#that's distance glasses for the road but readers for the screen

[noira-l]

𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Beneath the rain’s steady rhythm, you cross paths with a stranger, sharing an umbrella on a quiet, forested road. What begins as a fleeting act of kindness unfolds into an unexpected connection, leaving questions and longing lingering like the rain-soaked air. Will you meet again?

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛��𝚗𝚐 — teacher!geto suguru x afab reader

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 — fluff

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 — teacher au, polite and gentle Suguru, shy reader, adorable reassuring dynamic, losts of blushing from reader, walking hand-in-hand, Suguru is a true gentleman, Satoru makes an brief appearance at the end.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 5,9 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — One of my favourite texts, I see the potential to write a part two, let me know what you think and if you like it c:

𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 — september - sparky deatcap

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The rain had been falling in torrents since late afternoon, a warm deluge that soaked the earth and wrapped the air in the scent of wet leaves and damp soil. It was almost the end of summer, that fleeting stretch of warmth before the world cooled and grew crisp. You held onto the net of small purchases, pressing them close to your side.

Your sandals squelched against the wet asphalt, water seeping through with each step, though you hardly minded anymore. It was too late to avoid the inevitable, and there was a sort of childish thrill in the way the rain drenched you, despite the protection of your transparent umbrella.

The umbrella itself was a delicate thing, clear plastic that mirrored the drops of rain as they slid down its surface, catching the muted gray light of the cloudy sky. You tilted it slightly to better see the road ahead.

Around you, the world was hushed, softened by the rain. The desolate fields you had passed earlier were now behind you, the tall grass bending under the weight of the downpour. The trees of the forest loomed up ahead, dark and dense, the kind of green that seemed almost black when wet. Their leaves glittered with moisture, heavy with rain that dripped in a rhythmic patter to the forest floor.

Your village was still far off, a small cluster of houses tucked away from the busier parts of the world. It always felt like another century back there, with its narrow lanes and low stone walls.

Your friend had been kind enough to drop you off to work in the morning, but their day had gone another way, leaving you to make the journey home on foot. You didn’t mind too much; there was something oddly peaceful about being alone with the rain, even if your calves would ache by the time you made it back.

The forest stretched on, its canopy forming a natural tunnel that swallowed the sound of your footsteps. The air was warm, almost muggy, but the rain kept it fresh, a relief against your skin. You could hear the distant gurgle of a stream somewhere, the kind of noise that made you want to linger, to breathe it all in. But your arms were growing tired from carrying your bag of purchases, and you quickened your pace slightly, already looking forward to dry socks and tea.

Just ahead, a bus stop stood at the side of the road. It was a modest thing, little more than a metal frame with a roof and a bench, its glass walls speckled with droplets that caught the light like tiny jewels. You recognized it immediately as one of the few stops along your route, though the buses never came often enough to rely on them.

From a distance, the figure standing under the shelter’s roof was striking - a tall man with long, raven-black hair, though one strand of hair spilled to the side, framing his face. He wore dark clothes that resembled some sort of uniform, their edges dampened by the rain, though he seemed largely unbothered by it, his sharp eyes focused on the phone he held in one hand.

The glow of the screen cast a faint light on his face, accentuating his features. He didn’t look up as you drew closer, too absorbed in whatever he was reading or typing.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell him.

It felt like an awkward thing to point out - that the nearest bus wouldn’t arrive for another two hours. You knew this, of course; you’d lived here all your life, and the unreliable bus schedule was just part of the routine. But there was something about him, this stranger standing so composed in the rain, that made you reluctant to correct him. You didn’t want to come off as rude or condescending, even though he looked far too poised to be ruffled by something so trivial.

With slow, deliberate steps, you moved closer, finally able to get a proper look at the stranger’s face. And then you stopped, caught entirely off guard.

He was beautiful - stunning, even.

His features were sharp but balanced, his skin pale against the wet strands of dark hair framing his face. There was an elegance about him, the kind you’d only ever read about in books, a kind of beauty that seemed out of place in a bus stop on a rainy day in the middle of nowhere.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze, suddenly unsure of yourself. It wasn’t just admiration that stopped you - it was the feeling that he might notice. And he did. The stranger raised his gaze, meeting yours with piercing eyes that made your stomach flip.

You felt as though you’d been caught in the act of something, though you couldn’t quite say what.

"Excuse me…" you began, your voice unsteady, the words slipping out before you could overthink them "From this stop, the next bus will only leave in two hours."

You saw his expression change, his face hardening for just a moment before he glanced at his phone. A flicker of realization crossed his features, followed by the subtle tightening of his jaw. Two hours. You watched him absorb the information, weighing it in the way one might consider an unexpected puzzle piece.

"Which destination are you trying to go to, sir?" you asked tentatively, hoping to soften the atmosphere.

The stranger shifted slightly, his posture still composed, his voice was calm, almost melodic when he replied.

"I was supposed to have transport arranged..." he said, his tone polite and precise "...but it didn’t show up. I’ve been walking this way for a while, trying to get to the nearest railway station." he glanced out at the rain, a resigned smile touching his lips "For now, I’ll just wait until the rain lets up."

Okey, so no formalities.

You bit the inside of your cheek, a twinge of pity blooming in your chest. Maybe it was the tiredness in his eyes, or maybe it was the strange comfort his voice seemed to offer, but something about him made you want to help. You felt yourself faltering, unsure if it was compassion or simply the pull of his presence that made you act.

Taking a small step forward, you hesitated again before speaking.

"I-I would give you my umbrella if I could.." you said shyly, stumbling over the words "but…I could share it with you instead, i-if you’d like. I’m walking that way, anyway." your voice was barely above the rain’s patter, and you glanced up at him nervously, your heart pounding as you waited for his response.

The stranger raised an eyebrow in surprise, his sharp features softening as a smile spread across his face. It wasn’t just any smile - it was warm, affectionate, the kind that could melt away the weight of the rain.

"That’s very kind of you." he said gently, his voice carrying a note of sincere gratitude "But are you sure? I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

You nodded quickly, almost stumbling over your own reply "It’s not a problem at all." you said, your cheeks heating despite the cool rain.

He stepped closer then, the movement calm and deliberate.

"May I hold the umbrella?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with the kind of humor that made you feel at ease.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his earnestness. Then, in a burst of nervous laughter, you blurted out "This isn’t some elaborate plan to steal it, is it?"

He chuckled in response, the sound rich and unhurried, with a warmth that made your heart skip "I promise you, I’m not that desperate. Though I must admit, it’s quite a fine umbrella."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, a little more freely this time "All right." you said, handing it over "No running off with it, right?"

His smile widened, and he inclined his head in mock solemnity "You have my word."

As he took the umbrella from you, he glanced at the bag in your hand "That looks heavy." he said, his tone still gentle "May I carry it for you? It’s the least I can do."

You blinked, surprised by his offer "Y-you don’t have to." you said quickly, though the weight of the bag was starting to bite into your shoulder.

"I’d like to." he replied softly, his voice full of tact and patience. He met your gaze with an earnestness that left you speechless for a moment "Let me repay your kindness in some way."

Before you could overthink it, you handed him the bag, watching as he slung it over his shoulder with ease. He took the umbrella from your hand as well, holding it high enough to shield you both.

"Thank you." you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush again.

He smiled down at you, his presence at once intimidating and comforting "It’s the least I can do."

You fell into step beside him, careful to keep your hands close to your chest to avoid brushing against him by accident. The umbrella bobbed slightly as you walked, its surface dappled with countless raindrops that caught the dim light filtering through the trees.

His shoulder brushed yours occasionally, and each time, you felt a jolt of awareness that made you press your hands tighter together.

The rain continued its steady symphony, the forest growing deeper and darker around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, the quiet punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic tap of rain against the umbrella. Yet, despite the silence, the atmosphere felt warm, a shared sense of understanding hanging in the air.

The proximity of this stranger, his presence just inches from you, made your skin prickle. Your attempt to edge further away left your shoulder and arm exposed to the rain’s relentless assault, cold water trailing down your skin. You shivered involuntarily.

He noticed immediately. Without a word, he adjusted his stance, stepping slightly out from under the umbrella’s reach, allowing more rain to fall on himself. Then, with an effortless, almost graceful motion, he raised his elbow, lifting the umbrella higher in a silent gesture of encouragement. The movement was subtle but clear, his expression calm, his eyes soft as they flickered to you.

"Please, come closer." he said gently, his voice steady but filled with warmth "You’re getting soaked. That’s not good."

The simple suggestion caught you off guard. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of embarrassment and warmth. You felt your cheeks begin to burn, a blush rising that had nothing to do with the summer rain.

"I-I’m fine!" you stammered, the words tumbling out unconvincingly "I don’t want to invade your personal space."

He tilted his head slightly, his long raven-black hair shifting with the movement. A polite smile curved his lips, one that carried both reassurance and a trace of quiet amusement.

"I wouldn’t ask if I minded." he said, his voice as soothing as the patter of rain around you "But I won’t push." slowly, he lowered his hand, letting the umbrella dip back to its previous position.

You hesitated, a tangle of emotions swirling inside you. Embarrassment, nervousness, and something softer - an inexplicable pull that made it hard to look away from him. His behavior was so composed, so gentlemanly. The way he moved, every gesture precise yet natural, left an impression. His politeness was disarming, his patience soothing, and yet his presence was almost overwhelming.

Your gaze flicked over him again, taking in the details you’d been too shy to linger on before.

His profile was sharp, his jawline defined, the curve of his lips soft and poised in a way that seemed almost practiced. His eyes, when they turned to glance at the rain-soaked path ahead, were striking - a light amber that seemed to hold a quiet intensity, like they noticed more than they let on. The line of his nose was elegant, his skin smooth and pale, save for the faint shadows under his eyes that hinted at sleepless nights.

He radiated a quiet confidence, the kind that didn’t demand attention but drew it effortlessly nonetheless. But also some kind of laziness, like some kind of easiness, that was calming and reassuring. His voice, when he spoke, was enveloping, each word seeming to hang in the air just a second longer than necessary. It was a voice you could listen to for hours, soothing yet alluring in a way that made your heart quicken.

You wondered if you should get closer. Your shoulder was getting more and more wet, which was an added encouragement to get closer to this absolutely handsome man.

It's just sharing one umbrella.

Finally, you exhaled softly, giving in to the pull you couldn’t quite resist.

With slow, uncertain steps, you moved closer, slipping your hand between his arm and his side. The warmth of his body was immediate, a stark contrast to the cool dampness of the rain. You felt the firm strength of his forearm beneath your fingers, the contours of muscle that you hadn’t expected but now couldn’t ignore.

Your fingers pressed lightly against his arm, and you bit your lip, heat spreading through your cheeks even more. It was impossible not to notice how solid he felt, how steady. You dared a glance up at him, hoping for some sort of reassurance, but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was focused ahead, his expression calm and unreadable, though there was a faint curve to his lips, almost as if he were holding back a smile.

The moment felt absurdly intimate, and your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t quiet. The way he held the umbrella so steadily, the ease with which he carried your bag, the slight tilt of his head as he kept an eye on the path ahead - it all made you hyperaware of the closeness between you.

For a brief moment, you wondered if anyone passing by would mistake you for a couple. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat to your face.

Are you not dreaming too much?

His voice broke the silence after a moment, soft and steady "Comfortable?" he asked, glancing down at you briefly.

The question sent your heart racing again, though there was nothing teasing in his tone - just genuine care "Y-yeah." you managed, though your voice wavered slightly.

His eyes softened, and the faintest trace of a smile touched his lips "Good." he said simply, his gaze returning to the path.

Walking like this, hand in hand with this beautiful stranger, felt surreal. You tried to focus on the rain, the trees, anything other than the growing warmth in your chest. But it was impossible not to notice every detail - the curve of his lips when he smiled, the faint sparkle of raindrops caught in his dark hair, the steadiness of his voice whenever he spoke. It all left you feeling utterly unmoored, caught in a moment that was both ordinary and extraordinary, with no idea where it might lead.

The rain continued to fall in soft, persistent waves, the sound of it soothing as it mingled with the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps on the wet gravel path.

"Are you coming back from work?" he asked, the words floating gently between you.

Your thoughts snagged on the word, circling back to the weight of your day. The rain, the walk, the shopping - it had been such a long day that the details of work already felt distant, blurred by the rhythm of the journey home.

Noticing your brief silence, the stranger glanced at you, his expression open and polite "Ah - was that too personal?" he asked, his tone softening with genuine consideration "I didn’t mean to pry."

You shook your head quickly, flustered by his tactfulness "No, not at all." you reassured him, your voice a little breathy as you hurried to fill the space "I was just…thinking. Yes, I’m coming back from work."

He nodded slightly, a faint, encouraging smile tugging at his lips. Something about his attentiveness made it easy to keep talking, so you did.

"I work at the local library." you said, your voice growing steadier as the words tumbled out "I run classes with the kids from the nearby school sometimes. You know, little activities - arts and crafts, storytelling, that sort of thing." you smiled faintly at the thought, picturing the chaos of sticky fingers and mismatched crayons that usually accompanied your sessions "I also run an art club there, and…sometimes I help a friend in his flower shop. It’s not really a job, just something I do to help out."

He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes watching you with quiet curiosity as you spoke. When you finished, he nodded again, as if considering your words carefully before speaking.

"That sounds fulfilling." he said finally, his voice carrying a note of admiration "You must be good with children."

You laughed softly "H-hah.. Well.. They can be a handful, but…yes, I like it. It’s nice to see their creativity come alive. I guess you get used to the chaos after a while."

His smile deepened slightly, and you caught the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes "I can imagine." he said.

Wanting to turn the attention away from yourself, you hesitated for only a moment before asking "What about you? Where do you work?"

He smiled again, this time with a touch more ease "I’m a teacher!" he said simply "I work with teenagers in high school. My friend and I - someone I’ve known since my school years - we both teach there."

The way he said it, with just the faintest trace of fondness, made you smile too. There was something reassuring about the way he spoke of his friend, a subtle warmth that hinted at years of trust and shared experiences. It made him seem…steadfast.

You glanced up at him shyly "Do you like it? Teaching, I mean."

His answer came without hesitation, his voice soft yet certain "It’s difficult." he admitted, a thoughtful look crossing his face "Teenagers require a lot of attention, and…a lot of patience." he glanced at you briefly, the faintest curve of his lips returning "You probably know what I mean. You work with children too."

You nodded, returning his smile "I do, but…I think teenagers would be a whole different challenge."

"They are." he said with a light chuckle, his deep voice carrying the faintest note of weariness. Then, as if to counter it, he added "But I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. It’s not always easy, but…it feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be."

His words struck you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something deeply genuine about the way he spoke, an unshakable confidence in his choice of work. It made you pause, your gaze lingering on him as your thoughts wandered.

You studied him quietly for a moment, considering his features again with fresh perspective. His composure, the way he carried himself, the gentle tact in his words - it all seemed to fit perfectly with the image of a teacher. You could picture him in a classroom, standing before rows of students, his sharp eyes softening as he patiently explained something. His presence, so calm yet commanding, seemed tailor-made for guiding others.

You realized you were staring and quickly looked away "You seem…well, like you’re made for it." you said quietly, hoping the compliment didn’t sound too forward.

He glanced at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before his smile softened.

"That’s kind of you to say." he murmured, his voice as warm and steady as ever.

But... there was curiosity in your head.

You wanted to ask what he was doing here, in a small town that offers little except rural peace and quiet. You didn't know what he could even do here. However, you didn't want to be nosy, so you sidestepped the question, leaving silence.

Perhaps he was visiting someone or had an errand to run here?

The dark embrace of the forest began to loosen its grip as you emerged into a wide clearing, where the rain seemed to soften just a little. The shift was almost imperceptible at first, but with each step, the oppressive weight of the dense trees gave way to the open expanse ahead.

Fields stretched out on either side of the path, their crops swaying slightly in the breeze. Droplets bounced off the umbrella with a little more delicacy.

The silence between you and the stranger was not awkward but companionable, like the quiet that comes with a shared understanding. The air felt fresh, cleansed by the rain, carrying with it the faint earthy scent of wet soil and the sweetness of grass. You let your gaze wander over the scenery, taking in the rolling hills in the distance, dotted with clusters of trees and lined with distant hedges. The outline of your small town was barely visible ahead, its railway station like a speck on the horizon, still far off but reassuring in its presence.

The stranger’s voice broke the silence, low and calm "It’s beautiful here." he said, his tone soft, almost contemplative "Fields like this, the hills… It’s peaceful."

You turned your head slightly, catching the way his eyes lingered on the landscape, his expression relaxed but thoughtful. There was something about the way he spoke - simple, understated - that made you feel the weight of his words. His appreciation for the scene seemed genuine, unhurried, and you found yourself smiling without thinking.

"It is." you agreed quietly, glancing out at the fields "You don’t really notice it sometimes, not when you see it every day." he hummed softly in response, a thoughtful sound that didn’t demand more words.

Without realizing when or how, you found yourself speaking again, your voice spilling into the stillness as easily as water flowing over stones. You talked about your friend from the flower shop, recounting little quirks and habits that made you laugh. You shared snippets of life in your small town, anecdotes about the library and the children who always managed to surprise you with their boundless creativity.

He listened attentively, nodding occasionally, his faint smile encouraging you to continue. At one point, you glanced up at him and noticed the slight tilt of his head, the way his eyes softened as he listened, as though he was genuinely invested in every word you said. The realization made you feel oddly self-assured, your initial shyness melting away as the conversation grew.

Eventually, you turned the question back to him, asking about his life, curious about what kind of life this composed, enigmatic stranger led.

"I teach in Tokyo." he said, his voice carrying a faint note of wistfulness "It’s…different. Busier, louder. There’s always something happening, but it’s not without its charm."

You say that most of your friends moved to the city after graduation.

So he went on to talk about his friend, the one he had mentioned earlier.

"He’s…energetic." he said with a small chuckle "And very teasing. Honestly, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, but don’t tell him I said that - he’d never let me live it down."

You laughed at that, charmed by the small glimpse of his life.

He shared a few anecdotes about their time teaching together, little moments of chaos or hilarity that had unfolded in the classroom. The way he spoke about his students and his work confirmed what you had already suspected - he was dedicated, thoughtful, and quietly passionate about what he did.

In return, you found yourself sharing even more stories from your own life. You recounted small, funny moments - like the time you had accidentally herded a neighbor's chickens into your yard, thinking they were lost, only to have the neighbor laugh and tease you for trying to "adopt" them. Or the summer afternoon when you and a group of friends decided to build a raft out of old planks and rope to sail across the pond, only to have it sink halfway through, leaving everyone soaked and laughing.

You both laughed easily, the sound mingling with the rain as it continued to fall lightly around you. The conversation flowed effortlessly, like a stream winding its way through familiar terrain. His presence, which had initially been a little intimidating, now felt warm and grounding, like a steady current guiding you forward.

At one point, you ventured to ask if he had a family, expecting perhaps a brief mention of siblings or a spouse. Instead, what he shared left you momentarily speechless.

"I have two daughters" he said suddenly, his voice soft and contemplative.

You blinked, caught off guard "You…you have kids?" the surprise evident in your voice. He looks quite young.

He nodded, glancing at you briefly before his gaze returned to the path ahead "They’re both in their teens now. I adopted them when I was just a little older than they are now - barely finished with school myself. They didn’t have anyone else... and I couldn’t imagine leaving them to fend for themselves."

The revelation left you momentarily speechless. You turned to look at him, truly look at him, as if the weight of what he’d just said needed a second to settle.

"That’s…incredible." you finally managed, your voice quieter than before, in awe "I can’t even imagine taking on that kind of responsibility at such a young age. You must have sacrificed so much."

He offered you a faint smile, one tinged with a mixture of humility and pride "It wasn’t easy." he admitted "But they’re everything to me. They’ve shaped my life in ways I can’t even begin to explain."

You couldn’t help but picture it - this tall, composed man stepping into a role that most would shy away from, shaping not just his own future but that of two young lives. It was admirable, truly.

"What are they like?"

He smiled again, this time with a warmth that softened his sharp features "Oh, they’re full of life, though very different from each other. One’s quieter, more reflective - she is very fond of plushies and all similar crafts using yarn. The other is…well, let’s just say she keeps me on my toes. She’s fearless in a way I never was. She loves photography and good food."

You simply nodded.

"I think they would enjoy your art classes. The way you talk about it makes me want to visit it myself." he added after a moment.

"You think so?" you asked with shiny eyes.

He nodded with a tender smile "Absolutely. They love anything that lets them express themselves. Art, storytelling… They’re always asking questions, wanting to understand more about the world. I think they’d have enjoyed listening to you. You have that…spark."

The compliment made your cheeks warm, and you quickly glanced away, focusing instead on the sights around you.

The conversation shifted naturally to other topics. You spoke about the world, exchanging thoughts about the small joys and challenges of everyday life. You found yourself opening up more, sharing little pieces of your own mind and heart.

As the rain finally stopped, he closed the umbrella with a soft click, holding it casually at his side. You expected him to move away then, to reclaim the space between you, but instead, he stayed close. His hand remained loosely linked with yours, his warmth still a steady presence beside you.

The world around you seemed to exhale, the fields and trees glistening with a fresh sheen as the last droplets clung to leaves and blades of grass. The sky above remained a soft, pale gray, the kind of color that hinted at the sun’s return but didn’t quite promise it yet.

With each step, the railway station came closer into view, its outline growing sharper against the backdrop of the hills. But the approaching destination only made you more aware of the fleetingness of the moment. You felt a pang of something you couldn’t quite name, a mix of gratitude and reluctance, as though part of you wanted to stay in this quiet, rain-kissed world just a little longer.

The train station finally came into view, small and modest, with its quaint stop marked by a weathered sign bearing the name of the town.

Just beyond, on one of the intersecting streets, you noticed a sleek black car with tinted windows. It stood out starkly against the quaint, rural charm of the area.

Leaning casually against the side of the car was a tall man - even taller than the stranger next to you, but dressed in a similar uniform. What immediately drew your attention, however, was his unmistakable shock white hair and a black blindfold wrapped around his eyes. His presence was striking, almost aloof, despite the relaxed posture and the wide grin that spread across his face.

"Yo, Suguru!" the white-haired man called out, his voice carrying easily over the distance. His grin widened, impossibly cheeky, as though he found the entire situation endlessly amusing.

Suguru.

So this stranger’s name was Suguru. You repeated it silently to yourself, letting the name settle in your mind. It suited him somehow, elegant and distinct, much like the man himself.

You hadn’t asked, too shy to break the natural flow of conversation earlier, the name rolled around in your mind, attaching itself to the face you had grown so familiar with over the past hour.

As you neared, you hesitated slightly, loosening your hand from his and stepping away to give him space. Suguru’s warmth lingered for a moment before the cool air slipped between you, a quiet reminder that your paths were about to diverge. He stepped forward to meet the white-haired man, who straightened from his casual lean, revealing that he was indeed taller than Suguru by a noticeable margin.

The two men greeted each other with an ease that spoke of years of familiarity. The white-haired man’s smile remained fixed as he raised a brow.

"What took you so long?” he teased, his tone light but carrying an edge of mischief.

Suguru’s expression remained calm, though you caught the faintest flicker of irritation in his eyes "You left me." he said simply, his voice steady but firm "You were supposed to wait."

The white-haired man shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unbothered "I figured you could handle it." he said, waving a hand dismissively "In the meantime I bought some souvenirs!"

Then his grin returned, sharp and teasing "Besides, looks like you found yourself a companion."

At that, Suguru glanced over his shoulder at you, and for a moment, his amber eyes softened. He stepped back toward you, handing over your shopping bag and umbrella with both hands, his movements deliberate and courteous.

"Thank you." he said, his voice kind and sincere, with just a hint of warmth. He bowed slightly, a gesture that felt both formal and personal "For your time, your help, and your kindness."

You felt a flicker of embarrassment under his gaze but managed a small smile in return "I’m glad I could help." you said honestly "And…that you found your transport."

Suguru reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small card, holding it out to you. You accepted it hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. Glancing down, you read the text printed neatly on the card.

Geto Suguru Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School (There was a phone number printed underneath.)

"If you’d like to talk..." Suguru said softly, his tone measured but kind "...or if you see something…unusual, don’t hesitate to call."

Your heart fluttered slightly. His words lingered in the air, their meaning layered with a subtle weight that you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded slowly, your thumb brushing over the edge of the card "Thank you." you said, your voice a little quieter now, tinged with a shy kind of gratitude.

The white-haired man let out an exaggerated grunt from behind Suguru, clearly impatient "Alright, alright, we’re on a schedule here, Suguru! Let’s go!" his voice was teasing, but there was an underlying firmness that suggested he meant it.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder at him, then back at you "Goodbye." he said, bowing slightly once more.

You returned the gesture, bowing politely before straightening up and giving him a small wave "Goodbye." you said softly.

As you turned away, your steps taking you toward the village path, the rain-soaked world around you seemed to glow. The thick gray clouds began to part, their edges gilded by the first rays of sunlight breaking through. The golden light spilled across the fields, painting the wet grass and the distant rooftops with a soft shimmer. You adjusted your shopping bag and umbrella, your figure gradually retreating into the peaceful scenery.

You felt happy and excited to have another conversation with him someday.

Behind you, Suguru watched silently. His soft eyes lingered on your silhouette, his expression unreadable but calm, as if committing the sight to memory. The way you walked - unhurried but purposeful, your damp hair catching the faint glimmer of sunlight - held his attention in a way he didn’t fully understand. There was something quietly remarkable about the moment, about you, and for a fleeting second, he almost considered calling out to you again.

Almost.

From beside him, Satoru nudged him playfully in the ribs, his usual grin tugging at his lips "You’re staring~" he teased, his tone both amused and pointed "Should I be worried? Or are you just enjoying the view?"

Suguru didn’t glance away immediately, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you take another step into the sunlit clearing.

"Just appreciating kindness." he replied, his voice calm but tinged with something softer, almost thoughtful. Then, with a flicker of amusement in his own tone, he added "And a view like that deserves a moment, doesn’t it?"

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes behind his blindfold "You’re such a romantic, Suguru. Just don’t go writing poetry about this later, alright?"

Suguru chuckled lightly, finally turning toward the car "Not everything needs words, Satoru." he said, his tone warm with a trace of amusement "Some things just stay with you."

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening as he opened the car door "Alright, philosopher. Let’s go before I turn into a sap too."

Suguru gave one last glance in your direction, his gaze lingering for a second longer than he intended, before stepping into the car.

As the car rolled away, Suguru found his gaze lingering on the path where you had disappeared, his thoughts quiet but persistent. He wondered, just briefly, what might have happened if he’d stayed a little longer - if there’d been more time to talk, to walk beside you under the clearing sky.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, as he told himself, almost absently, that this wasn’t the last time he’d see you.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

[kaki9]

Wing mirrors should be cheap and easily replaceable bits of silvered glass attached to the side of the car, not cameras and screens

Touchscreens do not belong in cars

[archiveofvirtue]

ROUGH SEX WITH YOUR CO-STAR! ⸻ jensen ackles

content / jensen ackles x fem!reader, actor!jensen, actress!reader, age gap, 18+, mdni, dom!jensen, sub!reader, oral (male receiving), forced blow job, hair pulling, choking, p in v (unprotected), praise kink, just jensen being freaky asf, 3.8k words

summary / when the mixture of alcohol and forbidden attraction hits you, you are no longer sure how long you can deny the growing desire between you and Jensen

The sound of laughter and music filled the bar as you and cast of The Boys gathered around the table, enjoying a rare evening off after a whirlwind of interviews, conventions, and press events promoting the new season.

You sat near the edge of the group, a glass of wine in your hand as you watched the scene unfold. You’d been on the road with them for two weeks now, traveling from state to state to promote the show, and despite the exhausting schedule, nights like this made it all worth it.

Especially with your costar Jensen sitting just across the table, his smile lighting up the room, making everyone around him feel at ease. And despite your usual calm aura, he could tell you were taking it all in, probably still adjusting to the chaotic rhythm of show business.

You had joined the cast as the newest love interest for Soldier Boy, Jensen's character, and while you’d been nervous about working with such an established actor— he quickly made you feel comfortable. He was kind, funny, and despite being almost fifteen years older than you, he never treated you like the "new girl."

When you’d first started working together, Jensen was like a mentor to you but soon enough,m he found himself noticing more than just your talent. While you also found yourself noticing things about him—like the way he smiled at you when you two ran lines together or how his hand would linger just a little longer on your arm when you wrapped a scene.

And then, of course, there was the fact that you found him undeniably attractive. Everyone knew Jensen was good-looking, but up close? It was something else entirely. You’d kept it professional, though. He'd just come off a divorce, and the last thing you wanted was to complicate things for him or yourself.

Still, there was no denying the chemistry between you two, both on-screen and off. And Jensen wasn't oblivious to the tension that had developed between you over the last few weeks either..

"Hey, y/n," Jensen called from across the table, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was leaning forward, his voice cutting through the laughters around you. "You've been quiet tonight. Everything okay?"

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, just still getting used to it."

Jensen grinned, his eyes glistening in the dim light. "You sure? We've got drinks, great company. Seems like a perfect night to me."

You chuckled, sipping your wine to hide the fact that your heart had started beating just a little faster.

He'd been like this all night—talkative, laughing easily, and more physical than usual. His hand had brushed your arm more than once when you talked, and every time, your skin began to burn—in a good way.

As the night wore on, the group started to thin out. Some of the cast heading back to the hotel, but you, Jensen, and a few others stuck around, ordering another round of drinks. The bar was cozier now, quieter, and the low lighting gave it an intimate atmosphere.

So Jensen found himself talking to you more closely, the casual distance between you shrinking without you even realizing it.

"So, how are you feeling about everything?" He asked, his voice low as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "The show, all this traveling. It's a lot, huh?"

"Yeah," you admitted, meeting his gaze. "It's been amazing, though. A little surreal, honestly. Sometimes I still can't believe I'm here, working with you guys."

"Well, you're killing it," Jensen said, his eyes locking onto yours. "I mean it, y/n. You've been great this season."

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, trying to compose yourself. "Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you."

"Don't downplay it. You're talented as hell. And...you're fun to work with. Really fun,"

he added, letting his words hang in the air. He hadn't meant for them to sound as loaded as they did, but now that he'd said it, he found himself holding your gaze a little longer, wondering if you’d caught the shift in his tone.

Your heart raced as you glanced up at him, trying to read his expression. Was he just being friendly? Or was there something more behind his words?

"I—" you started, but the words caught in your throat. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say, or even if you should say anything at all. But it was hard to ignore the way he was looking at you, the warmth in his eyes, the subtle way his knee brushed against yours under the table.

"You know," he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes never left yours, "I think we've spent more time together on this road trip than we did shooting the season."

You laughed softly, grateful for the slight change in topic. "Yeah, but the road trip's been fun. It's nice getting to see different places, meet fans, and, you know, bond with the cast."

Jensen's grin widened. "Bond, huh? Is that what we're calling it?"

You laughed, clearly trying to brush off the tension. "What else would you call it?"

"Something else entirely," he said, his voice low, a hint of challenge that sent a shiver through you.

Before you could respond though, Karl called over from the bar, breaking the moment. Jensen leaned back, laughing at something the others were saying, but his hand lingered on your lower arm, his thumb tracing a small, almost absent-minded circle against your skin. It was such a subtle gesture, but it sent a thrill through you.

You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on here than just casual flirting. There was tension between the two of you, a pull you couldn't ignore, and you were certain he felt it too.

But as much as you wanted to explore whatever this was, you knew you had to be careful. Still, you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered every time he looked at you.

For now, you’d play it cool. But something told you that whatever was happening between you wasn't going away anytime soon.

Eventually, even the most fun nights had to end. The bar's lights dimmed and everyone decided it was time to call it a night. You all made your way back to the hotel, the cool night air helping to clear your mind, which had been buzzing with thoughts of Jensen all night.

When you finally reached your room, you kicked off your shoes and put on your silk pyjamas before flopping onto the bed with a long sigh. The events of the night played in your head—Jensen's teasing remarks, the way he'd stayed close to you, how his touch lingered just a bit too long. There was definitely something there, you could feel it.

But as your thoughts swirled, you suddenly realized something. Your phone. Where was your phone? You shot up, mentally retracing your steps. Then it hit you—you’d given it to Jensen earlier in the night to hold onto because you hadn't brought a purse with you.

"Dammit," you muttered, cursing yourself for forgetting. Now you’d have to go to his room and get it back. You groaned inwardly, knowing it would feel awkward after the way you’d been acting all night. But there was no way you could go to bed without your phone.

Reluctantly, you got up, slipped your shoes back on, and headed out of your room. You walked down the hallway, heart thumping a little faster than it should have. You told yourself it was just because you didn't want to bother him this late, but you knew the truth.

It was Jensen.

And the way he made you feel, had you on edge.

When you reached his door, you took a deep breath and knocked. No response. You frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. You were just about to turn and head back to your room when the door swung open.

And there stood Jensen, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his hair wet and dripping from the shower. He looked at you with those piercing eyes, a playful smirk on his lips, completely unfazed by the fact that he was half-naked in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat. God, he looked unbelievably sexy. His broad chest was still glistening with water, and your eyes instinctively trailed down over his abs to the towel hanging low on his hips.

You were completely overwhelmed, mind scrambling to find words, but all you could do was stand there, staring like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Uh... I—" you stammered, trying to get rid of any filthy thoughts that were coming to you. "I need my phone... I think you have it? I gave it to you earlier at the bar."

Jensen raised an eyebrow, amused by the way your cheeks flushed as he smirked. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that," he said, his voice playful. "Come on in. I think I put it on the nightstand."

You hesitated for a split second, heart hammering in your chest, but you forced yourself to move, stepping inside. The room was dimly lit, cozy, and the scent of his sweet body wash hung in the air. You tried not to focus on how close he was standing to you as you made your way to the nightstand where your phone sat.

As you reached for it, you could feel his eyes on you, the tension between you almost palpable. You picked up the phone, your hand trembling slightly, and turned to face him.

He was leaning casually against the wall now, arms crossed, still wearing nothing but that damn towel. His demeanor was teasing, but there was something else in his gaze too—something that made your pulse race even faster.

"You know," Jensen said, his voice low and smooth, "you could've just called for it. Oh wait," he added with a smirk, "you didn't have your phone."

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. "Yeah, a little hard to call without it," you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant but clearly nervous.

Jensen chuckled softly, pushing off the wall and walking toward you, stopping just a few feet away. He looked down at you with that same playful glint in his eyes, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

"You sure that's all you came for?" he asked, his voice dropping lower. He saw the hesitation in your eyes, the flicker of doubt, but also curiosity, maybe even a hint of longing.

Your breath hitched. You could feel the tension between you two, the way his gaze held yours, and for a brief second, you wondered what would happen if you just... leaned in.

But then reality came crashing back. Jensen had just gone through a divorce. He was vulnerable, and you didn't want to complicate things, not like this. Not now.

You forced yourself to smile, though your heart was still racing. "Yeah," you said, holding up your phone as if to prove your point. "Just needed this."

Jensen's eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he stepped back a little, his smirk softening. "Well, you've got it now."

"Thanks," you said quickly, eyes dropping down to the floor as you couldn't bare to look into his piercing green eyes, yet the pull too was strong, so that you raised your head again just seconds later.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched you standing there, still holding onto your phone like a lifeline. The playful smirk never leaving his face, his voice low and laced with a teasing challenge.

"Yet you're still here."

The words hung in the air between you, thick with tension. You froze, the grip on your phone tightening.

Were you imagining things? Misreading him?

The way he had been so flirtatious all night, the casual touches, the lingering glances-it couldn't be nothing, could it?

Your mind was spinning, trying to make sense of the situation. You weren’t sure if you were overthinking or if you were too tipsy to trust your own judgment. But the way he looked at you now, like he was daring you to stay, made your pulse race.

He must have noticed the hesitation in your eyes because his expression shifted. He moved toward you, closing the distance, his hand finding your waist with an almost deliberate slowness. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and before you could process what was happening, he pulled you just a bit closer.

It was a bold move, one that made your heart skip a beat. You were taken aback, breath hitching in your chest as you looked up at him. His face was inches from yours now, and the tension was so thick it was hard to breathe.

For a moment, your mind raced with mixed emotions. You knew this could complicate everything. And yet, the pull between you was undeniable.

Jensen's thumb gently brushed your side, his touch grounding you as the intensity of the moment swirled around you.

His green eyes bore into yours, and for a split second, you were unsure of what to do. But then, in the next heartbeat, your hesitation melted away. Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a rush of heat and urgency.

The second your mouths touched, it was like a dam had broken. The tension that had been simmering between you all night finally erupted into something raw and electric.

Jensen responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you fully against him, eager to finally feel you, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

Your mind blurred with a heady mix of desire and disbelief, your hands instinctively finding their way to his bare chest, your fingers grazing his muscles still damp from the shower. You could taste the faint bitterness of alcohol on his lips, and the fact that you were both a little tipsy only seemed to add to the intensity of the moment.

His hands roamed up your sides, one slipping into your hair as the kiss deepened, his body pressing you gently but firmly against the edge of the bed. Your heart raced, pulse pounding in your ears as you softly plunged onto the soft mattress.

You unconsciously bit onto your lower lip as you looked up at him, unholy images replaying in your mind as your gaze fell onto his happy trail, wanting nothing more than to rip that damn towel off of him.

Jensen noticed how your eyes stuck to his body just a little too long, eliciting a chuckle out of him, "Go ahead, no need to be all shy now."

For a second, a small ounce of doubt crept into your mind—this was risky, so risky. You two were co-stars, and if anyone found out, it could lead to complications neither of you were ready for. But as Jensen's hand reached down to your chin, grabbing it with his big palm, that doubt vanished, replaced by desire.

You couldn't bare the need for him any longer, immediately getting to work by dropping onto your knees, the anticipation almost killing you as Jensen teasingly began to remove the towel from his hips.

His eyes never left yours as he pulled down the white cloth, revealing his already hard cock. The sight of him, made your breath catch in your throat, gulping as you saw how big he actually was.

You came face to face with his length, looking up at him through hooded eyes, "Come on, show me what that pretty mouth can do." He groaned, immediately sending tingles to your core, desperately pressing your thighs together.

With easy hands you held him in your soft palms, running your thumb over his tip and spreading the already leaking precum over it.

Pressing your lips together you gathered all your courage and inched closer, sticking out your tongue and licking a stripe all the way from his base to the tip. You repeated this action a few more times, then fully taking him in your mouth as far as you could go.

"Holy fuck, baby." Jensen growled, his head thrown back in pleasure as he couldn't believe how good your wet and warm mouth felt around him, only having imagined it before.

You began to swirl your tongue around his cock, jerking off what you couldn't get in your mouth, as he reached to grab a fist full of your hair, yanking you back a little so he could grab at your neck with his other hand.

"You wanna be a good girl for me, right?" He mumbled in between grunts, admiring your plump lips that were so desperately trying to get back to sucking him off. You nodded hastily, this man could literally do anything to you and you’d thank him after.

"Good then, open up wide, baby."

He instantly took advantage of your parted lips and plunged himself down your throat in a swift motion, your eyes widening as you had to gag at the force.

"Shhh, relax." Jensen cooed, his voice now softer as he gave you some time to get used to your mouth being full of him.

Once you gave him a small nod he began rolling his hips slowly into your mouth, your hands grabbing at his thighs to steady yourself. It was a weird feeling to have him down your throat so deep but as he continued his movements you began to like it, wanting him to go even harder.

You jerked your face closer to his abdomen, earning a deep and breathless chuckle from him. Realizing how eager you were lapping at his dick he picked up his pace, his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again, driving you crazy.

The built up of saliva and precum that was dripping from the corner of your lips, helped Jensen even more to slide his cock in and out of your warm mouth.

His grunts became louder and his hands were gripping the back of your head as he fucked your throat, your moans sending vibrations throughout his body, and he knew that if he continued he wouldn't last any longer.

But cuming just in your mouth tonight wouldn't satisfy him, he needed more.

Pulling you off him by your hair you shot him a confused look, scared that he might've changed his mind and didn't want any of this, that it was just the alcohol on which behalf he was acting out, but his words quickly made all your doubts vanish.

"Need to finish inside you, y/n." He said, before pulling you back onto your feet and yanking your small frame onto the silky sheets.

Towering over you he ran his hands along the soft fabric of your pyjama shorts, pulling them down harshly as you freed yourself from the little top that was just barely covering your tits anyway.

By the way his eyes widened and the way he pulled some air in sharply, you could tell that he took notice of your dripping wet cunt, already leaking onto the sheets. "Jensen.." you whined, the urge to finally feel him inside taking over you.

"Patience, baby." He smirked up at you, eyes full of lust as he placed some teasing kisses onto the insides of your soft thighs, making you squirm in desperation.

Jensen jerked his still glistening cock for a few times, his one hand stayed at your chest, playing with your tit, as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Looking up at you for approval, you nodded which gave him the sign to proceed, his tip brushing over your clit and through your slick folds to lube himself up, before pushing into your needy cunt fast.

You gasped at the sudden fullness, his cock stretching out your walls so perfectly, making Jensen grunt as he burried himself completely inside you, as if you were made for him.

"Gosh, look how perfect your pretty cunt is sucking me in. Really needed me that bad, huh?"

Your eyes scrunched together, feeling yourself get wetter from his words alone. You rapidly nodded, breathing out a soft "mhm..shit..yes" as he chuckled, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses to your neck.

He was quick to go back to his previous action, rolling his hips smoothly against yours as he picked up his pace, soon slamming into you at an ungodly speed. The almost pornografic noises that came out of your mouth made him chuckle, clearly knowing that there might be some complaints by the morning, but he didn't care.

He kept on pounding into your eager pussy, your legs wrapped around his hips by now, making him hit much deeper, if that was even humanly possible.

"Fuck.. I'm gonna.." you cursed underneath your breath, feeling the familiar knot in your lower stomach screaming for release.

"Cum all over me, sweetheart." Jensen groaned into your ear, his hot breath making your skin prickle. His hand crept down, two of his digits rubbing circles at your clit, causing you to let out a loud, almost scream-like, moan as you released all over him, creaming his cock.

"Fucking shit.." he grunted, teeth pressing into his lower lip as he gave you a few more hard thrusts, pearls of sweat forming on his forehead as he chased his own high.

Groaning out loud you felt him twitch inside of you, cuming deep in your cunt, painting your slick walls white.

As both of you calmed down you still couldn't believe that this was actually real, even as Jensen pulled out of you and plopped onto the bed beside you.

"Shit y/n, that shower was hella pointless..definitely not complaining though." He laughed, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he wrapped one of his big arms around your waist, pulling you close.

"Well, screams for a round two then." You replied, stroking his muscular chest.

"You mean this or the shower?" He eyed you down, a smirk plastered on his face as he pointed in between you two.

You just shrugged, yet the devilish smile plastered on your lips gave it away.

wow this was a wild ride, and i am actually kinda proud of this one !!

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @angelicjackles @nuemanfilms @hischrrypie @seasons-of-death @starkeysprincess @drewsarms @rubyvhs @deansenvy @supernatural-wolfie @sammyluvr @nxptvn @rafecameroninterlude @deansbite

[tinybrooms]

The Beggining - Thomas Hewitt x Fem Reader

Thomas Hewitt (TCM: Beggining) and Female Reader

NOTE: This is my first one shot and it's pretty long, hope you like it, comments and feed back is always welcome.

Summary: Y/N has been the only friend Thomas has had his entire life and he will give his life to protect her when she needs it and after all, they're meant to be.

Warnings: Reader being abused, family being killed, hard lenguage, kill references, slasher content and fluff.

________________________________________________________

Everything was packed and ready to move to Austin, the town had fallen into a decline that there was no possibility of continuing to subsist in the place where you were born and that meant leaving everything behind to start a new life, your mama, a single woman in charge of 3 girls did everything possible to put food on the table, first working as a packer in the old meat factory and then helping Luda Mae at the small gas station, but money was little and they couldn't support two households with the few cents that the drivers left every time they filled up with gas and everything even worse when the pumps ran dry.

You were the oldest of those 3 girls, little Jo Anne was 5 years old while Ella had just turned 11 and was beginning to be a young lady, taking you as an example to combine her clothes and comb her hair as golden as the sun in a cute way.

One day before moving to Austin you decided to make your favorite dessert, some small bonbons filled with cherry jelly, your favorite fruit and you plated them in a nice container to take to the Hewitts' house, you wanted to say goodbye to them for being your second family but Above all, you wanted to say goodbye to Tommy, your best friend for as long as you can remember.

The road to the Hewitt's farm was short but the hot summer sun and the warm afternoon wind made you feel that it had taken you a little longer to reach the residence in the middle of a dry cornfield, your footsteps sounded as they stepped on the leaves and a greeting In the distance made you look towards an old tractor that made more noise than it seemed to move.

-Hello there little one, what'ya doing here? -Old Monty came down, wiping his hands on his pants, approaching you while he adjusted his glasses.

-Hello uncle Monty - you smiled watching him approach, greeting him with your hand - I came to say goodbye before we went to Austin, I brought my favorite dessert for you to eat tonight during dinner

-So you are leaving after all? Little Tommy still doesn't understand that you're leaving, he's been a little out of his mind these days - the old man sighed, putting his hands on his waist, closing his eyes a little for the strong evening sun

-I see…can I go inside? I would like to say goodbye - you looked at him letting out a little air feeling a blow in your chest, you knew that maybe you would never see your best friend again and the man just nodded making a gesture with his hand inviting you to go to the house while he returned to the old tractor

Your steps were slow, nervous and sad until you reached the entrance of the place and opened the screen door that made a peculiar squeak when opened, You left the plate on the kitchen table and wiped your hands on your skirt of your dress walking up the stairs slowly heading to the side of the hallway where you knew Tommy's bedroom was located.

The door was open a little and you could see his big back as he sewed what was apparently a shirt, your hand hit the door slowly making Thomas grunt without looking.

-Hello Tommy…- your voice sounded low and shy but it made Thomas turn around quickly looking at you as you opened the door and walked towards him, smiling and sitting next to him- how have you been? I heard that today was your last day at the meat factory

Thomas looked back at the floor barely nodding returning to his work with the needle and thread on his shirt

-What are you doing? Did you rip another one of your shirts again? -You smiled even though he didn't notice it and carefully took his hands to take the needle and help him - I'll do it for you.

The enormous man, submissive to your touch, let you take the things, looking at you through the strands of his long hair, releasing a sigh that sounded loud due to the obstruction of his mask.

-Do you remember that days ago I told you that tomorrow would be the day we were going to Austin? - You looked at him while you carefully sewed the sleeve of his shirt that covered your entire lap as if it were a blanket, Thomas just turned his face, looking at the other side of the room, clenching his fists, making his knuckles turn white.

- I know you don't want me to move Tommy, but I can't leave mama alone, I have to go with her to work and help her with my sisters - your hands fell into your lap looking at him sadly trying to get him to meet your eyes but he just lowered his head without growling as was his way of communicate - Tommy, don't be sad, we will always be friends, okay? I promise that whenever I can I will come visit you and bring you things from Austin - you smiled at him, taking his hand, making him look at you with his noticeably moist eyes.

After a few seconds looking at you, the huge man pounced on you, hugging you tightly, almost taking all the air out of your lungs, you felt that at any second one of your bones would break but that didn't matter to you, Tommy always gave those strong and wise hugs. You were going to miss him so you enjoyed it, the two of you staying like that for a few minutes until Charlie interrupted yelling from the kitchen with one of his mundane comments.

After a few hours and Luda Mae insisting that you stay for dinner, you went home again with a plate in your hands to take to your family, even though Thomas grunted and insisted on accompanying you home to spend more time together you convinced him that he should stay for reasons that Charlie only knew, you didn't want him to get in trouble so he agreed to stay, saying goodbye one last time with another hug and a kiss on your hair.

The breeze was fresh and the moonlight illuminated the path between the plants and trees that had already been formed from so many times that you and Thomas went or came to each other's house. After a few minutes walking you could see your small house with the lights on but something strange seemed to be noticeable when the door was open, you quickened your step almost running home entering while you looked everywhere noticing objects thrown and broken.

-Mama?…Ella? - You walked between the rooms looking for them, walking between glass and furniture lying on the floor - Mama?

Your steps stopped when you entered the kitchen, throwing the plate that was in your hands causing it to break into a thousand pieces while you tried to understand why your mother and sisters were on the floor unconscious among blood and pieces of clothing, the golden hair of Ella and Jo Anne was dyed a reddish color while your mother had a thin carmine line on her neck where a pool of blood formed, her dress was tangled around her waist and her underwear was missing.

Your steps backwards stopped when you hit your back on a wall, your vision blurred by tears and you could only run outside stumbling through the furniture to run towards the Hewitts' house, your only hope to help you.

It was a few meters ahead when you heard the engine of some motorcycles approaching while screams and shots in the air made you stop in fear, leaving you petrified.

-Well well, where are you going in such a hurry little doll? - A man with a beard and dressed in leather smiled at you, spitting out what looked like tobacco.

You couldn't say anything, your body was shaking and the tears didn't stop coming out of your eyes.

-Can't you talk, darling? The other bitches couldn't stop screaming a while ago and you don't say a word? - the other 2 men laughed while one of them got off his motorcycle, approaching you, pointing a gun at you, making your eyes widen with fear - I won't hurt you, I won't do anything you don't want, you look like a pretty girl, the kind that make cute sounds when they are fucked like the sluts they are

Your moans and cries came out muffled from your throat and your brain forced you to run as the only escape but a strong hand grabbed your hair, pulling you on your back while you screamed and moved your hands and legs trying to defend yourself from the scratchy hands that touched your body.

-Please let me go, I didn't do anything wrong - you screamed while your tears ran down the edges of your eyes, wetting your hair.

-Of course you haven't done anything wrong, little angel, that's why you're not a woman yet - the blonde-haired man laughed, putting his hand under your skirt, touching your between your legs, hurting you - stop moving, damn bitch, - his strong hand hit your cheek leaving you stunned

-Do it quickly, I want some of the slut too- the bearded man ordered as he took your wrists placing them on top of your head.

For you they were hours of agony, between blows, insults and three men abusing you, you lost track of time before falling unconscious among the neglected grass that covered the intruders, it was almost dawn when your eyes opened looking at the dark sky with some rays. of sun about to appear.

Your head hurt, your sore and weak body could barely get up, stumbling making you fall to your knees, your dress was torn causing one of your breasts to be exposed, your private part hurt and burned as if a knife had been stuck in your innocent crotch.

The path that took you 10 minutes to travel became a long trip of almost 40 minutes, your feet barely dragged and your dry mouth made your throat hurt every time you took a breath of air and when you looked at the Hewitt house a sigh came out of you in relief even though you still had to walk the entire driveway.

Luda Mae was walking carefully with a basket of clean clothes that she had recently washed by hand and was preparing to hang them on the clotheslines in the yard when she looked at you walking in the distance, she carefully adjusted her glasses on her sweaty nose and let out a frightened moan when she could recognize your battered form covered in bruises.

-Oh my sweet lord, oh my god - the woman almost screamed, dropping the basket on the floor, walking hurriedly towards you - for God's sake baby, who did this to you?

Your steps continued slowly, your chest rumbled with sobs as you looked at her and felt safe, but as soon as her arms held you, your body vanished, causing the woman to fall next to you on the floor, but not before taking care not to hit yourself.

-Thomas! Thomas, come here - the woman screamed hysterically, making Charlie and Monty quickly leave the house, Charlie still holding his cup of coffee which almost fell to the floor when Thomas rushed out to help his mother, but when he looked at you on the floor between her arms his steps hurried quickly as growls came from his throat.

-Take her inside carefully, son - Luda adjusted your corrupted dress to take care of your little privacy - Lord, have mercy on this poor girl - the woman was praying to herself as she followed her enormous son inside and the two men looked at the scene, frozen, scared of what that they had looked at.

Thomas ignored his mother's instructions and instead of lying down on the sofa in the living room he quickly went up to his room with you in his arms, laying you down on his bed slowly as if you were the most fragile and precious thing that his hands had ever held, his anxiety gnawed away his head looking at you unconscious and covered in wounds and bruises that went from your legs to your face, his growls were loud and aggressive and he didn't calm down until Luda took his arms making him look at her.

-Look at me son, Thomas relax -Luda looked at him tenderly but with a firm voice- this is not the time for you not to listen to me, we must take care of her and know what happened, do you understand? - Her hands went up to his cheeks, calming him a little while his chest rose and fell with an anger that he had never felt, not even the day he was fired from the factory and ended his boss's life.

Luda was in charge of commanding that day, she sent Monty and Charlie to your house to tell you what had happened, but as soon as they arrived and saw the scene, both men knelt down, bowing their heads, while old Monty shed a couple of tears, then After all he was the ''Uncle Monty'' of those little girls and someone had annihilated them, Charlie found a little humanity in his heart and ordered Monthy to find some sheets to cover the bodies of the three women to put them in the truck and take them home where they could give them a decent burial, after all they had been good people with their family and deserved respect.

When the men came home and told Luda what had happened, the woman couldn't help but cry and fall into a crisis when she saw the lifeless bodies of her friend and her little babies, what cruel person had done that to your family? They were the sweetest people in the whole town and they didn't deserve an ending like that.

While the three eldest were arranging everything to respectfully say goodbye to the three ladies, Thomas in his room had already carefully removed your torn dress, to be honest he had often imagined your body when Charlie forced him to watch those obscene movies or told him stories of how girls behaved when he touched them, but this time all his thoughts of desire disappeared when he saw you like that.

A bucket of warm water rested on his nightstand while he carefully cleaned your face with a small damp towel, when he removed all the dirt from your face, he could notice your broken lip and the bump on your cheek that was beginning to heal dyed purple, his hand slowly went down your neck cleaning and then carefully passing the towel between your breasts, your chest rose and fell slowly with your calm breathing, Thomas couldn't help but turn his gaze when he saw your breasts with scratches Just like your stomach that had red marks on your waist, his head didn't help him, he imagined what had you been suffer alone there and he wanted to kill slowly and painfully the person who had done that to you.

After all his thought's and after cleaning your legs covered in scratches and your injured knees, Thomas slowly separated your legs, squeezing his jaw looking at how your inner thighs had wounds, scratches that looked red on your skin that looked like porcelain, his hand covered In the damp cloth that every now and then he washed in the warm water, he slowly passed over the marks of the attack, as if he were afraid of hurting you even more than they had already done, your small moans of pain made him retreat in fear, but when he looked at your eyes closed without any sign of wanting to wake up, he returned to his tasks until he left you completely clean, then he took a Luda dress that he carefully put on you as if he were dressing a small doll that could break into a thousand pieces if he barely touched it with his big hands, the dress was too big on you but it covered your body and that was enough for him, he didn't want anyone else to look at you, you were his only and he was going to take care of you with his life.

After a few hours the sky had already begun to darken and your eyes tightened as you woke up in a room that you knew very well, you looked at the ceiling and the old closet on the side of the room, the old lamp on the nightstand was on and a blanket covered your legs, the heavy steps in the corridor made you look towards the door with fear, you knew that in that house you were not in danger but your state made you think that at any minute someone was going to attack you again.

But a large figure that covered almost the entire door frame appeared looking at you, releasing a deep sigh as he walked towards you.

-Tommy?…-your eyes moistened feeling safe, he walks to you letting his knees hit the floor next to the bed while his arms surrounded your waist and despite the pain, your arms surrounded his shoulders while you cried, hiding your face in his neck.

Not long after, Thomas looked at you with his frown, he was angry, more than that, you had never seen him this upset, his hand slowly touched your cheek over the bump and then pointed towards his chest, you knew what that meant, ''who was the one who make you this?'' cause he would be in charge of making them pay.

-I don't know who those men were, Tommy, but they hurt my family, I know that they were the ones who hurt my little sisters and mama - your voice was broken with your crying, his hand touched your face while his breathing sounded heavy - they were …motorcyclists, one had a beard, another was blonde, they were all dressed in leather - your eyes followed his enormous form as he stood up, turning quickly towards the door but your hand did not let go of his, making him stop - Tommy?…what? are you going to do?

He looked straight into your eyes, the blue of his eyes had disappeared, they were black and deep, you had never seen them that way, he just let go of your hand slowly and rushed out, making his heavy footsteps sound as he lowered the stairs.

After a few minutes Luda came up with a tray with tea and a plate of warm food, it looked like stew and smelled good but your stomach hurt from the blows you had received so you barely ate while the woman brushed your hair slowly with her fingers looking at you tenderly.

-Luda…where did Tommy go? - You looked at her curiously while you drank some iced tea that made your throat feel fresh.

-Tommy loves you too much, he would do everything possible for you to make you happy, you know? -She looked at you over her glasses while her hand stopped.

-I know, I would do the same for him but I'm not as big and strong as Tommy is, he takes care of himself and he also takes care of me.

-You're wrong about that honey, he is strong on the outside, my boy was blessed with a huge body that can intimidate anyone who stands in front of him, but on the inside my boy is just a pure soul who doesn't know how to deal with this horrible and disgusting world where we live, that is where you come to protect him, your heart and courage makes my Tommy feel safe and continues to be the strong and brave boy that he is

A small smile formed on your face thinking that you were very lucky to have Thomas in your life, everyone had always been cruel to him, they made fun of his poor ability to speak and his skin was always so sensitive and no one understood it, just You and that was enough, you had gotten used to only having Tommy's attention and affection for you that you wouldn't know how to deal if someone else took a little of his attention away.

That night Thomas did not come home, you spent most of the night looking at the door waiting to see him arrive but he never showed up, only the sound of the crickets and the wind coming through the window accompanied you and little by little you fell asleep between the blankets with its aroma.

It was early in the morning when you heard some murmurs and an argument downstairs that made you wake up.

-You can't do that, you don't know how she's going to take it, she's going to run away from here and accuse us, we would have to kill her too, is that what you want, damned idiot? - you could recognize Charlie's voice from his screams

-Stop calling him that way, he is not an idiot and he knows what he is doing-Luda shouted.

-Thomas, come here you damn bastard - Charlie shouted as loud footsteps went up the stairs that then became light as they approached the room.

There was Thomas, covered in blood, looking at you from the door, when he saw that you were awake, lowering his head thinking about what he would do but also thought if Charlie was right.

-Tommy?…why are you covered in blood? they hurt you? - Your hands rested on the bed, sitting up as fast as the pain allowed, he just shook his head and looked at you again, approaching - Are you okay?

Again his knees rested on the floor next to you while his blue eyes looked at you and his huge hand took yours carefully, his free hand rested on his chest pointing with his finger.

-You? -His hand moved slowly towards you, touching the center of your chest with his finger- me? - He nodded shyly taking both your hands in his, kissing both palms on the mask - I know you wouldn't hurt me, Tommy, you don't have to explain it to me.

He looked at you with relief and stood up offering you his hand to stand up, but when you tried, your sore knees felt like they were melting, making you stumble, Thomas holding you quickly and carefully by your waist.

-I'm fine Tommy… I just…- Thomas didn't let you finish your sentence when with his arm he held the back of your knees lifting you up making your arms quickly surround his neck in fear of falling.

His steps were delicate as he left the room and went down the stairs, three pairs of eyes looked at you, questioning his that you going down was the right thing to do, but Thomas cared little and continued on his way to the basement door.

The place was cold and damp, the walls surrounding the stairs had scratch marks and you could notice a couple of nails stuck in the cement, Thomas walked towards what looked like a work table and carefully sat you in a chair as he walked to a coat rack and took an old apron covered in red stains and put it on him.

-Tommy?…- He didn't pay attention to you for a few seconds, searching for something with his eyes until he took an electric chainsaw from a tool table and walked towards you, taking you again with one of his arms, walking to a place behind a shelf full of jars and he sit you delicately on a wooden table

You could notice three figures hanging from what seemed to be a nail where the animals were hanging in the slaughterhouse and when your eyes adjusted to the darkness you could notice the three men who had attacked you hanging from their tied hands, one of them moaning as they others were unconscious

Your hands quickly covered your face, fear took over your body when you looked at them, feeling the fear of being attacked again but Thomas approached you, took your hand and your scared eyes looked at him while your hands trembled.

-It's them Tommy…it's them - your voice hurts whispered the words when Thomas gently removed his hand and touched your face and then looked at the men, then his hand delicately touched your lap, caressing your wounds over the fabric of the dress and point at the men looking into your eyes - it's… him - your hand pointed at the bearded man

Thomas quickly walked away from you, pulling the motor of the chainsaw hard, turning it on with just two attempts to start it and with both hands he lifted it closed to the man, placing it on the crotch of the bastard who abused your innocence cutting him in half until he reached his neck.

Drops of blood jumped everywhere, Thomas was covered in it and you could feel the warm liquid wet your face.

You couldn't believe what you saw, but you couldn't believe that a feeling of fear didn't take over inside you, you had seen Thomas murder a man but inside you the only thing you felt was satisfaction and a small flight of butterflies, your Tommy, he had spent the entire night looking for the men who harmed his precious girl and was making them pay.

After finishing the first, Thomas looked at you with heavy breathing, he didn't need to say a single word, his eyes spoke for his and you understood his language perfectly

-Him too, Tommy…- you pointed at the blonde man and then touched your chest over the scratches that made your skin look swollen, Thomas didn't think twice when he lifted it again, closed it and moved it over the man, cutting his legs, his waist, his arms making him fall on the wet floor while he screamed in agony and then cut his head, the other man did not seem to react but he was not going to let him leave in peace, so he did the same with him and cut him in half When he finished his work he turned off the chainsaw and walked towards you, leaving it at your side to clean his hands wet with blood on his apron that was equally dirty and wet.

Your heart was beating fast, you were not afraid of Thomas, you did not feel in danger nor did you feel disgusted by him, on the contrary, it seemed that by seeing him perform the sickest actions he had finished convincing you of what you had begun to suspect years ago, what you felt was a deep and true love for the one who had done everything to heal you and defend your dignity.

-You did very well Tommy - you smiled at him, placing your hands on his cheeks over the mask, his blue eyes were so calm that it didn't look like he had finished with three men a few seconds ago, his forehead rested on yours while your fingers caressed his slow hair - thanks for taking care of me

He just gave a light growl as he hugged you around the waist, he wasn't going to let anyone else touch his little cherry, not even the sun could hurt your skin because he would be able to do anything to destroy it.

That afternoon and after Monty had spent the entire previous day making three graves in the back garden, Charlie, Luda, Thomas and you went out to say goodbye to your family, Luda had picked a couple of flowers in the front garden and Charlie surprised you when with his worldly mouth he said some beautiful words to say goodbye to your mama and your little sisters, Tommy never left your side, he was holding your hand, making sure your fragile legs did not collapse and make you fall.

-Well, all that remains us to say welcome to the family y/n, it will be a pleasure for us if you are a Hewitt, what'ya think? -Charlie approached you while Thomas worked hard to cover the graves with the dirt he threw with a shovel.

-Charlie… you shouldn't say that, it's so sudden.- Luda Mae looked at him, scolding him. She knew he wouldn't last long without saying an injudicious comment and she wasn't wrong.

-It's okay, Moma - you smiled at Luda, holding the small flowers waiting to put them on the graves. - It will be a pleasure for me to share Tommy's last name

-You see, mom - Charlie smiled, chewing his tobacco - our Tommy will be happy honey, welcome to the family

You barely placed the small flowers on the three graves and caressed the wood signs where the names of your family could be read, Tommy took your hand, caressing it carefully, with pain in your back you hug him, your arms were barely able to surround his torso as you continued reading over and over again the name on the wood that functioned as a tombstone.

-Do you think it's okay that I'm a Hewitt Tommy? - You raised your head looking at his eyes despite the rays of sun that crossed his long locks of hair, he just looked at you smiling a little making his eyes narrow as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders - Then I won't hesitate to tell everyone I meet that i am Mrs. Hewitt

Your hand took his slowly walking together to the house while you talked about things that he only answered by nodding or shaking his head, just when you were both a couple of steps away from reaching the entrance of the house the sound of tires made you both turn around to look at the car that came down the road approaching you

-Now what this people want? These damn city dwellers get lost and come to disturb my property - Luda Mae sighs, annoyed, looking from the porch.

-Come in Tommy…let me bring you your apron so you can work - you smiled as you entered the house knowing that now the family business needed you.

[bellarkeselection]

hello 🙃this is my first request ever and it's pretty weird but can u do a piece with rip x f! dutton reader when she's pregos with rips bby girl and she either have a little accident with a horse or in danger bc of one of the shows villains like beth and rip goes a little crazy like he how he did it in the car driving to Beth on those 2 guys were beating her.

Comfort from john and rip and fluff at the end also maybe a age gap 😁😁😁plz and thank u

Wheeler's as Tough as a Beer

The rain was hitting the glass windshield harder than I cared for. When I left the doctors office it was only lightly raining and you could hear some thunder in the distance. Gripping the steering wheel I gulped in nervousness feeling the car kind of fighting me when I drove through some puddles. Moving one hand to my phone laying In the cup holder I saw it was my husband calling me. “Hey honey, I’m on my way home now.”

“That’s great. Although the storm is picking up here. What did the doctor say about the baby?” Rip asked through the phone where I could hear the barn door shutting behind him meaning they were putting the horses up before it got worse than it already was.

Using my turn signal I stopped at a red light waiting for it to change to green. "She said everything was good. In about 3 months we should have our baby boy or girl." The ranch was only two different turns and one stop sign before I was back on the family home.

The light finally changed from red to green where I slowly hit the gas pedal. Turning my steering wheel I was making the turn but there was a car coming down from the way I was turning. But the car instead was on the wrong side of the road coming directly at me. “Oh my god, Rip!” I screamed before I attempted to move my car but the wheels hit a big puddle where I swerved and the other car still barreled straight into me.

My head hit the steering wheel harshly before it hit a wooden poll that was for the power lines. My phone got thrown and it shattered the screen. Blinking my eyes I lifted my head when the air bag went off. Looking at the mirror there was blood on my forehead and I gasped feeling sharp pain in my pregnant belly. It would be a few minutes before I blacked out on the wheel. Someone was shaking me lightly making me wake up a few hours after that where I could make out my husband’s voice. “Y/n, y/n! Come on, darling wake up. Don’t die on me.”

“Rip….ahhh!” I winced when I felt him gently picking me up by my knees and underneath my arms. I felt so,e blood running down my side meaning that the air bag or something must have cut me.

He slowly walked me to the ambulance while the medics checked me out. Rip pushed my hair back out of my face crying some tears which he never die really unless we were alone. So the bunkhouse guys knew who was the boss. “Sssh you’re alright now. You’re with me, Y/n.”

“Everything hurts, Rip. And I…I was on my way home and the storm….it got worse….where this car was on the wrong side of the road.” I began sobbing through heavy tears.

He wrapped his arms around my body after the medics had went off to read the tests that they had done. Wrapping my arms around his neck I buried my face in the crook of his neck crying. "Excuse me, Mr. Wheeler. But we need to get your wife to the hospital. The baby she is carrying is in distress." One of the medics came over to us explaining with concern.

Rip immediately got in the back of the ambulance with me laying down on the cot. I grasped his hand tightly in mine while we rushed there. The second that we got there I was rolled in with a wheelchair and a doctor bursts into the room. "We will have to do a C - section if we want to save the baby in you."

"Okay...I love you." I croaked up at Rip squeezing his hands before I was rushed into surgery. I'm not sure how long I was out for but I moaned blinking my eyes feeling the medicine they gave me wearing off. Lifting my head up from the pillow I saw Rip sleeping at my bedside. "Rip...Rip wake up."

He rubbed his eyes where I instantly saw tears in his brown eyes. "Oh my gosh, Y/n. Thank God I was so worried...I love you." He kissed the crown of my head tucking hair behind my ear.

"Rip, where's the baby. Is it okay?" I asked him when he brushed his fingers through my hair that was sticking to my forehead.

He sucked in a breath resting his forehead against mine when he spoke his next words. "The baby is in the nick-u. She came out a premi. But she's beautiful. The doctor said she'll have to be monitored for a while. But she's alive honey...she's here."

"I love you...and I'm glad she's okay." Wrapping my arms around his neck I began crying happy tears. Rip wrapping his arms around my waist holding me as close as we could get. Releaved that his family was alright.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Boundless Breeding

Male Reader x Kang Hyewon

Length: 2344 words

Tags: the definition of breeding, various positions, Master play, dom/sub dynamic, rough sex with impregnation, teasing, spanking, begging, riding, doggy, mating press, multi orgasm, overstimulation, a lot of insults and degradation, Daddy kink, preggo!Hyewon

TW: Breeding kink, but with consequences, degradation, allusions to Master/Slave dynamic / Hyewon being owned

Inspiration: @sooyadelicacies and I mentioned this in "Torrential Takeover" and now... we made it come true. I think OC made sure that Hyewon is REALLY pregnant lmao

Credit: @sooyadelicacies ofc, my co-writer for the series!

(A/N: This takes place right after "Punitive Punishment", and this time, we wanted to make sure that it's not overboard in terms of length lol. Enjoy!)

"Hey! Daddy where are you—"

Yujin's whine is cut off by you slamming the apartment door shut. No time to deal with her now. In all honesty, she hasn't earned it yet. A night of no sex will show her that you are able to enforce a punishment. 

The elevator doors open and close. To stand in this tiny space, not being able to speed up the process or do something meaningful in between, it feels like a real-life loading screen. You roll your eyes. Doors open and close.

The car is not that much different. Sure, you are in full control and need to drive it yourself, but with all the experience you have and empty roads ahead, it's just more or less the same. A waste of time, something to groan over. Money can't buy a teleporter if it doesn't exist. A helicopter though, you think with a sigh.

It will be worth it though. Jump out of the car and sprint over to the tall apartment complex. It will be worth it soon. Another elevator ride, but this time you are too distracted by the tightness in your dress pants. It'll be so worth it. Loosen your tie and knock on the apartment door. So worth it.

"Master! I'm so happy you came!"

What a surprise. A surprise that was definitely worth it. 

Hyewon, powerful idol, business woman, CEO—her rise has been steep and it was always evident in her new clothes. From the unique idol costumes, to more expensive dresses and lastly, the suits with ridiculous price tags. She probably wore a new, hand tailored one every day.

But now, for you, it's all different. Hyewon wears a gray hoodie, at least a size too big for her slender frame, as well as a pair of dolphin shorts. Her hair is in a simple ponytail, messy but not completely out of control. Excitedly, she sways from one leg to the other and plays with the hem of her hoodie. 

"I did not expect my slut to look this... casual," you murmur after catching your breath. With every step you take into the apartment, Hyewon backs off more and more. She is diligent to keep a respectful distance between herself and her master. 

"Master, you don't like it? I'm so sorry! I will immediately change into—"

"I didn't say that," you laugh and take a quick step to close the distance. A glass door right behind Hyewon prevents her from keeping the distance, so you relish in her fearful, begging, needy eyes as you caress her tender cheek. She is smaller than you, but like this, she is downright tiny, miniscule, nothing. A hole, she admitted it herself. 

"Hm, but maybe a costume would be better. How about a cow or some bunny ears. That would be more fitting," you whisper and pinch her cheek. 

"Anything for Master, I'll get right to it," Hyewon says with fake enthusiasm that can't hide her uncertainty and mind-controlling, desperate desire. This otherworldly feeling of power over her, to control everything, down to the one final thing she wants, keeps you from taking her on the spot.

"No, too late. Get on your knees and crawl, bitch. I won't lie, I'm a bit disappointed thus far."

Hyewon is obedient. Her bare knees touch the cold floor and her hands follow suit. You open the class door and she gets the point. In a hurry she moves deeper into her open space apartment. 

"This place looks quite impressive. Who owns it?" you ask.

"Master does," Hyewon responds and continues to crawl closer to the couch area. 

You reach for your bitches shorts and yank them down. A firm, quick smack on her bare buttocks makes Hyewon squirm and wince. Literally nothing of her former power remains when you’re around. Hit her ass again just for that cute, submissive voice to return.

"M-Master..."

"This ass is not bad either. Who owns it?"

"My Master does. He owns all of me."

"Oh~" you hum with a smirk and sit down on one of the many couches you didn't even know you own. A snap of your fingers later, Hyewon wiggles herself in between your parted legs. The shorts around her thighs make every move difficult. 

"Hyewon," you say calmly, your smirk fading into a much more wholesome smile, "you can stand up and take them off. You are so tense, God, it's painful to watch. And not the sexy kind of pain."

"Th-thank you, Master."

Hyewon gets up and pulls off the black shorts from her gorgeous legs. You reach for her thighs and pull her closer. Her perfectly smooth, already moist pussy touches your knee, then your thigh. The fabric of your trousers rubs over her core and a pent-up moan comes from Hyewon's mouth. 

"My slut likes that, huh?" you say teasingly and softly nibble on her earlobe. Hyewon has not been touched since the fateful meeting that changed both your lives. Soon, you'll be one of the richest people in the country, from a millionaire CEO to a billionaire with a monopoly.

Meanwhile Hyewon went a very different path, from a prodigy of the business world to a toy that just wants to be filled with cum. Your cum, the stuffing you did not pump into her the last time. She wants it so badly.

"Hm, Master. It f-feels good."

"Good, then I'll make you cum."

A second of silence. Surprise and disappointment are in Hyewon's eyes, but she hesitates to open her mouth to speak up, instead she moans at your touch. You grab her waist gently and drag her body up and down your thigh. The friction on her pussy makes Hyewon whine.

"B-but I thought M-Master wanted—"

"No, you wanted it. You begged for it back then, but it looks like you've changed your mind."

Hyewon cups her mouth as her moans get louder. She certainly enjoys this already, probably even more so because of her deprivation for sex. Only when you feel for her tummy and tits beneath the hoodie does she respond.

"N-no, I—your bitch still wants to be bre-bred. Please, Master, p-put your semen in me."

Slap her ass once, twice, then move to the other cheek. You repeat the process and tug at her messy ponytail. Before you roughly bite her delicious looking, luscious lips. You growl straight into her anxious face:

"Beg, you dumb whore. Beg for it, beg for me."

Hyewon screams. Your teeth dig into her fragile flesh and your fingers attack every inch of her fuckable body. She is so sensitive, the flurry of feelings makes her mind go haywire. Your bites move down her chin to her collarbone, when Hyewon's voice becomes louder than ever before:

"Master, I'm your toy, your cow. I'm nothing without your cock, please fill me so I can be something!"

"More!"

"I need to smell like your seed and gush it all over the place. I need you to fuck me, Master, fuck your heir into me. Breed Hyewon, please!"

You open up the tight prison that are your pants. At the same time, Hyewon gets rid of the hoodie that has left her upper body all sweaty. She is in heat, physically incapable of anything else before your manhood spears her open. Luckily, you set your cock free and immediately place it on Hyewon's needy pink lips. A flick on her labia, and she begins to cry.

"Please, Master, I'm your sex toy, your bitch. Fuck me—ah!"

You push upwards, into Hyewon, while guiding her down onto you at the same time. Before you are even fully inside, she wants to bounce on it, but you keep her waist in place with rough hands on her smooth skin. Give her a pissed look and she falters. Hyewon remains still as your cock goes deeper and deeper. Before you reach her cervix, you give her tits a hard slap and her cry is a double high note.

"What should you say, bitch?" you ask, unimpressed by her writhes and sways on your lap or the way her hands hold onto your knees for dear life. There is enough evidence for you to believe that Hyewon is in fact already close to an overstimulating orgasm. Good.

"Th-thank you, Master."

The tight grip of her lingers on you for a bit. You've only fucked her once, which means that she still feels unique, exceptionally suffocating to your already well-used cock. Combined with her fabulous body and stunning face that has already melted to your will, it helps you enter a stage where there is nothing but fucking, nothing but breeding on your mind.

Pound upwards. Hyewon begins to bounce as well. Your voices combine in a duet of unintelligible sounds of pure bliss. Wet pussy juice and pre-cum leak fast, you're basically forcing it out. You need to pump into her, need her to ride as long as she can. It won't be long and she will be limp. You put one of Hyewon's bouncing tits in your mouth. The other gets twisted gently, roughly, somehow. All for her to go faster, become tighter.

“Ah, Master, s-so good," Hyewon babbles and tries to go faster. It's funny to think that she is simultaneously giving it her all to ride you, while her walls suck you in so hard that she can barely move past the friction.

"Hm, you like to be bred so hard," you say, your voice failing to formulate it as a question, but they way her entire body perfectly milks you, it might as well be fact. 

The well-known knot in your stomach is under your full control, just like the bitch on your lap. Yes, this power is incredible, control absolutely superb, but if you're honest to yourself, you don't mind cumming uncontrollably, all the time, deep inside. You let go.

"Fuck, Hyewon, I'm gonna—"

"Yes, Master, fill me! Breed me!"

You reach for her shoulders and press her down. Hyewon screams next to your ear when your nibble at her jaw is a sudden bite. Her heavy gushing cannot stop your first filling of her child-bearing organs. A sticky, wet sensation engulfs you, engulfs her mind. Hyewon went limp too fast.

Limp or not, you go for more. This is not enough to be certain, hell, it's basically like you're just about to start. Remove Hyewon from your lap, ignore the way she twitches in the aftermath of her orgasm. You bend her over the living room table. It's a bit too small to recreate the view from when you first fucked her in "her" office, but perfect to see her ass high up. She looks so fuckable, even from behind.

You insert yourself again and fuck not only your cock, but also all the cum deep, deep, deeper into Hyewon. After a shriek, she stays breathless at first, but after a minute of unrelenting drilling, she begins to cry. The overstimulation got to her.

"M-Master too-too much!"

"Are you sure you want me to stop—" you hiss viciously while pulling at her hair, "—while I give you this gift of a child?"

"Ah, n-no," Hyewon shouts through her tears. You let go of her hair and spank her rippling ass.

"I thought so."

You reach in between her legs and through your pistoning find her sensitive nub. You rub it with all the wetness of Hyewon's juices and she orgasms again. Involuntairly, her body rocks back and forth to make your fucking even faster. Her cunt once again grips for dear life, it even heats up—okay that might just be your second load, which you dump into her at that moment. 

Usually your mind gets dazed after this much sex with a rollercoaster of climaxes, but just like in a bad Wattpad-Smut, you go for one more round. You wish it would be as big as in those stories, but it's more or less just an excuse to push seed into Hyewon's womb and fall into a delirium of overstimulation.

You spin Hyewon around and place her back onto the couch. She is drooling, whimpering, her marvelous face just a mess of contortions and sweat. With no regards to her flexibility or consequences to potential aches all over her legs, you put Hyewon in a mating press and continue to fuck her. It hurts your spent cock, but her pussy is a perfect pool of warmth and tightness you won't leave yet.

"Master, Master!" Hyewon cries out, her voice crooked. 

"Soon, when you finally fulfill your purpose, you can call me Daddy, cow!"

Your hips work significantly slower, but with more intent. The penetration does not end at random spots. Your cockhead deliberately hits deep, and Hyewon's body jerks with each hard, stimulating attack. Her hands bounce the same way her voluptuous bosom does. Wet noises, mostly queefs from her pussy dominate this song of mating. Moans and groans have been replaced by elaborate breaths and the occasional peek when you hit Hyewon's cavern hard enough.

It's all over soon. Things will be set in motion that cannot be undone. The world-famous, wildly beloved ex-idol is now bound to become pregnant. Her glorious, flat tummy will become concave. Your companies are about to merge, and in the midst of this massive, complicated process with lawyers and data and all the other boring bullshit, something wonderful happens. Sure, it's dirty and seems loveless, but Hyewon's glistening orbs tell a different story.

Tears stream down her face as she pulls you into a hug. Her cunt sucks the last droplets of fertile baby batter out of your balls. You are empty, but she is overflowing.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Master," she coos and wails as you collapse. Exhaustion hits you like a train, a hydrogen bomb, a fucking meteor. You crawl onto the couch and fall into a dream, a dream where Hyewon is happy, grateful, with a child in her arms.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I surely lost my mind.

[kupkate04]

A Hapless Endearment || Creepypasta x F. Reader || Ch. 1 - To Grandmother's House We Go

—Quick author's note—

I'm sure you all know the drill by now, but for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y/n = Your name

L/n = Last name

N/n = Nickname

H/c = Hair color

E/c = Eye color

F/c = Favorite color

B/m = Birth month

S/t = Skin tone

B/s = Body shape

B/c = Blush color

L/c = Lip color

H/l = Hair length

Also, I try to leave Y/n up to interpretation as much as I can, although some things will still be assumed about her, whether that be the kind of food she likes or her style of clothing, etc. It's difficult for me to fully write for a character who's a "blank slate", just thought you should know! Enjoy reading~

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

She exudes an inaudible sigh, propping her jaw in her palm and gazing through the somewhat smudged surface of the glass. Trees and houses of varying sizes whiz by, blurring together and composing an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun sits high on its invisible throne above. Its warm, golden rays break through an army of fluffy clouds, capturing the atmosphere in a brilliant, cheery radiance.

Struggling to imagine the clouds morphing into fun, inspiring shapes due to her current lack of concentration, she frowns, letting her discouraged eyes fall. The engine hums, the AC whirs, and wheels scrape the asphalt below, bringing the passengers closer to their destination. They've halted a few times to allow everyone a chance to stretch their legs and collect themselves, which has been Y/n's saving grace. Still, after ten hours of riding, her muscles are stiff and she is more than eager to be free from the confinement of this chatter-brimmed bus. Nestled in her lap is a backpack, and below the seat, directly behind her legs, lies her duffel bag; both have been stuffed with an assortment of clothes and other items she deemed imperative to bring along. 

Headphones have been diligently positioned over her ears, the tunes that flood from which manage to block out most of the incessant noise surrounding her–including the ungodly snores of the man to her left. She fiddles with the wire, twirling it absentmindedly around her finger as she stares at the window frame, her mind wandering aimlessly amidst a blanket of fog. Languidly glimpsing to the side reveals her seating buddy has his head resting on the back of the bench, eyes closed and mouth hanging wide open. It's a wonder he hasn't caught a fly in there yet.

Ah, well. At least he doesn't stink.

She lets the dirty glass support her temple, her eyes threatening to seal shut. She's barely seized a wink of sleep throughout the course of this little road trip and her body is beginning to feel the full effects of it. Pondering momentarily how much longer it will be until they reach the station, a fleeting peek at her phone screen informs her of the time: 6:44 in the evening. The bus left at 6:30, so there shouldn't be much time remaining. Gosh, she can't wait to stand again. She's not even sure she remembers what her feet feel like.

She succumbs to the temptation to yawn quietly, giving her drooping eyes a reprieve. She thinks about what she's going to do when the bus parks and she saunters through the folding doors to reunite with her grandparents. It's been so many years since she saw them last. She was...nine? 

Memories of her childhood have grown faint, but she can recall how happy she always was around them; how much boundless joy they brought her simply by existing. They were never neglectful, impatient, or spiteful, no–only caring and affectionate and overflowing with love. She's missed having that kind of positive influence in her life. It's been hovering in the distance for so long, just out of reach. Taunting her. 

But now it doesn't matter, because she's coming back. She's finally going to see them again. 

It's unfortunate that it took seven years to convince her father to let her return. He's so swaddled in his needless resentment and self-pity that it's blinded him. She doesn't understand how he could care so little–be so detached from the two people who raised him with every ounce of adoration they possessed because of some silly disagreement a few years prior.

She isn't certain what transpired exactly; all she knows is the vague comments she was told by her mother. It was likely an argument based around the roads he was traversing to make an income, as it seems highly in-character for him to get offended by something so trivial. Knowing him, he blew their moral concerns out of proportion, pitched a hissy fit, and vowed never to speak to them again, dragging his daughter and wife into the crossfire. 

It was that reason and that reason alone why Y/n had to wait until she was sixteen to pay dear Nana and Pops a visit. He only relented because she wouldn't stop bothering him about it for two weeks straight after she found out both her parents would be out of the country during the summer for their jobs. She didn't want to be stuck at home for three months without any friends to spend time with, and she didn't want to go back to camp either, so traveling to Alabama for a summer vacation seemed like the only logical solution. They dropped her off with some money on their way to the airport, she bought a ticket, boarded the elongated vehicle, and that was that.

Her father had been less than enthused on the matter, and she recalls his torpid, irked expression reflecting in the rear-view mirror of the car as they pulled up to the bus stop. Her mother, on the other hand, was rather indifferent; far too invested in whatever messages lit up the screen of her phone to concern herself with domestic conflict. Y/n could only imagine which one of her flings she was texting this time, as situations involving her work certainly never gained her attention so fiercely.

A melancholic indignancy bubbles up within the girl's chest at the countless encounters she's had with her mom as of late that involved puny excuses, middle-of-the-night departures, and poorly-disguised secrets. She's never outright confirmed it, but her behavior is undeniably suspicious. She smiles more at her phone than she does when she's ever with her husband, and her 'husband' in question doesn't even seem to notice—or, if he does, simply doesn't care. Y/n hates it. Her family is falling apart at the seams and she's powerless to stop it. 

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and she desires to spit the foul taste out, though only swallows and chews the inside of her cheek, attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something, anything lighthearted; a memory that contains laughter, joy, fondness. However, she finds nothing. She’s unable to remember a delightful moment between herself and her parents that took place recently. A time when her father outwardly expressed happiness or her mother was shamelessly candid.

It's a distressing realization to approach, that her family hasn’t acted as a true family since she was twelve years old; only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn’t sure the exact minute that it happened, nor does she have a specific reason as to why it happened. All she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until the feeling of inevitable abandonment seeped in.

She tried to communicate with them, collapse their walls and get them to allow their only child back in, though each time without fail, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. It became apparent she was getting nowhere with them, so after many fruitless attempts, she threw her hands up in surrender.

The example they set was not a good one, yet she couldn't help but subconsciously follow their lead. She grew emotionally drained, jaded—bordering depressed, even. Suddenly, maintaining any relationships outside of her home became a chore; a nearly impossible task that needed more energy than what she was willing to sacrifice. The more her friends noticed her inner turmoil, the more they tried to help, and the more she pushed them away. After all, if her parents didn't care, why should she?

She would get over this miserable hump eventually, and she would do it alone. Cutting contact with her dearest companions was an easier feat than one would expect, as it was accidental and gradual and she always affirmed herself with the fact that it wasn't permanent. She could always get in touch later. But weeks passed, and then months, and she made no effort to do that. At some point, she convinced herself that they wouldn't take her back now anyway. It had been too long, and she had treated them coldly. She wouldn't want to be friends with her, either—there was too much drama and emotional baggage.

It feels as if the person she once was fades from reality a little more every passing day, becoming invisible among people and society as a whole, including herself. Somewhere in the back of her troubled mind lays her positive outlook on life, and it's been locked in a box with the key thrown away. 

Now sixteen years of age, she still struggles with these ill-fated circumstances and her dilapidated mental state but has learned to drive a vast majority of it into the chasms of her brain, leaving her an empty, aggrieved husk.

She blinks, reemerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the large vehicle she sits in turn off the main stretch of road and park in front of a building—the Fairfield bus station. She's here.

Despite the otherwise displeasing series of events that lead up to this, she feels a glint of excitement, pausing her music and gingerly removing her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f/c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing.

Eagerly, she bends over to reach below the seat and lift up her dufflebag in preparation before glancing out the window, e/c irises gleaming in the rays of sun. The bus brakes, the door is slid open, and several of the passengers rise. She isn't far behind, throwing her bags over her shoulder and squeezing past the man's broad legs, being careful not to thwack him upside the head with her luggage as she does so. He's barely disturbed, stirring for a few seconds before drifting off back to the realm of dreams. Merging into the middle aisle, she tries to control her rapidly-beating heart as she treads to the exit, being mindful of the people surrounding her in every feasible direction. 

How will Nana and Pops react to seeing her again, after all this time? Will they still love her? She has changed in significant ways, and not necessarily for the better, either. Surely that won't deter them, right? Of course not. I'm one of their only grandchildren. They won't stop caring about me just cause I've grown up.

Though her pep-talk does little to soothe a new wave of anxieties that wash over her like an angry tsunami. 

Oh gosh. What if it's super awkward?

She maneuvers down the stairs and makes distance between herself and the mode of transportation, scanning the crowd to locate the elderly pair her thoughts center around. A whirl of nervousness penetrates her stomach, her brows knitting together subtly. 

What if they've changed? What if they're just like Dad?

But as she meets the warm brown eyes of Nana from afar and notices the giant, surprised smile stretching across her features, all doubt withers away, and she offers a meek wave. The lady bumps the arm of the hefty man sitting next to her to gather his attention before she springs to her feet and sprints to greet Y/n, her expression contorted into one of pure bliss. A small grin tugs at Y/n's face, and she stands idle, taking into account Nana's appearance as she hurries forward. 

She’s adorning a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes down to her shins. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, fine hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only clue Y/n in on how old she must be getting, now.

"Y/n!" Nana calls out, voice brimmed with exhilaration as she dodges other pedestrians before reaching out and enveloping the h/c in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around her frame and reeling her in as close as she can. Her actions almost knock both of them to the ground, but Y/n balances herself before she can stumble and reciprocates the gesture. 

"Hi, Nana," she says, tone more genial than it's been in a long time. A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; a peaceful aroma, a mixture of strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm soon after, squeezing her grandmother’s scrawny torso with as little force as required so she doesn’t somehow injure her. 

Pops joins his wife with a notably calmer pace and snakes his arms around the two smaller individuals, his slightly yellowed teeth apparent through his beam. A stout man of classic tastes, he wears a 1950s fedora, a baby blue collared shirt, and suspenders. His hold is strong and secure and Y/n feels an almost overwhelming sense of comfort slam into her without warning. She chuckles—a soft, elated sound—and her chest is flooded with gleeful fuzziness. It's certainly an odd, foreign type of feeling, but she accepts it nonetheless. "Welcome home, kiddo."

"We've missed you so much," Nana chirps, pulling away after what has to be a solid two minutes and prompting Pops to do the same. Her wrinkled hands grasp her shoulders before sliding up to cup her face, gently tilting it upward to get a better look. A stunned expression crawls across her attributes before it’s replaced by a wider—if it’s even viable—smile. “Oh, you’ve grown so much!” She turns her head. “Phil, do you see her?”

“Aye. I sure do,” he says with a proud nod of his head. “She’s just as pretty as she was the last time she visited.” Blush dusts itself along the apples of her cheeks and she averts her line of sight, embarrassed. He chuckles. “Just as bashful, too.”

“Leave her alone.” She pivots again to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. “We’ve missed you, sweetie. It’s been too long.” Y/n nods timidly, not accustomed to being so doted on. Behind her, the wheels of the bus grind against the asphalt as it leaves shortly after the doors close, and she twists her head around just in time to see it drive away, leaving her there for the summer. There's no other place she'd rather be, and their presence is only confirming those feelings. "We have so much catching up to do! I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.” She looks back at the old woman and feels her squeeze her arm. “How old are you now? Fifteen?”

“She looks more grown-up than that,” Phil comments, and Y/n shrugs, biting her lip.

“Uh, I...turned sixteen in B/m.”

“My word!” Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. “You’re practically an adult, already!”

“Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah,” he says, and Y/n’s eyes light up at the mention of the familiar feline.

“Marshmallow?” she questions, astonished enthusiasm coursing through her, once again. “He’s still alive?”

“Why, yes, he is,” Farrah laughs as if amused by her inquiry. “Getting on up there, though. I’m a little shocked to know you remember him.”

“Of course I remember him,” she says, the volume of her voice increasing with glee. “He’s my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me...”

“I’m sure he does,” Phil says. “He was always followin’ you around. Probably cause you spoiled him all the time with leftovers.” The corners of her mouth pull upward and she rubs the back of her neck.

“Well...he needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled.”

“Very true.” Farrah smiles.

“And yet I can’t even have a dog in the house,” he grumbles playfully. “You cat lovers don’t make any sense.”

“We don’t have to ‘make sense’,” Farrah says. “Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

“Sure, sure.” He waves her off. “You treat that cat better than you do me.”

“Well, you’re not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?” She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs.

“I can lay in your lap if that’s what you want.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, c’mon woman, make up your mind!”

“My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear.” She tugs Y/n to her and begins walking toward the grey-blue Toyota Corolla that sits motionless in the parking lot, and the teenager follows, readjusting the bags hanging on her shoulder. 

“You want me to carry those for you?” Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widening, taken off-guard by the abrupt offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

“N-no thanks, Pops. I got it.”

“Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy.” 

“Um...clothes and stuff,” she replies quietly as they reach the 2007 vehicle, Nana shuffling into the passenger's seat and Pops opening the back door for her. She tosses her luggage to the opposite side and climbs in, smiling up at him to signal that she's done. He nods in acknowledgement and shuts the door, soon claiming the area behind the steering wheel and cranking the engine. The interior of the car smells like lavender, thanks to the cardboard air freshener swaying below the rear-view mirror, and the beige-toned leather lining the seats is torn in various places, no doubt because of how many years it has under its belt. 

"You got any'a that modern technology that kids use nowadays?"

The air conditioning blasts through the vents to cool the space as he puts the car in reverse to back out of the lot before shifting the gear, navigating between other automobiles, and driving onto the highway. Y/n clicks her buckle into place and twiddles her thumbs, jerking her shoulders up lightly, though she knows he won't be able to see it. "I—I mean, I have a cellphone, if that's what you're asking..."

"A cellphone, huh?" He eyes her in the mirror and she shrinks away meekly, unsure of how to react to the sincere attention. "We have one of those. Don't really know how to work it though."

"You sure do know your way around Solitaire for someone who doesn't know how a phone works." Nana's light jab makes him scoff playfully as he stares through the windshield observantly. 

"You know what, Little Miss Sassypants? Yeah, I do. That app is the only reason I ever even pick it up."

"And when you do, you're playing it for three hours straight."

"It's enjoyable!" Huffing, he shoots her a glare of faux annoyance. "Don't act like you ain't got things that you spend hours at a time doing."

"My hobbies are productive, as opposed to yours, so that excludes me from this discussion."

"That sounds like code for 'I know I'm losing so I'm gonna back out now before I'm called out on it'."

"False." She flattens out her skirt and narrows her eyes at him. "I don't speak in code, dear."

He laughs gruffly at that sentence, plainly not buying her words. "Keep thinkin' that, sweetheart." 

The frisky banter has Y/n failing to suppress a grin, having forgotten how well her grandparents get along, and why they've stayed married for almost sixty years. If only Mom and Dad had that kind of chemistry. Maybe then their home wouldn't be so void of love and life every waking moment. 

"So how was the trip, Y/n?" Nana twists around to the best of her ability to catch a glimpse of her granddaughter, seeming to completely brush the mini argument aside and spare Y/n her undivided recognition, eyes touching base with her own. 

"It was okay," she mumbles, voice just loud enough for them to understand her. "I'm ready to stop riding for a while, though."

"I'm sure. You traveled a long way. I'm glad you stayed safe."

Pops decides to contribute to the conversation. "How's your dad doin'?"

Her face scrunches up faintly as she racks her brain for a suitable answer that won't draw any concerned feedback. "Uh... He's busy. Him and Mom both."

"Figured that much. Probably why they're leaving the country in the first place, huh?"

Her gaze drops to her knees. "Yeah..." 

"Do they do that often?" Nana asks, her tone curious. "Take trips for their job?"

"That's like, forty percent of what they do..." She registers the car turning left sharply, onto a dirt road that leads into a capacious patch of forestry. They pass a faded blue and white sign, and the letters in bold printed across its surface reveals: Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Wow, almost there already.

"But, um...it's usually not so far away," she continues her previous statement as they drive over gravel and rocks in their path, making the ride a little bumpy. "Not usually for such a long time, either."

"They still workin' for the same company?" Pops says. If Y/n were to listen extra closely, she'd be able to detect the tiniest hint of enmity masked within his voice. She blows a bubble into her cheek.

"Yeah, but it got sold to another corporate body a couple years ago and they changed a lot of things. So both of them have been on duty a lot more since then."

"I bet that's been stressful." 

"It's..." She could speak the truth, but the truth would dampen the mood, so she goes for a lighter alternative. "It's fine. They don't mind some extra work. Just means more money in the bank."

Pops mutters something under his breath, but Y/n can't decipher it. She can only assume it isn't anything particularly nice, based on the conversation that elicited it. 

Before she can dwell on it for too extensive of a period, a familiar, Victorian-style cottage becomes visible, and a ghost of a smile sweeps across her features as she perks up. Around the house lies a white picket fence, fringed with beautiful flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and coiled themselves around each individual post, giving it an engagingly untamed appearance.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door perches an intricate white arch made of wicker and intertwined with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a muted shade of cyan, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the glittery stream of sun. The window frames are white, their shutters open to allow optical access inside of the home, and stained glass roses rim the transparent pane.

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales crept out of its pages and sprung into existence, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for Pops to guide the Toyota off the road so she can jump out and get re-acquainted with it all.

I forgot how incredible this place was... She unbuckles, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation as the car comes to a stop in their driveway, a few feet from the gate and underneath a willow tree. She extends her hand hastily to grasp the door handle and swings it open, the early summer breeze caressing her skin as she hops out, the bottom of her shoes making contact with vivid green grass. She steals a big whiff of the unpolluted air, natural scents swirling through her nostrils as she drags her belongings out of the car and slings them over her shoulder once again.

Nana copies her movements and Pops isn't too far behind her. She gives her an encouraging pat on the back, then motions for her to trail after her as she moves toward the arched gateway, unlatching it to grant her entrance. "Wait till you see the dinner I'm whipping up, Y/n," Nana says as they walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble. "You still like pineapple casserole, right?"

"Yes," Y/n says with no hesitation, the very image of the dish making her mouth water. Although she hadn't had the privilege of eating it in years, one thing she can remember clearly is how delicious it was—then again, everything Nana cooks is delicious, so maybe that point is moot. On either side of the orderly pathway are two rows of tulips, comprising pink, white, red, and violent, perfectly maintained. It astounds her how her grandparents can keep the garden so alluring while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape. They surely tidied up before she arrived, but they're also the kind of people who like a neat living space, so she doubts they had to do much. 

"I'm so happy to hear that!" She claps cheerfully as they reach the painted oak door, and both females make room for Pops as he conquers the porch stairs and wrenches the screen toward him, the creaking of its old and unoiled hinges evoking a sound similar to a screech. He rifles around in his pocket, pulls out the keys, and unlocks the entrance, holding it open as his wife and granddaughter stride through. 

Y/n examines the property in wonder. Along the floor lies a hand-knitted rug, shaped like a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. On her left is a vacant doorway to the living room, with a vintage floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the front door are two chairs; one matching the couch and the other a darker, less feminine material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and beneath it is a hickory plank floor.

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a wooden table and four chairs slid neatly on every side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are transparent and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight ahead is a linear staircase;  she remembers it leading up to the bedrooms and the second bathroom. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that curls around the edges of the room; the refrigerator and the oven both fit snugly.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs, and in the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses, a casserole dish, and a couple of pots.

The fragrance of honeysuckle crawls into her nose, as well as the smell of a currently-cooking turkey, mixing and creating a rainstorm of nostalgia. She almost cries from raw mirth. I really missed it here...

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new—but amicable—surroundings. “If you need me, I'll be finishing up dinner.” Y/n gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that bombard her.

Her eyes sweep over everything in reverence as she comes to a halt in front of the staircase, glimpsing back at her grandmother with a sheepish demeanor and parting her lips. “Um...am I staying in Aunt Darcy's old room? Or somewhere else?” A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah’s eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

Farrah nods as Pops shuts the door, blocking the bright sunlight and capturing the area in a bit more darkness. “Yes, that's where you can sleep, store your things, anything. Of course, your dad's room is available too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly band posters."

She breathes a quiet laugh. “Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy’s room will be fine." She spins on her heel and begins her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The concept of being in her father’s childhood bedroom doesn’t sit right in her stomach. “Thank you, Nana.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with your bags?” she questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y/n’s ears. “They look awfully heavy.”

“No, it’s okay, I got ‘em,” she reassures, attaining the top step and taking a moment to pilot the somewhat narrow space before her. On the floor is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway; to her immediate right is a small, polished table that supports a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left ajar, divulging a bit of the interior and reminding her that this is indeed where she’s going.

She uses her free hand to push it open, lighting up when she wanders inside. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, with a floor crafted out of ash wood planks that complements the design and hues nicely. On the opposite side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubbyhole into the wall and at a direct angle next to a window. Built into the wall are two bookshelves, both on either side of the bed and filled with colorful books of assorted sizes.

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer which she recalls to be a trundle bed. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with some twine. In one corner, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside to cushion it. To her right is a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer clinging to its top edge. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernible.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A chipped desk sits pressed against the wall, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp stands atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools; a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a glass paperweight, and a mirror.

She releases an inaudible sigh, the corners of her lips quirking up into a content smile as she walks further inside, depositing her bags on the bed and doing a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation arises within her chest; one she hasn’t experienced in far too long. She turns her head and gazes through the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun’s stunning yellow beams peer down through the towering trees.

She unzips her duffle bag and removes a pile of clothes from the main compartment, busying herself over the course of the next thirty minutes. The walk-in closet isn't huge but still larger than she remembered, meaning there's plenty of space to store all of her clothing pieces. She takes note of the fact that a vast majority of her aunt's stuff is no longer here, and she presumes Nana removed them to create space or Darcy herself came by and collected everything. Y/n hangs a good half of her items and keeps the rest folded, stuffing them into the shelf of drawers across from the door. She refrains from unpacking her art supplies and other accessories just yet, as it would feel weird and wrong to get so comfortable here after so little time. 

After throwing her—now empty—bag into the corner, her stomach rumbles and she concludes that the last thing she ate was a honey bun, and that was hours ago. Yearning to ease her mild sense of famine, she pivots, leaves the room, and descends the stairs, once again being swathed by the pleasant smell of food, only this time, it's much more intense.

Farrah sends Y/n an affectionate smile as she turns off the oven and waves her in. “Hi, sweetie. Are you settling in okay?” The teenager nods, letting the smell lure her, and steps inside.

“Yes, ma'am. I had forgotten how nice this house was.” The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates on the counter and passing it to her. She takes it in her hands and shoots her a look of gratitude.

"It isn't as clean as I would like it to be, but oh well. I'm too old to dust away every little cobweb." She sighs in disbelief, eyes twinkling. "Maybe I should hire a maid."

"That might be a good idea. You don't wanna overdo yourself." Nana occupies herself with making a plate of food for her husband, listening to Y/n talk and humming along. "But, uh...while I'm here, I'd be happy to help you with anything you have to get done."

"How sweet of you to offer, N/n." She grins as she scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto the dish. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, please—eat something. It's all ready."

"Thanks for this, Nana." She finds her way around the woman and gets a serving of everything—potatoes, turkey, rolls, pineapple casserole. The thought of indulging herself makes her want to melt. "It smells delicious." 

"Oh, you're so welcome, dear." She pours a glass of milk for Pops and offers a toothy smile. "I hardly ever get to cook for anyone besides your grandfather and myself. This is an honor."

Y/n feels compelled to hug her again, but ultimately resists the urge, not wishing to take a chance on spilling the food being held in both sets of hands. Tears threaten to rim her eyes, her grip tightening on the plate. Such displays of selflessness is a stranger to her, but she cherishes every second of it. "I love you, Nana."

She fails to see the way Farrah's heart swells at her words, her face contorting into one of deep adoration. "Oh, I love you too, Y/n—me and Phil both. So much. And we're so happy you wanted to come visit us."

After a short exchange of smiles, Nana departs and Y/n finishes gathering her meal, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge and heading into the dining room, noticing Pops already sitting at the table, silently awaiting his own share of food. She lowers herself into the chair opposite him, the steam from the hot meal floating up into her face and making her eager to taste it. 

“Hello, young lady,” he greets, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. “This house treatin' you okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies with a slight dip of her head.

“Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you’re used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations.” Her eyes widen almost a comical amount and she stares at him as if he’d attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes with her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

“No, Pops, it does. The country’s amazing.” She brushes a strand of h/c hair behind her ear and swallows the flavorful vegetable. “City life isn’t that good. Honestly, I’d rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse.” A large, satisfied smile takes residence on his wrinkled features and his eyes crinkle up before he laughs blissfully.

“You hear this, Farrah?” He regards the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her spouse and passing his plate to him. “This girl hasn’t been tainted yet. We should keep her here, make sure she stays that way.”

A kind grin etches across her lips, though she dismisses him. “I don’t think her parents would approve of that, Phil.”

“No, they wouldn’t care,” Y/n murmurs in response, noticing the pitying looks being thrown her way, and she eats a forkful of casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that’s fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the platter in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetie.” Farrah’s voice is tender and reaffirming. Y/n only shrugs.

“They'd probably forget I was here at all, after a while. Too caught up in their own lives to really remember something like that.” Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b/c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just watches her with sympathy.

“That’s shameful,” he starts, his voice flooded with disdain. “You're their daughter. How could they just forget about you?"

“I...I don't know. They just can, and have gotten pretty great at it, too.”

“When did all this start, sweetheart?” the old woman questions, sipping her drink.

“A few years ago, I guess...” It’s silent for several moments and Y/n wishes she wouldn’t have even interjected at all. Perhaps she just feels that she can tell them anything. Way to ruin the mood, genius.

“Hun, they’re not...abusing you, or anything, right?” The teenager can sense the reluctance in her words as if she’s afraid to hear the answer, and Y/n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

“N-no, Nana, don’t worry. Nothing like that.” She releases an audible huff of air, relieved.

“Don't they spend time with you or anything?” Phil asks, leaning forward and facing her with agitation. She scours her brain for a coherent reply.

“Uh...no, not—not really.” She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to shroud the hurt found in her own. “They hardly even talk to me. They don’t even talk to each other anymore. Dad’s always too busy and Mom is...” She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously taps her foot against the floor; a nervous habit she's taken to whenever her anxiety levels rise.

Her mind flashes with images of her mother sneaking out in the dead of the night. When asked about it, she'd snap at her, insist it was for 'business', and leave it at that. She remembers that one time she borrowed her phone to email her teacher, since hers had stopped working the previous day, and instead got notified of a message, received from a man with an unknown name. Initially, she believed it was a coworker or friend, but the contents of said 'message' involved raunchy flirting and, upon opening his contact, these advances were heavily reciprocated, and he wasn't the only one. It made her sick to her stomach. Sure, she was aware that Mom and Dad weren't exactly at a healthy place in their marriage, but she never thought one of them would actively cheat on the other. Those actions were guaranteed to ruin a family, yet her mother didn't seem to care in the least. 

Her foot makes a soft thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. “Uhh... Keeping secrets.” Phil and Farah share a glance.

“What kind of secrets, darlin’?” her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand. Does she really want to say this?

“I—I think, well, uhm... She’s cheating on Dad.” She doesn’t look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they’ll judge her and her parents. “I mean, the way she's been acting, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I’ve caught her before but she just got mad and said it was ‘business-related’.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Plus, Mom and Dad haven’t gone on a date in forever. And I don’t know, it’s just...worrying.”

“Sweetie,” Farah starts, and Y/n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adopted, “that kind of behavior is unacceptable.” She shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. “We need to talk to them about this.”

“No,” she interjects, finally meeting Farrah’s eyes with frightened e/c ones. “They can’t know I told you all of this. They—they’ll hate me.”

“If this is true, something needs to be done,” Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in distaste. “You don’t need to be in a house with two people that are so unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us.” Although the thought of living in a house with her loving grandparents sounds fantastic, she refuses by shaking her head again and speaking in a tremulous voice.

“N-no, it’s alright. I can deal with it.” Although her parents don’t seem to care about her anymore, she would most definitely shatter whatever remnants of a relationship they still have between the three of them if they were to find out what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want her parents to despise her; that would be a horrid feeling. And she wants to avoid experiencing it.

The rest of the dinner goes by at a leisurely pace for the girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more lighthearted subjects to cheer her up, and it moderately works. They ask her about school, her friends, whether she’s in a relationship yet, to which she responds with valid answers: “It’s good”, “I don’t have friends”, and “No”. It makes itself more apparent to them with every reply she isn’t living a normal, decent life. But they figure it’d be best not to pry too much. After all, she’s here for a break, not to be harassed with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after swallowing the final bite, pushes the chair back under the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling full and tired. Her gaze shifts to the window, perceiving the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is setting below the horizon and darkness will soon replace its blaze of light.

“Marshmallow is probably waiting outside if you wanna let him in for the night,” the woman hollers from the dining room as Y/n discards her dishes in the sink and rinses them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won’t bear witness to it.

“Okay, Nana.” She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and props them in the plastic drainer resting on the counter-top before walking a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and nudging it open, being welcomed by a cooler evening gust of wind.

She glances around the small porch and can’t help but smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face to clean himself. He peers up at her curiously, and she approaches at a gradual pace to avoid scaring him.

“Marshmallow? You remember me?” She sticks her hand out and lets him sniff her fingers before fondly rubbing his head. “It’s Y/n. I haven’t been back for a while.”

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he’s receiving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her neck and she can hear distinctive purring; a sound she hasn’t heard in years.

“Aww,” she coos, unable to stop herself from coddling the furry creature. “I missed you, too, little buddy.” She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door behind her, nearly colliding with Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass with a few droplets of liquid remaining.

She takes notice of Y/n and grins at the sight. “Ah, see? We told you he’d remember you.” The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and bumps her on the arm, making her chuckle.

“Yeah. He’s just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly.” As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles warmly as she places the plates in the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No, thank you, hun.” She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. “You just spend some time with the fur baby. Finish settling in.” Y/n feels Marshmallow struggle against her hold, so she crouches and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump down and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind.”

“I can’t believe you’re the spawn of my son,” she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. “It’ll be fine, sweetie. I’ve got it covered for now. You go and relax.” Y/n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won’t do her any good to argue about it. Emitting a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles toward the staircase.

“Okay...but, tell me if you need help?”

“Stop worrying. You’re the guest here.” Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unaware that she’s being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her backpack to move it off her bed. As she twists around to walk to the desk, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who's rubbing against her leg, and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat.

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the unexpected adrenaline rush that swamps her system, but once she does, she scoffs. “Trying to trip me already?” She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his hind feet as a response. “Silly cat.”

Marshmallow finds a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag as she finds a place for her bag and goes to sleep rather swiftly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall with each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring the ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many grim things have happened since then.

Sitting on the bed, her eyes drift out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can’t help her entrancement of the scenery and feels a trace of disappointment that she hasn’t seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and surveys it, blended emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

Yeah. There's nothing to worry about.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Lies and Alibis

Part 3

Previous

Nikolai/Plus Size F!OC

Can be read as an OC or reader! I don't use names, she's fat and has hair long enough to grab!

This chapter came out much longer than I anticipated, please let me know if you enjoy <3

Tags: 18+, shower sex, blowjobs, light dom/sub, light dirty talk, a brief glimpse at pleasure dom! nikolai, don't look at me, i edited the best I could.

banner by @/une-femme-de-lettres

Their escape had been nothing like the harrowing, yet graceful exits as seen on the big screen. They run for their lives. Nikolai’s hand gripping her arm firmly enough to bruise as he guides her behind cover close beside him. She knows better than to stray, and despite being scared beyond belief she follows the hand that guides her without question. Eyes peeled and safety off. 

It was going smoothly, until what had presumably been one guard turned into several, hidden away from view but very obviously alerted as Nikolai bashed the first man’s skull across a sleek marble pillar, leaving nothing but a bloody stamp and a loud enough echo to warrant gunfire in their direction. The sheer sound of it enough to deafen as concrete shattered into rubble and dust around them.

She stays behind him, keeping watch as Nikolai returns fire from around the corner in between shots. Eyes flickering to him with concern when he curses at the familiar click of an empty mag. He scrabbles for the extra tucked into his belt, eyes narrowing dangerously when she bat’s his hand away, shoving her own pistol into his hands and taking the other before shoving him back around. She makes quick work of plucking the extra mag from his belt herself, reloading it swiftly and presenting it to him when he turns again. Stars in his eyes, as he pulls it from her fingers.  She couldn't trust her own aim, not with her trembling hands, but she could help. Keeping a firm hand latched to his belt and tugging him to safety when he was too distracted to move himself. Feeling a bit of pride at being his partner rather than damsel, at least to an extent. 

There is a pause in shots, and in the quiet Nikolai snags her again, moving slow enough to match her pace, but keeping them low as they hit the door, ornately carved mahogany swinging open into the cold night air. They bolt, his hand in hers as they weave through vehicles in the oversized driveway, more gunfire piercing glass and metal in their wake. 

Nikolai rounds the passenger side of a slick black vehicle, yanking open the door, and hoisting her in with little preamble, dumping her in the seat and slamming the door behind her.  She scrambles to right herself, searching frantically for something, anything that could be beneficial. Her eyes falling to a set of keys with a dumb duck keychain placed graciously on the center floor mat.  She dives just in time, a stray bullet carving out a large cracked crater in the back glass behind her head. Miraculously it holds steady, her brain remaining safely in her skull. 

Bulletproof???

With no time to ponder, she shoves the keys into the ignition, twisting it hard as the engine comes to life around her. Right on time,  Nikolai appears on the other side, swinging into the driver's seat and shifting in one smooth movement. 

“Seatbelt.”  he barks, foot hitting the gas hard enough to sling them both back against the seats. She does as she’s told, fumbling with the polyester band until it clicks into place, bouncing around roughly as Nikolai yanks the sporty SUV off-road for a clear path out. 

A few more stray bullets ping off of the metal before the sound fades into the distance. With ringing ears and pounding heart, she cranes her neck to watch behind them. Greeted by nothing but the sight of trees whipping past them at a dangerous speed, Nik’s foot to the floor as they put distance between themselves and their enemies. 

They stay quiet for a while, and she sags into the seats as the adrenaline fades into exhaustion.  She doesn't bother asking where they’re going, at this point she reckons it doesn't matter, anywhere is better than where they were, and if the man wanted her dead he would have used her as a human shield amidst all the chaos. So she supposes she’s safe enough. 

Instead they sit in silence, blazing a trail down desolate russian highway while the career criminal she finds herself saddled with shoots a text message with his free hand. 

It’s not long before wilderness shifts into city lights, and a bit further still before they are pulling into an alley across from a plain looking deli. 

Nikolai waits for her to fumble her way out of the passenger seat while he roots through the trunk. She stands, bare foot and shivering as Nikolai drags a large briefcase towards himself, digging through the contents and reloading his handgun before slipping it back into his belt, adding another pistol for safe measure before he reaches back and procures a well worn brown bomber jacket. Wordlessly he closes the trunk, gesturing for her to turn as he helps her into the oversized garment. 

It’s perfect, surprisingly big enough to accommodate her size, and well worn, the leather soft and workable with her movements, with just enough weight to will the cool breeze off her skin. She tucks her hands into the sleeves, nosing at the collar as inconspicuous as she could, breathing in the warm spice of cologne and something she could only label as work. Like warm skin and metal, a musk that was pleasant, and unique to the wearer. 

He guides her across the street, hand on her lower back and head on swivel as he swings open the glass door, locking it behind them and swapping the sign in the window around to “closed” in one smooth movement. The young man on the other side of the counter takes one look at Nikolai before he’s rambling. Nervous russian falling from his lips as he bustles around the counter, seemingly bidding them adieu before yanking off his apron and disappearing behind the thick plastic curtains behind the counter, door slamming in the distance in a hasty exit. 

She watches quietly, tucked in her nice warm jacket as Nikolai makes a round through the place, checking corners and yanking the blinds down of the large windows that line the establishment. She waits patiently for the all clear before she moves.

“Is there a medical kit around here?” 

They both look like hammered hell, covered in dust and bruises. Blood still crusts her hair, and he's got quite the shiner over his left eye, along with a myriad of other cuts.

Nik blinks at her for a moment as he finishes up.

“Behind the counter, in the office.” he gestures, easing himself down onto cheap wooden seat of a dining booth. 

She nods, padding around the counter, quickly realizing that this too was a front for something.  A clean shotgun rests under the glass counter, just below the lunch meat and out a view, another handgun sits against the far counter, tucked neatly beside a napkin dispenser. She’s surprised the food itself is real, but she supposed gangster’s get hungry too. How cliche, she muses to herself. 

She silently notes the weapons, moving on to scan the small store room that doubled as a surveillance office, another pistol left lazily next to the computer.

They really shouldn't leave these laying around.

She could take it, make a run for it. As if she would get far on bare feet and skimpy satin dress in a foreign country.  No. She had gotten into this mess. The least she could do was make amends,  patch him up, and pray that would be enough to earn her another day. 

He would be disappointed if you ran, another voice reminds her. As if the man would be anything but mildly inconvenienced that his chubby captive got away. 

Was she even captive? He hadn't told her she couldn't leave, but he hadn't exactly given her a pass to skedaddle either. Maybe he liked having her around. Maybe as much as she liked being around him herself. She banishes the idea before the train cars of thoughts begin crashing into each other, quickly switching to pilfering through drawers instead, nearly squealing with excitement when she finds the blessed med kit. 

She emerges with her supplies, smiling to herself as she spots Nik, his head resting uncomfortably against the cool concrete wall, eyes closed as he rests. She approaches, calling his name softly before shaking his shoulder. He cracks an eye at her. 

“C'mon big guy, let me fix you up.”

He furrows his brows at her, an apprehensive look on his face, but she only lifts her own brow expectantly, making a grabby hand at him until he complies, easing himself up and toward the table she'd made her makeshift medical office.

She preps up, washing her hands thoroughly and slipping on latex gloves. She lays her supplies out with efficiency and crowds back into his space, gingerly, and perhaps unnecessarily nudging his knees apart to stand close.

He watches her curiously, heading craning to keep an eye on her face as she nears, instructing him wordlessly to tilt back with gentle fingers beneath his chin. 

She warns him quietly before cleaning his wounds, wiping away crusted blood from his cuts and bruises with a warm cloth and antiseptic. He reaches out, resting two big palms comfortably against her hips. Not groping, just resting, only moving one hand away slightly when she has to grab another item from the table beside them, replacing it easily when she shifts back. 

“Are you a doctor?”  

“Something like that.” she murmurs, pretending to be enraptured with the task at hand. 

He only hums, big brown eyes watching her idly as she works. 

“You're being very brave.” she teases, distracting him from both his thoughts and the sting of disinfectant that has his fingers twitching against her soft curves.

He huffs through his nose, closing his eyes as she pulls his face toward the light to get a better look. He lets her guide him with ease, seemingly relishing in the gentle hands directing him.

“Do I get something sweet at the end?” he ventures, cracking open his good eye to peer up at her.

She snorts, “Only if you behave, but you're awful handsy for a patient.”

“Needed something to squeeze” he pouts, squeezing her hips again for added effect. She has half a mind to flick his ear for being a shithead. 

She refrains, letting him close his eyes again, looking quite proud of himself when he adds, “and I can be very well behaved.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe” she drawls, tucking loose strands of dark hair behind his ear as she cleans his temple.

He does behave, mostly. Sitting still as stone as she applies a few stitches to the corner of his busted brow. The only sign of his discomfort is the dull ache of his fingers where they dig into the meat of her hips. A pain he massages away gently in silent apology when she's finished. 

He seems like a sweetheart, but this giant is anything from gentle based on what she'd seen. 

Yet, he holds her with a softness that makes her chest ache. His hand having been almost permanently affixed to her for a better part of the night. Not controlling, not in a way that made her want to gnaw her arm in escape. But protective, stern and sure in a way that had her following behind him regardless of the danger. Which in and of itself should be troublesome to her exhausted mind. She’s done enough thinking for one night. 

She's wrapping his knuckles when a door slams somewhere behind the restaurant. She stands quickly, scissors in hand, ready to protect her patient as a figure saunters from the back. 

Nikolai is quick to catch her, snagging her hand easily and unperturbed, slipping the scissors from her grasp as the stranger saunters into the restaurant.  His face is covered, a black neck gaiter pulled over his mouth, and black hat drawn down low over his features. The man is more lean than Nikolai, a hair shorter too, with strong arms under a plain black t shirt, handgun and blade strapped to either thigh. He only spares her a glance, as if her presence was nothing new or out of place. 

“Sebastian” Nikolai calls, his greeting ignored as the man before him launches directly into questions, voice low and calm and distinctly german. Her ears perk at the change. She knows german. She'd taken enough classes in undergrad to make conversation.

Only Nikolai must have noticed, because he slides his big stupid paws over her ears from behind. Mindful of her own bandages as his fingers drum pleasantly along her scalp, effectively drowning out any noise as the two men converse.  

She doesn’t bother fighting it. It’s probably for her own good anyway, but she does sigh loudly, crossing her arms in a show of displeasure. She wasn’t a snitch. Not that they knew that, but still. 

She should be terrified, for all she knows these two were discussing where to hide her corpse when they were done with it. Yet, she couldn’t even get herself to buy that one, nothing about Nikolai's demeanor towards her had suggested ill intent, and she doubted he’d let the man in front of her hurt her either. What a strange trust to have in a man you’ve just met. 

Lots of serial killers had charisma, her brain supplies helpfully. As if it mattered now. She was either going to die back there, die in the woods, or die here. She only hoped they'd at least make it quick. But despite her brain’s incessant worrying she couldn't bring herself to truly believe it. 

Instead she yawns, pulling her eyes away from the german in front of her and scanning the shop, taking in the outdated tile and old yellowed menu above the counter. She hadn't eaten since before the mansion incident, and she could feel the symptoms of low blood sugar beginning to buzz up her fingertips. 

Her eyes fall to the counter, stomach gurgling as she looks over the varying boxes of sweets behind the glass, plastic wrapped snack cakes and cookies that looked heavenly under the shitty fluorescent lighting. 

Nikolai lowers his hands once the conversation ends, keeping one palm along her shoulder while he fishes around in his pocket, passing his keys off to the masked man who simply nods to them as he slinks back outside. 

She barely notes the exchange, too busy crafting up Operation: Steal That Snack Cake, when his voice startles her, thick with amusement as he follows her line of sight. 

“Are you hungry?”

She’d meant to interrogate him, but her words are difficult, hunger making her fuzzy and borderline irritable, best to save the questions for later when she can think straight. She tilts her head back, trying to play it cool. 

“A little bit”

He only laughs, rounding the corner and  digging out one of the cakes in crinkly plastic before tossing it to her. She wastes no time tearing into it, and it's almost painful how good it is after a very long, no good night. It's something chocolatey and fluffy and delicious.

“Would you eat a sandwich?”

Fuck yeah. She nods again, murmuring out a soft ‘yes please’ between bites, cringing a bit on the inside about stuffing her face and still asking for more food, but he actually looks relieved. Pulling out a mountain of lunch meat, veggies, and condiments, assembling his own sandwich and looking to her for confirmation on what she’d like on hers. He even cuts it up and wraps it up nicely for her. Plopping the bag with both of their meals into her lap before heading toward the back.

“Beer?”

“You got tequila?”

He pauses, taken aback for a moment before his face splits into that pretty smile once again. 

“Da, I've got tequila,” he laughs warmly, lumbering behind the plastic curtains and reemerging with a chilled bottle of golden liquid. He tosses it into another bag, as well as the whole box of snack cakes as he passes, patting her hip gently as he nods toward another door. 

“This way, upstairs, much more comfy.” he explains, holding the door open for her as she scuttles after him. 

–

The above apartment is modest and clean, a large sectional sitting in the middle of the room, with a good sized coffee table and tv, the open floor plan allowing for a clear line of sight into the kitchen; a hallway veering off in between. The walls are suspiciously bare, and nothing but take out menus adorn the simple fridge. A large brown duffel sits in the corner. 

Not a bad hideout.

It’s not long before they’re both perched on the couch, legs sprawled, warm with liquor and munching away on the best god damn sandwich she’s had in her life while some trash tv plays in front of them. She can't understand what's being said, but she catches enough to give a sensible chuckle here and there. Perhaps more amused by the sheer absurdity of her current situation. 

Just a few hours ago, she had a champagne glass in her hand, followed by a handsome criminal, a gun to the face, and her first “self defense” kill. Her body hurts, and she feels so tired she could sleep on the couch just like this, but despite it all she’s calm, unreasonably calm. Comfortable, even.

She looks at the table. Hoagies, snack cakes and a bottle of tequila between them, before glancing at Nikolai, scruffy cheeks full of sandwich. He looks back sheepishly, eyes flickering between her and the table as well. His lips curling up slowly before they both break out into goofy giggles.

They laugh like that for a moment, bellies full and warm, settling back against each other with cheeks sore from smiling. 

“I’m sorry I fucked up your thing” she tells him in the quiet, her head resting against the mans bulky shoulder. She peers up at him to show the true remorse behind her eyes, his own expression soft yet indifferent.  

“It’s not ideal,” he shrugs, “shit happens.” 

“Will your boss be mad?” 

He snickers a bit to himself. “You don’t need to worry about him” he chides, pulling himself up out the cushions, stretching on stiff legs. 

“I’m going to rinse off. Be good.” he warns. 

Oh, but she had no intentions of doing that. She was warm and full with a dash of liquid courage, and despite the night's events she didn't forget why she had tucked herself against the bear of a man in the first place. He was gorgeous, even with a split lip and bruising eye, and if anything that made him more attractive. It’s too late to bite the words back as they fall from her mouth, sweet and playful. 

“You need help with that too?”

He pauses, turns towards her again, a brow raised in challenge as a predatory smile curls his lips.  

“Can you behave?” he asks condescendingly, mimicking her earlier accusation. 

Oh.

“Yes” she quips back pleasantly. An innocent tone that they both knew to be bullshit, her excited smile a mile wide as he beckons her to him. 

“Come along.” he chuckles, turning away as she scrambles after him. 

–

She’s too giddy as they slide into the small bathroom together, ogling his ass as Nikolai leans in, turning the water on and testing the temperature before peeking over his shoulder at her. Catching her in the act. 

“Are you going to bathe in that?” He eyes her up and down with mischief. 

Shit head. 

She lifts her chin a bit in pride, making a show of taking off her jewelry piece by piece,  shrugging his coat from her shoulders and hanging it with care before tugging her hair away from the zipper at her back. Turning to with a playfully lidded gaze. “Help me?”

He nods wordlessly, standing close enough that she can feel his breath against her temple. He bushes a few stray hairs away from her nape, curling a free hand against the handle of her hip.  Rough knuckles brushing against her skin, drawing a shiver from her as he tugs the zipper down nice and slow to the small of her back. 

He only scoots closer once his task is finished, dragging his knuckles back up the curve of her spine and down again as he noses behind her ear, pressing a slow kiss there that steals the air from her lungs. He hums against her skin there, pressing more slow kisses along her neck, hands sneaking up to push the straps of her dress down her shoulders. 

The fabric slips down easily, pooling around her ankles in a satin heap that he carefully tugs her out of, spinning her in his arms as he does. With his hands securely against her waist he leans back just a bit, his honey colored eyes raking over every inch of her with a look that could only be described as awe.

He wastes little time, catching her face between his palms and crashing his lips to hers. She meets him eagerly, nails dragging over his chest as he devours her with hungry kisses, groping and squeezing at every inch of her skin.  She yanks the buttons of his shirt open, hands eagerly sliding over his warm soft skin, giggling with delight as she’s met with the brush of soft hair beneath her palms. 

“Fucking, perfect man.” she pants, trying to catch her breath as Nikolai groans, a please sound rumbling from his lips as he goes for her throat, drenching her in sloppy kisses and love bites, his fingers dragging up to grope at her breasts, thumbs toying with her nipples as she gasps and squirms. She’s soaked.  Just from a few kisses and soft caresses, slick pooling and coating her thighs. Dripping onto the counter below. 

“We’re wasting the water” she huffs, trying and failing to push the shirt from his shoulders as he promptly ignores her, sliding his hands below the swell of her ass and lifting her with a soft grunt, plopping her on the cold porcelain sink, making her yelp. She’d be impressed with how managed to lift her if he hadn’t immediately sank lower, sucking a nipple into his mouth, tongue lapping and twisting around the pert skin before he swaps to the other. He moves back and forth, biting and pinching, suckling greedily until they ache between his teeth. She pushes at him, yanking at his shirt with a whine. Desperate to have him as bare as she is. He takes the hint, muscles flexing as he pulls the shirt off his shoulders and tosses it. Leaving him in nothing but a glimmering gold chain and well fitted slacks that had her brain short circuiting. 

Good lord, they build them different in Russia. 

He was a bulky thing, all well toned muscle under a soft layer of fat that added a delicious curve to his belly and tits. His skin covered in a layer of thick black hair that swirled and snaked its way over his chest and down his stomach, tapering off into a lovely trail that disappeared below his belt. 

It’s her that tugs this time, grabbing at that pretty little chain to pull his lips back to hers, whimpering softly as he nips her lip for her pushy behavior. She’s drunk on him, his smell, his taste, his growls and moans. She grinds against him, cunt soaking the hair below his navel as she desperately seeks friction. Friction that he slyly denies her, angling himself away just slightly. It’s another moment before she’s fussing, straining to whip the belt from his hips, and tug the fly down.  The angle too awkward for her to continue; she gives up, instead attempting to use her feet and ankles to push his pants down his hips in a way that has them both laughing. 

He pats her thigh, stepping away slightly with a chuckle against her lips before pushing his slacks and underwear down in one smooth movement, cocking bobbing in the air before her. 

And it’s just as perfect as the rest of him, thick and uncut, precome soaking his tip, glossy and pink. It makes her mouth water.  And she must be blinking like a cartoon coyote, hearts in her eyes, because he looks quite proud of himself, smiling smugly, eyes trained on her drooling pussy. 

“You need a taste Milaya?” he coos, reaching a hand to slide against the inside of her spread thighs, knuckle ghosting over the seam of her sex.  Holding her down as she bucks into the touch. “Come get it then.” 

The pile into the shower together, the hot spray making them both hiss. They hold each other desperately, a tangle of hands and searing kisses that leave both of their lips swollen. He lets the water soak them both before directing her out of the spray. 

She goes down nice and easy, soft hands sliding lovingly against his flanks as she sinks down, trailing kisses that has his stomach jumping beneath her lips. And she must look pretty on her knees, because he can’t stop smiling, pretty brown eyes warm and soft as he eases closer, twisting a free hand into her hair as he takes hold of his cock with the other, tapping it sweetly against her round cheek. 

“Open for me sweet girl, that’s it”, he coos, and her brain goes fuzzy at the praise, mouth parting obediently as he slips his head past her lips. She sinks closer, testing how far she can go, humming softly at the stretch, earning her a moan from the man above her, hand tugging gently at her hair as she hollows her cheeks and pulls off with a pop. She’d need to work her way up a bit before taking him fully, and she was determined to do it.  She gently bats his hand away, threading her fingers in his to rest against his hip as the other takes hold of his length, shifting slightly on her knees as she gets to work. 

She noses along his shaft, pressing slick kisses along his length. Running her tongue from base to tip before treating his drooling tip to more kitten licks, smearing the salty slick across her tongue before taking him again fully. Bobbing slowly as she works to swallow him down. She works up a good rhythm, gagging slightly as she pushes him to kiss the back of her throat, but she pauses, tears stinging her eyes as she forces herself to wait, daring to look up at him while she breathes through her nose. 

His eyes are blown, chest and neck flushed hot and pink. “So good for me.” he praises, thumb petting against her scalp. “Let me help you.” 

He pulls their fingers apart after a soft squeeze, placing her hands against his thighs to brace herself as he takes her face between his hands. He pulls back, smearing his slick across her lips before pushing back in,  working his hips in slow thrusts, cock sinking into the heat of her mouth over and over until she’s whimpering and moaning, tears staining her cheeks and desperate for more. He lets her breathe a moment before picking up speed, fucking her mouth in earnest. She’s lost in it. Skin burning and pussy aching desperately to be touched. She won’t touch, not until she’s earned it. Not until he’s pulsing against her tongue. 

She takes him, fingers digging into his thighs as he grunts and moans, holding her tenderly while he fucks her, pushing her as he sinks his cock down her throat, holding her steady while she gags and chokes, mascara and drool spilling down her cheeks and chin. He pulls out quickly praising and petting her, the words sinking into the cotton of her brain sweetly. 

“Almost done my love, look at you, being so good. Need you to breathe nice and deep for me, Milaya.” he purrs, petting her hair from her face,  and she does, sucking in a deep lung full. Pretty pink tongue on display as he sinks in deep once again, cock sliding down her throat again. He holds her steady as rocks into her with slow languid thrusts. Training her to take it before he picks up speed. 

He’s talking now, low and too quick for her to understand, though it sounds like praise, and that's enough for her to relax even more, granting him further access. He moans as he sinks in just a bit more. Obscene noises echo through the room as his hand curls through the wet strands at the base of her skull. His hips start to stutter and with a low growl he pushes her nose into the soft black curls of his base, spilling hot and heavy down throat.  His knees nearly buckling as she swallows around him greedily. 

He doesn’t let her go until she’s taken every last drop, pulling his cock from between her lips as she collapses against his thighs with choked gasp.  She’s all but gone, floating pleasantly as he hauls her up, licking into her mouth and  humming at the taste of himself against her tongue. She whimpers brokenly, the dull ache in between her legs tugging at her muddled brain insistently. 

“Nikolai.”  

“I know Zolotse, I didn’t forget about you.” he murmurs softly, peppering her face with kisses before turning her around, letting the warm water splash against her chest. 

He gropes at her, palming her tits, rolling her nipples between his fingers and squeezing at the soft rolls of her skin, gliding his hands down her thighs, thumbs brushing just shy of her sex that has another desperate whine falling from her. He follows the pattern a few more times, working her up thoroughly before sliding his fingers through her sodden folds. She lets out a small cry, rolling her hips against his fingers as he draws loose circles around her swollen clit. 

“Just needed someone to take care of you, didn't you Lisichka? My clever girl. Picked me out of a crowd didn't you?” he chuckles, sinking a thick digit inside, the glide so easy and hot that he sinks in another, splitting her open on his fingers, and grinding his palm against her bundle of nerves. She’s trembling already, pussy drenching his hand as he pumps into her wet heat. 

She grabs his wrist for purchase, rolling her hips into his palm, desperate little cries falling from her lips as he pinches and pulls at her already abused nipples. Gummy walls sucking his fingers in hungrily, pulsing in a warning of what's to come. 

He grips her throat, not hard enough to cut off air, just to guide her back, forcing her to look into his eyes as he fucks her stupid with only his hand. 

“Is that good? Did my cock down your throat make you this messy?” he coos down at her, brown eyes impossibly tender as he works into her. 

She can only nod, words lost in the dizzying haze of her mind. He doesn’t speak, only pulls his fingers out, striking her cunt with a wet slap that has her jerking in his grip. Not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to get her talking. She spits out a desperate yes, and he presses a satisfied kiss to her forehead, soothing her again with more sweet swirling circles against her clit. 

It’s too much, being surrounded by this man, his strong hand against her throat, calloused fingers curling into her over and over. She’s so close, the heat of her impending orgasm coiling tight in her belly. Fueled by honey brown eyes gazing intently into hers.

“That’s it, just like that, let me have it Zaya, yes” he hisses as she seizes against him. Body trembling harshly as her orgasm rips through her, pitiful broken cries falling from her as he holds her steady, slowing his ministrations to soft slow circles, working her clit continuously until she slams her thighs together, squirming to get away.

She paws weakly at his hand until he pulls away, wrapping his arms around her as he shifts her to slump against him.

The metal of his chain is cool against her temple as she rests against his chest. She holds him close, arms barely able to encircle all of his bulk as she rubs his back soothingly, pressing sweet little kisses to his chest, hair tickling her there.

Kisses he returns just as generously, pulling her up to steal more soft kisses from her lips, murmuring praise after praise in between. She smiles, warm and hazy at the man in her arms. 

“Thank you” she whispers dopily.

“Thank you.” he returns, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Going to clean us up, okay?”

She nods, letting him do so with little fanfare, scrubbing her hair, and running a soft wash cloth over her skin, careful with the tenderness between her legs before they’re both out into the swirling mist of the bathroom, standing patiently as he pats them both down with a fluffy towel. He wraps her in a bath sheet that actually covers her soft body, and he returns a moment later, helping her shimmy into a, oversized striped shirt and sweatpants that hug her hips a bit too snuggly for her liking. But they’re soft and smell like Nikolai. 

Not to mention he looks chuffed.

Of course he would, the dog. Fucking her senseless and putting her in his clothes. 

After they’re both dressed and re-bandaged, they sit together on the large sofa, warm and relaxed. Where he tucks her back into the nest of his side, his arm curled around her once more, thumbing lightly at the hills and valleys of her skin. 

She’s safe, protected under her blanket and nestled against Nikolai. Sleep sinking deep into her bones as another warm kiss is pressed to her hair. 

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Don't Deserve Love: Reaper x Reader

The light hit your eyes before the headaches did. You didn’t dare open your eyes at first, but the looming sense of sorrow in your stomach only buddied up with the rumbling of hunger had forced you to open your eyes.  The pale, crusty yellow sun filtered through the window panes in thick rays, showing off the dust that had gathered in your house for some time now, the rays not hitting your face but at the foot of the bed. Your fingers wrapped around the quilt, thin and old, the cotton stuffed inside now flat and barely padding comfort to you anymore, but… you kept it on the bed like how you kept the left side of the bed empty for the past ten years.

Slowly, you started to feel the emptiness in the room, how cold it truly was to lay on the old mattress in the same old house on the same old road. The cold shot right through you, shocking your nerves into sitting up, allowing the quilt to fall off your person, bunching up at your stomach and thighs. Your arms crossed over each other, as you looked out the window, your legs never leaving the bed to hang off of the side.

Snow bunched up on the bottom of the window, frost curled on the edges of each pane as wind rattled them in their slots. They were yellowed from age, needing to be changed, some were even starting to crack from the last hail storm. The large glass-paned doors before you only gave you glimpses to the large clay pots still stuffed with good soil and fertilizer now overflowing with dead weeds and snow packed on top, reminding you of better times when they were full of beautiful golden marigolds and bright purple tulips so long ago. You longed to smell those flowers once more, you longed to see him bent over the pots, digging around in the soil and plucking out weeds while whispering sweet nothings to the flowers like he did to you. You would remember how he would always pluck one flower and lace it over the shell of your ear, smiling warmly.

But now, you felt as dead as the flowers ten years long gone.

You looked away from the doors to the end table, your eyes spotting a large glass lamp that was unplugged from the wall socket, your phone turned over so you wouldn’t see the lock screen, the turned over empty bottles of alcohol and thick orange tubes, some pills spilled around the surface of the end table. Your eyes closed, you winced as your temples pounded, the back of your head feeling as though you were being stabbed repeatedly. You whimpered, opening your eyes as a single tear dragged down the curved surface of your cheek, only to soak into the old, dingy thin pillow.

You turned your body towards the locked doors (to which you don’t even remember where the keys were as you had locked it upon hearing about him), your legs dragged the quilt over to spill at your dangling feet, your back hunching, elbows digging into your knees as you stared off into the far distance, past the doors.

Little did you know about what lurked in your closet, nor the small wisps of black smoke murmuring and moving around the flanks of the wooden closet doors.

He watched you carefully between the hangers stuffed with clothes that mainly belonged to him. Suits, jackets, boxes of boots and sneakers that went unused even though he promised he would wear them (and yet he only stuck to the usual work boots he wore even if they were falling apart as he walked), and a few tuxedos and a spare Blackwatch uniform complete with armor. He had snuck in not too long ago, but just before the sun had peaked out over the horizon, locating the old key under the fake rock in the back garden (that was a complete disaster, rambled with dead flowers and overgrown tree roots), and sneaking inside with the intent to finally give you peace and to finally say goodbye forever…

You didn’t need him. He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t need a monster in your life…

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be crammed into the closet, he shouldn’t be hunched over to look through the wooden flanks just to see you sitting hunched over, looking out the window. He could smell the alcohol, he could see the pills spilled everywhere, he could feel the aches your body was being put through. He hated that you were suffering, he hated himself for putting you through such a thing. He was mad at you for still waiting for him to come home as if it were just another day.

The air was choking him, tension thick and heavy, weighing down his shoulders and making his knees wobble and making his stomach twist in knots.

It was a big punch in the gut to see that the left side of the bed was empty. The pillows undisturbed, and sheets underneath the quilt pulled tight over the corners of the mattress. You kept everything the same, everything that he did, you kept it the same.

His mask silencing his heavy breathing, his clawed gloves making gentle scratches on the closet door as his fingers twitched, wanting to so desperately to rub your shoulders and hold your hands and… love you.

Oh, how the golden marigold in his pocket felt like a ton of bricks, the paper envelope feeling as though it was poison simply slapped onto his skin, eating away at his insides.

He watched you sit there, doing nothing but stare out the window as if it were the answer to all of life’s questions, as if it were a complex math equation you were trying to figure out without writing down anything. You didn’t move, didn’t flinch, sniffle, whimper, murmur, speak, hum… You did nothing.

You didn’t even flinch when your phone started to blare out the loudest alarm he had ever heard, you most likely picked it to wake you up from your drunken, drug-induced sleep from last night. It seemed like you weren’t even inhabiting your own body, it took you so long to even snap out of your trance to look at your phone blaring on the end table.

He watched as you slowly extended an arm, shaking fingers lifting your phone up and quickly turning the alarm off before just tossing it onto the bed carelessly and standing up. He heard the series of pops and cracks from your back, wincing as you only stumbled away from the bed and caught yourself on the wall when you nearly fell. He heard you heave, watched as tears fell from your cheeks and hit the dusty hardwood floors as you stayed stuck to the wall, shaking as if you were a leaf in a hurricane.

He did this to you… He ruined you… He turned the light of his life, his beautiful marigold in a field of boring daisies, to a drunken mess that couldn’t walk five steps without breaking down.

Eventually, you hauled yourself up to stand up straight and slowly started to walk across the room and into the hallway, the floors creaking with every step you took. He waited until he heard the stairs to start to crack and settle like they always have done to slowly open the closet door and sneak out. He chuckled emotionlessly as he remembered he always would promise you he would rip up the flooring and fix the creaking problems after he woke you up too many times in the middle of the night by trying to sneak into bed.

He followed behind you, being careful to duck away from any corner, moving around in the shadows of your home until he heard the bathroom door shut and the shower turn off.

He carefully pulled out the paper envelope and walked up to the kitchen table, noting all of the bills stacked up in large piles (some were really checks on his death to you), some papers opened, addressing you for certain items like a recall on your car, a letter of warning that construction would be happening soon down the road, amongst other items. But what really tore at his insides was the photograph frame sitting where you normally sat at the table. Ornate brass coils framing a thick brass oval, encircling a black and white photo of the two of you before everything happened. He was actually wearing something other than his Blackwatch uniform which a rarity of its own, instead, a tight black sweater now, but his beanie still sat on his shaven head. His smile haunted him, the warm in his eyes genuine, his love for you showing as you were pressed to his side, smiling brightly at the camera.

“Oh, (Y/n),” he grumbled.

He placed the envelope down on the table only for his clawed gloves to gently pick up the picture frame, the tips of the metal claws rolling over the ornate curls and coils as he now stared at your face.

He wished he could see you smile like this one more time before he truly said goodbye.

He placed the photo down and reached into his pocket to slide out the marigold, all of its golden petals still in place as he gently laid the flower down in front of the envelope, his eyes tracing over your name he carefully wrote down. You always loved it when he wrote your name in calligraphy, the curls of the black ink dancing on the papers always caught your attention.

The shower hadn’t stopped, he could still hear the water running away, pattering on the bathtub’s porcelain floor. You wouldn’t hear him leave through the back door, walk out forever over the shower…

But something kept him from leaving, tethering him to the insides of the house he too once called home. He looked away from the back door, back into the kitchen and to the living room not too far away, through the archway.

The kitchen looked the same. Same tiles below his feet, same stains neither of you could scrub out between the grooves, same appliances surprisingly (you may have just replaced them with the same things). The paint on the walls was still the same shade, but now it was chipping away, needing a new coat. Dishes were piled up in the sink, waiting to be cleaned. The walls were littered with photos of the two of you still together. Most of them when you two were on vacation, or really just him taking you places that required undercover surveillance, you acting as the perfect coverup.

He took long strides into the living room, his boots scuffing against the hardwood planks, squeaking a bit. His eyes scanned the walls, following the new wallpaper you must have had put up as the walls were no longer painted a pretty ashen gray, now covered in flowery paper. The photos were still hung up in the same places, small statues still sat on top of the same fireplace mantle. The same sofa sitting in front of the same flatscreen tv, his recliner sitting next to your overstuffed armchair, overlooking the large windows that had the white curtains drawn shut. His recliner looked to have not been sat in for so long, your armchair acting the same way as the cotton inside both had puffed up from not being used.

Something caught his eye, something on the large table that certainly was not there when he still lived here. Pictures thrown about on the wooden surface of his face, lists of contact information as stickers, maps of where the old Overwatch base used to be, amongst other things. They were missing posters, you still never gave up on him.

You still thought he was alive, out there somewhere.

You still cared about him.

“How could you care about a monster?” he found himself murmuring, his dark eyes leaning over to catch a glimpse of your bright smile and warm eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

Gabriel wandered over to his recliner and slowly sat down, not caring for the dust staining the leather of his trenchcoat. A soft groan left his lips as his body was quickly encased in the overstuffed recliner as he leaned back into the comfortable fabric. His clawed gloves scratched at the armrests of the recliner, his fingers twitching, wanting to reach down and pull the lever to recline back like he used to always do with you by his side. He always loved how you two would always sit here late at night, watch the village not too far down the hill slowly die out and the sunrise and watch the same village come back to life.

He loved doing this with you.

He was deep in thought, so deep he didn’t hear the shower stop nor the door opening or your soft gasp.

“Who are you?” your voice shot right through him.

He stood up quickly, the recliner rocking back and forth behind him as he quickly turned to you. He watched you recoil, take a step back only to have tears stream down your cheeks, your eyes widening and jaw unhinging. 

You were dressed in a towel, your hair clinging to your neck in wet strands, matting to your face. Your eyes were red and puffy, lips were swollen, the dark bags under your eyes seemed darker than when he saw you still in bed.

“Gabriel?” you whimpered. He stayed silent, not knowing what to do. What could he do? Walk out? Not come back? “Gabriel, is that you?”

“(Y/n),” he murmured.

“Oh, Gabriel,” you sobbed, rushing forward and lunging for him, encapturing him in your arms.

You sobbed into his chest, and all he did was stand there and stroke your shaking back, stuck in his thoughts of how you could simply sob into this monster’s chest, holding him just as tightly as you did ten years ago.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve love.

[thestoryden]

Once in a Blue Moon

College AU! Tyler Galpin x GN!Reader Warnings: Fluff Words: 1.2k

AU Summary: In this world Nevermore is a prestigious university that only outcasts can get in to. Tyler goes to school online, but after the events of last semester finds that he may have a place their soon.

Tyler sits at his desk. Pecking at the keys of his laptop like that will get him anywhere. The muted clacks that sound from his keyboard don’t seem to reach his ears at all. His eyes wander to his phone. He grabs it and the screen springs to life. He pulls his jaw to the side and smooths his tongue over his teeth. He notes that he still has two hours till work. He huffs. The air he breathes out is strained. He can feel the Hyde itching at him, begging to be let out. He wants to give in, but something catches his attention.

He can feel the shift in himself, boredom to intrigue to panic. A huge mess of white streaks across the yard. Then again. A flash of white. Then a high-pitched whine. The Hyde scratches at the base of Tyler’s brain, like it wants to keep him safe from what is downstairs. Tyler doesn’t listen, he follows his interest this time. Besides, if it was dangerous, he could just transform, he thinks.

Tyler toes his was down the stairs are then makes his way to the door. He looks through the glass, and he can see the distorted figure of an animal. He pulls open the door softly and see the white mass. Now that he is closer, he can tell the bottom half of the creature is soaked in mud. It throws itself against the trash can. The trash cascades down on to the lawn. Tyler barges outside the safety of the house.

“Hey,” He shouts, “Stop that.”

He gets the creature's attention. It snarls at him and goes back to trying to rip open a bag. Tyler can feel the scratch again, it feels like the Hyde is inching its way to the front of his brain. He ignores it. He gets closer.

“Hey! I said, stop it!” He yells.

The creature lowers itself and tenses its muscles. It lunges at Tyler and knocks him back. The wet grass tickles at the back of his neck, the dampness absorbing in to his shirt. The creature growls and bares its teeth. Warm air from its shout pushes on to Tyler’s chilled face. The Hyde can’t take it anymore. Tyler can feel it rip itself out of him. His face twisting and his bones snapping. The muddy creature rears back and slips on the slick grass. It falls back and lets out a broken yelp. Some part of Tyler hears it, and he reins the Hyde back in. Stuff it down as far as he can till, he can only feel its incessant scratch in his feet.

The creature tries to scramble away, but Tyler reflexively grabs hold of its tail. It screeches as its bones snap and twist. Something that Tyler hadn’t though of yet tickles at the back of his brain. Werewolf. The creature slowly transforms back in to a human. Tyler hears his dad’s truck grumbles down the road in the distance.

He knows no matter what he does that he won’t come out of this unscathed if his dad see this. The now human creature shakes, eyes wide with fears. Tyler takes off his flannel and throws it over the creature. He tries to pick up them up, but finds them surprisingly heavy. He wraps the shirt around them the best he can then half drags, half carries them inside and upstairs to his room. Tyler places them in the shower as they shake violently. They don’t attempt to move, they just stare.

“Tyler? What’s with the mess in the yard?” His dad calls out, “And in the house?”

“My friend came over to study.” Tyler replies, “… Then fell…taking out the trash…”

Sheriff Galpin’s heavy boots slap against the stairs.

“And where is that friend now, Tyler?” He questions.

“In the shower.” Tyler responds a little too quick.

“The shower isn’t running.” He says flatly.

Tyler pulls a strained smile, “I have to show them how to turn it out, different controls here.”

He peeks into his bathroom and adjusts the temperature.

“See, all good.”

“Well, I want to meet this ‘friend’ once they are done,” he states, “And Tyler, clean up the mess downstairs.”

“Got it dad.” Tyler can feel his irritation trigger his Hyde. The scratching feeling starts up again, bubbling up his legs. He tries his best to push it down. Right now, it was not the time to let it overtake him, even if he wanted desperately to.

 He pops back in to the bathroom. They are shielding themselves from the water that is pelting down from the shower head. Tyler opens the glass door to the shower and flips off the water. The mud swirls and settles near the drain. They are still impossibly dirty.

Tyler sighs, “God, have you never taken a shower before.”

They let out a soft, stressed whine.

Tyler grimaces to show his discomfort, “Maybe not in a very long time.”

He grabs a wash cloth from the cabinet and turns the water on just a little bit. Tyler pours some soap in to the wash cloth and hands it to them. To his surprise, they accept it.

“Now clean up with this and the water, okay, I’ll be back with some clothes.” Tyler guides.

Tyler leaves to riffle through his closet. Everything is essentially the same, T-shirt, flannel, and jeans. There were a few odds in ends, but Tyler grabs what he knows. A light brown shirt, a white flannel with brown and red patterning, and some jeans. It dawns on him that the jeans aren’t needed, so he opts for pajama pants with a tie instead. Tyler takes his clothes and goes in to the bathroom.

“Hey, are you done? I got you some clo-.” Tyler cuts himself short.

The smell was overpowering, the whole bathroom smelled like wet dog. He was realized before, he was so confused by their reaction to the water, he didn’t even take note of the smell.

“Are you clean yet?” Tyler asks.

He peaks his head in the shower. They are dripping wet, but not dripping mud anymore.

“That works.” Tyler says, “Let’s get you a towel and dry you off.”

“Clean. Done.” They repeat them to Tyler, with a pitch and infliction so similar it sounds like he is hearing a distortion of his own voice.

“Okay,” Tyler pauses, “That’s kind of weird, but I’ll take it.”

He hands them a towel. It is plush and dry, and they rub their face against it. As they dry off, Tyler notices something that he hadn’t before, their ears hadn’t gone back to being human. They were still wolf ears, just in the position that human ears should be. He reaches out to touch them, part of him thinks of them as unreal, even after all he is witnessed. They pull back immediately and growl. The familiar scratching feeling runs up Tyler’s leg and in to his torso. He pushes it down again.

“Okay, I think you’ll need a hat for those.” He says.

They step out of the shower and take the clothes Tyler offered.

As they put them on, Tyler asks, “So do you have a name or something.”

“Name.” They repeat back to him, it sounds almost like an echo.

“Yeah, do you have one?” He questions.

“Have one.” They say back.

It clicks, “You can only repeat what you hear?”

“Repeat.” Their voice comes out near exact as Tyler’s

[aurelia1uvscats]

☆ 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | Saeyoung Choi

word count: 6,866k

warnings: suggestive but nothing happens, fem reader, fluff

[notes:] womp womp, back again lolol. So uhh this fic is basically a gift for my friend since we’re basically back in our mysme phase (lord help us). My friends name is Mui, so don’t get confused when you see her here! Mui and Saeran are a couple here. Sick fic for Saeyoung!

You stir awake from your slumber. You lift your arms in the air and begin to stretch—a perfect way to begin the morning. You slowly glanced to the side and seemed to notice the other side of the bed was empty. You assumed Saeyoung let you sleep in, even though you profusely refused to do so. He still would let you, despite your pleas. The sound of the rain seemed to have come to a halt, the sun began to brightly show its glow through the window. Despite the sun being out, you knew that if you were to open the window, the smell of rain would overfill your senses almost immediately. Now sitting on the bed, all you could do was observe the little water droplets on the window, watching as they would slide downward in a slow manner. It’s as if you were entranced by this activity.

You felt a tad strange... You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but there was something odd with you today; maybe you had caught something? You were completely against this thought due to the fact that today was the day Saeyoung wanted to spend as a family, a beach road trip he had suggested. We all favored the idea greatly. Everyone had come to an agreement for the date, and that day was today. You couldn’t afford to be ill, especially when this meant greatly to Saeyoung; he would constantly talk about it with great fervor. You pushed all those thoughts aside; maybe you were just overreacting? You haven’t presented any symptoms yet, so you are fine at the current moment. Your feet search to find mint-colored slippers on the carpet; once found, you open the door from your shared bedroom and head towards the living room.

You walk to the living room, and your steps come to a halt. You observe the room thoroughly. First, the first person you spot is the love of your life, Saeyoung, sitting on the couch, his back facing you. When you first met him, he was an enclosed person carrying around many secrets, many burdens, and suffering all by himself. He had been running all his life, never being able to be his true self, never being able to indulge in anything fully without the thought of him having to erase his current identity to run away surging in his mind. He had a tendency to always be hiding behind a mask, and then you came along. You broke his mask and helped him become his true self. He wasn’t 707, he wasn’t Luciel, but he was Saeyoung and that's the person you fell for despite his faults.

He seemed to be checking something on his computer and was completely engrossed by the LCD screen, multiple colors flashing all at once, the colors being reflected upon his glasses. He seemed so distracted that he hadn’t noticed you walk in behind him. It didn’t help that he had his headphones on as well. You duly noted that and would use it as an advantage to tease him later.

You wish he would fixate on his posture. Though you can’t help admitting that you found his sitting position adorable, he looked like a complete dork!

Next, you spot movement in the kitchen, eyes shifting towards the white-haired twin preparing breakfast. The smoke above the stove was present, and you watched from a distance how swiftly he did his thing. Saeran was the only skilled person when it came to the kitchen; for everyone else, if we were to go just a measly 1cm near the stove, we would burn the house down in an instant. Saeran knew everything from basic recipes to very complex and exquisite ones. He’s usually the one cooking for us every day; other days he would switch turns with Ms. Vanderwood so he wouldn’t have too much pressure. We would help him with simple tasks such as gathering ingredients or chopping onions, but the main action was all Saeran; cooking was his expertise, something he was incredibly good at. He begins to wipe his sweat bead from his temple with his white sleeve. You take a good glimse at his face, he seems a bit pale to you...Maybe it was due to the kitchen's terrible lighting or that your eyes were still sleepy, either way, you hoped it was nothing to worry about.

Finally, the last person who lived with you three had appeared in your line of sight. The other woman in the household had come out of the bathroom with a mop and carrying a blue bucket. She had an annoyed look painted across her face; she certainly did not want to clean. Mui was Saeran’s significant other, he truly treasured her with his entire life, and she too treasured him the same way. Saeran was a completely different person when she was around, he had never been this affectionate with someone, not even his own twin…Their relationship was truly impeccable; you were happy that Saeran had found someone so fond of him. You’ve known Mui for a while, and you considered her some sort of close sister. You two would get along pretty well, with a variety of things in common, especially an unhealthy obsession with gambling games, among other things.

She dropped the bucket onto the floor and placed the mop to lean on the wall as she walked towards Saeran, she sighed.

"Now I get why Vanderwood hates cleaning here!"

"The bathrooms are done, but now I have to clean the living room." Mui groans.

"You could’ve left the cleaning to me, Mui, I wouldn’t have minded," Saeran responded, pausing his cooking to give Mui a warm smile.

"No! You’re not going to take on any more tasks!"

"If it’s bothersome for you, then maybe when I finish here I could help-"

"I said no!"

You watched them have a small quarrel, mostly Mui giving Saeran a lecture on how he shouldn’t always take the burden and how he should learn to take a break for once. While he was cooking, he was listening to her with great focus.

You watched them with a weary smile. Saeran had the tendency to always take housework on, all of them. Even when everyone told him you could help him out, you would wake up the next day with the house completely spotless. So naturally, Mui wanted to stop that habit of his before he overworked himself to death.

You continued your walk and ended up approaching Saeyoung from behind the couch, then proceeded to sneak your hands around his eyes.

"Gahh!! I’ve gone completely blind!" He exclaims while pausing his actions on his computer. "There’s only one way to get your eyesight back~" You tease, while still covering his eyes, "I’ll do anything! Please god Y/N, without my eyes…How will I be able to see your cute face every day!?"

You stumble back and remove your hands from his face, completely flushed from the comment.

"Hey! That’s- Not fair! You can’t just say something like that so randomly."

"Flushed so early in the morning~ Hm?" He smirks, he gets off the couch, and makes his way towards your back. He sneaks his hands on your waist and lays his head upon your shoulder. You allow him to do this.

"I just can’t help but say the truth, y/n, a world without seeing you would be absolute torture!"

"I hope you slept well," he says while kissing your cheek.

"I told you not to let me sleep in... I want to wake up early to help around the house and work out, of course." You responded with a pout.

“I couldn’t help it! You looked so cute, I couldn’t get myself to wake you up," he says, hugging you harder.

"Stop calling me cute!" I try to let go of his grip, huffing.

"Okay okay~" He cheekily smiles at you; this makes you sigh. His smile was too precious, never failing to make your heart skip a beat.

When he removes his hands, you feel an overwhelming feeling of weakness all over your body. You are still able to stand, but you find this feeling very peculiar; it was worrisome.

"Ah, Y/N, good morning..." Saeran greets you while he begins serving up the blueberry pancakes he had been cooking on four plates on the dinner table.

"Morning, morning!" Mui greets cheerily everyone back, she’s serving up orange juice for everyone.

"I hope you all slept well," You yawn. The weakness is still present. You and Saeyoung settle yourselves on the dinner table, and Mui and Saeran join you after setting everything up.

"The loud thundering at night was so scary." Mui said, shivering at the thought of it.

"Really? There was thunder?" You question.

"I must’ve fallen asleep by then." You added, while you begin cutting your pancakes.

"Y/N, you were knocked out like a light, you fell asleep while I was talking to you." Saeyoung pouts, he hands you the syrup.

"Oh… I’m sorry."

"Nah, I’m just joking around, I didn’t mind watching you slowly drift away to sleep~"

"You sound like a creep saying that," Saeran says to him as he sips his juice.

"Hey! Don’t act like you don’t do the same with Mui."

"Do you?" Mui curiously looks at him.

"…"

"Aww, my brother is such a cutie. Look, he's all red." Saeyoung teases.

"Please, shut up…"

You laugh at their shenanigans.

"So…. Are we all ready for today?" Saeyoung asked, looking at everyone, he couldn’t contain his excitement, you basically saw stars in his eyes.

"Hell, yeah, going to the beach after the rain is so relaxing... Especially if the clouds are still covering the sun." Y/N answers him.

"I could use a tan, so the sun not being there is a total bummer," Mui says with a disappointed sigh.

"I don’t think I can get tanner than I already am." You responded to her.

"Hm… That sounds like something I must see for myself."

"Another thing you’ll see is Y/N is her swimsuit~" Mui nudges a shoulder toward Saeyoung to tease him.

"Gahhh, not yet, I have to wait." Saeyoung covers his face to hide his blush.

"It’s red~"

"Alright, time to get ready. Saeyoung jumps out of his seat, picking up his half-finished plate.

"You haven’t finished your food yet, sit back down!!!" You croaked, blush painting your face, pulling him right back to his seat.

…

"Um, hey Saeran?" Mui starts.

"Yes, dear?"

"You look a bit pale." Mui pointed it out worriedly.

It looks like you weren’t the only one who noticed it...

"Now that you mention it, he does seem pale," Saeyoung commented in agreement with Mui.

“Really, do I seem that way? I feel completely fine.”

"If you say so… Maybe you should lie down on the couch for a moment," Mui suggested.

"I wouldn’t want you to faint on us."

"I can help you take him over there, Mui." Saeyoung offered, he began to worry about his brother.

"I’m fine, really. I don’t feel ill." Saeran protested, it seemed he didn’t want to be a burden to both of them.

"You’re not fine, you look as white as a sheet of paper. Please, Saeran, let's just prevent any fainting from happening, yeah?" Saeyoung approachs him to help him out of his chair.

He sighs as if finally letting his defense down.

Both of them help Saeran onto the couch.

"Saeyoung, could you fetch him some water?" Mui asks while setting Saeran to lie on the couch.

"Alrighty, don’t worry, Saeran, your brother will save you!"

"I’ll clean up the dishes for you, Saeran." You say to contribute to helping him.

You stand up, pick everyone's plate, and go towards the kitchen. Saeyoung, looking for a cup of water, accompanies you.

As you begin doing the dishes, your vision starts becoming hazy, and your eyes completely shutting you out. You begged not to get sick, but it seems your assumption in the morning was correct. You let go of the dishes in the sink and start to slowly fall, knees completely buckling, the overwhelming weakness has won over your body.

"Y/N! Hey, hey are you alright? Answer me!" Saeyoung shouts, while catching you rapidly in his arms, he drops an empty cup onto the floor.

"What’s happening over there?! Y/N?" Mui asks concernedly from the living room,

"Shit, Y/N is burning up Mui, looks like she and Saeran might have caught something." He holds you in his arms.

You gain consciousness quickly and analyze the scene.

"Y/N, it's okay I’m right here," Saeyoung assures you.

"My head is pounding, did I just faint?" You ask, you weren’t aware on what just happened.

"Yeah, good thing I caught you in my arms just in time."

"We’ll have to reschedule the beach day for another time." He mumbles to himself.

"Wait, wait, no… I can go, there’s no need to cancel Saeyoung, please." You beg Saeyoung while grasping on his red shirt.

"The decision is final, Y/N, you both are sick, and we’re going to stay here and take care of you."

"But-!"

Saeyoung gives you an assertive look, you couldn’t defy him, especially when he was completely right. There’s no way you all could enjoy a day out when two of you were sick.

"You were really looking forward to today... I’m so sorry."

"Hey, look at me," He ushers, and you give him a glance.

"Don’t blame this on yourself, alright? No one has control over these things."

"You just have to learn to deal with them. Now, I’m going to carry you to bed, hold on tight," He picks you up and makes his way to the living room.

"Saeyoung, Saeran is developing a fever too, my guess is they both caught the flu or a simple cold," Mui says while having her hand on Saeran's forehead. Saeran seemed to be struggling to catch his breath.

"It’s that time of the season, so it wouldn’t be too far off of a guess."

"We’ll need to monitor both at the same time. How about putting them in the guest bedroom that has two separate beds?"

"Ohhh, me and Mui combining forces to take care of our loved ones? I like the sound of that!"

"Defenders of Sickness, woohoo!"

"Alright, Y/N onwards we go to the guest bedroom!"

"Come on, Saeran, cling to me, okay?"

1 hour later

Your vision was currently hazy, the pounding inside your head felt as if a thousand tambourines were being played simultaneously next to you, getting louder at every moment, the heat your body was producing suffocated you, and the weakness was more present than ever before. You despised being sick. You clutched your head with both hands in hopes of stopping the immense headache, but it failed to do anything. You kept shifting in the bed, unable to sleep due to the pain and the insufferable heat. Saeran, who was in a separate bed next to yours, was suffering just as much as you, possibly even worse. His small panting filled your ears, his face completely flushed instead of being pale like earlier, he seemed like he was having the worst time, his immune system was the worst out of both of us.

Saeyoung and Mui were taking careful precautions with us, they preferred not to have three people in the house be sick, so they urged us to put masks on to prevent our sickness from spreading when they were taking care of us. There were two masks: one was an old, plain black one that was given to Saeran, and the other was a cat one. This was not just an ordinary cat mask, this was a cat mask. You could see the cat's mouth, nose, and whiskers, it’s like you were a cat yourself. Of course, Saeyoung gave you this mask first.

I let out a loud groan and began to speak:

"I can’t get any sleep. My head feels like it’s going to explode."

"Yeah… I don’t feel that well either. I’m surprised I can speak coherently at this moment." He chuckles, later followed by a cough.

"Please, god. Just take this headache away from me!" You groan.

The door slightly opened, then Mui's head peaked through, and she proceeded to enter the room fully. She was holding a silver tray with two water-filled cups and four white pills, and she seemed to have a calm demeanor while entering. Well, it was only natural since she worked as a nurse, so it’s no surprise she was well prepared for situations such as this. Still, the way she was calm and collected impressed you.

"Here, take this." She handed each of us two pills.

"What exactly is it?" You ask curiously; you definitely did not want to put a random pill in your body.

"It's Tami Flu. Considering both of you guys symptoms are similar to those of the flu, then this medication will make you better."

"Thank you, dear; you are always so thoughtful and full of knowledge. We don’t deserve your tender care." Saeran showers Mui with appreciation.

"Saeran~ I hope you get better soon. I’m going to tackle you in a hug when you’re all better."

"You’re always free to do whatever you want to me."

"Okay, okay, tone down with the flirting; my head might actually explode if I listen to it anymore." You disrupted their conversation before it could escalate further.

"Haha~" She hands us water cups to accompany the pill.

"You’ll need to take it two times a day, so I’ll be very persistent for the next few days!" She warned both of us clearly, and we both nodded in agreement.

You begin to sit up on the bed fully, you take the pill, and you take a huge gulp of water. You hope the pain will subside very soon. The pill left a weird metallic taste in your mouth, but you’ve dealt with this before while taking Tamiflu. It's definitely a hindrance, but if it makes you feel better, you must learn to deal with it. As you begin settling into your covers once again, Saeyoung suddenly bursts through the door, making the three of you jump in sync. Mui dropped the silver tray with the cups, thank God they were plastic. He was wearing his usual long red wig and was wearing a nurse outfit, all of you were left agape. Mui seemed confused; Saeran was so disgusted that he proceeded to hide under the covers; he almost puked at the sight; you, on the other hand, were starstruck by his costume. You knew that due to the agency, he had to disguise himself in all types of costumes for different types of missions, but since he recently had left it, you hadn’t seen him in a costume for a good while. Now he was here, in a nurse costume, with a long wig, and wearing heels. He definitely had a knack for being the best at dressing up, you couldn’t take your eyes away.

"Nurse Choi at your service!" He announces it cheerily while striking a pose.

“Saeyoung, what in the world are you doing??" Mui asks him very puzzled; she looked like she wasn’t aware of this.

"I’m going to be helping my patients, duh." He retorts to Mui, still not looking satisfied with his answer.

"Nurse Choi! Nurse Choi!" You cheer him on happily, even though you feel badly; you will give him your utmost enthusiasm.

"Nurse Choi, please go back where you came from." Saeran takes a small peek from under his blanket to tell him this.

"Tsk tsk, I’m here to stay, unfortunately." Saeyoung sticks his tongue to Saeran, he groans loudly, and hides again under the covers.

Saeyoung looks at you and heads over there. He places his hand on your forehead and feels the fever.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Y/N? Any symptoms I should know about?" He asks patiently, waiting for your answer. You could tell that Saeyoung was mostly doing this to cheer you up due to the road trip getting canceled and you particularly blaming yourself for it. He wanted to take your mind off of it.

"My head hurts a lot right now." You answer him truthfully, giving him a sad smile.

"Oh no, it looks like you’re in dire need of my care."

"I’ll make you feel better, don’t worry." He pats your hair, and you lean into his touch.

He then goes in to lean for a kiss.

Mui and you both shout in unison. He’s taken aback by this.

"No, no! You'll get sick! No kissing allowed till I get better." You push Saeyoung away.

"But my kisses will definitely speed your recovery!" He urges you while pouting, he really wants to kiss you even when you look like a train wreck.

"Listen to her, Saeyoung! I'm even refraining from jumping Saeran." Mui contemplates.

"So if you kiss Saeran on his cheek, he’ll get better?" You curiously ask, in order to tease Mui.

"Of course!"

"Absolutely not." Saeran mumbles from inside the covers.

"If I can’t kiss him, no one else will," Mui says defensively, staring daggers into Saeyoung from across the room (she was sitting in Saeran’s bed). Even though he meant a cheek kiss, she still wouldn’t allow it.

"Aw…"

"No, but I'm serious, Nurse Choi, I don't want you to get sick, so please refrain from using your treatment at the moment." You shift the conversation back to the main point.

"Always so caring, I love you so much." He caresses your hair, and he then realizes that he just broke character.

Saeyoung coughs,

"I mean… Ms. Y/N, you are certainly a wise patient. I’ll take your advice."

"Thank you." You softly smile at him, which he returns swiftly.

"Now, then, Mr. Choi, I’ll be with you now."

"Don’t get near me, please."

"Come on now~"

"Leave Saeran to me, Saeyoung; you can take care of Y/N." Mui shields Saeran before Saeyoung can get near him.

"My own personal nurse, so excited."

"I’ll take good care of you," he smiles.

"Now that they’ve taken their medicine, let’s leave them to sleep, we’ll come back later with lunch." Mui stands up from Saeran’s bed and makes her way towards the door with the empty silver plate.

"Both of you in our care will get better!"

"Defenders of Sickness!" They high-five.

They make their way to exit the room; you hear them mumbling outside, mostly Mui asking Saeyoung what the hell he was doing in a nurse costume, to which he replies, "This is a job for two nurses." After that, the voices began getting distant until you could no longer hear them. You lay back down after all the ruckus with a sigh, and you begin closing your eyes to see if you would finally fall asleep. Saeran mimicked your actions, although instead of completely being relaxed, you could hear him having a coughing fit. You would’ve asked him if he was alright, but after you closed your eyes for the 56th time, you finally blacked out.

3:00pm

You are stirred awake from your slumber by a familiar red hair. You grunt at the sudden disturbance, and when you open your eyes, you see Saeyoung softly moving you to wake up. He was still in his nurse costume, a total win for you. He had something in his hand, it seemed like a bowl of soup. You looked at the clock above Saran’s bed, and it had 3:10 p.m. on it, it appeared it was time for lunch. You sit up completely on the bed, you rest your head on the bedrest, and meet Saeyoung's gaze. He was smiling softly at you while holding the bowl of soup with his right hand. There was a cup of water on the bedside table that he had also brought in with him.

"I’m sorry, I hate waking you up; you look so at peace when you’re sleeping. That’s why I can never get myself to wake you up early when you ask me to." He breaks the silence by admitting this.

"But-! This time I had to do it since my patient needs to be well-fed in order to get better."

"It’s alright". You giggle, making him flush a bit.

"What about Saeran?" You tilt your head.

"I got him covered!" Mui said from the door, she entered the room with a bowl of soup in her hand as well, instead of a water bottle, had an herbal tea in her other hand.

"Saeran, wake up~ time for your food." She also stirred him awake. Saeran woke up with a tedious bed hair, rubbing his eyes.

"I was the one who made you this soup myself~ I really hope you enjoy it!" Saeyoung admits to you all giddy.

He looked happy to be able to take care of you, his soup was emitting the same love he had made it with, and you loved him so much it hurt.

The soup he had made seemed strange, you noticed the Honey Buddha chips floating on the meal, but you thought nothing of it. He put effort into this meal for you so you would swallow it whole, food is food, and you didn’t care about the consequences afterwards. You pick up the bowl of soup and drink it as if it were water. Saeyoung watched in awe, staring at how much you loved his soup. He used a napkin to clean your mouth thoroughly.

"Here’s some herbal tea and chicken soup. I tried my best looking at online recipes to make this." Mui sits down on the bed with Saeran and gives him his meal.

"I appreciate you going through that effort just for me, Mui... I will make it up to you, I promise."

"No, don’t think nothing of it. I’m taking care of you on my own accord, I don’t want anything back." She plays with his white strands while he’s slowly sipping the tea and eating the soup.

"I made mine from scratch, I didn’t use any online recipes!" Saeyoung brags to Mui.

"That stuff probably tasted bad! Y/N, you shouldn’t have eaten that."

"It was very well made," You say in defiance to what Mui said, you were willing to defend Saeyoung to the depths of the earth. (glazer)

"Ha, see!"

"Mui’s soup was well made too. The herbal tea was just as refreshing."

"Do YOU see~"

"Nurse Choi will always come out on top, I’m the best nurse!"

"You’re not even a real nurse, it’s a costume!!"

"I am a real nurse... On the inside." He touches his heart.

"Faker…"

"Am not."

"Are to.."

"Where's your uniform then, huh?"

"In the washing machine, I’m not even on duty today."

"Excuses, excuses,"

"It’s not an excuse!"

You and Saeran just watched them squabble quietly and deemed it better not to get involved, especially in both of your conditions. The foreseen consequences of the soup have now suddenly appeared, you were about to retch. Your stomach couldn’t tolerate the soup you had eaten previously.

"I think I’m going to be sick…" You announced it aloud, you abruptly got up from the bed and rushed to the bathroom, covering your mouth.

Both Mui and Saeyoung look at each other wide-eyed, and Saeyoung rushes behind you without hesitation; even with heels, he could still run with all his might. All that could be heard from the bathroom was your retching and Saeyoung giving you small praises.

Mui stays in the room with Saeran, who again seems pale.

"My body can’t seem to digest the meal you gave me." He says, while gripping his stomach, he couldn’t even conceal his sudden sickness at all.

"Oh no!! Not you too!" Mui freaks out, her calm demeanor from earlier had shifted due to this situation. She rushes to get a bucket from the storage room and gives it to Saeran just in time before he can retch. He had to use the bucket due to Y/N and Saeyoung currently occupying the bathroom.

"Let it all out." Mui rubs circles on his back.

"Never let me and Saeyoung touch the kitchen again." She pleads to him while letting her head down in defeat.

8:00 pm

You were scrolling through the messenger on your phone, seeing all the "Get well soon!" Messages from the RFA members. You were still sick, though, thanks to the medicine from earlier, the headache managed to tone down a measly bit, and you could at least use your phone without purging your vision. Saeran was still getting his sleep, he wasn’t much of a snorer now that you think about it. You could just hear his small breaths in the room. It certainly didn’t bother you at all, it felt sort of comforting. You were glad Mui was pampering him from time to time, he needed all the love he could get, even more now. You switched to Twitter and scrolled effortlessly on that too. You noticed a post that piqued your interest: Dang Heng from Honkai had his banner released today, so the day wasn’t a complete disaster for the most part. If you recall correctly, Mui was a huge fan of Dang Heng as yourself, and you wonder if she heard about-

You suddenly hear screaming from the living room, and you almost drop your phone out of surprise. That voice sounded familiar to that of Muis, you wondered if she was all alright. Saeran wasn’t startled from his sleep so you sighed in relief, the bedroom door burst open abruptly for the second time today. To this intrusion you did drop your phone to, you swear these people would kill you one day. Eyes met with Saeyoung in his usual black tank top with a towel around his lower part; he had a green toothbrush in his mouth. He entered the room panting; he looked like he just ran three miles in a second, and sweat beads were present all over his body.

He didn’t have his nurse costume anymore, which you mentally pouted at.

"I heard screaming, are both of you okay?!" He asks anxiously with worry painted on his features, the toothbrush was discarded on the ground when he had rushed over to inspect you, and Saeran. You were left baffled, not only because he was basically panting like a dog, but over the fact that he managed to run over so quickly with a towel on, he had a towel on… You looked away almost immediately.

"Did one of you scream…?" He asks, trying to catch his breath, clutching his towel. He looks at you, but you don’t make eye contact due to you being flustered.

"That- didn’t come from here…I think that was Mui." You stammered with your words,

"What…? I thought something had happened to both of you, I got so scared!"

"I’m doing fine here. Saeran is just sleeping over there, we’re chilling at the moment."

"I was finishing off my shower when all of a sudden I heard screaming, and I dropped everything to be here."

"I can see that…" You gesture while looking up and down.

"Get properly changed, please." You ordered him for your sake.

"What?" Saeyoung asked while tilting his head.

"Am I making you nervous~"

"You’re not! Just get dressed, Saeyoung!" You yell and throw a pillow at him.

"Haha~ "

Both of you hear screaming again.

"I’ll just tell her to tone it down."

Saeyoung steps out of the room with his green toothbrush at hand and one hand on his towel. He finds Mui sitting at the dinner table, staring at her phone with excitement.

"Mui, lower your voice, please. It’s late, and you’ll scare the neighbors just like you scared me!"

"I’m sorry, but… Dang Heng banner is out!!! She squeals.

"Dang who?" He goes to look at her phone screen.

"He’s from Honkai, I’m surprised you don't know him, you play genshin, and those games are connected in a way!"

"Yeah, yeah, just lower your voice. Also, I’m done using the shower, we should try helping Y/N and Saeran shower now." Saeyoung suggests to Mui.

"Nope! You handle it, I’m not moving out of here till I get him." She responds fast.

"What?! I can handle showering Y/N, but two people? Not to mention Saeran would kill me if I woke him up." He shivers at the imagination of Saeran being pissed.

"You can wake him up with no problem without him getting angry," He adds.

"You can shower Y/N first then,"

"What about teamwork? Defenders of Sickness? I need your help, please…."

"I’m sorry, but I’m going to stay here and drain my entire bank account if I have to get this man!"

"You and Y/N with your gacha addiction. I can hack into the system and get him for you."

"It’s going to take a while to do that, why wait so long when I can waste all my money and get him right now!" She fist pumps the air.

"That’s crazy! Think about what I’m saying, Mui, I’ll get him for you for free, just help me out here. "

"I need him now, Saeyoung, you don’t get it."

"I’ll waste every penny to get him now!"

"You don’t have to waste anything if you just wait for me, using money for everything is not ideal, you know."

"Easy for you to say… You have eight cars in the garage! If anything, that just exceeds the idea that money buys happiness, and that's what I’m going to do!"

She gets her credit card out of the wallet that was lying on top of the table.

"Not so fast," Saeyoung says, swiping the card away from her grasp.

“Hey, give it back, Saeyoung, oh my god!" She follows him.

"You’re not wasting money on something I can get you for free."

"It's my money, what the hell?! Give it back!" Their height difference made it difficult for Mui to get her card back, she kept jumping to reach it.

"I need him now! Dang Heng is waiting for me."

"The only thing waiting for you is bankruptcy if you spend your money on nonsense!"

"Y/N would want me to! This is all for her."

"She’s not dead; she's in the next room on her phone!"

"Can both of you shut up…" You stood at the door of the spare bedroom, holding on to the door frame for balance.

"Hey, Y/N, take it easy.. You shouldn't be standing, go back to bed."

"Y/N, did you see Dang Heng is out!"

"Uhhh, she doesn’t seem too happy."

"You both do know that Saeran is sleeping, right? And my headache was gone for a bit, but with all this screaming, it’s back again, so yeah, I’m pissed."

They both froze in fear.

"Ahhh, I’m sorry, dear! We might’ve gotten a bit out of hand."

You make your way towards Saeyoung and take the card with you, he flinches.

"This stays with me."

"My card! "

You give her a death glare.

"Eek!"

Y/N shuts the door behind her.

…

"Shall we get the bath ready?"

12:30 Am

You stared blankly at the ceiling, hoping you would fall asleep at any moment.

You sighed; you hadn’t expected the day to go like this. You were expecting the day to be full of fun, all of you at the beach, playing volleyball, collecting seashells, eating ice cream, and singing your hearts out in contentment on the carpool that would have happened. Though, instead of that, you were bedridden, along with Saeran, there was nothing you could do to prevent this, but you kept on putting the blame on yourself since you might’ve possibly been the one who brought the flu into the house since you recently were in contact with a friend who was ill, though she wasn’t aware she was sick at the time. Right now, all you could think about was the things you could’ve done today if things were different. You blame it on it being 12 a.m. thoughts getting to your head. Maybe if you hadn’t visited your friend nothing would’ve happened, and you would’ve had treasurable memories to remember for eons, like the reason this trip was planned for. Instead, you’ve become an inconvenience to everyone, you bit your lip to prevent yourself from crying, you definitely did not want to wake Saeran up with your sobbing. You tried not thinking about these thoughts but they would still linger in your head, you ruined the day for everyone. Small tears were beginning to come out of your eyes, you sniffed.

The door opened once again, and Saeyoung entered the room slowly. He came into the room holding a pill container and two water-filled cups without a tray; you forgot it was that time already. You rapidly wipe your tears away and try your best to look composed, but judging by the sad look he gave you, he knew something was wrong.

"Hey, hey…What’s wrong, Y/N? Don't cry." He places everything on the bedside table right next to you and sits on the bed, he begins caressing your cheek in order to calm you down.

"It’s nothing." You look away from his gold eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? I love you; please just let me know what’s on your mind."

"I can't hide anything from you, huh?" You laugh a bit, sighing in defeat.

"I can read you like an open book, love. Now, talk to me." He tells you, you begin to inhale and prepare yourself.

"I ruined beach day…You were really looking forward to it, Saeyoung. And here I had to get sick; I even dragged Saeran down with me. I’m sorry…" You look at the floor in a sad manner.

"Is that what’s been bothering you? Baby, it’s okay. So what if we couldn’t go to the beach today? We’ll have many more opportunities in the future. Don’t worry about that." He cups your face to look at him finally. Both of you stare at each other.

"Everyone’s schedule coincided just for today… We were supposed to make memorable memories that we would reminisce about for years to come."

"But we did make memorable memories?" He says bluntly.

"We did?" You asked, confused about what he was talking about.

"Definitely, I’m never going to forget the face you made when you saw me in a nurse costume!"

"Hehe… I really liked it, you always go all out with your costumes."

"What about Saeran’s look?"

"Lololol he looked so disgusted, it was hilarious. I’ll make sure to show him my costumes first out of everyone."

I start laughing a bit, and he smiles.

"I’m also not forgetting how you practically stole Muis credit card just so she wouldn’t get Dan Heng before you." He continues.

"What… That wasn’t the reason!!" You tried lying, but you could see the smirk that was forming on his face. You could never lie around him.

"I can read you before you can read yourself, Y/N."

"…"

"Also, I’ll never forget how you practically puked your guts out because of my soup."

"Haha! And Saeran too, with Muis. You guys should never touch the kitchen." You begin laughing completely.

"So mean~" He pouts in a playful way.

"I’m just saying the truth."

"Even if those memories weren’t quite what we expected, at least we made some right?"

"I guess you’re right…"

"Since when did you get so good with your words, Saeyoung …"

"I learned from the best!" He tackles you with a kiss barrage.

“Saeyoung, that tickles; stop, you'll get sick!!" You tried wiggling out of his grasp, but you failed. Still, it didn’t feel too bad having him kiss you.

"I can’t hear you~"

"Both of you… Stop the flirting, please." Saeran says groggily next to you, he’s still on the other bed.

Both of you pause and look at each other, and you laugh.

"I love you, Saeyoung." You look at him warm-heartedly, you were so thankful to have him in your life.

"I love you too." He returns it with the same look but with his usual charm.

"Oh yeah! I forgot about the pills, Mui fell asleep, so it’s my turn to give them to you guys. Don’t fall asleep, Saeran, wake up!" He jumps out from your side to shake Saeran awake.

Even when you were feeling down, Saeyoung would never fail to bring you back to your feet. You truly loved him. You were glad to be by his side, and you were also grateful for him allowing you to be there.

After a few days had passed, you and Saeran finally got better. The first thing you guys did was plan another date for the beach road trip, though this time you weren’t too worried if it got canceled again because at every moment you were making memories, even when you weren't realizing it, whether they were good or bad. Well, that’s what some wise redhead told you anyway, and you would trust in his words until the day you departed from him.

Bonus:

Cough,

“Ugh…My head hurts, my nose is all stuffed, my body aches, I’m going to die!” Saeyoung complains, followed by a sniff.

“Stop your screeching. My head hurts bad enough already.” Mui yells at him.

“It looks like you guys caught it too.” Saeran says to himself.

"Don’t worry, you have us now; we’ll take good care of you." You smile, rolling up your sleeves.

[rebeccaoptical2]

Understanding Myopia: Nearsightedness Explained

Introduction

In a world that increasingly relies on screens and digital devices, it’s no surprise that myopia, or nearsightedness, is on the rise. Nearsightedness, also known as myopia, is a prevalent eye ailment that impacts millions of individuals globally. This blog post aims to shed light on myopia, its causes, symptoms, and management, empowering readers with knowledge about this prevalent eye issue.

What Is Myopia?

It commonly known as nearsightedness, is an eye condition where distant objects appear blurry, while close-up objects remain clear. It occurs when the eyeball is too long or the cornea (the clear front surface of the eye) is too steep, causing light entering the eye to focus in Instead of focusing directly onto the retina, it projects in front of it.

Causes of Myopia

Inherited traits often play a significant role in the development of it, as it commonly runs in families, underscoring a robust genetic influence. If your parents are nearsighted, you’re more likely to develop it.

Environmental Factors: Modern lifestyles, characterized by prolonged screen time and limited outdoor activities, have been linked to an increased prevalence of myopia, especially in children.

Age: Myopia often starts in childhood and progresses during the adolescent years. However, it can also develop in adulthood.

Symptoms of Myopia

Recognizing the symptoms of it can help in early diagnosis and management. Common signs and symptoms include:

1. Blurred vision when looking at distant objects. 2. Frequent squinting to see clearly. 3. Headaches or eye strain, especially after activities that require focusing on distant objects. 4. Difficulty seeing road signs while driving. 5. The need to sit close to the TV or computer screen.

Diagnosis

An eye exam by an optometrist or ophthalmologist is necessary to diagnose myopia. This comprehensive eye examination typically includes:

1. Visual acuity test: To measure how well you can see at various distances.

2. Refraction test: To determine the degree of myopia and the prescription for corrective lenses (glasses or contact lenses). 3. Ocular health examination: To rule out any other eye conditions or complications related to myopia.

Management and Treatment

The management of myopia primarily focuses on correcting vision and slowing its progression, especially in children. Here are some common approaches:

1. Prescription Glasses or Contact Lenses: These provide clear vision by compensating for the refractive error.

2. Orthokeratology (Ortho-K): Special rigid contact lenses are worn overnight to reshape the cornea temporarily, allowing for clearer vision during the day.

3. Atropine Eye Drops: Low-dose atropine drops can slow the progression of myopia in children. However, this treatment should only be used under the supervision of an eye care professional.

4. Lifestyle Modifications: Encourage outdoor activities, limit screen time, and practice the 20-20-20 rule (every 20 minutes, take a 20-second break and look at something 20 feet away) to reduce eye strain.

5. Myopia Control Lenses: Specially designed contact lenses or glasses may be recommended to slow the progression of myopia in children.

Conclusion

Myopia is a common eye condition that can significantly impact one’s quality of life if left unmanaged. Recognizing the signs and symptoms of myopia, getting regular eye exams, and following the recommended treatment and lifestyle modifications can help maintain clear vision and prevent further progression. As the prevalence of myopia continues to rise, it’s essential to prioritize eye health and take proactive steps to protect our vision for the future.

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[cat3ch1sm]

🌿| ok we aren't gonna talk abt how long i procrastinated on this okay i had finals all week and spent every waking second studying pls forgive me

🍃| request from @darkrose33 <33 it is just after l's funeral (reader's s/o) and the reader is feeling sad and alone. light decides to take advantage of this. this is part one- which doesn't consist of NSFW, but part two def will :) this part got hella long y'all

🍃| hope u enjoy ur request, reader! <3 for more info on my account click here!

light yagami x fem!reader~ part 1 (sfw)

All you felt was empty.

You'd seen it coming, sort of. You'd prepared yourself as best as you could for the strong possibility that maybe L wouldn't make it out of the Kira case alive. You'd tried to get used to the idea of losing him. You'd spent long, melancholy nights planning your future alone and spent some days distancing yourself from L as to adjust to the idea of him not being there. You had sought out outside help such as therapy, using an alias and saying that you had a terminally ill relative. You'd thrown yourself into your work, often staying up late nights and waking before dawn to immerse yourself in it as much as possible. You had prepared yourself for the likelihood that the very man L had suspected of being Kira, the mass murderer of thousands, would step up and play the part of L. Every possible road had been traveled, every path traversed in your effort to mentally, physically, and emotionally prepare for the death of L.

But it hadn't changed the fact that, at the time, L had still been there. It was never a reality then, you didn't really have to face it- and thus your attempts had been in vain. Now, here you were in the back of the cathedral, struggling to even breathe.

L was dead.

The only thing that you could see in your head was the perpetually repeating scene of L falling out of his chair to the ground, not a single detail missing. The metallic clink of his teaspoon when it hit the floor. The convergence of the entire task force on L's fading body, all yelling in panic and concern. The sudden disappearance of shinigami Rem. The white screen displayed on every device in the room, void of any images or text except for one line- All data deletion. Light clutching the limp detective"s body in his arms, face hidden by his brown hair. L's eyelids slowly fluttering shut. The ensuing frenzy that followed after Light came to the grim conclusion that the remainder of the task force would be killed as well. The pile of shimmering silver dust, later found in the back of the headquarters, along with the Death Note and a single black pen.

Every last detail.

It didn't feel quite real. There was still a substantial portion of your mind that refused to process the reality that L was dead. Gone. Much of you felt numb and shocked, while still other parts of you wanted to drop to the floor and never stop crying. It was the feeling of utter despair, loneliness- and bitterness. Why was L ripped away from you so violently? In front of your eyes, no less? It didn't seem fair. Weren't you both the good guys? Just once, why couldn't there be a happy ending?

You were sitting beneath the sill of a large stained glass window, almost like a mural, a beautifully crafted image of Jesus Christ with beams of radiance emitting from his head, various Biblical images depicted in the space around Jesus. There was an image of the stone tablets containing the Ten Commandments, a chorus of angels playing a variety of instruments, an effigy of a Nativity scene, and most notably, a large tree holding several red apples, and a nude woman beside the tree plucking the apple; the fruit was beside a sly-looking snake shrouded in the bushes, watching as the girl took the fruit. This room in particular had a rather eerie ambience, only enhanced by the fact that just beyond the walls, the corpse of the greatest detective to ever live lay pale and limp in a furnished casket.

At least the church was pretty- the whole place looked like this, the ceilings displaying paintings of angels and the floors in red carpet, the whole cathedral smelling faintly of frankincense. The funeral had been limited to just the task force, and the church had been tightly locked down in order to keep outsiders out. As of now, the funeral had officially ended, and Matsuda, Aizawa, Soichiro, and Mogi had left about a half hour ago- but not before asking you over and over if you were alright, which made you smile a bit amidst your dripping tears. L's body was to be buried that midnight by affiliates of L, wanting to do so in secret as to not run into any unwanted visitors. But as for L's body now- it still lay in the closed casket in front of the congregation, a grandly blooming bouquet with many kinds of flowers tied with a white ribbon to the lid.

Your partner was now a corpse.

Now you inhaled shakily, wiping at your tears. It was time to put your emotions aside as best as you could and think rationally. L wasn't going to come back, and no amount of crying was going to change that. He'd probably be telling you to pull yourself together right around now- there were things to be done, cases to be solved. Emotions were only a liability, and you were not to allow them to interfere with business.

Still, a choked sob escaped you as you thought about this. You would give anything for L to be here, chastising you now.

But he never would again.

"Y/N?"

You startled, jerking your head up to search for the source of the voice echoing throughout the back of the cathedral. Your gaze came to rest on none other than Light, nothing more than a tall, shadowy silhouette in the dark lighting of the church, standing a short distance from you.

"Light." You blinked your eyes hard and violently rubbed at your cheeks, eliminating the last of the tears as you got to your feet and dusted off your long, elegant black gown. As you did not want Light to see your current state, you couldn't help but feel a rush of relief that the light radiating through the glass windows was only minimal.

"Um- is there something you need?" you asked airily. Light stepped closer to you, entering the light to reveal his sharp black suit and tie.

"Is there something you need?" Light returned, making your brow furrow in slight confusion. "I know L's death must be quite hard on you- I want to make sure you're okay."

"Ah, it's- it'll be fine." Wow, that wasn't very convincing, and you realized this with a slight grimace. Waving it off, you pressed forward, hoping to sound more okay than you actually felt. "I suppose it was all but inevitable. The odds were against him; that's all there was to it." You let out a somewhat bitter laugh, lowering your gaze to the velvet carpet. "I'm a bit impressed L didn't pass sooner..."

Light eyed you a little suspiciously, and it was clear he knew you were not alright in the least. You could sense his burning yet warm eyes on you, observing your body language as you continued to stare at the floor, not knowing what else to do.

"Really, I'm fine." You tried again, fiddling with the pendant around your neck that you'd saved for a special occasion. Feeling tears begin to prick at the backs of your eyes once more, you opted to change the subject. "How about you? How are you doing?"

Now it was Light's turn to look dubious. "I don't know how to feel, really- but if I had to pinpoint it, I'd have to say nervous." At nervous, he winced a little- which caught you rather off guard.

"You're nervous?" You blurted, unable to hide your surprise. "Um... that doesn't really sound like you."

"Ha, it's not." Light smiled sheepishly and put a hand behind his head, the other in his pocket. "It's just the prospect of taking over as L... I know it's something I can probably handle, but I can't help but feel a little intimidated.."

"Oh, who wouldn't be? It's a daunting task. But I'm certain you'll act accordingly as L." This was a lie on your part, actually- since L's death, your suspicions of Light being Kira had gone through the roof. But obviously, you couldn't let that be known to Light.

Light gave you a grateful grin. "Thank you, Y/N."

"Of course."

Light began to move closer still to you, and a little off-put, you stepped backwards closer to the stain-glass mural. "Is- is there anything else you need?"

"Well, I do have something to ask you." He was even closer now- your body was completely pressed against the window now. Too late, the feeling of something being wrong began to arise in your mind.

You hesitated. There wasn't very much you could do about that now. "Go ahead."

"What did you see in L that you didn't see in me?"

Your eyes flew wide open, shocked. What the hell was Light saying? Knowing something was definitely wrong now, your fists slowly began to rise to your hips, ready to swing if Light were to try anything. "What?"

"You heard me."

Oh, hell no. A furious expression taking hold of your facial features, your fists instantly flew upward to reach Light's face- only for a single hand to stop them both, long fingers wrapping around both of your wrists. In one swift move, Light swung your wrists and arms backward, slamming them against the shining glass behind you, holding your hands captive above your head. Your breathing began to speed up, and you glared up at Light with equally incensed and terrified eyes. What was he doing?

"Don't look so scared," Light told you, feigning comfort as an almost diabolical smirk spread across his lips, the glimmer of the sun through the window behind you reflecting in his greedy brown eyes. "I won't hurt you- that is, unless you don't cooperate."

You had no clue what was even really happening, but you damn sure weren't about to play along. "Cooperate? Light, what the hell? Let me go!" With a strained grunt, you wrenched against Light's grasp, twisting your body this way and that to try and tear your hands from his grip. However, your attempts were in vain, and didn't even seem to phase him. Instead, Light let out a derisive chuckle, licensing you even further.

"It's pointless to resist, Y/N." Light told you matter-of-factly, appearing almost bored as he held your body fast to the wall. "If you'll only stop moving so much, this doesn't have to be so bad."

Your eyes were ablaze with anger and humiliation- but you knew Light was probably right. You would only wear yourself out if you kept struggling against him. Taking this into account, you reluctantly ceased your thrashing, breathing heavily as you allowed your chin to drop down to your chest as you hung your head in defeat.

"What is it you want from me? Please, just get it over with." Your voice was muffled as you stared forlornly at the floor. Whatever Light wanted- you simply couldn't do it today. Any day but today.

"I want nothing from you- I want you." Light's hand slid under your chin and gently lifted your head up to face him. Your eyes were gloomy and half-lidded as you met Light's stormy eyes, alight with the wistful golden glow emitting from the stained glass window. His body was against yours now, the fabric of his suit touching the cloth of your dress, falling half off your shoulders from the prior encumbrance. You could feel the faint thumps of his heartbeat on your skin, and your breath hitched a little. This could not be happening. Today.

"Want me." you spat icily, almost a little too scornful. "I take it you've been after me for a while? I knew it. I could tell."

"Aren't you clever, Y/N?" Another sardonic chuckle. "You're quite correct- since the day I first laid eyes on you, you were the only thing I could think about. I memorized every last one of your features, even those that weren't necessarily physical- your smile, your laugh, the way you fidget with your hands- and the way you used to look at L." At this line, Light's face tightened, and you couldn't help but choke back a slight gasp. Your instincts were screaming at you to kick him, to fight back, to do anything- but you found you were simply unable to move.

"You're insane." was the only thing you could manage in a biting tone, jaw clenched and diction clipped. Light only responded with an unsettling smile before resuming his lament.

"I was... rather dismayed when I found out that you and L had begun a relationship- a romantic one. All I could think about was how it was supposed to be me- you were supposed to belong to me. And when L went and handcuffed himself to me, all I wanted to do was kill him. I was forced to watch you kiss lips that weren't mine, throw your arms around a body that wasn't mine. Likewise- I was made to watch his hands run along your waist, caress your skin, smooth back your hair- skin I should have been touching, hair that should have been tangled in my own fingers."

"And for what? For him to dismiss you, ignore you half the time, and behave as if you meant so little to him? When I could have granted your every wish, showered you with my love every second."

So Light had noticed the growing distance between you and L- realizing this, you couldn't bring yourself to keep looking at him, and instead dropped your head again from Light's grasp, hot tears dripping down your face and blurring your vision. L had been quite alienated from you in the days leading up to his death, and it had made you suffer greatly as the looming threat of Kira grew closer every day. All you had wanted to do was be there for L, save him somehow from going in too deep and endangering himself even further- and your efforts had only been proven futile. L had quite blatantly dismissed your attempts at assistance- ignoring you, rejecting any forms of physical affection from you, even going so far as to flat out tell you that he didn't even want you present at times, which had hurt you greatly. It had made you feel unwanted, inferior, and useless. And now that L's murderer had thrown it all back in your face, it was like a wound in salt, stinging like the tears spilling from your eyes.

"Look at you. You're still crying over L- even when he's no longer here." Light leaned down a little to meet your height, while still holding your wrists with one hand, and peered into your red and glassy eyes with a strangely affectionate expression. "Do you see now? Do you see how much he made you hurt? Do you see how good I could make you feel?"

You were too distressed to answer, face completely wet now as the whole day hit you at once. Light, however, didn't seem impatient with you- instead straightening up and at last releasing your hands, your arms limply falling to your sides, and sliding his hands slowly around your waist in an act of comfort. He began to rub your skin through your dress soothingly, easing your tears some as you began to relax a little. "It's alright. It'll be fine, Y/N- okay?"

You nodded shakily, no longer paying much attention to what you were actually doing, only wanting to find comfort somewhere, anywhere.

"I can make you feel better again. I can make you feel safe. You just have to let me."

You sighed, wiping at the tears on your cheeks.

"Okay."

[shurisneakers]

harmless (viii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He doesn’t expect to see you on TV. 

In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.

But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.

You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest. 

He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.

Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.

You better get your ass here, sarge

And so he does.

Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.

“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self. 

“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”

“What’s your dumb plan then?” 

“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”

“Where is it?” 

“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”

Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm. 

The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.

There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.

“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”

“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.

“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”

He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”

“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”

He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.

“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction. 

“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.” 

Bucky looks down.

“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”

“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”

“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”

“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”

Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.

"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.” 

“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.

“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”

He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.

“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”

“No. Stay there.”

“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.

“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.

“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked. 

When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome. 

“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.

“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.

He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went. 

“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence. 

Now that simply wouldn’t do. 

Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.

“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.

“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”

“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.

“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him. 

“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”

He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure. 

“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”

“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat. 

“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”

“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.

He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-

“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand. 

You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.

“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you. 

“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.  

“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.

“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately. 

If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.  

The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair. 

“What the fu-”

“Hello,” your voice comes from above him. 

“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.

“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”

He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.

“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.

There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.

“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.

“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.

“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.

“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate. 

“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.

“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.

“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.

“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him. 

He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.

“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”

He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.

“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help. 

He rolls his eyes.

You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand. 

He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory. 

He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.

The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.

“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”

He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.

“Right.” You clear your throat. 

He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance. 

“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”

“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.

“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”

He didn’t. 

“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”

Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?

“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”

“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?” 

He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back. 

“You go on missions a lot?” 

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.

He got that reference.

“What’s your favourite food then?”

He scrunches his eyebrows.

“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”

It’s not, he’s just never thought about it. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Pasta?”

“Vague, but I’ll take it.”

He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own. 

It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side. 

“What do you do in your downtime?”

“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.

“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm. 

There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”

You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?”

He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.

“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”

“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him. 

The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.

“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually. 

He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.

Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle. 

“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”

He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that. 

Frankly, he’s a little stunned.

You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”

At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.

A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.

You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there. 

“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”

“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”

“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.

“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage. 

He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets. 

Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-

“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”

Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”

He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.

The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints. 

You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.

“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job. 

“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”

Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.

Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.

He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.

Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.

You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.

You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.

“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”

He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder. 

“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.” 

He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.

“You wanted to talk to me.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”

“Bullshit,” you laugh.

“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”

“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”

He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too. 

Next part

[1kook]

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu​ 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates. 

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens. 

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class. 

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him. 

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all. 

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly. 

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months. 

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got. 

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career. 

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course. 

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.” 

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you. 

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen. 

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.) 

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side. 

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly. 

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester. 

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness. 

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you. 

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face. 

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!” 

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things. 

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone. 

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought. 

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you. 

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news. 

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward. 

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason. 

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away. 

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom. 

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same. 

Apparently not. 

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed. 

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile. 

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.” 

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck. 

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot. 

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi. 

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.” 

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.  

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face. 

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments. 

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.” 

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.” 

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character. 

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester. 

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right. 

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile.  He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.” 

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?” 

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh. 

This man was dangerous for your heart. 

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.” 

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you. 

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well. 

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook. 

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin: 

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]

Y/N: 

Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

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