#this has nothing to do with this one shot WOW

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 14: First Impressions

Episode 14!!! If Ep 11 really was the 70% mark (apparently the dev said that but don’t quote me on it, I saw it in a YT comment), then it only goes up to Ep 16. In the first trial, the culprit was revealed in Ep 10, then Ep 11 was their final defense as the class unraveled all the remaining mysteries, and Ep 12 was mostly post-trial. If the pattern repeats, this might be the episode we get our culprit reveal!!! And it seems likely, with the forty minute mark. So excited!!!

Also fine if it doesn’t happen if course, but we’ll see!

Spoilers for CH2 EP14. CW: Hanging, murder, Eden!Culprit and Ace!Culprit discussion, blood and wires.

Nico! Nico! Explain the blood on the wires and my life is yours!!! I’m still surprised Teruko got “hanging” out of that crime scene to be honest.

Ace is so funny. He’s technically right that people should ask the victim and not just the killer, but he has nothing to offer.

“That’s why she didn’t ask you.” J really is becoming the voice of reason huh?

“It’s hard to remember the evidence.” (Paraphrased). Eden.

[Teruko lists the evidence] And… she omitted the tape. Yeah, the trial would get pretty derailed if Rose noticed the oddity there right away.

Wow, immediately Rebuttal Showdown let’s go! Really cool Hu animation. I wonder if she’ll end up being the Ace attacker or not? She could still just be defending Nico because.

“That’s why I have to interrogate Nico.” I love the voice acting, the chillest Rebuttal Showdown ever so far xD

[Sword Reveal] Fan?… Oh, because the fan being broken implies a hanging, right? That’s where she’s going with this?

“Lost their temper at Ace” is not how I will put attempted murder, Hu, but you do you.

[Cut] Oh, the fan was used as a pulley??? Fucking how???

“The fan being broken would suggest a hanging.” (Paraphrased) Oh I was kinda right with my start of RS guess.

“Isn’t that wire Hu’s custom weapon?” Woo, Whit with the brain cell!

“Nico stole from Rose, so they stole from [Hu]” (Paraphrased) Yeah! Teruko and I think alike!

[Hu triple dots] Was the wire stolen? I’m almost second guessing it with how reluctant she is to say that.

{Hindsight between keys: Man I went back and forth a lot this episode huh}

[Veronika talks about Nico planning for the trial] Even though that kinda contradicts what Nico said earlier (I guess maybe they lied, makes sense in retrospect), yeah she’s right (assuming they aren’t wrong about Nico trying to frame Hu). Is she trying to help her newfound bestie, Hu?

“Did they even want to learn to paint?” Poor Rose T_T Also Nico please say something.

“If something was bothering you, you could have talked about it with someone you trusted!” You know, Eden tried to do that with Teruko, and Teruko shot her down. I wonder if that’ll come into play…

“I don’t trust anyone here.” :O Well that’s a reveal.

Woo new Hu sprite! She is breaking down! But bestie please I don’t think you can fix them!

“Hu, I—“ Nico looks so done lmao.

“You trust me, right?” They just say they didn’t. Man, she is not beating the savior complex allegations with this one, huh?

Bro please let Nico talk.

“Are you a billionaire? Because that’s rich!” Ace you are not as clever as you think you are. xD

“Murder is murder…” Indeed, J the voice of reason.

“Why can’t either Ace or Nico simply tell us what happened?” You know we’re fucked when Arturo’s the voice of reason. Although I imagine Ace will shout at him that he doesn’t remember because he was unconscious.

[Ace shouts at Arturo] Got the reason wrong, but the shouting was there.

“Don’t throw two birds and a stone in a glass house, asshole.” Mixing two idiots there, big guy.

“They put some sort of cloth on my mouth…” Ah, there’s the unconsciousness shouting. By the way, full confirmation turpentine is just chloroform in this universe, nice.

[Charles lays down the law on Hu] Thank you, resident brain cell holder! How did they even get out of the first trial without you?

“I was going to!” Yo new Nico sprite is crazy!!! They’re going in!

“I was going to…” Oh, they’re trying to remain calm. That’s pretty cool of them!

“If you say what you think happened, I’ll help.” (Paraphrased) Yeah I was wondering how the dev was gonna write this without it being a twenty minute Nico monologue, this tracks.

Yo “fake” Closing Argument is crazy.

THE FUCKING LIGHT!!!! HOW THE FUCK DID IT NOT OCCUR TO ANY OF THE FIFTEEN PEOPLE THAT TRIED TO SOLVE THIS!!! I guess cause nothing pointed to it but y’know.

“How would that have worked?” Broom to move the fan? I came up with that in my original theory on this thing, though I think that was for the very first method which was clinically insane.

[Broom reveal] Ah, close but not quite. That’s actually quite smart! I’m surprised no one thought of that either.

[Releasing wire] …Am I stupid or does this not work? What would the wire get caught on?

{Yeah I still don’t think I get it? Like if the wire was moving from above the fan to around the broom, there’s nothing stopping it from going from around the broom to above the fan, so Ace would just fall. Did it get caught on the tape somehow? But how would Nico be able to put it around the broom then? Also how does the fan break? The wire would exert force from above and the side, not below, which is what the image makes it look like. I don’t think I understood this I’m so sorry.}

Oh, Ace woke up before the murder attempt was over! Good job badjoe for calling that!

Also are we far enough in to confirm Nico did this by themselves? I don’t have anything against those that believed otherwise, but I personally like it better this way. I imagine the theories aren’t 100% dead, as always, but y’know.

“And then I… Y’know…” THAT’S WHY THE BLOOD ON THE WIRES DOESN’T MAKE FUCKING SENSE!!! Man, as much as I love the EP 6 CG, it was not clear at all that they were that close, especially when the loose wire seemed closer to the entrance. {Looking back, yeah, I’m just not good at perspective on these rooms. The wires were closer to Ace than it looked}.

… Well there’s the small bit on the end of the loose wire that I’m still not sure how it got there, but close enough!

{Yeah it’s not. Believe it or not, I don’t even think the canon method fully explains the fucking blood.

How the fuck was Nico using this exactly? I imagine the small bit of blood on the end is from the noose (which funnily enough, I kinda called there would be a noose, just got where Ace’s neck would be wrong), so then the middle is the part they used as a garrote. But… then where did the blood on the wire on the fan come from? Where they using both simultaneously?

Am I losing my fucking mind? How is it possible I still don’t understand the evidence even after All That? Has my brain simply rotted? And don’t even get me started on everything that wasn’t brought up! What the hell even is this case?

Then again, it’s midnight when I’m writing these hindsight observations, so I don’t think I’m operating at full brain capacity}

“What an interesting murder plan.” Veronika I love you.

“I tried to kill Ace and pin the murder on Hu. What else should I say?” I love you too Nico.

“And after all’s said and done, you can’t even say something as simple as “sorry”?” … Is Nico about to secret quote us?

“I tried to kill you because I don’t like you. Even now, there’s still no use to try and pretend that I like you. If I say “sorry,” you’re still going to hate me. So what else should I say?” Okay crisis averted. Still, this is a really interesting perspective, and I love it a lot. It calls back to Nico not understanding niceties like “please pass the salt,” which, relatable. If they’re not sorry, and Ace won’t get anything out of it, why lie? Very fun.

“D-Do you even regret what you did?” Poor Rose she’s taking this so badly T_T She still doesn’t have an answer as if Nico ever wanted to paint or not.

“I’m not Levi; of course I feel bad about something like that! I’m not heartless!” Yikes on calling Levi heartless, but interesting line for character analysis I guess.

“That was the worst choice that I’ve made in my life.” Wow, really cool new sprite and a lot of Nico info, this is awesome for us Nico enjoyers! (I call myself a Nico enjoyer like I don’t love every single character in the cast lol).

“My teachers, my classmates, my father…” Holy shit this is depressing.

“I’m not the victim here.” Damn, Nico. Just loving all this.

“So I don’t see the point in acting sorry.” Holy shit the sprites and the writing are on point today! {I’m sorry if my commentary’s not exactly thrilling, sometimes I’m just too invested to do anything but stare in awe.}

Rose: “I don’t know how to feel anymore” Sibling can you please give her a fucking answer damn.

“What does this have to do with the case? Everything.” Are we… doing “the pulley was used because they weren’t strong enough to murder otherwise” or…? I don’t know where else this would go.

“Coincidence? Hardly.” Does… Does Teruko already have Eden clocked (heh) as the murderer? No, right? It’s the strength thing probs.

“…They specifically intended for this murder case to be similar to Nico’s murder.” Wait does she actually think it’s Ace or Eden what?

[Non-stop, Bound Wrists] … I have nothing. Nico didn’t bind Ace’s wrists. What is happening.

[Bullet fired] Okay, slight nitpick that I’m pretty sure bothers me and no one else. I get that it’s hard to come up with phrases to shoot bullets at, but “there’s no evidence of that” or some variation is the thing that gets shot in, like, 90% of these Non-Stops Debates. Again, not really important, just wanted to point out a pet peeve of mine.

“One of the pieces of evidence was taken directly from the crime scene…” Oh now we’re bringing up the tape! Teruko didn’t identify it in the spinny thing so I was wondering if she was going to make the connection on her own, but I guess I should have never doubted the Queen.

“I finally figured out what this tape is…” Okay that makes sense. But has she actually clocked (heh x2) that Eden or Ace must have taken it? She’s acting real chill about it.

“It’s the tape from the gym.” (Paraphrased) Woo! It feels super satisfying to finally read those words in a trial setting. Another exceedingly common badjoe W, as they’re who pointed out the tape’s disappearance to me.

“That time Rose and I went to the gym together…” Oh so she knows knows.

“But didn’t MonoTV clean up the gym?” Yeah that would be convenient for you huh. There’s still a chance Ace is the culprit and she’s trying to defend him, but it’s looking rough.

{Actually in retrospect yeah what the fuck?}

“…I attempted to restore the gym to its original condition.” Which would include the tape being there. It might be over chat.

“… why didn’t you recognize it earlier, Rose?” She didn’t look at the crime scene queen. But it was in the trash. Geez Rose is just gonna feel awful after this trial, I’m really interested to see where her character will go.

“Wooow!” Fucking David jumpscare-

Yo why’s David of all people being a hater you wanted them to lose the trial.

[David blames Arturo for Arei’s death] Considering Felicity, low blow. I hate David so much (/affectionate).

“I can’t even recall what day that happened.” Oh so she’s breaking down breaking down.

[Rose speech] The Rose angst is insane this episode, I’m loving every second. In addition, there might be a line here that could point to Rose!MM. But to keep the habit, I’m not elaborating on that (on this post).

“Rose. You are helpful.” Let me ignore the Terurose agenda for a moment and point out that Teruko’s still being way too chill about this if she’s about to call out Eden. Is she putting on a front? She mentioned hurting when Eden talked to her in the kitchen, so she probably does care, but isn’t letting herself show it? Oof if true.

“That I could be dismissive […] without consequences.” Oh we might be starting the “Teruko learns to trust a bit again” arc sooner than I expected. Cool! Also she’s not about to secret quote us right? {She wasn’t}.

“Thank you, Rose.” Okay I am no longer ignoring the Terurose agenda this ship is about to pop off I feel and I love that.

“…that tells me exactly who the murderer could be.” It might be Edenover.

Select Two People! But she said after Ace ran out, right? Is she gonna point at Ace and Eden, or herself and Eden?

Nope, Ace and Eden. Well, those are the two I landed on!

“It’s you two, right?” [Voice Line] You make it sound like Ace!Accomplice or Eden!Accomplice are even like remotely possible, and I find that funny.

“What’s your reasoning?” Veronika I love you but she’s spent the last ten minutes explaining her reasoning.

By the way, while Teruko’s repeating more or less the same lockdown logic I must have explained in at least three or four different posts (honestly kinda surreal ngl), it’s gonna be really funny if the only reason the class can confidently rule out Teruko as a suspect is because her handwriting sucks too much which is honestly the best argument for her innocence besides protag privilege :v

“I’m the least suspicious because I’ve been helping” is the second best argument lol.

“But to be frank, most of you are incapable of [acting logically]” Tell ‘em Teruko!

I’ll refrain from pointing bv out every suspicious Eden line because I always feel like I’m leaning too much on confirmation bias for it, but let’s be clear, I’m seeing them.

Hu: “Eden isn’t the killer! Don’t accuse her!” Bro.

“I do have evidence!” BDA?

Called it! If we’re bringing it up this early, though… I’m assuming it’s not so simple.

“You all are moving way too fucking fast.” I feel the same way Ace. {For the first time in the trial}.

“Hold on.” Wait is David gonna be the one to bring in the possible workaround(s)? Why the- I thought you wanted to lose? What the fuck is he even doing anymore???

“Oh my my my. That’s an issue.” You saw the body didn’t you.

“Because I’m actually the first person to see the body.” Well, there goes the “See No Evil” idea, which I kinda liked. Unless he’s just lying, which would honestly make more sense; he’d be trying to lead the trial astray again.

Okay but this is adorable.

“… at least one innocent person.” David, it’s- it’s at least two. How are this bad at math.

Nico: “Do you expect everyone to believe such an obvious lie?” This really is the Nico episode, huh? But it does make sense for them to push Ace as the culprit, I guess.

“He’s lying? Really?” Poor Levi’s got no fucking clue what’s going on.

“… he just conveniently avoided [the BDA group]” oh right they searched the whole floor before going to the playground David’s story is practically impossible.

Alright who’s gonna make the “What’s your source?” “I made it the fuck up!” meme with J/Nico and David?

“The only person who I need to believe me is Teruko.”

…

?????????????????????????????

(I feel like I write that exact sequence of characters every episode)

Are you just trying to go for a Teruvid angle to counteract the Terurose earlier? (/silly but really what the fuck-)

[David explains about Teruko’s skepticism] Yeah I guess. But, just so we’re clear: David still thinks the culprit is Ace and is just doing this to make them lose the trial right? Because otherwise what the actual fuck.

“AllI want is for Teruko to distrust others.” Motherfucker what-

[David’s whole Thing] You know, I really thought, I really fucking thought after Ep13, that we would get a break of a few episodes of David Bullshit, but no! What in the ever loving fuck is he even doing anymore???? No theories at this point, it is almost 11 PM where I am I do not have the brainpower to deal with this son of a bitch.

Levi: “Now that I think about it, Eden is in a good position to be Arei’s killer after all.” I feel a scrum debate forming.

“…why would I help it piece [the note] back together…?” I was right to avoid the bias. This line could be perfectly innocent, but the moment I read it, my mind said “she’s saying this too confidently, she had it planned, it’s Edenover.”

“Why… Levi, why?” While I do think Levi!Accomplice just 100% died of it wasn’t dead already, this line does read very funny with the context of that theory.

[Eden Breakdown] Man, {even after how much I’ve been sussing Eden in this and every other episode}, it sure does look like Ace is the culprit huh? Like, this scene is so beautiful and incredible it might just sway me to Ace!Culprit. The CGs are amazing, the music and the voice acting is terribly moving, the dialogue’s fantastic, holy fucking shit. I almost want to cry that was so fantastic. I— I wish I had more words, but that just left me speechless.

-

General Thoughts:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!

(/positive)

I don’t think I could have asked for more, this is just fucking perfect. Nico’s whole thing was great, the Rose angst was unexpected but wholly welcome, the tape reveal was revealed, David… Chiem, and the Eden CG stuff. Just absolutely fantastic all around.

…Slightly miffed the blood on the wires is still somehow not 100% consistent with the described method but WHATEVER it WORKS i do NOT wanna look at those fucking things again.

Theory Updates

Yeah it’s Ace.

Okay that’s dramatic lol. Eden!Culprit is not 100% dead, but off the top of my head, I can’t actually think of anything the characters can use to clear Ace rn. The only reason I believed Eden!Culprit over Ace!Culprit is that I didn’t think Teruko and even Eden could have missed Ace grabbing the tape upon waking up, especially with the sprite disappearing when Eden was on the ground, but… uh… apparently Teruko doesn’t trust herself so much.

With that glaring issue fixed, I actually think Ace!Culprit is significantly more solid than Eden!Culprit. No workaround needed for the BDA, no weird “are they even strong enough to do this” questions, and while the fish paradox Exists, Ace might have thought that putting fish there would make people think of Nico. Which, given the killer also somehow expected the class to figure out the similarities to Nico’s method when only a grand total of four people saw it, one of them being Nico themselves; yeah, I’d think he might be stupid enough for that.

EDIT: Also forgot to mention, Ace waking up before the murder attempt was over solves the issue of him figuring it all out. He actually straight up saw the method, he’d know how to replicate it.

And those Teruko-Eden CGs, man… I always had to really suspend my disbelief on some of Eden’s lines, even with venus’ narrative defense, but… come on. I’ve said this before; I have my limits.

All that added to the fact that Teruko seems to really want to start her “begin to trust again” arc, the fact David pushed for Eden!Culprit… it’s looking Ace!Culprit.

To be clear, there’s still things like Eden’s “Teruko, wait—!” that work better under Eden!Culprit, but I feel those are comparable to other potentially small foreshadowing moments such as Ace being weirdly fixated on the carousel. Eden!Culprit is, again, not fully dead, as other than strength, BDA and fish (all of which have workarounds), there’s not much concrete evidence clearing her. But at this point, I… don’t know. I’ve always felt kinda bad reading scenes like the kitchen talk with Teruko with as much suspicion as I did, but these final CGs, hmm…

Maybe my perspective will change with a clearer mind in the morning, but these are “first impressions” for a reason. They’re not meant to be very cohesive.

And if I’m wrong and it is Eden, well then I’ll have been wrong for a week or two instead of a year, so. Who cares at this point.

Speaking of getting things wrong, the Nico thing. I got Nico!SoloAceAttacker (is that the right notation?) right, and the really obvious stuff like using the stool to reach the fan. I’m also gonna give myself half points for guessing the broom was used to move the wire on the fan all the way back in my first post, but other than that, I did not cook. In my defense, a lot of the evidence (Nico’s missing cloak, the missing tape on the pull-up bar unless it’s somehow the roll, the isolated weights and toppled weight rack, and who knows what else) ended up not mattering in the slightest, which threw me off. Also, I call bullshit on this explaining the blood on the wires, that splatter pattern still doesn’t make sense with what was described. I guess my life isn’t Nico’s after all.

On the other hand, I’m a bit more confident on the remaining aspects of the Arei murder theory now that I believe the culprit is strong enough to pull it all off without issue, but we’ll have to see on that. My guess for culprit ended up changing for now, but the reasoning for arriving at them (tape) was solid, so we’ll see how that pans out.

All in all, immaculate episode. Chef’s kiss. Perfection. Holy shit. See you again soon!

[flickering-chandelier]

I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Pairing: Azriel x Bestfriend! Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been best friends for years, and slowly Reader starts to fall for him. He eventually feels the same way, but after Reader overhears a conversation she wasn’t meant to, she has doubts about him.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, a little swearing

Work Count: 5.2k

You twisted around in front of the mirror, trying to look at the dress from every angle. “What do you think, Az?”

Your friend looked at you, his eyes trailing down your body, and wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Really?” You faced the mirror again, cocking your head. “I think it’s pretty.”

“It cinches weirdly around your middle,” he said.

You studied yourself in the mirror again, realizing he was right. “Wow. See, this is why I bring you along. Who knew your spymaster focus would be so helpful for fashion.”

He laughed, throwing his head back against the couch he was sitting on, and you couldn’t help but smile. You always felt a twinge of pride whenever you could make the stoic shadowsinger laugh like that.

“So this one, then?” You asked, gesturing to the first dress you had tried on earlier. 

“That is the one,” he shot you a lopsided smile. “The poor fool won’t know what hit him.”

Later, you plopped down into the chair next to Azriel’s in the sitting room at the House, groaning. 

Azriel arched a brow in question. 

“You were right,” you sighed. “He was a fool.”

Az poured you some of the amber liquid he was drinking, handing the glass to you. “What kind of fool? Do I need to defend your honor?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

Laughing dryly, you said. “No, nothing like that. Just a lame date. I can’t believe I bought a new dress for that guy.”

He smiled sadly at you. “Hey, the right guy will go crazy for that dress.”

You winced, taking a sip of the drink. “I guess,” you grumbled.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. “You know I won’t let you be all grumbly by yourself.” 

Smiling faintly, you rose from your seat and settled in his lap, resting your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping comfortingly around you. 

“When’s it gonna happen for us, Az? When do we get to find what Rhys and Feyre have?” You asked, quietly. 

He sighed, leaning his cheek into the top of your head. “I don’t know. But at least you and I are alone together.” 

You laughed, and he tightened his arms around you slightly, clearly pleased. You felt your sad heart mending slightly as your best friend in the world held you long into the night.

---

A few days later, you sighed, pushing your food around your plate at lunch in Velaris with Azriel.

Azriel watched you, those hazel eyes calculating. “You’re not still moping about that date, are you?”

“I’m not moping,” you scolded him. “And no, of course it’s not about the date. He is not worthy of my sighs.”

The side of his mouth curved into a smile. “So, what is it then?”

Shrugging noncommittally, you said, “Honestly, I don’t know. I just feel…bummed.”

That smile of his dropped, his mouth thinning into a line. “Are you done eating?”

You blinked, confused. “Yeah, I think so.”

He tossed money onto the table, nodding his head to the side, indicating it was time to go. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked, rising to follow him.

“You’ll see,” he said, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you walked. 

It took several minutes before you knew what he was planning and you grinned up at him as you realized where he was leading you. 

He smiled, kissing the top of your head as you neared your favorite ice cream shop. 

Your heart swelled as Azriel ordered your favorite ice cream. You should have known. Your parents had always taken you here when you needed a pick-me-up, and Azriel had continued the tradition, knowing it always made you feel better, at least for a little bit.

Gazing up at the man who knew you so very well, your heart began to crack.

---

Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you settled on the couch beside him, tucking you against his side as his whole family roamed around the River House. 

It had been Feyre’s idea to get everyone together for an evening, just to spend time in each other’s company. 

“How are you?” he said, eyes boring into yours. He had been extra watchful of you lately, since your mood had dimmed weeks ago. He couldn’t understand why this dark cloud had been following you around lately. It broke his heart that he couldn’t fix it.

“Good,” you murmured, smiling faintly at him. 

His brow furrowed, but before he could question you further, Cassian plopped down on the other side of you, grinning.

Cassian pulled your attention then, telling an animated story about how training had been going in the Illyrian mountains. 

Azriel wasn’t really listening, still studying you. You laughed at something that Cassian had said, the sound bright, bouncing off the walls, your smile lighting up your face. The tightness in Azriel’s chest eased a bit.

Feyre and Elain beckoned you into the kitchen then, and you followed, leaving Azriel and Cassian alone in the sitting room for the moment. 

Cassian nodded after you, shooting Azriel a knowing look. “What’s the deal with her?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel said, sighing. “She’s been… off lately.”

Cassian looked contemplative. “Have you ever thought about… you know…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“What, being with her? Romantically?” Azriel furrowed his brow.

“Yeah. I mean, you guys are cuddly enough.”

“Not like that, though,” Azriel said. “No, it’s never been like that between us.”

Cassian shrugged. “Okay. But, you never thought that you might be missing out?”

Azriel thought about it for a moment, what it would be like. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about her like that.”

“Maybe you should.”

Before Azriel could respond, Nesta stalked into the room, taking Cassian’s attention completely. 

---

It had been months since you had come home from that terrible date, since Azriel had held you that night, since your mind and your heart began to wonder.

Azriel had always been your friend. Though he was beautiful and amazing, you had never before thought about being anything other than his friend. Nothing between you had really changed at all in the last few months, and yet… 

It was Azriel’s face in your mind as you fell asleep. It was Azriel’s touches that you dreamed of, over and over again. It was Azriel, who knew you so well, who was always, always there for you, that occupied your mind day in and day out.

You knew he had sensed a shift in you. But you didn’t think he understood what that shift was. That you had, without even really realizing it, fallen in love with him. 

Cauldron, you were doomed. 

“Where did you just go?” Feyre said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Nowhere,” you lied.

She narrowed her eyes at you, bouncing Nyx in her lap. 

“Okay, I actually really need to talk to somebody about this. But if I tell you, you can’t tell anybody, not even Rhys.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded in agreement. 

“I kinda have feelings for Azriel.”

Feyre bit her lip, trying to hide her surprise. “Since when?”

You shrugged. “It happened slowly. Little things started sticking out to me all of a sudden and now… Now I can’t stop thinking about him. And I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell him how you feel,” Feyre offered, smiling softly.

You groaned. “But I don’t think he sees me that way. If I tell him, it could ruin our whole friendship.”

Feyre tilted her head, contemplating. “You think so? Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s Az. I can’t imagine that he would ever abandon someone he loves for any reason.”

“I guess,” you said distantly. “But it would make things really awkward, at the very least.”

Feyre smiled. “Or, it could turn into something amazing.”

You scoffed. “With our luck in love? Unlikely.”

“Maybe nothing has worked out for you two so far because you’re supposed to be together.”

Your heart swelled at the thought, but you stomped down the hope. “Maybe,” you said, your mind wandering again. “Maybe.”

---

Your blood rushed in your ears, your body tense as you and Azriel sat together in the sitting room of the House the next evening. It physically hurt to be near him these days. Your body ached to be close to his.

“What’s up with you?” Azriel asked.

“Nothing, I just…” you trailed off, looking across the room at him, willing yourself to tell the truth. “I love you, Az.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

He didn’t get it. He didn’t bat an eye at you, at his friend he had loved platonically for so long. Your heart sank. 

It hurt to look at him now. You knew it couldn't be the same between you, not now that you had foolishly fallen for him. 

You took a sip of your drink, wishing it was stronger, and forced yourself through easy conversation with your best friend. 

---

“What’s wrong?” you asked him immediately upon seeing him weeks later, and Azriel couldn’t help but smile. You had always been able to sense the shift in his mood, even if things had felt… different between the two of you lately.

He sighed. “We’re unlucky in love, you and I.”

You stiffened, and he wondered if he had said something wrong, but continued. “You know, the whole Mor, Elain…thing. I’ve just been thinking about what you said that night ages ago. I just wonder when it’ll happen for us.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked to you, and you gulped, tense in a way he’d never seen when it was just the two of you. “What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly. “I’m sorry. That you’re feeling unlucky in love.”

He lifted a brow. “Are you okay?”

You nodded then stood up quickly, walking toward the door. Azriel stood, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling gently so you would turn back to face him. “Hey. Talk to me,” he said softly.

Your eyes swam with emotion, and you seemed to be pondering what to say. “I can’t talk to you about this,” you said quietly, your voice breaking.

“What do you mean?” Azriel tried to push down the hurt he felt. “We talk about everything.”

“Not this, Az,” you said sadly, before gently pulling your hand out of his grasp and disappearing down the hallway.

What the hell. 

Azriel spent nearly an hour contemplating what had just happened. Were you upset with him? Or were you just keeping something from him? If you were, why?

He ran over the last several weeks in his mind, all of his interactions with you. You had definitely been acting differently around him, sitting further away from him, not spending as much time with him one-on-one, but he assumed you would talk to him when you were ready. Evidently, you still were not ready. But, what could it possibly be that you couldn’t talk to him about it?

It was his relationships, well his lack of relationship with Mor and Elain that seemed to set this off. 

And then he remembered what Cassian had said weeks ago, that maybe he should consider you as a romantic partner. His brother was always smarter than most people gave him credit for. Did Cassian know something? Was he trying to tell Azriel?

His head spun. Did you have feelings for him?

It would actually explain a lot of your behavior for the past few weeks, especially if you thought that he didn’t feel the same way. 

Did he feel the same way?

He sat back in his chair. Why hadn’t he ever considered you before? You were beautiful, of course, and one of the very best people he had ever known. And you were his best friend, who knew him better than he knew himself, in many ways. Who he could talk to about anything. Who already loved him so much. 

Maybe he should be with you. 

He did love you, of course. So… maybe the two of you should give it a shot.

Before he could think it through, he went to your room, knocking gently. He had to know if he was right.

You answered the door in a thin night dress, your hair cascading down your shoulders. Gods, you were beautiful. What an idiot he'd been.

“Az?” You asked.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his. He gauged your reaction, waiting for you to tense, but you didn't. You melted into him, placing your hand on his chest and gazing up at him with big, beautiful eyes.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned down, and you tilted your face up to meet him, longing written all over your face. His heart rate spiked as his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was slow, sweet, exploratory. A new dance between old friends. 

You moaned slightly, twining your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to you.

He growled, pushing you back further into your bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot.

You had a long night ahead of you.

---

It had been about a week since you and Azriel had stepped into a new form of your relationship.

It was funny, actually. Not that much had actually changed, except you were more comfortable around him now, like you had been before the last few weeks had complicated things. The two of you spent so much time together one on one before, the only difference now was all the kissing and the bedroom activities. And how many times you would tell him that you loved him, your eyes shining with that love.

He was starting to feel like he hadn't thought it all the way through. He loved you. Of course he did. But, he was worried that your love for him was deeper. And he couldn't bear the thought of hurting you.

“Where'd your mind go, Az?” Cassian asked, and Rhysand chuckled.

“He's thinking about his new girlfriend,” Rhys grinned.

Azriel’s jaw tightened. “I'm worried,” he admitted.

“About?” Cassian asked, leaning forward, his full attention on Azriel.

“I think her feelings are deeper than mine. I'm starting to worry that I may have…” he trailed off, not wanting to admit it.

“Settled?” Rhys offered.

Azriel winced, but nodded. “Maybe.”

“What, you don't love her?” Cassian asked.

“I do. Of course I love her.”

“Well, there you go,” Cassian said, waving a hand dismissively. “I think you're overthinking this.”

“Maybe just give it time,” Rhysand said contemplatively. “You know how she is. She feels things very deeply. You might catch up to her faster than you think.”

“Maybe. I hope so,” Azriel said, his mind wandering away again, back to you. Back to the love that shone in your eyes when you looked at him.

He would have to be careful. He would not break your heart. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

---

Years later, snuggled up to Azriel, watching children screaming and running around the River House the night before Winter Solstice, you couldn’t imagine being happier. 

Azriel and you had been talking about trying for children soon. Your heart swelled as you watched Cassian’s and Rhysand’s children grow up together, picturing your own children growing up in all this love, with cousins and aunts and uncles who would love them so much.

You smiled and Azriel kissed your temple. “I know exactly what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your skin. 

“You do not,” you smiled.

“I do,” he said, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “You wanna try for a baby tonight?” His breath tickled your ear, his voice dipping suggestively. 

You laughed, playfully shoving him away, and he grinned. “Tonight? The one night a year we sleep under the same roof as our entire family? Absolutely not.” 

He pulled you into his lap, kissing you sweetly. “Tomorrow then?” he whispered. 

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled with love. “We’ll see,” you teased. 

Elain called you into the kitchen then, and you went to join her, shooting a wink at Az over your shoulder as you went. He grinned.

Your family was scattered all over the house, leaving Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel alone in the living room next to the kitchen with some of the children.

You could hear them laughing together as you helped Elain prep some of the food for the following morning. 

Your ears perked up when you heard your name and Elain shot you a curious look, clearly eavesdropping along with you.

“Remember when you two first got together?” Rhysand asked, likely to Azriel.

“Yes,” Az chuckled softly. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

“I can’t believe you were ever unsure about her,” Cassian said. “That you were worried you had settled.”

Shock jolted through your entire body, your blood pounding in your ears. You nearly dropped the plate that you were holding.

“I was a fool,” Azriel said, and you could picture him shaking his head slightly. “I can’t imagine life without her. I can’t believe I lasted so long just being her friend.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” Rhysand teased. 

“Oh, like you’re not the same with Feyre,” Azriel shot back, and all three brothers erupted into laughter. 

You looked at Elain finally, her expression solemn, like she could see right through to your soul, how broken you felt. 

Without a word, you left the kitchen, going up to the guest room that you and Azriel occupied when you stayed with Feyre and Rhysand. 

Azriel had settled for you. He was sad that night that he first kissed you, sad about not getting a shot with Mor or Elain, so he had gone to the one person he knew would never deny him. 

All this time, all these years, he had just been settling with you because he didn’t want to be alone. You felt sick.

You had fallen in love with him, and to him you were just there. Ready for the taking. That’s why he chose you. 

Your stomach lurched, and you scrambled to the bathroom, spilling your guts, hot tears streaming down your face, sobs shaking your whole body.

---

Azriel frowned sometime later, wondering why you hadn’t come back yet. He wandered away from his brothers, finding Elain alone in the kitchen. She frowned at him as he entered, looking angrier than he had ever seen her. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go ask your wife?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? Where is she?”

“She went upstairs a while ago,” Elain said curtly, turning back to her pastries. 

Azriel’s heart pounded. What had happened to make Elain angry at him? Why had you gone upstairs without saying goodnight to anyone? 

He rushed up to the room, confused when he didn’t see you anywhere, until he heard you sniffling in the washroom. His heart lurched, panic setting in as he swung the door open, finding you lying on the floor, hugging your legs to your chest, facing away from him. 

He whispered your name, his anxiety increasing. When you didn’t answer, he sat down next to you, rubbing your back soothingly, gently setting your head into his lap. He saw your tear stained cheeks, your red eyes, and the breath was sucked right out of his lungs.

“What happened, love? What is it?” he asked, trying to sound calm.

You refused to look at him, staring ahead blankly. 

He had never seen you like this. “Honey, you’re scaring me, please tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. 

Finally, you sat up and walked back into the bedroom, still not looking at him. As you did, you mumbled, “you settled.”

“What?” he asked, following you into the bedroom. 

You slid under the covers, facing away from him. “You settled with me. You didn’t want to be alone, so you kissed me that night. And you settled with me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, quietly. “I did not settle. I love you. So much.”

You buried yourself further into the covers, hiding yourself from him. His heart ached. “All this time,” you whispered. “All this time. You must have been just waiting for Mor or Elain to change their minds, huh?”

“No,” he said, his voice coming out quiet and crackly. He rounded the bed, willing you to look at him. He settled on his knees, looking into your eyes, cupping your cheek with a scarred hand. “No. It was never like that. It was never about them. I love you, I always have,” he said, willing you to believe him, to feel that he meant it. 

A tear slid down your cheek. His heart broke further as he wiped it away gently with his thumb. “That’s not what Cassian said,” you whispered.

Azriel sighed, his eyes pleading. “I was worried. When we first started dating, I was worried that your feelings were deeper than mine. You always feel things so deeply, my love, and that’s one of the things that I love the most about you. I was scared that I wasn’t at the same level that you were, and you would get hurt because of it.”

“Looks like I have,” you whispered. 

“But it’s not like that now, it hasn’t been like that for years. I’ve known for so long that you are the only person in the world that I could ever want. Please,” Azriel whispered. “Please believe that I am so in love with you. It was one stupid conversation ages ago, and I’m so sorry that I hurt you, but you have to believe me. You are the love of my life.”

“I don’t know how to believe you right now,” you said quietly, your voice breaking. 

Azriel’s heart broke completely. Your face was completely blank in a way he had never seen before. “What can I do?” 

“I don’t know, Az. I need -- I need space.”

He gulped, but nodded, rising to his feet slowly “Okay. I’ll be downstairs, if you need me.”

You didn’t respond. He willed his legs to move, to leave you behind, broken, in the bed you were supposed to share.

Cassian and Rhys were the only people left downstairs by the time he made it back down, drinking and laughing together. 

One look at their brother’s face, and they went silent.

“I fucked up,” Azriel said, taking the glass from Cassian’s hand and shooting the amber liquid back in one gulp.

Cassian handed Azriel the whole bottle, who would have laughed, if he hadn’t ripped his own heart to shreds that night.

He took a swig before saying quietly, “she heard our conversation. She thinks I settled with her.”

“Shit,” Cassian said, his face falling. 

“What did you tell her?” Rhys asked, his expression solemn too.

“The truth. I was worried that in the beginning that she loved me more than I loved her, but now… Gods, I’m so in love with her. But she said she can’t trust me anymore,” he said, a tear running down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

His brothers were silent for a moment, thinking. 

After a moment, Cassian said, “Yeah, I don’t know how you fix this, Az.”

Azriel laughed humorlessly, taking another sip from the bottle. “Thanks.”

“She might just need some time,” Rhysand said. 

“You didn’t see her,” Azriel said, his voice breaking again. “She was…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I’ve never seen her like that. She’s wrecked. Because of me.” 

His brothers stayed up with him for a long time, trying to console him, but he eventually sent them away to their happy mates who still loved them. 

He laid on the couch, his wings drooping on the floor, his heart hurting. He hadn’t spent a night away from you since you had gotten together unless he was on a mission. This felt fundamentally wrong.

Eventually, he got up, wandering through the quiet house. He made his way into the study, digging out some paper. He had to fix this. He needed you to understand. 

---

You’d barely slept at all, and winced when the sun started lightly filtering into the room that shouldn’t be so empty. 

You didn’t know how to feel, what to think. You knew Azriel loved you. But was it enough? Was it the same, all-consuming love that you felt for him? 

How could you ever be sure?

After just one night, you missed the heat of his body against yours, hated rolling over to see the other side of the bed empty. 

Cauldron, you had been talking about children less than 12 hours ago, and now…

You shoved the thought away, your eyes still burning from crying all night. You refused to start up again. 

What a Winter Solstice this would turn out to be. Maybe you should just go home.

Alone, in the apartment that you had turned into a home with Azriel. Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it, hard. You were strong, you would survive this. 

Whatever this ended up being.

Your mind was still spinning and you hadn’t yet gotten out of bed when there was a tentative knock on your door. 

“What?” you said, quietly, your voice not sounding like your own.

Azriel opened the door slowly, studying you as he lingered in the doorway. He looked awful, bags under his eyes, his clothes rumpled, his hair a mess, like he had run his hand through it over and over again. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. 

“Hi,” you replied timidly.

His face fell and you knew why. You had never sounded like that, not with him. 

He took a cautious step into the room, watching you closely. “I made something. For when you're ready,” he said, placing a stack of papers on the bedside table. 

You remained silent, not sure what to say. He swallowed, and turned to leave, but he stopped in the doorway, turning back to you. “I do love you. So much.”

His expression was pained, and you could tell he wanted to say more, but he just looked at you sadly before disappearing behind the door he closed behind him. 

It wasn’t until after you took a long bath that you had the courage to look at the papers he had left for you. You sat on the bed, pulling them into your lap, surprised at how many pages there were. 

On the top, in Azriel’s handwriting it said, “To My Dearest Love.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t stop the swell in your chest, the love that you felt for him. 

You were shocked as you read through page after page. He had written your story, the story of your love from his perspective, every date you had gone on, every Winter Solstice, every milestone. He detailed his thoughts as he went through each of those moments, all the things he loved about you, when he noticed new little things about you, even after being friends for so long. 

Tears were streaming down your face by the time you got to the end, where it read: 

You, my love, are everything. Everything. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you. 

I’m sorry that I was a fool. I’ll always be sorry that I hurt you. 

Whatever you decide, whatever you want going forward, I just hope that you’ll know how deeply I love you. 

---

Azriel had gone to the annual snowball fight with his brothers, only for a distraction. But his heart wasn’t in it, and after about ten minutes, his brothers had deemed his snowball game so pathetic that they called it off and all went inside to the cabin to drink. 

He knew he was being tragic company, so Azriel went back to the River House on his own, prepared to find a quiet corner to sulk in by himself. He hoped you had read what he stayed up all night writing, at least. Even if it didn’t change anything… 

He didn’t let himself dwell on what could happen. He didn’t know what he would do if you left him. 

He nearly fell over when he noticed that you were sitting in the living room that he had used his shadows to winnow into. 

You looked surprised too, but not unhappy. Relief flooded through him. 

“Hi,” you said, quietly. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice raspy. 

You stood up, walking toward him slowly, stopping a few steps from him. He longed to hold you, to make it all better, but he stayed where he was.

“I read it,” you whispered. 

He could only nod, his heart in his throat. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and his heart shattered, terror flooding through him before you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. 

He hugged you back instantly, holding you to him with crushing force. 

“I don’t want to be mad at you anymore,” you said into his chest. “I love you.”

Azriel felt like he was going to fall over, the only thing that was keeping him standing was you. “I love you,” he said, letting the tears fall freely down his cheeks, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I love you, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I get it now. What you wrote -- it helped me understand. And it was beautiful.”

“I’m still sorry I hurt you,” he said, his voice cracking.

You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him gently. “It’s okay, Az. I’m okay.”

Azriel took your face in his hands gently, kissing you like his life depended on it. He felt like it did. 

You let him kiss you for ages, until the two of you realized that you were no longer alone. Azriel looked up to see that his brothers had winnowed in and were now staring at the two of you. 

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Cassian said, bracing his hands on his knees dramatically before coming up and hugging you, lifting you into the air, while Rhys laughed behind him. “You guys really had me worried.”

“I take it you worked it all out?” Rhysand asked, kissing your cheek after Cassian set you back on the ground. 

“Yeah, we’re okay now,” you said, laughing at them.

Rhysand and Cassian did look extremely relieved, which made Azriel’s heart swell. He would always be thankful for his brothers. 

---

After a surprisingly successful Winter Solstice, you and Azriel made your way back home, now cuddling together in your bed, holding each other tightly. 

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “I’ll always be so thankful for you. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You snuggled closer into him. “We’re both lucky.”

Azriel laughed. “Speaking of getting lucky… you want to try for that baby now?”

You gawked at him, incredulously. “What, too soon?” he asked, smirking.

“Males are ridiculous,” you scolded him. 

After a beat, Azriel risked it. “I didn’t hear a no…”

You laughed, pulling him into a kiss. “You’re so stupid.”

Azriel grinned. “Oh, I know.”

@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch @batboyrhyrhy @1-s1mp-t00-much

[signedkoko]

HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???

Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

-🐚

Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.

When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed

You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face

It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow

You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way

He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord

Truly a shame

You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged

Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort

But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you

You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice

The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you

Something about it was so familiar

J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R

When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing

Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device

Unless you did it just for him?

R-K-J-E-R-K-J

" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "

Y-O-U

Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk

And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method

One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display

Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw

" COMATOSE. "

You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious

Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!

But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel

He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that

Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them

Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before

But he'd never heard of something like yours

Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle

You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved

Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures

After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!

While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you

From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction

Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled

He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear

But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with

Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to

Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of

Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites

The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you

But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats

" Silence. "

From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking

The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left

Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!

Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?

YOUR POWERS DID THAT???

He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too

Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!

[noearchives]

sober me up

(what happens when the one piece boys are drunk?)

characters: portgas d. ace, trafalgar d. water law, sanji.

note: personally i've never been drunk enough to the point where i lose my mind or anything like that ... so this is just based off of my imagination and stuff i see in movies ;;

cw/ tags: gender neutral reader, mentions of alcohol, unestablished relationship, mutual pining.

portgas d. ace

"woah,” ace whispers, head tilted to one side as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, saying your name in the same way he did when he met you for the first time.“is that really you?”

you're not sure if he’s putting up an act to flirt, or if he’s actually so drunk to the point where he can’t tell his imagination from reality. not knowing how to reply, you hand him a glass of water in a fluster in hopes that he’ll sober up, and he downs the entire thing in one go, mistaking it for liquor.

“wow,” ace says again, awestruck. it’s like his eyes are put in a spell to look at nothing else but you. his reaches for your face, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. nonsense runs off his tongue as he stumbles deep into your gaze in spirals. “you're so pretty i could kiss you.”

he pauses. “can i?”

fuck it, you think. he’s drunk out of his mind, you're tipsy enough to use it as an excuse. it won't hurt if you kissed your best friend who you’ve been pining for since the dawn of time when he won't even remember anything the day after, right?

so you agree to his request, and ace wastes no time with how quickly he slides his tongue into your mouth just after two seconds of his lips meeting yours— it’s like he doesn't want you to breathe.

when he finally lets go of you, you gasp like a fish out of water while he looks at you stupidly. his mind is filled with you, you, you. one kiss isn't enough to satisfy him— he’s been dreaming of this for months, afterall. with both hands on either side of your face, he makes a bold statement once again.

“let’s do that again.”

trafalgar d. water law

law doesn't drink much, but he can't say no to his crew when they offer. initially, he planned to stay sober for the rest of the night to look after all of you, but as shachi and penguin continue to pour him drink after drink, his head grows heavier with every sip of liquor.

he stays quiet even when he’s drunk. no bold confessions, no impulsive acts, nothing. he just watches his crew drink themselves stupid, the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

with the loud hustle of the bar and the deafening laughter of your crewmates, it’s hard to notice how intoxicated law has become until you feel a foreign weight on your shoulder. a white fur hat lands on your lap, and you only realise your captain’s resting his head on you with his eyes closed then.

“captain?” you say. your heart’s beating out of your chest. “captain, you're drunk.”

“i know.” he mumbles in reply, looking silly with his cheek squished against your shoulder.

“let me get you some water.” you try to move out of your seat, but your body doesn't budge. law’s arm holds you down firmly, and you feel the skin under his touch tingle. “captain," you say again, weaker this time. you're not sure if your lungs are working properly with how he's rendered you breathless. "you've gotta let me go," you say, betraying your heart.

"no," law mumbles against you. his hold on you tightens, and you swear he's nuzzling into your neck.

at that point, you decide that he's had one too many and that he needs to be sobered up or else he'd be in a sour mood the morning after. you awkwardly prop his arm on your shoulders as you drag him back to the polar tang with the knowing gazes of your crewmates on your backs, your captain's hat in your hand as you strain to support his weight.

"ah, young love." penguin sighs.

sanji

being an absolute lightweight, sanji's already swaying with his tie off and a few buttons undone after two shots.

"oh, my love." he sing-songs. my love? you raise an eyebrow at the nickname. "the way you look at me makes my stomach flip. your eyes are brighter than the stars, and the way you say my name tugs at my heartstrings. would you make a poor man like me happy by just looking his way?" he rambles, freestyling a verbal love letter for you right then and there. you've heard him do the same for robin and nami, but never for you. (until now, of course.)

the crew's swordsman physically cringes in second-hand embarrassment. "curly, do all of us a favor and shut that mouth of yours."

miraculously, sanji doesn't retort like he usually does. instead, he takes your hand in his as he continues his weird love poem. "if only this wasn't a dream, and i had the courage to confess my love for you in the real world. alas!"

... and he starts crying. actual tears rolling down his cheeks and everything. "but i know you would never love a pathetic man like me!" he sobs into your lap, kneeling before you as your ship's navigator averts her gaze out of embarrassment, grumbling about how her efforts of keeping his secret are wasted.

though ridiculously stupid, his confession made your heart stop. after all this time, it turns out that he's equally as smitten as you are when you thought his heart belonged to someone else. (it's hard not to assume with the way he behaves around good-looking women.)

"why did nobody tell me...?" you ask, looking around as the strawhats look away with a supressed grin.

"because he said he'll kick our asses if any of us said anything. geez, both of you are so stupid. can't you see the way he makes those disgusting heart eyes at you every time you pass by?" the swordsman grumbles.

sanji's arms are still tightly wrapped around your waist after he's done with his improv love poem. "you're so warm, even in my dreams..." he mumbles. it seems like he still hasn't realized this isn't a dream.

the two of you are going to have a looooong talk when he sobers up, you're sure.

[orchidyoonkook]

PG | KTH

Title: PG 

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point. 

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends. 

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother. 

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out. 

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too. 

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two. 

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay. 

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him. 

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long. 

Every time you could get it. 

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team. 

For four years. 

And then the university swim team.

For another four. 

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then. 

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would. 

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim. 

Thank god for sunglasses. 

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you. 

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet? 

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile. 

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong. 

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you. 

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung. 

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt. 

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that. 

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more. 

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught. 

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt. 

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually. 

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart. 

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water. 

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.  

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool. 

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days. 

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun. 

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really. 

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped. 

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking. 

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that. 

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches. 

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets. 

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?” 

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat. 

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes. 

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?” 

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him. 

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager. 

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit. 

And it works like a charm. 

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that. 

Definitely not.  

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again. 

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding. 

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air. 

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend. 

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say. 

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand. 

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end. 

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother. 

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction. 

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen. 

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool. 

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel. 

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you. 

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch. 

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge. 

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell. 

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims. 

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven. 

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday. 

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for. 

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids. 

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you. 

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed. 

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break. 

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you. 

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually. 

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit. 

So, with quickly shrinking fifteen feet between you two, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer. 

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks. 

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close. 

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you. 

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there. 

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed. 

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends. 

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays. 

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating. 

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother. 

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall. 

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent. 

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained. 

And yet. 

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot. 

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you. 

But you push him away. 

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t. 

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend. 

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’. 

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more. 

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment. 

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air. 

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages. 

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself. 

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did. 

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left. 

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist. 

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think. 

Because Fourteen isn't here. 

And old habits die hard. 

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising. 

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner. 

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him. 

Safe. 

You’re safe. 

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body. 

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous. 

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years. 

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung. 

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan. 

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety. 

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions. 

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight. 

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood. 

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor. 

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment. 

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by. 

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?” 

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now. 

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth. 

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth. 

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed. 

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back. 

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it. 

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him. 

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black. 

Oh you are so fucked.

 “As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like. 

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine. 

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point. 

My Girl.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once. 

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up. 

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth. 

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips. 

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does. 

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes. 

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck. 

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows,  the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing. 

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it. 

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine. 

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it. 

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night. 

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere. 

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you. 

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone. 

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part. 

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently. 

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end. 

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.” 

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders. 

It makes you smile wickedly. 

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw. 

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you. 

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick. 

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything. 

Yet.

 “Can you behave for that long?” 

You smirk. 

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe. 

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well. 

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby. 

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need. 

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs. 

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae. 

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky. 

Mesmerizing. 

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his. 

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him. 

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge. 

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat. 

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a  low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure. 

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you. 

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks. 

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips. 

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees. 

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it. 

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well. 

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you. 

Taehyung. 

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung. 

Wants you. 

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving. 

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned. 

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side. 

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming. 

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess. 

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis. 

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes. 

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body. 

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again. 

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time. 

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pour in your body. The damningly  deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed. 

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again. 

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it. 

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out. 

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth. 

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time. 

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents. 

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact. 

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.” 

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine. 

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and  delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.” 

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled. 

Blissful. 

Then pushes back in, methodically. 

Torturous. 

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is. 

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over. 

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas. 

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well. 

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you. 

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough. 

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own. 

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless. 

It’s a great move but it’s exerting. 

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone. 

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around. 

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass. 

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain. 

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance. 

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you. 

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care. 

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane. 

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be. 

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you. 

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion. 

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and  drown in once another’s embrace. 

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another. 

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect. 

Before consequences kick in and regrets form. 

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets. 

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning. 

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away. 

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning. 

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out. 

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies. 

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground. 

“All of it. Any of it.”

There. 

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him. 

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened. 

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts. 

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself. 

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion. 

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg. 

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place. 

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move. 

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right. 

An idea strikes. 

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door. 

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

[randomhealer]

(L&D) When a hot scene comes

characters: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Luke & Kieran

warnings: Crack, don't take it seriously, not reviewed, GN reader, use of the word dick in Sylus' part only once, but really nothing explicit I think

n/a: did you see some parts cut? if so I'm sorry, this has been with me for a while and it was a big smut actually but I tried to redo it- sylus part was so big it was a whole one shot i cut off lmao, Happy bday Doktah zayne

Xavier

Xavier is watching attentively but not like a movie but like a documentary in his mind, he is using all his brain cells to remember important points of the scene. Do you like the scene in front of you? Do you like it when the man does those things? Okay, so he'll remember to be a little more dominant next time, the movements, some lines... he'll try to remember that if you find it hot...

Xavier is more attentive to observing you and your reactions than in the scene, he already has what he needs so he observes closely... your cute little smiles, your lip bites, your low giggles, sighs... he doesn't really like you giving such reactions to another guy, even if it's on TV, he'll still let it go this time since he'll use what he learned to his advantage

(If you look to the side you will see Xavier looking at you sideways while he has a pillow on his lap, he looks a little angry)

Zayne

He's fine with what you chose to watch, he won't blink because of you even if the movie is boring, although he's a little surprised by the kind of movie you like, he expected something more... innocent? romcom... something like that, not a dark romance full of whips, ropes, candles being used in unconventional situations... even fruits are in it?!

He is shocked... although still cold on the outside, looking at you, the little creature next to him, looking innocent, smiles at the scene unfolding on TV, he just sighs after all you are small but you are still a big box of surprises.

At the end he will be warning you about the risks of using items or anything unconventional for that type of thing.

Rafayel

"Oh you destroyed my innocence, you monster"

That's what he'll say at the end of the movie, even though he watched it all the way through and with a carefree smile on his lips, he seemed more used to all the heavy stuff in the movie. Of course, none of those fake scenes can beat the dirtiest thoughts he has about you. If that's what people like, then his thoughts about you would win four Oscars. He could make a movie with more than four hours in seven different settings with more than twenty hotter scenes than this one with you in a single day.

He is more interesting than a lame movie with bad acting performances and he will show you after the movie is over

Sylus

Sylus is judging the entire movie, laughing at how different things are from real life, and how bad the lead actor was, although the movie was a bit similar to your first meeting...

"Do you like watching this kind of stuff? I thought you were a well-behaved kitten..." Sylus murmurs softly in your ear pulling you closer as he tightens his arms around your waist as the two of you lie on the couch.

"My dick is way bigger than his, and who needs so many toys to make sure their partner come at least once?" He says with slight sarcasm, a chuckle almost like a light heavy purr echoes from him before you respond.

"but you have a room just like the one in the movie with some toys too"

Sylus just raises an eyebrow at this before sighing and replying while drawing circles on his waist with his thumb "No Kitten... those are not 'toys' they are items for real torture, the first thing you thought when you entered my work room was 'wow bdsm toys?' you are dirtier than I thought love."

Luke and Kieran

You got Luke, You got Kieran

and now you have one on each side sitting next to you while the three of you watch the movie together, even though it didn't go as planned.

The movie was more of a comedy to them than anything, it was almost like taking the boys to an amusement park, first they didn't like the male actor, they found him tacky or even compared him to Sylus a little to the point of choking on laughter, they were rooting for the girl in the movie to break up with the guy and have an independent life, saying lines from the movie to you and telling you how lucky you are to not have just one guy but two guys who could make a better dark romance and that you wouldn't need to call the police on them...

"Boss has a room just like this room in the movie... do you think Boss is actually a dom who likes BDSM?" Luke asks looking at you and his brother on the other side of the couch, both with their arms around your waist, Kieran just rolls his eyes slightly

"no, I still think Boss is a secret Wanderer, I'm sure he turns into one every night, that's why he doesn't sleep...Mc can confirm this"

[atlabeth]

time’s blur - ialwbty au

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader but this primarily features percy jackson & sister!reader

summary: somehow, someway, you come back.

a/n: wow it has been a while hasn't it!! 148 days to be exact!! im always thinking about these two in the corner of my mind and ive been wanting to write this au since i got an ask about it, originally i was going to do it all as a big long one shot but i just want to get something out lol. and this will give me more freedom to do wte i want with this au instead of just having one big one shot and leaving it. anyways enjoy there is actually some fluff for once but still some emotional damage and there is more to come!! also reader is 19 and percy is 15

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): hurricane dies but she has come back!! told through percy's pov. angst, hurt/comfort, signature percy jackson guilt, but some fluffy sibling moments<3

Percy doesn’t end up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning out of instinct, foresight, or any kind of divine ‘chosen one’ intervention. 

He ends up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning because some Apollo kid was hooking up with an Ares kid on the beach, and they found you. 

They found you, not Percy. He didn’t even have a clue until he woke up to Chiron in his cabin.

Percy had had his fair share of rude awakenings over the years, usually because of horrific demigod prophetic dreams, but the expression on Chiron’s face immediately alerted Percy that something was wrong, even through his groggy haze. 

“Chiron?” he rasps, and he sits up as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He has to make sure he’s not still dreaming. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, Percy,” he says. “But I need you to come with me.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Is everyone okay? Is camp okay? Is there an invasion?” 

“Nothing so ghastly,” Chiron says. Though his tone is a bit lighter, it still doesn’t ease Percy’s concerns. “But it does concern you.” 

“Great,” Percy mumbles, and he pulls himself out of bed. Normally he would have the foresight to change, but a part of him is still worried that Christmas has come early and Kronos has already invaded the city. 

So he follows Chiron—with all the sneaking around he’s done since getting to camp, it’s strange to be out this late and not have to worry about being eaten alive—clad in flannel pajama pants, a Yankee’s tee, and Converse he didn’t get the chance to fully lace up. 

“You’d tell me if something was wrong,” Percy says, glancing up at him. “Right?” 

“Of course,” he nods. “I wouldn’t classify this as something going wrong. Just… rather shocking.” 

“Great,” he repeats. “Are you going to tell me?” 

Chiron is silent for a moment, and Percy frowns. “Now I’m really worried.” 

“I suppose it’s best to rip the bandage off,” Chiron says. He stops right outside the Big House and lets out a sigh. “An hour ago, a girl was found on the beach. She looked as if she’d been washed ashore.” 

Percy’s frown deepens. “What? Gods�� is she okay?” 

“Yes,” Chiron says. “I checked her over for injuries, but she only had some minor bruises. No water in her lungs, somehow.” 

“That’s crazy,” he says. “How could someone even wash up here? Even with demigods— don’t we have protections against that?” 

“All of this makes me believe there was some… divine intervention,” Chiron says slowly. “Especially with who she is.” 

Percy crosses his arms. “You’re making this sound like a huge deal. Who is she?”

“Percy,” Chiron says, soft but firm, “it’s your sister. Somehow, she’s come back to life.” 

And for a second, all he can do is stare. 

“What?” 

“I could never forget her face,” he says. “Or the presence of a child of Poseidon.” 

Percy shakes his head. “No, Chiron— if this is a joke, it’s not funny.” He huffs a mirthless laugh and looks down at his hands. “And if this is a shitty dream, then it’s really shitty.” 

“Perseus, this is real,” he states. 

He’s still shaking his head. “How can it be real? She’s dead— she’s been dead for years.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Mr. D has already gone back to Olympus to figure it out. But if I had to guess, your father decided to meddle.”

He wants to call it a lie. Honestly, he wants to punch Chiron for getting his hopes up about something like this. But deep down, Percy knows he’s telling the truth. 

“Can I see her?” he asks. “Is— is she okay? Does she know who she is?”

“In time,” Chiron says. “I cannot be sure, but it doesn’t look like she remembers anything from her life.” 

Percy shakes his head again. It doesn’t feel real. He’s imagined what it would feel like to meet you since the moment Luke told him about you, but he knew it could never happen. 

But now, all that stands between Percy and his sister is a few doors. 

“I want to see her,” he says.

“Of course,” Chiron nods. “I just need to make sure it won’t mess with her further. This isn’t like Thalia coming back with the fleece—though I have suspicions, I can’t be sure how this happened. It could be a very delicate matter.” 

“As long as it doesn’t hurt her more.” 

Chiron nods again and he opens the door to the Big House. He follows him up to his office door, then stops when Chiron gestures at the couch. 

“I just need to discuss a few more things with her.” 

Percy nods wordlessly and sits down, then Chiron disappears into his office. 

A million things are running through Percy’s mind, namely guilt. 

Shouldn’t he have been the one to find you? 

Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s you. 

You’re his sister. He’s always had a connection to you, even when you were gone—gods, the night after he found out you existed you appeared in his dreams. Percy’s spent almost every moment since he found out about you wishing you were still here, that he could meet you, and when it finally does happen—somehow, because he still doesn’t understand what the fuck went on for this to happen—he’s not even the one to find you? He’s just asleep like every other night?

He huffs a sigh as he hunches over, his forearms on his knees. His leg bounces up and down at a rapid pace, moving his entire body with it, but this is one time he can’t lay his ADHD to rest. He’s more surprised he isn’t up pacing the entire room for the hundredth time. 

If Percy feels like this, he can’t even imagine how you must feel. To come back for seemingly no reason with no memories, after four years in Elysium. 

Luke said you’d been killed by a monster. You were buried like any other person. 

You were gone.

But you just… came back.  

He lets out another harried sigh and falls back against the couch. He’s exhausted, but there’s no chance of him being able to go back to sleep. Not with you around. 

Suddenly, the door opens, and Percy instantly darts up from his seat. You walk out with Chiron and it’s almost surreal.

You look like all the pictures, all his dreams, just older—more mature. He wants to cry and scream and hug you all at once. 

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance at Chiron for a moment before you focus back on Percy.

“Uh— sorry,” he says, wincing a bit. He doesn’t know how to act around you, not when he knows you but you don’t know him. “I waited for you. I thought it would be good to have someone on the other side.” 

“That’s really nice,” you murmur. “I… I see why. Word on the street is that you’re my brother.” 

Percy nods way too many times. “Yeah. Uh— yeah. We’re both children of—” 

He pauses, his gaze moving past you to Chiron. He has to have explained all this to you, right? 

“Poseidon,” you finish, and you let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Chiron laid out all the basics.” 

“This has all got to be really confusing,” he says. “I remember how lost I was when I first got to camp, and I didn’t even…” 

“Die?” you ask wryly. He nods again. He really can’t finish any sentence around you—he’s so worried of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you. Percy doesn’t know how any of this works.

“It’s strange,” you admit. “I… I lived this whole life before this, and I don’t even remember any of it.”

Percy’s heart clenches painfully. He doesn’t know how he’s going to explain everything to you when you start remembering. 

When you start remembering Luke. 

“Really?” he asks. “There’s nothing?”

You shake your head. “I have my name, but that’s all. And…”

Percy frowns. “What?”

You pause for a moment before you shake your head again. “Nothing. This is just…”

“Weird?” 

You nod with a slight laugh. “Yeah. To say the least.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not the first person to come back to life,” Percy says. “Uh, a girl named Thalia used to be a tree before she was turned back into a human.”

You frown. “Wow.”

“We can get to all of that some other day,” Chiron thankfully interrupts. “Percy, will you take her back to your cabin?”

“You’re sure we won’t get eaten by the harpies?” Percy asks. “Aello is out for my blood.”

“I promise,” Chiron says. He glances at you, your frown noticeably deeper, and he looks back at Percy. “Perhaps we should, ah, hold off on this sort of discussion. Until tomorrow, at least.”

“Of course,” Percy says. “Sorry. You must be exhausted.” 

“A little,” you admit. “Apparently coming back to life takes it out of you.” 

“Come back here first thing in the morning,” Chiron says. “We have… quite a bit to talk about.” 

“That’s an understatement,” you murmur. 

Percy smiles a bit, and he gestures with his head for you to follow him. You do, and Chiron goes back into his office. He nabs a bag of ambrosia squares from an empty bedside as the two of you go through the infirmary just to be safe, and when he glances back at you he sees you frowning. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Does anything hurt?” 

“You’re a Yankees fan?” you say instead. 

Percy blinks, then he realizes you’re looking at his shirt. “Uh— yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m from New York, and my mom loves them, so…” he tugs at his shirt. “I know you like the Red Sox. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “We can’t all be perfect.” 

Percy can’t help but smile. You died and came back to life, and you remember nothing but your name and your love for the Boston Red Sox. 

“That means you keep up with baseball, right?” 

“When I can,” he says. “We don’t really have technology out here.” 

“Have the Red Sox won a world series since I’ve been gone?” 

“They won last year, actually.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly grin. “Really?”

He nods. “They beat the Cardinals.”

“That— that’s huge!” you exclaim. “Oh my god, they broke the curse and I didn’t get to see it? This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“You know you died, right?”

“And look how well that worked out for me.” You shake your head. “I need to go to the library or something and find some footage.”

“As much as I would love to do that,” Percy says, “we have a few other things we have to focus on.”

You huff and shake your head. “Fine. But as soon as we figure all this out, I’m figuring out some way to see those games.” 

Percy chuckles. “I don’t think anyone’ll deny you that.” 

“Good.” 

Silence settles over the two of you as you walk back to the Poseidon cabin, and Percy just feels awkward. 

He always thought about what he would say to you if he finally got to see you again, and now you’re alive somehow and right next to him and he has no idea what to do. 

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Percy finally decides on. “Chiron said you just washed up on shore.” 

“I feel surprisingly okay,” you say. “All I remember is waking up at the bottom of the lake. I thought I was going to drown, so I kicked my way up, and then got to shore.” You shake your head. “Somehow, I didn’t drown. My clothes weren’t even wet. I’ve got to be the luckiest person out there.” 

“You’re a child of Poseidon,” he says. “We can’t breathe underwater so we can’t drown, and our clothes don’t get wet unless we want them to.” 

“Like I said,” you incline your head, “luckiest person out there.” 

“I just don’t get why you’re back,” Percy says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. I just don’t understand how, or why— or why now.” 

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re not able to get any words out before a yawn interrupts it. 

“Maybe that’s a tomorrow problem,” you say. 

“I think you’re right,” Percy says. He opens the door to the camp store and you follow him inside, but you frown. 

“What is this?” 

“The camp store,” he says. “You don’t really have anything, so I wanted to get you some things.” 

You just stare as he starts taking things. “You’re just… stealing?” 

“Just a couple toiletries and some clothing,” he says. “They won’t miss it.” He stashes it all in a Camp Halfblood tote bag and holds it out to you, and though you’re a bit hesitant, you still take it. 

“Thanks,” you say. “We won’t get in trouble?” 

“I think everyone will cut you some slack for a while,” Percy says. “A guy did this for me my first day and it helps—makes you feel more at home.” 

You hum, and this time you open the door for Percy. “Nice guy.” 

Percy swallows the sudden lump in his throat, trying to ignore the chill that trickles down his spine as he realizes the implications of his words. 

“Yeah,” Percy mutters. “He was.” 

Eventually, the two of you get back to the Poseidon cabin. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside. 

Again, it’s strange that you’re here. It’s like if a piece of his history textbook suddenly came to life and started walking around—he’s heard so much about you, imagined what he thought would be an impossible meeting so many times, but now that it’s actually happening he doesn’t know what to do. 

And it hits even more as you walk over to a picture of yourself hanging on the wall, surrounded by a myriad of others. 

It’s one of many of you and Luke, him holding you close with an arm slung around your shoulder as you beam at the camera with the brightest smile imaginable. Before Luke got his scar, before you died, before he went off the deep end. 

“I put a couple of your pictures up,” Percy rushes to explain, his throat feeling scratchy, “and a few of your old things. As— as a way to remember you.”

“I love it,” you say, and the tension dissolves in his shoulders when he sees your smile. It really is so much brighter in person. “I— I can’t believe I don’t remember any of this.”

“We’ll figure out a way to get it back,” Percy says. “I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say idly as you continue to take all the pictures in. He can’t imagine what it must feel like to see all these memories of a past life you have no recollection of. 

“I don’t,” he says. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

You’re silent for a while as you keep looking at them. Then you take one of the pictures off the wall, the one of you and Luke at a baseball game. 

“Luke,” you murmur, as if you don’t realize you’re saying it out loud. You blink, then you turn to Percy. “His name is Luke, isn’t it?”

He nods, almost in disbelief. You don’t remember a damn thing about your old life but you know Luke’s name.

How is Percy supposed to tell you what he did? 

You laugh softly as you trail your nail over the edge. “We must’ve been pretty close if I got him to go to a Red Sox game.” You look over at Percy. “Does he go here too?”

After a moment, Percy shakes his head. “He— uh, he used to.”

“Makes sense,” you murmur, and you put the picture back on the wall. “I got the easy way out. Everyone else had to deal with the fallout.”

Percy frowns. “You were killed by a monster. I don’t think anyone considers that the easy way out.” 

“It kinda was,” you say with a shrug. “I— I don’t remember much about it, but Chiron said I was in Elysium. There aren’t any monsters down there, and there certainly aren’t any responsibilities.”

“Well,” Percy sits down on his bed, “I’m glad you’re here. You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined meeting you.” 

You chuckle. “I didn’t know I was so popular.” 

“I’m serious,” he says. “Poseidon is one of the Big Three, and they made an oath not to have kids. I was the only Big Three kid in general when I got to camp—when I found out about you, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to have a sister to talk about all of this with.” 

Your eyes soften, and you lean against his bed frame. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry about?” 

“I— I don’t know,” you say with a slight laugh. “I just feel bad that I couldn’t be there for you.” 

“You’re already doing a pretty good job at being a big sister,” Percy says wryly. 

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re doing a pretty good job at being a younger brother.” 

Percy laughs and smiles, and you smile too. He’s beginning to understand what Luke always said, about your presence embodying warmth. He’s only been around you for a few minutes and he already feels better. 

“I’ve never had a brother before this,” you say. “So there might be a couple speed bumps.” 

“We’ll get through them together,” Percy says. “Besides, I… I kind of always considered you my sister. Ever since I found out about you, even though you were…” 

“Dead?” you guess, and he winces. You chuckle a bit. “It’s still weird for me, too. Can’t imagine what it must be like for all of you.” 

“Weird,” he says without really thinking. “Really weird. But I’m thankful that you’re back.” 

You smile. “So am I, Percy.” 

You let out another yawn, and you sit down on the bed across from him. “God, what time is it?” 

Percy glances at the clock in the corner. “3:34.” 

You whistle. “I really chose a great time to come back, huh?” 

He chuckles, and he kicks off his shoes as gets up to turn the lights off. “I think some sleep would do us both some good.” 

You nod and do the same. As you lay back, one hand behind your head, you continue to look around the cabin. 

“Are these your band posters?” 

He shakes his head as he sits back down. “They’re yours, actually, but you’ve got good taste. I love Pearl Jam.” 

“I used to have good taste, you mean,” you say wryly. 

“Hey,” he says. “I meant what I told you. We’re gonna get your memories back.” 

“How are you so sure?” 

“I’ve done a lot of impossible things,” Percy says. “And so have you, from what I’ve heard. It’s kind of the Poseidon kid way, honestly.” 

“You’ll have to teach me some things, then.” 

“And when you get your memory back, you’ll have to do the same,” he says. 

You smile and nod. “Deal.” 

Percy smiles too, and he lays down. “You really should try and get some sleep. Chiron wasn’t joking when he said we have a lot to talk about.” He huffs a slight laugh. “Whatever the reason is for you coming back, I guarantee there’s gonna be some people upstairs that are mad about it.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Upstairs?” 

“Olympus,” he says. “The gods don’t really like things happening out of their control.” 

You hum, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence and the sound of both your breathing. It’s a little strange having someone else here other than Tyson, but he’s thankful for it. 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” you ask. There’s an edge of fear in your voice, and Percy frowns. 

“Nothing.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Nothing is going to happen,” he repeats. “I’m not going to let anything happen. The gods have already messed with your life enough—they don’t get to do it again.” 

Percy half-expects to hear the sound of thunder echoing across camp, but the silence continues. Maybe Zeus isn’t listening in on him for once, or maybe he just expects the disrespect at this point. 

“I really am the luckiest person,” you say. “I’ve got someone like you looking out for me.” 

“You were looking out for me when you were gone,” he says. “You might not remember, but I could feel it. So I’m just repaying the favor.” 

Again, silence. It’s temporarily interrupted by the sound of sheets shifting, then you speak. 

“I’m really glad I got to meet you, Percy,” you murmur. 

He can’t help but smile, and he tries to ignore the tears beginning to spring in his eyes. He has no idea why you’re back—no idea what this could mean. Maybe your dad did bring you back, maybe it’s a bizarre case like Thalia, maybe you play a part in something that they don’t even know about yet and it's nothing but bad news.

But for once in his life, Percy’s not going to question it. 

You’re alive and you’re here. 

For now, that’s all he needs. 

“Me too,” he whispers.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

OMG I have an idea

What if a villain hit reader with a love potion and the Yandere JL has to deal with reader being obsessed with one of them until it wears off🙏🙏😭(I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR YAN JL WORKDGHBJB)

A Day in Life: Love Pollen

Synopsis: A day in your life where you get hit with love pollen, get kidnapped, and are rescued by the Justice League.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+; PDA; Dry humping; Kinda public sex bc they're in a deserted island’s beach, so it's basically out in the open but no one’s around; Dubcon/noncon bc, you know, love-and-kinda-sex pollen; Also maybe drugging bc of that; Writer is the Justice League's weakness; Hal Jordan is a little shit; Needles; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,1k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I imagine the League’s marketing will have a hard time after this little stunt, I mean, there's no way no one caught that on camera

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The Legion of Doom had a plan. They invaded a political event in Metropolis, with the presence of the Justice League as the president’s security team, the League being the target. First, Poison Ivy release pollen throughout the whole city, as a distraction, making people hallucinate that they were in love with one another. Crazy in love. It would be okay, if her experiment didn't cause chaos. All over the streets, some people were having sex out in the open, some were fighting and killing because of jealousy and cheating, some were committing robberies to give their “loved ones”. It was pure chaos and only the quick reflexes, powers and gadgets from the League spared the team from getting hit.

Half the team went to deal with the distraction, saving and restraining people, giving them the antidote, etc. The other half, took care of the villains. After a few hours, the Legion of Doom was taken down and the city’s security and health workers took over the job, the chaos being a lot easier to contain since they were spreading the antidote through the air, it would take at least an hour to spread it throughout the whole city, and then the ones who somehow weren't able to breath it, but mostly, just the mess left behind was the real issue.

You were standing with the rest of the crew on the event, watching the League and the politicians discoursing for the press and TV. When the mayhem started, for the first few seconds, you got startled and froze. Looking between the League, the scared crowd, and the villains invading the place. Suddenly, you breathed some thick smoke and your eyes shot to the heroes, silently urging them to do something, when your eyes locked on Green Lantern’s, the pollen’s effect kicked in. You got dizzy, something snapped, and then everything changed.

Wait, when did Green Lantern's jaw got so sharp? And his muscles so defined? Oh, and he was so big and tall. Did he do something to his hair? Wow, his ring is glowing now and he's flying. He's so cool and powerful. A true hero. Shit, he's coming in my direction. Hehe, he's using a construct to lift me and my coworkers to a safer place as if it was nothing. Imagine flying with him every day. How does he look without the mask? Ugh, must be perfect, if his jaw and lips were anything to go by. I can't even see the color of his eyes! And- and please stop looking me in the eyes and touching my shoulders and asking me if I'm okay, of course I am, I'm with you. No. Nooo. Come back here! Let the others deal with the bad guys, I'm right hereee! Nooooo!

You were depressed and deflated the whole time your soulmate was away. A team from outside the city arrived at some point and you were able to watch the fight — Normally, Lois Lane would do the transmission, but she's too busy making out with her cameraman, she was in the crowd too. —. You started crying watching your lover fighting with Sinestro. When he won, and everything was fine, was when you finally calmed down and just started anxiously waiting while ignoring your colleagues strange antics, one of them even hitting on you. Didn't she know you and Green Lantern were in love?

When the League was back, the paramedics were starting to give the crew the antidote, you were next in line, however, as soon as you saw the heroes, you broke into a sprint.

— Green! — You yelled, catching everyone off guard. Even more so when you jumped and hooked your legs around the brunette’s waist, your arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately.

Hal was so shocked that it took him two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, ignoring completely the gasps from his friends. You moaned against his lips, mumbling a jumbled mess of “I love you”, “I missed you”, “was so worried”, “so glad you're back”.

Someone groaned.

— Batman, just give them that damn antidote before I lose it. — Batman grunted and Hal struggled but managed to separate your faces for a moment. You tried to push your face towards his again, but he grabbed your jaw. You kept forcing your face against his hand and whining. It was really cute, and your willingness and the previous sensation of your lips ignited something in his belly, yet, he looked to the side just in time to see Batman preparing the needle, the rest of the League sulking on the side and glaring at him.

His mind worked rapidly, ignoring the texture of your soft lips pampering kisses against the skin of his hand. When he felt the tip of your tongue, he made a decision.

A bad one.

— Yeah. I don't think so. — Green Lantern conjured several chain constructs, chaining the League's arms and ankles to the ground. It wouldn't hold off the ones like Superman and Wonder Woman who were strong enough to break it, and Martian Manhunter who could just invade his mind or use his intangibility, Flash was also pretty capable of taking him on, but Hal was smart and sagacious. Still holding you, he made a rocket construct around you both and took off.

Really, a terrible idea.

Superman and Wonder Woman, in a cry of rage, broke the chains. Diana unsheathed her sword, her feet not even touching the ground anymore, flying, ready to go after the traitor. Martian passed through the construct, while Superman went to break Batman and Aquaman free, Flash vibrated fast to rearrange his particles and also escaped.

— We need a plan. — Batman’s voice stopped the amazon warrior from going in a hunt for blood. He was already stressing over what the marketing team could do to fix this.

— A plan? We can defeat the enemy and retreat my darling if we go now! — Wonder Woman barked.

— Green Lantern is impulsive. If we go now we can destroy the whole state and hurt (Y/N) in the process. He won't give them up easily.

— Batman's right. — Superman agreeds. — Flash, follow them and see where they’re going. — The speedster nodded and took off.

Barry shook his head, cursing his idiot best friend the whole way.

Between the whole team, Hal was clearly the only one who would be okay with you falsely loving them. The rest wanted something more genuine for you. Some of them would settle for you not loving them as much as they loved you, some wanted you to feel exactly the same amount of what they felt. Hal still loved you just like them, but he always had that certain level of insecurity that craved to be better than anyone, to impress, making everything a competition, and the sensation of being the only one to have you could certainly cloud his judgment and accept your love, even if fake. He just thought he could compensate by treating you the right way, and not just using that opportunity to do whatever he wanted with you, just because he could and you wouldn't complain. He could make this about you both, and not just about him.

Either way, every one of them (thought) they deserved their fair chance at winning you over.

— Manhunter, can you still read his mind and tell what he is thinking? — Manhunter nodded and his eyes started glowing, there was a second of silence before he spoke.

— It's getting weaker as he gets more distant. It's purely impulsive thinking. Green Lantern isn't considering the consequences and means no harm against Earth or us. — Batman nodds.

— That's a shame. I mean harm. — Wonder Woman mutters, Batman glared and Superman side-eyed her. Batman turned his communication on.

— Flash, tell us when they stop moving.

— If he touches them, I will personally kill him. — Aquaman darkly states. Superman took a step in his direction, facing him head on.

— No, you won't. — The two stared at one another intently, until Batman broke the silence.

— Focus. We don't have time for this. — The dark knight stated.

— We need to be collected and work as a team to act smoothly on our plan. — Martian reminds them. Wonder Woman steps down again and sheats her sword. They all form a circle and start planning.

The sky was never this blue and the sand never this warm and soft. Even with the warmth of the sun being so intense, you were laying on a palm tree's shadow, and the air was flowing just fine. What was actually making you sweat was the dry humping you and your soulmate were doing.

You don't remember ever getting so aroused in your whole life, and can't remember ever desiring someone so much. You could kill someone if they dared to try and steal him away from you.

Hal felt you carding your fingers through his hair and pull slightly, giving him shiver, and he squeezed the flesh of your hips. You moaned against his lips at a particularly stronger wave of pleasure. The clothes were a curse, stopping you from feeling the real him, so you desperately started clawing at his clothes. Green Lantern breathily chuckled.

— Relax, hot stuff, we have time… — He whispers with a smirk. The man held your hands and laid them on the ground, above your head. You just moaned, more needy, and pushed your hips against his, eliciting a hiss from his red and swollen lips.

His hands started unbottoning your shirt and freeing the fabric out of your pants. You kept your hands were they were and watched, eyes wide open, when he descended kisses from the middle of your chest, going south, only pausing at your waistband.

As much as you wanted to feel his mouth more, seeing him so covered and not being able to properly touch him was making you restless, so you sat up, surprising him, and started pulling up the fabric at the back of his neck. Hal chuckled and shook his head, humoring your needs. He helped you take it off, then pushed your own shirt down your arms, until it was off.

You paused, admiring his adonis body. Your heart raced and eyes watered, never having seen something so perfect your whole life. Even his scars were beautiful. His chest hair and happy trail looked really soft and somehow he looked even more muscled, strong and beautiful. You wonder why you rejected him before.

Hal Jordan basked in your amazed gaze, loving to show off, especially while doing nothing. He frowned weakly, and gave a reassuring grin when you pouted, slumped and frowned.

— What's this, sweetheart? I thought you were enjoying this. — To lift your mood, he started running his hands up and down your sides.

— I wanted to see your face… — Hal remained silent for a few seconds. They would tell you their identities eventually, and that fact kept being brought up on reunions. They all knew at some point, you would have to know, to really start a relationship, yet, Batman, and his paranoia, kept them all from telling you. Sometimes, it felt like a sabotage, but mostly, it made sense, since the guy had a bunch of kids, who could be in danger if the information somehow got leaked, still, you couldn't trust to let them in, if they didn't let you in. That was the only reason you didn't trust them, of course.

Also, a face was not a name. Hal wasn't famous, so how bad could it be? Especially if it would turn you on so much, and when you looked so damn cute. His own lust was also influencing his critical thinking, which was already second place to his impulsiveness.

Hal bit his lower lip and brought his face closer to yours, a few centimeters away from having your noses touching.

— Okay… Take it off… — You let out a happy squeal and reached up with both hands. Your heart pounded with anticipation, making you go slower to savor the intimacy even more. Hal closed his eyes when he felt the gentle tug, against his wishes to watch your eagerness and your lip biting in anticipation. His heart was also pounding.

You saw his right eye closed and his thick eyebrow, when suddenly, a loud noise rang out, scaring the shit out of you and prompting Hal to fix the mask again, get up and assess for danger.

He finally fell to his senses and realized something.

He just took the worst decisions ever.

Everything happened too fast. Flash was on your side, holding a needle to your arm, and Green Lantern was being thrown around by a red and blue blur. Only the feminine rageful scream gave you the hint to who it was.

You got up, ready to die for your soulmate, when the antidote kicked in.

You threw up.

Comment, like and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Changed Future (3) : Yandere Isekai

Part 2

The parents of the protagonist were shunned by their child because of their violence and nonchalance about the practices of the higher echelon of society

Apparently, their love story wasn’t that different than the one that started with Haruko

Except that a small punishment went much further than not eating a day or two

They were much bloodier 

Much more similar to the rivals who suffered before their untimely deaths

The parents were now seemingly more in love than anything

But the cracks were there

And the protagonist was front and center for all of it

But ultimately they ran away, declining their inheritance and their parent’s wealth to succeed

Unfortunately, though it seems they’ve come to reenter their—now your life 

As though Haruko, Det.Cape, and CEO Revmere weren’t enough

“Dearest baby-child of mine~ who is this?”

“I’m Haruko–” “Shhh no stop it!” “-their lover.”

“Finally we get to meet you, they were always so elusive when they swooped in and swept you away.”

“Crazy thing about that little darling (Y/n) we too have let our new addition have some new freedoms as well. Say hi Beattle!”

“Uh hello n-nice to finally meet you.”

If there’s anything that you match with the original protagonist it’s their disgust and annoyance with their family

Their parents love story was a lot more violent when it came to ‘breaking’ the other in 

You couldn’t recall which one did what but even with meeting them now

You can tell they’re just….off

“Honey, you have something on your face! Let me lick it off!”

“Oh really then you should have something so that I lick it off too!”

“You vixen, you remind me of that one time when your covered in blood and you licked me then too.”

“Awww remember when I shot you and I licked the bullet hole.”

“Oh my gosh! Stop it!”

“Yes, please tone it down.”

If the newly arrived parents isn’t worse enough there's the new additions

“I have a lot to learn before I can truly be a part of your family but I hope we get along.”

“Right….did they kidnap you?”

“Wow! Really straightforward! They did say you were incredibly bright!”

“So they did…if you want I can call the police.”

“No! No! I’m here willingly…now.”

“Right.”

“And I hope you’ll accept your new brothers!” 

“What?!”

Could this insane author squeeze any more yanderified tropes in this story!?!!?

“Poor (Y/n) you look exhausted. Did Haruko give you a hard time leaving?”

“Not this time…it’s my…family.”

“Oh my.”

“They’ve brought their insane relationship at the worst time. I’m trying to fix myself and be better and then they just–”

“Shhh, you're safe here (Y/n)...I know you said as your ex-employer we really shouldn’t have any other relationship but I think we’re bound to be much closer.”

“What?”

“The point is you can stay here to avoid your family for as long as you like.”

“Thanks? Revmere.”

“Please call me, Filip.”

“Okay…Filip.”

The mess of it all leaves you exhausted 

And easy to manipulate

Usually with isekais the whole power of it is that you can see outside the story

Minimize characters' feelings and break it down as nothing but plot

But you're stressed 

Every which way you’ll find that a yandere is there trying to capitalize

And eventually, it’s just a matter of who can tone it down first

Naturally, that’s Revmere er Filip 

Who has the space and security to invite you someplace without the others following

And between his time as a negotiator and as someone who worked closely with the protagonist he’s perfect at talking everyone down

You just need someone to rant to and he’s perfect for it

Bashing down everyone who you call out even if he agrees

“Can you believe it?! When I finally get my parents to settle like a bunch of babies, Haruko demands we do something intimate!”

“Unbelievable, he’s such a pervert.”

“Right?! What weirdo sees that oddball freaking couple and thinks ‘maybe this is the night you let me take it farther than kissing!’ Ugh!!!”

“Like can he keep his hands to himself.”

If he were in his position–roommate? Ex-boyfriend? Tenant? (You literally won’t tell him)--he’d want to get to go far past that

But that’s just him

For now, he’ll settle to wine and dine you while you become a frequent visitor at his

It’s so easy  for Filip to offer your fifth glass of decade-aged wine and catch your falling body against his

He’s just fighting with himself about putting you in the satin pajamas he has your initials on (of course changed to include his own)

But he reminds himself to take it slow, after all, he does have the best chance at getting your heart

“You know I’d love to offer some insight on (Y/n)’s situation, maybe with my guidance you can help reunite the family.”

“I-I’d love to hear it! This Haruko is okay but I think my…partners are worried about if he can properly take care of them. Like they took care of me.”

“Well, I hope we can both provide some… much-needed insight.”

[sailorrhansol]

Blood & Popcorn | l.c (m)

❀ Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader 

❀ Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn. 

❀ Word Count: 11,315

❀ Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff

❀ Type: Smut 

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice. Alternating POVs and some time skips. 

❀ A/N: This is another work coming from a conversation with @daechwitatamic who at this point, I think had been the driving force behind all three random one shots I’ve written. I apparently can’t say no when she asks for something :) so anyway, here is simp Lee Chan and simp reader because ???? And yes I'm posting this at 11:30 pm at night who cares there are no rules!!!!!!!!

❀ A/N 2: Also thank you to Jo for reading this before hand because it would be otherwise largely illegible. King Julian is on the way, bestie.   

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Read Next: Still Watching?

“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.” 

“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?” 

“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.” 

“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?” 

The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match. 

If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.

Mostly. 

The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him. 

Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.

“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”

You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”

“Order your own fries,” Chan says. 

“Ugh. I already ate mine.”

“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.” 

Our thing. 

The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there. 

There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories. 

You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn. 

Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away. 

Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place. 

The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm. 

When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.

“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.” 

Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But she-”

“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.” 

Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?” 

“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin. 

“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”

“He asked you to dinner!”

“As friends!”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.” 

For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.

Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”

You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”

“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.” 

Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care. 

The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone. 

“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.” 

“I mean if you’ve got a date.” 

That’s not the point, you want to scream at him. 

Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe. 

Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual. 

It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so. 

So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else. 

“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.” 

“Shua is a good guy.” 

“Yeah. Yeah he is.” 

Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying. 

Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s. 

Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years. 

You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience. 

He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home. 

Wanna start coming here after class? 

You did. And you had. 

A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim. 

“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words. 

He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.” 

You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”

He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?” 

You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-

Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.” 

“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.” 

-

Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out. 

“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.” 

Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath. 

“Why are you in here again?”

“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?” 

“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.” 

“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”

“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.” 

“Isn’t that like… a movie?” 

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it. 

“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?” 

Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then. 

Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you. 

For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets. 

Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back. 

“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.” 

“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?” 

“I don’t know that it’s canceled.” 

“That really clarifies the issue.”

Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?” 

“Uh, yeah.”

“He asked her on a date.”

“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.” 

Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.” 

“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.” 

“It’s that obvious?” 

“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend. 

“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.” 

Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it. 

The window of opportunity is gone. 

Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different. 

If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must. 

The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him  groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.

Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and  give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place. 

No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long. 

Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress. 

Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach. 

The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him. 

He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground. 

-

Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod. 

Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-

“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”

Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor. 

The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner. 

Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”

“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!” 

“Sure, Mom.” 

“Don’t call me that!”

He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.

Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink. 

“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?” 

“Nope.”

“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”

Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.” 

“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.” 

“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”

“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.” 

“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.” 

Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room. 

“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.” 

And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to. 

-

“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.” 

Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs? 

Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.

Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?” 

Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back. 

The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.” 

Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”

“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.” 

You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl. 

“Do you want me to-”

“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!” 

Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room. 

You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet. 

“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”

“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”

“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”

“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.”  For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.” 

Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall. 

There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”

Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute. 

The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade. 

Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence. 

Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-

“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”

“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.” 

“Do you think he would… react poorly?”

“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”

“You sound so… saintly.”

“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”

You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”

“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”

“Bleh.” 

Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know. 

Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then. 

Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”

-

Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual. 

The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky. 

Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-

Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer. 

“Hi!”

“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”

“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”

Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh.” 

You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?” 

“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.” 

It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable. 

A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for. 

You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed. 

“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.” 

“I’m here.” 

“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” 

There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie. 

“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!” 

“For sure.” 

When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame. 

-

Chan can’t do this. 

Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all. 

But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast. 

Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment. 

From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-

“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”

“I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.” 

“What?”

“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.” 

Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”

“No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.” 

“That easy to read, huh?”

“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.” 

“Understandable.” 

Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people. 

“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”

“Sure.”

“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”

Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”

And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone. 

Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call. 

Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours. 

The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart. 

Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now. 

Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has. 

Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.” 

-

A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person. 

Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing. 

Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except- 

“Chan?” 

It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow. 

Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you crying?” 

Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch. 

He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 

“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?” 

You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again. 

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.” 

Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.” 

“I-” 

A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe. 

“Oh, Bambi.” 

“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”

“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will. 

“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”

Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.

For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning. 

Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time. 

The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip. 

Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes. 

“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”

You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth. 

“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid too.” 

“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him. 

Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years. 

“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”

“What a stupid man I am.”

You smirk a little. “Yes.” 

“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Oh?” 

The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.

“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.” 

His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”

Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you. 

“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”

“I wear them all the time.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”

“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”

“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.” 

“I really didn’t know.”

He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.” 

With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take. 

You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.

The light from your hall glows behind Chan, haloing him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence. 

Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him. 

“Kiss me,” you beg. 

He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze. 

“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again. 

It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.” 

“Chan.” 

“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.” 

“I want you.”

“I might pass out due to sheer joy.” 

“I have some ideas on how to revive you.” 

He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

“Maybe.” 

Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple. 

You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm. 

Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast. 

The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.” 

“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.” 

You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath. 

Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan. 

Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut. 

You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking. 

“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.” 

And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him. 

Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving. 

Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break. 

He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently. 

“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.” 

“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.” 

He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.” 

“Like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.” 

Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you. 

You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly. 

A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.

“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you. 

One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy. 

“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.” 

“Oh?” 

“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”

“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?” 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.” 

“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.” 

He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?” 

“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.” 

“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?” 

You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again. 

“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?” 

“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.” 

He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.” 

Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance. 

“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”

“Okay?”

“Very. Just- slow.”

“You got it, baby.” 

The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess. 

Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier. 

“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.” 

You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?” 

“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.” 

“Why? It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?” 

“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.” 

Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible. 

Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch. 

Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”

You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.

A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?” 

He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”

You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm. 

Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles. 

“Hmm?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we shower?” 

“We?”

You grin. “You speak French?” 

“I speak pussy.”

“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.” 

“Oui.” 

“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”

“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”

“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.” 

“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”

You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”

-

“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.” 

You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower. 

“You are good looking.”

“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”

“Well your jokes aren’t very good.” 

He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you. 

“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”

“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.” 

-

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@jespecially @asyre @eoieopda @todorokiskitten @pyeonghongrie-main @sebbyswifu @softiesoga

NOTE: If yo don't see your tag here and you've requested one, your. tag is not working.

[space-blue]

You know what time it is: Arcane trailer dissection time!!

Just your old Arcane obsessed terminally online person reviewing the most interesting screens (biased) from the teaser that just dropped.

Mamma Medarda just looks DOPE as FUCK in this mask, nothing else to say. She seems to be speaking to Mel, which would indicate she survives, which I hope for. We're clearly dealing with a soft Noxus invasion given the prevalence of Ambessa's troops.

Very interesting to see these troops activating. You have to wonder if they're a failsafe to Silco dying, or if they are being activated by Silco loyalists.

Not doing our girl any favours with that one.

VERY interesting to see Singed getting arrested in a teaser, because that hints it'll happen early on. I figure then that Warwick's escape would probably happen early as well. We may be looking at Singed and Heimerdinger old pal reunions weee

Gotta wonder if he ACTUALLY gets captured though, because Warwick might be a great get out of arrest card.

SEVIKA!!! WITH!! jINX'S GUN!!! I first though for SURE she must have stolen it, or found it, but do you know what?? She has a custom made Jinx arm!!!!

It doesn't seem haphazard, even if it's ungainly. There's a non zero chance that these two are united by Silco's death, instead of split apart!

This strike is clearly showing Medarda's fist. Mommy will be VERY active in this early on.

The previous fist image with projectile launch happens right after those shots. I wonder if that contraption has anything to do with Medarda instead of Jinx or someone else, because poison (spilling from the mouth?) is also a very Noxian thing (thank you, Singed)

What's with Smeech getting SUCH a highlight? What a dope design. Also that shot is the same colours and location style as Sevika shooting with her Jinx augment, so I am wondering if Sevika won't be the one killing him.

Freedom fight Jinx style art? Wow. With blue haired minions behind her? Unexpected! I wonder what Ekko and his firelights think about this, and whether they'll take her in despite everything. This seems to be very Zaun vs. Piltover now.

Our only proof of Viktor in season 2. He's in the Zaun depth with caped figures, most likely shimmer addicts. I wonder if the explosion is him saving them and starting his machine cult, or him defending himself. Anyway, he survives, and I also wonder how many physical augments he needs to heal himself from the explosion, courtesy of the hex core?

Of course the only proof we need that Jayce is alive is that Cait has an Arcane sniper rifle. I don't see Viktor making her one after the explosion........

All in all, interesting stuff!!

[bloodrvvvsh]

Come Into My Bedroom. | Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Taking care of your lover’s long hair for him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Warnings: None! This is entirely nothing but fluff. Established relationship, pet names (sweetheart), long haired Reid, very brief mention of drugs

Word count: 0.6K

Notes: I am a lover of Jesus Reid and nothing can stop me. This idea came to me as soon as I woke up and I’ve been itching to write it all day since

You were humming softly along to the music that filled the air, Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by The Smiths, as your fingers ran through the ends of Spencer’s hair. Spencer had always been such a The Smiths fan and you had grown fond of the band in the time of you two dating.

He was sitting between your legs on the floor while you sat on the couch. He turned his head, peering over his shoulder at you. “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly and you couldn’t help but beam a smile at him.

“Of course I’m sure,” you replied. In reality, you had been dreaming about doing this ever since his hair got long enough.

You adored his long hair. He looked so handsome with it in your opinion. The only problem was that between his long case hours and now after being shot in the knee, he didn’t always have the time to take care of it properly. Lucky for him, you were there to take care of it for him.

You had helped him wash it, taking your time to really scrub his scalp and messaging the conditioner through his hair, and now after letting it dry, you were going to brush it. You continued to hum, a smile that hadn’t weavered since you began still on your face.

“Tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?” you said and he gave a small nod in response. Hairbrush in hand, you raked it through the ends of his hair. 

The feeling of your hands in his hair never failed to get to Spencer. It didn’t really matter what you were doing - playing with the strands, washing it, brushing it, it didn’t matter. It all left a fuzzy feeling in Spencer’s chest.

You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him, ever. You were always so patient and kind with him, going out of your way to do such nice things for him. Like now.

He loved you more than anything.

“Did you know that each strand of hair can contain small amounts of fourteen different elements, including gold?”

“Oh, really?” You were one of the few people he had ever met that actually enjoyed listening to him ramble. He smiled softly, glancing back at you over his shoulder again. “What else?”

He shifted slightly, hands falling to his lap as he absentmindedly fidgeted with them. “Your hair contains everything that has been in your bloodstream, including medicine, drugs, minerals, and vitamins. Drugs can actually be detectable for approximately ninety days in the hair, while it’s generally only detectable for one to seven days in urine.”

“Wow,” you breathed out. “That’s kind of crazy, don’t you think?” You moved the hair hanging over his shoulders towards you and raked the brush through.

He could feel you tugging at sections of his hair, making his head tilt back slightly. “The average person has about 100,00 strands of hair on their hair. Blondes have the highest amount on average at 146,00, while redheads have the least at 86,000.”

“Sounds like a lot of hair,” you murmured. You were almost done, just a few more finishing touches..

“There!” you chirped as you finished tightening the ribbon. “I’m done!” You reached out for the mirror sitting to your left and offered it to Spencer. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as you watched his expression carefully.

He gently pulled the braid over his shoulder, running his fingers along the twisted strands of his hair, stopping at the pink ribbon tied into a bow at the end. A smile tugged at his lips at the sight. He glanced back at you once more and your heart nearly melted at the look on his face.

“It’s stunning, sweetheart,” he said softly and your grin split across your face so wide your cheeks began to ache. You cupped his cheeks in the palm of your hands and pressed your lips to his, sighing softly into the sweet kiss.

You were going to have to braid his hair more often.

[writerquil]

Hi, can I request a one-shot of Jax with a ballerina! reader? 👀, it can be romantic or platonic (she/her pronouns)

Jax x Ballerina Reader (FEM READER)

You'd tried your very hardest to avoid Jax ever since you'd first met him. And it wasn't just because of Ragatha's firm suggestions, it was also because the first time you'd interacted with him he'd smashed your porcelain arm and played it off as an accident.

Caine luckily could fix your arm with just a snap of his fingers but it offended you nevertheless and you'd made a point to stay away from him ever since.

Unfortunately for you, it just intrigued Jax further and egged him on.

He didn't directly approach you anymore and let you distance yourself but conducted mischievous pranks on you from afar instead.

It began with him laying a rat beneath your sheets, so when you uncovered it during night, it left you shrieking and hobbling away from your bed, drawing the attention of many other characters.

You slammed backwards onto the floor, holding out your fragile palms to steady yourself. Luckily nothing on your body had seemingly broke or cracked, but you barely acknowledged it as you jerked your head around the room in an attempt to watch the rat flee.

To your annoyance, the rat had scampered away just as they all peeked in.

Jax, who had joined the gawking characters at the entrance, cocked his head and grinned directly at you, eyeing your fallen position on the floor.

"Wow, rather ungraceful for a ballerina." He quipped smugly.

You glared right back, connecting the dots immediately.

You attempted to explain to the others that he'd planted a rat in your quarters but as Ragatha searched your room alongside you, in search of the pest, she discovered nothing.

"Maybe you just imagined it?" Ragatha guessed.

"You don't believe Jax would do such a thing?" You sighed back, smoothening down your leotard and grimacing.

"Well... he definitely would." Ragatha admitted. "I'm just surprised he's done it to you of all people."

"Why wouldn't he do it to me?" You asked in annoyance, placing your hands on your hips. "He's a prick."

Ragatha shrugged, giving you a slight smile.

"He just hasn't really insulted you much, not even behind your back."

You frowned; but shook it off.

Insults weren't needed when you tormented people instead... as annoying as it was, that was probably Jax's logic.

All you could really do now was prepare yourself for the second prank.

But this one was different.

You strolled through the circus, eyeing the combustion and flurries of colours with wary eyes. It was always overly colourful but these walks tended to help you clear your head and escape from Caine's wretched adventures so you took them anyway.

But of course, all things must come to an end and you reached the edge of the tent pretty quickly. You were preparing to swing back around again when suddenly voices rang out distantly from behind a green block.

You frowned. Who else could possibly be these deep into the tent as you were?

"...Somebody has to tell Caine to stop using Gloinks..." Ragatha grumbled.

"Doubt he will, he loves them." Zooble deadpanned. "Do you think that the newcomer will get swept away by them like me someday? She's really breakable."

You pressed up against the block, resisting the urge to peek.

"Hmm... maybe you guys will go back down to the queens nest together then, killing two birds with one stone." Jax said pleasantly.

Zooble audibly scoffed.

"Whatever. You'd come down to save her anyway. Your stupid little soft spot for her is so obvious!"

Jax's snarky protests were drowned out by Ragatha's giggles and eventually their footsteps echoed away until their voices finally faded completely.

You tried not to feel too special but it was a little difficult to drop the possibility of Jax even caring slightly for you and as you walked back to your quarters, narrowly avoiding gloinks, you could barely suppress the urge to beam or smirk triumphantly.

As you nudged your quarters door open suddenly you heard metal clink from above you and you glanced up to see a can of yellow paint, tipping straight over you.

You tried to avoid it but you were practically a deer caught in headlights at this point and it washed over you, leaving you to spit out paint.

Footsteps breezed by you accompanied by cheerful whistling, no doubt Jax.

But this time, you didn't feel as angry as you were before.

[freedomfireflies]

SnakeBite*

Summary: The third part to 404*

The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.

But he's still good at that, too.

Word Count: 5.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”

With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.

Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.

Fuck.

Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”

Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.

Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”

You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”

Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”

Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”

“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”

He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”

Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.

“That…is not helpful.”

“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”

“I can call a repair guy.”

He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”

You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”

You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”

Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”

“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”

“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”

“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”

His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.

In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.

To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught. 

Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”

Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”

“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”

“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”

“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”

Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”

“No shit.”

He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.

In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”

You blink. “What?”

“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”

“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”

“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”

You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”

He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”

 And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.

But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”

With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed. 

You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.

In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.

But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.

“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”

You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”

He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.

You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.

“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.

With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.

You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.

Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.

In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.

The memory makes you smile.

“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”

You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”

“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”

“You’re really rude, you know that?”

“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”

You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”

“With what? Your teeth?”

You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.

The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.

Like—

“Really? An appletini?” 

With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”

He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”

Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”

“I make no promises.”

“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”

You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”

“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”

“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”

“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”

“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”

The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”

“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”

Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.

“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”

Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.

He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”

He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”

“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”

“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”

“It could be.”

“Harry…no—”

“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”

“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”

“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”

“Oh, you are so fucking—”

“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”

You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”

His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.

But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.

“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”

He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.

“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”

“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”

“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”

His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”

You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”

And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.

But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”

He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”

“No?”

His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”

“Then maybe you should.”

His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”

“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”

Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”

And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.

“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”

You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.

“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”

You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.

You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.

But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.

His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.

“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”

 The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.

You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”

“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”

“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”

He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.

However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you. 

And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.

His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame. 

You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals. 

But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.

And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance. 

You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.

But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.

His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”

And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s not funny.”

“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Well…try harder.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”

You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”

“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”

You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”

“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”

“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Well, you can’t. Remember?”

He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”

“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”

“Troll jokes. Funny.”

“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”

His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”

You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.

But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.

So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.

You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.

You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.

You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck. 

Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.

His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.

He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."

He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.

But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.

“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”

“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”

“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”

“Fine. Next time.”

And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…

It’s almost…nice? 

Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.

But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.

“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”

“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”

He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”

Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like your smile.”

You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”

He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.

But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.

With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.

But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”

“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”

He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”

He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”

“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”

You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.

The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”

“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”

“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”

“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”

With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force. 

And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.

He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh. 

His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.

And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.

You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you. 

He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at. 

“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”

You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.

He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”

You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.

But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning. 

He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.

He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit. 

The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.

“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”

And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before. 

Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow. 

And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.

“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”

And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.

Which only makes him laugh harder.

“I fucking hope so.”

Next Part:

~ Jealous*

Previous Part:

~ Off the Shelf*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @daphnesutton

[oo-delallymrcrow]

The Babysitter

A/N: I haven't jumped on a bandwagon so fast but this man has made me start writing again so here you go. Thank you so much for the love on my last story. It made my day 😊

This story is a little more spicy. Nothing to explicit and more suggestive.

Cooper had just moved into the neighborhood. Of course, with this divorce, Barbara got the house, and he had to move out.

He sighed as he went to check his mail when the sound of a door opening caught his attention. His new neighbor was a dad and a daughter who he got to know when they helped him move in. Y/N walked out with a smile and waved to him. Cooper smiled and waved back.

“Heading out to work, Y/N?” He called out as she walked toward him.

Cooper was older but not blind. Y/N was a young, beautiful woman that caught his attention. With her radiant smile and kind demeanor, she seemed like a breath of fresh air in his life.

“No Mr. Howard,” she laughed out, “not work. I'm still in college. Hopefully this degree will help get me one though.”

He hummed in agreement as she walked past him. He looked up to see her still walking before he called out to her.

“You walkin’?”

She stopped and turned to him. “Yeah? Gotta catch the bus.”

He stepped toward her and gestured back to the house.

“You're daddy doesn't take you?”

She shook her head, “no sir. He’s a businessman so he's on the road a lot.”

Cooper looked at his car before making up his mind.

“How about I take you then sweetheart?”

She smiled shyly down at her shoes, “oh I don't want to put you out Mr. Howard.”

“Please,” he scoffed as he led her toward his car. “You're not sweetheart. I'll be happy to know you're getting there safely.”

He opened the door as she smiled again, “thank you Mr. Howard.”

He smiled as her hand brushed along his as he muttered a welcome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Cooper pulled into his driveway, Janey was excited to be staying the weekend with her dad and was talking admittedly.

“-and then we can watch cartoons with some pancakes. Can we have pancakes for dinner? I think we should have pancakes for dinner.”

Cooper chuckled as he helped Janey out of the car.

“Whatever you want kiddo. It's our weekend for fun.”

She grinned up at him when a voice called out.

“Hi Mr. Howard. How's your day been?”

Cooper looked up at Y/N as she was walking past his house into her yard. She was smiling at him and glanced down at Janey at his side.

“And hello to you too.”

Janey smiled up at her and waved.

“Hi my name's Janey. I'm staying with my dad this weekend and we're having pancakes for dinner.”

Y/N’s smile widened and she glanced at Cooper, making his heart skip a beat at the glee he saw on her face. He remembered when he was taking her to school she mentioned that she wanted to be a teacher and how much she loved kids.

“Oh wow! You're a lucky kid. I wished I had pancakes for dinner. Are you going to have bacon and eggs too?”

Janey giggled as she nodded, “yes and we're going to watch cartoons!”

Y/N gasped, “Wow you have an amazing night planned huh?”

“Yep. It's gonna be a great weekend.”

Cooper watched the interaction with happiness blooming in his heart. He didn't think his daughter would like Y/N but she took a shine to her so easily. He was thinking about whether she would like to babysit some nights when he had her, when Janey interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you want to join us? You can have pancakes with us.”

Cooper snapped his head to Janey as she grinned up at him. His eyes narrowed at his daughter when a twinkle hit her eye. She turned to Y/N smiling sweetly at her.

“My daddy and I would love for you to come over. We can watch his new movie together.”

‘Oh this little-’ Cooper ran his hand down his face as he felt himself turn a little red at Janey's words.

He looked up at Y/N and saw her face look like it matched hers. He felt a little bad but thought why the hell not.

“Well,” he drawled out as her gaze shot to him. Her eyes made him pause as the setting sun caught the shine in them. They were really pretty. “If you're not busy. We would like you to join us.”

Y/N smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear before shaking her head.

“No, I'm not busy tonight.” She looked at Janey. “I would love to join you.”

She glanced up at Cooper, “and you're dad.”

He smiled and Janey squealed out a yes as she ran up the door to his house. She came over with a laugh. She offered to help bring Janey's things in as Cooper shook his head.

“Come on sweetheart. You are a guest and you need to relax. Now go on.”

Y/N blushed and he liked the look on her. She held the door open for him as he followed behind. Janey was playing with Roosevelt, giggling as he licked her face with his tail wagging in excitement. Y/N walked into the living room and let Roosevelt sniff her hand before giving it a lick. She smiled and leaned down to pet and scratch behind his ear, cooing about how he's a good boy.

Cooper smiled as he walked back to the extra bedroom he claimed was Janey's. As he set her suitcase down Janey's voice came from the doorway.

“Daddy?”

He knelt down as she walked up to him.

“Yes pumpkin?”

“I hope I didn't make you upset with inviting Y/N over. She just seemed really nice and she sounded like she was lonely.”

Cooper kissed the top of her head as he smiled, “you didn't upset me pumpkin. I think she was happy you invited her over. Now let's go make those pancakes before you get hungry.”

Janey smiled at her dad as he followed her out. Smiling at Y/N as she looked up from petting Roosevelt on the floor. She smiled and let Janey sit right next to her as she started asking about Y/N.

“What's your favorite cartoon? Oh do you like purple? My favorite color is purple.”

Cooper chuckled as he walked into the kitchen. The sound of his house filling with talk and laughter, something he was missing for awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that night Cooper asked Y/N if she would babysit for him if he ever got busy at work. She smiled and enthusiastically said yes and to give her a call whenever he needed her. When a day came that he needed her, she didn't hesitate to come over and wave him away with a laugh.

So, it became a little routine. He got a busy day with shooting, running a little late into the night. When coming home she would have Janey in bed and a home-cooked meal ready for him. It made Cooper want to spend more time with her than immediately sending her home. So he made sure to strike up conversations whenever she came over, always finding excuses to linger a little longer in her presence.

It was nice. It made Cooper feel normal after all of the chaos. Whenever they did just sit together or the random times he would come home to Y/N and Janey having dinner. She would smile and fix him a plate as he sat down. They all laughed and enjoyed dinner together. It was a happy little family.

So his mind started putting her into different fantasies. They started innocent at first. A family day around town. Going grocery shopping together. Just sitting by the fireplace, cuddling up together, as Janey sat and played with her dolls or coloring while watching tv.

Then one night as Cooper had trouble falling asleep, his mind went down a different path. Coming home to you and bending you over the counter. Making you stay in bed all day as he worshipped your body. That's what you deserved after taking care of him so well.

He felt a little guilty when he had to clean himself after coming to the thought of you, but it was his little secret that he didn't share. He knew it was just one sided and didn't have a chance with her.

Until a day came where she flirted with him. It caught him by surprise. He didn't think anyone would find him attractive with how much older he was. But there you were and it made his heart beat just a little faster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Saturday morning. Janey wasn't with him this weekend so he slept in a little longer. When he got out of bed and walked to the kitchen to get some coffee the doorbell rang out. He huffed and went to open it, not expecting anyone this morning.

Opening the door, Y/N was standing there with a bright smile like always. Her mouth dropped open a little at surprise and it made Cooper confused. Until he realized he goes to bed with just sleep pants and he was standing in front of you shirtless. He felt heat in his cheeks and spread down his neck as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry Y/N. Um, can I help you?”

He watched as her gaze ran down his body before catching his eye again. She blushed and glanced away.

“Sorry Mr. Howard. I was coming over to see Janey.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him.

“She's not here. She's at her mother's this weekend.”

She blinked up at him before making an ‘oh’ face. She scratched the side of her head before slightly turning away.

“Sorry for interrupting your morning then. I'll be on my way.”

Before she could fully turn around, Cooper called out.

“Wait, um did you want to come inside? I was going to make coffee. Maybe if you joined me I'll make a little breakfast for us.”

She turned back and bite her bottom lip. “I would like that.”

He stepped back and let Y/N walk past him. She was trying not to let her gaze linger and wander. But he saw her eyes drop down again and it made Cooper feel heated.

He followed her into the living where he stopped and motioned towards his room.

“I'll just go throw on a shirt and then I'll make us breakfast.”

He walked down the hall but stopped suddenly when he heard her say, “I'd prefer if you didn’t.”

His eyes widened before he shouted, “what was that?”

He heard her let out a little squeak and a nothing. It made Cooper feel better about himself. It made him feel attractive again. So he walked out standing a little taller and was more confident about himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently she wanted the same. And over the next few weeks he noticed that they both flirted back and forth. She started staying an extra hour or two just to sit and talk about their day. Shooting was a bitch sometimes and classes made her want to rip her hair out.

“I'm surprised that- what's his name?” Cooper looked up at her as she chewed at her lip.

“Matthew,” she sighed out, throwing her head back to face the ceiling.

He took the opportunity to let his gaze run down her body. She was just sitting there and there he was, wondering if she threw her head back when she pleasured herself. Gasping up to the ceiling and-

Cooper shook his head with a groan. Making her look at him in concern.

“Are you alright Mr. Howard?”

“Fine darlin’.” He growled out as he faced away from her.

He heard a hitch in her breath at his new nickname for her and it made him smirk a little.

“What did Matthew do?”

She groaned and buried her face into her hands. She mumbled a reply and leaned toward her to pull her hands away from her face.

“Couldn't quite hear you,” he smirked, “darlin’.”

Her breath got caught again and she looked away with a blush as she spoke.

“He asked me out on a date.”

Cooper looked at her and couldn't help the bolt of jealousy that went through him. He cleared his throat and stood up to head to the bar to get a drink.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

‘Quit talking Cooper.’ He poured himself some whiskey. ‘Don't say anything stupid. Don't need to scare her off.’

“A beautiful woman such as yourself should have a boys falling at your feet. I know I would”

It was silent for a minute before he faced her with a grimace.

‘Said the stupid thing.’

She looked down at the couch, picking at a stray string on her sweater. He wished he kept his mouth shut as he took a step forward.

“Sorry if I made it awkward.”

She shook her head quickly, “no you didn't make it awkward Mr. Howard. I just don't like…”

Her face flushed red looking up at him before shooting her gaze back down. He chewed at his bottom lip and gazed down at the glass in his hand.

“I don't like boys,” she finished her statement making Cooper raise his gaze to hers. Surprised that she held it as he felt heat raise up his neck toward his cheeks. He cleared his throat before asking.

“What do you mean-”

“Men.” She stated bluntly. “I like older men. A man who is willing to take care of me and show me new things to try.”

She stood and slowly walked to him. His gaze running up and down her body as she sauntered up to him.

“Uh-”

“I like when a man takes care of his child.” She smiles up at him and glances off to the side.

“It shows me that he's a good father and,” she bite at her lip as she ran a hand down his chest. Cooper held his breathe as she looked up at him. “I wouldn't mind him putting a few kids into me.”

Cooper threw his glass to the side to cup her face and smashed his lips against hers. The past few weeks making Cooper take his chance. She let out a small squeak but followed his lead. He ran his hand down to her hip and turned them around as he backed her up into the wall. He placed his other hand beside her head on the wall as he pulled away to catch his breath.

He waited as Y/N slowly opened her eyes in a daze before he licked his lips.

‘Sweet,” he thought as he tasted her chapstick. ‘Of course she tastes sweet.’

“Darlin'” he practically growled put as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You need to tell me now if you want this. If you want to walk out and forget it happened.”

Cooper paused at that statement and hoped to god she didn't reject him.

“Cooper,” she all but purred as she stood up and tip toes. “If I didnt want this. I wouldnt have flirted with you until you got the hint.”

She brushed her lips to his as he ran his hand down to squeeze her ass. She let out a harsh breath and whined as he chuckled.

“Duly noted sweetheart.”

He pressed his lips to hers again as she moaned out. He pressed his body and slotted his leg between hers. She threw her head back with a cry of his name as she rolled her hips. It clicked in his head that she was calling him Cooper instead of Mr. Howard. He pressed a few soft kisses down her neck.

“Never thought I'd like my name falling out of your mouth this much.”

She let out a small breathless laugh as he nibbled at her ear.

“You should hear when I moan it, done that a few times. Maybe screamed it too.”

Cooper let out a low moan and pulled away to hoist Y/N up and over his shoulder. She giggled as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom muttering about how she's being a tease.

“Gonna have to teach ya a few manners, darlin’.”

[defrosted69]

My Laker Star P.3 (Kang Haerin)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hey everyone. Here's a finale of this series. After a long sleep in this platform, I have returned briefly. I hope you all enjoy this one. And one last tip from me, I suggest you listen to the song "First Love" by Hikaru Utada throught out the story, especially at the end of this one. I promise you, you wont regret it.

(7.3k words total)

.

.

.

With everyone looking asleep, her light footstep led her through each room of the hostel, and she had to double-check to make sure everyone was still groggy from yesterday's schedule. She didn't have to open the third door any farther since her Unnie's heavy snoring was audible.

"Welp, at least I know she's knocked out."

She thought to herself before once again tip toeing her way to the living room. With a swift motion, she turned their TV on, sat on the couch, covered herself with her blanket and switched the program to...

The NBA channel.

"Welcome everyone to a chilly night here in downtown LA as we are in for a treat for an exciting match up between the home team, Los Angeles Lakers and hot winning team in the east, The Indiana Pacers. Tonight we'll get to see a match up of Point Guards between Y/N McDaniels and Tyrese Haliburton. "

"That's right Mike, tonight we'll get to see the NBA best passers duking it out to see who's the best passer in the NBA and lead their team tonight to victory. Will the Pacers extend their winning streak to 5 games or will they fall to the 10th seed Lakers?"

"Y/N with the ball. Bringing the ball half court. A screen from Wood and he's bursting to the lane and throws it down right at Myles Turner! Wow!"

"Oohhhh. Right at the face of Myles Turner Mike! That's all elevation. Wow! This kid is incredible man"

Haerin's eyes had never been so wide with joy as she watched you play your heart out on the court. Every shot you fired, she'd hop up and down, leaving her seat, but she'd understand she shouldn't make too much noise. Her smile never left her face while the game went on. But perhaps this was also her weakness since while she's engaged on the game, she frequently, if not always, forgets about her surroundings.

"With 12 seconds left, the lakers trail by 1 and we all know where the ball is going. Y/N is doubled team. Here we go, Austin looking, Looking, passes it to Y/N. Doubled team, crossed to the left shoot-OHHHH!! Fouled and-1, 4 point play by Y/N! How did he do that?!"

"Hehe, Your so good Y/N!"

"Oh he's cute."

Haerin flinched hearing another voice next to her. Her head has never turned so fast in her entire life and so did her member who chuckled seeing her reaction.

"U-Unnie?"

"Hmm? Why are you looking scared? Did you lose your parley?"

"My what?"

"Nothing. But why are you watching basketball? I never knew you liked that sport."

Danielle yawned slightly as she sat comfortable on their couch. She awoke inadvertently by sliding out of bed while dreaming she was leaping out of a plane. Haerin's cheering was the first thing she heard, which jolted her awake. Because Haerin seldom celebrates or cheers.

"Uhhh ummm... Uhhh.."

Haerin used her normal mental lag to make it appear as if she doesn't know, while also buying time so Danielle lost interest in the issue. Knowing that she has a short attention span, Haerin used this to her advantage, making her believe she had no knowledge.

And somehow it works.

Danielle was weary of watching Haerin say nothing and stare at her like a cat. So she did what the majority of her members do, and by that she meant herself. She pounced for Haerin, cuddling her like a gigantic teddy bear, and Haerin simply accepted her faith. In her opinion, this was the ideal circumstance for getting Danielle to stop pestering her about the channel and why she would rather watch and experience the excitement and delight of basketball alone. Even if she has members who adore her like she is their own sister, Haerin was still holding back her excitement for athletics.

As Haerin glanced at the television, she spotted you being interviewed, and her normal poker face changed into a smile as she saw the team win and you being named the game's best player. Of course, given that you are the team's top player, it is unavoidable, but your accomplishments always strike a chord with her.

Because she has followed your path as well as her own, she knows the difficulties and sacrifices you have made to become who you are. In a way, she believes that whatever you achieve in the league, she achieves as well.

She felt such a strong connection to you. It was a rare occasion in which you could relate to someone. She doesn't look up to this idol, but she can connect to their experience. You can't help but support someone no matter how different you are. Haerin was in the Kpop sector, while you were in the professional sports world. Two different worlds, yet she idolized and looked up to you because she admired your narrative and couldn't help but compare it to hers.

Many others may label her clinging, insane, or too committed to a fake link that does not exist, but Haerin thought it was genuine. The instant she saw you dribble down the court in the house Kobe constructed, she knew you were the guy she would look up to.

Despite her claims that you are her idol, as a Kpop idol, she is repeatedly asked in interviews who her idol is, but she can't speak your name without recalling a sad experience. That trauma prevents her from properly revealing who she looks up to. There were several opportunities to utter your name, but when she opened her mouth, there was only stillness and heated air.

"Hmm? Basketball? You two liked watching basketball?"

A smaller girl asked them as Hanni woke up from her deep slumber. She was ready to face whatever they had today and what she didn't expect to see first thing in the morning is their TV on and set on the NBA channel.

Of course, it's not as if they don't watch sports; it's just that they don't watch them all the time. The majority of them understood what basketball was and how it was played, but none of them were big fans of the sport in general. If Hanni classified them as fans, they'd fall within the casual group. Only heard about it and saw excerpts on Twitter or Instagram.

"Hmm? Oh no It was just there when we opened the TV. Probably Manager Oppa was watching NBA replays last night before he left."

Danielle spoke on Haerin's behalf as a cover, and she smiled slightly, grateful for Danielle's reasons. It may have been a falsehood, but Haerin appreciated her efforts to cover for her.

"Ah I see. Well I'm going back to bed. Don't tell Minji thought."

And with those words stated, Hanni returned to her room to continue her nice sleep. The group did not appear to have any planned activities for the day, therefore it was a rare occurrence when they had a day off. With their notoriety, they seldom had days off, but they used them to rest. Danielle released go of Haerin's grasp and gazed at the girl before speaking.

"Okay you gotta tell me now why you like Basketball and why are you hiding it."

Haerin's eyes expand slightly, despite her customary blank expression. She didn't expect Danielle to be that tenacious about something because she typically loses interest quickly. But this time it was the opposite: Danielle wanted to know the truth behind Haerin's passion of basketball. Her curiosity couldn't be contained, and she'd do anything to find out why.

"Because I'm simply a fan of it Unnie. There's nothing too deep to talk about it so stop whatever your thinking Unnie."

Haerin's response took Danielle by suprise litterally and figuratively for 2 reasons.

 One, When Haerin said those words, Danielle noted how her brow wrinkled downwards, as if she was furious at her for asking such a question. She felt as if she had insulted her in some manner she didn't understand. All she did was ask an innocent inquiry.

Secondly, This was the first time Haerin had spoken to her in such a chilly and menacing manner. The group has been together for three years, and they recognize each other even when they close their eyes. They can readily identify who is who when given a description. Despite this, Haerin was never as frigid in her responses to any of them. Haerin's statements conveyed a hostile tone, which both scared and worried Danielle.

This was nothing the Haerin she knew about that's why she was left speechless and stunned to say anything back at her. She couldn't formulate any thoughts on how she could reply back towards her. Seeing the shocked and stunned face of Danielle, Haerin sighed a long one before standing up saying

"Sorry, I'll go somewhere for now. I'll be back before dinner Unnie."

As she rose up from her seat, she went to her room to change into a shirt and joggers, covered by a Nike jacket. She then grabbed her basketball, which was on her floor. All Danielle could do was watch Haerin depart their dorm, astonished and perplexed as to what had gotten her so defensive about the subject.

"Did I touch a sensitive topic for her? But why?"

Danielle pondered that concept as she lay flat on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling, seeking to connect the dots. And trying to find what she was seeking for.

.

.

.

"Well that's the end of our season. What's your plan Y/N?"

As the squad finished their final game of the season, everyone in the locker room had different reactions to how their season ended. Some believed they did well, while others felt they could have done more to strive for a postseason seed berth, but the odds were not against them because health was the clear asterisk for this squad. Many of their major players went on to miss over half of the season combined. You and Austin Reaves were the only two players on the club who never missed a game during the season, but it wasn't enough.

Add in dubious coaching throughout the season, and the entire roster wondered if their coach ever trusted them. Players who were doing admirably were suddenly forced to take DNPs due to an experimental roster that had never played together before. It felt like they were competing against each other because no one knew what sort of play style they all had. Everything was just a mix of terrible luck and dubious coaching that led to this team's season-ending ouster.

"I don't know. After the exit interview later, I'll either sleep or sleep."

"I get you man but how's you and that Korean chic?"

Austin's inquiry simply made matters worse for you, as the thought of the season ending tonight left a bad taste in your mouth. And now AR had to bring up the subject with you and Yunjin. Heck, the entire Lesserafim was something you had to consider.

Relationships are something you're not sure you're ready for. Although you are dating Yunjin, there are serious uncertainties about whether you actually loved her or were simply swept up in the moment. Obviously, everyone in Lesserafim was lovely and attractive in their own right, but there was something lacking. When you think back on your time with Yunjin, you notice something is lacking.

You don't know what it is but you wanted to know more about it.

"Still dating. I'm planning to head to Korea later on actually. Take a break or something. I need to clear my mind after all this Laker stress man."

AR could only laugh at you, knowing it was the wisest thing to do after this disastrous season. Your body needs to recuperate after working so hard for the team. It was sad that you accomplished so much to keep the Lakers afloat in the standings, but it wasn't enough. Your amazing comeback against Milwaukee, your 57 points against the Bulls, your clutch three-pointer against the Celtics, resulting in their sole loss of the season, and lastly, your 1,000 assists, making you the youngest to accomplish this achievement.

All of that effort went for naught, as the Lakers couldn't even get a whiff of the eighth spot beginning in February. Since then, the Lakers have fluctuated between the 10th and 12th seeds in the last week of the regular season. Obviously, the media was criticizing you for not being able to lead the club to victory, given that LeBron is retiring, AD's contract expires this offseason, which means he's gone, and this will now be your team.

But having 2 hall of famers on your roster, yet you can't win?

Stephen A. Smith and Skip Bayless will surely have a field day with your name tomorrow morning. But you just let the so called analytics talk whatever they want because that's what makes them relevant. All you can do is accept the criticism and be better for the next season.

As you ended your farewell interview, you informed the reporters that you attempted to accept responsibility for your mistakes this season and improve for the next. Although several individuals attempted to hint to the coaching problem, you just responded that some plays were supposed to work and others did not. Shading individuals is not something you do while you are still relatively new to the league. You are practically sealing your legacy at this time.

However, with the exit interview behind you, the disappointment lingers as you drive. Your mind was continually reminding you that you could have done better, but that is how it is. The season ended unexpectedly due to a variety of factors. Aside from the fact that the season ended earlier than intended, you may have also considered AR. Did you truly adore Yunjin? You didn't want to be disrespectful to Yunjin or anyone in Lesserafim since we were discussing sentiments. One false action and all may be ruined in an instant.

Checking your phone, the image of you and Yunjin glowed under the screen and somehow, the smile you used to have begin to disappear. Surely this was a normal feeling right? After all it's just a wallpaper.

"I need to see her"

.

.

.

With each stride Haerin took, the court got closer to her. Nobody in the firm, including her members, knew about this location behind their company, which was often utilized for rubbish disposal. But Haerin spotted a court with a sturdy hoop. The green patch was visible in the little gaps under the concrete floor, yet it did not upset Haerin at all.

She dribbled the ball one time before releasing a pure mid-range from 15 feet away from the basket.

Only for it to brick the basket, Haerin laughed as she missed her first shot. She waddled to catch the ball and fired it from the board for her second shot. Haerin was dressed comfortably, similar to her rehearsal attire.

As the ball swished through the net, Haerin's smile seems to get bigger and bigger at every shot she made. She was making easy shot such as Jumpers and running layup but as time goes forward, Haerin decided to intensify her shots.

As she dribbled the ball away from the basket near the 3-point line. She took one deep breath before dribbling the ball forward with her body in a propelling angle. As the ball bounces off the hard concrete ground, she crossed the ball towards her left hand and started to sprint while dribbling the ball. With the net nearing her sight, she stopped her dribble before turning her back against the net. She half shifted to the right before fully rotating to the left for a hook shot that swished through the net.

As the ball bounced off the ground she giggled as she finally done perfected one of your move. She wasn't just loving the game of basketball but she also loves the iconic moves of the NBA legends and all-star.

But despite her love of the game, she couldn't forget the painful memory that comes at the cost of enjoying basketball.

.

.

.

She was introduced to the sport at a young age by her uncle who's a crazy fan of basketball. She recalls the times she was invited to watch her uncle play the sport in some local gym. The joy and smile he had while playing the sport was what got her hooked. But as she picked up a ball, everyone suddenly started telling her that the sport isn't for her.

"Kid, you should play with barbie dolls and houses. This game isn't for you."

Those words from her uncle's teammate still haunts her to this day as they labeled her sport by her gender. As young as Haerin was, that was first true heartbreak for her because she felt helpless and devastated to hear those. And she would have just brushed those thoughts aside if it wad kids around her age but no, it was adults who told her to stop dreaming about playing basketball.

Her uncle of course defend Haerin to the point, everyone almost got into a scuffle only for the GYM owners to separate them apart. But despite the fight not continuing, the damage had already been done to her as all she can do was look down as her uncle walked her home.

"Say Haerin. Wanna shoot some mini hoops?"

"No need uncle, I'm not born to play that sport.."

Her uncle sighed as he regretted having Haerin watch her game. He didn't expect those dudes to call out a child like that who just wants to have fun. He ruffled her hair as Haerin pouted at that action. She had always hated it when her hair gets shuffled unexpectedly and this was no different.

"Uncle-"

"Tell me Haerin. Did you enjoy watching me play basketball?"

"Of course!"

"Do you want to play the sport?"

"But I'm not allowed to.."

Her uncle chuckled seeing her cute niece look down in shame. Life have always been a suprise to many and right now, Haerin thinking that Basketball is only played by one gender is false.

"Haerin-ah, Nobody should stop you from enjoying what you want. If it makes you happy, you should chase it and never look back."

"But Uncle-"

"Haerin-ah, Don't follow the crowd, my dear child. Instead, listen to your heart and create your own path. True happiness comes from within and when you stay true to yourself."

The smile that her uncle had that day showed her a bigger picture. Despite people wanting to pull you down, there will always be someone that will support you through and through. Haerin believed in the words of her uncle and stayed true to herself.

Basketball became her sport as she grew older, and her parents were very supportive of her. Despite her peers playing and growing up with gentle games, Haerin likes to dribble and shoot like Curry in their garden, envisioning her shots as game winners.

But as Middle school comes around, she was once again faced with adversity that had her scarred for life.

It was during their Physics Education period and their teacher wanted them to play sport games. Some groan some were smiling and Haerin had her poker face on, but internally, she was smiling ear to ear. As they all went to the school GYM. Haerin immediately picked up the basketball and what happened next was something she didn't expect to happen.

"Eh? Why are you picking up a basketball Haerin? Don't tell me your... Into that stuff."

As one of her classmate said that, everyone else followed to stare at her and at that exact moment, her heart began to act differently. Their eyes suddenly became so big and their shadows tower over her making her feel like she's surrounded by giants.

Her heart starts racing, beating erratically against her chest like a trapped bird desperately seeking escape. The air around her seems thick and suffocating, making every breath feel labored and shallow.

Her mind spirals into a vortex of irrational fears and negative thoughts, amplifying each sound and sensation until they become overwhelming.

A distant murmur transforms into a deafening roar in her ears, while the touch of fabric against her skin feels like prickly needles. Panic takes hold, gripping her tightly in its invisible claws, leaving her helpless and vulnerable.

Every attempt to regain control only fuels the anxiety further, creating a self-perpetuating cycle of fear and distress. It's as if her body is betraying her, turning against itself in this unexpected battle for sanity.

She couldn't handle it anymore as she dashed through the crowd, holding and closing ears from the murmurs that echoed through the area. Her heart beating so loud telling her to keep running and never look back. Tears falls off her cheeks as her eyes had uncontrollably started shedding her tears without her command.

But unlike before, She had nobody to run into.

Her uncle had died, leaving pleasant memories of Haerin to keep her sane in the harsh world they were living in. But her passing meant she'd lost her primary source of support and idol. Haerin was left alone to confront the world of misery and agony, and she was currently submitting to it all.

She couldn't handle everything on her own.

.

.

.

Haerin groaned and gazed at the ball for a few seconds before continuing to dribble away from the hoop. Since then, Haerin has kept her passion of basketball to herself, never sharing her excitement for the sport with anyone. Her parents were surprised that she wasn't sweating every day shooting hoops in the backyard, but instead watching YouTube videos in her room.

She had closed the door of enjoying the sport with others and decided that this sport is only for her to enjoy and nobody else.

It didn't matter if she would harshly push anyone who tries play basketball with her, it didn't matter if it was her own members who wanted to play with her. She would immediately decline and ignore their invitation.

dribbling the ball, Haerin shoot a long 3 pointer that sinks right into the net effortlessly. And her shot wouldn't go unnoticed.

"Nice form"

A sudden voice alerted Haerin as she flinched and froze on the spot. As the ball rolled further away from her, it stopped once it reached your foot. You kneeled down to pick up the ball and gently gave Haerin a chest pass to which she managed to barely catch. She was star struck to see you face to face with her.

"Ummm...I'm sorry to ask this but are you.. Y/N McDaniels?"

Haerin shyly asked as you laughed and nodded your head at her. Your arrival in Korea was unexpectedly faster than what you thought. The private Jet that the Lakers provided you not only drived so fast but it felt like a 10 minute ride. Technology sure is scary.

"That I am. You shooting hoops?"

"Ah yes!"

Haerin suddenly pulled her smile back immediately despite seeing you in person. But she also felt like her demeanor of playing alone changed when you arrived. It felt like she was still playing by herself and alone. She shook her head off that thought and shoot her shot, but it bricked the rim as you jumped in and grabbed the ball.

Knowing the rules, Haerin went under the basket ready for a rebound as you took the ball out and shot a wide open 3 pointer, only for it to brick as Haerin chased it down and grab it. This process continued for quite sometime with the only words exchanged between you two were "Nice one" and "My ball". Some would argue this was awkward to be in but Haerin didn't feel like it. She felt so naturally free whenever she's on the court but with someone sharing the court with her? She never thought about it until you came.

As the two of you sat down to catch your breaths, You offered Haerin an extra water bottle you had in your bag to which Haerin shyly accepted. With the two of you sitting quietly, you decided to break the ice and speak first.

"So, what's your name?"

"Vanessa Kang..or you can call me Haerin.. Sir."

You laughed at her formality with you but dismiss it since it didn't bother you one bit.

"No need to be formal Haerin. It's just us two hoopers here anyway."

"Umm...Its just your my idol and It's not easy for me to drop the honorifics."

Haerin fidgeted her fingers as she looked down. She didn't know how to act in front of her idol because, most of the time, she is the one who draws attention due to the large number of her supporters. But, right now, she's a fan and you're the idol, so the positions are reversed.

"It's fine Haerin. I'm not that old yet anyway."

"Yeah 3 years apart.."

"What?"

You blinked a couple times before staring at Haerin who's face was completely red. She just dropped an important information about you and now her identity was fully blown. Haerin gulped before turning her head to look at you with a complete red face.

"I'm guessing your a fan of mine?"

"Ummm......yes.."

Haerin soften her voice on the last part as she wasn't confident on being your fan but your sharp ears managed to hear it. You laughed full heartedly at her as she looked at you confused. Was her approach wrong that you got the wrong idea or she had something on her face?

"Sorry, Sorry I just find it cute how your being shy admitting being a fan of basketball."

"Ummm...I just don't want people to see me differently.."

Your smile slowly disappeared after hearing the words that Haerin spoke. What she said raised your curiosity as you didn't understand what she meant by it.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just... Went through a tough time of people accepting that I like basketball more unlike other sports.."

Although you haven't heard much about her tale, her voice was enough to tell you that she went through hardship while trying to play the sport that she loved.

"Haerin, Happiness doesn't come from the words of others, it comes from the voices of your heart."

Haerin widen her eyes as your words reminded her of the words spoken by her own uncle. She looked at you as you gave her a warm smile.

"Don't let others dictate your happiness, Make it your own Haerin."

She felt her uncle's nostalgia in your words. Even if the words were altered, the message remained the same. To be joyful regardless of what others say. That was what her uncle had told her about life in general, not just hoops. She aspired to be an Idol because she enjoyed dancing to music. She wanted their music to be heard and enjoyed by their listeners.

Your comments triggered a deep memory for Haerin, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Not long later, she lost control of her tears and began weeping. You worried when you saw her break down because you didn't know what to do. You chose to softly touch her back while Haerin sobs slowly. You weren't very good at emotional scenarios like this one, and you thought it would calm her down. You didn't have your handkerchief when you really needed it.

As Haerin calmed down, she wiped the remaining tears on her eyes away before looking at you with a soft stare.

"Thanks and.. Sorry for crying out of nowhere."

"It's fine. That's okay. Maybe we can shoot hoops again to clear your mind?"

Haerin laughed at your idea, but she nodded, knowing that it would undoubtedly help her clear her mind. As the two of you proceeded to play hoops, Haerin's cat curiosity took over, and she questioned why you were here in the first place.

"Y/N, can I ask why your here in Korea?"

She said after passing you the ball in a perfect bounce pass. You chuckled at her question before releasing the shot for a 13 feet jumper.

"I'm just here to confirm something is all."

"Really? What's it about?"

"My own feelings"

Haerin widened her eyes slightly before handing the ball back to you, since this surprised her. Someone in the country seemed to have taken interest in the guy she adored. She isn't sure whether she would be joyful or sad. She may be thrilled since a celebrity like you like someone from her nation is something she should be proud of. Sadly, that wasn't her.

Haerin quickly flushed scarlet as she thought about it, because it came out of nowhere and was so strange for her to think about. Her cheeks were flaming, and her heart was beating faster as she watched you dribble the ball up to the rim. She swallowed nervously, as that unexpected notion had forever altered her perception of you.

.

.

.

Haerin had seen you around the corporate building for weeks, but as the days passed, the grin on your face faded, which bothered her. She wanted to ask you about this, but all she could do was shoot hoops with you to alleviate your concerns. But the more she learned about your position, the more she questioned if she was even suited to be around you. Your statements showing your perplexity and irritation with Yunjin make her feel like she's nothing more than a pillar of strength for you.

She doesn't mind it, but she wished she was in Yujin's position.

Even if she is your wall of support, she hoped that a small part of herself is what you are seeking for instead. Since the prospect of you entering her life, her attitude toward you has drastically altered. She found herself doing something she didn't often do, which surprised her members. When she shoots hoops with you, she wears everything from light makeup to red lipstick and blush. Minji observed this recently, and as the group's leader, she had to ask her why their beloved cat has been acting strangely lately.

"Haerin? Can we talk?"

"Oh, sure Unnie."

As Minji enters her room, she looked around her room to see nothing out of the usual. So she took her seat on the edge of her bed.

"I was just wondering, What are you doing outside? You seem to be going outside lately. Is there somewhere your visiting?"

Minji's questions didn't have any vile intentions in them but rather a voice, of a worried and curious leader. Haerin wanted to shake her head to deny her claims but your words rang through her head. She wanted to find that happiness and she knows she can't fully enjoy that happiness alone. She needed to take a step forward away from her comfort zone and see what lies beyond.

"Yeah, I have been playing basketball again."

"Really? That's so cool!"

Haerin couldn't believe it. Someone aside from her said that the sport she's doing is something amazing. She was expecting the usual reaction from her previous encounters of this confession yet this time, it was the opposite.

"Unnie, you don't find that... Weird?"

"Of course not! Why would I find you playing basketball weird. In fact I want to see you play. Oh, Maybe we can all play basketball sometimes! I can set up a date-"

Minji couldn't continue her statement because Haerin cut her off with a warm, tight embrace. For the first time in her life, Haerin felt relieved that she no longer needed to close the door. She felt less alone than she had in a long time. For the first time in a long time, she met someone who understood her.

"Unnie.."

"What’s wrong Haerin? Do you want to invite the members too? I'm sure they would love to play with you."

"No Unnie, I'm happy. I'm just happy and thank you."

Minji couldn't understand where Haerin was coming from, but with her appreciation, she could only see it as a positive thing. As Haerin continued to hug Minji, she realized she might need some help with the preadicament she was facing.

"Unnie, Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What is it Haerin-ah?"

"Umm.. Is it okay.. For a girl to like a guy.. Who's like trying to like fix their relationship that don't seem to work and, she's acting as the guy's support, but he doesn't know that the girl has developed feelings for him. Or is that wrong?"

Minji pondered on this thought as this was something she wasn't familiar with. But with her expertise in watching K-Drama on the television, she has one answer for that one.

"If that's the case, I suggest the girl to stop being the guy's support because as I see it. She's becoming a rebound for the guy. Well unintentionally that is."

When Haerin heard those words, she stopped her breath for a moment as a little pain struck her heart. Being labeled a rebound is the last thing she wanted to be termed. But when she thinks back on her time with you, she was your rock, and every tale she hears about Yunjin tears her heart apart.

That wasn't happiness for her.

Perhaps it was time to listen to her Leader's advice and be the person that she has always been. A girl who loves performing in front of her fans and enjoy playing basketball.

"Yeah, Your right Unnie. Anyway I'll be at the court now."

"Okay, Alright. Be back before dinner okay? And stay safe."

Haerin chuckled hearing the words of their eldest and leader as she identically sounded like her own mother with her tone and delivery.

"I will."

With a clear understanding of what she needed to do, she made her way to the court where she had become accustomed to meeting you. With every step seeming to be loaded with the few memories you two shared, it felt bittersweet that she was willing to let go of everything in such a short period of time. During that period, she became aware of numerous things she had previously avoided.

Being able to enjoy basketball without being bothered by others, finding satisfaction in the company of others, and generally enjoying life. Despite the brief time together, she has become connected to you, which is the terrible part. She's terrified of facing you now. She is unsure how she will deal with you after this, or if it is best to simply withdraw from your life for ever.

What Hurts more is she's letting go of her idol.

The person she looks up too.

The person she admire so much.

The person she fell in love with.

And

The person that will break her heart.

Just thinking about the night hoops you played and the late-night food tour across Seoul makes her melancholy. Haerin had become a tourist during the day and a wall of support at night. Haerin was eager to be at your side, and she couldn't remember how many times she ran to the court only to be your ear and shoulder to depend on.

As this idea occurred to her, it became more difficult for her to continue her trek towards the court since her eyes were already filled with tears for you. She had never thought that loving someone could be so difficult. She never considered the possibility of love since she never took such things seriously. She couldn't understand why her Unnies were so obsessed with romantic dramas and other aspects of love.

But now she realized, what love is.

And she got the bitter part of it.

Taking a deep breath, she continued on with her walk as she spotted you sitting on the bench watching the passing cars go by. Your presence alone makes her heart flutter and make her knees go weak. As you wave and smile at her, the heat crept it's way up her cheeks as she continued her descend on the stairs towards the court. But her eyes never left you and as soon as she took one misstep, her foot slipped and was stumbling to-

"Gotcha. You alright Haerin?"

Your buffed arms managed to catch her fragile small body as she directly stared at you with admiration and with love. Her heart raced faster than it was earlier and this was a scene straight out of the romance movies. After catching herself, she immediately pushed you away standing up by herself as her action caught you by suprise

"Haerin? Is everythin-"

"Please... Let's stop seeing each other."

As hard as it is to hear someone say that to you, Haerin is the one who is most saddened. By confessing those words, she is letting go of all the memories she has with you. But, more crucially, she is willing to let you go.

"Y/N, The last few weeks has been nothing but a blast I had with you and nothing can replace those moments with anyone. You thought me what it means to be happy once again but more importantly, you helped me realize how to enjoy basketball once again."

"Haerin.."

"I became your wall of support and ear whenever you visit Yunjin and I understand that. You and Yunjin are meant for each other and probably trying to fix the relationship you two had. I don't want to be a nuisance to both of you once you two figured it out.."

As her emotions have caught up to her words, she tried to suppress the tears that was slowly falling down her cheeks as she immediately Wipes them off. With every second passing by, her heart was being torned apart.

"You know Y/N, because of you, I enjoyed things that I usually don't do. Like applying lipsticks, using the eye liner, using lip tint, applying blush on, and wearing cute clothes. Before I'm only doing those because I'm a Kpop Idol but with you, I enjoy doing them because of you. "

"Haerin.."

"I want to say goodbye, but that would be too sad and I don't want this to be the end of us meeting. So Y/N.."

A soft breeze passed you two by as her hair danced with the air showing a long haired beautiful angel crying.

"I hope to see you again."

With those last words spoken by her, her heart has completely shattered into thousand pieces. She couldn't look you in the face or else she might breakdown completely. So turning her back around, she was ready to let you go and move forward in her life.

"Preety Kang, who said this is the end?"

You smirked as Haerin stopped on her tracks. Your voice still had a huge effect on her as you took steps closer to her. Panic began to rise all over body as she didn't know what will happen next.

"You said you were a nuisance? I called you a ball of sunshine."

"Stop it..."

"You said I showed you happiness? How can you be so sure when YOU'RE my happiness."

"Please.. Stop.."

"All my life, I have watched opportunities slip by my hands. And Days I spent with you were the opportunities I didn't slip by. Because of you, I learned who I am."

"Y/N..."

"Kang Haerin. I'm not letting you go anymore. My heart beats for you and only you. If your not ready now, I'll wait and I'll keep waiting until our paths cross again. Because if Love didn't happen, I wouldn't have met you."

"......"

"Kang Haerin, The girl I love is you."

Haerin had never twirled so fast her life as she spinned back towards you and jumping into your body as you catches her. Her tears couldn't be controlled anymore as she cried her heart out not out of sadness this time. But in happiness.

"Y/N!!"

"I'm here Haerin. I'm here."

As you stroked her hair, Haerin buried her face in your chest, weeping gently as she heard your heart's lovely rhythm. She couldn't believe her modest wish had come true. For you, the decision was not simple. The way you went to korea hoping to connect with Yunjin failed. You tried your best to make your heart beat for her but despite the efforts, Haerin was the one chiming your heart.

Every time you go closer to Yunjin, your mind only sees one cat, which was unjust to Yunjin. You had to tell her the truth, but Yunjin was the first person to say farewell to you. She knew the minute you first dated her, your heart couldn't hold her. No matter how hard she tried, she could see straight through you, and when she saw you smiling genuienly, she knew someone had already stolen your heart.

And she didn't want your friendship to be broken due to one-sided passion. As terrible as it is for her, she genuinely loved you and chose your happiness above her own. She understood that love needs sacrifices, and she was prepared to make the biggest sacrifice of her own love for your love story.

You shed your own share of tears as Yunjin said her farewell to you because despite not fully loving her, a part of your heart truly did loved her genuienly and honestly. It felt heart breaking despite not truly loving her. It confuses you but with one door closes, another one opens.

As you looked at your lock screen, the picture of you and Yunjin was difficult to remove. But, knowing that you and Yunjin had failed, you pinned all of your hopes on one girl. The girl who has been with you since your arrival and is the only one who has remained in your head and heart.

Haerin, your constant companion and supporter during your time in Korea. Her temperament and beauty are too appealing not to notice her. Not only that, but she keeps you smiling and understands how to connect with you. She was everything you didn't realize you needed. You still recall the day your heart sang for her. When you were rushing away from a paparazzi at night, her warm little hands entwined around yours, and her charming grin brightened the darkness. At that same moment, you knew your heart was pounding for Kang Haerin rather than Huh Yunjin.

You were so stupid because you figured it out too late and today was suppose to be day you told her everything but it seems Haerin was the first one to beat you too it.

"Do you mean it?"

Haerin gazed up to meet your gaze, her cat-like eyes looking more lovely than ever. You nodded, stroked her hair, and returned to burying her face on your chest. Her behaviors made you laugh because they were so charming.

"I love you Y/N.."

She backed away, sneaking a quick kiss on your cheeks before whispering gently. Thinking you hadn't heard her, you bent down to kiss her forehead, making her blush even more.

"I love you too, My Laker Star Haerin. Hehe~"

You smiled wholeheartedly at her, just like Haerin did, despite her cheeks going red. Both of you were experiencing the joys of love as fate brought your hearts together.

As Yunjin looked down at the building's glass windows, she watched the guy she genuinely loved embracing a girl he deserved. Her heart ached to see you with someone else, but she knew you were the one known as "Right Person, Wrong Time." She smiled sadly as she shed one final tear staring at you.

"I hope you treat him right Haerin. Because he was once My Laker Star too."

.

.

.