#that should do right. idk how tagging works I’m sorry

[gumdefense]

Rivals for what. Edgeworth’s affection?

[gayboyrocklee]

Love posting my Spotify receipts for the month bc you can always tell when I’ve had smth big to write for one of my classes bc the one Jash song (Dream (Outro from Calamity)) will make the receipt. I did not end up a Jashinator but I do like having a song I can rely on to make me write things.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

building blocks | yjh

(agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.)

pairing: master's student!jeonghan x TA!f!reader genre: university!au, strangers to loveres | fluff, minor angst, attempt at humor, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 19.7k (idk what to say atp) warnings: mentions of eating and drinking, jeonghan briefly drives a motorcycle, they're both engineering students but i don't claim to know engineering, the angst is minor because there's some miscommunication smut warnings: lots of kissing, hand job, fingering, slight voyeurism? (jeonghan watches reader finger herself), kind of loser!jeonghan, missionary sex, nothing really crazy all things considered

a/n: this is for the TA collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios. those two have been working so hard on this and i can't wait to read all the fics. but go easy on me because i know next to nothing about structural engineering. credit to @caelesjjk for this banner, it's so amazing 🥰 also thank you to everyone that helped me brainstorm along the way @ugh-yoongi @haologram @highvern and of course to @wqnwoos for letting me borrow her name.

note 2: this isn’t proofread. i had something come up irl and wanted to get it posted, so i’m sorry for any errors! i’ll come back to it next week when i have a minute.

(tag list at the end)

Your entire academic (and professional, for that matter) career has been a battle. A fight to be taken seriously. A fight to get the right classes. A fight to make the right connections. A fight for every inch that you’ve gotten. There are times that you wonder if it’s all worth it, wonder if anything should be as hard as this. But, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an engineer. To be able to leave your mark in some sort of meaningful way, even if that’s also a little conceited. It’s all you want and you’re so close to getting some much needed room to breathe. 

Except…

You have to make it through one last semester of this damn Master’s program. You managed to find a sponsor to allow you to commit to a final semester full time, with only part time research work. That’ll put you in a good position to carry on for your PhD, with your dissertation topic already picked and funded. Things had been going entirely too smoothly, in hindsight. You should have known. Everything about your application to the upcoming program is perfect. Except for the final recommendation. And, of course, the professor to give that recommendation won’t just give it to you to recognize the years you’ve put into this. No. He implies that there’s something he needs from you.

Nothing really awful, in the grand scheme of things. Not for someone that does want to return as a lecturer at some point down the road. It’s just that you didn’t really want to be forced into a teaching assistant position for Professor Choi’s introductory structural engineering course. It’s the course that weeds out who’s actually going to carry on with the civil engineering branch of the Master’s program from those who may switch out to something that better suits them. Which, again, isn’t a huge deal, except that you remember how burnt out the TA looked from when you took the course and it’s the last thing you need during your final semester. It’s hard to know that some portion of your future hinges on doing this. It’s also hard to forget another friend of yours admitting Professor Choi had given him a recommendation without the hoops.

Whatever.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that. 

So you schedule your regular meetings with the professor, make a separate email folder for all course related communication, jot down the important dates, and figure out which lessons you have to help plan. First up is going to be the introductory class. Professor Choi comes in and introduces himself while you distribute the syllabus, an odd task when everything is available online through the portal, but he likes things in hard copy. Once he’s done his introduction, he leaves the rest of the first class to you, as he had with the TA in your course during your first semester. For a moment, you consider pointing out that this is a Master’s level course and you don’t really need to do the typical introductions. Most of these people have busy lives and, even though they’ll have to work together on projects, can manage without syllabus week. But, Choi is old school and you know it. You also need his letter, so what’s the point in trying to change his system? You’re not here to do anything other than fill a spot that he was having trouble filling, get your letter, and go. 

When you scan the roster before the first day, nobody particularly sticks out. There are a couple of relatively familiar names, though you’re not sure you can place faces to them, but most of the students seem to be in their first semester of the program. It only takes getting to the introductions for someone in the course to stick out, though.

“Well, I’ve always been good at building Legos. I figure, how different can it really be?” one student answers.

It takes everything in you to school your face back into a politely interested expression when the rest of the class bursts out laughing. Your initial reaction had been incredulity. Surely he couldn’t be serious. There’s no way someone just wandered into this program because he liked building Legos. The laughter from the rest of the class dies down and you keep your attention on him.

“Why did you really join the program?” you ask. That’s what every student was supposed to be sharing. A problem for this student, apparently.

“That is why I joined,” he says with an infuriating smirk. 

“What did you say your name was?” you ask.

“Jeonghan,” he answers without anything else.

You consult the roster in front of you and put a star by his name. This is someone you know you’re going to have to keep an eye on. 

“Did I get a star already?” he prompts, earning another few chuckles from his classmates.

“Something like that,” you say and then turn to the person next to him. “And why did you join?”

Nothing else grabs your attention during the remainder of the introductions. Several students volunteer what they’re hoping to get out of the program. One brave student says she’s heard that Professor Choi is tough before asking for your opinion. Although you give a neutral answer, you make a note to speak to her privately to address her (very valid) concerns. 

When it comes time for you to return to speaking about the rest of the semester, you expect Jeonghan to interrupt in some way. He gives the impression of someone that likes causing a little bit of chaos or bringing attention to himself. Instead, he simply listens, notes something down occasionally, and gazes at you so intently that you nearly feel yourself flush. It would be a lot easier to ignore him if he didn’t look like some kind of model, though. You catch yourself looking at him more than once when other students are sharing answers. His nearly black hair falls in longer layers around his face, not quite reaching his collar in the back. There’s something almost delicate about his nose, about all of his face, really. His features are soft in a sort of beautiful way. It’s only when he catches you looking that you shake any consideration of his features from your mind. 

Once there’s only a few minutes left, you dismiss the class with a reminder that your email is beneath Professor Choi’s on the syllabus and you’re always around to help them. This class, you share, can be daunting and you’re here to help them get through it in one piece. That part comes out genuine because you do mean it. None of these students are to blame for the position you’re in. It’s not their fault that they have a TA that doesn’t really want to be in the position. So, you’re not going to make them suffer. You’re going to help them just as the TA for your class helped you. You make a note to reach out to him and ask for some advice.

Jeonghan’s eyes linger on you as the other students get out of their seats and begin talking, mostly about what they’re most excited for in the coming semester. You have to break first and look down to collect some papers from the desk. It also helps to remind yourself this is the same student who said he joined the class because he likes Legos. Ridiculous. When you look back up at the class, you’re half expecting to see his attention is still on you. It’s not. He’s joined a few classmates and is leaving the room without a backward glance. 

Legos, you remind yourself, and return to gathering your things. 

The one good thing about all this is that it’s an evening course, designed for people that have to work during the day. When the class is over, you get to go straight home to eat dinner and meld into the couch with your roommate, who also happens to be your best friend. 

You: i’m tired, want me to pick up food on the way home?

Bestie boo: i already called in an order from that one place you like so you can pick it up on the way home 

You: wow who are you and what have you done with my best friend?

Bestie boo: i didn’t pay for it

You let out a snort because that’s exactly the friend you know and love. He has to cover up ordering your favorite food from your favorite restaurant, which is sweet, by reminding you he’s still a giant pain in the ass. The gesture is enough for you to ignore it and just let him have this win. Maybe you’re off your game, but you’re a little tired.

“You should watch where you’re going.” 

The comment nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Sure, you scare easily as it is. But it’s worse when the voice comes out of seemingly nowhere. Of course it’s Jeonghan from your class, leaning against the wall just outside the building. His eyes glint at your reaction, like he’s enjoying it. Maybe he is. A second later, he pushes off from the wall to come closer. 

“And you shouldn’t scare people like that,” you retort when your heart slows a bit. He’s looking at you conspiratorially. “Did you have a question from the class?” 

“No,” he answers easily. 

“So…” you start. 

“Do you memorize the faces of all your students so quickly?” he wonders, continuing when you give him an odd look. “Or am I special?” 

“You made an impression,” you say neutrally.

“A positive one?” he presses.

“I didn’t say that,” you counter.

“But, still, you remembered me. Unless you learn all your students' faces before class as TA duties,” he says.

You sigh and decide to give him a partial truth, one that’s less likely to bite you than admitting his face is one of the only ones you remember. “I haven’t been a TA before so I don’t have a manual for how I’m going to approach it.” 

“Happy I get to be your first, then,” he says and turns to walk away. He turns back over his shoulder with a wicked smile and calls, “see you next class!” 

Your mind is preoccupied all the way to the restaurant to pick up the food and all the way back to your apartment. It’s only been one day of class and you can already feel that this student is going to be a menace. Worse than that, he seems like he knows he’s getting under your skin and wants to press it even further. Realistically, you just have to get through any of the classes that you lead. Otherwise, he’ll be the professor’s issue. 

Seungkwan is waiting on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone when you walk into the living room, takeout containers in hand. It’s relatively familiar, though you know that he also likes to be out whenever he can. A perpetual social butterfly. 

“Today was already fucking annoying,” you moan when you set the boxes down and flop onto the couch.

Seungkwan gives you a sympathetic look. “At least you’re one step closer to getting what you need from that idiot.”

You’re confused for a moment because you hadn’t been thinking of Professor Choi at all. “Oh, yeah, no. I wasn’t talking about Choi.” 

“What was the issue then?” Seungkwan asks as he leans forward to get his food.

“There’s this guy in the class and I don’t know. I can’t figure him out,” you offer. “He’s so annoying. Like who signs up for a structural engineering class just because he likes building Legos? And that smirk. Ugh. I hate him.”

“Sure sounds like it,” Seungkwan quips. 

“Fuck off, I do,” you double down. 

“What’s he look like? Is he cute?” he wonders.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

“No. You answered anyway,” Seungkwan says with a grin.

“Fine, yes he is attractive because for some reason I’ve been cursed. Why do all you annoying people in my life also have to be hot?” you whine, casting a look at your roommate.

“Did you just call me hot?” he barks through a laugh. 

“Fuck off, just pick a show. It’s your turn,” you say with a push on his arm. 

You make it through the first few classes as a TA without much to report. Jeonghan tries your patience, but there’s not much he can do during the class and he doesn’t linger afterwards. That’s usually when Professor Choi wants to debrief on the course material and make sure the next class is ready. The class is also just starting to get into the real material and away from the foundational information. 

But, now the course is well and truly underway, which means you have to announce that you’ll be starting to hold your own office hours every week. Of course, Choi also has office hours and students could take advantage of those. Probably would, if not for the fact that he encourages the class to go to you first to try and resolve anything. Something about how he’s very busy and that’s why he has a TA. It’s exhausting and just another obstacle in getting what you need. 

After getting feedback from the class, you decide to set two different times for office hours, one during the late afternoon and one during the early evening to accommodate schedules. A few students show up right at the start of your first office hours session with similar concerns. So, you invite them in and start to work through a few practice problems to illustrate the point that they’re struggling to understand. It’s actually surprisingly easy to work in this way. You would never admit it to Professor Choi, but it’s actually kind of enjoyable. There’s value in helping someone understand a difficult concept. It’s also really rewarding to watch the comprehension dawn on the faces around you as each of them seems to grasp what you’re saying. 

Honestly, you can’t imagine your first office hours going any better when you’re already an hour into it and you’ve been working with the same three students. Of course, just as they’re gathering their things to head out, feeling more confident than when they showed up, Jeonghan appears in the doorway. He doesn’t even say anything at first, just looks around at the other students. They seem oblivious to what’s happening around them.

“Thanks again,” one student says as he’s standing up.

Another student catches sight of Jeonghan and she smiles. “Oh, sorry Jeonghan. We didn’t know you were having trouble with any of the concepts or we would have asked you to join us.” 

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “I was busy until just now anyway.” 

“Do you all feel confident with the topics? Or would you like to stay and go over something now that Jeonghan is here?” you ask, trying not to appear hopeful. (And failing at that pretty miserably.)

“Oh no, we’re definitely set. And we had plans,” the first student says with a look over at Jeonghan.

The three of them exchange goodbyes with Jeonghan and head out, allowing Jeonghan to close the door behind them before plopping into a seat at the table in your office. He’s directly across from you, which makes it hard to avoid his eyes. When you do meet his eye, though, he’s got a sneaky, all-knowing look on his face. You don’t like the loot of it one bit.

“What’s with the look?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” he retorts quickly.

“You’re making a face,” you say.

“Are you saying you don’t like my face?” Jeonghan asks, pretending to be offended. 

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” you ask to switch tactics. 

“These are your office hours. I’m here to ask questions about the material,” he says. 

“You don’t need any help with the material so far. I’ve graded your problem sets and the answers have been perfect,” you admit. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he muses. 

“I’m not answering that. It brings me back to my question, though. If you don’t need help, why are you here?” you press.

“Why does it seem like you don’t like me?” he asks.

“I don’t have any feelings about you either way,” you deflect.

“Now, that’s not true,” he disagrees. 

“You’re determined to get under my skin,” you say, half as a joke. 

“Determined to figure you out,” he corrects. “It doesn’t seem like you’re all that excited about being a TA.”

“That’s because I was forced into it,” you blurt out and immediately clap a hand over your mouth. That’s the last thing you meant to say. “I didn’t mean…”

“Now we’re getting somewhere in this relationship,” he says, sitting back into his seat with a satisfied smile. 

You heave another heavy sigh, a common occurrence around this man. “Why are you so determined to figure me out? Why do you care how I feel about you?”

“Because everyone seems to like me right off the bat,” he says. 

“I can see why,” you deadpan. 

“So can I stay? Or do you have very important things to do?” he asks.

“It’s my office hours, so I’m here to help students until the two hours are up,” you admit.

“Perfect.”

The next few times that you hold office hours feature Jeonghan showing up for the second half. It seems deliberate that he doesn’t show up right when they start, especially because you always have at least one other student in your office. If there’s another student there, he joins in to ask questions along with whoever else is there. When it’s just him, his questions are much more personal. It’s obvious that he wants to know you. Know your likes and dislikes, know the things that make you tick, know who you are when you’re not at school. Seems very convinced that the version of you outside the walls of the engineering building is very different from the one he sees. Jeonghan doesn’t seem to realize that he’s slowly getting more and more of a peek into who you really are. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring up your slip about being forced into being a TA. 

It doesn’t make it any easier to be around him.

It should. You should be able to get used to his particular brand of torture. Yet, with each new piece of information you learn, you unlock even more questions. It’s like you can’t ever really figure him out. Or maybe that he doesn’t want you to. He’s very careful to give vague answers about the serious things, while he goes on and on about the things that don’t matter. He’ll spend a solid five minutes talking about the latest Lego he’s building, but then breeze past the few questions you ask about him personally. It usually includes some sort of quip about how he’s wearing you down and how you clearly want to know him better. 

“Bet you thought you were escaping me today,” a voice says, startling you out of your thoughts. 

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp. Your heart beats a mile a minute as you look up to glare at the intruder. 

“No, Yoon Jeonghan. I can see the confusion, though,” he says and you sigh heavily. 

“Office hours are almost over,” you point out. 

“Not for 20 more minutes,” he counters. 

“Right, but I was in the middle of grading something,” you say, indicating the design plans in front of you. He glances over at them.

“Hm,” he says.

“What, Jeonghan?” you ask with exasperation.

“Just doesn’t look like mine is all,” he says and plops into the chair across from you.

“Well obviously,” you say. “Can’t exactly grade your project with you sitting here.” 

For some reason, that makes him break out into a wicked grin. “So you aren’t grading my assignment because you were hoping I’d show up.” 

Ah, yes. Now you see your mistake. Should have definitely seen that coming, too. “You’ve come to every other session. I wasn’t hoping you’d show up again, but it was a fair assumption that you might.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he says placatingly.  “D’you have a question?” you ask. The tension headache you associate with Jeonghan’s presence in your life is threatening to make an appearance. 

“Nope,” he says, popping the last syllable. 

A notification on your phone stops you from responding to him and you unlock it immediately. It seems that Professor Choi needs to give you a stack of assignments and instead of just walking a few doors down the hall, he had to send a message. You drop your phone back on the desk with the message still open and take a calming breath. 

“Everything good?” Jeonghan asks with more care than you’re used to.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back. Have to go pick something up from Professor Choi’s office,” you say, already on your feet and heading towards the door. 

It only takes a minute or two for you to go and come back. For once, you’re thankful for Jeonghan because it gives you the ready-made excuse that you’re just wrapping up office hours with a student waiting for you to return. He doesn’t need to know that student hasn’t ever asked you a class related question without another student present. You’ll take the wins where you can get them. The pain in ass in question is still sitting exactly where he was when you left him. 

He looks up at you as you walk back in, set the folders on the corner of your desk, and sit back down. “You really hate Professor Choi.” 

“I didn’t say that,” you counter quickly. Probably too quickly. 

“You didn’t have to. Sometimes you have a really expressive face,” he comments and looks back down at his phone. 

“Only sometimes?” you wonder. Jeonghan looks back up to regard you.

“It’s always expressive, but you work a little harder to control it in class than you do outside of it,” he decides. “You mentioned something about being forced into this. Why be a TA if you hate it?” 

“I don’t actually hate being a TA,” you clarify. He seems to accept this at face value. “It’s just…I didn’t…no. Why am I doing this with you?”

“Because I’m asking?” he offers. 

“I had never considered being a TA. I wasn’t opposed to it, I just hadn’t really fit it into my schedule. It has been a lot of fun, though,” you say. It’s the first time you’ve noticed how much attention Jeonghan gives you. The way his eyes are on you and it seems like he tunes out any other distractions. 

“How did you end up here, then?” he asks. Any teasing or lightness is gone from his tone. 

“Please don’t make me regret giving you the honest answer,” you say warily. “But, I’m applying for my PhD program. I have everything that I need…except for a final letter of recommendation.”

“Oh, you’re joking,” he says and actually does look offended on your behalf. “He’s making you TA for him in exchange for the letter? That’s why you said you were forced into it?”

“Yup,” you respond, popping the end of the word like he had done earlier.. 

“Well, that’s definitely shitty but I’m still counting myself lucky that you ended up with this class,” he says.

“I can’t figure you out,” you admit. 

“I know.” 

That should be annoying, the way he says that he knows you can’t figure him out. It’s like he’s not even trying to hide that he’s making it difficult to get to know him. Yet, he’s not making it a secret that he wants to get to know you better. There’s just something about him that prompts you to share things you wouldn’t with anyone else. No, that’s dramatic. It’s just easier to share with him than it usually is with someone else that you barely know. 

Despite asking again if Jeonghan has any questions, he insists that he’s fine with just sitting there to keep you company while you have to wait to see if any student comes by in the last minutes of your office hours. For a change, he doesn’t ask any personal questions. Doesn’t try to press you into admitting things that you usually wouldn’t. He just takes out his laptop to make it look like you’re actually helping him in the event that anyone checks in on you. 

Nobody does. The last few minutes pass quickly with you returning to grading the assignment you had been working on. The two of you gather up your things in relative silence and Jeonghan walks with you out to your car so that you can head home. You’re expecting something else or something different, but that’s all there is. Just a walk to your car, a smile with a goodbye, and him heading off in another direction. It’s somehow the strangest and most normal interaction you’ve had with him. It makes you pause to wonder if this is the real version of him. A little quiet, a little reserved. Not being a menace to anything and anyone in his path.

It’s not until you’re back home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine while watching some variety show with Seungkwan that you realize it wasn’t quite the normal interaction you thought it was. 

Jeonghan: i appreciated you telling me the truth about the class today

The message lights up your screen and all you can do is stare at it without being able to believe it. How are you getting a message from Jeonghan with his contact information saved? You’re racking your brain trying to figure out if you gave him your number, or saved his, and just didn’t remember. 

“What’s with your face?” Seungkwan asks.

“Wow, that was nice,” you retort.

He looks over at your phone where the notification still shows a message from Jeonghan. “Finally gave him your number, huh?”

“No, I -” you start when another message comes in.

Jeonghan: you left your phone unlocked when you went to Choi’s office and I figured it was time for us to exchange numbers

Seungkwan, now more invested in your messages than in the show in the background, lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow, he’s good. I see why you like him.”

“I don’t like him, Kwan,” you sigh.

“Sure,” he says dismissively. 

As if to prove something, you make a show of moving your phone over to the end table and turning it over. Seungkwan gives you a Look that plainly says he’s not buying whatever it is you’re trying to sell. Otherwise, he lets you go back to the show that you’re watching without bringing it up again. 

The text thread with Jeonghan seems to haunt you every time you open your messages, at least until there are enough conversations to push it out of your view. Surprisingly, you don’t get any more texts from him when you don’t answer. He also doesn’t show up to your next office hours, which is a bit odd to you. And you can’t vent to Seungkwan about it because he’s still very convinced that it’s only a matter of time before you end up sleeping with Jeonghan. Ridiculous, honestly. Like you would waste your time on someone you’re not even sure you like. 

That carries you through to your next class. It’s a slightly more complicated lecture that Choi does every semester to try and scare students off this path. He claims it’s so that everyone knows what they would be getting into. You suspect that it’s his way of reminding everyone just how smart he is. Not exactly the most flattering trait, but you suppose that he probably doesn’t care about that. Doesn’t need to. He’s been teaching so long that his job is guaranteed at this point. 

The good thing, though, about knowing Choi won’t need you during the entirety of the class is that you get to just sit at the back of the class and do some work. It gives you the chance to get through grading some of the assignments for the class without having to take time away from something else. Let’s you get absorbed into that to tune out the grating sound of Choi’s monotonous voice as he tries his best to warn students off the path. You’re so absorbed that you don’t notice the way that Jeonghan periodically glances over his shoulder to where you’re sitting, trying to catch your attention even for a moment. 

When the class comes to an end, you make your way up to the front as you would any other time. It’s a little irritating to have to check if there’s anything Professor Choi needs like you’re his personal assistant, but you’re also resigned. What you’re not prepared for, though, is that he calls Jeonghan up to the front of the room.

“Yes, Professor?” he says with so much respect and deference that it almost feels real, if you didn’t know how he feels. One of the only personal things you actually know about this mystery of a man.. 

“I really enjoyed your proposal for the final project using Legos,” Choi starts. “Every few semesters, I get someone that seems to think being good at using plastic building blocks means they’d make a good engineer. But, you’ve actually been doing wonderfully in the class. So, I want you to work with my TA here to refine the idea a little bit. I don’t think you’re meeting your full potential with it yet.” 

“Oh, well Professor Choi…” you start and he waves a hand. 

“Surely it isn’t a problem to help foster the best student in my class, is it?” he challenges.

“No, of course not,” you concede. 

Professor Choi wears a triumphant smile. “Good. I’ll leave the two of you to coordinate your schedules. See you next class, Mr. Yoon.” 

The formality of calling students by their family names nearly makes you roll your eyes. It’s only when you note the glint in Jeonghan’s eyes that you catch yourself. The two of you say your goodbyes and a silence settles in Choi’s absence.

“Should I just stop by your office hours tomorrow?” he asks when it’s clear you aren’t going to say anything. 

“Sure, that works,” you say. “You stop by most of them anyway.” 

“Does it bother you that I do?” he asks, a note of something you can’t detect in his tone. Maybe vulnerability. 

That makes you soften. “No, of course not.”

“I can back off if it’s making you uncomfortable,” he says with a forced smile. “Maybe it was too much adding my number to your phone.” 

“We can talk about boundaries when I see you during office hours tomorrow,” you joke. At least it seems to bring a real smile back to his face. 

In a strange turn of events, Jeonghan shows up to your office hours only two minutes after they start. You haven’t even gotten yourself fully unpacked because you weren’t expecting him to show up at the beginning. Not when he seems to show up in the latter half every other time. 

The differences continue as you settle into the work the professor assigned the two of you. Jeonghan pulls out his proposal, something you hadn’t actually seen yet, and talks you through his ideas. His idea had been to submit a design for a brand new structure built to scale entirely using Legos. It’s ambitious in a way because the blocks only come in certain shapes and sizes. You can’t just cut something down to fit the size that you need. It requires a good amount of forethought. But, for someone like Jeonghan who’s taken to the course like a fish to water, it doesn’t seem like it’s quite enough. You can see why the professor asked you to help him work through it a little bit more. It needs to be fleshed out a little further. 

As the two of you go back and forth with ideas about how to give it an element that makes it more impressive, you’re stuck by how easy it is to work side-by-side with him. How well the two of you work together. It’s like every visit before this has been building up to the level of comfort you have now, even if you’re still pretending that you don’t really know him. Maybe you don’t, though. It’s not like he ever gives you real answers to your questions.

“Why Legos?” you ask as the two of you are feeling stuck on where to go to expand on the proposal. 

“Because it’s funny to see how annoyed you get when I bring it up, so I figured it would be funny to imagine you grading my final project that has to do with Legos,” he says with that same look.

“Be serious for once, Jeonghan,” you sigh. “I’m trying to help you with this. It’s the least you could do.” 

“Sorry,” he says after a moment and shifts in his seat. “It’s, well, it’s just always been the way that I zone out and reset. At first, it was just when I needed a break from dealing with people because I had to focus on the instructions. Then, I started to think about how impressive it was that they were able to form these insane shapes with building blocks. Then, it started to get more elaborate with me testing out what worked and what didn’t when I built my own designs.” 

It’s one of the first truly real and truly honest things he’s said to you. Not hiding behind a joke or brushing off an answer. It’s just him and you feel like that one response helps you know him better than all the hours he’s spent in your office up until that point. It also helps you realize what the proposal was missing in the first place: something personal from him. 

Ultimately, what is going to make this project stand out is something that makes it personal. A structural engineer doesn’t really need to design a building or a bridge or any other structure. They do need to design and analyze any of the support systems, though, which can be a dull job at times. Adding something more human will make it stand out. So, you suggest that Jeonghan take it a step further than just modeling a structural support system from Legos. You suggest that he set it up almost like instructions for an established set. But, instead of simple drawings to make it step by step, you suggest that he include little snippets about his previous experiences with using Legos, how he tests it to make sure he structure will hold, and any calculations he does for load capacity and gravity. 

Initially, he seems a little unsure. It’s easy to see that talking about things that are more personal to him, especially for a final project, is uncomfortable. After a lot of reassurances that nobody but you and Professor Choi will see it if he doesn’t want them to, he finally agrees that it’s a good idea. It does seem like he’s at least excited about the prospect now, though. 

While he’s rewriting his proposal to submit to the professor, you get back to what you had planned to do during the first part of your office hours before he showed up: grading assignments. Once again, his isn’t on the stack to be graded. Out of habit, you always grade his first and some time when he’s guaranteed to not be around. It’s oddly comfortable to work like this, grading papers while he types away on his laptop across from you. 

Once he gets through typing up a new proposal, he asks if you would be willing to read it over. You’re just about to suggest that he email it to you, when he just hands his laptop over. Seems unconcerned about having you his laptop. Although he watches you carefully as your eyes scan through the words, it feels like his only concern is what you think about it. Which doesn’t need to be a concern at all. It’s perfect, as far as you’re concerned. 

You tell him as much when you look up with a smile. “I love it.”

“Don’t be nice to me now,” he says nervously as you hand the laptop back over. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You don’t need to spare my feelings now when you’ve been ignoring my texts,” he says like he’s trying to protect himself. 

“So much to unpack there and we’ll return to the texts,” you say, a little exasperated. “But, I’m not being nice about the proposal. It’s perfect and I genuinely can’t find a single thing I’d change. Choi’s going to love it.” 

“Ah, well, he was right in getting your help. I wouldn’t have gotten here on my own,” he admits and it does actually make you smile again. 

“Still your idea,” you say to encourage him.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” he says and you know it’s the real him for a moment. 

“Okay, but back to the texting,” you say to shift.

“The boundaries chat, wonderful,” Jeonghan says, returning to his previous mask of being a menace. 

“You really shouldn’t be going through a stranger’s phone and adding your number,” you chastise. 

“We’re not strangers though, are we?” he challenges. “And I didn’t go through your phone.”

“No?” you ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Your phone was still lit up when you left so I called myself quickly and then created a new contact, and then locked your phone and put it back,” he says like it’s the most normal sentence in the world.

“That’s insane?” you state with a level of shock.

“I really wasn’t trying to cross some sort of line,” he admits with a shocking level of sincerity. “I just really like getting to know you and I figured you’d feel weird about giving a student in your class your number, even though you’re still a student as well. So, I just wanted to make it easier. If you don’t want me to have it, you can delete it right out of my phone.”

Jeonghan holds his unlocked phone out to you and it’s open to your contact. For some insane reason, you do actually believe what he said. It’s easy to see how he might want to befriend you and be hesitant on how to do that. He strikes you as the kind of person that can put on a mask of liking to be social, but really would much rather be at home or in a small setting like in your office with you. And you do actually enjoy having him around, even if you keep trying to pretend that he’s basically a stranger to you. He’s not wrong, either. You would have felt weird about exchanging numbers with him. You’ll never admit that to him. 

He must see the hesitation on your face because he retracts his hand. Waits for you to say something, though. “I guess it’s not the worst thing that you have my number.” 

“That’s almost a positive,” he jokes. “You could give a guy false hope that you actually might be starting to like me.”

“Oh, now I wouldn’t go that far,” you quickly tack on. “Wouldn’t want you to get a big head.”

“Have you seen the grades I’m getting? I already know I’m doing something right,” he brags. 

“I have seen your grades since I’m usually the one grading them,” you remind him. “So, I have to balance it out.”

“You just wanna break my heart over and over again,” he whines.

“You’ll survive,” you deadpan. 

Everything seems to carry on as it always does. You have to make sure you’re keeping up with all of your actual classes for your degree. Grade assignments when Professor Choi hands them off to you. Give feedback on the upcoming topics. Most importantly, you find  plenty of time to disengage from all the hustle of classes. To enjoy time with friends where you can let your brain just wander onto things that don’t matter nearly as much. 

Even though you don’t ever text Jeonghan first, it doesn’t seem deterred because you do always answer the messages that he sends to you. Some of them are idle thoughts throughout the day. Others are questions that he wants answers to and seems to think he’s more likely to get them over text than during the hours he spends in your office. Your favorites, though, are when he texts you some wildly out of pocket statement and then gets you to debate him on it because it’s always something completely inane. Something meaningless. It gets you so fired up, though. 

“He’s so infuriating,” you complain as you forcely set your phone down on the couch next to you. 

“I’m guessing we’re talking about Jeonghan,” Seungkwan says from his position on the other end of the couch.

“Why would you immediately jump to Jeonghan?” you ask. 

“Bestie, we haven’t talked about anyone else but Jeonghan all semester,” he says. You fling a pillow at your roommate.

“First, you’re being dramatic. And second, yes I talk about him a lot. He’s infuriating,” you say.

“Whatever you say,” Seungkwan says dismissively.

“I might hate him,” you say.

“They say hate sex is the best sex,” he says without taking his eyes off his phone.

“And they say killing your nosey roommate isn’t actually a crime,” you retort. 

Seungkwan looks up at you and smiles. “Let’s do it baby. I know the law.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time around Vernon,” you scoff. 

“Maybe, but if you kill me, who’s going to lend their ear to you and listen to your troubles?” he asks.

“Van Gogh,” you answer immediately.

“He’s dead,” Seungkwan says with an arched eyebrow, carefully avoiding the more obvious retort.

“And so are you to me right now,” you say flatly. 

“Touche,” he says with a light laugh. “What’s he done this time that’s got you all pissy?”

“He’s spent the last 20 minutes debating with me over whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich,” you say, expecting Seungkwan to think it’s just as ridiculous as you. 

What you’re not expecting, though you should be, is for him to pick up Jeonghan’s side in the debate and make you rehash everything you’ve already talked about. It sounds like such an innocuous topic. Something so outlandish that it could possibly spark debate for more than a few minutes. Yet, here you are, having the same debate all over again. It makes you even more heated despite not having a stake or opinion before Jeonghan asked you. In fact, you had never even considered the question. It was one of the most effective he had posed since he started sending you random questions or opinions like this. 

Somehow, though, your biggest mistake is telling Jeonghan that your roommate got just as invested as he had about the topic. Worse when you told Jeonghan that Seungkwan was on his side. It made it immediately obvious that you could not ever let those two meet. It would spell an instant demise for any remaining sanity you had left. The realization that they would be instant best friends is terrifying. 

The debate about whether or not hotdogs are sandwiches lasts all the way until the next day when Jeonghan shows up at your office hours, right at the start. The look on his face tells him that he’s about to carry on the text conversation. But, thankfully, he falls silent when you say that you actually want to get some grading done unless he actually has a question about the course material. It makes him soften, actually, and he agrees that he’ll sit at the little table and work on some of his own homework. It doesn’t really give the impression that he’s asking you for help, though you’re sure that you could sell it if you needed to. 

Normally, it’s not all that distracting to have Jeonghan in your space. Probably because he’s there so often that you’re kind of used to him by now. That’s a thought you don’t allow yourself to dwell on too long. It’s easier to maintain the idea that you kind of hate him than to consider what your real feelings might be. Yet, those thoughts seem to be swirling in your head just by him existing in the same space as you. If he’s equally affected, then you can’t tell. His fingers seem to fly across his keyboard as he works steadily on something. 

Without warning, his voice interrupts the rhythm you finally find. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve never asked permission before,” you note, but don’t look up.

“I wasn’t sure if it was an office hours question,” he says with a little hesitation. 

That does get you to look over at him. “Is it about the course material?”

“No,” he says.

“Shocking,” you sigh. “Well, whatever it is, let’s have it.”

“Do you want to go out and get dinner sometime?” he asks, looking more vulnerable than usual.

It’s enough to make your heart both constrict and threaten to beat out of your chest. Does he know that you’ve been sitting here internally debating what your actual feelings towards him are? Has it been that obvious on your face? 

“With you?” you ask to buy yourself time. 

“That would be the idea, yes,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t know…” you start.

“You don’t know because you’re trying to spare my feelings? Or you’re not sure for some reason?” he asks to clarify.

That’s such a crossroads kind of question. You’re not actually sure what the answer is yourself. All you know is that you feel immediate panic at the thought of one of the professors, especially Professor Choi, seeing you out with him. It’s not that there are any rules about TAs and students dating. After all, TAs are just students themselves. But, since you’re doing most of the grading, setting some of the assignments, and even leading some of the classes, it’s frowned upon. It could give the student actually in the class some kind of perceived advantage. The thoughts just go rapidly flying through your brain as you look over at Jeonghan’s expectant face.

You decide on some version of the truth: that it doesn’t matter what you think, it’s not a good idea for you to blur that line. That if someone from the university saw you out, that it could possibly jeopardize everything you’ve spent years working on. That Professor Choi seems even more old school than most of the other professors. You’ve already sacrificed so much. It’s just not a risk you think you can take. 

What you don’t say: that the question actually confuses you. That you can see yourself saying yes to finally figure out what exactly it is that’s going on with you and Jeonghan. You wonder what type of place he would pick. Wonder what he’s like when it’s really just the two of you without the risk of someone else butting in. You wonder if maybe he’ll answer all those personal questions that he’s so fond of dodging when he’s sitting in your office. It actually makes you wonder if saying yes is worth taking a risk when you’ve been so careful with everything in your entire academic career. It’s the kind of thought that really terrifies you even more. This is a man that you can’t even figure out your feelings towards and yet you’re considering taking a massive risk. 

It’s one of the most intense office hours you hold and you’re left with more questions than answers. 

It’s been another exhausting day between your own classes, research, and doing work as a TA. Sure, there are definite upsides to your schedule. It helps you feel like you have a complete grasp on the material. It also helps you feel like you might be well suited to being a lecturer or even a professor yourself down the line. You also know that you’re giving more to your time as a TA than you need to. It’s just that you don’t want to leave anything to chance. The stronger the recommendation from Choi, the better. 

When you get to your apartment, Seungkwan is in the kitchen with Vernon and Chan. Which should be a concerning sight, since none of them are exactly great cooks, but you’re too tired to really care. You’re also kind of starving and whatever they’re making smells good. What’s the worst that could happen? So you call out quick greetings before heading into your room to drop off your things and change. You reemerge to the sounds of them bickering back and forth.

“Hey, do you want to try some of what we’re making?” Chan calls.

“She’s going to say no,” Seungkwan says.

“I’m starving. I’m down to try whatever it is,” you disagree. 

“Looks like Chan wins this one,” Vernon teases. 

A beep from your phone distracts you from engaging in the bickering back and forth. It’s the last thing you’re expecting, though it shouldn’t be. Ever since Jeonghan managed to get your number, and heard your half-hearted chat about boundaries, he’s been bothering you whenever he feels like it. 

Jeonghan: have you thought about what I asked? You: no Jeonghan: don’t believe you You: my answer hasn’t changed Jeonghan: that it's not a good idea? You: exactly Jeonghan: that’s not a no You: isn’t it? Jeonghan: listen, I respect you and if you tell me no, I won’t ask again Jeonghan: the only thing I’m going to ask if you actually think about it before saying no You: fine

“Hello? Are you there?” Seungkwan asks, snapping his fingers in front of your face. 

“Huh?” you ask.

“Oh, she’s gone girl,” Chan says with a laugh.

“Who were you texting?” Seungkwan asks. He gives you a look that screams he’s about to tease the shit out of you if you’re honest.

“Oh, nobody important. Just a friend,” you say dismissively. 

“Are we calling Jeonghan a friend now?” Seungkwan teases. 

“It wasn’t Jeonghan,” you say with an eye roll.

“Who’s Jeonghan?” Vernon asks.

“I think he’s that guy we’ve been betting on when she’s gonna finally give in and sleep with him,” Chan says in an undertone to Vernon.

“I’m not going to sleep with…hang on. What the fuck?” you ask, wheeling around on Seungkwan. “Have you been betting on me again?” 

“Only when you’re being an idiot,” Seungkwan says with a shrug. 

“Wait, again?” Vernon asks.

“Bro, we have been involved in other bets,” Chan says.

“I need new friends,” you grumble.

From there, it devolves into the usual bickering that you associate with your friend group. Sometimes you wonder how you even got so sucked into this friend group where they’re two or three years younger than you. You’re incredibly thankful for them, though, even in moments like this where you want to strangle them. 

Dinner moves into watching something and playing a game. It always goes the same way. Chan or Vernon take care of picking what to watch since they watch more TV and movies than you and Seungkwan. Conversely, Seungkwan usually picks the game, which is never a good idea because he always picks something that he’s good at. It doesn’t really matter to you, at least. Your brain tends to be fried from classes and research and all that. It’s nice to let them just make the decisions and chime in when you have something to say.

Thankfully, the conversations quickly move past your friends and their complete conviction that you have feelings for Jeonghan to much less serious topics. Sitting there, though, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace even in the chaos. Even when you say that you need new friends, you know that you wouldn’t trade these friends for the world. 

It’s been just over a week since you promised to give Jeonghan’s question actual thought. You’re still not entirely sure why you agreed. It’s not like you’re actually going to say anything other than no. It’s been a little weird, though, because Jeonghan hasn’t brought it up again, either. It’s like he’s actually been true to his word. He even skipped your office hours when he would usually show up just to bother you and pretend to ask questions. 

Since your workload has been a little light, you agree to go out for drinks with Seungkwan and some friends. It’s a much needed night to unwind and just not think about any of the issues that plague you during the week. It’s a night of ridiculous conversations while you all give each other a hard time about nothing that really matters. Eventually, as is always the way it goes, Seungkwan gets up and kicks off some karaoke. It’s a blessing and a curse. He’s got an amazing voice and you feel like you should be paying to hear someone sing that well. But, then he wants other people to join him and none of you are that keen to embarrass yourselves by following him. 

Casting your eyes around the bar, they land on someone in a leather jacket. As you watch, he shrugs it off and sets it on the back of his chair. There’s something compellingly beautiful about him. He runs a hair through his short, perfectly textured black hair and turns his face slightly to the side. You’re appreciating his profile for a second before it hits you. This isn’t some stranger. It’s Jeonghan. It’s just that he’s clearly cut his hair and styled it differently. You quickly return your eyes to your group and only can hope that he hasn’t noticed you yet. Then again, Seungkwan has been loud and singing before returning to your table. Most people seem to have noticed him. Still, since Jeonghan hasn’t texted you or come over to say anything, you figure that maybe he hasn’t seen you. No matter what, you down another drink to forget about checking him out. 

By the time it’s your turn to go up to the bar and get another round of drinks, you’ve mostly pushed the thought of Jeonghan out of your mind. With your back to his table, it’s been much easier to act like he doesn’t exist. Once you’re at the bar, it’s a little more difficult. Your eyes find his table without even meaning to. His jacket is still there, but he’s not. 

“Looking for me?” a soft voice asks from just beside you. 

It makes you jump a little to realize that he’s somehow right next to you. You try your hardest to act like you’re unaffected when you turn to face him. Try to act like you didn’t realize he was there. Kind of fail at that, honestly, because you’re one drink past the point of being able to pull it off. “Hey, Jeonghan. How long have you been here?”

He smiles that mischievous smile that always makes him look like he knows something that you don’t. “I saw you looking over at my table. You knew I was here.”

“I almost don’t recognize you with the new haircut and that leather jacket,” you say and only realize your mistake a second too late. 

“The leather jacket back at my table?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “I saw you checking your phone too.” 

“Were you watching me?” you challenge.

“Yes,” he admits freely. “You’re nice to look at.” 

“Oh, well that’s not…I didn’t mean,” you stutter out, saved by the bartender setting a small tray down of drinks for you and your friends. 

Somehow, though, because life isn’t fair (and neither is Seungkwan), your best friend picks that moment to waltz over claiming he wants to help with drinks. What he really seems to want is to introduce himself to Jeonghan. Even goes as far as pretending he hasn’t heard Jeonghan’s name before. Seungkwan manages to sell it better too and you think it would probably pass with anyone else that wasn’t paying such sharp attention. It’s only then that you notice Jeonghan doesn’t have a drink in hand. Doesn’t really seem the slightest bit drunk. Which is fine until Seungkwan manages to make it even worse by inviting Jeonghan and his friends to come join your group. 

Then, something else that’s kind of weird happens. Jeonghan, who has spent the entirety of the semester up until about a week ago terrorizing you, barely says anything to you at all. He talks about his favorite artists with Seungkwan. Asks Chan for suggestions on some movies that he’s recently seen. Even laughs about random ass memes with Vernon. His friends, whose names you can’t even remember, fit in just as seamlessly. It’s a little…well, uncomfortable. It’s giving you entirely too much time to think and you don’t like it.

So, you do the only reasonable thing and you keep getting drinks. Stay just on the right side of drunk so that you’re aware of your surroundings, but not sober. It makes it easier to deal with everything happening around you.

As the night continues on, your merged groups seem to ebb and flow. Some people wander over, drawn in by the fact that it seems like a fun place to be. Other times, some wander off to make new friends or have new conversations. This is especially true of Seungkwan, which you’re used to. Your roommate is one of the most social people that you know. And then people start to make their excuses to leave as it gets later. How you end up outlasting Chan is a mystery, since he seems to have endless energy. It’s fine, though. You still have your roommate.

Well, until he tells you, without nearly the amount of shame that he should have, that he’s going to be bringing someone home that he got to talking to about karaoke. It’s a little unlike him, at least until you realize that the person isn’t a stranger. They’re definitely someone that Seungkwan has talked to before. It still leaves you a little lost on what to do or where to go.

“I never ask you for anything,” Seungkwan pleads. It’s patently false. He’s always asking you for things, just never things like this. 

“I could text Chan or Vernon to see if they’ll let me crash on their couch,” you say, trying to quickly clear the cloudiness from your brain. 

“Don’t they put their phones into DND as soon as they get home?” Seungkwan asks.

“My only other option is to just go home and put headphones on,” you say.

“You could come crash at my place. My roommate won’t be back from a trip til tomorrow,” Jeonghan offers. 

“Perfect! Thank you!” Seungkwan rushes out.

“Um? Seungkwan? You can’t just send me to some stranger's house?” you protest.

“He’s not a stranger. He’s been in your class all semester and at your office hours nearly every day,” Seungkwan says with an eye roll. Jeonghan looks vindicated hearing this piece of information. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“It’ll be fine. I can sleep in his room and you can sleep in mine. I’ll even make sure you have fresh sheets if you’re worried,” he says. 

This is definitely a bad idea. Even though you’re not drunk, you’re definitely not sober enough to pretend you’re not at least a little bit interested in Jeonghan. Everything about him seems to be a study in contrasts. Confident but not in some toxic masculinity type of way. Chaotic but serious at the same time. Silly to where he would say he joined a class because he’s good at Legos but also genuinely smart. And beautiful in a way so few men seem to be. He’s just something entirely his own.

You shake your head because you realize you’re spacing out. This is a terrible idea and one you probably wouldn’t agree to if you were sober. It’s not like he’s actually a stranger, though. Jeonghan seems to have realized the conclusion before you open your mouth. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Dangerous question,” Jeonghan says with a glint in his eyes. 

“I love you,” Seungkwan says and wraps you up in a hug before skipping off. 

“Are you ready to leave, then?” Jeonghan asks when it’s just the two of you.

“Yeah, might as well,” you say. He nods, looking a little unsure for the first time since you’ve known him and turns to grab his jacket. Says a quick goodbye to his friends and you try to ignore the looks they cast over at you. 

“Let’s go,” he says a minute later.

“Are we calling an Uber or something?” you ask.

“I’m sober because I rode my bike here,” he says as he leads the way outside.

“I’m sorry, you rode your what?” you ask, brain slow to catch up with what he’s saying. It’s then that you notice he didn’t just grab his jacket. He’s got a helmet as well. 

“Bike,” he says and indicates a motorcycle parked outside the bar. 

That brings you up a little short. It’s the last thing you would have expected when you thought of this man. Though, maybe it shouldn’t have been. After all, you said he was a study in contrasts. Isn’t this just another one of those? 

Somehow, the more you look, the more it seems to suit him. It’s not some big, clunky bike. Not what you typically think of when you think of a motorcycle. It’s sharp and beautiful, just like he is, even if you can only admit that in your head. He pulls open a compartment that seems to be under the backseat and hands over a helmet. 

“Promise I won’t go too fast,” he says with a softer smile than you’ve seen on him before. Like he’s actually trying to reassure you. 

Sure, it’s not the first time you’ve been on a bike. It’s just that of all the ways you could have seen this night ending, this wasn’t one of them. At least you’re not feeling too self conscious as you slide onto the bike behind Jeonghan and wrap your arms around his waist. You miss the way his breath stutters as you settle in close to him. Miss the way his heart starts to beat out of his chest because you’re too focused on getting comfortable. Don’t even think twice about clinging to his lean frame. But, even with the drinks, it’s hard to ignore the way that your body slots perfectly against his. Or the way your thighs squeeze against his hips. Maybe there’s a lot more to whatever has been happening than you’ve been admitting to yourself. 

Once you reach Jeonghan’s apartment, he carefully helps you off the bike and then puts a bit of distance between you again. It’s the first time that you notice he seems nervous, like maybe, you think, he might be reconsidering if this was a good idea. There’s not really much you can do about that now. You promised Seungkwan that he could have some privacy in the apartment and you’re already here. It can’t possibly be so bad that you really regret coming here. It could even help you sort through the very complicated feelings that are making their presence known. 

Inside the apartment it’s incredibly cozy. Not at all like you imagine two single guys would live while they’re in school. It’s not overly cluttered, but it doesn’t feel cold either. Jeonghan disappears as soon as you both have your shoes off, which lets you look around at some of the decorations. He returns with a spare t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. Despite your insistence that it’s fine, he just presses them to you and indicates where the bathroom is for you to change. 

It feels oddly…comfortable. Like this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him outside of class or your office. It also makes you take a little longer to change because you have to process whatever you’re feeling. Since you’re not sure exactly what to do after you change, you peek your head out into the living area. Jeonghan is setting some snacks and water out with the TV on in the background. You take it as a sign that you’re supposed to come out and join him. Momentarily, he disappears into his room and reappears also wearing more comfortable clothes. 

The confusion only gets even worse from there. Maybe it’s just that Seungkwan’s gotten into your head. Since you’re finally processing that you might be interested in being something a little more with Jeonghan, you expect things to go a certain way. Seungkwan, and your other friends, for that matter, seem to think it’s only a matter of time before you cross over into being more than friends. Subconsciously, your brain must have latched onto that. Even wanted it, a little. But, now you’re here, and Jeonghan doesn’t do anything. He’s not the smooth, confident person that you’ve gotten to know over the course of the semester. He doesn’t try to pull any moves on you. Just makes sure that you’re comfortable, that you like the snacks, and that you like the show he has on.

It all feels like it’s a little too much and so Jeonghan shows you the way to his bedroom. Your nerves feel frayed because surely, this is the moment where things finally shift. Surely this is when he makes whatever move he’s held off on making up until this point. Quickly, you brush off the need to change the sheets. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal if something else happens. Without giving your brain a chance to overthink it, you lean in to give him a hug. His whole body tenses for a second and you’re about to pull away, when he finally relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“You know, you can just sleep in your own bed,” you offer carefully.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he says through an emotion that you can’t place. 

“I won’t be. Plus, I’d hate to force you into your roommate’s bed,” you suggest again, meeting his eye to reinforce the point.

“Oh, well, it’s…” he starts, eyes avoiding your gaze.

“Really, Jeonghan, it’s fine. Your bed is big,” you say.

“Okay,” he agrees and walks to the other side of the bed.

It’s confusing, to say the least. He slides into the opposite side of the bed without meeting your eyes again. You’re not exactly sure how to give him another sign that you want something else to happen without making it too obvious, especially because it’s not clear if he wants that. The guy constantly in your office was just on the right side of flirty. Always trying to wear you down. This Jeonghan in his apartment is much quieter, more reserved. Like he’s not really sure what happens now that he’s gotten you outside of school like he claims he’s wanted. 

“D’you usually sleep with the TV on?” he asks and you pull a face.

“I’m not a psycho,” you snort. 

“Good to know after I let you into my apartment,” he jokes back and turns on the TV anyway. “I’ll set a timer just in case we both fall asleep.” 

Confusing. You’re laying in bed with this person that up until tonight you referred to as basically a stranger and there’s just…nothing happening. The two of you are plenty close enough that you could brush up against him, yet not touching at all. His attention seems to stay forward on the TV. Occasionally, he shifts to get more comfortable, but he doesn’t get onto his phone or even really look over at you. 

Thankfully, the bed is comfortable and without even realizing it, you drift off to sleep laying on your side, facing Jeonghan. The last thing you remember is looking up at his face. Appreciating the cut of his jaw and the way the light from the TV threw his features into contrast. Then nothing but the easiest sleep you’ve had after a night of drinking.

In the morning, when it’s too early to wake up after a late night but late enough that the sun seeps through the curtains, you have a momentary panic wondering where you are. Slowly, the night before settles back into your brain and you relax into the bed. It’s only when you feel a weight around your middle that you wonder if everything is coming back. It is, though. You think back to the last things you remember before falling asleep. Jeonghan was safely on his side of the bed. Now, his arm is draped over your waist and he’s breathing rhythmically like he’s still fast asleep. For once, instead of overthinking it, you just slow your brain back down and drift back into sleep. After all, this is one the right path to what you wanted the night before. 

The sun is fully up when you wake up again if the light streaming around the curtains is any indication. That’s not the only difference, either. There’s no weight around your waist and, when you look over your shoulder, the other side of the bed is empty. Which isn’t entirely surprising when your phone tells you that it’s nearly noon. It’s very unlike you to sleep in that late, but it makes sense. You’re just thankful that Jeonghan insisted on giving you so much water and something to make sure you didn’t wake up with a headache. Even though you’re still a little tired, you’re not hungover and that feels like a miracle. 

But, what do you do now? Nothing happened last night, despite genuinely feeling like Jeonghan had some level of interest in you. But, then he did share the bed with you and curl up to you during the night. Maybe that was his subconscious way of showing what he couldn’t say. You’re out of the bed and nearly out the bedroom door when you hear voices drifting in from somewhere else in the apartment. Voices, plural. One is clearly Jeonghan, but the other sounds female and that stops you in your tracks. 

The decision is immediate once you hear the second voice laughing at something Jeonghan says. You open your group chat with Seungkwan, Chan, and Vernon to ask if any of them are around to pick you up. Chan is the first, and fastest, to respond, saying to drop your location and he’ll be out the door to get you in a minute without any questions asked. That’s more than you’re expecting and you’re incredibly thankful. Makes it feel like one weight has been lighted as you quickly and quietly get dressed back into the clothes you wore the night before. 

Chan texts you to let you know he’s only a few minutes out. That’s your queue to actually leave the bedroom and make an appearance out in the rest of the apartment. Jeonghan’s back is to you and it looks like he’s got a cup of coffee next to him. The other person you heard from the bedroom is, in fact, a woman. She’s stunning in an effortless way that actually makes your head hurt a little bit. It has absolutely nothing to do with the drinks the night before, either. Her eyes land on you and there’s a smile you can’t place. It could be saying that she knows she won, despite whatever effort you made. Something on her face must tip Jeonghan off because he turns around.

And it’s worse than you thought, immediately. The smile on his face is both welcoming and soft, like he’s actually happy to see you. It only makes the whole thing more confusing. Why is he looking at you like that with one of the most beautiful people sitting across from him? 

“You’re awake,” he says, still smiling. “I hope Hana here didn’t make too much noise.” 

“Sorry, babe, I only have one volume setting,” she, Hana, apparently, says with another smile you can’t place. 

“Do you want coffee? Something to eat?” Jeonghan says and starts to get out of his chair.

“No, no, it’s fine. My friend is almost here to pick me up. Thanks for letting me crash last night,” you say without fully meeting Jeonghan’s eyes. It means you miss the confusion that settles in there.

Without a backward glance, you’re out the door and down the elevator. It’s only another minute or so before Chan pulls up, shockingly by himself, and smiles softly at you as you get into his car. All he asks is if you’re hungry and then starts navigating to your favorite place to get breakfast food that’s open at least into the early afternoon. It’s exactly what you need right now. 

Chan lets you just be in your head while he drives with music playing softly in the background. It might be a dangerous decision, honestly. All you can think about are reasons for that person, Hana, your brain supplies automatically, to be in Jeonghan’s apartment like that. His roommate wasn’t home, to the best of your knowledge, so that means she was there for Jeonghan. Was that his girlfriend? Was that why he was so reluctant to do anything the night before? On some level, you do know that’s probably not the right answer. The rational part of your brain knows that he wouldn’t be so calm if that was his girlfriend. There’s no space in your brain for rationality right now, though. So, you’re going to stew in the feelings that she could be dating someone. 

“Do you wanna talk about whatever happened last night?” Chan asks once you’re sitting opposite of each other in a booth. 

“Not really,” you say. “Nothing happened last night, though. So, you don’t have to worry about whoever wins the bet.” 

“I’m not worried about some stupid bet. I’m worried about you,” he says. 

You shrug. “I think I might actually like him.”

“No shit,” Chan says with a knowing smile.

“You didn’t let me finish. I think I might like him and I don’t think it matters,” you say.

“Start at the beginning and we’ll figure this out together.” 

It’s been a week since whatever happened at Jeonghan’s apartment and you haven’t spoken a word to him since leaving. Not that he hasn’t tried to speak to you. After breakfast with Chan, you realized you had both texts and missed calls from Jeonghan trying to figure out what went wrong. Those stay unanswered. Even if you’re being stupid, you can’t really bring yourself to behave in a different way. When the next class comes around, you avoid his eyes as much as possible. The one or two times you do look over at him, he looks incredibly hurt and confused. It’s funny, you think, how he’s the one that’s acting put out by this whole situation when you’re the one who had to wake up to some other woman in his apartment without understanding anything. 

That leads to your first office hours. Thankfully, Jeonghan doesn’t show up to those like he normally would. The office feels a lot quieter, even though other students stop by to ask questions. It just all feels very professional and detached. Not comfortable in the way it does when he drops by. It’s hard to admit, even to yourself, that you had gotten used to having him around. That you even looked forward to it. Somehow, you’re not really sure how, Jeonghan became one of your favorite parts of every day you saw him. That realization makes you want to crawl into your bed and hide forever. No matter what, it doesn’t feel like you’ll have the option to go back to that. It sucks to realize it just took you too long to come to the very obvious conclusion. 

Now, at least, it’s the weekend again so you have a short reprieve from all things school related. Well, all things Jeonghan related because you still have your own homework to handle, assignments to grade, and a new week to prepare for. At the very least, you deserve a little bit of a treat. Texting the group chat makes you realize, though, that a lot of your friends seem to have their own things going on. 

Seungkwan is out spending the day with the same person that he brought home last weekend. They seem like they’re really enjoying getting to know each other, which you’re rooting for wholeheartedly. You want your roommate and best friend to be happy. Vernon is kind of vague saying that he’s got other plans. With anyone else, you might think that he’s also seeing someone. You just know that he tends to be a little spacy when it comes to sharing plans. Knowing Vernon, he’s probably just off with some friend of his. Once again, Chan comes through and says that he could really use a coffee. Apparently, there’s some new cafe by him that he’s been wanting to try out. It feels like an excuse because Chan will absolutely go anywhere by himself, but you take it all the same. He’s actually probably the easiest of your friends to speak to about this, even if he’s younger than you are. 

One sip into your drink proves that this is the best decision for a Saturday afternoon. Chan chatters away about the things that have been going on in his life. He’s taking more dance classes in every free moment he has and it’s nice to see the way his face lights up talking about it. He certainly seems happier than any time you see him talking about his actual classes. Think about suggesting he give up one thing to pursue something else that would truly make him happy. His face is different when he’s happy like this. It makes it obvious how strained he feels with everything else.

A laugh pierces through the crowd and it gives you the worst sense of deja vu. Suddenly, you’re back in Jeonghan’s apartment. Which is crazy, right? What are the odds that he and the mystery woman are in this same coffee shop at the same time as you and Chan?

Not impossible, apparently. Well, at least in part. Your eyes cast around for the source of the laugh when they land on the mystery woman sitting with someone else that you don’t recognize. Your brain tries to stutter over the name before it forces you to think, Hana. Just as you’re about to look away, her eyes find yours like she could sense someone looking at her. She flashes a smile, which you try to return, before looking back at Chan and whatever story he’s sharing. 

That should be it. Except, when she appears by your side a moment later, you realize it’s not. She has someone else you’ve never seen in tow behind her. Chan, not always as quick on the uptake, looks up at her in confusion.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you remembered me…” she begins and you’re quick to answer.

“I do, yeah. Sorry about the other day,” you say. Chan’s face has a look of dawning comprehension. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. I didn’t even catch your name,” Hana says and you open your mouth to share before she cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “No, Jeonghan told me. He’s done nothing but speak about you for weeks now.”

“And I thought I could be annoying,” the mystery person says from behind Hana.

“Oh, I’m so rude. This is my boyfriend, Joshua,” Hana introduces and your brain short circuits. What? Boyfriend?

“And Jeonghan’s roommate. I hit traffic coming back last weekend or I would’ve been there to meet you as well. Make the morning even more awkward,” he jokes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, rapidly trying to make your brain connect. “You two are dating?”

“Yup!” Hana says with a smile and then notices your face. “Wait, what did you think? That I was dating Jeonghan?”

“Oh, well, I don’t know. I just thought…it was still early-ish in the day and…” you stumble awkwardly. 

“Babe, no. Jeonghan is very single. I was just early getting there because Joshua hit traffic and I was excited to see him,” she says. “He will kill me for saying this, but he hasn’t talked about anyone but you since the class started.”

“Please note that I had no part in spilling the beans. I have to live with him,” Joshua jokes. 

“And just so there’s no more confusion, I’m one of her closest friends, Chan. Not a boyfriend or date or anything like that,” Chan says. 

“Oh!” Hana says and turns to Joshua. “Jeonghan was mentioning him, remember? There was a movie we were supposed to watch.” 

“Yeah, he did mention that,” Joshua agrees.

“Anyway, I’m sure you have lots to think about, but I’m nosy and I figured I’d say hi. Have a good weekend!” Hana says, full of more energy than anyone should have on the weekend. Joshua gives a smile and follows her out of the shop.

As soon as they’re out of sight, you drop your head into your hands. All that worrying and you could have just talked to him. Could have avoided this whole idiotic situation. 

“Feeling kinda dumb right now?” Chan asks. You raise your head to glare at him. “I did say it didn’t seem like he was seeing someone.” 

“Not the time, Chan,” you say.

“It’s completely the time. Look, yeah you fucked up by not just talking to him. But, you admitted that you liked him. He clearly likes you. Just talk to him. I’m sure you can fix it,” he says. 

“I don’t know,” you start. “I was such an asshole.” 

“I mean, yeah, you kind of were. But, he spent that whole night after Seungkwan invited them over getting to know your friends. Genuinely interested in everything we said. He’s not doing that just to make more friends. He wants to show you that he can fit into your life without anything really having to change,” Chan reasons and it brings you up short.

“When did you get so smart?” you question.

“I’ve always been smart, you just treat me like a baby,” he says with an eye roll.

“You are the baby in this friend group,” you point out. 

“Just go figure out how to make it up to him,” Chan says. 

Even though you know it was a terrible miscommunication, you’re not sure how to approach Jeonghan for the rest of the weekend. You’re also not sure how the conversation will go. So, despite knowing better, you decide to just take your time. Get yourself completely set for the coming week and figure that you’ll see Jeonghan during the next class. As much as you want resolution, you don’t feel like it would be enough for you to text him and ask to talk. That could also be taken wildly out of context.

So, you prepare for the next class. Make sure you look a little cuter than you normally would for class. Go over what you’re going to say with both Seungkwan and Chan, who’s gotten incredibly invested in the whole situation. It’s another class where you’ll just be sitting in the back and listening, which might also make it easier. You’re a little early getting there so that you can set all your things down. 

But, then the class starts to fill in and you don’t see Jeonghan. Professor Choi closes the door, doesn’t comment on Jeonghan’s absence, and just starts teaching. It’s unusual. He normally takes attendance. Instead, he does a head count of the students and gets on with teaching. Everyone else is there. Jeonghan is the only one missing. You figure that maybe he reached out about missing the class. It leaves a weird feeling in your stomach, though, because you wonder if he’s okay. What if something happened to him? 

At the end of class, you join Choi at the front as you do on every other occasion. The answer comes immediately when Choi looks up at you. “Mr. Yoon emailed me before the class to say that he was feeling very sick and wouldn’t be able to make it. I assured him you would send over some notes on the subject matter today.” 

You try to avoid any relief that you feel at knowing it’s at least nothing that serious. It sucks that he’s sick, but at least he wasn’t in an accident or anything. You need to stop going to the worst case scenario, honestly. “Oh, sure. I’m sure he’s already ahead on the material, but I’ll send it over.”

“He’s such a good student,” Choi agrees. “Thank you for helping him with the proposal. I’m not sure if you read it over, but it’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“I did read it because he wrote it during my office hours. But, it was all him,” you say. 

Professor Choi looks up at you like he knows that’s not entirely true. “I can feel your influence on it. In a good way, of course. You have a habit of helping people get to their best results.”

“Thank you,” you say earnestly. It’s the most genuine compliment he’s ever given you. He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a folder to hand to you. “Did I miss picking up an assignment to grade?”

“No,” he says with a smile you’re not used to seeing. “This is your letter for the recommendation packet. I already sent it in, but I thought you might like to see a copy.”

“Thank you so much, Professor Choi,” you say with a relieved sigh. 

“You’re incredibly bright, probably one of the brightest students I’ve ever taught,” he says and it takes you completely by surprise. “I know it’s probably seemed like I’ve been hard on you because I have been. I knew there was even more potential in you waiting to be coaxed out. I also know I made it much easier on John to ask for a recommendation. But, between you and I, your letter is much more complimentary and personal than his was. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish.” 

It all suddenly makes sense. Everything that Choi has put you through since asking for his letter. It almost makes you laugh. “I’m sorry for doubting your motives for asking me to TA this class.”

Now, Professor Choi does actually laugh. “Oh, no need to apologize for that. It’s much easier to get the most out of a student when they think they have something to prove.”

“You may be onto something,” you agree.

“I’ll see you next class,” he says and closes up his briefcase to head off.

With that bit of good news, you feel a lot lighter. You almost don’t even need to read the letter (though, you definitely will later). It’s enough to know that your entire future is still open ahead of you. It makes all of the miscommunication with Jeonghan feel incredibly silly. It also makes you feel a little bolder. So, you figure that you still have the location for Jeonghan’s apartment dropped in a group chat. Why not get him some food and medicine to help him feel better? It’ll give you a chance to apologize for how you’ve handled everything up until this point. 

That idea seems a little poorly thought out when you show up at Jeonghan’s apartment with soup and medication. He answers the door, looking completely fine healthwise and confused to see you standing on the other side of the door. 

“Professor Choi said you were really sick so I figured I’d bring some soup to help you feel better,” you offer, holding up the bag to show him. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. There’s none of the normal warmth.

“I was worried about you,” you admit.

He sighs and leans against the doorframe without letting you in. “I can’t do these mind games.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I know I messed up really badly. I owe you an apology.” 

“You might as well come in,” Jeonghan says and steps aside. “Soup does also sound good. It’s cold out.” 

“Right, here,” you say and hand it over to him.

“Is there enough for you to eat with me?” he asks and takes the bag. “Oh, it looks like it. Wanna join me? And you can try to explain what’s been going on?” 

“Sure,” you agree.

It’s mostly silent as Jeonghan heats up the soup and puts it into two bowls for you to enjoy it with him. He sets the bowls at the kitchen table and also sets some drinks down for you. The two of you take a few sips first before you venture to explain what’s been going on.

“I’m really sorry, Jeonghan,” you say.

“So you’ve said,” he comments. He’s not going to make this easy on you.

“That whole night when I stayed here wasn’t exactly what I signed up for,” you admit. He opens his mouth, but you wave him off. “Let me try to get this out. You were so kind and caring to me when you brought me back here. Then, I was kind of expecting something to happen and nothing did…”

“Because you had been drinking. I wasn’t just gonna be like hey, let’s jump into bed when your mind wasn’t fully clear,” he says with a scoff. 

“That’s fair. I get that,” you acknowledge. “Then, I don’t know. I saw Hana sitting out here with you the next day and I just kinda freaked out. I had realized that I might actually like you and here’s this beautiful person in your apartment for who knows what reason. I worried she was your girlfriend or something.”

He snorts a little derisively at that. “That would be kinda shitty to share a bed with you and then let you walk out to find me with a girlfriend. She’s not, by the way. She’s my roommate Joshua’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. I ran into her and Joshua while I was getting coffee over the weekend,” you admit sheepishly. This seems to surprise him.

“You met Joshua?” he asks. 

“They didn’t tell you?” you ask in return and he shakes his head. “Probably because Hana told me that I’m the only one you’ve talked about since starting the class.” 

“I wouldn’t have even cared if I had an answer to why you started ignoring me,” he says. 

“I got a bit scared,” you say softly. 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t just speak to me,” he insists.

“I know that. I really am sorry, that’s all I can say,” you offer. 

“Well that and you can tell me that you do actually like me. Not that you might like me or something else vague,” he says with a glint to his eyes. 

“You are…infuriating,” you say with a laugh. “You’re beautiful and smart and funny and impossibly kind. You make me want to pull out my hair at least once a day…”

“Don’t do that. You have nice hair,” he interjects.

“But, yes, I’m trying not to be scared anymore. So yeah, I do like you,” you say.

“What about being the TA for my class?” he asks and you shrug. 

“The class will end eventually,” you say. 

“Does this count as our first date, then?” he asks like the true demon he is. 

“Only if you plan something else for our second date,” you concede.

“Deal,” he agrees. 

Everything feels a little bit easier after that. A little bit lighter. Like you actually can breathe for the first time all semester. You tell Jeonghan about the letter and he suggests that you read it right then with him. It makes sense, in a way. Working with Jeonghan has brought out exactly the side to you that Choi wanted to see. It feels like this is kind of his win as well, even though he didn’t realize it. It also feels a little less overwhelming to read it with him by your side. (It’s a rave. Way better than anything you could have dared to hope for and better than any other letter written by him that you’ve read. Everything feels worth it and like it falls into place.)

Now that the awkwardness is out of the way, Jeonghan shares that he wasn’t actually sick, which you already know. It’s obvious looking at him that he feels fine. It does surprise you a bit that he admits to avoiding you to give himself time to process, though. Then he moves onto talking about Joshua and Hana, grumbling that they hadn’t told him about running into you after you relay the entire conversation. Even goes as far as to say that he would have come to class so that you could have figured all of this out. Instead, he admits telling Joshua about the plan to skip. That’s why Joshua isn’t there, though. He claimed he was going to give Jeonghan his space to work through whatever he was feeling and spend the night at Hana’s. You make a mental note to thank Joshua for that. 

“How early is your day tomorrow? Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something?” he asks a little awkwardly when you finish your soup.

“Not that early,” you answer easily. “A movie sounds good, but can we watch something in your room? I feel like laying in bed and being lazy.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he says.

“We don’t have to,” you say quickly.

“Can I say something that’s really gonna make me look…not cool?” he asks. 

“Sure,” you say curiously.

“You make me a little nervous,” he admits. 

That completely surprises you. Nothing about Jeonghan really seems anything short of confident in everything that he does. It’s kind of nice to see him falter. All you do is hold out a hand to him. “It’s okay, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

He takes your hand easily and lets you lead him into his own bedroom. Seems very content to let you just set the pace of what’s happening. So, you settle on top of his covers and he hands you the remote. It’s nice to get to control what’s on the TV for a change, even if you’re not really paying much attention to it. Jeonghan is a little stiff against his headboard as you try to settle into his body. 

“Is it okay if I lean against you like this?” you ask, suddenly worrying this is too much.

“Of course,” he says after a moment. 

“You can tell me if…” you start.

“No,” he says firmly. “No, I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I had you in my bed.”

“Just since then?” you tease.

“No, it was definitely before then, but I’ve already lost a lot of cool points,” he says.

“I don’t want to possibly misread the signs, but are you okay with…” you start, once again, before he cuts you off.

“I am fine with absolutely anything you want to give me,” he says and you wish you could see his face. Wonder if he’s blushing.

“And if that’s just a cuddle?” you test.

“Fine,” he says.

“Or if it’s a kiss?” you ask and feel the breath he takes. “Or what about if it’s a lot more than a kiss?” 

He takes another beat. His voice sounds a bit strained when he speaks. “Definitely more than just fine.” 

That’s really all the confirmation that you need. Making sure you’re on the same page is important and getting this kind of consent makes it easier to relax. You settle further back into his chest and pull his arm around you, let one of your own arms drape across his lap. It feels like it might be easier for him to settle that way. So that you can’t see his face and he doesn’t have to worry about losing any more cool points. Not that those really matter with you anyway. More than anything, it’s entertaining to see the way this constantly confident, perpetual pain in the ass gets so tongue-tied now that he’s getting what he wants. 

The more time goes by, the more he seems to relax a little more into what’s happening around him. His fingers absently run along your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. He leans his head down to meet yours and you could swear his lips press the lightest kiss into your hair. His entire presence is a little overwhelming. And he smells amazing. It’s such a unique scent that you can’t place. Something light, airy, and delicate. Something that seems to perfectly suit him. It might be your new favorite scent. 

Nothing about the TV show is keeping your attention. It feels like little more than a precursor to what you both know is coming. But, Jeonghan doesn’t make the first move beyond the contact his fingers make with your arm. The first actual move seems like it might belong to you, which is actually kind of exciting. It’s a bit thrilling to know that you’re going to be in charge with this man who’s done nothing but send every one of your senses into overdrive. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t need to be in control of everything. 

Almost as if you’re testing the water, you run your hand across his lap, careful to go slowly. He stops breathing for a second as he seems to wait to see what you’ll do next. It prompts you to run your hand back and forth a few more times, not bothering to move on from the subtle imprint of his dick through his sweatpants. Everything about him stills: his hand freezes on your arm, he doesn’t fidget, and his breathing is incredibly shallow. He starts to get noticeably harder underneath your hand while you keep your eyes trained forward, even though you have no idea what’s going on in whatever show you picked as background noise. There’s something strangely intimate about this in the way it feels a little innocent. 

Finally, when he starts to moan a little with each motion, you pull your hand away. Delight in the way he actually whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s time to actually face him so that you can see what you’re doing to him. Repositioning yourself, you see the look on his face. He’s a little flushed just from the attention and his eyes are wide. Waiting. All he’s doing is waiting to let you set what happens next, like he can’t really believe that this is happening after so much time. It is, though. 

You run a hand through his hair and marvel at how soft it is when it looks perfectly styled. Either his hair just looks like that or he’s got the best products in the world. Neither feels fair when he’s already this stunningly beautiful. Gently, you lean forward to press your lips against his. Let your hand tangle in his hair as you anchor yourself to him. The kiss is at complete odds with you slowly rubbing him through his pants. There’s a little bit of desperation and you’re not even sure which of you it’s coming from. All you know for sure is that his lips are so soft that they feel like clouds and he doesn’t even fight you for control when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just meets whatever pace you set. He really is happy with whatever you give him. 

Your free hand winds down his body and doesn’t waste any time slipping into the waistband of his pants. When your hand wraps around his cock, he tries to pull away from the kiss, but you don’t let him. The moan that comes from you running your thumb over his tip gets caught up in your lips. You pull your hand out just long enough to spit into your palm and return it to the inside of his pants. Jeonghan does break the kiss when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes the first time, a hiss coming out of his mouth. 

“Are you still sure you’re okay?” you ask, but it’s almost more of a tease. 

“Fuck,” he hisses out. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

Hearing him nearly begging like that is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Never could you have imagined you would have this man like putty beneath your hands. It’s going to your head a little bit and then it hits you. You wonder if you can make him come just like this. Wonder how that would feel to have that kind of power over him. 

So, you do the only logical thing, and decide to test it out. You kiss him again, fierce and messy and desperate. Keep a steady rhythm of stroking him. He’s a squirming, writhing mess under your touch and it’s like he doesn’t even remember what to do with his hands. It’s actually turning you on as well to know that he wants you this bad. That nothing more than your lips and his touch are going to send him over the edge. It’s obvious when he starts getting close because he works harder to break the kiss. Can’t seem to catch his breath. You take a little pity on him and kiss across his jaw. Even pull away to watch him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he whimpers.

“So come,” you direct.

“I can’t come in my pants like a fucking teenager,” he protests. “Please, I’m begging…”

“I want you to come for me, Jeonghan. Right now. Exactly like this. Come for me and show me how desperate you’ve been to have my hands on your cock,” you instruct.

“Fuck,” he draws out. “Fuck, I can’t…I’m gonna…”

His release comes almost out of nowhere, so hard and heavy that it coats your hand as you continue to stroke him through the release, coaxing every last bit from him. Once he’s spent, he collapses back against the headboard of the bed and you see any tension drain from his body. You pull your hand from inside his pants and wipe it off on them. Thankfully, he doesn’t even seem to protest. 

While his breathing steadies, you shift and get off of the bed. He slowly opens his eyes and tracks your movement. Only swallows a little hard when you start to undress without taking your eyes off him. Sometimes, this part makes you a little self conscious. It’s much easier now, though, knowing you had just made Jeonghan come in his pants. That’s an ego boost you never expected to get. His breath stutters when you even remove your bra and panties, leaving yourself completely exposed before him. His eyes go somehow even wider when you get back onto the bed and position yourself in front of him. He reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away.

“Oh, no, no,” you chastise softly. “No, my little demon, you are going to watch now.”

“Watch?” he asks. 

“Yes, watch,” you confirm and study his face. “Don’t you want to watch me get myself off? Don’t you want to watch me show you exactly what it is that I like?” 

“F-fuck that’s…wow,” he stutters out. 

You lean back, using one hand behind you on the bed to brace yourself. You spread your legs open to show him the way your pussy already glistens a little. The kissing and the feel of bringing him over the edge like that really turned you on. It’s a little bit of a first for you. Running a finger up your entrance, you collect some of the wetness there. Do it once more for good measure. And then, still emboldened by what’s happened so far, you reach forward to hold your finger out to Jeonghan. Let it run along his lip until he takes it into his mouth and tastes you. 

“Fuck, you’re so…just, fuck,” he hisses. “Can I…”

“No,” you say and cut him off, pulling your finger back. 

Now that you’ve had a taste of him begging for something, you want to drive him to that again. Want to get him so turned on that he can’t even see straight. You slowly tease at your entrance and watch the way his eyes track each movement. When you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples, he seems like he can’t really figure out where to look. Then, you slide one finger into your pussy and it’s like he can’t see to take his eyes off the motion. You moan, even though it’s nowhere near enough of a stretch, and increase the rhythm. Quickly add another finger and start to fuck yourself just the way you like. Just the way you would when you want to draw out your release a little more than using a toy. You slide your free hand down your body and use it to rub small circles on your clit. Somewhere, the thought of Jeonghan watching you becomes a little secondary. It’s incredibly sexy to know that he’s just watching, but you’re also invested in your own high. You want to do this for yourself as much as to show Jeonghan. Can’t possibly realize that Jeonghan is even more turned on knowing that you’re so lost to your own passion. 

The orgasm washes over you more suddenly than you’re expecting and it takes a moment to catch your breath. It takes another moment to realize that Jeonghan has undressed himself while you were lost in your own world. He isn’t touching himself though and you can’t figure out if he’s still sensitive or just waiting for your permission. It’s hard to avoid the realization that every part of him is beautiful. His body is all lean lines, not overly muscular, yet still looks strong. Even his cock is kind of beautiful in a way, which isn’t fair. It’s not surprising, though. 

“That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” he admits, a little breathless. 

“D’you think you can make me come as well?” you tease. “Want to feel my pussy squeeze around you?” 

He nods immediately and it makes you laugh a little. “I know I can. I want…” 

“To taste me?” you offer and his eyes go dark with lust. 

“Can I?” he asks. “Can I actually get a taste? Just your finger wasn’t really enough.” 

“I want to see what that mouth can do when it’s not talking a mile a minute,” you say. “I hope you’re just as good with your tongue.”

It’s obvious that this catches him a little off guard that you’re so confident now with him. So easily fall into telling him exactly what you want him to do. But, you’re very curious to see what his skills are like. The two of you reposition so that he can settle between your legs. His eyes find yours, searching, Maybe asking permission. You nod and he uses his fingers to spread your lips open. He licks up your core and mutters a quiet fuck under his breath at your lingering wetness. The breath against your core sends a slight shiver through your body. 

After all the build up and everything, you don’t really have the patience for him to go slow. So, you tangle your hand into his hair and press his head further into your cunt. Force his nose to brush against your clit. Don’t really stop to consider if it’s too much for him. His moans into you seem to show that they’re not, though. It’s nice to just take what you need and know that he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. When you ask him (read: tell him) to add a finger, he does it without question. For someone that always seems to have a retort for everything, he’s surprisingly quiet now. Nothing piercing the quiet of the room apart from the constant stream of moans from both of you and curses from you as you get closer to your second orgasm. 

The second one hits a lot harder than the first, a fact that you wouldn’t really want to admit to Jeonghan. It’s too obvious to hide, though. You don’t even care. Jeonghan’s tongue is far better than anything you could have dreamed about. Not that you were dreaming about it. (And not that you ever got yourself off in the shower or in your bed, late at night, thinking of the annoying guy who wouldn’t ever seem to leave you alone. Absolutely not.) When you open your eyes again, you find Jeonghan looking at you with awe. There’s nothing smug about his look. It makes your insides go even a little mushier. It’s definitely not the time for those kinds of emotions. 

“Wow,” is all Jeonghan says. 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

“Do you still want to…? I mean, can we still…” he starts.

“Jeonghan, do I make you feel that nervous?” you joke. “You just ate me out and made me come all over your face.” 

He shrugs. “I just don’t wanna press my luck.” 

“Maybe we just stop here then,” you say with a return shrug. “I’m not sure you want it enough.”

“Oh, no, I definitely want it,” he disagrees.

“Are you sure?” you taunt. “Sure you can handle it?” 

That unleashes a side of Jeonghan you haven’t fully seen yet. The next moment, he’s begging you for your pussy. Begging you to show you how much he still wants you. Begging to make up for the fake that he came in his pants just at your touch. Just begging for anything and everything. He even goes as far as to say that he’ll do all the work. It shouldn’t be working for you. It’s kind of lame, the way he just can’t seem to stop himself from running his mouth. And, unfortunately, it’s working for you. You kiss him just to make him stop. 

The kiss immediately turns into something desperate, but you’re not sure which one of you takes it there first. Every new bit of him you get only makes you want even more of him. It’s kind of insane to think you weren’t even sure you liked him when it’s been so easy to fall into this. Jeonghan breaks the kiss and reaches over into his nightstand for a condom. Somehow, he manages to get it on in nearly record speed, despite his nerves about everything else. He doesn’t waste any time in positioning himself, either. You lie back when he spreads your legs open and seems a little drunk on the sight of you. You tap his side with your foot and he shakes his head clear of whatever he was thinking. 

Jeonghan lines himself up at your entrance and presses his tip in. You arch your back, moaning at the initial stretch. It’s immediately better than either of your fingers or his tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in and it makes him snap into you in one swift movement. All you wanted was to be full and you squeeze your walls around him. Direct him to move. The two of you work together to figure out the right pace, knowing that neither of you is likely to last all that long. You’re both a little sensitive from everything in the lead up to this moment. Still, you revel in the way that Jeonghan rolls his hips into you. Appreciate the way that he nearly pulls all the way out before snapping back into you. Moan into the sloppy kiss when your mouths crash together. It’s hard to tell where your own whines start and his moans begin. The sounds all kind of blend together into some kind of weird harmony. 

Where Jeonghan was incredibly vocal when he was begging, he doesn’t seem to have a coherent thought to share now. Yet, his eyes never leave you. Like he’s trying to map each part of your body. It’s too fast for him to learn what you actually like. That’s not what you need, not right now. What you need is to have another release, one that comes at the same time as his own. And that’s exactly what you get when you come hard again just as you feel his thrusts stutter. A moment later, he’s coming into the condom and eventually stilling inside of you. 

The last thing you want is to feel the loss of him inside of you, but you understand that he has to pull out. His breathing is heavy when he rolls over onto his back. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to get out of bed. That it’s a struggle. But, he gets up to dispose of the condom and you hear water running in the distance. He returns a moment later with a wet cloth and starts gently washing you without even asking. He tosses the cloth on his dresser and then collapses back on the bed next to you. Pulls you into his body without a second thought.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you say softly while you’re nestled into him. 

“Like I would let you leave,” he says just as softly.

“Oh, the man that begs for my pussy is going to force me to stay?” you challenge. 

You feel the way his chest slightly rumbles with laughter. “I was hoping you’d let me live for a second.”

“After you not letting me live since we met? Fat chance,” you answer.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he says.

“I really don’t want to leave tonight, though, so hopefully you have more clothes to lend me,” you say.

“You’re gonna have to let me move for that,” he says in return.

“Worst offer I’ve gotten all day, but fine,” you agree and allow him to disentangle from you. 

Once he offers you some clothes, you also get up from the bed to get dressed. Try not to ogle Jeonghan too much as he does the same. He catches you, because of course he does, but surprisingly doesn’t say anything. Only smiles back at you. You help him remake the bed before the two of you go back out into the living area. It occurs to you that you didn’t exactly let your roommate know what you were up to before just heading straight over to see Jeonghan.

A fact that is immediately obvious when you see the texts and missed calls on your phone. Oop.

“Hey,” you call out to Jeonghan. “My roommate, I’m sure you remember him…”

“Yeah, Seungkwan, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, he’s freaking out because I forgot to say I was coming over here,” you say. “I’m just gonna call him really quick to let him know I’m fine and I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Do you want privacy?” he asks and you just laugh lightly.

“Not sure I need it,” you say and the phone is already ringing. Seungkwan answers nearly immediately.

“What the fuck? Are you okay?” he asks instead of saying hello.

“Chill, Kwan, I’m fine,” you answer. 

“Where are you? Your class ended hours ago,” he says.

“Has it been hours?” you ask with some amount of surprise. 

“Wait, where are you?” he asks again, sounding calm but skeptical now. 

“I just…just don’t worry about me for the night, okay? I’ll be home tomorrow,” you say. 

“Switch to video, you whore,” Seungkwan says skeptically.

“Don’t be a weirdo,” you retort.

“Come on! Turn on your camera!” he yells and you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Fucking fine,” you grumble and press the button on your phone before holding it back up to your face.

“I KNEW IT!” he shrieks gleefully. “Who’s shirt is that?”

“Oh, well, it’s…” you stall and look over at Jeonghan. He’s already moving toward you.

“Well?” Seungkwan prompts as Jeonghan leans over behind you so his face shows in the camera.

“It’s mine,” Jeonghan answers and Seungkwan looks like Christmas came early.

“Well, hello Jeonghan,” he says. 

“I promise to take good care of her and send her back in one piece,” Jeonghan says and Seungkwan can’t contain his grin.

“Keep her as long as you like. I’m about to be so rich,” he says, far happier than he should be.

“Goodbye Seungkwan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say and hang up before he can say anything. 

Once you hang up, Jeonghan gives you an odd look. Like he’s trying to figure out what Seungkwan just said.

“Do I…want to ask?” he finally asks.

You sigh. “Seungkwan started placing and taking bets about me sleeping with you as soon as I mentioned you.” 

“And when was that?” he asks, seemingly not even surprised by the bets. You internally curse.

“After the very first class when you mentioned you joined because you like Legos,” you admit. 

“We could have saved so much time,” he whines and you just shake your head.

“This is exactly how it was supposed to go,” you disagree.

“Maybe,” he concedes. “Should we get some sleep? We can figure everything else out in the light of day.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree and follow him to bed. 

It’s far easier than it should be to settle into bed with him. Like you’ve done it a million times before. Maybe it’s okay to allow yourself to have the things you want. Maybe this can all be as easy as attaching one block to another until you have something amazing. 

i hope you liked it! and like i said, i'll be back to fix any spelling/grammar errors after the weekend.

taglist: @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @okiedokrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @jelly-n , @christinewithluv, @hipsdofangirl, @sana-is-ms-rmty, @lllucere, @vixensss, @soffiyuhh @aidanjoon, @hanniebub, @stormy1408, @lilifiedeans, @hyucksrealm, @joshuaslv, @tinkerbell460 (strikethrough means can't tag)

[always-just-red]

Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.

If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration

Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea! (Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)

Fourth Wall

Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸

Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?

Genre: idk really?? real world player x character

Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)

| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your phone lights up with a notification.

Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.

It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.

The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!

But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?

Another notification:

Sylus: Take your time, kitten.

A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.

Sylus: I’m going to count to three.

Cute. He’s not actually going to—

Sylus: One…

Oh.

Sylus: Two…

Really?

Sylus: Three.

Ok.

You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.

Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.

He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”

You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.

Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.

Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.

He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.

With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.

You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.

It doesn’t do anything.

Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.

Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”

You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.

Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”

Ok but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.

“Stop.”

A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.

Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”

It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”

Does he mean the game? The other LIs?  

“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”

God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.

“Are you even listening?” he sighs.

Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?

“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”

Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.

“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.

“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”

This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.

There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.

He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.  

His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.

Did they change the animation?

“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hi!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. Prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the like... split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to signal that a character is two-faced or that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that? I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different! A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here, but like. Not Realism) - maybe it will give you some ideas!

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way! A fav of mine) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count! Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS! [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor! I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it:-)

Hope this helps!

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed!

[highonakuweeds]

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness? (pt 2)

Sylus/right hand man!reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ao3

SUMMARY: You decided to indulge in Aries' little date, a "simple" dinner in an expensive place. However, one drink led to another and you found yourself thinking about Sylus way more than you should be.

WARNINGS:

smut, cunnilingus, making out, intoxication, aphrodisiac, slightly jealous Sylus, possibly ooc ??

GENRE: smut, a bit of fluff near the end

Is it obvious idk how to tag?

“Must I wear this?” A familiar man held a perfume bottle in his hand, glancing at its label. Behind it, translucent pink liquid swished around, as if eager to be released. He grimaced at the sight, clearly not liking the idea.

Another man, a decade or two older, just scoffed, fixing his nephew’s collar. “Yes, you do. I did not raise you to retaliate.”

His nephew snorted. “You didn’t raise me, per se—”

“Aries.” Ciel’s voice cut through his statement, making the man clear his throat. “Sorry, sir.”

“There you go.” And with that, Ciel backed off, arms crossed in expectation. Aries’ jaw clenched before spraying the perfume over his pulse points, as well as his hair. It smelled sickeningly sweet in his opinion, too sweet to the point he almost gagged in front of his uncle. But, he was told that it would wear down the moment he met a certain little (Name). 

He didn’t want to trick you like this, but he saw your hesitance when he touched your shoulder. As if you knew he was something he shouldn’t be.

—--

You couldn’t stop staring at yourself in the mirror.

You bought the beauty you were wearing yourself, and even if it wasn’t the signature black or red that Sylus loved dressing you in, you believed that a pretty champagne would do you good. It’s not as if it ever let you down before. Its plunging neckline was daring for a first date, but you were never one for subtlety. Not if you had the richest man in the world as your wallet.

A simple dinner, Aries told you. You snorted. Yeah, right. A simple dinner for the rich, maybe. 

You should be used to restaurants like what Aries had sent you the location of, but you never asked to join Sylus whenever he’d go, so you were never accustomed to them. 

You always seemed to forget you were constantly surrounded by the wealthy as long as you were in the N109 Zone.

You had told Tara and the others that you had to leave shift early for a simple little date, and the moment you did, their eyes lit up immediately, especially Tara. She always thought money was your one true love, and though she wasn’t necessarily wrong, she was happy that there was at least some space in your heart for a person. 

You scoffed at the idea of having an actual partner. You were just humoring Aries; he didn’t really mean anything to you. Ever since you left the auction, he began texting you almost nonstop, occasionally giving you a bouquet of roses before the actual dinner, which was scheduled a week after the auction. But it felt mundane to you. None of it compared to what Sylus had done for you during the first week of your stay.

You shook your head. Why were you thinking of your damn boss? Why were you comparing him to a potential romantic partner? With a huff, you grabbed your clutch and headed straight for your double door.

The moment you opened one of them, though, Sylus was right in front of you, leaning against the other door, sparing you a glance. “Where are you off to?”

You smiled plainly at it, crossing your arms as you faced him. “That won’t work on me. I’m leaving now!” You spun on your heels before walking down the hallways, your figure a deep contrast to the darkness of the walls around you. You heard Sylus scoff in amusement, and it ticked you off. “If I see Mephisto or any one of your goons following or spying on me, I will leave.”

“As if you could,” you heard him bite back, and you smiled. You hated how he was right. Though you knew he wouldn’t follow you after what you said. You hoped.

—--

“Reservation under Cartier.” Aries informed the waiter, who had bowed and ushered us to your seats. Your interest piqued at his last name, and the moment you two sat down, you brought it up. “‘Cartier’? Like the vintage jewelry brand?” You joked, nodding at the waiter in gratitude. 

He just goofishly laughed, looking down at the candlelit table with humility. “I get that a lot, yeah. But speaking of it, though, my dad used to talk about a certain jewelry store.”

At that, your face dropped in shock, eyes wide at his words. “...Your family owns Cartier?”

Aries shrugged, smiling awkwardly at the waiter as he poured the red wine. “I guess? I haven't heard about it in a while, though. He barely talks about it now.”

“I have some of your pieces!” You exclaimed, putting your hand out to show him a beautiful Trinity ring on your left middle finger, truly a classic. “See?”

His eyes twinkled at the ring, and his hand took yours. When he leaned down and kissed your ring, your nostrils began to get filled up with a sweet aroma, and suddenly you had difficulty breathing. 

Aries’ eyes glanced up at you, half-lidded, and he tilted his head. “Are you alright, (Name)?” 

His voice was muffled in your head, and you knew just how flushed your cheeks were. There was something wrong with the air. You took another sniff of it, your wrist heating up at the course of information. 

You immediately regretted the decision of sniffing the air once more, however, as you let out a groan, your head hurting a bit more than it should. “I-I’m fine.” You muttered, flashing a smile to comfort Aries. “It’s okay; someone’s perfume is just piercing through my nose.”

That seemed to soothe Aries, indeed, as he nodded understandingly. “Of course. Now, let’s get started, shall we?”

“I never say no to a good meal.”

Throughout the entire dinner, you couldn’t focus as much as you wanted to. Especially after you realized that the perfume you were smelling was an aphrodisiac, and that you were almost sure it was from Aries. Did he know that it was an aphrodisiac? Was he planning on drugging you? You couldn’t help it; your guard was up the entire time he talked and you responded. Yet at the same time, you couldn’t keep up security for longer when you constantly had rather… indecent thoughts, not about the man in front of you, but about the man you wished was spying on you.

Ah shit, you are not going home horny for Sylus, out of all people. You won’t allow it.

But when Aries encouraged you to take another glass of wine, just like he did, you couldn’t help it. You accepted his offer, and spent the remaining time wondering just how long until you got home, whilst laughing your ass off at whatever Aries was talking about.

You stumbled as you giggled, grabbing onto Aries’ shoulder. The man you walked into the dinner with was also visibly wasted, with his flushed face and his wobbly walk. 

“You sure you won’t ride with me?” He hiccuped, making you nod vigorously, your pouty lips catching his attention. “Yes, yes!” You exclaimed, slapping his arm playfully. “I’ll be fine. I booked a ride.” Both your speeches slurred as you talked, but it all felt normal to the both of you.

Aries nodded at the same time as you, making his head spin. “Okay.” He grunted, not before cupping your cheeks. Your eyes widened, and you almost sobered fully at that feeling. You couldn’t even process what was going on before he smashed his lips onto yours. Luckily there was no tongue, but it was definitely uncomfortable. You smelled the familiar sweetness you did when you were sober, and your heart sank when you realized that it was him that was wearing the aphrodisiac. And with what he was doing right now, you assumed that he was anticipating you to give in to him.

But for some reason you weren’t. You weren’t aroused by the idea of Aries, nor were you aroused by his actions. They all felt forced, though you had always just brushed it off. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally let go, his lips parted as he panted. “I will see you,” he walked towards his car, where the driver was waiting for him. “In a week’s time, same time!” 

It took you a while to understand what he was saying, but you nodded your head, almost your entire torso as well, when you got the message. “Okay!”

“Goodnight, (Name)!”

“Good night, Aries!”

The moment he left, the hair at your nape stood up, and a shiver ran down your spine. Something dangerous was in the vicinity, but this felt more natural. Familiar, even.

“So, I assume the date went well, given you had to call me to pick you up?” A rich, deep voice echoed in your mind, and a tug almost made you stumble. Luckily, strong hands caught you just in time. Your smile almost blinded you with how high your cheeks were raised as you looked up at Sylus, who had an amused smirk on his face. His eyes, however, told a different story. They held a look of concern and worry, something you’d never seen in his eyes.

“Sylus!” You shouted, flipping your body like you were boneless until your chin was on his chest and his arms were wrapped around your waist, back slightly arched. “I knew you’d come.”

He just scoffed at your words, and his face softened with each second he gazed at you. “So what, is your new boyfriend that much of an idiot to not offer you a ride home? Is he broke? Ashamed of his form of transportation, perhaps?”

You pouted at his questions, knowing all too well despite being drunk that he was teasing you. “Shut up; I told him I already had a ride home.” Your eyes trailed down until his collarbone, and Sylus could’ve sworn something dangerous flashed in your eyes as you did so. “Speaking of which, can we go home?”

“I’m just waiting on you, sweetie.” He muttered, staring at you for a couple more minutes before picking you up swiftly, one arm hooked under your waist and the other under your legs. 

You yelped at the sudden movement, thrashing in his iron grasp. “Jesus Christ, Sylus! Put me down!”

“You’re drunk, and when I saw you, you could barely walk,” he commented, making you huff, leaning on his chest. From how you were positioned, you could hear his heart beating as fast as you’ve ever heard a heart go. Why was it racing so much?

All of this adrenaline had made you forget about the searing heat growing in your abdomen, something that Aries had apparently wanted to happen to you. And with Sylus this close, you could no longer push it aside. 

If you were to be honest, it felt excruciatingly painful, having no friction in that area. And you couldn’t even think properly, so how could you ever distract yourself, or hell, make the better choice?

You moaned quite loudly in Sylus’ arms, earning a raise of his brow. “Is something the matter, (Nickname)?”

You stopped wiggling around in Sylus’ arms before looking up at him, crossing your arms. “Nothing that's your business.” Actually, it technically was his business; you were dreaming of him fucking you.

Your boss scoffed, picking up one of the helmets and placing it on you after helping you stand up, a hand on your waist. His hand accidentally grazed your neck as he did so, making you whimper. The sudden noise made him narrow his eyes, but he brushed it off. It’s probably the alcohol making you a bit more sensitive than usual. 

“Alright, then,” he softly said, and at his voice did you practically melt. You’ve never heard him talk to you like that, and if you were sober, you would’ve probably teased him for it. But now, it just made you conflicted, especially with how every word he spoke sent long, viscous trails of heat down to your core. 

He aided you in straddling the back of his motorcycle as he sat in front, encouraging you to hold onto his waist. But Sylus probably knew that you were going to fall either way, so something was kept wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place on the motorcycle.

Now, you weren’t going to deny, you always thought that Sylus’ Evol was interesting, specifically when it materializes like this. But the aphrodisiac got to you almost immediately, and as he started his motorcycle and began riding home, you let out a moan. Gritting your teeth, you grasped his waist tighter, hands subconsciously trailing down lower and lower until you felt one hand grip them, placing them higher.

Shit, you needed release.

What the fuck were you doing? Sylus thought, brows knit together as he focused more on the road. He knew every single street in the N109 Zone like the back of his hand, but you were making it very difficult for him to remember anything. His pants were already strained from you pressing against his chest earlier, and if he were to allow your devious hands to go lower, he wouldn’t have any choice but to pull over.

But no. You were drunk. Inebriated. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this. Plus, what would happen after? It’s not like you two were in love. He just finds you… interesting.

—--

You waved carelessly at Luke and Kieran when you entered the abode, effectively hitting Sylus in the face in the process. He took it with a grunt, and a glare when the two henchmen stifled their snickering. They waved back at you, of course, making you wave even harder at them, which in turn… hit Sylus again.

“Okay, okay, yes, yes, that’s Luke and Kieran; you’ve said your hellos.” Sylus exasperatedly said, dragging you to your room for you to rest. 

You acquiesced with a huff, but not before waving one last time to them. This time, Sylus was able to dodge your arms, but his slight irritation only grew.

“Okay, there you go.” Sylus muttered as he laid you down on your bed. You sat there as he removed your shoes, staring at his white tufts of hair and skilled hands. The shoes you chose to wear were a bit more complex than your usual ones, and yet Sylus was able to quickly remove them with ease. 

A familiar feeling of heat pooled all the way down, and your brows furrowed at it. A hand came to your chest, studying your heartbeat and regulating your breathing. You were breathing quickly, but you weren’t quite sure why.

Sylus looked up at you, a brow raised. “Is there a reason as to why you’re hyperventilating? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head in big movements before pausing, then nodding your head with the same energy. Sylus kept himself knelt on the edge of your bed, fixing your heels so you won’t trip on them when you wake up. “Oh? There is something wrong? Am I allowed to know?”

“Aries was wearing an aphrodisiac,” you blurted out before hitting your fluff of pillows behind you with a thud. You closed your eyes as you sighed into the bed.

That got Sylus to stay silent for a couple beats, processing what you just said. “Did he do anything to you? Is that why you’re drunk?” Sylus knew Ciel’s address. He could very well drive there and make Aries disappear in less than 30 minutes.

“Hey!” You exclaimed. “Don’t you even think about murdering Aries, because no. He didn’t do anything. I got drunk on my own.”

Sylus stood up, crossing his arms afterwards. “So, has it worn off?”

You slowly opened your eyes to look at Sylus, who was now towering over you. You swallowed thickly, lips parted as you felt your cheeks flush. Heavily, you shook your head, sparking a glint of intrigue in your boss’ eyes. “No?” His voice was low, and oh fuck, that did something to you.

“No.” 

Whether it was your intoxicated state or the aphrodisiac or perhaps both, you weren’t quite sure, but you lost all control over better judgment as you sat up so quickly that it startled Sylus, and pulled him on top of you, arms wrapped around his neck. He visibly tensed, his own arms caging around you to keep himself from crushing you.

Your eyes were half-lidded, and you could slowly feel the alcohol fading away. Though the red wine Aries had the waiters serve was strong, it wasn’t strong enough for you to forget everything that happened tonight.

Ah fuck, you’re going to regret this in the morning.

You ran a hand through the back of his head, making him shiver softly. As you studied his face, you could tell that he was battling with his emotions since his eyes were searching for any kind of sign that you wouldn’t like this in the morning. “Are you sure with what you’re about to do?” He murmured, leaning close but not close enough. It made you feral.

You just grinned at his words before closing the distance, lips slotting against his perfectly. Sylus didn’t retaliate or even move, so you parted after a couple seconds, pouting. Ah, right. You shouldn’t even be doing this. This was taboo, right? Like the books you’ve seen your mother read.

But just as you were about to shove him away and out of your room to satisfy yourself, he reeled you in for another kiss, but this time more desperate. Your heart skipped a beat the moment he did, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips closer to your core. You shivered blissfully at the needed friction, hips grinding against his erratically.

Sylus groaned into your mouth, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for permission. You allowed him, of course. At that point in time you would’ve allowed him to do anything he wanted. God, he tasted like how you imagined him. Not like you constantly thought about what he tasted like, though. 

The fluid pleasure in your core built up, and you whined at the feeling, needing to feel him more. Needing him more. God, you hated aphrodisiacs. Well, at least you had personal experience about them stored in your wrist.

You parted from the kiss with a pant, chest heaving as you did so. You were quick to work in slipping your hand under Sylus’ shirt to remove it, but he was just as swift in holding your wrist in warning. You stopped right where his heart was, so you could see almost his entire chest. And his heart; it was beating incredibly quickly. Is he even human?

“Don’t,” his voice was hoarse, lips swollen. It was a sight to behold. “Do anything you’ll regret in the morning. You’re still drunk.”

You whined as he got off you, though you didn’t fail to notice the hesitation in his actions, nor the hand to his lips. “Sylus,” you called out, squeezing your thighs shut at the loss of pleasure. 

His hands twitched at your voice, the only indication that he was struggling to hold back. Your boss looked back at you over his shoulder, and you could’ve sworn his jaw tightened when he saw you slumped on your headrest, knees together. 

Sylus’ eyes laid on your lips, used and pink from his own. They were parted, as if waiting for him to connect his lips to yours once more. And in that moment, he probably would’ve. “You can’t think straight, (Nickname).” He simply said, making your nose scrunch. “I’m sobering up by the minute!” You hit your mattress. “And it hurts. So much.”

That got his attention. He fully turned to face you, expression full of concern. “What hurts?”

Suddenly having the ability to feel embarrassed, you averted his gaze, looking down at your body. You gulped as he finally understood what you were referring to, and he smirked slyly. “It does? And what does that have to do with me?”

“So, now you’ve changed up.” You snapped, mind finally hurting from the aftereffects of the alcohol. “A minute ago, you were so caring.”

“You know that I’m not as caring as you think, sweetie.” He muttered. His actions deceived him, however as he began walking towards you, and you felt the need to squeeze your thighs tighter. “Do you want my help or not?”

…Wait. 

Is he actually offering?

Your mind started to flood with images of Sylus on top of you, his face contorted with pleasure as he bottomed out. That earned a shivering gasp from you, lips biting.

He seemed to notice it, however, and he just chuckled. “Not yet, sweetie. I won’t do… anything that will discomfort you when you realize what’s going on, but…” Sylus sat down on your bed, making the mattress sink. He painfully slowly removed his shoes, and the leather jacket that he had on. With the same speed, he crawled to be in front of you, his hands spreading your legs. “I will help you get over this aphrodisiac, since it hurts so much.”

You muttered something about him being a sarcastic ass even when you were in this state until he placed a kiss on your inner thigh. You jolted at that, inhaling sharply through the nose at the same time. Because of it, you tried to close your legs, but Sylus’ firm grip against your knees kept them locked in place, and a coy smirk slapped itself on his face; you wanted nothing more than to slap it off him.

“Ah-ah-ah, (Nickname), don’t be closing your legs now,” he teased, dipping his head low. He shifted the skirt of your dress (with the help of you lifting up your hips) until it was bunched up on your lower abdomen. The fabric made it difficult for you to see what was going on, but Sylus had a perfect view of the wet spot in your underwear. He ogled at it, drunk at the sight. Licking his lips, he dipped low, his hands sliding higher until both were wrapped around each respective thigh, holding them in place. “Not when you’ve already asked for my help. It would be rude of me to not accept it, right?”

You couldn’t even answer him; your eyes were glued to his own as he stared at your underwear. Without thinking, you grabbed your bunched up skirt and placed the extra fabric to the side so that you could see the man in between your legs better. He raised a brow, amused at your antics. “Want a view, don’t you?”

You just snorted. “Duh. I have the leader of Onichynus on his stomach and in between my thighs. I need this burned in my memory.” 

Sylus scoffed. He started to pepper kisses all over your inner thighs, always growing closer to the warm spot but never actually moving there. Your resolve grew weaker every time his tongue flicked out to lick the line that connected your thighs and your hips, and he knew just how crazy he was making you feel.

You dragged his name out in a plea, head resting on the bed’s headboard. With a low chuckle, he nodded, using a hand to slide your underwear to the side. What was hiding beneath it glistened in your room’s warm lighting, and Sylus cursed under his breath, feeling himself twitch on your mattress. 

One kiss was all it took for you to lose all sense of logic. A whiny moan escaped you as he languidly used his tongue to collect some slick and lay flat against your clit, going in soft circles afterwards. Your hand instinctively ran through his hair, pulling and urging him to go faster. 

He grunted at what you did, but he couldn’t deny just how much that turned him on, you using him like this. You begged him to go quicker, and who was he to refuse?

The hands that were wrapped around your thighs pulled you closer to his mouth, and he allowed himself to savor the taste of you. You yelped when he pulled you since your legs naturally went to go over his shoulders. Sylus gripped them for them to stay there as he devoured you.

You couldn’t believe this. The leader of Onichynus was burying himself in the pleasure that was the heat of your thighs. And he was clearly enjoying himself, too, with how many low moans vibrated through you. The aphrodisiac worked wonders as the slight roughness of his tongue worked at you, and you found yourself a moaning mess not even 5 minutes in, begging and whining for more.

Sylus was more than happy to oblige to your pleading, of course. When you told him to stay in that spot, he would, and when you told him to go harder, he did.

And you had to admit, his tongue was skillful in what it was doing. You’ve never doubted his abilities in pleasing women, but to actually experience it was something else. It prodded your entrance, teasing you, until it finally entered. You let out a cry, tugging his hair even more to pull him closer.

Your thighs pressed against the sides of his face, and he groaned at the feeling, nose brushing up against your clit as he relished in your cunt. The more you stared at him, the more you realized just how close you were to the edge, and how much you were probably staining your mattress. Ugh, you’d have to clean this up in the morning. 

Your breaths came in either small hiccups or shallow pants, and there were times where you had to remind yourself to breathe and not just hold your breath as you gazed at the man eating you out. 

“Sylus,” you breathed out, swallowing saliva that accumulated. “I-I’m so close, Sylus—”

“I know,” was his muffled response, voice thick with the desire to please you. “Use me, (Nickname).”

…oh shit.

You bit your lip, guiding Sylus’ head whilst he resumed what he was doing before. Pleasure and pressure both built inside of you, and you couldn’t help but mutter your boss’ name like a prayer, hoping that if you did, he would easily relieve you.

In all honesty, it didn’t take much for him to do so. Fuck, just the sound of his voice was enough for him to flick his tongue expertly into your entrance or across your clit. As you practically rode his face, one of his hands slid up to your abdomen, where he applied pressure at a rhythmic pace.

You gasped at the addition of ecstacy, and you cried his name out, hips spasming as thighs tightened around his face. Your back arched at how intense your orgasm was, eyes squeezed shut. When they weren’t, they were rolled to the back of your skull. 

Sylus grunted when you practically coated his entire face as fluids escaped you, but he wasn’t complaining. He took every single drop you gave him, eager to please and to be used. He let out a low moan, placing sloppy open-mouthed kisses to catch the liquid you released, and you twitched under his touch, muttering him to stop. Your hand on his hair told a different story, though, as it continued to tug his head towards your cunt. 

He only did stop when you finally let go of his hair, a sting entering his scalp. The pain felt amazingly good, though, so he couldn’t care less. You stared half-lidded at him as he panted, swallowing the remaining juices he had in his mouth. 

“How are you feeling?” Sylus muttered, planting one more kiss on your still-swollen clit. You jerked at that, squeezing his head again. You winced before murmuring a small sorry. “I-I,” you began to say, but your tongue felt fat in your mouth. You still hadn’t gotten the chance to catch your breath, so you just sighed softly, letting your head rest against the headboard. 

Sylus got the memo and just chuckled, removing his grasp of your thighs. He gingerly (which was unusual of him) set your legs down from his shoulders; they flopped onto the bed like they were jelly. Jesus, you would’ve been so embarrassed.

“I’m assuming it’s faded?” He guessed, using his hand to wipe his face first. He could still taste you in his mouth. You barely nodded, eyes closing as your mind drifted away from reality.

Sylus smirked at your vulnerable position right now. He glanced at your glowing right wrist as it processed the experience and stored the information from it. So it really does collect everything.

When he put his eyes back at you, he noticed that you were asleep, energy no longer enough to keep you awake. You were still wearing your makeup and champagne dress, and he knew it wouldn’t be comfortable to wake up in that. 

The last thing you heard before fully drifting off was Sylus’ footsteps weakening, and a door closing. Ah, he must’ve left you. Of course, his duty was finally fulfilled; why should he stay for even longer?

—--

When Sylus came back from your bathroom, he had makeup wipes and remover in one hand, a warm damp face towel in the other, and a pair of comfortable pajamas he’d recently bought you. You were fast asleep when he placed the items in his hands on the nightstand and clothes on your bed. And he had to admit, it was cute.

Carefully, he sat down on the bed, just beside you, one leg folded on it. He readied a makeup wipe with remover and cradled your head with his hand, using the other one to gently wipe the foundation and such off your face.

He didn’t dare to speak or wake you up the entire time, instead he used his Evol to turn on the vinyl player he’d gifted you a year ago to play some jazz. Ella Fitzgerald was always your favorite, so he always bought her vinyls. Her and Chet Baker.

So as Ella serenaded the room, he rubbed circles on your face with the towel, removing any excess while also exfoliating your skin. After it, your skin was flushed, red and sensitive from hours of wearing makeup. 

Then, he worked on slipping the sleeves of your dress off you, pulling the rest down until you were just in your underwear. He brought another pair of underwear just in case, so he removed everything until you were bare. Sylus grabbed the damp towel once more and cleaned your inner thighs more thoroughly until it was no longer sticky and full of slick. With that, he grabbed the new pair of underwear and slipped them on you. It wasn’t long until a comfortable shirt and pants were on you, and Sylus unclasped your bra easily and removed it with your shirt still on. You always complained about having to wear bras. 

He cleaned everything up quite quickly, too, placing your dirty  clothes in your hamper before leaving, dimming the lights until only a soft glow emanated in the room. Sylus had left the player on; it would’ve probably stopped the moment you woke up, anyway.

And as he left, he wondered to himself why had he even done you that favor. The first thought that popped up was that it was from the goodness of his heart, but you both knew he didn’t have such thing. He was just…protective of what he had. If he wasn’t, everything he owned would be broken, right?

With that, he called up a hitman. Not for an assassination attempt, but for a warning. A hollow bullet would hit a vase, and inside it was the message, use that perfume again, and your bones will be the next thing up for auction.

It was just Sylus being protective.

[whyse7vn]

CLINGY -

[ kim seokjin min yoongi x reader ]

SEOKJIN -

jin: i’m going to bed now if you even care

resting my body after a long hard day at

work if that’s even important in your eyes

almost died today if you even give a shit

it’s 2 am and i’m JUST going to sleep without you (my girlfriend) messaging me (your boyfriend) goodnight if you even care a little bit

you have 5 missed calls from jin!

jin: be honest do you care?

y/n: no

jin: you didn’t say gn

y/n: it’s 2 am

jin: no u right you don’t even care that’s what’s up

y/n: what

jin: no lol i get it whatever

y/n: what do you want

jin: a goodnight would be nice

y/n: it’s 2 am

jin: yeah???

y/n: am

as in morning

jin: awww who died

here for u 💓

y/n: morning not mourning

jin: can you say gn pls so i can sleep

you have 1 miss call from jin!

y/n: CAN YOU FUCK OFF

jin: CAN YOU SAY GN

y/n: no joke ur 5 seconds away from being blocked

jin: just say you don’t care about me at this point 😭

y/n: i do not care about you at this point

jin: um

y/n: at all

jin: ok well that bit wasn’t necessary

i think i got ur point

y/n: i’m glad

jin: i guess i’ll just go to sleep then

without a goodnight from my lovely girlfriend

sighs

you have 10 miss calls from jin!

y/n: jin

jin: yeah

you can no longer send messages to this contact!

jin: 😧

YOONGI -

yoongi: miss you

delivered 5 minutes ago

yoongi: wow that’s crazy i’ll just jump off a cliff then

y/n: that was kinda dramatic

yoongi: sorry do i know you?

y/n: get a grip

yoongi: reply faster

do you even love me anymore?

y/n: well

yoongi: that’s not funny

y/n: do you see me laughing?

yoongi: take it back

y/n: i take it back

love when ur clingy >.<

yoongi: i’m not clingy

y/n: you just threatened to kill urself cuz i didn’t reply to you instantly

yoongi: that’s basic respect

i message you

you reply within the next second

y/n: that’s unrealistic

yoongi: no it’s not

you do it most of the time

lately you’ve been slacking tho

y/n: excuse me????????

yoongi: ur excused

y/n: and if i slap you?

yoongi: i’ll enjoy it

y/n: YOONGI OMG?/):).£

LMAOOOO

are you dying????

what is wrong with you

ur acting like you love me or something

yoongi: don’t say things like that

makes it seem like i’m a bad boyfriend

y/n: looks left looks right

yoongi: i’m a good boyfriend

y/n: looks at audience looks back at you

yoongi: stop

i am a good boyfriend

y/n: yeah!

yoongi: and if i slap YOU?

y/n: GASP

good boyfriends don’t threaten domestic violence

yoongi: neither do good girlfriends

y/n: are you saying i’m a bad girlfriend?

yoongi: looks left looks right

y/n: how low of you min yoongi…

i am NOT a bad girlfriend

yoongi: ur not a good one either

so where does that leave us

y/n: i’m the best?

yoongi: lol!

y/n: is this ur fucked up way of calling me a good girl

yoongi: ok where tf did you get that from?

ur really bad at reading the room

y/n: i’m in no room

yoongi: it’s a saying 🙄

y/n: ignoring you just rolled ur eyes at me rn

i’m SAYING we should kiss

yoongi: wow so clingy

y/n: what can i say!!!

yoongi: can you acknowledge what i open our conversation with pls

y/n: no

yoongi: ok kys bye

y/n: ur clingy

yoongi: k

now come home

—

idk the jin one was the first draft for the jin part in delivered i think and idk where the yoongi one came from just found her has said hey this is ok ig… thought they kinda gave the same vibe so posted them together better than nothing right? SIGHS sorry idk WHO WANNA BUY ME A NEW PHONE WHO⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

i’m spiralling and have no storage pls forgive me

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earth2ela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi

[libingan]

—escapism.

cw: cheating, age gaps, ooc simon because this was kind of rushed sorry babes, erm ig emotional neglect ??? idk how to tag warnings JSJDWJSJW

a/n: not my best work, but like, im having writer’s block rn so i just wrote the first thing that came to mind because i feel like i need to post something for yall HAAHAHAHAHA

as always, part two depends on how much this fic eats

you could feel the tension crackling in the air as you and your boyfriend faced off in your cramped living room. the argument had started small—another forgotten dinner, a dismissive comment—but it quickly escalated into a full-blown fight. his words were sharp, and his eyes, once warm, were cold and distant.

“you never fucking listen!” you yelled, your voice raw with frustration. “i’ve been trying to get you to notice me for months, but you’re always too busy with your own shit!”

he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “i’m tired of your whining. what do you want me to do, huh? i work hard and all you do is complain!”

“i want you to care!” you snapped back, feeling the sting of betrayal. “i want you to actually touch me, to know what i need, not just what you think you know!”

he threw his hands up in exasperation, his face hardening. “fine! if you’re so unhappy, maybe you should just leave!”

his words cut deeper than any physical blow could have. you felt a surge of anger and hurt. “maybe i fucking will!” you shouted, grabbing your coat and storming out, the door slamming behind you with a deafening bang. the sound echoed in the empty hallway as you rushed to your own place.

in the dimly lit sanctuary of your apartment, you stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection a mixture of rage and sadness. determined to reclaim some control over your life, you pulled out your most daring outfit—something that made you feel powerful and fierce. the tight, low-cut dress hugged your curves, and the bold makeup accentuated your defiance.

you headed to a bar, a place where anonymity and distraction offered some solace. the bar was loud and crowded, but you walked in with a purposeful stride. you ordered a strong drink and let the warmth of the alcohol begin to soothe your frayed nerves. it wasn’t long before you felt the eyes of others on you, their gazes filled with various levels of interest.

that’s when you noticed him—the man staring right at you. he was seated alone at the far end of the bar, his rugged features partially obscured by a black surgical mask. despite the mask, there was something compelling about him. he seemed a lot older, but his presence was commanding and intriguing. his gaze was intense, even if you couldn’t see his expressions clearly.

you found yourself drawn to him, not just by his looks but by the way he seemed to command the space around him. you hesitated for a moment, then made your way over, the alcohol giving you just enough courage.

the man looked up from his drink as you approached, his gaze piercing yet inviting. “evening,” he greeted, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "rough night?"

you signal the bartender to bring you another shot before turning to the man, an exhausted expression plastered onto your face. "you have no idea."

the bartender arrived with your drink, setting it down in front of you. before he could leave, the man next to you gestured to him with a firm yet polite command. "put the lady's drink on my tab," he said, his voice carrying a hint of mystery. a slight smile played on his lips as he glanced at you, his eyes intense and unreadable. the bartender nodded and moved on, leaving you feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity about this intriguing stranger.

"simon riley," he introduced himself with a nod. you offered your name in return, extending your hand for a handshake. he gladly took it, lifting his mask just enough to expose his lips before planting a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

"i have a boyfriend," you stated. simon chuckled in response, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "not a very good one if you're out here, no?"

you hesitated for a moment, but simon's easy confidence made it hard to stay reserved. as the conversation flowed, you found yourself laughing and sharing stories, your initial wariness melting away. there was an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that felt natural and effortless.

simon had a way of making you feel seen and heard, his attention unwavering as he listened to you speak. he shared glimpses of his own life, his stories filled with adventure and depth. with each passing moment, you felt more alive, the weight of your earlier frustrations lifting.

you couldn't remember the last time you felt this way with your boyfriend. the spark, the excitement, the genuine interest—it had all been missing for so long. being with simon reminded you of what it felt like to be truly connected with someone, to feel that electric thrill of mutual attraction.

as the evening wore on and the alcohol worked its magic, you found yourself relaxing. after a few more drinks, the liquid courage made you more open. simon’s patient listening and calming presence encouraged you to open up.

as the night deepened and the bar's ambiance grew more intimate, you found yourself opening up to simon in a way you hadn't with anyone in a long time.

"my boyfriend... he's been so emotionally distant lately," you admitted, swirling your drink as you gathered your thoughts. "he's not as loving as he used to be. it's like he's more focused on his own world, and i'm just an afterthought."

simon listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours. "that sounds tough," he said softly. "you deserve to feel loved and appreciated."

you nodded, grateful for his understanding. "it's been hard. sometimes, it feels like i'm invisible to him. we haven't been intimate in what feels like forever. i almost feel like a virgin again because it's been so long since we last had sex."

simon raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity and concern in his gaze. "that must be really frustrating."

"it is," you sighed. "and the last time we did... he couldn't even find the clit. it was awkward and disappointing. it made me feel like he doesn't really care about my needs."

simon’s eyes remained locked on you, his presence steady and unyielding. “that sounds incredibly frustrating. it’s like he’s stopped making an effort to connect with you.”

“exactly!” you exclaimed, frustration spilling out. “it’s like he’s not even trying. i feel invisible, and he doesn’t even care. it’s like i’m just a roommate or something.”

simon’s voice was low and soothing. “you deserve more than that. it’s clear you’re looking for someone who actually cares and pays attention to what you need.”

simon leaned in closer, his presence radiating warmth and intensity. his hand, firm yet gentle, rested on your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. “you know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a seductive edge, “i’d like to get to know you better. i can’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”

his fingers traced a light, deliberate path on your skin, the touch both comforting and thrilling. “why don’t you come home with me tonight? we can talk more, and I’d love to help you thryou hesitated, feeling a mix of curiosity and caution. “i don’t know, simon. you’re clearly older than me, and we’ve just met. it feels a bit... risky.”

simon’s gaze remained steady, his hand still gently resting on your thigh. “how old are you?” he asked, his voice calm and composed.

“i’m 27,” you replied.

“27,” simon repeated, his tone neutral. “you’re pushing thirty, not some freshly eighteen little girl. you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions.” he paused briefly. “could show you a good time, love, make you feel things your little boy toy can't. i'm only 42, you know. is that too old for you?"

you thought to yourself that yes, it might be too old, but right now? with the hurt and desperation for someone who would actually treat you right? you found yourself saying, “no, it’s not too old. yes, I’d like that.”

that's how you ended up in simon's apartment bedroom, naked and lost in the throes of pleasure.

simon's got you on your back, legs hooked over his shoulders, his head buried in between your thighs, mouth working overtime against your dripping cunt. he keeps his gaze on you the entire time, watching your expression contort in pleasure as he parts your lips with his thumb, pressing the pad of his tongue against your sensitive clit, swiping the muscle side to side. you let out a soft moan, hands tangled in simon's dirty blonde locks, pushing his head down further.

"fuck-! just like that, please, feels so good..." you mewl, causing him to groan, his own hips rutting against the sheets, staining the fabric with his pre as he greedily sucked on your sensitive, pulsating nub.

you missed this. this overwhelming feeling of pleasure that hinders your thinking, preventing any coherent thought from entering your mind. you couldn't think, see, nor feeling anything aside from the heat pooling deep inside of you. if simon could unravel you this much with his mouth, how much more damage would he be able to do with his cock?

the thought alone was enough to send you over the edge, but just as you were about to let the feeling override your senses, simon pulls back and sat up, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal, a slick sheen coating his lips and his chin. "fuckin' delicious," he grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

you let out a needy whine at that, lightly kicking simon for edging you. "you're an ass..." you grumbled, to which the older man responds to with an amused chuckle. "won't be sayin' that when i fuck you with this thing." he says, grabbing his thick cock and resting it on your belly. you gawk in awe at his size, swallowing the lump in your throat. how the hell were you going to fit that inside?

"it'll fit." simon mutters, as if reading your mind.

he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing the small condom packet next to his lamp. he rips off the foil with his teeth, hurriedly slipping it on to his dick. simon's hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to him. he grabs his cock with one hand, dragging it up your slit, rubbing the fat head against your clit a couple of times before positioning himself against your entrance. "ready?"

"hurryyy...' you whine.

slowly, simon began to sink his girth into your pussy, stretching you out with his fat cock to a point where pain collided with the pleasure. you clutched onto his arm, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"that's it, love," he said, voice raspy and strained as he inched further inside of you, "good girl, taking me so well... just a little more, okay?"

you nod. it's all you could bring yourself to do as simon finally bottomed out. he lets out a grunt, gently rocking his hips into you. he kept a steady rhythm, taking his time with each thrust. the slow, agonizing pace drove you wild, especially after he denied you an orgasm just a few minutes prior.

"bloody fuckin' hell..." simon groans, inhaling sharply as your walls hugged snugly around his cock. "not gonna last long if you're this tight, love," he whispers, burying his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin. a desperate whimper escapes your lips, legs wrapping around simon's waist as you complain about his pace. "faster, please... i can't, it's not enough..."

simon simpers, pulling back just enough to leave the tip inside before slamming back into your warm cunt, ripping out a loud moan from your mouth. "that what you want, love?" he asks smugly.

"fuck yes—again! fuck, do it again, please!"

who was simon to deny such a pretty litte thing?

his thrusts begin to accelerate, slamming into you frantically, driving his cock in and out of your tight, wet heat. "fuck, si—ah, shit!" you whimpered, eyes watering with each pound.

simon's hand reaches down, rubbing his thumb against your clit in circles. "does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" he growled, reveling in the way you seemed to tighten up around him at the question. "fucking answer." he demanded, delivering a single hard thrust, causing his tip to kiss your cervix. you cried out at the intensity, shaking your head, sputtering out incomprehensible words with each slam of his cock into your pussy. "gotta him bring him over then. show him how to treat a pretty little girl like you."

simon's previously rhythmic thrusts were now eratic, hips slapping into yours haphazardly, his hand beginning to ache with each circle of his thumb on your nub.

it didn't take long until you were finally teetering over the egde. you threw your head back, "simon, i'm almost—SIMON!"

with a loud cry and a final roll of simon's hips, you both reached your peak. simon let out a strained groan, releasing into the condom. he leaned forward, sighing, and rested his forehead against your shoulder blade.

for a few seconds, you lay in motionless silence, the sound of your shaky breaths filling the space as you both tried to regain your composure.

“jesus christ,” simon eventually groaned, pressing a brief kiss to your shoulder. “you felt amazing.” he then gently eased himself out of you and rolled onto his side, lying next to you. “your boyfriend’s really missin’ out,” he added.

as you lay there, your eyes flickered to your phone, which had been buzzing non-stop. simon noticed your distracted glance and asked, “boyfriend?”

before you could respond, he reached over, snatching the phone from your hand. with a decisive motion, he placed it back on his nightstand, out of reach. he turned back to you, pulling you closer with a firm, yet gentle embrace.

“let’s not think about him,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “tonight’s about you and me.” he nuzzled closer, his touch warm and insistent. “how about we see if we can make this night even better?”

with that, he guided you back into his arms, ready for round two, the promise of a deeper connection hanging in the air. as the night unfolded, the two of you lost yourselves in each other, making love with a renewed sense of passion and intimacy.

meanwhile, your phone continued to buzz with missed calls and texts from your boyfriend, each notification a reminder of the unresolved tension. but for tonight, you chose to ignore it all, focusing instead on the moment with simon and savoring the connection and pleasure that had been so absent. after all, wasn't it his idea for you to leave?

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[lunaviee]

can i request where reader cant go to their match and they got angry which makes them say the word "i shouldve invite *ex's name*, she wouldve come." and reader reaction can be up to you! with rin and maybe chigiri? thank you so much and please stay hydrate! sending loves <33

OHHH MYYY GODDD ANONNN……..

the way i gasped so loud when i saw this OMGOMG

okay so, idk if you’re wanting PURE ANGST for this but like i’ll add fluff at the end anyway bc the more the merrier😇😁😁

OKAY SO UMM..i’m a procrastinator, it’s no secret. so uhh chigiris will be posted when i remember to work on it, sorry😭

“are you serious?” “you’re..kidding, right?”

chigiri hyoma and rin itoshi x reader (seperate) click here for chigiri’s

tags/warnings: angst to comfort, swearing, arguing, NOT PROOFREAD…

synopsis: if he’s so insistent on you being there to support him, why doesn’t he do the same?

a/n: i am SO SORRY this took so long </3 i got busy but this request is soo..chefs kiss i hope i did it justice😓

RIN ITOSHI—

the faint mumbles from the tv filled rin’s apartment as you made a quick snack to eat, knowing your boyfriend should be home any minute. you sat down on the couch to eat, turning the tv volume up as background noise while you looked out the window. it faced a gorgeous view of your city, along with a nice view of the sunset.

after some time, you were back in the kitchen to clean up a bit.

*click*

the jingling of keys indicated rin was home, a tad later that usual but you payed no mind to it.

“hey,” you smiled, “welcome home, how was practice?” arms wrapping around his neck as he set his bag down, taking his shoes off. his arm snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him, planting a kiss on your temple.

“eh, same as always. those lukewarm lunatics don’t know what they’re doing”

you hummed in response, rin pulling away from you to look you in the eye. he spoke again. “we have a game in a few days. you’re going, right?” it sounded more like a demand than a question.

“oh uh about that” you broke eye contact, a twinge of nervousness tainted your face. “i was given an extra shift at work so i’ll be swamped, i don’t think i’ll be able to make it, sorry”

his before softened gaze now pierced right through you, full of annoyance. “really? i thought you’d want to come to my games.” his arms left your torso and flopped to his side, lower back resting on the counter.

“i do! i always do..rin you know this, i go to your games when i can but lately i’ve just been more busy an-” you rambled.

he cut you off, “quit the excuses.”

“excuse me?” you replied, shocked at how his silver tongue was so quick to interrupt you.

“i get it. you’re busy. you don’t have to make up these half-baked excuses and try to make me feel better.” he moved from the counter, straightening his back and showing his full height, looking down on you as if you were less than him at that moment.

“excuses? rin, what the hell are you talking about? i’m being serious.” confusion swirled in your mind, what was up with him??

“you know, i never had these problems with *ex’s name*. she was always happy to come to my games. no excuses, no lies. every game, she was there. why can’t you be like that?” rin’s venom stained words singed into your brain, glints of annoyance pooled in his eyes. a twinge of guilt settled in his gut the minute those words spilled out of his mouth, but he payed no mind to it.

“what?” your eyes widened in disbelief, “are you fucking serious?”

how could he say that? sure, rin was petty and used bitter language when he was upset, but comparing you to his ex? that was a new low, even for him. after all of the crap you two talked about when mentioning both of your exes in the past, you’d assume he’d want absolutely nothing to do with her. right?

“why wouldn’t i be?” not once did his gaze leave your figure, was he serious? “she actually took my career seriously.”

you were beyond shocked, eyes narrowing as your brows knitted together. “invite her then.” you retorted. “maybe i will, maybe then i’ll have someone who actually supports me there.” he scoffed.

his words made your blood boil, eye twitching before you spoke again, “get out.” you gritted through your teeth, fingers fiddling with the hem of your (his) sweater as to not lose your cool.

“what?” he scoffed, not expecting such a response (he really should have, what was he thinking??)

“did i fucking stutter? or is your skull too thick to hear what i have to say. get. out.”

the strikers face further scrunched, yet not moving an inch. “this is my apartment. if you’re upset, then leave.” he brushed past you without a single regret as to what he had said, not entirely believing you’d actually leave, where else did you have to go?

“fine then.” you slipped your shoes on while dialing a number on your phone before slamming the door, leaving the rin to sit with his thoughts. you had much, much more to say, but the thought of having to stay in the same vicinity as you made your stomach churn.

who did you call? why, your best friend of course, who else would you trust with this information. sure, rin’s teammates weren’t bad people to open up to, but you needed someone who could understand your feelings through angry sobs and incoherent mumbles.

it was only a matter of time before you were sat on yours friends bed, angry tears burning your cheeks as you rambled on about how dumb your boyfriend was.

“break up with him” your friend mumbled, only half joking. “me personally, i wouldn’t stay with a man, nah, a BOY who brings up his ex when he’s mad..”

you lifted your head from the tear stained pillow to meet your friend’s gaze. “yeah but……ugh i hate when you’re right” your sentence ending with a laugh

“i’m kidding..kind of” she sneered “either way, screw him, ghost his ass until he comes crying at your doorstep”

“what??” you shot up from your position, now almost on top of your friend. she was faced you, a more serious expression painting her face

“seriously though, you shouldn’t have to deal with that shit [n/n], he has the be the one to apologize.” you nodded in response, good thing your friend had a bit more common sense than you did in that moment.

“yeah, you’re right, thanks”

“any time, now do you wanna stay here or are you good to go home?”

“i’ll stay here and bug you more”

“okay then” she laughed out, the two of you now laying on the bed on your backs, staring at the ceiling

• { time skip - two days later } •

the radio silence that came from rin was like torture, did he not care? not a single text or phone call, not even a message given from one of his teammates. it was hard to stay positive.

sure, he deserved the silent treatment, but he was your boyfriend. his company single-handedly made your days better. being separated because of a fight that he didn’t want to resolve was stupid.

your friend tried taking you out today to get your mind off of the situation. it was going well, up until you walked into your favorite cafe.

you were met with a face you were too familiar with. rin’s. his eyes widened in disbelief and he twitched, almost as if he was about to run after you. and so you and your friend took one good look at him and immediately left. if the argument was going to be resolved, it wasn’t going to be in a public cafe.

your friend pushed you by the shoulders as you both shuffled out of the doors, you pulling out your phone to find another place to go to at the same time.

“shit.” was the only thing that rin had managed to mutter out as he saw the two of you running away from the cafe. it’s not that he wanted to avoid you. it’s that he was ashamed. he was scared that nothing he would say would amount to enough of an apology for what he said.

rin was scared that this was the end of you two. his worst fears of losing the one person he knew loved and understood him were coming true and is was his fault. the past few days were filled with doubt and regret, his teammates even noticing his practices were depleting.

the rest of the day came and went, your friend dropped you off back at your apartment where you collapsed on the couch, left with your thoughts once again. you were about to just pass out on your couch and ditch work the next morning, like you have been for the past few days.

that was until you heard a frantic knock on your door, jolting you awake. your worried expression dropped to one of annoyance and bitterness; it was rin. but, he looked different. his usually blank expression was now one of exhaustion and hurt.

he’d been..crying?

your eyes widened in confusion, you opened your mouth to tell him to leave before he cut you off.

“i’m sorry” he blurted out

he was looking down to you, except it was much different than before. rin looked desperate, his eye contact only further confirmed it.

he reached his hand out to place it on your shoulder, hesitating. you opened the door to let him in, sitting on the edge of your couch next to each other.

“i’m so sorry [name].”

“i know.”

“it was stupid, you mean so much to me and i..i ruined it.”

“i know.”

“please, you don’t need to forgive me now i just…”

he paused. rin’s head moved to look at the ground.

“i just need to know you won’t leave me. you can ignore me for as long as you’d like and i’d understand. but just…please i need you back” he begged, small tears brimming at his eyes, what a rare sight to see.

silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t like the comfortable silences you’ve shared before. it was tense and awkward.

“okay” your voice was barely above a whisper, “i won’t leave you, i think we both know that” you say with a smile.

rin looked back up at you, eyes wide, full of hope and relief.

“but listen i…” the moonlight only further highlighted just how much the two of you had been crying

“it’s gonna take some time. that was really fucked up, you know that?”

“yeah..yeah i know. i’m sorry. you’re nothing like her i-”

“i know.”

the two of you were now looking at each other, faces flushed from crying and relief. the silence was comfortable again.

“let’s just..go to sleep, yeah? we can talk about it in the morning, i think we both could discuss better afterwards” you offered, leaning closer to the armrest of your couch as you were too tired to go to your bed

rin hummed back in response, laying on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. your hands found their way to his hair, heartbeats practically synchronizing.

“you know..i’m still not going to your game” you whispered, peeking one eye open to watch your boyfriend. he smiled, “i know” a laugh spilled out of his mouth before you both fell asleep.

[babydollmarauders]

VEGAS, TOKYO… — JACK HUGHES (MEDIA MANAGEMENT: SUMMER EDITION)

notes: i’m aware that i haven’t finished the playoffs parts- i apologize- but i wanted to spit out a quick summer edition to remind y’all that this au exists!

y/ndevils00

liked by dawson1417, jackhughes, and 110,381 others

y/ndevils00 you can catch me in vegas, catch me in tokyo… 🤠

tagged jackhughes and _alexturcotte

jackhughes babe…

y/ndevils00 what? we’ve been to vegas and tokyo this past month, just letting everyone know 😇

nicohischier why are you like this?

y/ndevils00 just the way i was born, i guess!

nicohischier is there any way to change it?

trevorzegras @/nicohischier there is not. trust me, i’ve tried

user74 y/n is the most unhinged WAG and i’m in love with her

user10 how is she unhinged with this post? i’m confused

user38 @/user10 her caption is a song “you can catch me in vegas, catch me in tokyo, catch me on the d*ck tryna ride like a rodeo”

user10 @/user38 oH OKAY

dawson1417 GO BEST FRIEND (3) THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND (3)

y/ndevils00 you’re my only true supporter in this sea of fake fans 🤧🫶

dawson1417 i’ve got your back best friend!

john.marino97 you make me question things. like our friendship.

y/ndevils00 and how amazing it is?

john.marino97 among other things…. like why it exists

lhughes_06 I DIDNT NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS! NOBODY DOES!

y/ndevils00 oh smush, as if you don’t live with us…

lhughes_06 i’ve decided to move in with John next season

y/ndevils00 no <3

lhughes_06 well, i tried

trevorzegras thriving and diving!

y/ndevils00 🤿💦

jackhughes what do these even mean?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes idk, i’m just rolling with it. i just assume you guys never know what your own comments mean either

user27 y/n calling hockey guys out on their weird comments 😭 she’s so real

_quinnhughes have you been watching edits again?

y/ndevils00 i don’t have to answer to you

_quinnhughes so yes?

y/ndevils00 yeah 😔

jesperbratt miss you! hope you’re having fun!

y/ndevils00 i’m gonna die for you. it’s no longer an “i would”, it’s an “i will”.

jesperbratt i would like you alive when i get back, please!

y/ndevils00 if you insist 😔

jackhughes you know my mom has this app, right?

y/ndevils00 ellen said i should post these pics! she said you look handsome!

jackhughes you concern me

y/ndevils00 that’s my job as your work wife

jackhughes you know you have a real title of my girlfriend?

y/ndevils00 i like this one better. it has the word “wife” in it

jackhughes i give up

colecaufield i don’t get a feature but ALEX does? what kind of friendship is this?

y/ndevils00 i’m so sorry, teddy bear! i’ll do better next time 😔

colecaufield thank you, bubble!

_alexturcotte damn, i look hot

y/ndevils00 does nobody care about how EYE look on MY OWN post?!

_alexturcotte you look great, honey bun

y/ndevils00 THANK YOU! FINALLY!

jackhughes you in that dress 🤤

y/ndevils00 if i remember correctly, me in that dress didn’t last long 🤭

jackhughes what can i say? it looked better on the floor

trevorzegras GET A ROOM, NASTIES!

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras i’m gonna flush your zyn down the toilet

[weirdsht]

Hello! Good morning lol. I hope you're doing well :₱ i gotta say ur writing is good and addicting. I keep coming back it's eating me alive

I have a thought abt ur recent yan!cale post :₱

What if Cale actually got sum magical jewelry on the reader that prevents their risky, suic1d∆l powers from working? The reader realizes it's basically stuck to them and is unable to take it off, remaining stuck unless someone powerful in magic, like Eruhaben, removes it personally. They feel off about it at first, though they eventually accept it because it was Cale who really wanted it on them, and they believe that he's someone who wants nothing but the safety of his loved ones. But then---

Reader gets kidnapped, gets harmed in the worst way possible-

Lol sorry, idk why but yandere cale is so-

😆💞

Blood-Red Garnet - Yan!Cale/Reader

notes: my visualization for the bracelet

tags: gender-neutral reader, yandere cale, torture and injuries (nothing too graphic), hints of possessiveness, hints of unhealthy relationship and dependency but reader doesn't realise it

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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A shiny gold bracelet with a piece of blood-red jewel in the middle was dangled in [name]’s face by Cale. It was a gift, or so he says. Told the ability user that it’s both an accessory and a preventative measure.

“Preventative measure? For what?”

“For your abilities. I don’t want you dying on me because of your reckless power.”

[Name] wore the bracelet even though they were hesitant at first. Their ability was their primary way of fighting. However, Cale was right. That ability is too dangerous. Plus, they still know how to wield a sword and fight hand-to-hand combats so they should be fine.

“By the way you can only use your abilities if I allow it or if a dragon dispels the magic on that thing.”

Right..?

Apparently not.

[Name] desperately stares at the three pieces of garnet in their bracelet. As if it would magically come off if they stared at it hard enough.

When the ability user first got the bracelet they were happy whenever they looked at the garnet it holds. The colour reminds them of Cale’s hair. Reminds them that the young master gifted it to them because he was concerned for their well-being.

However, now the jewel brings them frustration. The enchantment was placed on those three small circles. If only [name] can remove them.

Then maybe they won’t be subjected to this torture anymore.

“Your beloved commander won't save you. Just tell us where he is right now and whether or not his unconscious. We’ll let you have a quick death once you do.”

“If I’m gonna die either way then I’ll gladly keep everything to my– AHHH!”

[Name]’s words got cut off as another one of their fingers was broken by the torturer interrogating them.

“Are you sure you can take more of this? I can still break your toes if you’re so adamant.”

The torturer mocked them. Gently caressing his fingers over their feet before looking back again at their messed-up fingers.

[Name] merely laughs. They might be beaten up and have no way of fighting as their ability is suppressed, but they won’t say anything. Not now, not ever.

“Torture me all you– keugh! All you want. You won’t get an ounce of information from me.”

Despite being beaten up and coughing up blood, the ability user still had a smile on their face. A mocking smile that seems to rival their torturer’s mocking tone earlier.

The torturer’s face contorts in anger. He looked as if his ready to kill the ability user. Honestly, [name] thinks that would be better. They were getting tired too, they didn’t know how much more pain they could take.

Craaaaack! Psshhh

Just about when the torturer was raising a sword to inflict more pain on [name], a red thunderbolt suddenly fried the man. He was thoroughly burned to a crisp, almost like chicken deep fried in oil.

It was so strong that everyone within the vicinity could feel the anger of those thunderbolts.

And [name] didn’t need to see where it came from to know that it was Cale who did that.

“[Name]! We’re here to rescue you! I’m sorry for being late, I’m sure Saint Jack can heal you…”

Raon spoke in their head while supporting their back. His voice sounded as if he was crying. [Name] could also feel their back becoming wet.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine”

The ability user comforted the toddler. They want to pet him but it’s impossible due to the state of their hands. Raon nodded, his cheeks squishing on [name]’s back. Once he regained his composure he used flight magic on them so they could get out of the cell.

Crash! Bang! Tak!

Outside was chaotic. At the centre of that chaos was Cale and all of his ancient powers running rampant. His face was contorted in something that can only be described as fury. All their other friends had to keep their distance because it almost looked as if the redhead was not in the right state of mind.

“The human has been like that ever since you got kidnapped! I don’t think I’ve seen him that angry.”

Raon tattled as they went closer to Cale. Despite looking like his out of his mind he had enough sanity left to create a path for [name] and Raon.

Cale’s face softened for a moment when he was face to face with [name]. However, it didn’t last long once he saw their state. There’s blood flowing out of their mouth. Wounds of varying degrees littered across their body. Not to mention the absolute wreck of a state their hands are in.

“I’ll be fine.”

[Name] tried to assure Cale who was stroking their cheek. But he isn’t having it. He could see how the ability user is using every fibre of their being to not wince. Probably so that Raon won’t cry anymore.

“Yes, you’ll be fine.”

Cale will make sure of it.

But for now, he must take care of these lowlifes that dare touch what’s his.

“Sleep. When you wake up we’ll be back home.”

Following Cale’s words, [name] closed their eyes. Succumbing to sleep as if the chaos happening behind them didn’t exist.

“Raon, Saint Jack is down there with Rosalyn. Tell him to make sure not a single scar will remain on [name]’s body.”

His negligence already allowed someone else to take his [name], he’ll be damned if he allows another man’s mark to linger on their body.

“Once we get home let’s ask Eruhaben-nim to put some defensive spell in that bracelet.”

“Let’s do that human! We’ll be going now! Be careful, I know you’re angry but you can’t cough blood!”

With that, the toddler used his magic to [name] to where Jack is. Leaving Cale to run wild.

Best to say that no enemy got out of that place alive after Cale was done with them.

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - My Fawn & My Shadow: Chapter Eighteen

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Why 2 alternate endings? A few reasons; the main reason is because I wrote this first part with Angel and Mikaela and FELL IN LOVE with it. It was so cute and adorable I had to include it somehow. Also, because not everyone loves a pregnancy trope. I, particularly, was genuinely torn. I could not decide how I wanted things to end. "My Fawn and My Shadow" will include a pregnancy trope but "Paris" will not.

I will say, the epilogue I have planned for "My Fawn and My Shadow" had me crying (were they happy tears? were they sad tears? Is she foreshadowing? IDK!) - but, that being said, to each their own. Should you choose to read both, be aware that some sections are straight up copy and paste. The Epilogues will obviously vary greatly.

P.S. Ignore the timeline for the pregnancy trope. In reality, this is not how biology works. But someone *cough* author *cough* forgot to factor in the timeline by the time she got to this chapter... It was part of my original outline, but I got carried away *insert upside-down smiley face here*

<3 Stay smutty

My Fawn & My Shadow:

Chapter Eighteen

Content Warning: Unwanted Pregnancy, Suggestions of Abortion, Self Harm

T-6 Hours Before the Portal Opens...

“Angel!” you practically screamed, falling into the spider demon’s destroyed room. Well, technically, it was not destroyed; this was his normal state of being. 

You fall onto the bed, your foot catching on a wadded-up sweater on the ground. You got a face full of Fat Nuggets before Angel jumped up and almost punched you in the stomach. 

“What the fuck are you doin’ in here, Hairclip, screaming and scaring the shit out of me this early in the mornin’!?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. You noted the time - it was ten in the morning - not that early. Well, early for Angel. 

“I need you to come with me somewhere,” the anxiety was bubbling in your chest, overflowing into your words.

Angel paused, “Is everything okay? Is it the Extermination? Did they come early!?” 

“Angel,” you bite. “Please?” 

He looked at you, trying to read behind your eyes, before fully seeing how serious you were. He nodded before pushing Fat Nuggets to the side so he could get up and dress. 

“So, uh, where we goin’?” He asked as he pulled on a pair of pants. The demon struggled a bit, be it the sudden cessation of slumber or the booze from yesterday, or both, you didn’t know.

You curl into yourself on his bed, knotting your hands together to stop the shaking. “Wrath.” 

Angel froze, his eyes alight with shock. “I’m sorry, toots, I don’t think I heard ya’ right. Wrath? As in the Circle of Hell?” 

You nodded. 

“Wow,” he gawked. “This is serious… Wait, I can’t leave Pride, so how…” 

You snapped your fingers before he finished his sentence, amassing a portal in the middle of his room. The Circle’s familiar orange glow illuminated his white fur. 

Angel jumped backward and fell on the ground, his mouth gaping at the interdimensional crack you just punched into his bedroom wall. “Holy shit fuck!” 

Oh, you forgot only Alastor knew you could do that. Desperate times, however…

“You can, actually,” you shrug. “Just gotta take a different door.” 

Angel looked between you and the wall a few more times before shaking his head and finished dressing. 

Your mind was numb, your thoughts all jumbled into a knotted mess. How could this have happened? It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t…

“Hey,” he put a hand on your knee, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya’ okay?” He looked down at you with wide eyes. Angel was the only one you could trust right now. 

You nod before taking his hand. 

Wrath was a time capsule, stuck in the ages of the Wild West: the American Frontier. Fitting the place named for anger was a desert. 

Despite the change of seasons in the world above, Wrath was scorching. Although the Harvest Moon Festival was still a few months away, the locals were skittering about the small town in preparation. They were so busy they didn’t think twice at the two strangers zipping through the traffic, hidden under hoods and glasses. Angel protested at first, but once you pointed out that Wrath natives were imps, then he understood - the spider demon would stick out like a sore thumb. 

The demon ducked under the doorframe - probably three times the height of an average imp, but you couldn’t help that. The imps stared but not too long. 

“A convenience store? You dragged me all the way down here for a candy bar?” Angel spun in circles, taking in everything. 

God, he was so obvious.

“No,” was all you could manage. 

Being a Native Heaven born you were subject to certain… biological processes that Human Sinners were not. No surprise the Pride Ring didn’t sell the necessary products to aid in those situations, so you’d slip down here, grab a few things and head back up. 

But this…

You headed down the aisle labeled “Feminine Products” and stopped deadpan at what you were looking for. There were so many options, how did you know which one was the right one? 

“So hey, how about we check out a bar while we’re… Oh,” Angel came to a stop next to you, noticing the blood drain from your face at the things you were looking at. “Oh, shit, Hairclip.” 

“Yeah,” your voice cracked, trying to hold back tears. 

Angel’s hand found your shoulder. He shook his head. “But how? I thought Human Sinners couldn’t… ya know?” 

“Reproduce.” You filled in the blank for him. “Me neither.”

Angel was silent for a moment, letting it all sink in. 

“But…” your lip quivered, “then I remembered my brother and Lilith. Where Adam was the first human soul in Heaven, Lilith was the first human soul in Hell, technically, and they had Charlie. I’m an Angel, like my brother and Al is a Human Sinner so…”

“Shit,” Angel breathed. 

Then you started to chuckle, “I don’t even know which one to buy.” 

Angel pulled you close, “Me neither, dollface, but we’ll figure this out together. I’m assuming you got money?” 

You nodded, the anxiety bubbling over into silent tears on your face. You started hiccuping, the emotional wave too much for your frazzled mind to handle. 

Angel grabbed all five of them, paid for them with the Native money you pulled from your pocket, then dragged you into the bathroom and locked the door. 

You sat on the floor, Angel starting a timer for the three minute countdown. Longest three minutes of your life. 

The spider demon sat cross-legged across from you. “So, why bring lil’ ol’ me and not Smiles?” 

You hiccuped, bringing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around yourself. “The Extermination is today. I can’t… He can’t be thinking about me. He has Adam to deal with. He can’t…”

“And what about yous?” 

You breathed, “I’ll be on the field with you guys, just like we planned.” 

“But…”

“No.” You stopped him. “No, Angel. No matter what happens, Al can’t know. Not until after. Please,” you begged. “He can’t know anything is wrong he…” you hiccuped. “Al isn’t as strong and invincible as he seems.”

“Wow, here I thought you thought he walked on water.”

You dropped your face into your knees and gave a small sob. The memories of the fake Radio Demon being held hostage at Voxtech flit through your mind. And, although it wasn't actually Al tied to the chair, he was still a Human Sinner. Which meant he could die. You could as well but not as easily...

“Hey, hey,” Angel crawled to your side and pulled you into your arms. “Okay, okay, I won’t say nothin’.” 

“Not around radios either,” you sniffled. “They work both ways with Al.”

You had tested it in passing the other day. Just to see what would happen. Although Al was not happy about the dirty comment you made into his speaker - as it pulled him from important business in one of his territories - he didn’t seem too upset when he pulled you through his shadows and properly snogged you in the Hotel hallway.

“Shit, seriously? If that’s the case then that man’s heard a lot of things from me he shouldn’t have. A lot of fun noises, too.” The spider demon wriggled his eyebrows, making you giggle. 

Angel always knew how to bring a smile to your face. 

“So, can I ask ya’ somethun’?” Angel’s tone turned serious, making your heart skip a beat. “Is the sex good?” 

You snorted, drying the tears under your eyes. 

“Look I ain’t judging, Hairclip, but ya’ always come down with these bruises and… marks. Don’t get me wrong it's hot, but I just wanna make sure he ain’t like… hurtin’ ya’ or nothin’?”

“No, no Angel. Al is a gentleman, I assure you.” A small smile formed on your lips. 

“So?” He nudged you.

“Insanely,” you giggled. 

“Figures. He’s hung isn’t he?” He winks.

You snorted into your hand. “Angel!” 

“Oh, come on. You ain’t gonna tell me the Radio Demon ain’t packin’? No way, I don’t believe it.”

“Well…” your face turned a bright red.

“I fuckin’ new it!” Angel cheered. 

RING! RING! RING! 

You stopped breathing completely. Angel shut off the alarm, before turning to you. “You want me to…?”

You nodded, your eyes staring off into space, the only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. You couldn’t look up as Angel checked the tests, didn’t dare try to read the expression in his eyes and mouth. 

The demon grabbed one, wrapped in a paper towel, and knelt before you.

“Before I show you this,” he turned the test upside down so you couldn’t read it. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.” 

A shaky breath escaped your lips, “I…”

What were you thinking? Fear, definitely fear, but were you devastated? Excited? Filled with hope or filled with dread? You didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t know what to feel because you didn’t know how Al was going to react if it came back positive. 

Would he be angry? Would he be excited? Would he even react at all? 

No. Your heart sank. No, he wouldn’t be excited. There are two things Al cares about: power, and chaos. There wasn’t room for anything else… or anyone…

You’d have to get rid of it. 

“I think, no matter what, I’ll tell Al after the Extermination tomorrow.” 

Angel nodded and flipped the test over. 

____________________________________________

T-3 hours until the portal opens…

“Okay, okay, I got this!” Collin breathed. 

Cletus banged him atop his head, “Just open the door!”

The sheep shot a dirty look at the… baby?... before drying his sweaty hooves on his overalls. 

This was it. This was the moment Collin had been waiting for his entire life. He has only ever seen the famous General at a distance and worshipped her from a far during meetings and through photographs. He had every single one of her fan club t-shirts and collector’s pins. He knew her battle strategies inside and out and scored perfect at every trivia night. He was the ultimate fan-girl and this was his moment to shine. 

And he was terrified. 

“Oh, my gosh!” Kennie shoved past him. “I’ll do it!” She prostrated before pulling the bedroom door open. 

The group froze, stunned by the sight of the yellow-eyed Angel ready and waiting for them on the other side. Mikaela Morningstar sat in a clothed chair perfectly perched in the entryway to her bedroom. The Angel had just finished the top laces of her leather boots before the Cherubs burst through the doorway. 

Mikaela had been waiting for them. 

Collin’s jaw audibly hit the floor at the sight of the warrior, legs crossed, one eyebrow perched in question, staring down at the three of them. She was like a goddess in material form - not to disrespect the Maker, of course. Her beauty practically radiated off of her in golden light as captivating as her irises. Although she had changed her hair and her wings were tucked out of the way, she was a vision. Collin couldn’t help but drool at the sight of her. 

“About time the three of you showed up,” the Angel laughed. “Talk about keeping a girl waiting.”

“You…” Cletus stumbled over his words. “You knew we were here?”

“Knew?” The Angel tipped her head in question. A habit she had picked up from a dear… friend. “You’ve been following me for days. Nifty’s collection of wool can only grow so much before a girl gets suspicious.” Mikaela laughed it off as if it was a joke, but Keenie’s head was still very, very sore. 

The Cherubs had no answer for her. 

“What can I do for you?” With hands perched in her lap, the General inspected the three of them, lazily soaking in their forms as they collectively entered the room. 

Wow. Mikaela Morningstar had expected them. Well, duh! Of course! She was God’s General! How could she not have seen them coming? She probably knew about everything: the phone call from Velvette, the orders from Rachel, their banishment from Heaven. She was, after all, an Archangel. Collin still couldn’t comprehend the situation. 

“Ms. Morningstar,” Collin began. Did he sound as nervous as he felt? “We have been sent from Heaven to return you to the Seraphim.”

The Angel blinked, but didn’t respond. Her face remained neutral as Collin spoke and even for a few moments after. He wiped his hooves on his pants again. The Cherub was thoroughly drenched in anxious sweat, which, hopefully, no one noticed. 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Kennie shoved her way forward. “Because you belong there? You’re Mikaela, the General, Heaven’s Archangel. You’ve been gone for over a hundred years doing…”

“God’s work.” Mikaela interrupted the sheep. 

“What?” Cletus asked. 

The Archangel chuckled. “You didn’t seriously think I just ran away from Heaven on a whim, did you?” 

The three Cherubs looked at each other for an answer, but it was the sheep who spoke first. “No, of course not!”

“Thank you, Collin,” Mikaela smiled. 

The Cherub’s heart jumped right out of his chest. “You know my name!?”

“Of course,” her eyes softened. “Why wouldn’t I know one of my biggest fans?”

____________________________________________

Yesterday…

“Hello, thank you for calling, C.H.E.R.U.B., how may we bless you today?”

“Hi! I’m calling about a loved one back on Earth who needs some help. It seems he’s lost his way a bit and I’d really rather not see him down here.” You twirled the cord in your hand.

Alastor sat across from you, a cup of tea in hand, one leg crossed over the other as he enjoyed the dyling light of day. 

“Of course! Can I get a name?”

“Well, actually… I’m quite protective of him, you see, and I want to know that you are sending your best.” The sweetness in your voice was practically sickening, but it made Alastor chuckle. “I was wondering who would be going. Would it be the three from the television commercial?”

“Cletus, Collin, and Keenie? By golly, no! They don’t work for us anymore.”

“Interesting…” You smiled. 

“Can I get the name of the person who needs a blessing?”

“No,” and you hung up the receiver. 

Alastor chuckled as he sipped his tea. “You make this look too easy, my doe. If it weren’t for the circumstances, you'd be running the place.”

This place... As in all of existence.

You grabbed your jasmine tea and clanked your cup with his. “How unfortunate the plan is to destroy it all instead.”

____________________________________________

Now...

The Cherub nearly feinted. 

The Archangel leaned in, speaking to the sheep directly. “You have to promise to keep everything I tell you a secret. No one can know that I am here.”

Collin blinked the stars from his eyes, “Of course! I would never!” 

In a whisper, Mikaela continued, “I’m on a secret mission from God. I can’t go into any detail, naturally…”

“Naturally!” Collin was nodding his head so hard he could have been mistaken for a bobble head. 

Mikaela leaned in a whispered, “... I’m here to find Roo.”

Collin stopped nodding. “Roo?”

“Roo.” Mikaela repeated, as if that answered all of their questions. 

“Wait!” Cletus interrupted once more. “You’re telling us that you are supposed to be here? Cavorting with demons!”

“Shhh,” Mikaela shushed. “Yes.”

Keenie scratched her sore head. “To find someone named Roo?”

“She’s the biggest threat against Heaven. Rumor has it that she’s planning an uprising against God. That’s why he left with me and went into hiding. Couldn’t have him unprotected while I hunted down this rebel.”

Too much information? Nope! Who the fuck is going to believe a bunch of banished Cherubs anyway? They can’t get back to Heaven and no one in Heaven would take them seriously even if they did. Negatives of fucking up with the Upstairs Management but a positive for you.

You could have told them any story that convinced them to leave you alone, and it would be no sweat off your back.

“Oooooooh,” Collin nodded. “That makes so much sense!”

“What!?” Keenie and Cletus echoed each other. 

“What?” Mikaela looked confused. “Do you think I’m lying?” She laughed. “Come now. I may be surrounded by demons, but I am still an Angel.” 

The three Cherubs blinked at her. 

“Oh.” Cletus awkwardly scratched his large head. 

Heaven Natives are so naive. Were you this gullible way back when?

The Angel adjusted the tie on her leather bracer. “And the three of you are interfering with my plan.” 

“What!?” Collin gawked. 

“I can’t exactly have Heaven stalking my every move while I’m on the job,” Mikaela rises from her chair, a towering figure over the tiny Cherubs. 

“Right! Right!” Collin was already headed for the door. 

Mikaela quickly ushered the other two out, ignoring the look of disbelief on their faces. 

“Thanks for understanding, guys.”

And then door shut behind them. 

Collin continued to drool in the direction of the doorway. 

“Now what?” Keenie asked as she dragged him by the collar down the hall.

“She’s so cool,” Collin gawked. 

Cletus smacked his face and rubbed the tension from his temples. “We return to Earth. I need time to think about this and I’m starving. I sure as fudge am not eating anything down here…”

____________________________________________

You shut the door behind them. 

“See,” you turned to the shadow at the back of the room. “I told you they’d believe me.” 

Alastor materialized from the darkness. With his cane in hand, he snaked the other around your waist and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You tried not to shutter at the contact, tried not to think about your stomach pressing into Al's…

This was not the first time you had run into one of Father’s minions. With Eve’s wild party streak, the two of you didn’t exactly keep a low profile. In fact, it would be odd for the two of you to not run into one of the Ishim or even a few Cherubs while they were on the job. You were recognized - because of course - and typically played it off as a happenstance run in while on a mission.

After all, the rumors in Heaven were that you were on some top secret mission with Father anyway. What were they more likely to believe: you were being a good little “Golden Girl” or playing Armageddon with Eve?

Eve on the other hand, either slept with the Holy invader if able, convinced them she was mortal if they were too young to know her face, or simply disappeared leaving you to fend for yourself.

What a friendship the two of you had…

“I never doubted you, my doe,” the demon mumbled into your hair. 

Trying to distract your mind before it decided to focus on the adventure from this morning, you grabbed for Alastor’s lapels to pull him down and…

“Alastor, what’s in your coat pocket?” Your fingers met something hard and boxy. 

The demon ignored your question. Instead, from the Void, Alastor pulled a hair clip - a new one. The metal was red, and pointed, with a small “A” pressed into one of the tongs. 

“I had Carmilla make it,” the demon holds the clip between the two of you, pushing you back so you are no longer pressed so closely together.

Which greatly helped the nerves. 

The red was a perfect match to Alastor’s eyes. 

How intentional… 

“Thank you,” you reached for it, but he pulled away. 

The demon was distracting you, but you allowed it. Your nerves were shot anyway and Alastor felt… off…

“Allow me?” He offered. 

Turning towards the mirror above the dresser, Alastor flipped your hair into a bun, clipping it at the back of your head perfectly square with your shoulders. 

You stared at the demon’s reflection in the mirror, noting the lack of music playing on his radio, noting the loss of static in his voice. He was nervous… 

“Al, everything changes after today. This is where the Endgame plan truly begins.” You tested the waters to see if that was what was bugging him.

“Hmm,” the demon continued to inspect your hair, his mind clearly stuck on something else. Not Armageddon playing his thoughts?

“But,” you turned to him, your back leaning against the dresser. “If I know war, and I do, there is always a lull after a battle. Perhaps, if just for a few days, we get out of here?”

“Oh?”

“I have safe houses in every Ring of Hell and in a few major countries on Earth - including an emergency backup in Heaven if things end up truly terrible… I have an apartment…” God, why were you so nervous? “In France.” 

The demon’s eyes sparked. 

“It’s in Place de l'Estrapade, not a far walk from the Pont Neuf bridge, just across the way from Jardin du Luxembourg*. I know it’s not Louisiana, but… There’s this adorable bakery in the square that I know you will love and…”

The demon swallowed your words with his lips. “Mes valises sont déjà faites. My bags are already packed.”

Right, why did you ever think Alastor Hartfelt would turn down a trip to France? 

Alastor’s shoulder slacked just a bit.

Then it hit you.

It was the after that was bugging him. After the battle that is. He comforted you last night in regards to your qualms with the battle, but funny how facing imminent death felt like an everyday for the Overlord.

But the after made him nervous.

The after…

Fuck, you promised Angel you’d tell Al after.

Your stomach turned itself into knots and threatened to spill all over the carpet. How would you explain that one to the demon?

Fuck.

Did you tell him now that you and Angel went to Wrath? Tell him what happened? Your mouth watered bitterly at the thought that you were lying to him - you had promised no more lies - but were you truly lying? This was for his own good. This was for his protection. If anything happened to Al, it would be your fault.

Your fault.

YoUr FaUlT.

YOUR FAULT.

The air was suddenly sucked from the room.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“You lovebirds done shackin’ up o’ what?” Angel screamed from the other side of the wall. 

“Seriously?” Husk scoffed. “You called me up here for this?”

“What? Come on, Whiskers, you love spendin’ time with me,” Angel teased. 

You could practically hear the disbelief on Husk’s face through the door, “I thought you wanted me to help you bring something down, not hold your fuckin’ hand because you’re too scared of the Boss.”

“I ain’t scared of nothin’!” The spider demon protested. 

You smiled at Alastor, grateful for the spontaneous distraction. The demon pressed a kiss to your cheek and melted into shadow. 

Throwing the door open, both Husk and Angel jumped back in surprise before they realized it was just you. 

“Ha!” Angel crosses his arms. “See yous was scared, too!”

“I..!” Husk’s face turns red. “I was scared because she fuckin’ appeared outta nowhere, not because of…”

“Me,” Alastor melted from the floor, appearing behind the two of them. 

Angel jumped into you, grabbing onto your arm for support, while Husk remained utterly unphased. 

“Yeah, him,” the cat crossed his arms. 

You giggled at the sight of the two of them, the laughter breathing life back into your chest.

Just don't think about it... Yeah? Yeah! Don't think about it. Everything is going to be okay! It's fine. Everything is fine!

Taking a deep breath, you planted a smile on your face. “Come on, boys, we have an army to ready.”

You snuck a glance at Alastor, who looked distracted, wholly unaware of the nerves in your belly. Whatever was captivating him, you were thankful for it. It was quite uncharacteristic of him, but then again, you’ve never seen Alastor in the hours leading up to battle.

For whatever reason, you were disappointed in the last few remaining private moments you might possibly have with the demon. Not that you were expecting a big declaration of love from him.

Holy shit, you still hadn’t even told him you love him!

Oh, no, no, no, no.

You put the brakes on.

You’d been so distracted about this morning that you completely forgot about everything from last night! “Al, I need to talk to you-“

“There she is! There’s my little tomatuh!” Rosie had you in a hug so tight one would argue it was a chokehold.

“Rosie, dear! How delightful to see you!” Alastor pressed a kiss to the top of her hand. “Is that a new scarf? It looks astonishing on you darling, absolutely astonishing!”

The Overlord’s eyes shined like stars, “Oh! Al, stop! You flatter me.” Rosie ran a hand through her new purple boa.

“It isn’t flattery if it’s true!” Al came to stand beside you, his hands wrapped around the top of his cane.

The smell of the forest after rain calmed your nerves.

It’s okay. After. You can tell him after because there will be an after.

There will be an after.

Heading down the hall you ignored Angel's worried eyes on you. You ignored Alastor's shadow swirling about your feet with concern. And you ignored Husk's offer for a drink. For you had too many things to focus on right now...

A battle to win...

An identity to keep hidden...

A Human Sinner who still didn't know how you truly felt about him...

And a secret to keep...

Welcome to the Endgame.

____________________________________________

T-1 minute until the portal opens…

“This is it,” you press your forehead into Alastor’s. “Al, I -”

“Shh, my doe. Entre deux cœurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles,” and then the demon melted into shadow, to find his place atop the Hotel.

Goddamit, the demon switched between French and English so fast you couldn’t keep up half the time.

Charlie appeared next to you, a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll get a chance to tell him.”

You blinked. But how did she…?

“Uh,” Vaggie cut in. “I don’t mean to break up this moment, but we have Angels incoming.” The ex-Exorcist pointed her spear at the sky, where a large portal had cracked through the walls of reality.

Fixing your hood atop your head, you summoned your two short blades from the Void and readied yourself next to the Princess.

On the other side of the portal, you could make out the beautiful golden glow of Heaven. God, you did not miss it.

Two figures stepped through: Adam and Lute.

And then the onslaught began - but not before Alastor summoned his dark shield. The mass of magic covered the Hotel in a dome. Some of the Exorcists made it through, but the less fortunate ones bounced off in a wave of broken bones.

“It’s working!” Charlie screamed.

Until it wasn’t.

With a flick of Adam’s wrist the shield melted and then the exorcists fell through.

It was a dance of a battle. A beautiful pirouette of savagery and desperation, impregnating the air with the stench of golden iron.

You would have found yourself riding the high of battle had you not had Charlie to look after. Yes, Vaggie could well protect her on her own but it was the deal with Lilith that ensured no harm came to the princess.

As the princess shot sparkles you shot daggers. As she sang apologies you delivered death. Constantly you were forced to grab her by her wrist and twirl her from danger. It was hard work, one that captivated all of your attention.

Good. You needed the distraction.

BOOM!

Cherries’ explosions began, the next line of defense before the Exorcists reached Sir Pentious and his battery of cannons.

This was good! Things were looking good!

Fuck you might actually all make it out of this thing.

BAM!

The next thing you knew, you were on the ground, a pain so powerful ripping through your core it blinded every sense, every fiber of your being.

Green light exploded from the scar which cut you from neck to hip, a beacon of agony which temporarily halted the onslaught from Heaven as Human Sinners and Angels alike were forced to shield their eyes. The wall of light shot up into the atmosphere of Hell before dispersing into a rainstorm of sparks that fell upon the whole of Pentagram City.

You felt, rather than saw, hands upon you. The green had burned your retinas, completely blinding you. Your body healed fast, however, but not fast enough to clearly make out the fuzzy grey/red blob shaking your shoulders.

“Come on, kid! Come on! Don’t quit on me!”

The pain numbed your body, but your Angelic blood quickly fought against it. Your fingers and toes tingled as your mind reset itself over and over again. Where are you? What happened? The memory of pain threatened to spill as the ability to breathe found your lungs, as your eyes remembered how to blink.

“Holy Hell, what da fuck was that!?”

“I don’t fucking know, but both Boss and her went down at the same time.”

“What da fuck kind of Voodoo shit did he do ta ‘er?”

You forced your mind to clarity, forced the blurriness into - somewhat - sharper objects. A vague outline of Husk and Angel came into view, along with a background of Exorcist Angels flying overhead. The fighting had resumed despite the interruption.

“Husk?” You mumbled. Grabbing onto the cat’s paw, you slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position. Despite the pain which had surged through your scar, no wound was visible. You hadn’t been struck after all. “What…?”

There was a pull behind your navel - it was weak, oh-so weak.

Alarm bells immediately went off.

Alastor.

Without a thought, you shoved away from the cat demon and shot into the air, not caring that your wings were now on full display for the entire Angelic Army to view. Not caring that the hood Charlie helped make you was now shredded to pieces.

You hit the roof, landing practically on top of the red and black mass crumbled in a heap of blood. Using your black wings, you attempted to shield as much of Alastor as you could.

You couldn’t make out Alastor completely, your vision was still sluggish to return despite you willing your blood to heal as fast as it could, but you could feel him. You could feel his heart beating wildly, feel the pain with every breath, feel the one ounce of panic the Overlord allowed himself to feel in this moment as he watched you take up a defensive fighting stance over his prone form.

The demon was hurt and bad.

Like a panther protecting her wounded mate, you unleashed the full force of your power. Dark and twisted horns grew from your skull as you morphed into your demon form. A spiked tail uncurled from your backside, your fingernails sharpened into claws, and your fangs elongated to a point. The sclera of your eyes flashed black as the rune on your back was unlocked, the text from the Book of Knowledge melting into your hands, forming an exoskeleton of Newtonian fluid that flowed over your appendages.

As your vision healed, the Angel’s stupid helmet sharpened, a look of pure shock reflected in the metal. Adam had his guitar and Alastor’s blood was still fresh as it dripped off the blade.

“Don’t…” Alastor protested, but his sentence was cut off with a cough.

“Mikaela?” Adam’s jaw dropped.

Your only response was a low growl. Pure instinct had kicked in. You were more animal than Angel.

You felt the coldness of Rolf wrap around your ankle, but it was barely a whisper compared to how solid the shadow normally felt. The shadow tugged, threatening to whisk you away from the rooftop, but be it the weakening of Alastor’s magic or your stubbornness, you did not move.

“Holy shit, it is you! How you doing, sister?” The First Man smiled, lowering his sword.

Behind you, you could feel the blood flowing from Alastor’s chest as real and as solid as it would your own. It only added to the panic and anger and desperation you were feeling in this moment.

“Where’s Eve?” The Angel looked around as if the Second Woman might turn the corner at any moment and join the conversation.

“Dead,” you bore your teeth and growled, your voice laced with Alastor’s radio static.

“What?” Adam did a double-take.

You pulled your sword from the Void, your blue fire licking the steel’s surface as small green bouts of static danced its way down your arm and disappeared into the heat. “And you’re next,” you threatened, your voice filled with static.

“Wait,” Adam narrowed his eyes, his pupils darting back and forth between the two of you as he slowly put the pieces together. “Wait. Wait. Wait.” He put up a hand. “You’re defending this loser?”

You growled, your teeth itching to sink into flesh.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. A voice rang in the back of your head.

“Woah, there, sister. We’re on the same fucking team!” Adam had a look of pure terror on his face.

From your crouched position on the ground, you moved forward.

Adam immediately dropped his sword and began backing up. “Listen! Listen! Listen!” He stammered. “Let’s just take a fucking second and talk like bros. Okay?” His laugh was strained. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for why you’re down here defending the scum of existence? Ha, ha. Right?”

Kill him, the voice commanded.

You growled again and attempted to take another step forward, but a clawed hand wrapped around your tail and tugged. Finally, you turned to face Alastor and the sight knocked you out of your bloodthirsty trance.

The demon was pale, a deep gouge sliced right across his chest in an exact mirror image to your injury from Velvette. You felt the anger flee from you then, only to be replaced with pure terror. You met Alastor’s stern eye and the look he shot you stopped you dead in your tracks.

But it was already too late. All of Heaven had seen. Mikaela Morningstar was alive and well in Hell, defending Lucifer’s daughter in a battle against Heaven. You had killed Exorcists. A war was brewing, and you were a part of it.

The demon shuttered out a pained breath, one you felt reverberate through your own chest. You dropped your sword, the steel popping back into the Void before it even made contact with the ground. Falling to your knees before Alastor, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed a soft but shaky kiss to his forehead.

“What, the fuck?” Adam gawked behind you.

Every part of you was screaming to rip the Angel limb from limb, but you fought the instinct, and instead channeled that energy into the connection that had ripped open between you and Alastor. You let your magic flow through your inky fingers and into the demon, willing his heart to beat faster, to slow the blood seeping from his wounds, to staunch the pain in his chest.

Alastor’s eyes fluttered closed as he took a deep breath, already the color returning to his cheeks.

You turned to Adam then, your black sclera burning pure hatred into the Angel’s heart. “I won’t be the one to kill you today, Adam.”

“I am so fucking confused,” the Angel scratched his head.

“Adam!” Charlie appeared atop the rooftop, royally pissed as she hung from the Hotel sign.

And with that, you shadowed the two of you from the rooftop, landing in the only place you could think of to go right now: Alastor’s radio tower.

Atop the balcony, you pulled the clip from your hair and slit open your wrist, dripping a waterfall of golden blood into Alastor’s wounds.

“Stop,” the demon tried to shove your hand away, but he was too weak at this moment to do anything other than lay there and breathe.

Clenching your jaw shut, you didn’t let up until you watched the first stitches of skin begin to form. Jesus Christ, the wound was deep. It had cut through several ribs but, thankfully, had not nicked his heart. Alastor would have been dead before you had even landed on that rooftop had it gone any deeper.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! You knew! You fucking knew this was going to happen!

A tear fell from your cheek and landed in the mixture of black and gold liquid swirling atop the demon’s chest.

“Stop,” Alastor said more forcefully. The demon wrapped a hand around your wrist, the golden liquid bubbling through his fingers. He pulled you down into him and pressed his forehead into yours. “I’m alright, my doe.”

“This is my fault,” your voice cracked. Green static danced across your skin, your demon form still out in full force. Sucking in a breath, you forced yourself to your feet. Sinking your inky hands into your hair, you paced the floor, your wings dragging behind you.

Alastor’s magic jumped off your form in sparks. Which was impossible but you didn’t have the mental room to even consider why.

Alastor had almost died! He could’ve died! Adam almost killed him!

“My doe,” Alastor attempted to sit up, but the pain from the wound was too much, his body demanding every ounce of power to heal.

“My fault,” you shuttered. “My fault. My fault. My fault!” You bent over the handrail and threw up.

Alastor jumped to his feet then, one hand wrapped around his middle to stop his insides from spilling out. “Mikaela!”

Using his cane for support, the demon forced himself to stand next to you. His red irises bled into your soul, his brow crinkled with worry.

Your entire body was shaking as he wrapped his arms around you. “It was not your fault.”

“We almost lost you,” you mumbled into his coat jacket, drenched in blood.

“We?”

____________________________________________

Somewhere Else in Hell…

“Ha, ha,” Striker plucked the cigar from his mouth and tapped the lit end into the cement lining of the roof.

The imp pulled the rifle to his shoulder and aligned the scope with his eye. “Too easy.”

And pulled the trigger.

____________________________________________

You saw the bullet before you heard it.

BANG!

The metal object soared towards you as if in slow motion, the iconic swirls of Angelic Steel clearly coating its surface.

But the bullet meant for you did not hit its mark.

For Alastor shoved you at the last moment, appearing between you and the shooter.

Red irises met yours, “Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine…”

The bullet met its mark right between Alastor’s eyes.

Dying for love…

“Nooo!”

The demon went down, his cane smacking against the metal balcony in an explosion of green sparks.

You spun, immediately knowing where the bullet originated from. You didn’t care who or what was on the other end. Fuck you didn’t even care why.

Kill, the voice echoed as a blast of dark ink shot out from your hand. Like a wave of a tsunami, the mass collided with the building the shooter was perched atop of, taking out the top twenty floors. You swung down, collapsing the building in on itself in one fell swoop.

Whoever it was - plus the inhabitants of the building - were dead.

“Alastor!” You screamed as you collapsed onto the ground next to him. Dark blood pooled beneath his head. The wound between his eyes steamed with green as his magic desperately fought to heal.

But fought in vein.

You watched as Alastor’s eyes fogged with the veil of death.

“No! No! No!”

And felt his Soul fade from his body.

“Alastor!”

You screamed. You begged. You cried.

“Don’t!”

You even heard yourself begging with God to let him live.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me again!”

But you could do nothing as his Soul slipped from his body…

“No! Don’t! You can’t!”

… and faded from this world entirely.

“Don’t leave…”

Alastor was dead.

“Don’t leave us…”

____________________________________________

You don’t know how long you lay there.

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Years?

Long enough that Alastor had grown cold next to you. Long enough that the blood began to crust against your skin. Long enough that your joints hurt and your body begged to move.

He was gone.

Alastor was gone.

You curled into him, praying somehow your warmth might leech into him and warm his cold body back to life. Praying he’d brush a hand through your hair and tell you everything was going to be alright.

Praying this was just a dream.

Praying that you were the one dead instead.

Praying that you were both dead and this was some sick version of Purgatory Father had concocted for you as a punishment.

“Al…” You mumbled into his jacket, your fingers curling around his lapel as if he would fade beneath your touch entirely.

Too soon. Too fast.

And all your fault.

All your fault…

And then your fingers brushed something hard.

In his jacket, hidden away in a pocket you didn’t know he had, was a small leather box.

Fuck.

No. No. No. No. No.

Sitting up with alarm, you dropped it on the balcony and scooted away.

That better not be what you think it is.

Open it.

You jumped.

A young woman with hair as brown as mud and eyes to match sat across from you. Cross legged, arms folded neatly in her lap as her curls pooled down her back, the girl stared intently at the small leather box.

Open it, she repeated.

You didn’t respond, your mind was too preoccupied with trying to comprehend how this was happening.

It’s a ring, obviously, but you already knew that. You think that’s why he was so distracted today? She motioned to the blood. So distracted he didn’t even notice the fawn growing in your womb. How pathetic…

“Shut up!” You bit, your throat raw from years of crying.

Ouch. Is that anyway to greet an old friend? Oh, wait, sorry. Were we even friends? I mean, you did murder me and all. Did Alastor…

“I said, shut up, Eve!”

Her eyes found the box once more. Do you think he’s an emerald man or a diamond man? Emerald is more classic for the 30s but diamonds! Ugh, I’m just dying to know, aren’t you?

She went for the box, but you were faster. You held it against your heart, “Don’t touch it!”

Eve gasped, Is that why he asked you to take him to Louisiana to visit his Mother!? Awww, he stayed behind to tell his Mom about the ring. How sweet. Too bad she wasn’t actually there. - ya know, being in Heaven and all. But I suppose it’s the thought that counts.

“Why are you here?” The words seeped out from behind clenched teeth.

She smirked. Because you let me out.

You followed her eyes to your hand, still black from the ink. You never sealed the power away after desecrating the building.

Fuck, you were still in your demon form.

You’ve never let me out this long before. Figured it was time to stretch my legs and finally introduce myself. She stood and made her way to you, stretching her limbs as she went. Holding a hand out to you she made to help you stand.

Hello, I’m the Book of Knowledge, but you can call me Eve and we are going to have so much fun together.

You didn’t take her hand.

Your eyes found the dark jacket seeped in blood laying a few feet away.

You went to him, your fingers brushing the curls away from his face. With his eyes closed he looked as if he was sleeping - so peaceful.

Even in death Alastor smiled.

The girl frowned, clearly annoyed that you weren’t giving her your full undivided attention. What about power and chaos, and all that jazz? What about revenge!?

To power and chaos…

Your hand found your belly. “There is no power and chaos without him.” Pressing a kiss to his forehead. You whispered, “I love you, too.”

Wait, so that’s it? Eve threw her hands in the air. The plan is over? The big Endgame we’ve been planning for over one hundred years is just done!?

You stood, “New plan.”

New plan? Eve scrunched her nose. What new plan?

You smiled softly, the dark ink slowly invading your arm, “The one where everyone dies.”

Oh! Oh! Oh! I like that plan. Where do we start?

You turned to the pile of rubble 100 yards away. “Greed.”

*Yes, this is totally where Emily in Paris is shot lol

Annnnnnnd yet another cliff hanger. Come on guys you know me by now. Not everything is as it seems!

Hang in there :)

-> My Fawn & My Shadow: Epilogue

Tagged Hoteliers: (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526 @eris-norwega

@missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demon @sillywormtrixareforkids

@its-a-dam-blue-brick @cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @sawi1987 @mopeyghost

@beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah @diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta @reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages @chibistar45 @rapunzelbro

@stephydearestxo

[eevylynn]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @endwersed and @violetfairydust

This is from my fic for the Sterek Reverse Bang

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eventually, they found themselves way in the middle of a clearing, a cliff rising high on one side, providing at least one wall of protection from anyone stumbling upon them. A stream flowed along the opposite side, adding a peaceful ambiance to the area.

“Well, this is pretty,” Stiles said, turning in place to observe the clearing around him. “How did you find this place?”

“I used to come out here with my Cora, Laura, and our cousins,” Derek replied softly.

Stiles turned to give him a soft look, but he didn’t say anything because he knew Derek wouldn’t want to dwell on it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Stiles asked, swinging his arms nervously but trying not to look like he was actually nervous.

“First things first,” Derek began, “we need to find out how strong you actually are.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Stiles said.

“So, we know that when the Nogitsune had full control of your body, it was stronger than me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Stiles winced, memories of the Nogitsune tossing Derek like a ragdoll flashing in his mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek said firmly, dismissing Stiles’ concerns with a wave of his hand. “It wasn’t you.”

“We’re going to start with a warm up. What I want you to do first is climb that,” Derek said, pointing to the cliff that rose next to them. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to time you to see how fast you can climb up and then get back down.”

“What about you?” Stiles said. 

“I know how long it takes me,” Derek said simply.

“Well, I think you should climb with me,” Stiles said with a sly grin. “We’ll be able to compare better.”

“Stiles...”

“You just don’t want to face humiliating defeat if I beat you at this already,” Stiles taunted, his grin widening

Derek fought a smile, obviously debating internally whether or not he should give in. He shook his head with a sigh. “Fine,” he conceded, returning his phone back to his pocket. “Let’s get on with this.”

“And no jumping?” Stiles added quickly. “Just pure climbing, right?” He had seen how much the werewolves in his life took advantage of their ability to jump high and far.

“Just climbing,” Derek confirmed, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We’ll test your jumping later.”

They walked over to the cliff and discussed the best spots for both to climb, ensuring the challenge was as fair as possible. Once they were in position, Derek counted down.

“Ready. Set. Go!”

At Derek’s signal, they both grabbed a hold of the cliff wall and began climbing. Stiles was thrilled by how quickly he could identify the best handholds and footholds, his muscles working in perfect coordination to propel him upward. Glancing quickly to his left, he saw that he and Derek were neck and neck. The surge of confidence pushed him to climb faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling himself over the top.

Mere seconds later, Derek joined him at the top, and Stiles couldn’t help but cheer.

“Nice work,” Derek said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Stiles grinned widely, soaking in the rare praise. “So, what’s next?”

“Next, jump down,” Derek instructed calmly.

Stiles’ grin faltered. “Wait, jump?”

“Yes.”

“Jump…off the cliff?” Stiles asked, staring over the edge in disbelief.

“Yes, Stiles. Jump off of the cliff.”

“But…” Stiles hesitated, his brain short-circuiting as he looked down at the fifty-foot drop. “That’s over 50 feet.”

“Yes,” Derek confirmed, his tone unwavering. “And you can handle it.”

Stiles swallowed hard, nerves tingling in his gut. However, he trusted Derek, so he took a deep breath in and jumped, feeling the wind rush past him as he plummeted towards the ground.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Idk who hasn't done this yet, so I'm going to tag @hedwig221b @thotpuppy @rosieposiepuddingnpie and anyone else that wants to do it

[ntonlvr]

Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly 2

synopsis: anton and y/n spark a secretive affair together word count: 4k status: 2/? (trying to update 2 times a week) genre: non idol au, fem reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers content warning: explicit sexual content, blow jobs, oral (fem), fingering, slight nipple play, man idk how to tag sorry

As the door clicked shut behind Anton, you leaned against it, trying to calm your racing heart. The memory of his kiss still lingered on your lips, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. It felt surreal, but you couldn’t linger on it for long. Sohee would be back downstairs any minute. 

Sure enough, Sohee appeared at the top of the stairs, now dressed in his pajamas. “I was coming to help, but it looks like you and Anton did everything,” he said, glancing around. 

“You only went upstairs to avoid helping, so don’t even try to lie,” you scoffed, folding the blue blanket. 

“You two seemed to be having fun,” he remarked, completely unaware of the emotional storm you had just weathered.

“Yeah, it was a good time as always,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” Sohee said, plopping down on the couch. “But at least I got paid for a full shift.”

You nodded, your mind drifting back to Anton. “I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m going to head to bed,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Alright, goodnight,” Sohee called after you as you headed upstairs. 

Once in your room, you climbed into bed, your mind buzzing with thoughts of Anton. You couldn’t wait to talk to him again, to see where this new development would lead. As you lay there, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You reached for it, hoping it was a message from Anton. Sure enough, his name lit up the screen.

____________________________________________________________________________

Texting

anton: I can’t stop thinking about tonight. Can we talk?

y/n: absolutely. im still wide awake.

anton: Same here. I still can’t believe we kissed. How are you feeling?

y/n: honestly, my heart is still racing. i havent been able to stop smiling lowkey…

anton: Me too. I’m going to say something, but don’t judge me haha

y/n: judgment free zone

anton: I have wanted to kiss you for a while now.

y/n: really? because me too, i’m glad i finally did 

y/n: might i just add, i like the way your lips felt on me …

anton: Oh, I’m glad you think so. Maybe we should do it again.

y/n: god i wish i could have some of you right now. i wish we didn’t get interrupted …

anton: Trust me, I wish the same thing.

y/n: maybe we can just have a little fun now … 

anton: Mmm, tell me what you have in mind. 

y/n: i really want to feel your hands on me and your lips exploring every inch of me

anton: I want that too. I swear I can feel you right now. 

y/n: i would love to feel you right now, i barely got the chance earlier

y/n: i need you now… what if you snuck over tonight? sohee is playing video games downstairs

anton: My one question. Are we both on the same page about keeping whatever this is a secret. Until we figure out what it is we want?

y/n: yes, i agree. but pls can you hurry over. i’ll run down and unlock the door.

____________________________________________________________________________

As Anton read Y/N’s last message, a surge of desire coursed through him. He glanced around his room, heart pounding with anticipation. The idea of sneaking over to your place ignited a thrilling excitement within him, but he knew they needed to be cautious. 

Quickly, Anton grabbed his keys and silently crept down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped outside, leaving his car behind and opting to walk the short distance to your place. Every step felt charged, thoughts of your touch and their shared desires racing through his mind. 

Arriving at your doorstep, Anton took a moment to collect himself, his heart racing at the thought of your touch. The house was dimly lit, the silence broken by the faint hum of appliances and Sohee yelling at whatever game he was playing in the basement. Anton tiptoed through the hallway and up the stairs into your bedroom. 

After entering, Anton closes the door with deliberate care to dampen any noise from the latch. When he turns around, he finds you still in the oversized hoodie from earlier, now accompanied by a pair of light blue panties instead of the gray shorts. 

Anton had always been the shy type, reserved and cautious in his interactions with others. But with you, it was different. There was something about the way you looked at him, the way your eyes held a feeling of warmth that emboldened him like nothing else. Your presence alone seemed to dissolve the barrieres he usually kept around himself. 

Anton stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you in the low-lit room. The soft glow accentuated every curve he could see. His gaze lingered on you, a mix of desire and admiration evident in his eyes. Without a word, Anton crossed the room, swiftly taking off his shirt in the process. He reached out, his touch gentle yet determined, conveying a depth of emotion that words could not capture. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, sending a shiver down your spine as you pressed closer to him.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the heat building between you. His lips found yours, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since your last encounter. The kiss was hungry, passionate, filled with a longing that spoke volumes of unspoken desires and shared moments.

Anton’s lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” His voice, usually soft-spoken, carried a husky edge filled with some desperation.

Anton's hands roamed over your back, tracing the lines of your spine beneath the fabric of the hoodie. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through you, making your breath catch in your throat. Every caress, every touch seemed to deepen the connection between you, erasing any distance that had existed.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you whisper back, “Your hands feel so good, Anton.” your words hung in the air, as you traced patterns over his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles release under your touch. 

Anton’s hand caressed her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips. “I have wanted to kiss you like this for so long,” he admitted, his voice thick with longing. 

You smiled softly, eyes locking with his, “I’ve wanted this too,” you confessed, your voice above a whisper. You leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss, deeper and sloppier than before. Anton carries his touch under your hoodie and takes your breasts in hands, now carefully playing with your nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. You allow him better access to your body by taking off the hoodie, now exposed to the chill in the air. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, voiced with awe. He leaned in, this time pressing his kisses right on your chest. He takes in one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around. You arch into his touch, loving the way his gentle motion takes you over. His fingers dance along your sides, teasing the sensitive spots that make you gasp and moan in delight. 

With a sudden surge of boldness, you gently push Anton back onto the bed. He looks at you, eyes wide with surprise and lust. You smile, teasing a glint in your eyes. Your fingers trace the outline of his jaw, moving down his neck to his chest. You place soft, lingering kisses along the path where your fingers had been, feeling him tense and relax at your touch. You savor the way he reacts, the way his breath hitches and his body responds. 

You continue your journey downward, your kisses trailing from his chest to his abdomen. You can feel the heat of his skin, the way goosebumps appear as you leave wet kisses here and there. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pause, looking up at him with a mischievous smile. With just that look, Anton’s eyes darken with desire, lifting his hips to slide his pants down and kick them away. 

As you take in the sight of him, your breath catches in your throat. You had always found Anton attractive, but seeing him like this–completely exposed, eyes filled with hunger, muscles taut with anticipation–leaves you momentarily stunned. The way his chest rises and falls rapidly, the glisten of sweat forming in his skin, the intensity in his gaze… it’s almost too much to take in. The reality of having such a powerful effect on him hits you with a force that takes your breath away. “Wow” is all you can manage to say at that moment. 

Your eyes travel down, and when they reach his member, you’re taken aback by its size. Not truly getting to notice from your earlier encounter. You blink in surprise, a flush creeping up your cheeks. It’s larger than you expected, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to proceed. The sheer size of him is intimidating, yet only fuels your desire to pleasure him even more. 

As you move closer to his most sensitive areas, you take your time, savoring the taste and feel of him. You start by trailing gentle, wet kisses along the length of his shaft, feeling him throb under your lips. He lets out a low groan, the sound sending a thrill through you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty essence of his arousal, and his reaction is immediate–a sharp intake of breath, his hips twitching involuntarily. 

You wrap your hand around the base, feeling the thickness and heat of him. Slowly, you take him into your mouth, inch by inch, adjusting to his size. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, is intense. You hollow your cheeks and create a tight seal with your lips, moving down further, feeling him slide deeper into your throat. His hands find their way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, a gentle pressure guiding you but allowing you to maintain control.

You set a steady rhythm, your mouth moving up and down his length, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside. You vary the pressure and speed, taking him deep into your throat one moment and teasing his tip with light flicks of your tongue the next. His moans grow louder, his breaths more ragged, as you drive him closer to the edge. 

You glance up at him, locking eyes as you continue your attack. The look of pure pleasure on his face, the way his muscles tense and hips lift to meet your movements. You increase the intensity, taking him deeper, your hand working in tandem with your mouth.

His moans become more urgent, his grip on your hair tightening. When you sense he’s closer you pull back slightly, focusing on the head, your tongue swirling and lips sucking with increased fervor. His whole body shudders, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips. 

You pause for a moment, your hand still working him slowly, looking up at him with a playful yet serious expression. “Anton,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but filled with authority. “You need to be quiet.”

His eyes widen slightly, and he nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. You continue, this time more slowly, more sensually, your mouth working in perfect harmony with your hand. You maintain eye contact, watching as he bites his lip, trying to stifle his moans. 

You resume your rhythm, your mouth moving up and down his length with renewed determination. His body tenses and relaxes under your touch, his attempts to stay quiet adding an extra layer of intensity to the moment. You can see the effort he’s making to remain silent, his face contorted with pleasure and concentration. You feel his body shudder again, signaling his impending climax. You increase your pace, your tongue paying more attention to the tip, your hand stroking the rest of his member. His grip tightens in the sheets, and you can see the strain in his eyes as he tries to keep from crying out. 

When he finally releases, it’s with a muffled groan, his body convulsing with pleasure. You take in every drop, swallowing and continue to suck gently, milking him of every last bit of his release. As you lie there, you both breathing heavily, Anton looks you in your eyes, a mischievous smile now forming on his lips. “My turn,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with promise. Before you can respond, he rolls you onto your back, his hands exploring your body with a new purpose. 

His fingers trail down your sides, sending shivers through you. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Remember, we have to be quiet.” The huskiness in his voice makes your breath catch, the anticipation building within you. His mouth moves to your neck, placing soft, teasing kisses along your skin. You bite your lip, stifling a moan as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear. His hands roam over your curves, caressing and kneading your flesh with a gentle yet firm touch. 

He continues his journey downward, his kisses trailing from your neck to your collarbone, then lower to your breasts. Once again, his tongue flicks over one nipple while his hand massages the other one, the sensation making you arch into him. You struggle to keep your moans quiet, his touch so overwhelming, but so good. Opting for holding one of your hands over your mouth. Anton pauses, much like you had, looking up at you with a devilish grin. “You have to stay quiet,” he reminds you playfully, his voice barely above a whisper. The challenge in his eyes only makes you want him more. 

He returns to his actions, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down your abdomen. When he reaches your hips, he takes his time, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin there. Your hands grip the sheets, your body begins trembling as you wait for what he does next. You had purposely chosen your light blue panties, knowing it was Anton’s favorite color. Anton’s fingers brushed against the edge of your panties, and he looked up. “Mmm, light blue, huh? Trying to drive me even more crazy?” he teased, his voice low.

You let out a little laugh, cheeks flushing. “Maybe,” you murmured, your gaze locking with his.

His touch became more deliberate, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned closer. “Well, it’s working,” he whispered, his eyes hard with desire. His fingers brushed against your panties, and he smirked. “God, you’re so wet for me already,” he says in a breathy tone. He let his fingers press gently against the damp fabric, feeling the heat emanating from you. “I can feel how much you want this,” he added, his tone laced with excitement. When his lips finally meet your core, a soft gasp escapes your lips. His tongue flicks out gently, exploring your folds with tender curiosity. You arch your back, a quiet moan slipping past your lips as pleasure courses through you. 

Anton’s movements are deliberate and skilled, something you didn’t know until this very moment. His tongue tracing patterns that make your toes curl. He finds your clit, circling it with gentle pressure, and you bite your lip to mute a louder response. His fingers join in, gently parting your folds to expose your most sensitive spots. He dips a finger inside you, his touch sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

You squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations he evokes. Anton’s pace quickens slightly, his ministrations driving you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, trying desperately to maintain composure as pleasure builds within you. 

As you near the peak, Anton’s tongue becomes insistent, his fingers working in tandem to bring you to the brink. You struggle to keep your breathing steady, the need to stay quiet intensifying the pleasure. 

Finally, you can’t hold back any longer. With a soft cry that echoes into a stifled whimper, you release over Anton’s fingers, waves of ecstasy washing over you. Anton continues his gentle assault, prolonging your pleasure until you finally relax into your bed. His touch is gentle yet firm as he kisses your inner thigh, then comes up to capture your lips. You respond eagerly, pulling him closer as your hands slide up his back, feeling the tension in his muscles under your touch.

As you both lie together, catching your breath after the intensity of your passion, a thought crosses your mind. You shift slightly, breaking the silence in the room.

“Anton,” you mumble softly, your fingers tracing light patterns on his chest, “do you have a condom?”

Anton meets your gaze with a warm smile, his eyes hooded but still gleaming. He nods and reaches for his tossed pants, retrieving the condom. “Yes,” he replies in a low, reassuring voice, “I came prepared.” he breathes out. Feeling his hardness against you, you instinctively press closer, craving more of his warmth and closeness. The intensity of your mutual desire pulses between you, palpable in every touch, every caress. Anton’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips find yours in a hungry kiss. 

“I want you,” Anton murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with longing and urgency. His confession stirs a response in you, a deep yearning that matches his own. You reciprocate eagerly, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, pouring all your passion into that moment.

“Anton,” you whisper, breathlessly, “I’ve been wanting this…wanting you.” As he rolls on the condom with practiced ease, his eyes never leave yours, filled with lust and reverence. You feel his hardness against you, a tangible reminder of his attraction to you. 

“Y/N,” Anton breathes against your ear, his voice thick with need, “Are you sure?” 

You met his gaze with unwavering intensity, your own desire burning brightly. “Yes,” you tell him, your voice tinged with anticipation and longing. “I’m begging you.”

A low growl escapes Anton’s throat at your words, his own yearning mirroring yours. With a swift movement, Anton positions himself above you, his gaze locked in with yours as he enters you slowly. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock. The sensation of his sizable member filling you up completely sends a rush of pleasure throughout your body. 

You gasp at the intensity of the feeling, arching into him, yearning for more of his touch, more of the overwhelming ecstasy only he can bring. Anton’s movements are deliberate and controlled, each thrust drawing a moan from your lips. “Y/N,” he breathes against your skin, his voice rough, “you feel so good.”

But then, unexpectedly, he changes his rhythm. Instead of deep and penetrating thrusts, Anton begins to move shallow, teasing strokes. Each shallow thrust grazes against your most sensitive spots, sending electric currents of pleasure through you. Your breath hitches as this new sensation overwhelms you, and you find yourself gasping for me.

The teasing trusts drive you wild, making your body tremble with need. “Anton, please,” you whimper, your voice shaky with desire.

He smirks against your neck, enjoying the effect he has on you. “You want more?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into his skin. “Harder, please.” 

Anton’s restraints snaps at your plea. He adjusts his position and begins to pound into you with a powerful, relentless pace. Each movement is intense, his hips slamming against yours with a force that makes you cry out in pleasure. The feeling of him driving into you, hard and deep, sends waves of ecstasy crashing through you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

Anton’s hands roam your body, exploring every curve and eliciting shivers of pleasure. His touch firm yet tender, heightening the senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of lust and longing. Desperate for more contact, you whimper softly, your voice thick with need, “Anton, please, touch me.”

With one hand steadying himself beside you, his other hand slides down your body, fingers finding your sensitive bud. He circles it slowly at first, teasingly, before applying just the right amount of pressure and speed that has you arching into him with a cry of pleasure. 

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice trembling, “right there, please don’t stop.” 

Anton’s grin is both wicked and tender as he watches your reactions, his own desire evident in the controlled urgency of his actions. “You look so beautiful when you beg,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. As the tension builds, Anton’s breathing becomes heavier, and his movements become sloppier. You can feel him starting to tremble, his control slipping as he nears his own climax. “Y/N,” he groans, his voice raw and filled with need, “I’m so close.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, your voice laced with anticipation. Your word spur him on, and with a final, deep thrust, Anton comes undone, his body shuddering with the force of his release. His moan of pleasure raw and primal, his eyes squeezing shut as he surrenders to the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy. The sight and the sound of him losing control sends a rush of heat through you, pushing you closer to your own edge. 

As Anton’s climax subsides, his fingers on your clit maintain their motion, the pressure and speed perfect for driving you over the edge. “I want to see you let go,” he tells you. His words are the final push you need. Your body arches up, and you cry out his name as your orgasm takes over you, each wave more intense than the last. Anton watches you, his eyes filled with admiration, his hand stopping until you are completely spent. 

As the final tremors of your climax fade, you collapse back onto the bed, your breathing heavy and uneven. Anthon gently pulls you into his arms, his touch tender and reassuring. “That was incredible,” he says in a hushed tone. 

You smile up at him, “It really was,” you agree, your voice still breathless. For a moment, you both lie there in the quiet, the intensity of the moment slowly giving way to a warm, comforting afterglow. Anton’s fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling content and safe in his embrace. 

Finally, Anton breaks the silence, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. “Y/N, I like that we’re keeping this a secret for now, just to see what we really want.”

You nod, understanding the importance of this discretion. “I agree,” you say, your eyes meeting his. “But whatever this is, I’m glad we’re doing.”

Anton smiles, his eyes shining with affection. “Me too,” he says, pulling you closer.“ The room is filled with a comfortable silence, only the sound of your breathing and occasional creak if the house settles around you. Eventually, Anton shifts slightly, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t want this to end, but I should probably go before Sohee comes upstairs.”

“You’re right,” you say softly. With one last lingering touch, Anton slips out of bed and begins to gather his clothes. As he dresses, you can’t help but stare at his body, still in awe at how good he looks. Anton pauses at the door, glancing back at you with a smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Anton,” you reply, your heart full as you watch him leave. The door closes softly behind him, and you lie back on the bed, a contented smile on your face. 

[the-wize-1]

Thawing the Widow (A Natasha Romanoff Story): Chapter 6 - Frozen Peas

Chapter Summary: Cat's plan kind of fails (is anyone surprised?)... but it also works out? Things happen and she’s reunited with a certain redheaded assassin.

Chapter Warnings: Talking about a mugging, playful threatening with a knife. This is and will be minor friendly! No smut in this story.

Notes: Nat returns this chapter! But this isn’t the last we see of Peter! Thank you to everyone who reblogged/commented/read so far! Getting notifications really encourages me and I enjoy each and everyone one of them. New chapters will come Monday/Thursday 5PM PST (I’m on time FINALLY). Also idk if I should make a tag list but if so lmk who’s interested! Happy reading!

Thawing the Widow Masterlist

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"That was awesome!" Cat breathed as Spider-Man dropped her and Taco back on the ground. Her heart was still beating fast from the exhilaration. Swinging around New York was similar to riding a roller coaster, albeit a faster, steeper, more dangerous one with significantly less elbow room.

Spider-Man looked around the abandoned streets warily. "Um… are you sure this is where you wanted me to drop you off?"

Cat made sure she had the right dark alley. Granted, all the dark alleys looked generally the same in New York, but she had a great mind for directions. And she was pretty sure she was at the right place. If she squinted, she could spot a few familiar landmarks. And… there! If she could get a little closer, she could just make out the sliver of the door on the side of the wall.

The door of the safehouse.

"This is the one," she confirmed.

"If you're sure," he said. "Is there anything I can do to help? I don't think I have any cash on me— wait—" He awkwardly patted himself down for cash, even though Cat couldn't see how any pockets could possibly be hidden in the folds of his spandex. "Yeah, no cash. Sorry."

Cat suddenly had an idea. "Can I have your autograph?"

"What?"

"You know, to sell it," she said unremorsefully. "It might help me make some money. Sorry if that's offensive. I need everything I can get right now."

"Oh, that's really smart. I didn't even think of that. I don't have any paper, do you?"

Cat rummaged around in her backpack. She had a few souvenirs, a mug that was only a little cracked, some pieces of cardboard, and an I-Heart-New-York sweatshirt that was slightly too large for her. Lastly, she pulled out an extra thick sharpie. She'd gotten most of the items in the soup kitchen cupboards, or at homeless shelters.

Spider-Man quickly scribbled his signature on all of them, leaving little sweet but unnecessary notes. "Here you go."

"I'm really grateful for this," she told him.

Before handing the sharpie back, he paused. He stared at her for a long time. "Are you going to be okay?"

She glared at him. "Of course I am!" she said indignantly. "I'm tough, you know."

"I know. You're pretty neat, Cat."

"You're not so bad yourself, Spider-Man."

He awkwardly placed his hand on her shoulder, then removed it almost instantly. "Well, just know that if you're ever in trouble, I'll always be around. Just… scream for help, or something." He patted Taco on the head. "Bye, cute beagle." He shot a web up into a ledge of a building. He made a peace sign at her as he yanked himself into the air. "See ya, Cat!"

"Bye!" Cat called after him as he swung out of view.

I'll be okay, she thought.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

She was so not going to be okay.

"Damn," she swore under her breath, jamming her knife in the lock for the eighth time in the dim hopes that it would work that time.

Cat dug it in harder, twisting and turning every which way. She was waiting for the telltale clicks and shifts, but they didn't come. Instead, the knife was met with a stubborn wall that blocked it from moving in further. She'd been there for at least ten minutes, with a sinking heart. They'd changed the locks.

"Damn it!"

Taco barked. Cat liked to imagine she was sharing her frustration.

Frustrated and disappointed, Cat gave up. Plan A was a no-go. She'd have to find somewhere else to sleep. Which actually really sucked, because it was freezing. The wind was blowing with a frigid ferocity that night. She tried to yank the knife out of the lock, but it was stuck.

She swore again, tugging at the knife, but it stayed stubbornly stuck. Her grip slipped and she fell backwards onto the ground, landing hard. Oww. She groaned. Taco jumped up and padded over to her, licking her face.

Despite Taco being adorable as always, Cat was miserable. Her hands and face were numb with cold. She could hardly feel her fingertips. She was shivering in her feeble, tightly stretched coat and thin leggings that offered no protection from the cold. She'd been looking forward to the warm, welcoming safehouse, but now even that wasn't an option. The good thing was, the cold did a good job of numbing the pain on her face and ribs. She had long gotten used to the throb of pain.

Cat got to her feet, shaking with exhaustion. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. Her eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth. Whether she was getting into the safehouse or not, she sure as hell was getting her knife back.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to generate some warmth into them. She wrapped her hands around the hilt of the knife, and raised her left foot to a position over the lock. Taco watched her with a perplexed expression, as if asking her what the hell she thought she was doing. Pushing off of her left foot, leaning sideways, she tugged at the knife as hard as she could.

The knife came loose. Cat couldn't regain her balance quickly enough, so she went flying backwards, slamming into the opposite wall with a sickening crash. She collapsed to the floor with a heap. For a moment, Cat laid there, breathing hard, and felt impossibly tired. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to fall asleep right there…

Then, she heard something moving behind the door. With a grunt of pain, Cat forced herself to her feet. She held her knife to her side, the slightest sliver of hope in her heart.

The door groaned open.

"You're making an awful lot of noise," Natasha said.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Natasha didn't say a word as she led Cat into the living room, and gestured to the table. Cat took a seat and watched as Natasha took out a bag of dog food from one of the cabinets and poured it into a bowl for Taco. Taco leapt on it eagerly.

"Do you have a dog?" Cat asked out of curiosity.

"No."

"Why do you have dog food?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

Cat took that as a good enough answer. Natasha wordlessly passed her a box of Chinese takeout. The smell of it had been filling up the kitchen. Cat dug in the moment she had it in her hands, feeling impossibly luckier and happier than she had in weeks. She ate like she was starving— probably because she was.

Natasha was silent, watching her as she devoured the takeout. Once Cat had eaten almost half of it, she gently tugged it out of Cat's hands.

"Sorry," Cat said immediately, scooting back in her chair. "I didn't mean to eat so much, I just—"

"Relax," Natasha said. "I'll give it back. You don't want to eat too fast or too much, or you'll throw up."

"Right." Cat took a deep breath. "Thanks."

"Here."

Natasha passed her a mug of steaming brown liquid. For a moment, Cat got excited, thinking it was coffee. When she took a sip and the taste of hot chocolate slammed into her, she wasn't too disappointed. It was surprisingly good. She was mostly glad Natasha had decided to let her in at all.

Cat wrapped her hands around the mug, trying to let the warmth of the room envelope her in its embrace. She relished in the moment, having a warm place to stay, food, and water. She shivered, remembering that it was only temporary and soon she'd have to be back out in the streets.

Cat couldn't take the silence. "Do you live here?" she asked.

"Sometimes," she answered vaguely.

"How did you know I was outside?"

"Like I said, you were making a lot of noise. I didn't think that was possible, considering those walls are about two feet thick."

"You changed your locks," Cat said resentfully.

"It's called a safehouse for a reason," Natasha pointed out. "What would be the point if persistent little orphans like you could break in?"

"I didn't think anyone would be inside."

"And that makes it okay?" Natasha asked pointedly.

"Um… no," Cat said, trying to sound remorseful. "Sorry."

Another bout of silence passed. Cat was trying to think of a way to ask for the takeout back. Her hunger was still rearing its little ugly head inside of her. But Natasha was holding the box just out of arm's reach.

"What happened to your face?"

"Nothing."

"I said, what happened to your face?" Natasha asked again, this time with an edge to her voice. Her eyes had narrowed.

"And I said," Cat fired back, "nothing."

"I gave you food," Natasha pointed out. Cat eyed the takeout box. "I could've left you out there in the cold. The least you could do is give me a straight answer."

Cat bit her lip. That was true. What would be the harm in telling her? Her stomach whined, yearning for the takeout. Still, some part of her didn't want Natasha to know. She stayed silent.

Natasha sensed the shift in her silence. She pushed the takeout box toward Cat, just a little. Cat reached for it, but then Natasha pulled it away. Cat looked up at Natasha with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. No food?

"Answer the question, and you can have it."

Cat scoffed. "That's not going to work on me."

"We'll see," Natasha said with an infuriating amount of certainty.

Cat worked her jaw. She crossed her arms and leaned back, defiant. Natasha stared back with an equal amount of fierceness. Cat's stomach growled painfully. It was loud enough so that even Natasha heard. She raised her eyebrows. Then, the smell of the takeout got to Cat.

"I tripped."

"You tripped."

"Yes."

"Try again."

"Fine. I got mugged." Cat lunged for the takeout box.

Natasha held it just out of reach, again. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

"Who mugged you?"

"How do you expect me to know? They weren't keen on doing icebreakers, and there wasn't enough time for me to run a facial recognition program."

"What did they want?"

Cat crossed her arms. "I thought you said I only had to answer one question. This seems like a lot more than one."

Natasha passed the takeout box to her. Cat started eating with a fervor. She was starting to feel a little full, but too full was better than too empty. She'd learned on the streets that she never knew when her next meal was going to be. If overeating to the point of throwing up meant she could spend another night without starving, that was what she was going to do.

Natasha got up and left, then came back with a first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas. She watched Cat wolf down the food with a horrified fascination.

"Slow down. You're scaring me."

Cat made a show of chewing for a long time before swallowing. The food in the takeout box was almost gone. She polished off the last bit, feeling satisfied for the first time in weeks. She started on the hot chocolate next, tipping the mug over until the last drop fell into her mouth.

Finally, she settled back into the chair with a sigh.

Natasha passed her the bag of frozen peas.

Cat stared at the bag of frozen peas. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Put it on your face, idiot."

Cat pressed it to the bruise on her face. She winced. "Ow."

"Don't be a baby. So, what did the muggers want?" Natasha repeated.

Cat sighed, long and drawn-out. Natasha had been awfully nice to her. She was lucky to be in a warm room with hot chocolate and takeout instead of shivering out in the cold. The least she could do was provide her with a little information.

"Money. They saw me give, like, twenty dollars to this Girl Scout, but it was pretty much the last of it. I kept telling them I didn't have any more, but you'd be surprised at how dumb they are."

"I'm not. How did you get away?"

Cat grinned. "Oh, funny story, actually. You know that guy, Spider-Man?"

"Sure. We've met a few times."

Cat gaped at her for a moment, having forgotten that Natasha was the Black Widow. She probably had met Spider-Man before. "You have?"

Natasha shrugged. "He's a good fighter. He's a bit of a talker, but a decent guy. We didn't really do the whole 'getting to know you' thing. We were mostly focused on trying to beat the crap out of Steve and his groupies."

Steve… Cat thought. Who was Captain America. Natasha was on a first name basis with Captain America— obviously— which was so cool.

"Yeah, anyway, Spider-Man swooped in and beat up all the muggers and stuck them on the wall. Then he swung me here. I asked him to autograph all my stuff so I could sell it."

"Hmm." Natasha moved the bag of peas from Cat's eye to see the bruise. "How hurt are you?"

Cat's ribs were aching, but she knew they weren't broken. Maybe bruised. It was mostly her face that was hurting, but the frozen peas had done a good job of numbing the area. "I'm fine. My ribs hurt a little, but—"

Without warning, Natasha reached out and prodded her side. Cat yelped, more shock than hurt, and thrust her hands up in front of her to defend herself.

"Jesus! Could you warn me before you do that?"

"Where does it hurt?" Natasha asked unapologetically.

"Just… like, around here."

Cat stayed stiff as Natasha pressed lightly against her ribs, examining them. "They're just bruised," she told her.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"You know, I could've told you that if you'd just asked instead of prodding me like some kind of lab rat."

Natasha straightened, looking her in the eye. She had an unnerving habit of doing that. Her piercing eyes were impossible to avoid. "So, tell me. What's your plan?"

"My plan?" Cat echoed.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Yes. Your plan for living on the streets, finding a job, feeding yourself, making sure you don't die. Unless you don't have one?"

"Of course I have a plan," Cat said, not wanting to admit that she did not, in fact, have any sort of plan. "I'm going to go to homeless shelters and the soup kitchens to get food. And I'm going to get a lot of canned food from pretending to be a Girl Scout. And I'll learn everything I need to know in the library— Don't make that face!"

Natasha's smirk reverted into a suspiciously convincing blank expression. "What face?"

"Like you think I'm some silly little kid who has no idea what she's doing. I'm really good at memorizing things. I could learn everything I need to learn in the library— You're making the face again!"

The second time, Natasha didn't bother to disguise her skepticism. "Yeah, because it's a crappy plan."

"It's not a crappy plan."

"Really? Then why'd you end up here, of all places?"

"Because I—"

"—had nowhere else to go?" Natasha finished.

She took Cat's sulky silence as an affirmation and plowed on.

"You don't have a consistent source of income. How do you expect to pay for things like new clothes, necessities, or literally anything you need to survive? You're also an easy target because you're young and you barely know how to defend yourself. You got mugged, which I promise will not be the worst situation you'll find yourself in, and you only just scraped by."

"I can defend myself," Cat protested. She thought she did a rather good job of fending herself off against the muggers, considering the circumstances. "I have a knife!" She grabbed it from the pocket of her jacket and pointed it at Natasha.

What happened next Cat almost couldn't explain in words. It happened so quickly. In one swift motion, Natasha lunged over the table and did something weird and uncomfortable with her arm, twisting and maneuvering it forcefully so that Cat's shoulder slammed down on the table. Cat glanced up, straining her neck, to see that the knife had made its way into Natasha's grip. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Cat could've blinked and missed it.

"What… the hell," she breathed. Also, ow. Her shoulder.

Natasha released her. Cat grabbed her shoulder, wincing. "Just because you have a knife doesn't mean you can defend yourself." She examined the knife distastefully. "This a kitchen knife."

"That wasn't fair," Cat grumbled. "You're the Black Widow. I stood no chance."

"So? You think a bunch of muggers are gonna go easy on you just because you're a little homeless girl? Haven't you've already learned that?"

Cat crossed her arms. "Okay, I get it. My plan is a crappy plan. It's not like you have a better one."

"Of course I do. I'll take you there myself."

All at once, alarm raced through her. Cat's feet slammed onto the ground. She pushed the chair away from the table with a loud screech and stood up. "You're not taking me to CPS."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I'm not. Sit down."

Cat lowered herself back in the chair cautiously. "Then where are you going to take me?"

"I own an apartment not far away from here. I barely use it, so you could crash there for the time being."

For several moments, Cat couldn't speak. "W-what?"

"What is it with you and making me repeat myself twice?" Natasha groused. "Did you not hear the first time?"

"I heard," Cat snapped, recovering quickly. "Does it have heating?"

"Yes."

"And a plumbing system?"

"Yes."

"And coffee?"

Natasha frowned. "Of course."

"And Fruit Loops?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I could get some Fruit Loops," Natasha offered.

"Thank you," Cat mumbled, staring into the distance. This was impossible, right? There was no way something this good could happen to her. Her attention snapped back to Natasha, who was still staring at her.

"Why are you helping me?" Cat demanded. "This isn't a trick, is it?"

"Are you always this paranoid?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Fair enough," Natasha admitted. "But you just have to trust me."

"I don't trust anyone," Cat said.

Something changed in Natasha's expression. Her eyes were faraway, looking into the distance. "You remind me of myself," she said. "I didn't want to rely on anyone either. But sometimes it's better to have people around you, people who are going to catch you when you fall."

Cat thought it was a bunch of bull. The more people she trusted, the more likely they could hurt or betray her.

"Anyway," Natasha continued briskly, abandoning her dreamy-eyed gaze, "you don't have any other choice. You can choose to go back in the streets and inevitably end up starving, poor, and out of options. Or, you could come with me."

"You promise you won't call CPS?"

"Sure."

That wasn't convincing enough for Cat. "I don't believe you."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "What, you want me to swear on a blood oath or something?"

That gave Cat an idea. She stuck out her pinky finger. "Pinky promise."

Natasha looked down at it. "This is hardly a legally binding contract."

"Pinky promise," Cat insisted. "The most unbreakable of promises."

Natasha linked her pinky with Cat's.

Cat nodded importantly. "The deed is done."

Natasha shook her head, bemused. "You're ridiculous."

Cat got to her feet. "So when are we leaving?"

"Slow down there, Turbo." Natasha got up as well and led her to the couch. Taco had noticed and followed them. "You look like you're about to kneel over. When was the last time you slept?"

When was the last time she'd slept? She honestly couldn't remember. "I don't know."

"Sleep first. Then we'll go."

"Okay," Cat agreed, too tired to argue. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and everything hurt. She just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. She laid down on the couch, resting her head on the arm rest. Taco jumped up and laid on her chest. It was a lot more comfortable than the chair she'd been tied to the first time she'd been here.

"Hey," she said with her eyes closed.

Natasha's voice came from a little to her left. "What?"

"Can you teach me how you did that knife thing?"

Cat didn't hear Natasha's response, because she was already drifting off to sleep.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Notes: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! Also my asks are open so feel free to drop anything there too!