if it’s personal," he quickly adds, his voice softening as he notices your hesitation. His words have a touch of urgency, and he backtracks, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. His shifts slightly, giving you space while still holding onto the moment, unsure whether to push further or retreat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" The words escape your lips before you even realize what you’ve said. For a moment, you freeze, caught off guard by your sudden vulnerability. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but there’s no turning back now.

Yeosang nods and softly says, “Of course.”

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” you admit guardedly.

“Oh, um. That’s, uh…” He’s visibly taken aback when he hears your confession, stumbling over his words. “Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, uh, that’s really something. I just, uh… I guess I never saw you as someone who hadn’t, you know, participated.” He draws out the last word, his tone heavy with the unspoken meaning.

You nod, trying to meet his eyes. “I know, it’s just… I never felt called to join in on the festivities in previous years. But lately, that feeling has… changed.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, I get it. So you’ll be signing up for the events this year?” He asks with a calm, collected voice, though he’s concerned that the quickened rhythm of his heartbeat betrays his calm facade.

Hearing your confession piques his interest. He’s always found you hauntingly beautiful and has enjoyed the casual conversations you’ve shared between classes and such, but today feels different.

He knew you didn’t actively participate last year, though he figured you were still doing something-someone-in private. Now that your secret is out, there's something undeniably more intriguing about you—an unexpected allure that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

“I think you should,” he blurts out, then quickly adds, “What I mean is, the festival’s about self-expression and the intimacy you share along the way. If you’re looking for a wild introduction to Lupercalia, there will be plenty of opportunists who share that venereal vision. But if you want something more comforting…choose someone who makes you feel safe and respected for your first time.” Yeosang trails off, his gaze lingering a little too long, the implication unmistakable. He clears his throat, trying not to give himself and his intentions away.

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you say while resting a hand above his knee, genuinely appreciating his insight.

Before the conversation can continue, the sound of footsteps echoes through the Church as fellow students file in, taking their seats. Black Mass is about to begin.

Wooyoung hadn’t intended to listen in on your conversation. He was too busy waiting for the other Dark Stars to arrive at the closed-off sanctuary to finish preparing for Black Mass. As usual, they didn’t show up early despite his suggestions. That’s a lie; he knew his words were less like suggestions and more like demands.

He was well aware they’d be late today, especially since most of the fifth and sixth years had spent the night at an intimate pre-Lupercalia party that stretched into dawn.

The only reason he peeked through the shadows was due to a loud crash, which he soon realized came from Yeosang, who appeared entranced by someone sitting near the front of the Church. That’s when he noticed it was you.

He’ll admit to having observed you over the past year—not out of personal interest, but because he’s intrigued by your unique gift and curious as to why the Dark Lord chose you of all people. Yes, you’re undeniably attractive as most witches are, but your ability to manipulate pure power without relying on spellwork is, to him, the most compelling quality you possess. If you had the right social standing, you would likely ascend to the role of High Priestess in a very fortunate coven.

From his hidden vantage point, he watches as his friend settles down beside you; that’s when the conversation begins.

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” he hears you share your secret. Now that is quite a confession.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a smirk as he observes your flushed face from a distance, the rosy hue contrasting with the cold room that surrounds you. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes as he takes in the way you shift nervously, completely unaware of his gaze.

Knowing that you haven’t been touched stirs a mix of amusement and curiosity within him. He wonders what thoughts are racing through your mind, feeling a strange sensation rush through him when you place your hand on his classmate’s thigh.

He saw no reason to hold back from participating. The moment he came of age, he dove in—and he’s done so every year since, always finding ways to revel in the experience to the fullest. As he reflects on past encounters, a pleased smile crosses his face as he silently counts the number of popped cherries he’s collected over the last several seasons, each a vivid memory weaved into his mind.

‘What’s one more…’

As more students trickle in and take their seats, the soft murmur of conversation fills the air. Wooyoung senses the moment is right and slips out of the shadows just as Father Blackmoor begins to walk down the aisle, weaving between the pews filled with eager faces. The flickering candlelight dances on the stone walls, casting a warm glow that contrasts with the coolness of the sanctuary.

He moves to stand on the left of Father Blackmoor, joining the other Dark Stars who are trying to stifle their yawns. The collective fatigue from the previous night’s festivities hangs in the air, but a shared excitement simmers beneath the surface. He exchanges brief glances with his fellow Stars, a silent acknowledgment of their late-night revelry and the anticipation of what today’s ceremony will bring.

“Fiends and Friends, today marks the beginning of our annual Lupercalia Festival,” Father Blackmoor announces, his voice resonating through the crammed Church. “As you all know, Lupercalia is upon us. I can feel the excitement buzzing in the air. The Festival of Wolves is a cherished tradition within our coven, and we take immense pride in honoring Goddess Peralia through a series of exhilarating rituals, all in hopes of receiving her unholiest blessings. With that in mind, let’s review the week’s events for those of you who are new to our practices.”

Father Blackmoor pauses to take an envelope from Wooyoung. “Tomorrow marks the start of the Assessment Period, which will be held in the Grand Hall. Witches who sign up today will be quizzed by prospective partners in hopes of finding their ideal match.”

“Courting begins on Tuesday. Those interested in a specific witch will reserve time slots to spend more time together. By the end of the night, the warlocks must submit the names of the witches they wish to be paired with. This will be followed by the Matching Ceremony on Wednesday, where the pairs will be revealed to the entire coven. On Thursday, we’ll have the Moon Ritual, during which the paired couples will venture into the darkwood to complete the rite. More specific details will be shared on the day, but they are expected to spend the night together beneath the moon in unholy abstinence.”

Some students snicker, knowing very well they won’t be abstaining from anything that night.

Father Blackmoor waits for the room to settle down before continuing, “Friday ushers in the Insatiable Hunt at dusk, where wolf-masked warlocks will chase after their red-cloaked witches through the woods, culminating in divine pleasure once they’ve been caught. We’ll conclude the week of festivities on Saturday with the Final Feast, where we will express our gratitude to Goddess Peralia for her many blessings this season.”

Wooyoung steps forward once more, this time carrying an ancient, leather-bound tome. The worn edges and faded lettering hint at its age and significance.

It’s the Book of Blood; which contains hundreds of Witches and Warlock's printed names, signed with their crimson ink, as a binding commitment to their word. It’s like a contract between yourself, the entire coven, and the Dark Lord himself.

With a practiced hand, he carefully cracks it open, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Witches that dare to participate, please step forward, say your intent, and sign your name in the Book of Blood.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you push yourself to your feet, joining the line of participants ahead of you. A mix of excitement and nerves swirl in your stomach, each step bringing you closer to the moment you've been both dreading and anticipating.

The weight of curious eyes fall on you as you move, but none more intense than Yeosang's. His gaze feels like a spotlight, cutting through the crowd around him.

With each passing second, your pulse quickens as the line inches forward at a deathly slow pace. Every breath feels shallow, as if the air is too thick for your lungs to handle. Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your belly, your feet move on their own, as if guided by some force beyond your control.

Before you even realize it, you’re standing before Wooyoung. His eyes pierce down onto you while he hands you a knife, “Do you hereby pledge your full participation and commitment to the forthcoming Lupercalia festival and all associated events?”

Taking a deep breath, you respond, “Yes, I pledge myself.”

You take the knife from him, feeling the cold steel as you press the sharp blade into your palm. With a swift motion, you slice a clean, precise line across your skin. Ruby-red blood wells up, pooling in your cupped hand. Without hesitation, Father Blackmoor raises his hand, his dark magic swirling in the air as he draws the blood from your palm. It twists and shapes into the form of a pen, glowing faintly with a sinister aura, ready to be used.

You reach up and grasp the hovering pen, its energy vibrating through your hand. As you sign your name in the book, a surge of adrenaline floods your veins, electrifying every nerve. The moment the ink dries, you feel an undeniable shift. Something deep within you has been awakened.

Wooyoung smirks, knowing the sensation very well. “There’s no backing out now,” he says to you, his gaze locking onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“So,” Jongho, a second-year student like yourself, pauses to clear his throat after pulling on his tie, “That was awful.”

You chuckle, relieved to see you're not the only one with frayed nerves. “Yeah, good luck with the rest of them.”

He smiles back before shuffling along to the next person.

It’s Assessment Day, and every witch who signed their name is being rigorously questioned by the participating warlocks. Friends who had gone through this in previous years warned you about what to expect, and they were right. It’s definitely a forced mingling period on steroids.

It’s only been an hour, and you’re already exhausted of the routine of answering questions filled with probing and uncomfortable inquiries that delve into personal preferences. Over and over again, you're forced to confront touchy subjects, as if each question is designed to peel away the layers of your desires, as if you know.

The process feels more like an interrogation than a mere assessment, testing not just your patience, but your lack of knowledge on the subject at hand—sex.

The situation would be far less awkward if you didn't have to sit directly across from someone to verbally review the list. After each question, it’s mandatory to respond in one of the following ways: Agree - you give consent to the matter being discussed with the current party; Acknowledge - it is a potential option, and you give partial consent or Decline - no consent is given.

You pick at your fingernails while you wait for the next warlock.

“Penny dreadful for your thoughts?” You glance up to see Yeosang sliding into the seat across from you, with a broad smile spread across his handsome face.

“Oh, hi!” you say, doing your best to not sound startled. “Just wondering when all of this will be over, you know?” you continue, waving your arms around.

“Yeah, this part of the process isn’t the most comfortable. But I understand why it’s necessary,” he comments while leaning forward on the table. “Have the others been respectful?”

“Oh, yes. Yeah, everyone has been nice. I’m learning how many students I’ve never spoken to before,” you reply lightheartedly.

"Shall we begin?" Yeosang asks with a playful glint in his eyes, nodding toward the paper resting between you on the table, waiting for your cue to dive in.

Just as he reaches to pick up the list of desires to discuss, his movement is halted by the sudden arrival of Wooyoung, whose presence instantly commands attention.

He strides up to your table with his usual confidence, a grin tugging at his lips. The conversation shifts before it even begins, as Wooyoung’s energy pulls both your attention toward him without saying a word.

Yeosang lowers the paper, his eyes flicking between you and Wooyoung, sensing the inevitable distraction.

“Father Blackmoor has requested your presence in the Anti-Sacristy,” Wooyoung announces, handing him a miniature scroll with a secret message.

Yeosang frowns while reading it over, “Please excuse me.”

"Of course, I hope everything's alright," you murmur, though your words go unheard as he's already on his feet, moving swiftly toward the door.

Watching Yeosang rush out, you suddenly realize Wooyoung is still standing there. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and he tilts his head, studying you with a curious intensity.

"Seems like you require a partner," he says with a smirk, sliding effortlessly into Yeosang’s chair without missing a beat.

You’re too stunned to respond and shift uncomfortably in your seat, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. He’s not offering to go through the questionnaire, is he?

Somehow, you forgot that you would, at some point, have to converse with Wooyoung today. It entirely slipped your mind up until this moment. And now he’s here without giving you time to prepare. You start to breathe a little heavier, and a slight sense of panic sets in.

“Why are you acting like that?” He says with a raised eyebrow, noticing your bouncing leg (a nervous habit of yours that annoyingly shows up at the worst possible moments.)

“I’m not sure what you mean?” Well, yes, you do but you won’t admit that. But your hyperventilating and antsy body might tell a different story.

“Yeah, right,” he rolls his eyes.

Your eyes lock on Wooyoung’s as he casually picks up the page. Without waiting for your reaction, he glances at the list and reads off the first item, his voice smooth and confident.

"How does each party feel about blood play; drawing blood by use of knives or other sharp weaponry, smearing blood, using blood as a lubricant, and/or tasting blood?" he reads off, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he waits for your response.

"I acknowledge," you reply with hesitation in your voice, uncertain whether you’re truly opposed to it, yet not entirely sure if you fully consent either. “And you?”

Wooyoung tilts his head again, “Do you really need to ask?”

"You and I both know there are specific rules to follow here," you say, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed, eyes fixed on him with a mixture of challenge and caution. And, if you’re being completely honest, there’s a hint of annoyance now too. The nervousness from earlier has vanished entirely.

“Fair enough,” "he replies with a nonchalant sigh, “I agree.”

It’s your turn to read off the next item. “Does each participating student consent to bringing in other parties to join and/or watch your sexual relations? And additionally, joining others.” You look up toward Wooyoung, already expecting him to agree to those terms.

“Decline,” he states firmly, his voice dropping an octave as he adds, “I don’t share.”

You try to mask your shock, but the expression slips through.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I also decline.”

He nods curtly, and you swear you hear him mutter "good" under his breath.

You breeze through the next set of questions surprisingly fast, both providing the appropriate answers as you work your way down the page.

At first, Wooyoung seemed a bit disinterested, but something caused his attitude to shift. Now, he’s more engaged, genuinely listening to your reasonings whenever you offer it.

“Last question, how many sexual partners have each participating party had?”

As he finishes speaking, you narrow your eyes at him, “That question isn’t on the list.” You’ve practically memorized them all by now. “You’re making that up.”

“So? Answer anyway,” he dares.

You glare at him, silently debating whether or not you should tell the truth. “Screw it,” you exhale, “None.”

Instead of the shock or teasing you expect, he simply blinks at you, as if he already knew what your answer would be.

But how…

When you wake the next morning, butterflies are already fluttering in your stomach. At this point, it’s hard to judge who will end up courting you, though you have a pretty good idea that Yeosang is interested. When he returned after visiting Father Blackmoor, you two had quite a connection while going through the assessment list.

You’ll find out for sure when you make it to the Dining Hall the courting schedule will be pinned on the announcement board for everyone to view.

You decide to grab a pastry and wait for the crowd around the schedule to thin out before checking how many dates you will have today. To keep things relatively fair, each witch is only allowed to have up to five courting suitors. A flicker of nerves sets in—what if no one reserved one of your time slots?

For the love of Lucifer, please let me have at least one warlock courting me.

You shove the last bite into your mouth and make your way to the board, eager to find out. Peeking around the remaining heads blocking your view, you spot that two of your time slots have already been reserved. Just as you’re trying to make out the names, someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Ghoul morning, Y/N,” Yeosang says with a smile, handing you a card. Your heartbeat picks up, recognizing the formality; courting warlocks are required to provide the witches with a card that essentially confirms their date.

“Hi, Yeosang!” You beam. Praise Satan.

He looks relieved when you accept his card. “I was hoping to see you this morning. Meet me at the Weeping Willow at three o’clock this afternoon. I have a special activity planned for us.”

You’re about to respond when you can feel his presence. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung standing closely behind. He towers over you, staring down Yeosang.

“Do you need something?” you ask, bringing his attention back to you while silently begging that he’s not here to send Yeosang away again, like yesterday.

“Yes,” he extends a hand, offering you a card. You stare at it in disbelief. He’s not here to steal Yeosang; he’s stealing you.

Wooyoung is your other suitor.

“I believe you’re meant to spend the morning with me.” Wooyoung’s eyes drift from yours and back to Yeosang’s, who tenses beside you. They seem to have a silent exchange of words.

“I see,” Yeosang says curtly, “Enjoy your time together.”

Before you have a chance to say anything Yeosang already disappears. Damn it.

“Come on, follow me,” Wooyoung demands while grabbing your wrist. He leads you down the dim, shadowy hallways of the school before picking up the pace as you leave the safety of the school, heading into the woods.

The thick trees close in around you, and the air feels heavier with each step. Fog swirls at your feet but mysteriously clears a path ahead of him like it knows exactly where he's going. You follow, feeling the cool, damp air cling to your skin. The deeper you go, the more unfamiliar the landscape becomes—you don’t recognize this part of the woods at all, and a strange sense of unease settles over you.

“Bloody heaven, where are you taking me?” you huff, doing your best to keep up with his long strides.

“You’ll see,” he grumbles, helping you up when you trip over an exposed tree root. “Can you stop tripping every five seconds? You’re slowing us down, and we’re on a time crunch.”

You glare at the back of his head as he speeds up. What a dick.

It’s not long before you arrive at the destination; it’s a stone table in the middle of the woods. You look around suspiciously. “Is this a ritual site? Are you planning on killing me for some weird sacrificial thing now that you know I’m a virgin, or…?”

Wooyoung bursts out laughing, “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, actually. This is a portal.”

“A portal? To where?” you ask, peering at the stone. It doesn’t look like any portal you’ve ever seen.

“Want to find out?” he offers a hand for you to take, and you grab it warily.

He places his other hand on the stone, and its magic instantly pulls you through the atmosphere, sending you spiraling toward an unknown destination.

When you land, your feet hit the damp cobblestone street with a soft thud. The air smells of rain and baked goods, and you take in the bustling scene around you—witches and warlocks are flowing in and out of quaint little shops that line both sides of the road, their chatter filling the air. The street is alive with energy, and everything looks both foreign and strangely charming.

Before you can fully absorb it all, Wooyoung tugs you along, his grip firm as your head swivels, trying to figure out exactly where you’ve been transported to. The unfamiliar cityscape seems like a dream, its details slipping through your grasp as you hurry to keep up.

Suddenly, you collide with his back, not realizing he has stopped. "Ouch," you mutter, rubbing your nose in surprise. You’re about to say more when something above catches your eye—the sign swinging in the breeze.

"Trahana’s Tomb!" you squeal, excitement bubbling up. For ages, you've wanted to visit this place, but something always got in the way. Now, here it is, right in front of you, and the thrill of finally arriving sends a rush through you.

Trahana is a renowned sorceress and writer known for her vast collection of grimoires, enchanted artifacts, and other rare occult items—many of which are now on display and for sale at her legendary store. You've been itching to get your hands on her coveted Book of Arcane Beasts, a tome filled with forbidden knowledge of magical creatures, their histories, and untold powers.

Wooyoung holds the door open for you, and without a second thought, you dash inside. Your eyes widen as you take in the towering shelves crammed with both ancient and new books. Every corner of the shop is overflowing with enchanted curiosities.

At the back of the shop, a narrow, spiraling staircase catches your eye. It likely leads to an upper level filled with even more treasures waiting to be explored. The thought of what might be hidden beyond tempts you, adding to the growing sense of wonder.

"Oh, my sweet, evil boy! How are you?"

You turn to see a tall, elegant woman pinching Wooyoung’s cheeks with an affectionate grin.

He swats her hands away, groaning, "Aunt Hana, you know I hate when you do that. I’m not five anymore."

She laughs, unbothered by his protest. "Oh, you'll always be the stubborn young warlock playing with the Acheron Configuration upstairs even when told it was off limits," she teases, her eyes twinkling with the memory. “Goddess knows how many hours you spent trying to crack that spell.”

She shifts her gaze to you, giving you a quick once-over before raising an eyebrow. "Don’t be rude, Wooyoung. Introduce me to your friend."

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, "Forgive me. This is Y/N, another student at Onyx Academy. Y/N, meet Trahana, the curator of this fine establishment and, unfortunately, my insufferable aunt."

Trahana smirks, ignoring his jab. "Charmed, I’m sure," she says, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she sizes you up.

"I need to get back to work, but it was a pleasure meeting you, darling," Trahana says with a warm smile, her voice dripping with a mix of elegance and mystery. She gives you one last appraising look before turning away, her long robes sweeping the floor as she glides effortlessly toward the front of the store. The air feels lighter without her presence, yet the sense of power she carries lingers, leaving you a little awestruck.

You gape at him once she’s out of earshot. "She’s your aunt?"

Wooyoung sighs, nodding with exaggerated patience. "Yes, I’m painfully aware."

"That’s so cool. So you spent a lot of time here growing up?" you ask, curious to learn more about him.

"Yeah," Wooyoung replies, glancing around the shop with a hint of nostalgia. "My parents traveled a lot for business when I was younger, so this place became like a second home. Now, I come back whenever I need a break from school. Plus, it’s a great place to study; there's something peaceful about the chaos here compared to the eerie silence of Onyx Academy’s library."

"That makes sense," you say, nodding as your fingers trail across the spines of the old books lining the tight aisle. The dust, the energy, and the soft hum of magic in the air make the shop feel alive, the perfect contrast to the academy’s cold, quiet halls. "I can see why you'd find this place comforting."

Wooyoung smiles, clearly more relaxed here than you've ever seen him. "It’s got a strange kind of charm, doesn’t it?" he says, his voice softer now as the two of you meander through the maze of shelves, discovering little pieces of history with every step.

He allows you to explore the shelves, letting you dive into the books that capture your interest. As you lean down to examine the aged pages, he watches as a loose strand of hair slips across your face, and you absently tuck it behind your ear.

"Can I show you something?" he asks, gently drawing you away from the book that’s captivated your attention.

You glance up at him, and to your surprise, he almost seems nervous. It’s a rare sight for someone who usually exudes such confidence. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, making you curious about what he wants to show you.

Nodding, you allow him to lead you toward another bookshelf two aisles away from where you were just standing. His gaze flicks across the titles, searching for something specific.

"Ah, here it is," he finally says, lifting his arm to reveal a book with a deep blue spine. You hear a soft click as he pulls it out slightly, followed by a faint unlocking sound. With a practiced motion, he shifts down to another shelf and pulls out a book with a green spine. To your astonishment, the entire bookcase creaks ominously before revealing a secret door.

"This whole day just keeps getting stranger by the minute. Is this another portal?" you ask, a mix of skepticism and humor in your voice.

Wooyoung grins playfully. "As entertaining as that would be, no. It’s not a portal. It’s my secret place."

You turn to look at him. "See, now that’s kind of worse. Now I really don’t want to go in." The idea of stepping into his hidden sanctuary feels more daunting than the prospect of another magical journey.

He gives you a look.

“Okay, fine. In I go,” you say, taking a step closer before reaching for the cold handle. As you turn it and push the door open, you peer into the darkness beyond, straining to gauge what lies within. And, if you have to be completely honest, wondering why it needs to be hidden away.

Wooyoung steps inside after you, snapping his fingers to conjure his magic. A bright orb of light flickers to life, glowing softly at first. As he guides it upward, it gradually brightens and rises to the center of the room, illuminating the hidden space with a warm, inviting glow. The walls are revealed and adorned with eclectic decorations and mysterious photographs, creating an enchanting and haunting atmosphere.

"What is this place?" you ask, your curiosity piqued as you step closer to a nearby table and spot a stack of photographs. You pick up the first few, admiring the artistic shots of a plant you recognize from your walks through the Darkwood—it's a Moonset Fern, captured in full bloom. You remember learning about it in Herbology 101 last year; it’s renowned for its ability to protect against ill-will spells.

Intrigued, you skim through the rest of the stack. Each photo showcases different plants, all with potent herbal properties, their images so carefully composed they almost seem to pulse with hidden power.

“So,” Wooyoung says nervously, “What do you think?”

“Of the photographs? I think they’re beautiful. You took these?” He nods. “I didn’t know you had an interest in photography. Or Herbology, for that matter.”

"It’s a secret interest. Obviously," Wooyoung says, gesturing around the room to emphasize his point. "Unfortunately, Father Blackmoor thinks it’s a complete waste of time. To him, this is the work of a lesser warlock." The distaste is evident in his voice, like the words themselves leave a bitter taste in his mouth. "He’d rather I focus on proving my potential to become the youngest Anti-Pope."

"Do you believe him?" you ask, watching his reaction closely.

"Am I even allowed to believe any different?" he replies, his tone a mix of resignation and defiance. He picks up a different stack of photos and flips through them, each holding a distant memory of a time he felt genuine joy.

"Part of me wishes I wasn’t destined for this life—that I had the power to shape my own future," Wooyoung admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotion. "But then the other half of me hates myself for even thinking like that, especially after everything my family has sacrificed to get me here." His gaze drops, the weight of expectation clearly pressing down on him, caught between desire and duty.

“No one in the history of The Church of Night has ever turned down a position of power once they've received the proper training and hold the necessary status,” he continues, his tone growing darker. "I can’t even imagine the consequences of rejecting something like that." The mere thought seems to weigh on him, defying centuries of tradition would unravel everything—not just for him, but for everyone tied to his legacy.

“That’s a frustrating position to be forced into. Though, I hate to admit I’m jealous.”

His head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours, confusion and a flicker of anger etched across his face.

"I’ve spent my whole life not knowing what my future will look like," you begin, your voice tight with emotion. “I have all this power, yet no one can explain why I have it or what I’m supposed to do with it. I don’t have even the slightest clue where I’ll end up in life, so yeah, from that standpoint, I am a bit jealous of your situation," you admit, a hint of envy creeping into your voice.

As you speak, the anger in his expression gradually fades, replaced by a quiet understanding. His features soften, and you can see him truly considering your words, letting them sink in.

"At least you have a clear path laid out for you, even if it’s not exactly what you want. I’m still stumbling around, trying to figure out what my purpose even is. But even then..." your tone softens slightly, "If I were you, I wouldn’t let my sense of duty smother the passion I feel for another study—even if it’s an uncommon path for someone in my position.”

You begin again, your voice steady with conviction, "The Dark Lord wouldn’t have put this path in front of you if there wasn’t something here worth discovering. I’d bet there’s a connection between each path, and maybe, just maybe, you’re meant to do something with both. Something no one else has thought of yet.”

Wooyoung hadn’t thought of that.

“That’s just my two cents,” you sigh, setting the photos down and walking over to the next table with hundreds more to look through.

One photo in the middle of the pile catches your eye, standing out in a way the others don’t. You can’t quite place the plant; it’s unfamiliar, yet stirs a sense of deep nostalgia. It’s a rich olive green, with spiny stems and sharply pointed leaves giving it a menacing look. But what truly captivates you is the ethereal purple aura surrounding it, shimmering faintly, like the plant itself is alive with ancient magic. Something about it feels important, though you can’t recall ever seeing it before.

"It’s a Ghost Violaceae," Wooyoung murmurs softly, leaning in close over your shoulder. His breath is warm against your ear as he speaks, his voice slightly raspy. "It’s commonly used in the art of seduction." His words hang in the air, as mysterious as the plant itself, and the subtle intensity in his tone makes the air between you suddenly feel different.

Wooyoung would do unspeakable things to know the thoughts swirling in your mind right now. He’s desperate to unravel what it is that made you blush so fiercely, what’s causing your heart to race and your breath to quicken.

You turn slightly, looking up at him with your lips parted. Wooyoung tilts his head, his eyes sparkling as he tries to decipher the emotions playing across your face. There's a flicker of curiosity in your gaze, his focus sharpening as he leans in just a fraction closer…

The sudden ringing of a timer blares through the silence, startling you both. Your head snaps toward the sound and you see a stopwatch floating in midair, its rhythmic ticking a clear reminder that your time is almost up. It’s time to return to Onyx Academy to prepare for your next session with Yeosang.

Beside you, Wooyoung tenses, the atmosphere immediately changing. The warmth in his eyes vanishes as quickly as it has surfaced, replaced by the cold, guarded demeanor he typically fronts. His walls shoot back up, and just like that, the brief vulnerability between you disappears.

Blair eyes you curiously, her black feathers ruffled while she senses the secret you’re holding back. She’s perched on a low branch, watching as you wait beneath the cascading limbs of the Weeping Willow. You’ve arrived early, not finding any solace in the silence of your room after returning to campus. Yeosang should be here any minute, but the unease from earlier lingers.

Wooyoung had barely spoken after the stopwatch appeared, his mood darkening as he grudgingly led you back to the portal. He rushed you through without a word, his steps heavy with frustration, and stormed off toward the church once back on school grounds without so much as a goodbye.

You’ve been trying to clear your mind, focusing your energy on the upcoming session with Yeosang, but the tension from Wooyoung still simmers under the surface. You take a deep breath, determined to push it aside and give Yeosang your full attention. He deserves it.

Blair lets out a sharp caw before taking off into the sky, disappearing into the distance as soon as she senses his presence. She knows to give you your privacy, leaving you alone just as he approaches.

“Oh, you’re here already,” Yeosang says, a bit surprised to see you already by the willows. He steps forward, his happy expression growing as he extends a bouquet of dried wine-colored roses, elegantly tied with a black ribbon.

“These are for you.”

Your breath catches at the sight of them. "These are gorgeous. Thank you—wow," you say, smiling while gently taking the bouquet from his hands. The gesture feels intimate, the deep red petals catching the light as you admire them, warmth blooming in your chest at the unexpected kindness.

“You’re welcome. Do you want to apparate them to your room?” Yeosang suggests.

“That’s a good idea, actually,” you reply, lifting the bouquet in front of you. With a soft hum, you recite the incantation, watching as the flowers shimmer and disappear, transporting them to your bedside table in an instant.

“There,” you smile, “Now they’ll be waiting for me when I get back.”

“We have a short walk to our destination. If you’ll follow me?” Yeosang guides you up a path behind the willow grove, the incline leading to a breathtaking view of the Darkwood below. The forest stretches endlessly, its shadowy canopy glittering with ancient magic.

"Do you mind waiting here?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of nerves flickering across his face. "I thought I'd have a little more time to set things up."

You smile softly. "I don’t mind at all."

Relieved, he excuses himself, disappearing back down the trail to retrieve whatever surprise he has planned. The minutes pass in peaceful quiet, the cool air brushing against your skin. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment, until a faint rustling behind you interrupts the calm energy. You glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing, and shrug it off—probably just the wind.

But then, movement at the edge of the tree line catches your eye, a shadowy figure slipping between the trees.

You step cautiously toward the movement, your heart beating a little faster with each quiet footstep. The air seems to thicken as you approach, a soft rustling continuing just beyond the nearest tree. You steady yourself, taking a slow breath before rounding the massive trunk.

Face to face with the culprit, you freeze—a pair of wide, curious eyes staring back at you. It's a small, ethereal creature, almost like a fox but with wisps of glowing mist trailing from its fur. Its translucent body shimmers faintly under the dappled light filtering through the trees.

You exhale in relief, it’s just another familiar. The creature’s gentle gaze is more inquisitive than threatening; and she tilts her head, trying to decide whether to flee or come closer, her silver eyes studying you with an almost childlike curiosity. The creature soon takes off, before you have a chance to ask who they belong to.

As you turn around, a startled cry escapes your lips—Wooyoung is standing just inches from you, his presence completely unexpected.

"What are you doing here?" you snap, your hand instinctively flying to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart.

"I'm not really here. Just astral projecting. And who’s to say I wasn’t here first?"

You cross your arms, glaring at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn’t here first," he concedes with a shrug, his smirk faltering under your withering stare.

"Yeosang is going to be back any second," you warn, narrowing your eyes. "Are you here to spy on us?"

"Pfff... no..." he says, though the lack of conviction in his voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Lame," you mutter, watching his poorly veiled attempt at denial fall apart. He shifts awkwardly under your gaze, clearly caught.

“I don’t like that you’re alone with him.”

“Why?”

“I told you already. I. Don’t. Share.”

“You can’t be serious,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Is this just some kind of game? Are you playing with me because you don’t want Yeosang to have me? What is it, Wooyoung? You haven’t given me a second thought until two days ago.”

“It’s not like that—" Wooyoung starts, but the sound of rustling interrupts him, cutting his sentence short. Both of you turn, startled, as Yeosang emerges from the trees. His eyes sweep the clearing, looking for you since you aren’t standing where he left you. When he spots you, he smiles and approaches, carrying a woven basket in one arm and a blanket in the other.

You glance back toward Wooyoung, but he’s already vanished. Typical, slipping away before finishing what he started. Maybe he’s glad for the escape before you can grill him any further.

“Looking for something?”

‘More like someone,’ you think to yourself. “Oh sorry, I thought I saw a familiar, but it ran off,” you explain, brushing off the awkward moment. “So, what’s all this?” You gesture to the basket, quickly shifting the conversation before Yeosang has a chance to ask anything.

He grins, glancing down at his hands, a bit shy. "I hope you like picnics. I thought we could enjoy some treats and maybe get to know each other better."

“That sounds lovely,” you reply warmly.

Yeosang carefully picks a spot, spreading the blanket and the two of you sit side by side, the breathtaking view of the Darkwood stretching out below. There’s something serene about the quiet between you, the moment brimming with peaceful anticipation.

He sets the basket in front of you, lifting the lid to reveal an array of colorful sweets, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun reflecting off the glass jars inside. You notice delicate pastries, chocolates, and sugared fruits arranged neatly.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a little of everything,” Yeosang says, his voice low but sincere.

Your heart warms at the gesture. "You’ve really outdone yourself,” you praise, picking up one of the pastries for yourself and offering another to him.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to bring up the scroll from yesterday. "I didn’t want to pry, but you left in such a rush yesterday. Was everything alright?" you ask before taking a bite.

Yeosang chuckles softly, as if amused by the memory. "Funny you should ask. Turns out, when I arrived at Father Blackmoor’s office, he had no idea what I was talking about. No urgent scroll was sent for me. But he thought it was good timing and wanted to discuss my plans for after I complete my time at the academy."

Your curiosity piques further. "And those plans are...?" you press, hoping he’ll open up.

Yeosang hesitates briefly, but then, with a slight smile, he reveals, "I’d like to teach, maybe. My father was a teacher, and he always said I had the same qualities. Plus, I love kids. I think teaching them the basics of magic—the very foundation of what they'll need for the rest of their lives—would be important work."

A soft breeze ruffles the edges of the blanket, and you can’t help but smile at his answer. "That sounds perfect for you. I can already picture you as a great mentor."

The rest of your evening with Yeosang flies by in a blur of conversation and quiet moments spent enjoying the view. Before you know it, he's walking you back to the dormitories. He hesitates as you both stop outside the door to the girls' dorms, clearly lingering on something unsaid.

"I just want you to know," he starts, shifting nervously, "that regardless of what happens tomorrow at the Matching Ceremony, I had a lovely time tonight. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Before you can respond, he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your cheek. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You barely manage to mumble a “goodnight” back, still caught in the trance from the warmth of his lips against your skin. As you make your way up to your room, your heart feels light, and you can’t help but smile even wider when you notice the flowers he gave you earlier—now arranged beautifully in a vase on your nightstand.

But something else catches your eye—a small, glimmering box sitting on your bed, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. You walk over to it and find a note attached in handwriting you immediately recognize.

Not a game to me – W

Your breath hitches as you find the book you had been eyeing earlier—the one Wooyoung had distracted you from in Trahana’s shop—alongside the newest edition of The Book of Arcane Beasts. Tucked neatly between the pages are a few of the photographs from his secret room; the ones you had admired without realizing he noticed.

Your heart races as you hold the items in your hands, the meaning of his gesture sinking in. It’s not just a game. Whatever this is with Wooyoung, it’s something real. And now, you're more conflicted than ever.

Yeosang steps closer to the flames that surge in the iron vessel before him, casting flickering shadows across his face while he waits. If you look closely, shapes begin to form within the flames, dancing and twisting as though something is being forged in the heat. A sudden flare of sparks erupts from the fire—it's ready.

With a steady hand, he pulls an envelope from the fire. The edges of the paper are still smoldering while he opens it with precision, watching as the magic ink slowly manifests on the paper, revealing a name.

You notice a brief, almost imperceptible frown cross his face, but it vanishes just as quickly. “Polly Petrify,” he announces smoothly, his voice steady, betraying nothing as he steps back into place.

Father Blackmoor gives a solemn nod, signaling his approval of the pairing.

The Church is packed for the Matching Ceremony, and a mix of excitement and nervous energy ripples through the crowd. The warlocks stand in front of the filled pews, their postures rigid and unreadable, while the witches occupy the first two rows of seats, eyes flickering with anticipation.

You sit among them, your heart sinking as Yeosang’s name is paired with another witch. The knot in your chest tightens, but before you have time to register how you truly feel, Wooyoung steps forward.

It’s his turn.

Time stretches unbearably as his fingers hover over the glowing envelope that emerges from the flames. He grasps it carefully, tearing it open before pulling out the slip of paper, the suspense in the room thickening with every second.

At least a dozen witches sit in eager anticipation, each one hopeful, their eyes flicking toward the altar, silently praying that their name will be the one called.

You watch his face intently, almost holding your breath.

The moment he reads the name, a subtle smile curls at the corner of his lips, making him look effortlessly gorgeous. His inky black hair falls in perfect disarray, and the deep blue sweater he’s wearing brings out a distinctive glimmer in his eyes—it’s definitely his color.

As he steps back in line to let the next warlock take their turn, you realize that you completely missed whose name he just called. You’ve been too busy gawking to notice. Leaning toward the witch beside you, you whisper, “Whose name did he say?”

She shoots you a scowl and snaps, “Yours.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your gaze whips back up front. Wooyoung catches your eye and quickly winks, the gesture playful yet it’s enough to send a wave of heat rushing through you. Your pulse races and every nerve in your body is suddenly aware of his presence. The world around you fades for a second, the reality of the situation sinking in—he chose you.

It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. Your chest tightens, and it’s taking every ounce of control not to claw at your neck in search of air. You can’t tell if your racing heart is a sign of excitement, fear, or a mixture of both.

The pairing results swirl through your mind as you try to process how you feel about Wooyoung having been paired with you. You know that the warlocks have some say in their pairing preference, but the decision is ultimately up to Father Blackmoor and The Dark Lord.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now—you have a performance to focus on. As the rest of the ceremony wraps up, the witches, including yourself, are expected to sing I Put A Spell On You.

You walk up to the front of the church with the other witches, your heart still hammering in your chest. You can feel Wooyoung’s gaze searing into you from across the room, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You know that if you do, you’ll stumble over the lyrics or worse, completely forget your part.

With every note of the song, you force yourself to remain composed. Your voice blends with the others, the melody haunting, filling the ancient church with an enchanting resonance. The weight of his stare lingers, but you resist the pull until the very end. Only when the final note fades and you’re walking back to your seat do you glance his way. His eyes are still on you, but there’s something different about his expression now—intense, unreadable.

Father Blackmoor steps forward as the ceremony winds down, his voice ringing through the dimly lit room. “Remember, paired witches and warlocks are strictly forbidden from seeing each other until tomorrow evening when you’ll all meet in the Darkwood for the Moon Ritual. Ghoul evening to you all.”

The church stirs with hushed whispers and rustling bodies as everyone begins to disperse. But you remain in place for a moment, your mind tangled in the events that have unfolded. Tomorrow promises even more mystery, and the thought of it sends another shiver down your spine.

You follow the large group down the path toward the heart of the academy’s campus, their excited chatter buzzing in the crisp evening air. But as they veer toward the dining hall, you quietly part ways, taking steps in the opposite direction toward a different building.

The heavy wooden doors creak as you push them open, and the familiar scent of ancient tomes and aged parchment envelops you.

The sanctum, the private library for advanced students like yourself, is nearly deserted tonight, making it the perfect place to find peace in the aftermath of the ceremony. The usual hum of magic is calming and the near-silence offers a much-needed space to clear your mind.

You make your way to the Demonology section, where the dim light and towering shelves create a cocoon of solitude. Finding an empty seat, you settle in, snapping your fingers to summon your books. In an instant, they materialize on the table before you, pages full of dark knowledge waiting to be absorbed.

Despite it being Lupercalia season, the academic grind doesn’t stop. Your upcoming exams loom over you like a dark cloud, and no amount of supernatural matchmaking will change that.

You run your fingers over the spines of your books, mentally preparing yourself to dive into study mode. The familiar words of your Demonology texts are grounding, a reminder of the discipline and focus you need to maintain.

The sanctum is quiet tonight, only the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional whispered incantation breaking the silence. You try to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wooyoung—his voice, his gaze, the gift he left in your room. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside. There will be time for all that later. For now, you need to concentrate.

Time passes and after finishing a few chapters, you glance at your watch, eyes widening in surprise. Three hours have flown by. Blair is going to be furious that you’re late to feed her. Scribbling down a final note, you snap your fingers, sending your books back to your room before heading out of the sanctum.

As you step outside, you collide with someone. "Oh, I’m so sorry!" you stammer, glancing up to apologize, only to be met with familiar eyes twinkling beneath tousled black hair.

Wooyoung.

“You’re forgiven,” he says smoothly.

"We’re not supposed to see each other," you remind him, taking a cautious step back.

He tilts his head, smirking too, just like he always does. "I know, but you skipped dinner, and there’s something I’ve been dying to do since yesterday."

"What? Stalk me some more?" you quip, feeling a rare surge of confidence.

His smirk spreads into a full smile, and to your delight, he chuckles—a sound you’ve secretly grown to love. Your heart pounds faster.

"You wish," he shoots back, his eyes gleaming as he steps closer. The intensity in his gaze feels almost magnetic, as if he's looking right through you, straight into your soul. His nostrils flare with a sharp exhale, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper as he takes yet another step closer.

He doesn't answer. Instead, with one smooth motion, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. His touch is firm, but there’s a softness to the way his fingers splay across your back. You feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitching in your throat.

“This is breaking the rules,” you whisper, trying to find an ounce of self-control to step out of his embrace.

His proximity overwhelms your senses—the warmth of his body, the way his breath tickles your skin, and the undeniable connection crackling between you two. He tilts his head slightly, the smirk on his lips fading into something more serious, more dangerous.

“I don’t break the rules, I just bend them,” he rasps, his voice low and teasing, right before he closes the space between you. The moment his lips brush against yours, you freeze, caught off guard by the softness, the tenderness as he coaxes you into responding. His mouth moves gently, skillfully, as if testing the waters, daring you to give in.

A frenzy stirs inside you, an electric current surging through your veins. Your hands instinctively move to frame his face, your fingers sliding along the sharp lines of his jaw before tangling in his soft, messy hair. The kiss deepens, the intensity building with every second as you press yourself closer to him, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

You can’t get enough; the taste of him, the way his breath mingles with yours, and the undeniable pull that has your body responding before your mind can catch up. His other hand slides under your shirt and up your spine, anchoring you to him as if he never wants to let go.

Wooyoung mumbles an incantation against your lips before tickling the corners with his tongue. You’re too distracted to recall what he said, especially when you feel it.

Heat begins to radiate from his fingers, searing into your skin. It flows through your body until it hits your sweet spot, pooling dangerously between your legs.

You gasp against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to dip his tongue inside, swallowing your moans as you let them slip out. Pressing your legs together, you try to find any sort of friction, aching for something to relieve the growing pressure.

A sinful sound vibrates from his chest when you bite down on his lower lip ever so gently. You have to admit, the thought of kissing him has crossed your mind more times than you can count. But now, standing here with the taste of him on your lips, you realize the reality is so much better than anything your imagination could have conjured.

He’s more intoxicating than any dream could ever be. Every touch sends a thrill through you that no fantasy could ever match. The way he knows exactly what you like leaves you yearning for more in a way that feels almost addictive.

Blair caws, cutting through the shadows of the night and announcing her arrival with impeccable timing. You both jolt, breaking apart as if the spell between you has been abruptly shattered.

“Ghoul evening, Blair,” Wooyoung mutters, his voice still thick with the lingering tension. He glances at the raven-like figure perched nearby, an amused glint flickering in his eyes. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” he adds, his tone teasing. He looks down at you, pleased with how dissolved your shirt looks, how pouty your wet lips are from your nefarious activities.

He takes a step back, quickly smoothing down his hair and adjusting his clothes, his fingers lingering at his collar as he regains his usual composure. You, on the other hand, are still catching your breath, feeling the flush in your cheeks and the electric hum of the moment that lingers in the space between you.

Give me a little privacy to say goodbye, and I’ll give you extra treats for your late dinner, you say telepathically to Blair. She tilts her head, considering the offer, before finally cawing in agreement and taking off into the night, clearly satisfied with the deal.

“I want you to try something tonight,” Wooyoung murmurs, his voice low and full of mischief. His eyes glint with something dark and thrilling, sending a shiver down your spine. “When you’re alone in bed and everyone else is asleep…”

Your heart races while he speaks.

“I want you to pretend that your hands are my own, and I want you to touch yourself where you felt my magic earlier.”

“E-excuse me?” you stammer, your heart racing as you try to find the right words.

He grins, leaning in just enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he teases, his voice like velvet. “I need you to warm yourself up for me, so you’re ready to learn more tomorrow night. Will you do that for me?”

You nod, a shiver running across your skin as his words linger in the air.

“Now, get out of here and go feed Blair before you wake up tomorrow missing your eyes,” he adds with a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “Fine, see you later.”

“Yes, you will,” he says with a wink, watching as you turn to leave, his gaze heavy on you the entire way.

His words linger in your mind for the rest of the night.

It's now the witching hour, and your roommates are fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the potion you slipped into their bedtime tea. They never noticed the subtle, earthy undertones masking the spell’s effects, leaving them in a deep slumber for the next several hours.

It had to be done, the last thing you need is for one of them to wake and catch you in the act, especially while you're carrying out Wooyoung’s special request.

Under the safety of your blankets, you move quietly, as if any sudden movement could betray your secret. One hand begins to massage your breasts through your thin tank top, the other sliding down toward your pink panties.

Taking a deep breath, you open your legs, allowing your fingers to slip beneath the dampening fabric. After spreading your juices around, you rub your clit before slowly dipping your first finger into your slick entrance. The sensation is unfamiliar—neither bad nor uncomfortable, just something you're not used to. The pain of the stretch lingers, leaving a strange warmth that you can't quite place.

You close your eyes and pretend that Wooyoung is there with you. Swiftly, you begin to curl your fingers, simultaneously bucking into your hand. You picture him hovering over you, but the image clouds over, shifting into a different scene that becomes sharper.

Wooyoung is also in bed, with his hand wrapped around his exposed, thick cock, lazily pumping it. There’s something unsettlingly vivid about this image, as if it’s not just a product of your imagination. It feels real—too real. Gasping, you realize that he’s in your head, projecting himself, revealing his presence in a way that makes your heart race.

Then, as if he can sense that you've finally caught on to his wicked scheme, a dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your body’s temperature spike. “Are you touching yourself, like I asked you to?”

You suck in a sharp breath and nod instinctively, even though you know he can’t physically see you. But somehow, you sense that he knows.

“I bet you are,” he hums, closing his eyes while running his thumb over his pink head. He tosses his head back as he strokes himself, “I bet that tight little virgin cunt of yours needs some good stretching before she’s ready for me.”

Feeling the heat rising to the tips of your ears, they’re red from the weight of his words, like they’re wrapping themselves around you, pulling you deeper into his influence. The knot in your lower belly grows as you match your little finger thrusts to the speed of his hand pumps.

“Add another finger, honey, I know you can,” Wooyoung groans, his hand moving a little faster. “Look at how my cock aches to be sunk inside your sweet folds.”

You do as he commands. You’re panting at this point; completely zeroed in on his throbbing length while you climb towards bliss. The silent room fills with a sinful pattern of squelches from each thrust into your lush heat, and a divine sensation washes over you.

“Goddess, I’m about to make a mess,” he whines, a sound that you’ll never be able to forget. He stills, letting out another beautiful noise while his seed shoots out across his abs, some even on his dark silk sheets.

“That’s just a preview,” he grins devilishly, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

"Many blessings," Father Blackmoor's voice rings out, reverberating through the towering trees of the Darkwood. "Tonight, we honor the Moon and her radiant beauty. Paired couples, please step forward to collect your basket."

You step forward cautiously, aware of Wooyoung’s presence close behind you. As your fingers brush the edge of the woven basket, Wooyoung’s arm reaches past you, his hand closing around it first. His body hovers briefly against yours, a faint smile curving his lips. Sucking in a sharp breath, you pull your hand back as your mind flashes back to last night, Wooyoung’s cock is still fresh in your mind.

"Each basket contains a ceremonial knife," Father Blackmoor continues, his tone solemn. "You will begin the rite by smearing your blood upon your partner's forehead. Then, you must drink the purification potion—the milky-colored vial—and consume the figs, symbolizing your unity. Under the moonlight, you will lie side by side until dawn, as a testament to your bond and in preparation for tomorrow’s Hunt."

His final words hang in the cool night air as the forest seems to hush in reverence for what’s to come. You glance up at Wooyoung, and his eyes are already on you, dark and unreadable, only reflecting the moonlight.

As the other couples start to spread out across the forest, Wooyoung’s hand finds yours, tugging you deeper into the woods. His steps are quiet, purposeful, as the towering trees close in around you both. Your attention snaps forward when you catch a glimpse of movement—there, not far ahead, the same fox-like creature you spotted by the willows. The realization dawns on you: it’s Wooyoung’s familiar.

The creature moves gracefully, leading the way through the underbrush, its magical fur shimmering under the pale moonlight. Wooyoung follows without hesitation, his gaze fixed on his familiar. You trail behind, curiosity building, as the creature guides you to a secluded clearing hidden deep in the Darkwood.

“Thank you, Vixen,” Wooyoung murmurs once you’ve arrived. The fox-like familiar halts briefly, then glimmers before fading into the air, leaving behind a trail of glowing embers that slowly dissipate into the night.

Your eyes scan the clearing, and you notice the scene in front of you—a circle of softly flickering candles arranged around a blanket spread across the forest floor. The air hums with quiet magic, thick with mystery and anticipation. Wooyoung turns to you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight, a mischievous yet unreadable expression crossing his face.

Wooyoung extends his hand to you, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you step onto the soft blanket. With a single snap of his fingers, your clothes transform—yours into a sheer white nightgown, his into simple black pants, with his chest left bare, the candlelight casting shadows over his defined muscles.

“Ready to begin?” he asks, voice low, eyes holding a flicker of something dangerous yet enticing.

You nod, your breath catching for a moment. Reaching into the basket set down beside him, your fingers curl around the cool metal of the ceremonial blade. Together, your voices join in a low, rhythmic chant, weaving through the night air. The ritual words hang heavy between you as you press the blade to your finger, feeling the sharp sting as blood wells up. Stepping closer, you bring your hand to his forehead, smearing an upside-down cross on his tanned skin, the blood vivid against his complexion.

Without a word, you hand the blade to Wooyoung, your fingers brushing his in the exchange. He mimics your actions, the cool sting of the knife barely registering as he pricks his finger, marking your forehead with the same crimson anti-cross. The flames around you leap higher, responding to the magic building in your chant.

The moonlight glistens against his skin, bathing him in an ethereal glow as he lifts the purification potion from the basket. He drinks deeply, eyes never leaving yours, and then hands the vial to you. You take it from him, your pulse quickening as you lift it to your lips, the magic binding you both growing stronger with each word, each action.

His eyes darken; trailing over your nearly naked body. They land on your peaked nipples, and he lets out a deep exhale while his eyes are glued in place.

“Um, figs,” Wooyoung clears his throat, momentarily dazed, shaking his head as if to regain focus. He grabs one from the basket, handing you the other. You sink your teeth into the fruit’s tender skin, its bright red flesh spilling a sweet, rich juice onto your lips. A single drop escapes and trails down your chin, and you catch Wooyoung watching, his gaze lingering longer than usual. But he doesn’t say a word. Not yet.

You quickly wipe away the juice, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck. “So… what now?” you ask, your voice more uncertain than you intended. You’ve both completed the ritual, but the tension between you is undeniable. Neither of you has acknowledged last night’s activities, though you’re certain it’ll come up eventually. It has to.

He shifts slightly, his eyes scanning your face, and for a moment, it seems like he’s about to bring it up. His lips twitch into a half-smile, “I’ve got an idea or two.”

You’re not sure how it happened—one moment you’re standing, the next you’re lying beneath him. Wooyoung hovers above you, his arms on either side of your head, eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. His body is close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and your pulse quickens as his breath brushes against your skin.

Without notice, his lips crash down onto yours. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, moaning when your hands twist in his hair.

He presses his hips down into yours, letting you feel how worked up he’s already become.

“We're technically not supposed to do anything tonight,” Wooyoung says, his voice low and teasing once he pulls back. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as he adds, “But a rule’s never stopped me before.”

You pull his head back down to yours, kissing him languishingly as he rolls his hips into yours again.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, this time pressing his length right up against your covered heat.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a devilish smile when you whine incoherently about wanting more.

“Answer me, honey. Do you want more?” He asks with a growl, but the intensity in his gaze makes it clear—he already knows the answer.

“Yes,” you beg, “More. Please!”

He grabs handfuls of the fabric at your sides, bunching it up around your waist before he descends below.

Your dewy center is covered in a heavy coating of your arousal. Spellbound by the sight, he instinctively brings his fingers to your heat, gathering some of your transparent essence and smearing it around your folds.

“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Wooyoung mutters.

Incapable of waiting any longer, he dives in tongue first, licking a beautiful line from your slit’s opening up to your needy nub of nerves. Another growl resounds from his chest as he devours your sex, his cock involuntarily twitching when he sinks two fingers back to your opening. Wooyoung strokes his saturated fingers through your slit before sinking them inside your soft flesh, feeling your inner walls clench around them.

He pulls them out and admires how your hole instinctively sucks his digits back in where they belong.

“Such a tight little cunt. It’ll be ruined by tomorrow night,” Wooyoung groans; despite his words, there’s nothing but appraisal in his voice. He looks up at your body, meeting your eyes. His flash with a dark dominance, lust with a dash of something else flicker in them.

His devilish words only excite you further, and more of your sticky arousal coats his hand. Each curl of his fingers brings you closer and closer to writhing pleasure.

His head dips back down, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks it between his teeth. Gasping, you buck your hips upward, needing more. So much more.

“I can’t wait to turn you into a nasty little whore. Would you like that?” he asks in between little licks.

“Y-yes” you mewl. “Wanna. Be your w-whore.”

He’s got you dancing along the edge of a very dangerous cliff, and you want nothing more than to jump off, face first, and dive into the waves of ecstasy that await.

He can tell that you’re close; your walls are beginning to tighten around him. Flattening his tongue against your sensitive nub, he applies the right amount of pressure you need to come all over his face.

When he sits up, his mouth is dribbling with your release; it’s a pretty sight to see.

“Not bad for a virgin,” he teases.

Your blissful smile turns coy, “Is it my turn to taste you? You’ll have to teach this virgin just how you like it.”

A deep, low growl vibrates in his chest and the corners of his jaw flex as he stands up, his silhouette outlined from the moonlight.

“On your knees then, slut.”

You twist your body until you’re sitting on your knees, your used cunt dripping onto the blanket below.

“Goddess, I’m so fucking hard for you,” Wooyoung grunts while pulling his pants down.

Freed from his pants, his cock springs out before bouncing momentarily, then stands erect in its full glory. You reflexively clench at the sight of him. It’s just as you remember it from last night.

Tightening his palm around his shaft, Wooyoung begins stroking himself before lining his tip up to your lips.

“Take just the head into your mouth,” he murmurs. “Just while you warm up to the feeling.”

You immediately wrap your mouth around him and a wave of precum leaks directly onto your tongue. Circling his thick tip, you get comfortable with the weight of him on your tongue, learning his taste.

“Such a good slut,” Wooyoung croons, causing your core to tremble from his praises.

One hand moves to hold your chin, angling your head to look up at him, “When you’re ready for more, take a deep breath and take in more of me.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you suckle on his head, letting more and more of him into your wet cave. You run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, the tickling sensation causing him to jerk inside you.

Wooyoung tugs on your hair, softly at first, and then his fist wraps around the handful in his grasp. His impressive length fills your mouth, his immense girth cracking your jaw open with each gentle thrust.

Words of encouragement spill from his lips, giving you the confidence to suck in the final inch of his member.

Involuntarily, you gag around his cock when his thick head hits the back of your throat. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, falling soon after.

Without warning, his length surges into your throat and Wooyoung lets out a stream of colorful expletives as his release hits him. His hips jerk once more, and he tosses his head back underneath the moonlight.

You shudder, feeling his thick cum stick to the walls of your throat.

“Goddess,” he hums, “Sorry about that.” Wooyoung slips out of your mouth, admiring as you use the back of your hand, you wipe your soddened mouth.

“It’s okay. Now I know what to expect.”

Wooyoung pulls you into his embrace, and you both settle into the quiet rhythm of the night, staring up at the stars as they shimmer in the sky. His warmth surrounds you, grounding you amidst the cool breeze.

He shifts slightly, turning on the blanket to meet your gaze. “I need to warn you about tomorrow,” he begins, his voice lower, more serious. “The potion we warlocks take before the ceremony… it makes our animalistic instincts take over. It’s going to be rough. That’s why I’ve been preparing you, so to speak.”

A knot twists in your stomach at his words. You hadn’t realized the full extent of what tomorrow held, but now it makes sense. That’s why they call it the Hunt, you think, You’re basically their prey. The pieces finally click into place. His honesty, though jarring, makes you feel strangely grateful that he’s letting you in on something you weren’t aware of.

“I trust you,” you whisper softly. “You haven’t hurt me so far, so I’m not worried about tomorrow.”

Wooyoung’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He silently prays to Goddess Peralia that he won’t bring you any harm during the Hunt. The uncertainty flickers in his eyes for just a moment before he pulls you closer, wrapping you in his warmth.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as you settle against his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear, and soon your breaths fall in sync, the sound of the wind rustling through the Darkwood easing you both into a peaceful silence.

As the stars twinkle above, the night’s calm surrounds you like a protective cocoon, lulling you into sleep. You drift into a deep, restful slumber, cocooned in his arms, feeling the peace before the inevitable storm of tomorrow.

“The Insatiable Hunt begins,” one of the warlocks grins darkly before tossing back the elixir, the liquid shimmering as it slides down his throat. Wooyoung raises his glass in silent agreement, his eyes flashing with excitement before he gulps it down, feeling the fiery potion race through his veins. The others follow suit, the room buzzing as they prepare for the night ahead.

They pull on their wolf masks, transforming from men into primal hunters, instincts sharpening with every heartbeat. The thrill of the chase hangs thick in the air as they line up, muscles tensed, waiting for the doors to open.

Wooyoung’s body hums with the effects of the potion, a burning heat spreading through his skin. His senses sharpen—your scent lingers, intoxicating and irresistible. His pupils dilate as your essence floods his nostrils, every fiber of his being urging him forward. The others grin beneath their masks, but his focus is single-minded: you.

The doors creak open with a loud thud, unleashing them into the night. With a guttural growl, Wooyoung sprints into the woods, his feet pounding the earth as he follows your trail, the scent drawing him deeper into the Darkwood. His heart races, blood pumping with one singular purpose: to find you. To claim his prize.

Wooyoung moves like a shadow, effortlessly twisting and turning through the woods, his heightened senses guiding him closer to your trail. Each subtle shift in the air tells him you're near. He slows as he approaches a dense thicket, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. He can feel you hiding, watching, waiting.

His cock strains when he catches a whiff of your scent, his hardened member straining against the tightness of his pants as it begs to bury itself deep inside of you.

His eyes narrow, hyper-focused on the faintest rustle of leaves. You dart from the bushes, sprinting through the underbrush, your breath quickening as you distance yourself from him. He follows silently, his steps deliberately soundless as he stalks you.

You duck behind a tree, pressing your back against its trunk, heart pounding in your chest. Straining to listen, you hear... nothing. No footsteps, no rustling—nothing. A chill creeps up your spine. Slowly, you peek around the tree, scanning the shadows. There’s no sign of him.

Relief barely has time to settle in before you turn back and scream.

He’s right there, inches away.

"Gotcha," Wooyoung growls, his voice low and menacing, his breath hot against your skin. With a wicked grin, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as he slams your back against the rough bark of the tree. The impact sends a jolt through your body, your heart racing even faster now. His grip tightens, but not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

His eyes glint through the wolf mask with a dangerous mix of hunger and satisfaction, the thrill of the Hunt evident in every line of his expression.

Wooyoung's grip tightens, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “I can’t wait to split you in half with my cock.”

Before you can react, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the rough bark of the tree. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his hands slide down your sides, firm and unyielding.

He blames his newfound animalistic behavior for how fast he rips away your crimson cloak and the layers beneath it, leaving the shredded fabric scattered across the mossy forest floor.

In one swift movement, Wooyoung uses a knee to spread your legs and sinks into your inviting opening without warning. Tears sting your eyes from the sudden intrusion, but the pain quickly turns into mind-shattering pleasure.

“Taking it so well, aren’t you, slut?” he purrs, voice low and dripping with praise. The raw, commanding edge in his tone sends shivers through you, your insides tightening around him in response.

You hum an incoherent response, unable to form words when his cockhead is pressed against the swell of your cervix.

After ripping his mask off, Wooyoung’s fingers press into your hips. He holds you steady as he moves, each thrust punctuated by dark whispers of just how perfectly he fits inside you.

Wooyoung’s grin brushes against your neck as he drags his tongue up the curve of your skin, leaving a lingering lick before pressing a kiss just below your ear. His hips pull back slowly, his length retreating from your slick folds until only the tip remains, teasing you.

Then, with a low growl, he thrusts forward, filling you entirely in one fluid motion, claiming every inch as he sinks deep inside.

The sudden motion causes you to moan uncontrollably, his girth continuing to stretch out your soft walls. Your soaked cunt splitting open around Wooyoung’s enormous girth only causes him to swell more, if that’s even possible.

“M-more, please!” you whimper.

Wooyoung clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness ooze out where your bodies meet with each quick thrust.

One of his hands squeezes your side, the other falls to your round ass, and his claw-like nails scratch across your skin before he pulls his hand back to spank you. Your vision blurs from the impact, and you push your hips out, asking for more.

“Again,” you whine, your head digging further into the tree’s bark.

You bite down on your lower lip, anticipation building as you brace yourself. A sharp crack echoes through the air as his hand comes down against you, harder this time and sending another sting that radiates through your skin.

A moan slips past your lips, the sharpness transforming into pleasure that courses through your body. His fingers trace the spot he’s just marked, his low chuckle rumbling against your ear.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice rich with approval, each word sending shivers through you. “Turn around. I want to look at you," he demands next, his voice gritting through his teeth.

You obey, slowly turning to face him, your heart racing under his intense gaze. His eyes roam over you, filled with a mix of hunger and admiration that makes you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Wooyoung cups your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips as he drinks you in. "Look at you," he whispers, almost to himself, his thumb slipping inside your mouth. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around it, meeting his gaze as you lightly suck, earning a dark smile from him.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his free hand tracing down your body, grazing every curve and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "And you're all mine tonight." His words trail off as his length pounds into you again.

He watches as your lips part, head tilting back in pure bliss, and takes his chance. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue slipping between your lips with a raw desire, claiming every inch he can reach. The kiss is deep and possessive, leaving you breathless as his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.

His tongue strokes against yours, tasting every gasp and moan you release, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel beneath him. You melt into his kiss, losing yourself in the heat, the way he consumes you with each movement.

When he pulls back, Wooyoung drags his lips against the shell of your ear to whisper, “Is this what you want? Your little virgin cunt destroyed?”

“Yes,” you moan, voice low and thick with desire. Then, locking eyes with him, you let a wicked smirk curve your lips, meeting his heated gaze with a look as dangerous as his own. "Ruin me," you breathe, each word dripping with a challenge that sends a spark down his spine.

A growl escapes his lips, and his grip on you tightens. He pushes you against the rough bark, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as his eyes darken with pure, animalistic hunger. “You want to be ruined?” he whispers, his voice a low rasp against your ear as he pulls your hips even closer. “Careful what you ask for.”

His thrusts come harder, relentless, each one leaving you trembling and gasping as he takes you to the edge, only to pull you back before you can fall. His hand slides up your throat, a possessive touch that’s somehow both gentle and commanding as his thumb grazes your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You’re mine," he growls, eyes blazing, his body pressed against yours with no space left between you. He savors every inch of you, watching your face intently as he ravages you with a merciless rhythm, his fingers digging into your waist. “And I’m not stopping until you’re completely undone.”

Your moans grow louder, filling the night air and mingling with the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving in unison. The sounds echo through the Darkwood, a primal symphony that seems to resonate with the forest around you, intensifying with each frenzied thrust.

Wooyoung feels your walls clench tightly around him, a signal that you’re close to unraveling. “Cum around my cock, honey,” he rasps, his voice laced with possessiveness. “I know you’re close.”

He quickens his pace, pounding into you with a newfound urgency, while his fingers find their way to that sensitive spot between your legs. The moment his thumb and forefinger pinch your aching nub, pleasure spirals through you like wildfire.

You scream his name, your body seizing up as waves of ecstasy crash over you, each pulse flooding your veins with tingling heat.

He watches you intently, captivated as your face twists in bliss, feeling you squeeze around him, almost pulling him over the edge.

A low growl escapes his lips, and with two final, frenzied thrusts, he buries himself as deeply as he can, his abs contracting as he spills himself inside you. His teeth graze your bare shoulder, biting down as he rides out his release, filling you with a heat that leaves you both breathless.

“Oh, praise Satan,” he gasps, letting out a shaky laugh as he presses his forehead against yours. The two of you catch your breath together, heartbeats slowing, tangled in the afterglow.

You collapse entirely into his arms, utterly spent and trembling, every muscle deliciously exhausted as you sink into the darkness of sleep that lingers at the edge of your consciousness. A grin tugs at your lips, satisfaction mingling with exhaustion as you surrender to it, the night’s events replaying like a forbidden lullaby.

Nothing in your dreams could ever compare to the raw, disgraceful, dangerously addictive reality you’ve just experienced. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you let go, falling into a slumber filled with echoes of his touch.

The room is loud with the sound of laughter, clinking goblets, and whispered gossip. Candles cast a warm glow over the grand hall as platters of food float between the seated bodies; you're barely listening though, too hyper-aware of Wooyoung sitting beside you.

You steal a glance at him from across the table. He’s watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. A secret smirk plays at the corner of his lips, one that makes your cheeks burn under the soft glow of the chandeliers. It’s almost unbearable, this tension simmering between you, each stolen look as dangerous as a spark near dry wood.

His fingertips graze yours under the table, sending a rush through you each time. You both know the game you’re playing—pushing boundaries, daring each other, waiting for one of you to make the next move.

Finally, he leans in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Let’s get out of here.”

"We can’t just leave," you mumble, finally meeting his burning gaze. There's a warning in your eyes, but he ignores it, his grin only growing.

You bite your lip, glancing around at the oblivious faces around you. "It’s the middle of the feast," you continue, though your resolve is already faltering. "People will notice."

"Let them," he says, the mischief in his tone unmistakable.

He stands and takes your hand, his grip both gentle and possessive as he leads you out, weaving through the tables with a confidence that dares anyone to question him.

Whispers and side glances follow, and you try to ignore the burning stares—hungry warlocks with dark eyes, envious witches with guarded whispers.

Everything has changed.

Wooyoung’s presence grounds you, his thumb brushing reassuring circles against your skin. And when he glances back at you, tilting his head in that familiar way with a smirk tugging at his lips, you realize that somehow—despite all the chaos of this past week—some things aren’t so different after all.

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[honeyhae-svt]

hiii, I love your works so much and I couldn't help but to read them over and over! so may I please req actor reader x actor jeonghan but if you don't want to do it it's fine it's up to you but if you're going to do it I'm going to thank you very much!, ily🤍

Second Lead, First Choice

Yoon Jeonghan x F!Reader

Genre: smut, actor x actor, second lead x male lead, rivals to lovers(?), fake friends, unrequited love, jealousy, angst, dark romance, modern au, slowburn, toxic relationships, obsession, manipulation, betrayal, power imbalance, nsfw (18+), forbidden romance, possessive behavior, softdom!jeonghan, sub!reader, fluff (?), revenge, and emotional turmoil. (minors are NOT welcome. stay out.) warnings: explicit smut (18+), obsessive behavior, manipulation, mild dub-con, filming without consent (non-public), unhealthy relationships, slowburn tension, power dynamics, jealousy, angst-heavy themes, dark plot twists, possessive behavior, and mentions of betrayal. smut warnings: explicit sexual content, public/semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal penetration, oral fixation (kissing, biting), dom/sub dynamics (soft dom jeonghan, sub reader), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink implications (mentions of cumming inside), slight cockwarming, mild praise kink ("good girl"), use of dirty talk, mentions of squirting and unproctected sex (wrap that boner !!) preview: You never expected to find yourself locking horns with Yoon Jeonghan, the nation’s beloved leading man. Being cast as the second lead was bad enough, but sharing the screen—and off-camera moments—with him tests every ounce of your patience. Jeonghan is intoxicating, infuriating, and far too good at blurring the lines between acting and reality. His touch lingers longer than it should, his whispers send shivers down your spine, and his smirk hides secrets you’re desperate to uncover. But behind the glamour lies a dark game of power, manipulation, and obsession that threatens to unravel everything you’ve worked for. It was never just about the spotlight—or even revenge. Now, every glance, every word, and every forbidden kiss carries consequences neither of you are ready to face. wc: 7773 a/n: im sorry it took me months to finish ! i hope i make it up to you by this, and please do enjoy. (i write too many stuffs before getting to the real stuffs. sorry not sorry lmao) THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING !

"CUT!" the director's voice boomed across the set, signaling the end of the take. Jeonghan pulled back from the female lead, Hye-soo, his face carefully neutral despite the exhaustion tugging at his features. He tried not to grimace as he stepped away, running a hand through his styled hair. The bright lights, the endless retakes, and the physical closeness—it was all too much for him today.

On the sidelines, you sat perched on a folding chair, clapping your hands softly in a show of support. "Good work!" you called out cheerfully, your voice cutting through the hum of the bustling set. You'd wrapped your own scene hours ago, but instead of heading home to rest, you stayed to watch him.

Jeonghan noticed you immediately. It didn't matter that there were dozens of people milling about—his gaze found yours like a magnet. And for the first time all day, he felt a flicker of relief. If only you were the female lead. If only it were you standing in front of the camera with him, sharing the screen and the story. The thought had crossed his mind far too often, lingering in ways he wasn't sure he could hide anymore.

He walked toward you, his usual easygoing smile faltering at the edges. It was subtle, but you caught it. Even through his perfectly sculpted persona, you could tell he wasn't feeling his best.

"You did well," you said when he reached you, your voice softer now. Your hand lightly brushed against his as you stood, the gesture so casual and natural that no one else might have noticed. But he did.

Jeonghan looked at you, his heart thudding a little harder at the warmth in your expression. You were smiling sweeter than usual—just a tiny shift, but enough to send his thoughts spinning. He knew that look, the way your eyes sparkled when you wanted something.

Without saying a word, he took your hand, holding it for just a second longer than necessary before his lips curved into a faint smirk. "You're too nice to me," he teased lightly, though his voice was quieter than usual.

"You deserve it," you replied simply, squeezing his hand.

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, leaning just enough so that your faces were closer. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "You're the main character of my life," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The confession hung in the air, delicate and fragile, but he didn't give you the chance to respond. Instead, he gently tugged you by the wrist, leading you toward a nearby hallway where the noise of the set faded into the background.

He pushed open the door to an empty dressing room and pulled you inside, your lips quirked into a small grin as you cast a glance over your shoulder. There, just outside the hallway, you caught sight of Hye-soo, her expression a mixture of irritation and disbelief as she watched Jeonghan whisk you away, before he shut the door softly behind you. 

The satisfaction was instant, your grin widening as you turned your attention back to Jeonghan. His eyes searched yours, an unspoken question lingering in their depths.

"Someone's jealous," you whispered, a playful lilt in your tone.

"Let her be," Jeonghan replied, his gaze dropping briefly to where your hand still rested against his arm. "I only care about you."

Jeonghan caught your lips into a deep, deep kiss. His hands finding your waist, kissing you hungrily like he's never before. You gladly let him, kissing back with precision, catching up with his desperate kisses.

Four months ago, the welcoming party was an elaborate spectacle where actors who are casted and crews, glittering lights and clinking glasses, an unspoken contest of charisma and charm playing out in every corner of the opulent ballroom. Jeonghan stood near the director, his expression schooled into polite interest as Hye-soo's melodic laughter rang out beside him. She had been holding court all evening, effortlessly drawing attention to herself, her hand resting possessively on Jeonghan's arm like it was her rightful place.

But Jeonghan barely noticed her.

From the moment you stepped into the room, late enough to make an entrance but not so late as to be rude, his attention was a prisoner to your presence. You hadn't done anything dramatic—there was no sweeping motion or grand gesture. It was simply the way you carried yourself. The flow of your dress, the way it seemed to move with you like an extension of your being. The quiet confidence in your steps, your head held high but your smile understated, as if you knew you didn't need to demand attention; it came to you on its own.

It wasn't just beauty—though you had that in spades. It was something deeper, more magnetic. A natural ease, the kind of charisma that didn't shout for recognition but instead whispered for it, softly and irresistibly.

Jeonghan felt it before he could stop himself—the tightening of his chest, the way his eyes betrayed him by seeking you out even as Hye-soo leaned closer, brushing her arm against his as she spoke. He forced a polite laugh, nodding at whatever she was saying, but his focus was across the room.

And you, as if sensing his gaze, looked up.

Your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, the noise of the ballroom faded into nothingness. You didn't smile right away; you just held his gaze, the faintest quirk of your lips following as though you knew exactly what you were doing to him. It was infuriating, how effortlessly you dismantled his composure with nothing but a look.

Hye-soo's hand on his arm tightened, her laugh becoming just a touch louder as if trying to pull him back. But Jeonghan's thoughts were already elsewhere, his mind circling a question that had been nagging him since the cast list was announced.

Why were you the second lead?

You had everything—beauty that could silence a room, talent that elevated every scene you touched, and a presence so commanding it didn't just complement a story; it shaped it. He'd even asked the director about it once, in a moment of unguarded curiosity.

"She's too perfect," the director had said, a bemused smile on his face. "We needed someone who could challenge stereotypes. Beauty isn't everything, and we're trying to show that. It's about balance, Jeonghan. She's our second lead because she'll redefine what it means to be one."

At the time, Jeonghan had accepted the explanation. It even made sense—logically. But now, watching you glide through the room like you owned it, he couldn't shake the thought that the story needed you at its heart.

As the evening wore on, his fascination deepened. He wasn't the only one who noticed you, of course. By the time he'd taken a sip of his champagne, you were already surrounded. First, a well-known photographer approached, gesturing animatedly as you listened with that soft, knowing smile of yours. Then a manager from a major modeling agency joined the conversation, their posture deferential despite their stature in the industry.

You handled it all with ease, laughing lightly here, tilting your head thoughtfully there, your charisma weaving a web that no one seemed able to resist. Jeonghan felt something strange stir within him—a mixture of pride, admiration, and something heavier, something unfamiliar.

"You should go talk to her," the director said suddenly, his voice breaking through Jeonghan's thoughts.

Jeonghan blinked, glancing at the older man. "What?"

"You've been staring all night," the director said with a chuckle, clapping him on the shoulder. "Might as well make an introduction."

Before Jeonghan could protest, the director was already leading him across the room. Hye-soo followed, her expression tight as she trailed behind, her earlier ease replaced with something sharper.

When they reached you, the director spoke your name warmly, introducing Jeonghan with a familiarity that suggested he'd been waiting for this moment. You turned to face Jeonghan fully, and for the second time that night, his world narrowed to just you.

"It's nice to finally meet you," you said, your voice smooth and melodic, the kind that lingered in the air even after the words had faded.

Jeonghan opened his mouth to respond, but for a brief, embarrassing moment, nothing came out. You smiled at that, a real smile this time, not the polite ones you'd been giving all evening. It was a little crooked, a little playful, and it hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

"Likewise," he managed, his voice quieter than intended.

Hye-soo stepped forward then, her smile a touch too bright, her hand reaching out to touch your arm as she offered some polite compliment. You accepted it graciously, your demeanor unchanging, but Jeonghan saw the way your eyes flickered—sharp, assessing, taking in every detail of her performance.

He didn't know what passed between you in that silent exchange, but when your gaze shifted back to him, something about your expression had changed. It was softer, more amused, like you'd already decided he wasn't worth sharing.

And for the first time that night, Jeonghan smiled—a real one, small and almost shy, but real. Because for reasons he couldn't yet explain, he wanted nothing more than to be worthy of the attention you'd just given him.

The door to the dressing room clicked shut behind you, the muffled chaos of the set fading into a distant hum. Jeonghan's gaze was dark and focused, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more raw, more consuming. You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips claimed yours with a fervor that sent your head spinning.

It was a whirlwind—a blur of heat and longing. His fingers slid under the fabric of your top, skimming the bare skin beneath, his touch both electrifying and soothing. You gasped against his lips, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as your knees threatened to give out. Jeonghan was gorgeous, unbearably so, and in moments like these, he felt almost unreal.

Your heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing in your ears. It was impossible to reconcile this moment with the doubts you'd carried when you first met him. Back then, you thought he'd barely notice you, that someone like Jeonghan—dazzling, untouchable—would never look at you twice. Yet here you were, his hands roaming your body like he couldn't get enough, his lips moving against yours like you were the air he needed to breathe.

You broke away for a moment, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself. But Jeonghan didn't let you get far. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you back as his lips hovered over yours, the soft warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

"I can't let her lips stay on mine too long," he murmured, his voice low and rough, a stark contrast to the teasing words. His nose brushed against yours as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing yours lightly before retreating just enough to make you ache for more.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted his face toward yours. "I'll wash them off for you, my love," you whispered, your voice thick with both playfulness and desire. The words barely had time to settle between you before you captured his lips again, pulling him into a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, more desperate than before.

Your tongues tangled in a rhythm that felt instinctual, a dance of passion and unspoken words. His hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of your spine, brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You shivered under his touch, your body pressing closer to his as if proximity alone could satisfy the yearning that consumed you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Jeonghan whispered against your lips, his voice trembling just enough to reveal the depth of his emotions. His hands found your hips, gripping them firmly as his forehead pressed against yours. "You drive me insane."

A blush crept up your neck, heat pooling in your chest as you tried to catch your breath. "I could say the same about you," you replied, your voice breathless but steady, your eyes searching his. "You're impossible."

He smirked, that familiar glint of mischief returning to his gaze. "Impossible, huh?" His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, his hands slipping to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. "You're the one who walked into my life and flipped everything upside down."

You wanted to respond, to tease him back, but the intensity in his eyes silenced you. It was a look that made your chest tighten, a look that spoke of feelings too complex to put into words. So instead, you kissed him again, pouring everything you couldn't say into the way your lips moved against his, the way your hands clung to him like he was your lifeline.

Minutes passed, maybe hours—it was impossible to tell. All you knew was the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the way his presence consumed every inch of your awareness. For a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. Not the set outside, not the chaos of your lives, not even the knowledge that this would complicate everything.

In this room, in his arms, it was just the two of you. And that was enough.

The two of you stepped out of the dressing room, the air between you still charged with the remnants of your stolen moment. Jeonghan's hair was slightly tousled, his lips swollen and redder than usual, while your soft pink lipstick was now smudged, leaving just enough evidence for the curious stares around the set. The whispers were immediate.

It didn't take long for someone to notice, and of course, it had to be Hye-soo. Her eyes darted between you and Jeonghan, narrowing with an intensity that made her look like she was plotting to leap and attack you. She clenched her jaw, her entire body radiating frustration. You, however, were perfectly unbothered.

Pausing mid-step, you turned to Jeonghan and tugged him gently by the arm, making him face you. With the utmost care (and an intentional touch of theatrics), you reached up to fix his disheveled hair.

"You're such a mess," you said playfully, brushing his bangs into place.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning down to your level as if he couldn't resist getting closer. "And whose fault is that?" he teased, swiping his thumb over your lips to clean up the smudged lipstick. The gesture was tender, but there was a flicker of something mischievous in his eyes as he added, "If you're trying to make a statement, you're doing a phenomenal job."

You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of Hye-soo, who looked seconds away from exploading. "Putting on a show?" Jeonghan whispered, his hands finding your waist like it was second nature.

"Maybe," you replied with a sly smile, purposefully glancing in Hye-soo's direction. The minute your gaze met hers, her expression darkened, and she stormed out of the studio with a huff loud enough to make the crew turn and stare.

Jeonghan chuckled lowly, watching her retreat. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, turning back to him with a lighthearted grin. "Honestly? This isn't even about her anymore. It's about us." You punctuated your words with a quick kiss to his cheek, then pulled away before he could pull you back in.

Just as Jeonghan opened his mouth to respond, the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the air. The two of you turned, and there stood the director, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowing in disapproval.

"Woah," Jeonghan said, feigning surprise as he chuckled nervously. "How long have you been standing there, sir?"

"Long enough," the director replied, visibly irritated. "You two shouldn't be doing this in the middle of the studio. Get a room, will you?"

You suppressed a laugh, but Jeonghan, ever the troublemaker, grinned and replied, "We already did."

Your elbow jabbed him sharply in the stomach before he could elaborate further. "Ow!" he yelped, doubling over slightly, though he was still smirking.

The director pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like a parent scolding unruly children. "Do you two have any idea how much trouble this could cause for the production? I can already see the headlines: 'Male lead Yoon Jeonghan and second lead Y/N caught in scandalous affair!'" His tone was exasperated, though slightly melodramatic.

That was the final straw—you burst out laughing, the sound bright and carefree, echoing through the studio. Jeonghan froze, his gaze softening as he watched you. His irritation melted away entirely, replaced by a warmth that made him forget anyone else existed.

Your laughter was infectious, and even the director blinked, momentarily disarmed. The entire crew, who had paused to watch the scene unfold, also seemed captivated. It wasn't just Jeonghan who adored you—you had the entire set under your spell.

Jeonghan caught the lingering stares from some of the staff and cast members, their admiration for you clear as day. His expression darkened almost comically, his gaze sweeping the room as if to warn everyone, Back off—she's mine.

Finally regaining his composure, the director shook his head. "You're impossible," he muttered. "If this blows up, I'm blaming you two."

Smiling sweetly, you clasped your hands together like a picture of innocence. "We'll make sure that never happens, our best director-nim," you said, your voice as soothing as a lullaby. Somehow, even the director, who moments ago had been fuming, softened under your charm.

Jeonghan leaned in, muttering under his breath just loud enough for you to hear, "You could get away with murder if you wanted to."

You bit back a grin, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "Only if you're my partner in crime."

The air outside the studio felt heavy, the crisp breeze doing little to soothe your frayed nerves. You excused yourself from Jeonghan and the director, feigning the need for a breath of fresh air when, in truth, you were looking for her—Hye-soo. She'd been haunting your thoughts ever since the shoot began, her presence always a bitter reminder of the tangled history you shared. You weren't sure what you expected from this conversation, but you had to try. You always had to try.

You found her near the corner of the lot, scrolling on her phone with an air of detachment. Her perfectly styled hair caught the golden light, making her look like the picture-perfect heroine she was cast to be. The sight of her still brought a pang of nostalgia, even after everything. For a moment, you hesitated. Was this worth it? Would she even listen?

"Hye-soo," you called out, your voice steady but soft.

She turned, her expression cool and guarded the moment she saw you. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone sharp enough to cut.

"I just want to talk," you replied, taking a cautious step forward. "Can we please—can we try to fix this? Whatever happened between us, I—"

"Fix this?" she scoffed, lowering her phone to give you her full attention. Her eyes blazed with an anger you hadn't expected. "You think you can fix this? After everything?"

"I've been trying to," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I've tried to reach out to you, to explain—"

"To explain what? That you're not guilty of anything? That you didn't go behind my back and let people pit us against each other?" She laughed bitterly. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't something you can just apologize for."

Your chest tightened, the weight of her words settling like a stone. "I never wanted any of that. I hated the comparisons, the rumors—it wasn't my fault. You were my best friend, Hye-soo. I didn't ask for any of this."

"And yet, here you are," she snapped, crossing her arms. "The second lead, with Jeonghan wrapped around your finger. Isn't that enough for you?"

Her words stung, but you held your ground. "This isn't about him. It's about us—about how we used to be. Don't you miss that?"

Hye-soo's expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of something soft and familiar crossing her face before it hardened again. "If you want to make it up to me," she said coldly, "then break up with him."

Her demand hit you like a slap. You stared at her, stunned, your heart racing as your blood began to boil. "That's not fair, and you know it," you said, your voice low and trembling with emotion.

"Fair?" she echoed, taking a step closer. "Nothing about this has ever been fair. You were handed everything—"

"I earned it!" you shot back, cutting her off. "You think my life has been easy? That I didn't work for every single thing I have? You know that's not true."

She glared at you, her jaw tightening before she turned on her heel and walked away without another word. You stood there, your chest heaving, your emotions swirling in a chaotic storm.

The memory of her retreating figure lingered as you stared into the distance, your hands balled into fists at your sides. The bitterness between you two hadn't always existed. Once upon a time, Hye-soo was your everything.

The flashback crept in like an unwelcome guest, bringing with it the bittersweet memory of your early days in the industry.

Back then, Hye-soo had been your anchor, your partner-in-crime. You two had been inseparable, bonded over sneaking snacks during strict diets and whispering secrets late into the night. She was the person you looked up to, admired, maybe even loved in a way that you didn't fully understand at the time.

She had always been magnetic—bright, charming, and full of life. It was impossible not to be drawn to her. And for a while, things had been perfect. Until the comparisons started.

It wasn't your fault. At least, that's what you told yourself. You couldn't control how the managers and producers favored you, how they praised your acting skills and visuals. But the more they built you up, the more they tore her down.

At first, Hye-soo acted like it didn't bother her. She'd laugh it off, telling you it was fine, that she didn't care. But you knew her too well. You saw the cracks in her facade, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes anymore.

You tried to confront her, to assure her that you didn't want the comparisons either, but the rumors had already started. Whispers about you sleeping with managers and producers to secure your roles spread like wildfire. It was cruel, baseless, and you hated every second of it. But the damage was done.

Hye-soo began pulling away, her warmth replaced by icy indifference. And then, when this project came along, you both fought for the spot. You knew she wanted the role for Jeonghan's sake—her feelings for him were no secret. But no amount of her family's wealth or influence could erase the connection you and Jeonghan had. Even as the second lead, you'd won a part of him that she never could.

The sound of footsteps snapped you back to the present. Turning, you saw Jeonghan approaching, his expression unreadable. He must have seen Hye-soo leaving—or rather, storming away.

He stopped in front of you, his gaze searching your face for answers. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise. "She doesn't want to talk."

Jeonghan's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't press. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm in silent comfort.

"I told you this would happen," you admitted quietly, your voice trembling. "That being with me would make everything worse."

Jeonghan shook his head, his gaze softening. "It's not your fault. None of this is."

For a moment, the weight of everything—the past, the present, the impossible tangle of emotions—felt a little lighter. With Jeonghan by your side, you felt a flicker of hope.

"She said I should break up with you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"And?" Jeonghan asked, his lips curving into a faint smile.

You looked at him, your heart aching with the intensity of how much you loved him. "That's not an option."

Jeonghan's smile deepened, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made the air around you feel a little less suffocating. He took a small step closer, his presence grounding you in a way you couldn't fully explain. "Good. Because she's not the one you need to be worrying about right now."

You let out a shaky breath, glancing down at the ground for a moment, trying to gather yourself. It was hard to look at Jeonghan without feeling both a sense of relief and a twinge of guilt. Hye-soo's words kept echoing in your mind—If you want to make it up to me, break up with him—but you had already made your choice.

Looking back up at him, you smiled faintly. "I don't know what I expected, honestly. She's changed. We've changed. I never thought it would come to this."

Jeonghan's fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch so gentle that it almost felt like a promise. "Sometimes people change, but that doesn't mean you have to. You're not the person she's trying to make you out to be. Don't let her take away your peace."

His words were like a balm for the wound Hye-soo had left. You swallowed, feeling the weight on your chest slowly lift. Jeonghan was right—this wasn't your fault. But the pain of losing Hye-soo, of watching the bond you once shared with her unravel, still cut deeply.

"It's just... hard, you know? I never wanted to lose her." You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't think I can keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not."

Jeonghan's eyes softened even further, and he placed both hands on your shoulders, steadying you. "You don't have to pretend with me. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You've got me, always."

For a moment, there was silence between you two. The weight of the past few months—the rumors, the lies, the rivalry, the betrayal—hung thick in the air, but Jeonghan's presence made it feel bearable. He wasn't just standing by you; he was anchoring you, in a way only he could.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly, his gaze not leaving yours. "The rumors, the truth... whatever you need to say, I'm here."

You swallowed again; your throat tight with the emotions you'd kept hidden for so long. "I don't want to drag you into it... but it feels like everything I've worked for has been overshadowed by rumors that I can't control. I've done everything by the book, Jeonghan. I've worked so hard to get here, and now it feels like everyone's just waiting for me to fall."

Jeonghan shook his head, his hands gently cupping your face as he forced you to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. I know who you are. I know what you've been through. And I know how much you've sacrificed to get to this point. Don't let anyone's words—especially hers—make you doubt that. You're not alone in this. I'm not going anywhere."

Tears welled in your eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let them fall. You didn't care. Not anymore. Not when Jeonghan was holding you like this, as if you mattered more than anything else in the world.

"I just... I feel like everything's falling apart," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Hye-soo, the rumors, even my own family. I don't know who to trust anymore."

Jeonghan's thumb gently wiped away a tear, his expression soft but unwavering. "You trust me. And I trust you."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the weight of everything seemed to melt away, if only for a moment. His words were like a quiet promise, a reassurance that despite all the chaos around you, there was one thing you could count on—him.

You finally opened your eyes again, meeting his gaze with renewed resolve. "I'm sorry, Jeonghan. For everything."

He smiled, the corners of his lips curving up in that familiar, reassuring way. "There's nothing to apologize for. We're in this together. You don't have to face it alone."

For a long moment, you simply stood there, enveloped in his warmth, the world outside fading away. Hye-soo, the rumors, the industry—they all seemed distant now. Because right here, in this moment, you had Jeonghan. And that was all that mattered.

A few days later, you found yourself once again in the studio, the weight of the past still lingering, but a quiet sense of peace settling within you. Jeonghan had been right there by your side every step of the way, offering unwavering support when things felt impossible.

The shoot was going smoother now, though the tension with Hye-soo was still palpable. She avoided you at every turn, and the coldness between you two lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge. But you no longer cared.

As you prepared for the next scene, Jeonghan leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. "You're amazing, you know that?"

You turned to face him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he said softly, his fingers brushing against your hand. "Don't ever forget that."

The connection between you two was undeniable. And in that moment, as you shared a quiet, knowing smile, you realized that everything else could fall away—but this, this bond, was something that would never break.

The sound of bustling voices fades as you and Jeonghan slip away from the chaos of the shoot, finding yourselves in a secluded, dimly lit lounge area. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of unsaid words, the quiet hum of the room pressing down on you both. You're sitting close on the couch, but the space between you seems like miles. The room smells faintly of leather and wood, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air from where Jeonghan leans in a little too close.

You both start talking about the shoot, trying to keep things light, but the tension is palpable. It's as if every word you speak makes the air thicker, more suffocating. You catch him glancing at your lips a few too many times, but each time you meet his gaze, you notice how his eyes darken, his pupils dilating just a little. The subtle but undeniable spark between you two has always been there. Today, it's dangerously close to setting everything on fire.

You reach for your glass of water, your hand brushing against his as you both move at the same time. It's subtle. An innocent touch. But the moment your skin makes contact with his, everything changes.

His fingers freeze for a split second, the warmth from his hand making your skin burn. You pull away instinctively, but the damage has already been done. The soft touch, the heat from his hand, lingers on your skin like an invisible brand. You swear you can still feel it even though the touch is long gone. Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching slightly in your throat as you glance up to meet his gaze.

His hand is still hovering near where you touched. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, as if trying to regain control of the situation. His lips part slightly as if he's about to say something, but no words come out. Instead, there's just a sharp, silent acknowledgment in his eyes.

The tension between you two is unbearable now.

Jeonghan shifts slightly in his seat, and his gaze flicks down to your lips for a fraction of a second. It's as if he can't help it. He swallows hard, his jaw tightening. It's clear he's fighting something—fighting the urge to pull you in, to kiss you, to close the space between you that feels too far apart.

You don't move, frozen in the moment, feeling your body heat up in ways you hadn't expected. His breath hitches as he leans just a little closer, his body language unmistakable. You can't ignore it any longer. The undeniable pull between you two has taken on a life of its own, and you're both powerless to resist it.

"Jeonghan..." You whisper his name like it's a question, but it comes out more like an invitation.

His breath catches again, his lips barely an inch from your ear. You feel the heat of his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him, as he leans in even further, his breath hot against your skin. His lips graze the shell of your ear as he whispers softly, "Do you feel it too?" His voice is low, barely a whisper, but it sends a thrill through you.

You don't answer him with words. Instead, you let your body answer for you, shifting slightly toward him, tilting your head back just enough to give him the opening he's been waiting for.

Jeonghan's lips brush against your neck, soft at first, but with a slow, deliberate pressure that sends shivers down your spine. He's testing the waters, sensing the way your body reacts to his touch, and it's driving you crazy. 

He grabs the glass of water you were holding, placing it back on the table without pulling away from you or your body.

His hand moves from the edge of the couch where it had been resting, coming to rest on your thigh. He doesn't move it at first, just leaves it there, the pressure of his hand causing your skin to burn beneath the fabric. It's a gentle touch, but you feel it deep in your core, your body reacting almost involuntarily.

You shift slightly, your breath quickening as you feel him slowly inch his hand further up your thigh, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there. Every small movement from him feels like an invitation, and you can't resist anymore. You lean forward just slightly, your lips finding his in a kiss that's soft at first but quickly grows deeper, more desperate.

His hand slides from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you harder. You can taste the urgency on his lips, the need that's been building for far too long now.

His other hand moves to the back of your neck, threading through your hair and gently pulling your head back, exposing your throat to him. His lips follow, trailing soft kisses down your neck, before they return to your lips in another searing kiss.

You can feel his heart beating against your chest, and you can't help but want more, the desire building between you two like a slow burn that's finally breaking through.

Jeonghan's lips pull away from yours for a brief moment, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. It's a question, but his eyes already tell you he's certain of the answer. He doesn't need to hear the words; he can see it in your eyes, the way you're looking at him, the way you're holding him closer.

You nod, your fingers gripping his shirt as you pull him back toward you. Your lips meet again, this time more fiercely, more urgently. You're both hungry for each other, the restraint that had held you back now gone.

Jeonghan's hands are everywhere—on your back, your hips, your legs. His touch is both gentle and possessive, as if he wants to savor every inch of you but also claim you as his own. You can't help but respond to his every move, every touch, your body betraying you as you lean into him, giving him more of yourself.

His lips find their way back to your neck, trailing kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbone. The way his lips feel against your skin, the pressure of his touch, sends waves of pleasure through you. His hand moves lower, resting on your waist before slipping under your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

You gasp as his hand moves higher up to the inner of your thighs, and you spread your legs open, his touch insistent but slow, savoring every moment. His lips return to yours, and the kiss deepens, filled with the hunger and need that you've both been holding back for far too long.

He moves your skirt up, now feeling the wetness of your underwear. You muffled in between kisses, with Jeonghan swallowing your every moans. He pulled the fabric off your legs and buried his fingers deep into your cunt, his thumb running circles on your clit. 

You shivered under his touch, his fingers working to stretch your already soaked cunt. He fucked your pussy with his fingers well that you were squirming under his touch, sounds escaping from your lips louder. 

Jeonghan had to shut you up with him kissing your lips. Once you reached your high, cumming all over his fingers, he unbuttons his pants down and you can see the tip of his cock glimmering with precum. "I'm going to put it in, stay quiet this time."

You swallowed hard before nodding. He placed his cock on your clit, giving it a few rubbing before slowly inserting it fully in your cunt. "F- fuck..." He grunted, his head spinning because the way he slid in you almost too easily was too hard to miss. You covered your mouth, not risking being caught by someone again like the last time.

"J- Just put it in," you muffled out, but Jeonghan didn't listen. 

"Can't have you begging me to stop later," he whispered, his fingers stretching you out, making it impossible to hold out your moans. Jeonghan just had to kiss your sounds—as much as he wants to hear you make those sounds of pleasure, he just can't. Well, not at a public space like this. It's possible that someone will eventually step in.

As he pulled his fingers out, he pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to be freed. It was long, and hard as ever. Jeonghan places the tip of his cock on your clit, rubbing it in your pussy before entering you fully. 

You moaned, with Jeonghan trying to quiet you down. "Shhh... Damn it."

"I- W- wait," you muffled, your cunt twitching on his cock. "I can't." Jeonghan replied, moving his hips in slow thrusts. "Your walls are swallowing me whole. You're awesome."

His hips moved a little faster this time. You were breathless. Jeonghan has you pinned down on the couch, fucking you now roughly while you hold back the sounds from coming out of your mouth. 

The sound of skin slapping, your pussy squirming and squelching when you meet his hard thrusts, and muffled moans filling the room. When your walls started to tighten around his dick, that's when he lets out grunts.

Jeonghan thrusted in your cunt, burying himself inside you like never before. He was fighting hard to meet his highs, and yours too. 

You cum all over his dick before him, but that wasn't enough for him to pull away. He ran circles on your clit, his tongue all over your neck as he finally reaches his own high. 

Cumming, he lifted your shirt as he took his hot load on your stomach. Your cunt glistened with your own fluids.

"You're amazing," Jeonghan says as he looked at the quivering mess underneath him. Your hair disheveled, cheeks all red looking so pretty like that.

You pushed him before straddling on his lap. "Let me take care of you," you muttered, kissing him immediately right afterwards, leaving him no room to respond.

Him already hard cock springs up again and leaks with precum as you fucked him with your soft thighs. His cock twitching as you rocked your hips back in forth. Rubbing yourself on his cock, hips shaking as you overstimulate yourself above him. 

And that's when you finally entered him. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Jeonghan looked at you with awe.

He lifted your shirt, unclipped your bra as he finds your nipples, kissing and nipping on the sensitive skin there, making you let out a moan. He didn't stop you this time. Who cares if you get caught.

You finally bounced on him, making Jeonghan pant breathlessly. His eyes focused on the way your tits were bouncing before him so sinfully—he loved how you took control over him. Especially when he knew you wouldn't do something like this in a public space.

Jeonghan kissed your lips as you grind yourself further into his cock, reaching the depths of heaven. Jeonghan held your hips in place before cumming inside you, the mix of your cum and his blending perfectly as it coated your walls. 

Your head fell down on Jeonghan's shoulder. Catching your breath as he clips your bra back, cleaning your messy body. His fingers moving to the soft of your hair as if to soothe you off. 

"You did well," he whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek. He didn't let you pull away from his cock just yet. He wanted to feel your warmth covering his cock. Just by the feeling of your gummy, hot pussy made him hard again, and your tried to squirm away, but Jeonghan didn't let you.

He rocked your hips slowly as he grunted with lust. Moaning as he felt you pussy twitching. "J- Jeonghan... Wait..." You called out, finding his shoulder to bite into his shoulder as he moves you a little faster now.

"Last... one..." He muttered; his breathing heavy as he slides in your cunt a little rougher. 

With a few more pounds and squirms, he finally cums in you again, with you passing out on his arms right after you squirted three times on his cock.

The room was heavy with the aftermath of passion, the air thick with warmth and the lingering scent of Jeonghan's cologne mixed with your own. Your body was draped against him, utterly spent, your breathing shallow as you rested in his arms. His hands traced lazy patterns along your bare back, his touch possessive, yet oddly tender. You felt the faint thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

Jeonghan, finally contended, ran his fingers through your hair, lulling you deeper to sleep as he uses your pussy to warm his cock. 

You barely registered his quiet chuckle, the sound sending a faint shiver down your spine. Your mind was hazy, the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. You were vaguely aware of his body still connected to yours, his warmth anchoring you as your consciousness started to slip away.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice low and laced with something darker, something triumphant. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he studied you with an intensity that made your skin prickle, even in your half-dazed state.

You stirred faintly, murmuring something incoherent, but Jeonghan only smiled. "Shh," he cooed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You've worked so hard, my love. Rest now."

And you did, succumbing to the pull of sleep, blissfully unaware of the way his gaze shifted, how his expression turned from soft affection to something far more sinister.

The soft click of a door opening pulled Jeonghan's attention, though he didn't move. He didn't need to. He knew exactly who it was.

"Good job, Hyesoo," he called out casually, his voice smooth and unbothered. His fingers skimmed along your bare skin one last time before resting on your hip, his touch possessive as he glanced up.

Hyesoo stepped into the room, her face a carefully constructed mask of indifference. In her hands was a camera, and she held it out to him silently. Jeonghan smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took it, already eager to see the results.

"She's full of my scent," he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent as his gaze shifted back to your sleeping form. His pupils dilated as he took in every detail of you—the flush on your cheeks, the marks he'd left on your skin, the way your body was still connected to his, as if even in unconsciousness, you belonged to him. "I'll save this picture in my head forever."

Hyesoo said nothing, her jaw tightening slightly as she turned away. She didn't need to watch him replay the footage; she already knew what was there. She had filmed it herself, after all. Jeonghan's obsession was no secret to her—it never had been. And yet, she stayed by his side, playing her role in his elaborate scheme.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, his free hand absently brushing over your arm as he scrolled through the clips. Each one was a masterpiece to him, a testament to his control, his possession of you. He watched them over and over, his expression shifting between adoration and something far darker.

"You're mine," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. The words were both a promise and a declaration, one he had ensured would be true no matter what.

Jeonghan's smirk deepened as he reviewed the footage one last time before setting the camera aside. Everything had gone exactly as he had planned.

From the moment he saw you, he had known you were meant to be his. But he also knew you wouldn't come to him willingly, not at first. So, he orchestrated everything—down to the finest detail.

Hyesoo had been a key player, pretending to be your friend, earning your trust only to betray it when the time was right. The rumors about you? All planted. The whispers about your connections to the higher-ups, the way people started to question your integrity—it had all been his doing. He needed you vulnerable, isolated, desperate enough to turn to him.

And it had worked. Every step, every move, had brought you closer to this moment. To him.

Even your role as the second lead in the film had been a calculated choice. He had pushed for it, knowing it would keep you close, knowing it would force you to rely on him as the chaos of the industry swirled around you.

"You really are perfect," he murmured, his fingers brushing over your cheek. "Even better than I imagined."

Hyesoo shifted uncomfortably in the corner of the room, her arms crossed as she avoided his gaze. She had agreed to help him, but even she hadn't anticipated the extent of his obsession. Watching it unfold, seeing the lengths he was willing to go—it made her stomach twist.

But she stayed silent. She always did.

Jeonghan glanced up at her, his smile sharp. "You've done well, Hyesoo," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Don't think I've forgotten how valuable you've been to me."

Hyesoo's jaw tightened, but she nodded, her expression betraying nothing. She knew better than to challenge him. Not when he held all the power.

As you slept peacefully in his arms, Jeonghan allowed himself a moment of indulgence. He had won. Everything he had ever wanted was now his.

And he wasn't about to let you go.

Not now. Not ever.

a/n: thank you for reading. the plot isnt plotting cause like.. wtf did i just do? i shouldve just put a smut with no actual plot lmao. anyhow i hope reader likes it ! lmk if i missed a few waqrnings or what i should add on the tags/genre. ty ! LY! ᓚᘏᗢ

also, huge thank you for @ririesna who requested for this fanfic idea (actor x actor). without her req, i wouldnt be able to post anything at all. im open for requests, if you want to leave some, i will be posting.

i just made a taglist for oneshots (general groups)? click this link if you want to be added ;)

[revasserium]

do you right series/multiple parts for zoro opla X reader. If you do could you write something angsty n maybe reader was a part the butlers crew before n stuff. A lot of angst but also fluff n cute zoro X reader moments. Thxxx

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

catch.

opla!zoro; 9,224 words; fem!reader, no "y/n", slowburn, disgruntled companions?? to lovers, fluff and banter, so much banter, nicknames ("kitten", "pretty boy"), semi canon-compliant, tiny bit post!opla, more plot than not

summary: zoro calls reader "kitten", reader calls him "pretty boy" back. story ensues.

a/n: ha. i have no excuses for this... it's not a series/multipart, but i do hope that the sheer length of it kinda makes up for that lol; tagging @dira333 and @bby-deerling

The first time he sees you, it is over daggers and bared teeth, a hiss working up your throat as you glare at him from the balcony of Kaya’s expansive estate.

“You’re gonna need a lot more than that, kitten.” Zoro’s smirk goes slanted as you leap off the thin railings to land noiselessly before him, your curved daggers striking against the edge of his swords with a metallic spray of sparks.

His smirk fades after that, replaced by a wild, jagged grin as he swings both swords around his body in a wide arc — but you’re backflipping up, too high in the air to be fully natural, your feet landing perfectly on the backs of his blades before you’re kicking off again, forcing the blades down and throwing him off balance.

“I highly doubt it,” you bite out, skimming by his cheek with a savage smile as he jerks to the side just in time to avoid having his face split open. But you whip back around and it’s all he can do to parry your blow.

The discordant clang of metal on metal rings out in the otherwise silent room as you both flicker around each other, him as steady as the tide, you as quick as the flutter of a sparrow’s wing.

“Where was that fake butler hiding you, kitten? You’re much better than those other two —” Zoro grunts as he narrows his eyes, digging in his heels as he parries another flurry of your quicksilver blows. Your lips curl in contempt as you swipe for his stomach and catch on the edge of his white-hilted blade.

“He wasn’t hiding me anywhere —”

The world blurs in a whirlwind of flashing metal — it ends with you hissing as you find you and Zoro on opposite ends of the cavernous room, amidst wood splinters and slivers of shredded upholstery. There’s a thin slash oozing blood down the side of his face and a long gash along your arm where his sword had nicked your bicep.

“Then why’re you with him?” Zoro asks, grimacing as he wipes blood from his cheek.

“Because, pretty boy,” you smirk at the way his eyes narrow, “the old tomcat owes me something. And I never forget a debt.”

Zoro’s eyebrow quirks, and for a single second, you can see the cogs turning behind his darkened eyes, “So… you’re only with him until he pays you.”

You grin, Cheshire wide, and a second later, you’re right in front of him, pressing up into his personal space with a finger trailing up the length of his neck. Zoro’s breath catches, and he’s acutely aware of just how open he’d been, how easily you might’ve decided to end his life had you replaced your finger with the tip of one of your curve-bellied daggers.

“That… and I happen to enjoy slicing things up, y’see…” your voice is syrup sweet and sharp as poison even as he jerks away from you, instinct thrusting his swords forward before he can stop himself. But you’re already dancing away with a soft, ringing laugh, shaking your head.

“Gonna have to be faster than that if you wanna catch me… pretty boy.”

You slink into the shadows, giggling even as Zoro grimaces and tries to chase after you, slashing at whispers and shapes in the dark. He makes it all the way down the hallway before Luffy’s voice catches his attention and he doubles back with a final look over his shoulder, an unsatisfied knot tied tight in his stomach.

The second time you meet, it’s over a barrel of dried sardines.

“We pick up another stray?” Zoro asks, frowning as you grin cheekily down at him from the bow of the Merry. He could imagine the way your ears might flick if you had them, the way your invisible tail might twitch from side to side, snide and all too satisfied.

“Yeah! Didn’t I tell you? She’s coming with us!” Luffy grins wide as he climbs up onto their new ship, giving you a hard pat on the back, “Welcome to the Straw Hat Crew!”

“Thanks, Cap!” you smile, slipping off the railings to help with the extra supplies.

Nami sighs as she joins Zoro on the docks, “Sad, desperate souls, like I said — but hey, at least she helped us escape.”

Zoro frowns, “She did?”

Nami rolls her eyes, “Who do you think undid all those locks on the metal shutters from the outside? Geez…”

Zoro grunts, catching another barrel of dried food as Nami tosses it up toward him.

After that, things… do not get better. You’re too quiet, too quick, and Zoro can never quite tell when you mean what you say or if you ever say what you mean. Your laughter sends shivers down his back, and he finds himself watching you, even when he doesn’t mean to.

By the time you’ve all reached the Baratie, it’s become second nature for him to keep his eyes trained on you, to take stock of where you are, to seek you out the first thing after he wakes and the last thing before he sleeps.

“Ah — apologies madam I didn’t see you there —” Sanji smarms as Nami’s eyebrows inch up her forehead. You bite back a grin as Zoro scoffs to your right.

“And… for you?” when Sanji finally turns his eyes onto you, you’re ready for him, leaning forward, your tongue slipping languorously across your bottom lip as you peer up at him from beneath your thick lashes.

“Got any Déesse? Ah, but you must have — an establishment as fine as this?”

Sanji takes a long breath; Zoro feels the air turn sour in his lungs.

“Of course we do — a woman of taste, hm? And… for the rest of you?” Sanji’s voice flatlines as he looks over the rest of the crew.

Zoro snorts, rolling his eyes, “A beer for me and… a few for my friends.”

Sanji shoots a curt nod his way before recounting the table’s orders, “A few beers, a milk —” he dips his head in Luffy’s direction, “a normal water in a normal glass,” a smile at Nami, “and… a bottle of Déesse — any preference on year, miss?” He twinkles in your direction.

“Oh… surprise me.”

Sanji sweeps into a theatrical bow, “Right away,” before gliding away from the table.

Everyone starts talking all at once —

“Why’re you ‘miss’ but I’m ‘madam?’”

“Great fighter, that guy — did you see him roundhouse that other guy in the face —”

“Wow… don’t tell me that worked on you?” Zoro scoffs as he turns to look at you.

You shrug, “Sometimes, it pays to meet people on their level, hm?” Then, your smile turns saccharine as you tilt your head, eyes flickering towards the triplet of swords caught in the small gap between the plush seats and the pillar to Zoro’s right.

“Right. Whatever.” His lip curls. Nami sighs, leaning her head back against the studded velvet seat backs.

“The two of you are gonna be the death of us…” she muses, laughing as you curl back into your seat with an exaggerated pout and Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, feeling heat crest up into his cheeks.

And later, it’s you who tries the hardest to talk him out of his duel with Mihawk, a dull, feline glint to your eyes as you glare at him from across the wide kitchen counter —

“You couldn’t even beat me in single combat — what makes you think you’d be able to best Dracule Mihawk, huh?!”

Zoro snarls as he rounds on you, “It’s not like I was really trying.”

“Seemed like you were doing a lot more than trying to me!”

“You were the one who ran away.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t have a death wish!”

“So you admit that you would’ve lost to me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits as you hiss, “Yes, just like you’ll lose if you go through with this.”

A muscle feathers in Zoro’s jaw as he slowly peels his eyes away from you and turns back to the methodical work of polishing his swords.

Later that night, you find him sitting in the Merry’s kitchen with his eyes closed, arms crossed, his swords lined up just so on the suspended table in front of him.

“You can stop sulking. I know you’re there.” He opens a single eye to peer at you as you melt out of the shadows near the door, your own arms knitted tight across your chest.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I’m meditating.” His eyes slip back closed.

You leap deftly onto the table and cross your legs, looking down at his row of swords.

“You’ll need more than a good meditation session to beat that old hawk.”

Zoro’s eyes snap open, his words taking on a hard, metallic edge, “What would you know about it?”

Your grin is crescent moon sharp as you tilt your head; you reach forward as if to tap a finger against the sheath of one of his swords. There’s a dull thump as Zoro makes to tug the sword away, but a second later, you’ve got his wrist pinned to the table’s marred surface. Your face is half an inch away from his and he can taste the heat of your breath on his lips.

“See? Not nearly fast enough,” you tut, still grinning as Zoro yanks his arm away.

“If you’re trying to change my mind, you’re doin’ a shit job.”

“No,” you sigh, jumping off the table, your feet eerily silent as always. You make it all the way to the door before turning to glance at Zoro over your shoulder. There’s an inscrutable look on his face as he watches you, and you allow him one last, little smile.

“I just… thought you should be well-rested for your own execution.”

The next morning dawns too bright, too early, the sky too blue and perfect. It’s a blood-hungry day, so your grandmother used to say, the kind of day that aches for disaster. You shiver as you walk silently behind Usopp and Luffy, trailing in Zoro’s shadow as he makes his solemn way to the docks to face Mihawk.

There’s a quick exchange of words before Mihawk’s eyes slide onto you; the faint upward tick of his eyebrow is the only indication you get that he recognizes you. But then, he’s cocking his head, and musing aloud —

“They say it’s good luck to have a cat on a pirate ship, but I’m afraid this one won’t do you any good today, Roronoa Zoro.”

“Oh god… he’s really doing this, isn’t he?” Nami’s hand slips into yours, squeezing tight, her voice nothing more than a terrified whisper.

You give a brief nod, squeezing back. On your other side, Usopp swallows hard, but Luffy doesn’t seem all that worried.

It’s a quick, brutal, and decisive fight, but you watch as Mihawk pulls back at the last second, Yoru slicing through the air, much slower and softer than you knew it could. Nevertheless, Zoro’s blood splatters the creaking wood beams below as he collapses. You feel your lungs slowly calcifying as everyone rushes to Zoro’s side but you stand there, frozen, the world tunneling around you, the wild thumping of your heart echoing in your ears as Mihawk slates you a single look before turning and strolling off back toward the Baratie.

You slip away in the chaos of everyone trying to get Zoro back onto the ship.

“Come to seek revenge for your little boyfriend?” Mihawk asks, casually leaning up against the near-empty bar in the Baratie’s mouth.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you reply, voice clipped. Your fingers are curled into fists at your side, nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Mihawk gives you a single once-over before tutting.

“I see you’ve been sharpening your claws.”

“I see you haven’t,” you bite back. Mihawk rolls his eyes.

“Dear, dear — if even you’ve noticed something then I really am getting rusty. Though it has been hard to find a good sparring partner ever since Shanks lost his arm. Careless man.”

“Why’d you really let him live?”

Mihawk pauses in his rather thorough inspection of his nails to look up at you, lips twitching.

“I meant what I said — the world needs a few more wildcards and… I have a feeling he’ll be coming to find me soon enough.”

“You don’t take on students.” You don’t quite manage to keep the bitterness from your voice even as Mihawk shrugs.

“Just because I haven’t before, doesn’t mean I won’t ever. Now run along — I think your little swordsman friend might need some help, hm?”

You open your mouth to argue, but you hear the distinct sounds of Luffy’s voice echoing out from the kitchen, high and desperate, followed by the base rumble of Zeff’s voice. You slink into the kitchen between the flapping doors, watching as Sanji scrambles to gather Zeff’s knives.

“I’ll get the fish,” you offer, making nearly everyone jump as you reach for the freezer box.

No one has the time to ask any more questions as Luffy leads the way back to the Merry.

Nami’s eyes are wide and over-bright when you set the yellowtail on the table next to Zeff, and the whole room watches with bated breath as the old chef starts to work. Wordlessly, you tug out the large curved needles and place them at his elbow. He spares you a grateful grunt as he grabs them.

You take three steps back, letting out a long breath as you press your back to the cool wood of the doorframe, watching as Zeff stitches Zoro back together.

You spend the next two and a half days curled up in the small chair next to Nami’s bed, dozing every so often, at other times humming, or keeping still as Nami, Usopp, and Luffy take their turns next to Zoro’s sleeping form as well. You’re reciting a childhood nursery rhyme when Zoro finally wakes up.

“I thought cats were supposed to be quiet…”

“— and all the king's horses and all the king’s men — oh… you’re awake.”

“What about the king’s horses and men?” Zoro’s voice is thick and gravelly from disuse, but there’s that familiar twist to his mouth as he turns slightly to blink blearily up at you.

“It… it doesn’t matter — I should go tell Luffy —”

“No, finish the story, kitten.”

Your voice catches in your chest, and after a second, you sigh, dropping back into your seat with a resigned little laugh.

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men… couldn’t put Humpty back together again.”

Zoro hums, “Wow, cheerful little kitten, aren’t you? You always pick such nice things to say at a sick person’s bedside?”

“No, just the ones that really deserve it.”

Zoro laughs, the sound a base rumble that makes him wince, his hand shooting up to clutch at his chest. You lurch forward, catching yourself before you actually touch him, hovering there as Zoro opens his eyes and a strained sort of silence thickens in the air around you.

Like this, you’re acutely aware of the heat rising off of Zoro’s skin, the fact that his shirt is still pulled open to accommodate the thick bandages wrapped around his torso, the taut skin of his stomach, flexing as he takes in shallow breaths. Like this, you can count the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and see the pinprick black holes threatening to take over his eyes as they dilate.

It isn’t till you both hear the clatter of footsteps and Usopp flings himself into the room that you jerk back, blinking as Usopp gasps for breath, gesticulating wildly, rambling about Luffy and fishmen and a fight that’s broken out at the Baratie.

You glance down at Zoro, who sighs, letting his eyes fall shut.

“Go.”

“You stay put.”

“Right, like I’m goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

Zoro grunts, and you spare him one more sharp look before following after Usopp.

Three days later finds you all back at sea, with a newly minted member in tow, chasing after Nami’s shadow.

It does not take long to track her down, and when you do, the fight is — if not quick, then at least decisive. You’re not the only one who notices the stiffness in Zoro’s limbs as everyone eats and drinks their way through a whole night of merry-making.

“Back for seconds — must’ve liked it!” Sanji crows, slapping another spoonful of food onto Zoro’s plate.

“It was okay.”

“That plate says different.”

“Not hungry?” you jump slightly at Nami’s voice, and you lift your eyes just in time to see her eyebrows kick up. She cocks them at you before settling down by your side.

“Not often that you’re caught off guard — something must really be bothering you.” You can hear the edge of forced lightness in her voice, and your eyes flicker to the fresh bandage on right arm.

Events of the past few days flash behind your eyes and you cast her a small grin.

“Just thinking…”

“Sounds like trouble.”

“It does seem to follow me around, doesn’t it?”

Nami regards you with a curious look before scoffing, “Don’t you mean ‘us’?”

You frown, turning towards her. She slates you a glance before darting her eyes back to the party.

“In case you haven’t noticed… ‘Trouble’s kind of our middle name. If you don’t like it, then…”

Her voice trails off then, and the playful smile flickers like a flame caught in a sudden gust of wind. You press your lips.

“Never said I don’t like it.” You return her smile and see her firelight catch again.

“C’mon then — no more sitting around —” you let yourself be pulled to your feet, the pair of you stumbling towards the large bonfire where several of the villagers are strumming at battered instruments, though the music they make is no less brilliant for it.

“Ah, now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” Sanji says, tapping a bit of ash off a freshly lit cigarette as Zoro scrapes the final bites of food from his plate.

“Hn.” But his gaze lingers on the light-caught shape of you, a black dress hugging the curves of your waist and the bend of your hip, cascading out as you spin beneath Nami’s arm. There’s a softness about you he’s never seen before — something more than the damnable feline grace with which you fought or the steel-lined quickness and skill that forever nipped at his heels like a hungry dog, reminding him that he still had so much more to master, to learn — no, this is something else entirely.

Something lissome and light, something tantantalizing and sweet.

Something… lovely.

And it stirs something inside him too — something not at all sweet and light, though… no less tantalizing.

A semi-inebriated Nojiko manages to pull Sanji into the fray, and a moment later, you glance over to meet his eyes. A line catches then, hooked from the center of his chest to the dark, mesmerizing flash of your eyes, Zoro feels himself tipping forward.

Until he actually is, and there’s a bottle being pressed into his hand by a stranger he doesn’t even glance at.

He finds himself at your side, somehow, everyone spinning around the bonfire like marionettes on a massive stage, his limbs loose and a smile tugging wide his lips. At some point, he thinks he might’ve felt your hands in his, but then again, waking up the next morning face down in a pile of hay, a headache pounding behind his eyes, he thinks it’s probably just his imagination.

They set course for the Grand Line proper then, and everyone settles into a kind of routine. Though despite everyone’s initial protests, Zoro can be seen at the bow of the ship every sunrise and sundown, running through katas, grunting and wincing occasionally when his wound threatens to reopen, at which point you’d appear like a vague, disgruntled shadow, and shoo him back to bed.

“I’ll never best Mihawk if I don’t get better —”

“Exactly.” You pin him with a hard look; he can almost see your hackles rising as he huffs and slumps down into his hammock. You relax slightly, perched atop a rather precarious pile of barrels, but Zoro knows better than to doubt your balance.

“You’ll never beat him if you don’t get better first,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes as Zoro scoffs, pointedly twisting to face the other way. The ship rocks the hammock to and fro, and after a while, Zoro feels himself drifting off into that ever-familiar limbo of half-sleep, his mind wandering through the avenues of his memories, images coming in watercolor flashes, seeping into his vision.

“Tell me something,” he says, his voice low, his eyes still closed.

“Hm?” you barely make a noise, but he feels your presence in the corner of his room, has memorized the specific size and shape and weight of you such that he could pick you out of a moving crowd with his eyes closed, his face turned the other way.

“What do you want to know?”

“You had plenty of stories when I was unconscious — don’t you have more?”

For a moment, you don’t speak, and the silence is filled by the rhythmic creaking of wood, the soft splash of water against the ship’s hull, the occasional cry of seabirds, and the dull, muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from above deck.

“Once upon a time, a kitten was left by the roadside in a tiny village by her mother, who was sick and didn’t have enough milk to feed all her children, but it just so happens that a great big hawk was soaring overhead and took a liking to the kitten. The hawk picked her up in his great talons and brought her to a castle on an island, surrounded by thorns and briars and the most beautiful roses the kitten had ever seen. There, the hawk set her the task of hunting down mice so he himself could go after bigger, juicier prey — for you see, the hawk had long dreamed of becoming the greatest hunter in the whole wide world.”

At this, Zoro shifts to turn back towards you, peering open one eye to watch as you leaned back against the wall of the small storeroom he’d claimed as his own, one of your knees propped up, your arm hanging loosely over it, your other leg dangling down over the side of your barrel, your heel occasionally knocking against the wood with gentle little thumps.

You take a deep breath and glance down at him, a sad, faraway look in your eyes as you continue —

“Eventually, the kitten got very good at catching mice — she grew faster, stealthier, learned to sharpen her claws and teeth, learned to hide amongst the beautiful roses in the garden until the mice grew complacent before she struck. But no matter how much she begged, the hawk would never let her hunt bigger things. And then one day… the hawk took her up in his giant claws again and tossed her onto the beach — told her that there was nothing more he could teach her, and that she ought to find her own way in the world.”

You sigh, shaking your head, “What a liar…” you murmur, almost to yourself as you lower your eyes to your hands, “he never really taught me anything…”

And this time, it’s Zoro who remains silent, letting the quiet seep through the floorboards like the thick, morning mists, rising off of the water’s surface before the sun bakes it all away.

Then, he swings himself off the hammock and makes for the door. Before he can reach it, you’re in front of him, blocking his path with a bright glint in your eyes and a challenge in your smile.

“I’ve rested,” he says, plainly, taking half a step back.

“You’ll never get better like this —”

“Exactly,” he throws the word back in your face before sighing and looking away, “so… help me.”

You blink, staring up at him as he stares right back at you.

“Help you how?” You resist the urge to look away, swallow down the bitterness crawling up the back of your throat — I can’t even help myself —

“Mihawk trained you —”

“No,” you spit out, your shoulders tensing as you glare up at Zoro, “he didn’t — he did everything in his power not to —”

“Tch — you lived with him on that island and he trusted you with keeping the — the mice away —” a vein ticks in Zoro’s jaw as you watch him stare down at you, your heart thumping warm and wild in your chest, “just because he didn’t personally hold your hand and teach you his technique… doesn’t mean he wasn’t training you in his own way.”

You swallow hard.

“So what? It’s not like I can ever beat him.”

“You might. Or I might. If we help each other.”

You ball your fingers into fists, “What makes you think either of us stands a chance against him?”

At this, Zoro’s smile goes slanted — a raw, wild, blood-beat thing.

“Because I’ve seen you fight and I think you’re good. And… I know I’m good. Or at least, I know I’ll get there.”

There’s a certain quicksilver edge to the shape of his words that makes you look up, your eyes meeting his like the colliding cores of two tidally locked stars — something terrible and magnificent, a catastrophe of gravity and inevitability.

Your mind spins and for a second, you can almost see it, that distant future in which Roronoa Zoro becomes the best, better — even — than the best. The greatest in the world. You lean back, your gaze appraising.

“Tell you what — if you get good enough to catch me once… I’ll take you to him.”

Zoro frowns, “What do you mean?”

Your grin quirks and you lilt your head, “Exactly what it sounds like — you get fast enough to catch me, and catch me properly then… I’ll take you to his island.”

Zoro stares. And then, his own grin stretches to match yours.

“Deal.”

Things change after that, the mornings and evenings no longer finding Zoro alone at the bow of the ship, but always with the shape of you flickering around him, the bright, hungry gleam of sun on steel flashing around you.

“Too slow —” you gasp, dodging beneath one of his swipes as he grunts and swings downward, nearly catching the tips of your hair as you spin away.

“But — you’re getting there,” you grin, holding up a hand as you lean back against the side of the Merry, your other hand pressed to your chest.

“Outta breath, kitten?” Zoro asks, smirking as he slowly sheaths his sword, sweat glistening along the planes and grooves of his chest.

“Hardly.” You flick him a disapproving look but there’s a tiny smile that threatens the corner of your mouth as he scoffs, reaching for a rag to dab at his forehead. You can’t help the way your eyes linger on the strong, sturdy ripples of muscles that flex along his back and shoulders as he straightens up either, and when he catches you staring, it’s all you can do to hold his gaze.

You don’t give him a chance to gloat. Instead, you swing your knives around your fingers and cast him a grin.

“Breakfast,” you say.

“Mm,” he agrees, just as Nami comes padding up onto the main deck, stifling a yawn and squinting at you both with a mildly disgusted look on her face.

“How the hell are you guys up so damn early all the time?”

“Ah, they say that cats are diurnal creatures — so they’re most awake at dawn and at dusk. As for the moss-head… I’ve heard that idiots don’t need as much sleep. Not as much brain to rest, y’know?” Sanji remarks, smirking as he brushes by Nami with a wink.

Zoro scoffs, wiping off his blade with a rough cloth, “It’s called bettering yourself. Not that you’d know what it means. All this time and your congee’s still runny as f —”

“Says the guy who can’t tell the difference between sunny side up and scrambled eggs —”

You sigh, ducking around the squabbling pair with a long, sinuous stretch.

“So… how goes the sparring, hm?” Nami asks, her voice dripping with innuendo as she follows you into the kitchen, her sleep-blurred eyes now sharp, her grin moon-sly and teasing.

“It goes,” you say, opening a cupboard and rummaging around for anything that catches your eye.

“I see… and is it going somewhere in particular?” Nami drapes herself across the long couch, her eyes tracking you as you move from cupboard to cupboard, and finally stopping in front of the fridge.

You hoist yourself up onto the suspended table, a glass of milk in your hands, “Depends on where this particular place is.”

Nami shrugs, “Dunno… just seems like Zoro’s spending a lot of time following you around like a lost little puppy these days. When was the last time he’s left you alone for more than say —” Nami makes a show of checking her watch, “15 minutes?”

“We’re just training together — and he doesn’t follow me around all the time —” but even as the words leave your mouth, Zoro ducks into the kitchen, his eyes skipping from you to Nami and back again.

“Waiter said we’re on our own for breakfast.”

“I’m good with milk.” You hold up your glass even as Nami snickers and Zoro nods, rummaging through a few cupboards until he pulls out a bag of jerky. At this, Nami’s eyes slingshot between the pair of you one last time before she sighs dramatically and saunters back out of the room, muttering something about conning Sanji into making proper breakfast.

The quiet twines around your ankles, soft and familiar. Zoro leans against the counter, the small bag of jerky untouched as he watches you sip at your milk. Heat curls along the curve of your spine as you feel the weight of his eyes tracking your lips, the bright pink flash of your tongue.

You swallow.

So does he.

“You’re getting faster.”

“You’re getting stronger.”

Your words overlap like the pages of a book, flipped through too fast.

You blink, and then — laughter. Your’s startled and shy, his soft and… you turn just fast enough to catch him duck his head the other way, shoving his hand into the bag of jerky. He clears his throat.

“Thanks.”

“What for?” you work to press some of your usual purr back into your voice, but it sounds strange and tinny in the wane morning light.

“For…” Zoro hesitates, and for a second, you find yourself leaning into the smooth weight of his voice, as if you might be able to catch his next words in the palm of your hands like bruised fruit.

“Alright — outta my kitchen, mosshead — lovely ladies like these should always start the day with a well-balanced meal.”

Sanji kicks open the door and Zoro glares. You’re already hopping off the counter, quiet as starlight, grinning behind Sanji’s back even as Zoro sighs.

“It’s not your kitchen, waiter. I’ve got as much right to be in here as you do.”

You try to slip away but Nami’s hand darts out to catch your wrist.

“Not so fast… kitten.”

Your entire face flushes at the word.

“I don’t know what you’re —”

Nami’s satisfied smile is more Cheshire than cat but you allow her to drag you up to the bow of the ship, half-concealed by her tangerine trees. Up here, the air tastes briny and sweet with morning air. Up here, you have you squint against the sea’s shattered glass light, cast up towards the dawning sky.

Nami leans against the railing and casts her eyes out towards the distant horizon. There’s always been a sun-kissed quality about her, the brilliant orange of her hair, the darkening patches of freckles scattered across her nose-bridge. You let her press her arm to yours and feel the warmth and soft of her skin.

“So. Zoro, huh?”

You sigh, looking down towards the dark emerald of the waves below. You watch as the water froths against the ship’s hull, peeling away in roils of white lace.

“A little cliche, if you ask me — y’know, the swordsman and the knife-girl? But… I guess it makes sense.” There’s a lightness to her voice that makes you laugh, a solidness to her words that makes you powerless to contest them.

“They say it’s good to have hobbies in common,” you offer, hoping to match the playfulness in her voice. Nami chuckles, making a noise at the back of her throat.

“Oh yeah, I bet ‘bodycount’ means something totally different to the two of you, huh?”

You let a real laugh break though then, your head tipping back and reveling in the sound. The rapidly rising sun casts everything in a dreamy, slant-wise glow — golden hour, you think you’ve heard it called. But you wonder if it’s might just be more amber than gold, standing here, laughing with Nami, you feel for the first time, a weight shift and slip from your shoulders. Like shedding a thick coat after a long day’s travel.

Then, the light shifts, a thin fog of clouds dulling out the sun’s light as Nami fixes you with her too-sharp eyes.

“He’s going after Mihawk, isn’t he?”

You sober as well, wetting your lips. “Eventually, yeah.”

“And… you’re helping him.”

You nod.

Nami sighs, dropping her chin onto a the heel of her hand.

“You… really think he can do it? Beat Mihawk?”

You take your time scanning the horizon. Without the transcendent glow of the rising sun, the waves are cooler, darker, and you know better than most the monsters lurking just beneath the surface.

“Mihawk’s only human,” you say. To which Nami scoffs.

“Right. That makes it loads better.”

You instinctively reach for where you knives would be, the empty loops on your belt like a persistent itch in your fingertips.

“At least it means he bleeds red just like the rest of us.”

Nami nods as you push away from the rails, retracing your steps into the kitchen where you’d left your knives.

Sanji is halfway through grilling mackerel with a steaming pot of miso soup bubbling on the stove. He gives you a wink and a knowing grin as you wander in, jerking his chin towards the hanging table where Zoro is running an oiled cloth along the length of his sword.

“In case you were lookin’ for your knives,” Sanji’s voice is silken tofu smooth as he turns back to his cooking.

Zoro doesn’t look up as you reach for your knives, laid out perfectly, already cleaned and oiled.

“I was doing mine anyway,” Zoro says, by way of an explanation.

You smirk, reaching out to tuck each one into its spot on your belt.

“Thanks, pretty boy, altruism looks good on you.”

You slink from the room before you can hear Sanji’s witty taunt or Zoro’s biting retort, a satisfied heat stirring steady at the base of your stomach.

The languorous days slip into sun-soaked weeks, and though it takes longer than anyone would’ve liked for Zoro’s wound to heal, it does. And the scar, well —

“I think it looks awesome!” Luffy says, clapping Zoro on the shoulder as you tug away the gauze to inspect the long thin strip of puckered skin, a few shades lighter than the rest of Zoro’s chest.

“Yeah, real… manly-like,” Usopp adds, arms folded, leaning against the far wall, fighting an expression between impressed slightly queasy. He backpedals immediately as Zoro casts him a dark look.

“N-not that you’re not real or manly already or anything like that! It just uh — adds to the allure, y’know?”

Nami makes a face, “Yeah, I don’t know about allure…”

Sanji grunts.

“When did this become a museum exhibit?” Zoro snaps, frowning at the entire crew, gathered around him as you unstick the last of the bandages from his now healed stomach.

“We just wanted to make sure you were alright, Zoro!” Luffy says, rummaging around for a snack now that he’s satisfied his first mate is properly healed.

“I’ve been fine for weeks,” Zoro says flatly as Usopp joins Luffy and Sanji wanders towards the window to let out a puff of smoke.

“Can you lean back a bit — I think it’s still not completely healed by your —” you frown as you try to press Zoro back, your palm splaying against his stomach as your free hand traces at the waistband of his pants towards where the large gash tapers into his right hip.

Zoro hisses between his teeth and the room goes deathly quiet.

You look up to find everyone staring, and then half a second later Nami leaps to her feet, talking loudly about a part of the East Blue map she wants to finish, Usopp stuttering after her about checking the knots on the main mast, and Sanji dragging Luffy by the scruff of the neck, insisting that they set up the fishing lines for the day.

The door slams behind Luffy and somehow, the room feels more full than it had been just a few seconds prior. The silence pulses between you, thick and pitched and expanding.

You clear your throat delicately, lowering your eyes back to the task at hand, doing your best to ignore the uncomfortable heat now creeping up the back of your neck.

“Can you —”

Zoro leans back wordlessly, propping his arms against the table, his hips shifting forward to allow you access.

You gently tug down the material of his waistband several inches to reveal the tip of the wound, still a bit raw and red, possibly from the friction of his clothes, or just his general lack of regard for his own recovery.

“Yeah, it’s still not all —” your voice cuts off as you look up to find Zoro staring, and the burgeoning hunger you find there stills your heart in your chest. It’s a strange, base, animal thing, caught in the swirling darkness of his irises, but he holds his breath, and so you do yours —

“Healed…” you swallow hard, reaching for the thick, pungent balm sitting by his left hand.

With slow, methodic movements, you uncap the balm and dip your finger into the sticky surface, reaching forward to run the tip along the soft redness of Zoro’s skin. Thinking back later, you might’ve been thankful for the sharp herbal fragrance of the balm to distract you from the deeper, muskier smell of Zoro’s skin, salted as it always is with sea and sweat, tempered with the unmistakable scent of steel.

But right then, all you can think about is the sharp cut of his hipbone as it slants down, and down, and —

You pull back when you’re done, making to wipe your hand on a piece of washcloth when Zoro catches your wrist in one smooth movement, pulling you up till you’re chest to chest, your body slotted between his spread open legs.

“Zoro, what —”

“Caught you —” His voice is nothing more than a whisper, but you feel it rumbling through his chest to yours.

“— You’re losing your touch.”

You narrow your eyes, “Not a chance — I was distracted, that’s not fair —”

You try to tug your wrist away only for him to tighten his grip. A fist-like something clenches inside your stomach along with his fingers. Fire licks at the base of your belly before climbing up your spine.

“Hn. All’s fair.”

You watch in near slow motion as his eyes flick down to your lips and back up again; you’re helpless to do else but mirror the movement. With your wrist still caught in his grasp, it’s almost too easy for him to pull you forward, to tip you into him till you’re nearly spilling over, till you’re scrambling back with half-caught breaths and wide eyes and your other palm pressing firmly to his chest, where you can feel the fluttering beats of his own heart caught just beneath your touch.

“I-if you’re gonna make a move, at least wait till I’ve finished wiping off my hands,” the words come tumbling out, more a reflex than anything else, but it makes Zoro blink and lean back just a few inches. His grip on you eases ever so slightly, and you tug your wrist from his grasp, expecting him to snap to, to jerk away, to blush or apologize, but instead, all he does is watch you mutely wipe at your hands with those dark, hungry eyes.

When you’ve finished, he quirks an eyebrow as if waiting for you to make the next move.

At this, you huff, rolling your eyes, “Come on*,* pretty boy — you can’t expect me to dress your wounds and make the first —”

The kiss is quick and searing and over all too fast, as most first kisses are. The second kiss is more patient, a slow easing in, a teasing of lips and and a testing of tongues. The third is breathless, hedging on urgent. The fourth — well the fourth is cut short by Zoro pressing his forehead to yours, the both of you panting.

“Wh — what the hell was that?” you ask, gulping down great lungfuls of breath as Zoro scoffs.

“C’mon kitten, don’t go gettin’ shy on me now…” Zoro smirks even as you lean forward to try and nip at his bottom lip, eyes flashing. He tilts your mouth back to his, and words are lost for a few more moments before you find them again.

“Who said anything about getting shy? I just wanted an explanation.”

Zoro makes an abortive noise at the back of his throat as you nose into the place under his jaw and graze your teeth along the skin there.

“C-can’t a guy say thanks for someone dressing his wounds?”

You pull back with a soft hiss and a sly smile; it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter.

“Don’t tell me this is how you’ve been thanking all your savoirs. I’ll have to go compare notes with Zeff —”

At this, Zoro grunts, wincing slightly as your belt presses against the inside of his hip where his wound is still raw. You pull away, startled.

“Sorry — I didn’t —”

“Hey.”

Zoro tugs you back with soft hands and an even softer smile, “Not sure I liked having you talk about Zeff while we were…”

You break him off with a helpless laugh and he joins you a second later. And then, before either of you can say more, Usopp’s voice echoes down from above deck.

“Land ho! Land ho!”

You glance back at Zoro, who slips off the table and has the decency to rearrange his clothes. You share a meaningful look before trying to pull away but Zoro once again catches your wrist.

This time, his lips are set and his eyes are just a tad bit harder than before.

“Don’t forget, kitten, you still owe me an island.”

You pause, peering at him beneath half-lidded eyes as your head lists first to one side, and then the other.

His eyes track yours before ticking down to your lips once more, where your tongue traces a path his own had run along not so long ago.

“You should know by now, pretty boy, that I never forget my debts.”

And just like that, your wrist slips from between his fingers, and Zoro’s left with nothing more than the taste of your mouth and the flicker of your shadow as he steps into the dim hallway.

Loguetown is a bustling place, a bleached button pressed into the chest of the East Blue, bright as a Marine’s new uniform. People blow through like fall leaves on the wayward wind and ships of all shapes and sizes dot every bit of tangible coast, their masts foresting the skyline until it’s barely visible from the docks.

“Need new swords,” Zoro announces as the crew all gather on the creaky boardwalk.

“Same. Could do with a few more knives,” you nod.

Nami tuts, rolling her eyes, “Well I’m getting a new wardrobe.”

“I’m gonna get some lunch!” Luffy grins widely as Sanji sighs, digging in his pockets for a fresh light.

“Looks like we’re stuck with the grocery shopping,” he says, nudging Usopp.

“Uh… I was actually gonna go check out some tech shops to find some parts for…” Usopp trails off as Sanji pins him with a look before shrugging, “Or… I mean, I don’t mind doing groceries first and then looking for parts.”

“Good man!” Sanji smiles, clapping him on the back as he frog-marches Usopp towards the market.

“No getting into fights, got it?” Nami looks between you and Zoro, “we need to be discreet.”

You bat your lashes, “Us? Never! We’ll be sweet and soft as kangaroos.”

Nami frowns, “Wait — kangaroos aren’t —”

You laugh, flouncing off towards town, “Never said they were!”

Zoro sighs before following after.

“It’s not your first time here,” he says after a while. It’s not a question, so you don’t provide an answer, contenting yourself with looking around at all the new shop fronts that had popped up since you were last here, and all the old haunts that have been here since what you’re sure is the inception of time itself.

“Where are we going?” he asks after several more minutes of turning down seemingly random streets.

You flash him a grin, “I know a place.”

When you duck into the arms shop, Ipponmatsu glances up from over his bulbous nose before doing a double-take. His eyes narrow to slits.

“You! You nearly robbed me blind the last time you were here! Get —”

Drop a bag of clinking Berry into one of the sword bins with a feline smirk, drawing a long finger against the hilt of some unnamed blade.

“There. That should set us even. And… you did try to swindle me first. Plus, I’m here on proper business today — my friend is in the market for some swords.”

Ipponmatsu’s eyes remain slits, but his fingers twitch as he edges toward the bin, snatching the sack from it and clutching it to his chest.

Zoro glances around at the various blades hung and displayed around the surprisingly spacious shop. The distinct unctuous tone of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by the shopkeeper, but he seems too distracted by the sack of Berry to snipe any further.

“Well,” Ipponmatsu gruffs after a few more seconds, “I’m watchin’ you… oh…” his eyes slide from you to Zoro and then to the Wadou Ichimonji at his side. Zoro almost feels the man’s jaw go slack for a second before he slams it back into place.

“E-esteemed swordsman, sir! That blade — at your side — if I might just take a look —”

You’re perched on the cashier’s counter faster than either of them can blink, one leg crossed over the other, feet hanging idly off the side, a palm pinning Ipponmatsu’s greedy hand to the surface, an almost bored expression on your face as you squint down at his fingers.

“Hm… don’t they say that swordsmen ought to take good care of their hands? I could feed a whole family of mice with the dead skin of your cuticles.”

Ipponmatsu yelps and tries to jerk free but your hold is firm, and Zoro has to fight down the amused grin twitching at the edge of his mouth. He’s felt first hand how strong your grip can be, how unnervingly quick the pressure is there, slicing off circulation with the precision of a blade.

“W-what do you want?!” the shopkeeper looks wildly between the pair of you.

You shrug, “Like I said, we’re in the market for some swords. I’d just like to make sure we keep all the dealings above water, hm?”

Ipponmatsu glares at you for a second longer before all the fight goes out of him and he slumps against the counter.

“Oh, alright alright! Look at the damned swords — it’s just… you’ve got a mighty good blade there. You’d do well not to lose it, ” he jerks his chin towards Zoro’s blade, “or get it stolen,” his eyes flash back to where you’re now cheerfully perusing a collection of knives in the far corner, the space you’d inhabited on the cashier’s counter static with your absence.

Ipponmatsu rubs as his wrist. Zoro nods.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Don’t worry — I’ve got no interest in katana’s. I prefer more subtlety myself.” You swing a pair of serrated claw knives around your fingers as if testing them for weight before putting them back.

All in all, it takes half an hour, a cursed blade, and some groveling on Ipponmatsu’s part before you and Zoro stroll out of the arms shop with two brand new katanas strapped to his side, and a fresh set of throwing needles tucked into your belt.

You take off in a random direction and Zoro follows after. You pass through a wide open square brimming with people and slip into a dark alley between two buildings made of carved marble so white it almost hurts the eyes.

Zoro is quiet as he walks behind you, until he isn’t.

“So, what’s the story?”

“Oh… just something from a past life of mine,” you answer offhandedly, fluttering your fingers through the air.

“Yeah? And how many of those have you got?”

You shoot him a piercing look and a crooked grin, “Some number between one and nine — take your best guess.”

Zoro falls silent again as a pair of drunken sailor careen by, arm in arm, belting a sea shanty.

After a while, you turn, “Hey, how’dyou know there was even story to begin with?”

Zoro ticks up an eyebrow, his hands resting one on top of the other over his newly obtained sword hilts as the pair of you wander through the tributary streets, ducking under awnings and slipping through crowds.

“With you, there’s always a story.”

He feels your eyes on him first, and he lets you watch him for a while, his own eyes slipping from store fronts to shop windows. Occasionally, he lets himself linger on the reflection of you and him — him made of so many solid, hard shapes, and you, soft as water, quick as light, elusive as any shadow.

“Then… how do you think this one ends?” you ask, your eyes meeting his in a reflection of a window across which you can see the a vague Nami-shaped pile of expensive clothes.

“This one?”

“Yeah. Ours.”

Zoro grunts, letting his gaze flick away, “What makes you think it’ll end anytime soon?”

He catches your smile and you let him, “Who said anything about soon?”

He feels the prickle of heat as it crawls up his neck and clears his throat.

“Well then, maybe when I become the World’s Greatest Swordsman.”

You frown, suddenly contemplative.

“So… it’ll end when you beat Mihawk?”

Zoro shrugs, “Might. Or it might not.”

Your frown deepens as you turn to face him proper. Through the glass, Nami catches sight of you and is waving you in, pointing at a rack of clothes glittering in sequins and patched in colors you’ve never imagined putting on your body before today.

“No? Won’t that be when you become the greatest in the world? When you beat him?”

Zoro turns, and there — just there, caught in the light of his eyes, the spark of something as he looks down at you. There’s a smile pressed between his lips that’s part mischief, part hesitancy, and all earnest truth.

“World’s a big place. Might have to check around to make sure there’s not a better swordsman out there, somewhere.” His voice is low, hope twisting beneath its rippling surface.

You feel your heart skittering your chest, the warmth in your stomach crystalizing into something more than simple curiosity and harder than desire.

“Ah… right. That does pose a problem, doesn’t it?”

Zoro makes a consenting noise.

“So,” he says, with a tone of light finality as he turns back toward the window behind which Nami is now twirling in front of a mirror in a truly lurid dress of hot pink.

“So…” you say, feigning an air of defeat as you sigh, “I guess you’re stuck with me for a while yet, pretty boy.”

“Hn.” Zoro, for his part, doesn’t sound too upset with the proclamation.

Just then, Luffy’s voice shouts from behind you both and you turn to find him waving.

“Zoro! You have to come look! There’s a guy at the market selling Sea King Meat!”

Then, Nami finally pokes her head out from inside the clothing store, now sporting a pair of blindingly bright disco pants.

“C’mon! There’s like a million dresses I put aside for you to try!”

You and Zoro turn back to each other in a single, stolen breath. Your eyes collide, and Zoro smiles. A small, brilliant, unguarded thing.

“Go on, kitten. I’ll catch up to you.”

You toss him a wide, lingering grin.

“Right. You’d better.”

Zoro waves as he turns towards Luffy, “Don’t worry. I will.”

[hwaightme]

I will wait

(masterlist)

🍵pairing: seonghwa x gn!reader 🍵genre: comfort, healing, fluff, confession, friends to lovers, implied slowburn 🍵summary: you would have never expected to be facing your biggest fear over a cooling cup of tea, but here you are, gazing into seonghwa's loving eyes. 🍵wordcount: 2.8k total 🍵warnings/tags: semi-edited, slightly dark humour, mention of relationship trauma, learning to love again, emotional exhaustion, present tense, seonghwa is a loving understanding boy, inner monologues, y/n pov, mutual friend joong 🍵 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🍵 a/n: hello <3 slowly trying to make a return, feeling very rusty... sorry <3 i hope this brings comfort to you <3 reblogs, thoughts and feelings always appreciated.

Wrapped up in routine and basic survival, it is easy to forget your own heart. Similarly, when your heart bears more metaphorical scar tissue than ground for new beginnings, it is easy to abandon frivolous affections in favour of basic human function - so long as the worn out organ beats, everything is good enough. Long gone are the days when you boldly dive into a journey without evaluating the potential consequences, hoping for smooth, never ending roads. Cold, calculated, you consider. And almost one hundred percent of the time, nothing is ever worth it. What could another person bring to you that you cannot bring yourself? Down to heartbreak, you have no trouble being your own worst critic, and happiness? Well, you know what you like best. There simply is no room for anything else, anything more. You float, trying to keep your head above water. 

You have heard far too many things about yourself to continue caring about relationships. Everyone seems to have their own idea and theory about why you are perpetually single, from you being too threatening, to you behaving in some type of way. Well, if your behaviour does not suit someone, you are not about to go out of your way to change yourself to fit another’s standards - you have tried to do that before, everything collapsing and ending catastrophically, leaving you in shambles. If someone is threatened, it is their problem, first and foremost, not yours. Again, you are not going to diminish yourself, admonish yourself when you are trying your damn hardest to stay standing in a world and society that is challenging enough to exist in.

Many have told you to try to flirt ‘for sport’, ‘for fun’, but in your eyes it is a colossal waste of time, energy and your ability to lie. You do enough of that when masking your exhaustion. Some talk of their own successes; relationships that stand the test of time, crushes that turn into partners and long distance turning into close proximity. So what? You are happy for them, in fact, you are elated. Just because you yourself are not in a relationship does not mean you are void of happiness - something that a lot of people appear to either not understand or forget. Much like you get irritated at others not minding their own business, you stick to such rules yourself: your discomfort with people, past disappointments and the occasional pang of solitude are nobody else’s truth but your own. You are the keeper of your life, fatigued, but at least you are honest. To someone. You are not sure who this someone is, but you feel honest.

Jasmine tea in a tall cup in front of you, a dessert, the name of which you already forgot - some kind of special, stand in front of you proudly, aromatic and flavourful. A newly released album by a singer who you discovered a little while ago is playing on the speakers, ever so gently muted by the occasional burst of steam or rumble of the barista machine. It is not the first time you are hearing these songs - on loop, again and again, you are starting to memorise some of the lyrics. Lulling chatter of the workers at the cafe in a language you cannot understand - so melodic, so comforting, so familiar. And here you are, imagining yourself to be another decoration, a chair, a table, plant or light, sitting here, unmoving, soaking in the atmosphere of what you have grown to adore with your whole heart.

There is a reason why you love this little place, tucked away inside the side streets of a busy city. So many people, so many events, so many ups and downs, and through it all, this place stays standing. You met ‘what ifs’ here, spent hours chatting away with someone who you used to know, indulged in maybes, passions, friendships, and through it all, your heart was still so happy. You consider yourself to be harmlessly simple when it comes to things like this - very little is needed to bring a smile to your face and reassure you. Yes, there is never a problem in ‘what’ brings you joy. The issue is in who it is ‘who’ brings, or is meant to bring, this happiness to you. For this reason, you are perfectly content with how you are, having ordered the drink and dessert for yourself, sitting alone at one of the tables, and, with a view unobstructed by some individual who would probably turn into a stranger, taking in the interior and the world visible through the windows. You feel just a smidgen stronger when you step inside this place. A regular, you can chat with the baristas happily and relish in the mutual recognition and warm wishes. This is a tiny little home for you. A home for your heart.

Until right this moment, that is. Until you look up and see an awfully familiar figure slinking past the entrance and giving a light bow to one of the baristas who had spotted him. Until you lock eyes with this personified elegance, and, bewildered, follow his increasing proximity to your table. He is dressed comfortably, but even the most casual garment is made priceless when worn by him - that much you have learned to not be surprised by. Straightened black hair that reaches his shoulders in the back is, again, very befitting the weather and the aesthetic. You cannot hate him nor his looks even if you tried. But would you reveal anything except indifference? Only time can tell. For now, even before he can utter your name - his parted lips suggesting an impending greeting, you merely point at the register, motioning for him to make an order first. It has been only a couple of seconds, but you already want to hide. Looking at your phone you check the time, wondering if you can make up some other travel plan or appointment. Alas, nothing is coming to mind that qualifies as an unwavering obligation. Here’s to being caught off-guard. Particularly embarrassing considering that it is not the first time. Seonghwa - an endearing but dangerously handsome nerd who crashed into your life, as most of your friends had done, is just that little bit too dedicated, that little bit too curious, that little bit too committed to ‘being there for you’. As a friend, surely. 

You sneak the occasional glance at him while he is waiting for his drink of choice - probably a strawberry tea or whatever else that is the antithesis to bitterness. It takes a bit of strength to convince yourself that this is all pure coincidence. Just two friends who happened to see each other in the same cafe that they have both been to before. You do not want your nerves to take over and persuade you to think that there is anything more. It is all too tiring. And so you hide away your unresolved debates in a box deep in your chest, somewhere far enough from that bloodied fist that is making you lightheaded, so far that you find it harder to breathe. But it is nothing; nothing you aren’t used to. It is simple enough - giving Seonghwa a quick smile when he approaches you again with that silly little red drink in his hands, gesturing at the seat opposite you, waiting for him to settle and look up at you with a sparkle in his endless rich chocolate eyes.

“Must be fate, huh?” he jokes, while your grin falters. There he goes again.

“Are you following me, Park?” Your question is delivered without much emotion aside from a raised brow. But you know well enough that this is about as good as using cotton in place of a bullet; Seonghwa keeps on grinning, and takes a quick sip of his tea. 

“No need when you’re always on my mind,” you pretend to feel nauseous from his corny flirting, and roll your eyes. It is despicable how his presence really is entertaining.

“Oh dear. Must be a nightmare. Need a therapist?” 

“This would be the best diagnosis one could ever receive, I fear,” he is spectacularly bold today, that much you can deduce. Contrary to popular descriptions from your other mutual friends, Seonghwa has never been ‘shy’ towards you, and his affection knows no bounds. Be it a random trinket, song link or a sweet word, he truly does seem to have an infinite supply of it - something both perplexing, and enviable. He is a person who is so full of love that it overflows. In short, your opposite.

“Right…” you trail off, not quite sure how to respond. His eyes remain on your face, softening from a bright eagerness to tranquil admiration, “well… what brings you here?”

“Cutting straight to the chase?”

“Tired of running,” your deadpanned response clearly has some kind of impression, as Seonghwa momentarily pauses and purses his lips. 

“Fair enough.”

Tap, tap, another tap on the side of his cup. Finger restlessly tracing his nervousness into the curves and edges of the ceramic. Newfound fascination in counting the crumbs that are like stars on your plate. You count seconds, but each one drags on until it has no meaning. What could be so challenging to put into words? You know, but hope with all your being that you are completely and utterly wrong. In your books, once a person has given up, there is no point in ever reigniting that naive fighting spirit that suffered defeat, only for the risk to have the fall repeat. You wait patiently, suppressing the urge to stand up and walk out.

“Okay, so, I did ask Hongjoong where you were-” he begins with a light simpering smile to mask what you can only read as worry.

“Figured.”

“Mm, alright. Uhm, well. How can I even- so…”

All the signs are evident. You should have known from the moment he entered the cafe. And if not then, then at least from the way he was acting right before this. But you do not have the courage to stop him anymore, choosing to let anguish settle in your bones. He clears his throat, barely audible, perhaps to ground himself yet again. You feel sorry - the trepidation of the heart, the wishes and dreams blending with the present vision, adrenaline and foolishness forcing action. Thankfully, this twisted bouquet of emotional torment is not terminal, if treated correctly. You wait.

“Goodness, I wanted this to be a casual setting and here I am making a big deal out- well, it is a big deal… or, well, it could be if you wanted to- what am I saying-” he stumbles over his own words, which is most certainly something uncharacteristic to him. Seonghwa, normally the one who can encapsulate any situation and sensation in the most wondrous collections of phrases, is at a loss. Might this be terminal?

“Perhaps it is best that I start from the end, then,” you prepare yourself for the worst, “I… I really like you. Really, really like you.”

At least you are prepared.

“Oh…” the single syllable betrays your irrevocably increasing agitation. You don’t ‘love’. You don’t ‘like’. You can’t. You shouldn’t. Does Seonghwa not know what he is walking into?

“I- before you say it, let me… I know that this is terrifying, and hell, I’m so sorry for crashing into your day like this. It was selfish of me. But I just want you to know that no matter what, you will always be an important person to me, a very very important person who makes my life brighter than any star,” you swallow whatever retort lodged in your throat, remaining silent. You cool like the tea in your cup, curious who will leave this cafe shattered. A lukewarm kind of sadness.

Shame on you, for being so closed off. Surely, you should be blaming yourself. Objectively, Seonghwa is beyond lovely. To some, he might be everything. Maybe even to you, he might be something of a balancing force. His fire to your ice, if you were to let yourself indulge in being a tiny bit cheesy. Subjectively, the ice would melt, and put out the fire, or instead turn to wispy steam, blending into promises, equally as airy. It is easy enough to figure out that you are stuck in the latter maze of conclusions.

You could cry. Seonghwa, having noticed a droplet by your cup- be it condensation or a careless descent from a sip turned sour, immediately reaches for a napkin and wipes it away, as if everything that is happening is only natural. As if confessing is nothing out of the ordinary to him. Perhaps this is indeed the case, and you are the only one who has gone to great lengths to disassociate yourself from all things ‘love’. Ballads turn to taunts, poems turn to curses, bouquets turn to rotting litter. How dare Seonghwa show up in your life like this, and threaten to never leave? Your gaze crawls slowly upwards, a frail candlelight extinguished with the roar of his glimmering orbs, already having trailed back to studying you. Your skin crawls at the possibility of him reading your distress - he can, you know he can, he probably is. A shiver travels up your spine. Thankfully, Seonghwa does not mention it, despite the furrowing of his brows being obvious even from the briefest glimpse.

“Well…” your thought ends where it has begun. Words fail you. You clench your fist, instinctively looking for the sleeve of your top to offer some kind of distraction. 

“Hm?” He could be a painting. Every movement effortlessly graceful, he puts models to shame, and gold loses its meaning when faced with his heart. You cannot utter the question plaguing you out loud, but you know that it is the only thing you could possibly manage, and even then, you’d rather forever hold your silence than to see your friend, or not quite friend, be crestfallen. He would lie, he would pretend, all in the efforts to not turn into your mirror. 

“...Why? Why did I say it, right?” Clearly, he knows you too well. You bite your lower lip, and give him a tiny nod while cradling the cup in your hands. His chuckle awakens unwanted butterflies that you attempt to kill with a sword of memories. To no avail. He is not mad nor disappointed, is not lashing out at you and does not seem in any way discouraged. Instead, his hands hover beside yours as he whispers for permission, which you mutely give. He grins, and soon enough, the palms of his hands are caressing your knuckles - reassuring, gentle. 

“I think we are quite similar in some ways. Guided by our morals and beliefs, we act and shape our futures. It just so happens that I believe in love,” a turbulent pause, “...and you. I believe in you. And so I dive headfirst. Into you. And I don’t mind what happens to me, because I still would consider myself lucky to feel what I feel for you.”

“Then you must be aware that… hm, that I am perplexed by this progression?”

“I can explain as many times as you’d like and need.”

“Do my views not bother you? Seonghwa, you are familiar with a lot more than the average person, isn’t that repulsive?” you make an attempt to ruin whatever image he had built up of you in his head, but he would not budge.

“Why would they? I did, I do and I will strive to understand.”

Time fades, and all that remains is an invitation. Hands outstretched, calling for you to take the leap. You are scared out of your mind, unable to see what the future holds. Stone cracks and echoes in your ribcage, sending a ripple through what you had buried. You really shouldn’t, for Seonghwa’s sake, but that little voice in your head is singing, and daring you to try. Would you hate yourself if you would be proven true? Or would parting with Seonghwa be just as sweet as the beginning?

“And what if I- what if I want to… but I need time… to like you…”

“Then I will wait. For as long as you want,” he takes your hands by the fingers, gingerly grasping them and running soothing lines with his thumb, for as long as you need.”

It may be easy to forget your own heart, it may be the case that you are happy alone. But at the same time there is someone who remembers your heart, hoping you would remember theirs. Someone who will wait for you on the other side of solitude, unfreezing and turning the clocks from past to present. Someone who, with every passing day, finds more and more of you to love.

🍵 perma-taglist: @shakalakaboomboo @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @marsstarxhwa @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

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[devosin]

— FOR THE RECORD !! ♡. Synopsis : CATER DIAMOND, a world renowned journalist, who previously worked at Steambird but recently decided to resign and move jobs when offered a higher position at "The Rotten Apple" network, one of the most well-known news establishment in all of Twisted Wonderland, only to realize he'd be working hand in hand with y/n. Y/N L/N, who worked really hard, trying to earn their current position at their company, only to find out their (self-proclaimed) biggest rival ever would be working alongside them from now on?, how will these two ex-uni rivals work under these new conditions, and will the tension they left behind in senior year finally break the ice? . . . "For the record, this won't end well."

— What to expect ? ! : Co-workers to lovers, genshin crossover, placed in the future (Cater's in his late 20's), Semi-slowburn, A lot of undealt tension, Fluff & Comedy, Mutual pinning, Teasing, Semi implied no dating policy, Workplace romance, Petty fighting, Mentions/Usage of drugs . . . ♡

This is placed within the same universe and timeline as Late nights & Flashing lights (Vil Schoenheit x Reader) . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Saturday !! " for those who are still hung up over that one 'what if' "

♡. profiles : our main leads . .

PROLOGUE !!

♡. dream do come true (not) ♡. agony

— taglist ♡ ; @honkai-freak , @merviolet-asks , @meigalaxy , @leifsclubroom , (you'll be tagged in the comments due to tumblr mention issues)

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.