#this is either before or after the event suit yourself

[porcelainseashore]

His Last Miracle - Qadir al-Asmai x Reader

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: My gift to @vampemoqueen as part of the VtM Secret Santa Writers 2024 event!

Another night, another accidental Embrace. Qadir had seen his share of poor, unfortunate souls like yourself in the thousands. But you were special. You would be his last miracle.

Content Warnings: Loss of agency, violence, implied/referenced abuse, obsession, death.

It was nothing short of a miracle how he got there before a certain Ms. Valerie Duval did, especially when it concerned you. You were fresh out of the bag, a youngling, new as they come. He had pulled your lips back to reveal your baby teeth, like a miniature doll. Fragile as porcelain, he could break you in two with his bare hands in an instant. But Valerie was a Scourge who desired to wipe out the Duskborn of New York City like the Second Coming. She had a flair for sniffing out the likes of you from miles away, and she was relentless.

Not tonight, however. Strange. Perhaps it was fate? he repeated this to the point of believing in it.

You were crouched over in the corner like a frightened animal while he gave the same boring speech prepared for every unsanctioned Embrace since the night he had stepped into the New World. Something about a mortal hobby he followed akin to the Penal Code. Baseball. The Mets. A three-strike system, honed to merciless perfection. He noticed how you listened, your eyes lost in his as you hung on his every word.

“Three strikes and you’re out, whelp,” he warned—or was it a murmur?—approaching you, eyes flashing, dangerous as they were seductive. He wedged you between his body and the plastered wall, palms pressed flat on either side of your head. “Do you understand?”

Tapping his foot impatiently, he saw your gaze drop to his lips and your breath quicken, matching the pace of his heartbeat if he had one. No, that wasn’t right. You were merely one of the many thousands he came across most nights in all his years of service, just a trifling and insignificant variation of the previous encounter. You weren’t—

“Yes, sir.”

A prey that submitted willingly. You didn’t even need to be told. His mouth lit up in a cruel smirk. “Very good, young one.”

He could have killed you on the spot, played God and passed swift judgment like any other fool parading around as the so-called Sheriff, but he did not. Prince Panhard always favored formalities, especially when there was a Thin-blood Primogen she could rub it in the face of. At least that was what he told himself as he ferried you back to the Art Hole.

On the way, you had asked for his name and he divulged it to you like a sworn secret through the rearview mirror. “Qadir,” he replied, his voice monotone. “That’s all you need to know.”

The rest of the ride took place in silence.

At your hearing, he observed you intently while you were met with disgust and disinterest by the other Kindred. It seemed as if you didn’t care what the Prince had to say as you stared back at him, hands twitching and biting your lip. He recognized the signs for what they were, after all, it wasn’t the first time a captive had taken a fancy to him. Regardless of his severity, he was as stereotypical as the Clan of the Rose brought forth. He plied himself with fashionable suits and expensive Swiss watches, groomed his locks and beard religiously each night, disguised like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

It was a sham. He was a sham. It mesmerized him how alive you felt, your blushing heat. If not for the tip-off, he believed he would never have known you were one of them—almost. When the verdict of “Final Death” was raised, something innate possessed him to fabricate the story he narrated before the Prince to delay your sentencing for just a bit longer. Was it the remaining scraps of what he so desperately tried to salvage as human? 

Mercy. 

The Prince raised an eyebrow. 

Mercy.

Although he would never admit it, he could not bear to see you perish that night. You were a miracle. You were his miracle. His salvation and hope. You reminded him of Qadir al-Asmai of Lucknow, not Qadir the Sheriff of New York. He brought you to the cell where you would spend the night, and the next, and the next, as long as you didn’t outlive your usefulness. A usefulness which he had invented and even the Council had fallen for. 

He remembered how you had cried upon hearing what he had done. Such is the wonder of human emotion, he thought. Soon, he will learn to cry too. The scene replayed itself like a continuous loop in his mind and he wished it would never end.

And so it began. When he checked on you the next evening, he found you on all fours, before lying prostrate on the dirt ground, as if praying to some unknown god.

“What is the meaning of this?” he questioned, more curious than irritated.

You glanced up at him with those pitiful, naive eyes, like a dog waiting for its owner and he felt something he had not felt for a very long time—a sense of joy. He provided you with fresh blood, which you lapped from his hands hungrily, and wiped the tears away from your grimy face.

“Thank you, sir.”

You were so polite, so precious; he promised to take care of you, on condition that you would do as you were told. Naturally, you agreed, eager as a pup to please. He pretended to coax information out of you on a recent case he was investigating in exchange for blood. It was all for show, a stunt to appease his superiors. Just the way the Camarilla liked it, and just the way his colonizers liked it back then too. But this thing you had with him… it was real, wasn’t it? You were teaching him to love again, beyond the blood-splattered tiles and mangled bones. He was falling for you just as you were falling for him.

Then, one night, you refused. He couldn’t fathom why, what caused the sudden change of heart. You stopped drinking the blood he offered, spat it in his face when he tried to feed you, starving yourself on purpose. 

“Don’t test my patience, whelp,” he growled, holding the base of your neck between his hands as he stroked a pointed nail along its length. You shivered and went limp. He gave a ghastly smile. “Good girl.”

However, it was only a temporary respite. He knew what was best for you—why wouldn’t you listen? You left him no choice, but to do what he had to do next. He plunged his teeth into you, his bite lingering as he tasted the sickness of your saccharine blood. Your eyes shut placidly like a serene angel, arms folding around him as he led you in a slow dance around the derelict room. When you came to, he was sure that you would love him even more than you did before.

“Drink,” he ordered. “Or you will never receive my Kiss again.”

Despite your withdrawal, you staunchly held your ground. His jaw tensed. Had he not been kind and merciful to your plight? Wasn’t this how one should love? But love was a distant memory; he had forgotten whether he had ever felt it at all. There were still hours to go before the break of dawn, but he left in a hurry, as if something had finally unnerved him, and did not return until several nights after.

By then, you were nearly catatonic. A thin film of milky white cast over your eyes. As you lay in his arms, he asked you quietly, “Tell me, what is it you want?”

He wanted you to pick him. To stop time and make him human again. But that answer never came. Just two simple words uttered from your dry, cracked lips, “Final Death.”

In a moment of clarity, he saw through the lies he told to everyone and to himself. The tears in your eyes had never been about gratitude for prolonging your life, they were pleading with him to extinguish it. He had treated you like an enslaved animal, attempting to bind you to his blood and will. Instead of the soft caresses he imagined, he had wrung your neck and forced your hand unto obedience, into submission. There was no love, only suffering and pain.

The grip on his sword tightened. Perhaps he was condemned to live out the rest of his undead days in a state of limbo, waiting for the inevitable, spectacular end, where his humanity would be so whittled down that he becomes a mindless wight. To grant your wish and lose you would be to damn his soul, but perhaps this was his greatest act of mercy yet. And that was a miracle in itself.

With a single swift stroke, his sword was unsheathed—elegant, ruthless, and compassionate. Your head slid off your body onto the floor. He took it gently in his hands, kissed your still warm lips for the very last time, etching every sensation to memory. Then, he let go, leaving your decomposing corpse in his wake.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[sleepyminty]

When u got possessed for so long u started to think weird shit too much ghost started to wary of u

[itsoutrageouss]

pt.1 pt.2 (can be read as a stand-alone)

Third follow up on the dynamic between you and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley after he sees you cry for the first time. He’s getting so fucking obsessed with you and this next mission does absolutely nothing to help that:

It was a classic, but one you’d never experienced yourself before now; a mission where you had to gain intel from someone at a high class event. Meaning you had to get dolled up with your mission partner. Guess who?

It had been forever since you’d worn a dress; this way or work didn’t give much opportunity for it. It had been so long that you only had one in your closet- but it was everything to you- a tiny part of the persons you’d had to store away when becoming part of a military task force. Hidden away in a box on the top of your closet at your barracks.

You smoothed it out, admiring it on its own for a moment before slipping it over you, tying the back so it dipped at your waist, giving you a sense of security at the slight pressure. Your hands ran over the dark green fabric that matched the emeralds in your ears and down along your cleavage, looking like crystal droplets over the taught skin of your collarbones.

Your hair had been neatly curled- cheeks rosy, eyelids shimmering and lips a muted mauve. It was very different from the tactical gear most operations called for and it felt naked to only have the gun at your inner thigh and the smallest piece that was draped over by your hair.

Your heart pounded like a war drum as you stepped into the entrance of the base, at the double doors that led to the parking lot.

You knew it would draw attention- you’d never looked anything like this since you joined the task force and you felt so self conscious that your knees nearly buckled, feet unsteady in the heels that hugged them. But you knew you looked good- repeated it to yourself because half of this was confidence.

And so did he. Simon was adjusting the cuffs of his suit with a grunt, annoyed at the feel of the tight button up trapped under the black habit jacket that bulged over his muscles. But when he turned around his hand fell away from his cuffs mindlessly, going lax at his sides. He hadn’t known the way his heart stuttered before. He hadn’t known what to expect but you- you were a sight for sore eyes.

It didn’t help him at all with how he struggled to decipher his feelings for you. After seeing you so vulnerable and human, crying on that concrete floor he thought that was as far as he could ever go. Then you had bandaged his knuckles, and let him cuddle you in the irrevocable silence on that couch. But this was another stepping stone: you in that dress.

He could see a confidence in you that he’d either never noticed or that was brought forth by the way you looked tonight. Which would be very valid in his opinion because he’d been looking at you without saying anything for a solid minute now.

You frowned, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers because you couldn’t read his expression at all.

“You should wear a suit more often,” you said, roving shamelessly over his hunky figure, looking even taller with the dark suit on, his thick thighs coming to their right. You wanted to kiss his knuckles again.

Kiss a lot of him, actually.

“Fuckin’ annoying” he grumbled and rolled his shoulders in the suit, the jacket creaking with the motion. It was his way of accepting the compliment without, and you both knew it. He wanted to compliment you too, but there was so much he wanted to say that absolutely nothing came out. And when he saw the shameless hunger in your eyes as you trailed the movements of his hands, he definitely couldn’t speak. Had you always looked at him like that? Or did these past weeks open gates for you too?

You gulped down the disappointment when he didn’t say anything after a long beat of opportunity, masking your expression quickly as your spine straightened, hands smoothing down the fabric along your hips. “The car is waiting” you say, silence unbearable as your heels click on the linoleum, walking into the moonlight lid parking lot.

You both go over the mission details in the car, but his eyes kept finding their way to your silly curls bouncing around your face, the light in the car shining off of your lips. He gritted his teeth.

“Where’s your gun?” He asked because he would never forget that the mission was so much more dangerous like this- despite the rest of the task force being on standby, you could both get hurt way easier in this attire- especially you. He could wear a bulletproof vest under his button up. You could not- and ghost had yelled at you to find something else to wear but you refused. This was your lucky dress.

Then you unconsciously did the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his goddamn life as you spread your thighs slightly in your seat, fingers grazing and pulling aside the satin material of the slit in your dress to reveal your bare thigh, gun strapped to the plush of your inner skin. He might’ve died, and you had no clue, simply pulling the dress back in place and looking over the blueprints one more time.

The air prickled at your skin and you tugged the shawl closer around your arms when his large hand slipped over the satin, landing on the bare skin on the small of your back. The contact was electric and you both stiffened, looking up at the adorned building ahead, checking your earpieces before walking up the shiny stairs.

Right before the staff opened the golden double doors for you, giving out your fake names, he leans down to the shell of your ear.

“You’re the most gorgeous fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen, love, I can’t focus.” He managed to grumble out just before nudging your lower back gently to start walking. His eyes immediately honed in on the people and the layout. But you felt frozen in place, eyes widening impossibly much at his singular, lethal sentence.

That he’d ever seen? Of everything in the entire world he’d ever seen? It rung around your skull, zapping all the way to your toes that curled inside the heels, a unusually giddy feeling wracking up and down your spine, making your hips sway a little more as you followed his guiding hand.

He could feel your warm skin under his palm, the way your muscles moved with every sway, and immense satisfaction coursed through him when he noticed the subtle change his compliment had caused.

Maybe tonight he would pretend- for the mission of course- that you really were his. Really give it his all- make up a story of how you met. Tell people he’s gonna propose. No no no what the fuck? He’s taking it way too far. The mission came first. The thrill of showing you off on his arm came second.

That’s what he said, until a woman commented on how lucky he was, both his and her eyes watching you as you stood next to one of your targets for intel, sipping a champagne glass and twirling your hair.

“I am. I really am.” He said, not noticing the woman had already left.

[captain-huggy-bear]

'You're blushing.'

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader (Crush level)

Warnings: Reader is described as visibly blushing (normally i'd avoid it, but for this idea I kinda had to, sorry!)

Summary: You're friends with Jack and Luke first, they decide to tease you good naturedly about your reaction to their older brother, Quinn.

Notes: I feel like Jack and Luke as friends would really work together to tease you, just very good natured but finding it hilarious. Basically acting like your annoying brothers.

An NHL charity event isn't something that 2 years ago you would have thought you'd ever be at, but then 2 years ago you didn't forsee yourself becoming friends with Jack and Luke Hughes, two pro-hockey players, after taking your students to meet the New Jersey Devils on a school trip.

Everyone who was anyone in the NHL was present, players from across the teams from both Canada and the US, coaches, WAGs and then you, because Jack and Luke refused to leave you behind in case you got bored without them. Their words, not yours. You couldn't even use work as an excuse because school holidays were in full swing.

So, here you found yourself, clutching a glass of something expensive, but awful tasting, that you quickly deposite on a side table the moment no one is looking, wearing your best dress (the one that never came out of your closet and had needed a really good steam to get the wrinkles out) and oogling their attractive older brother from across the room. The big brother you've had a crush on for at least a year...despite having met him a total of 5 times.

It wasn't your fault, really. Jack and Luke were pretty, so very pretty, but a little too young for you and treated you like an annoying sister, Quinn however? He was the right age, the right height, had the right hair and the few times you'd interacted had made you feel like a girl and not one of the guys. He was easy on the eyes and from the time you'd spent around him a genuinely nice guy, the type of person that having a crush on was easy. Especially, when you were rarely around him and didn't need to confront said feelings.

It's stupid though, a crush? In your mid-20s? It feels like something you should have grown out of, but apparently not. You think you've managed a good job at hiding it though, hiding the way your ears perk up whenever Jack or Luke mention Quinn, hiding the fact you watch every Canucks game even if you have to catch up late after work kicks out, marking piled high in front of you.

Across the room you watch as Jack and Luke hug their brother in greeting, big smiles wide on all three faces. They're all wearing their best suits, hair neatly trimmed, a shame...as you're rather fond of Quinn's longer hair, but he's still handsome either way.

Luke must mention you as he gestures in your direction and Quinn turns to look at you, smiling wide in your direction. You're not expecting it, certain you resemble a deer in headlights.

His wide smile does funny things to your heart and it's only made worse when he starts walking in your direction, Luke and Jack trailing behind, you're almost certain your heart is about to stop in your chest.

He stops just shy of you, looking like some sort of daydream and you're certain that you're not hiding your crush very well in that moment. Suddenly, you feel 10 years old again.

"Hey, long time no see," Quinn doesn't hesitate before wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek that has your face feeling incredibly warm. He pulls back, eyes giving you a slow once over from your head to your uncomfortable heels, "You look beautiful." There's a crinkle at his eyes that screams sincerity, that, combined with his soft smile only has you swallowing harder and trying to ignore the raised eyebrows of Jack and Luke over his shoulders.

"T.." You cough the lump from your throat, "Thank you, Quinn, it's nice to see you again"

It's not long before he's called away, once more pressing a kiss to your cheek on his way and you know you're beet red in the face without even looking at Jack or Luke. Their matching grins only confirm it and you internally groan when Jack throws an arm around your shoulders, smirking down at you.

“You’re blushing.”

"Shut up." You grind out, shoving his arm off your shoulder and crossing your arms even as your eyes continue to track Quinn across the room.

"You're seriously blushing because of Quinn?" Luke takes up the otherside of you grinning over the top of your head at his brother, even as Jack keeps digging at the topic. If your face was red before, you know it's probably bright enough to be seen from space now.

"Jack, in the name of all that is holy, if you do not shut the fuck up right now I am going to tell tiktok about that time that you tried to jump into my arms because of a mouse." You poke a harsh finger into his chest, but your threat seems to make very little impact, your friend just continues to grin at you like you've made his night.

"But, seriously? Quinn? Like, i'm right here,"

"You are a baby." You roll your eyes, turning back to find Quinn staring at the three of you from across the room. He's got the sort amused look that tells you he'll be asking his brothers all about this later, curious as to what had you make that face at Jack.

"I'm not that much younger than you!"

"Still a baby." You laugh simply because you all know Jack's joking. He's never once wanted to date you and you're fine with that. Your dynamic with the two younger Hughes brothers has always been entirely platonic and you like it that way.

"Does that mean I don't get a shot at all?" Luke chims in from besides you, arms slumped at his side in mock sadness that has you wrapping an arm around his waist to give him a side hug.

"Lukey, I love you, you get a shot just for being you." You grin up at him as Luke smugly waggles his eyebrows at his brother. It's all completely ridiculous and it reminds you that even when they're winding you up, you do in fact love the two of them.

"Oh, c'mon!" Jack's jaw drops like you've just told him that his first born child is the uglist child you've ever seen or something equally as offensive. From the corner of your eye, you can see that Quinn is still watching the three of you even as he talks to a group of journalists. It makes you nervous, hoping that he hasn't developed a talent for lip reading.

"Why are we even having this discussion? Neither of you want to date me and I don't want to date either of you! We firmly established that we're all in the friendzone here."

"It's the principle okay? I am the pretty one and you go for Quinn?"

You're quiet for a moment, eyes on your feet before you mumble out a quick, "I like his hair."

"I have good hair too." You roll your eyes at his retort, "So do I!" Luke ruffles his curls to show them off.

"I like his beard." That bit of scruff he always seems to grow as the season continues, the sort you're sure would scratch deliciously against your skin if he kissed you. Quinn gave off strong romantic book lead vibes with that sort of facial hair going on, a lumberjack or cowboy who saves the leading lady from hyperthermia or a bear or something.

"Okay...I'm...i'm working on that, give me some time, Jesus, woman!" You know he's only playing, but you also know Jack's genuinely curious as to when and how you developed a crush on his older brother. It's not like you'd ever expressed your interest in their brother before, not even suggesting he was cute in a passing comment.

"Look, I just...I think he's handsome that's all..." It's most certainly not all, but you're not about to wax poetic about their brother and give them more ammunition to tease you with than they already have.

"Well, if you're not marrying me or Luke, I guess the only way to add you to the family is to get Quinn to fall hoplessly in love with you." Jack claps his hands together, nodding his head like he's just come up with some sort of business proposal that benefits all parties rather than suggesting you marry his brother.

Luke looks over at Jack, nodding along with a little smirk, "I think we can manage that."

"Oh, definitely, Lukey Boy." Between them it's like looking at a pair of mischievious and naughty school boys.

"Please don't meddle, please leave it alone! I get crushes all the time, I really do not need you embarrassing me! We're adults, this is not the school playground!" You're practically begging them to leave it alone, mind already conjuring up a million and one ways in which they could embarrass you.

You're so focused on them that you don't see Quinn making his way over until he speaks from over your shoulder. He's eyeing his brothers like they might set off a stink bomb, arms crossed over his chest that only serves to make him look even broader than he already does in that jacket.

"Why do you two look like you're about to cause some trouble?"

"Us?" Jack starts, pointing at himself and then to Luke, wide innocent eyes fooling absolutely no one.

"Trouble?" Luke continues, a hand over his heart like Quinn had insulted his honour by suggesting such a thing.

"Quinny, would we ever do such a thing?"

There's a moment of silence before Quinn looks them both dead in the eyes and gives a confident, "Yeah."

Quinn turns to you, face softening into a look that screams that he's concerned his brothers are being dicks to you, it's pleasant and sweet and makes you feel warm inside, "You alright? These two idiots bothering you?" Both idiots shout a quick 'hey!' but your attention is solely focused on Quinn and the way his hair falls across his forehead when he tilts his head to look at you.

"Yes!" He chuckles at your insistant reply, hand reaching out to offer itself to you, "C'mere then," you grasp it without question and follow him off to the dance floor. Not thinking twice until you find yourself wrapped up in a slow dance with a guy you can barely look at without blushing. Feeling in over your head in the best sort of way.

From the corner of the room Jack turns to his younger brother with a smile, as they watch the you and Quinn inch closer and closer together on the dance floor. Your head eventually coming to rest on his shoulder as you sway back and forth.

"Y'know what, Lukey? Maybe we don't have to meddle at all..."

[runariya]

Crash Course in Love • 3

pairing: snowboard instructor!Jungkook x ex-gf!reader (feat. platonic OT6) genre: rom-com, Exes 2 Lovers, slow-burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: strong language, slow burn, angst, tension, bad communication skills, heartbreak, hangover, doubts, emotional rollercoaster, fight against nature, being stranded, crying, verbal fighting and screaming, explicit sexual content, bit of dry humping, fingering, scissoring, unprotected sex, breast play, hickeys, scratch marks, love bites, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 15.3k

a/n: i'm absolutely knackered now, completely worn out. BUT it was sooooo worth it lol hope y'all enjoy it to the fullest bc next update probably won't be until the new year...sooooo...have funnnn!

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

Day 4

“Fuck.”

You think you’ve woken up in hell—it must be—because, oh god, you feel like death. Your eyes are crusted shut, and you can’t feel your legs. But as you rub the sleep out of your eyes and prop yourself up on your elbows, you realise it’s just Namjoon lying across them, snoring away.

You try to take in the room, piecing together the hazy puzzle of last night. The party, the song, you running off only to drown yourself with Yoongi and Namjoon in alcohol, throwing your own little after-party. You remember crying, remember singing your heart out to sad love songs blaring through Dionysus. What a fucking mess you’ve become…

But after all that chaos, there’s only blackness. And seeing Yoongi and Namjoon still here with you in the suite, all of you fully dressed and reeking of alcohol, tells you enough. And as you groan, not just from the bottomless pit of stupidity, but from the pounding in your head, you let yourself collapse back onto your pillow.

You fight back another wave of tears, wishing the last 24 hours could just be erased, wishing you were back at home. You fumble blindly for your phone, finding it on the nightstand nearby.

2:56 p.m.

Just brilliant. Though, at least you’re spared from spending the whole day on the slopes. Not that you’d be able to walk straight with how you’re feeling, but a win’s a win.

You need to get up, though, so you start stirring both men awake. Yoongi’s not blocking you, but if you’re up, he has to be as well. Much to your surprise, both of them wake without protest, getting themselves into a sitting position on the bed, looking like zombies straight out of The Walking Dead. You reckon you look about the same.

“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbles as you begin massaging some blood back into your legs, which feel like they’re fighting for dear life.

“S’alright,” you croak out, unable to manage much more.

“Painkillers.” Yoongi just sits there, staring at his blanket, the rise and fall of his chest the only proof he’s still alive, though barely.

You and Namjoon both nod, but no one actually moves until, eventually, Namjoon rises—slowly, hands leaving the mattress only at the last second before he somehow straightens up and makes his way to the door, though it’s anything but a straight line.

You’re the second to get up, staggering into the bathroom to wash off everything clinging to you. You’re not sure if it’s just dried sweat or a bit of alcohol still on your skin, though you have a vague memory of Tae pouring something over your back. Either way, you’re in desperate need of a full shower to feel human again.

The only upside to this hangover is that your mind has finally shut up. Every bit of energy is focused on basic bodily functions, like breathing without throwing up and blinking your bloodshot eyes now and then. You’re not even fazed when Yoongi stumbles in, taking a piss that seems to go on forever; he clearly couldn’t give a fuck, and neither can you.

When you’ve finished rinsing your hair and are wrapped in a towel that’s too soft to absorb any actual moisture, you quietly switch places with Yoongi, both of you unintentionally making a point not to make eye contact.

You’re not entirely sure why you’re still here—not just in this town but on this entire trip. There’s no real drive left in you to give Jungkook closure, no fight in you at all, and definitely no desire to ever see him again.

So, you decide to get the hell out of here. Not right this second, no, your blood alcohol is likely still sky-high and will take a nosedive soon, taking you down with it, but tomorrow, you’re leaving. It’s the healthiest thing you could do, because frankly, you lost Jungkook years ago, and that realisation sobers you up more than anything else could. 

It doesn’t stir the same emotions it once did as you pull Jungkook’s old hoodie out of your luggage—or maybe you’re just too tired to care—as you tug the oversized black fabric over your head, the only comfortable thing you’d brought on this trip. Some leggings on, with your phone stuffed into the front pocket of the hoodie, you make your way to the main area, letting your eyes roam to maybe spot your missing phone case.

Jungkook’s already lounging in a single armchair, poking absently at the fire with an iron stick, his gaze tracking you as you move around the room. But you ignore him. It’s not like you’re being petty this time, and he can probably tell from your posture that you’re just not in the mood to interact at all.

You’re especially glad he doesn’t mention your—or rather, his—hoodie, and when you give up the search, realising the case isn’t lying around here either, you shuffle over to the sofa, collapsing onto it and immediately pulling out your phone. Scrolling through YouTube, you pull the hoodie’s hood down a bit further to block out Jungkook entirely, settling on a spa video promising a very satisfying blackhead extraction.

If your life’s this miserable, you’re at least going to give yourself this kind of satisfaction, even if it’s short-lived. And anyway, there are millions of similar videos waiting for you and your lonely ass. 

Namjoon emerges midway through your video, nudging your legs to make space for him. You shift, but only to let your legs settle in his lap as soon as he sits down.

“Here,” he offers, handing you two painkillers, which you take like they’re sweets, chewing them up so they might kick in faster. He pulls a disgusted face, but it quickly fades—probably can’t be bothered to waste any energy as well. 

“Jimin brought food,” Jungkook breaks the silence, still poking at the fire. “Should I get you some?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or Namjoon, but you answer anyway. “I’m good, thanks.”

Maybe he expected a different answer, as his stick pauses for a moment, but you couldn’t care less. The chance to talk things out has passed, along with your will. It’s on him now. You’ve seen and heard enough.

“Why did you leave the party so early?” he tries again.

“It was because of me, I just—”

You cut Namjoon off; he really doesn’t need to do this for you. “Stop lying, I wanted to leave, and Namjoon and Yoongi didn’t want me to be alone.”

“Why?”

You pause your video, turning to meet Jungkook’s eyes. He’s bouncing his leg and chewing on his lip ring again, but it’s not your problem if he’s anxious or whatever. “None of your business.”

Namjoon gives your knee a slight squeeze, and while Jungkook turns his attention back to the flames like you’re the one who’s hurt him, he can go fuck himself. You’re not dealing with him right now. Not when he’s got Hara pregnant and sings love songs for her. 

Yoongi enters at that moment, settling into the armchair beside Jungkook and just managing to catch the two painkillers Namjoon tosses his way.

Silence returns, and you restart your video, losing yourself in the meditative extractions.

“Can I get a haaaawyeah?!” Tae bursts into the hostel, bringing Hope and Hara with him. Three of the four present groan in agony at the sudden noise, and you’re one of them. Still, you shift to sit up, making room for them to join.

You’re not sure why Hara chooses to sit next to you, quietly handing over a takeaway box of food with that warm, familiar smile of hers—you know it’s got to be from Jin’s. 

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble, the bite you had a few minutes ago already feeling like it never had been there to begin with.

“Please, eat something. Your body needs it.”

She’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to even lift the lid, staring blankly at it as if it’ll somehow reveal yet another surprise you’re not ready for. You know it’s not Hara’s fault you’re feeling like this, or that Jungkook chose her, but right now, all you can feel is bitterness, and her kindness only multiplies it.

Almost unconsciously, you glance up and find Jungkook’s eyes fixed on you, his leg still bouncing lightly, clearly tuned out from the lively conversation between the other guys.

You’ve kept this empty space in your heart reserved for him for so long, never realising he’d never fill it again. You just don’t have the energy for this anymore, the will to keep playing his game where he pulls you back into his world only to remind you you’re no longer really part of it. Not properly.

You wonder if Jungkook even realises what he’s doing, if he has any clue about how his actions come across. Or maybe he’s just as stuck as you, caught up in his patterns and too blind to see beyond them. The care and worry in his eyes when he looks at you, when he notices you making poor choices for your health—maybe, you reason, it’s just because he doesn’t know how to be any other way and nothing more. 

But that’s the thing about Jungkook: he genuinely cares. And that’s why he’s going to be the best dad on this earth—just not to your children.

“I’m really not hungry.” You think you see Jungkook’s jaw tick just a bit, but he again chooses to say nothing, his gaze, though, never wavering from you.

“I didn’t mean to, but damn, that woman was something else,” Tae bursts, sprawled on the floor in front of you, accidentally nudging your knee as he laughs with the others.

“Who?” you ask, trying to tune into the conversation just to get away from the other. 

“That woman who was sitting by the bar all night. Tae pulled her,” Hope bursts out laughing, especially at your disgusted, shocked face.

“Was she any good?” Namjoon inquires, like it’s the most normal thing to ask about a one-night stand.

“What can I say? She taught me things I didn’t even know existed.”

Yep, that info’s enough to make you gag for real, and judging by Yoongi and Jungkook’s expressions, they’re feeling the same.

“Want some?” you offer Yoongi the box, hoping to steer the conversation away from…whatever this is. But he just shakes his head, clearly not ready to risk upsetting his stomach as well. 

He’s pale as it is, and you can see the colour drain from his already bloodshot eyes at the sight of food. Poor man. 

“Jungkook, you hungry?” Hara offers softly, and you can’t help but glance at him again. 

His bouncing leg stills the instant she speaks to him. And even though it’s true—Jungkook can eat like a bottomless pit, never saying no to food—you don’t really want to interact with him right now. But, some things haven’t changed at all it seems, like you not being able to say no when it comes to him. 

Jungkook looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes, as if to say just eat it yourself—he’d never, like all those years ago, take food from you when it’s clear you’re barely eating yourself. But you just can’t, and with that, you get up, lean over the small coffee table separating you both, and offer him the box with both hands, a small, shaky smile on your face.

Jungkook stands up too, reaching for the food between you. You think he’ll just take it, but his hands cover yours, brushing over them until they settle on the container, and then, finally, he takes it. It catches you off guard, not just because he touched you first and not the box, but because it was absolutely deliberate.

Why he did it, you don’t know, but all you can think about is getting away fast before all your bottled-up emotions explode in your face.

“Can…uh…can someone drive me to the nearest petrol station?” you ask, standing there rooted to the spot, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment as everyone looks up at you.

Jungkook’s half a mind to put the box back on the table and get up again, but Hope springs up from his spot beside Taehyung, fishing his keys from his pocket. “I’ve got you.”

“Thanks, I’ll just get ready.” You cast him a quick, grateful look and head to your room, eyes down.

Hope just saved you there, because if Jungkook had offered to drive, you don’t know what you’d have done. Sure, you want him to be happy—you’re not some heartless person who wishes bad things on people, especially those who are…were…close to you.

 But what about your happiness? Don’t you deserve to find peace too? To protect yourself? So yes, you’ll take every bit of help you can get, even if it’s just a lift to the petrol station.

You didn’t mean to startle so violently when you turned to close the suite door, but honestly, you hadn’t even heard Hara following you, moving soundlessly like a ghost.

“C…can I help you?” You’re gripping the door until your knuckles turn white under your sweater paws, the door not even fully open anymore.

“Can I come in?”

It’s like something out of a nightmare, knowing you can’t turn her away just because Hara’s never done anything to hurt you. You have to remind yourself again and again that she’s not the villain here, chanting it silently in your head, trying to drown out the hurt that won’t go away whenever you look at her.

So, you nod, opening the door a bit wider, then turn around to let her in and busy yourself with “looking” for your phone case, just so you don’t have to face her.

“Are you okay?”

Her words break through the sound of the bedding as you give it a shake, hoping your case might fall out, but of course it doesn’t. Just like the right answer isn’t coming to you now, not to her question.

Maybe you’re okay, as okay as you can be. Maybe you’re not. Either way, you’re definitely not making her your therapist—not when she’s involved in all this stupid mess. 

“Yeah, sure. Are you?”

“Yeah, the sickness finally went away. I just hope I start to show soon—it’s getting weird at this point.”

You move around the room, checking every corner, stopping only when you spot an edge of your phone case outside on the porch, half-buried in the snow beside the jacuzzi.

“How far along are you?”

“Seventeenth week…we’ll find out the gender soon.” There’s a subtle cheer in her voice that makes your heart soften for a moment.

It must be incredible to be expecting, especially to finally know the baby’s gender and go a bit mad with shopping. You’re sure you’d be the same, and Hara likely will be, too.

You glance her way, offering a small, warm smile before opening the door to the porch. “Got a feeling what it’ll be?”

Hara comes closer to the door as you step outside, staying in the warmth while leaning against the frame. “Yes? No? Maybe?” She laughs. “Some days I swear it’s a boy, and then others I’m convinced it’s a girl. Tomorrow’s the appointment, so…I hope mini-me reveals its gender and isn’t shy.”

You giggle, fishing the icy case out of the snow and brushing off the clinging flakes. As you come back inside, Hara moves aside, settling herself on the edge of the bed while you grab a discarded shirt of Yoongi’s to dry the case off.

“Hey…uh…I don’t quite know how to start this, but…I know you’re not doing alright.”

The glance you throw her way is wary rather than hostile, but still, you don’t want a pep talk from her.

“Please, just talk to each other.”

Biting your lip, you really don’t want to say anything. Yes, you probably should talk to Jungkook, but then again, maybe you shouldn’t. He’s had countless chances to say something, to open up if he had any thoughts at all—and he’s used none of them. Not even when you broke up with him. He stayed silent, like he is now.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk, not really, and you’re done waiting and being the one to start things.

“There’s nothing left to talk about. But I appreciate your concern.”

Hara just nods, staring down at the floor, rubbing her hands together between her knees while you pull on your coat and tuck your phone safely into its case.

“It’s a nice case. Did you paint it yourself?”

You glance at your phone, rubbing your thumb over the faded paint that was once so bright. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it after the breakup, even though it reminds you of everything good about your time with Jungkook. Maybe there’s some masochistic streak in you that wants to punish yourself for everything you did and didn’t do. Maybe it’s time to let go of all the memories that keep pulling you back to a time that’s long gone.

“No.” You sigh, tucking it away in your coat pocket with your purse and heading to the door. You pause with your hand on the handle, checking to see if Hara’s following, which she is. She’s right behind you again, and this time, you just let out a startled scream internally, hoping you don’t flinch too visibly.

Opening the door, you let her pass first, just to keep her in your sight this time, but as soon as you’re near the entrance to the main area, she stops, raising a hand. You give her a puzzled look, but she only points to one of her ears, so you lean in, trying to make out what’s being said.

First, you catch the voices of Taehyung and Namjoon, Taehyung’s voice too loud and distinct not to notice. But when you listen a bit harder, you pick up Hope and Jungkook having a different conversation, probably a little further from the others.

“I know! I know you’re a good driver. Just…”

“Just? C’mon, what’s going on with you, C?”

“Just… take care of her, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re acting like I’m some boy who’s just got his licence and can’t be trusted—”

The rustling of your coat drowns out the rest of their conversation as you step into the room, deciding not to eavesdrop any longer. You glance around briefly, and of course, Jungkook’s eyes find yours again, but you quickly turn towards Yoongi, resting your hands on his shoulders from behind where he’s still slouched on the one-seater. He wraps his hand around your wrist, his thumb gently brushing over your pulse.

“Why was my case out in the snow?” you murmur into his ear, which earns a lazy laugh from him. He peeks over his shoulder at you, his voice still raspy from his hangover as he murmurs back.

“You thought you could yeet it away and be done with it.”

Your cheeks go warm again; drunk-you is really ridiculous in every possible way. You’re just grateful it was only Namjoon and Yoongi who saw your breakdown, and no one else.

“Right.”

“Stay safe, yeah?”

He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze, and when your eyes meet again, even though his are still glassy from last night’s antics, there’s that quiet care in them only real family can have. 

“I will. Thanks for being there for me, Yoongs.” You press a quick kiss to his head and give him a brief squeeze around his shoulders, only for him to dramatically fake his own demise.

Straightening up, you meet Hope’s eyes, give him a quick nod, and head towards the door. Jungkook moves with the two of you, holding the door open without taking his eyes off you. His gaze is so intense that you can’t keep eye contact, mumbling a quiet, hurried “thanks” and “bye” as you follow Hope to his car.

You wouldn’t have thought Hope would drive a brand-new car, especially a vibrant red one. You wonder if an equipment rental shop really makes that much of a profit or if everyone in this town is just batshit rich. At least you’ll be safe—much safer than you’d be with Tony.

“So, how long’s the drive?” you ask, taking in the car’s interior while buckling up in the passenger seat. You notice the soft leather under your bum and the chrome trim around the touchscreen on the console.

“Maybe twenty or thirty minutes, depends on whether the roads are clear or still covered in snow.”

You hum in acknowledgment, tucking your hands under your thighs—not only because they’re still cold from the short walk outside, but also to avoid the urge to touch anything and risk breaking something you’d never be able to replace.

The car’s rolling down the steep hill you came from a few days ago in no time, and Hope’s both hands are steady on the wheel, which helps you relax in your seat. He’s definitely a good driver, like Yoongi, Jungkook, or your dad—the kind you can actually relax around without fearing for your life.

“So…would you be a kind soul and tell me what you’re all talking about in that group chat, especially about me?”

Of course you had to ask—why wouldn’t you, now that you’re alone with someone who’s clearly in on the whole scheme?

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno…maybe because of Namjoon.”

“Oh, I’m not scared of him.” Hope laughs heartily, but his eyes don’t stray from the dark, snow-covered road ahead.

“Sooo…?”

“So, you should just talk to C. That’s what we’re all talking about.”

“Wow, wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“So why’re you asking if that’s not the answer you wanted?”

You fall silent.

“Listen. You and C are both hurting. And the only way forward is for you both to learn how to communicate properly, aka talk to each other.”

“There’s really nothing left to talk about.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s clearly moved on, no?”

Like, duh.

“Has he now?”

Duh?…

“Yeah, with Hara…and the baby on its way.”

Were you wrong all this time? It can’t be.

“Oh, boy…”

“Don’t ‘oh boy’ me.”

“Why do you think he’s with Hara?”

You’re trying not to show how hard it is to think clearly in your state, but the time it takes you to respond says it all. “It’s obvious.”

“Is it? Because it sounds like you’re seeing things how you want to, not how they actually are.”

“Rude.”

“It’s true.”

“You’re really forward for someone I barely know.”

“We’re not strangers, __.” Hope side-eyes you pointedly, making you scoot a tiny bit deeper into your seat.

“Basically, we are.”

“No, we’re not friends yet, but we’re not strangers either.”

So what does this mean for you and Jungkook? He’s not exactly a friend anymore, but he’s not a stranger either. Or…maybe he is. God, your brain feels like it’s about to explode any minute now.

“People change, Hope. Jungkook’s changed.”

Hope lets a short silence settle between you, his fingers tapping softly against the leather wheel as if he’s thinking about what to say next. Only now do you realise there’s no sound from the engine, and you clock that he’s driving an electric car—even though he lives in the mountains, in the cold.

“Have you?”

You’re half-tempted to just say yes, but is that really true? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ve matured a bit, but not enough to feel like a different person. What you do know for sure is that any growth you might have had stopped the moment you left Jungkook. You’ve been so caught up in trying to heal and be someone you’re not that you haven’t really evolved into the person you could have been.

Anything really—maybe a better person, but somehow still the same you. So, what have you become in the last few years? Are you the same? Or not quite?

“Not sure.”

Hope just nods, not as if he’s simply acknowledging what you said, but as if he already knew your answer. It’s uncanny how much talking to him reminds you of Yoongi, both of them having that same no-bullshit approach.

“Listen, I’m not here to play mediator,” yep, definitely like Yoongi, “nor are the others. You need to talk to him, get things sorted before it’s too late.”

“What if it’s already too late?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re so positive.” You whine pathetically. 

“And you’re a chronic pessimist.” He mimics you. 

“I’m just cautious.” You pull your hands from under your thighs and throw them in the air, more to get your point across than anything.

“No, you’re scared of what might never happen.”

Ouch. But he’s not…not right.

“I’m not. I’m doing snowboarding now, aren’t I?”

“So why are we heading to the nearest petrol station if you’re meant to be snowboarding all week?”

You shut your mouth and slide your hands back under your thighs, as if that might help you disappear. Maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought, and not only Hope but everyone else—including Jungkook—has seen right through you. Is that why Hara wanted to talk to you earlier? Urging you to finally talk to Jungkook?

“Gotcha,” Hope giggles slightly, though when he sees your sad pout, he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze before returning his hand to the wheel.

“Alright, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” Okay, maybe not exactly like Yoongi. “But from what I’ve seen and heard, you liked snowboarding. And I’d say you probably enjoyed everything else you’ve done before, too.” He glances over at you. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

You just give a noncommittal shrug.

“You need to trust yourself and your capabilities a bit more. Start having faith in the positive outcomes, not just the negative ones, yeah? You’ll never be able to live without fear if you overthink everything…especially things with Jungkook.”

Your pout deepens, a light sheen of tears coating your lashes, which you tell yourself are just from the hangover crashing down on you now, not from facing the uncomfortable truth of your very persona. 

“I know it’s hard, ___. But sometimes thinking the worst makes it real, even though the outcome could’ve been different if you’d just had a bit more faith.”

“Are you talking about snowboarding or Jungkook?”

“Both.” He giggles again, and you can’t help but join in, sniffing your nose a little.

When just then another small town and the petrol station come into view, you straighten up in your seat, realising you’d been slouching more and more throughout the drive.

Even though you’re not looking forward to stepping outside into the cold, you’re glad for a bit of a cooldown, just to ease your exhaustion.

Hope parks his car right next to the petrol pump, and as soon as he turns it off, you both get out and head to the boot where two big empty canisters are waiting.

“Here, I’ll go to the one right behind this one.” He offers you one of the canisters, and while you take it, you’re still confused.

“I only need one, though.”

He’s already unscrewed his, pumping petrol as he leans to the side to look at you.

“Yeah, this one’s for me.”

You’re still confused, but you start filling your canister anyway.

“Isn’t your car electric?”

“Yeah, but I need emergency petrol for the generator in case there’s an outage and the baby’s coming.”

You freeze. Is Hope…? Oh god, you were so wrong all this time. Relief floods through you, so intense that tears spring to your eyes. Jungkook’s not the baby daddy.

“You’re Hara’s baby daddy?” you squeak.

“Gosh, no!”

And now you think you might throw up, the tears shifting back to the heartbreak of yesterday.

“Areum, my wife, she’s seven months pregnant. You missed her yesterday with your epic escape.”

“Oh. Uh, congratulations.”

But you only hear a snort from behind the pump.

Not wanting to fill the canister completely, you settle on half, afraid you might not have enough left in your bank account. You’re not exactly broke, but you’re worried your employer hasn’t transferred your pay on time. Again.

“I’m off to pay,” you mumble as you pass Hope and head into the small, warm station, where a young teenager plagued with acne stands behind the counter, his eyes barely lifting from his phone throughout your whole exchange.

“Your card’s declined, miss.”

The remaining colour drains from your face at his words. This really can’t be happening.

“Could you…could you try again, please?”

The teenager just rolls his eyes, and if you weren’t so mortified, you’d probably give him some shit for being so rude. But again, the familiar sound of your card being declined fills the little station, and when he hands your card back, you just mumble, “Just a second, please,” before stepping to the far corner by the cooling systems and getting your phone out.

And sure enough, your banking app shows you’re completely drained. Fuck. So there’s only one option left, then.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“Yo,” Yoongi grumbles, and you’re pretty sure you can hear Jungkook’s panicked voice in the background, asking what’s happened.

“I need your help,” you whisper, glancing over at the teenager to check if he can hear, but he’s already engrossed in his phone again.

“What do you need?”

“I’m short on cash. I can’t pay—”

“Why?”

Yoongi’s tone isn’t accusatory in the slightest, just genuinely surprised. Hope comes into the station now too, cocking a brow at you, which you try to ease with a shaky smile.

“My employer’s late with my pay. Again. And the trip and, uh…it all just…”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says, flat, almost monotone, but you know he feels awful now, realising you’re actually struggling, not just joking around. It’s not his fault though; you never talk about money, and maybe he’s apologising not just because he let you pay for everything, but because you haven’t had these conversations before.

“S’alright. Can you just transfer some money quickly so I can—”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

You hear him sigh—one that says, Don’t make this a thing now. Hope’s already paid for his, waiting by the door with his hands in his pockets, scanning some nearby magazines.

Knowing not to waste any more time, you hang up, open your banking app again, and refresh it every few seconds until there it is: a transfer of ten fucking thousand dollars from Yoongi, with the note, Should’ve told me sooner.

You make a mental note to give him a piece of your mind regarding the sum later as you pay for the petrol, and dash out of the station, dragging Hope with you to escape the embarrassment as soon as possible. 

“Slow down, will you?”

You let go of his arm once you’re by his car, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration as you mumble, “Sorry. God, I’m such a mess.”

“Come on, we’ll talk in the car. I just wanna get home.”

And you do, silently, closing your eyes as the car winds through the woods back the way you came.

You know Hope doesn’t want to pressure you, but you want to talk about it, just because bottling it up any longer would fry your brain.

“My employer still hasn’t transferred my pay,” you mumble. “I had to call Yoongi to borrow money.”

Hope lets out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head slowly as he listens.

“Again, as in this isn’t the first time?”

“Yeah, as in he owes me several thousand dollars by now.”

“Thousands?”

You tap your knuckle against the window, doing a quick mental tally of how much has piled up since you started working for this guy. “About fifty. Maybe a bit more.”

“No. Fucking. Way.” Hope glances over at you with each word, then back to the road. “___, that’s insane. Fifty thousand?! Why haven’t you sued him? Or quit?”

“I…” Yeah, good question. “I actually don’t know.”

It’s not like it’s a brilliant job worth hanging on to, but working from home has its perks, and finding another role in your field? That’s practically impossible without connections, which you definitely don’t have, seeing as you work from home and have done for years.

“You’re an accountant, yeah?”

“How do you know?” you ask, stopping your gentle tapping against the window to look over at his profile. 

“Oh, who d’you think told me?” He gives you a side-eye, looking slightly annoyed, and you just nod. “Areum’s an accountant too. She works for PwC, all remote. They’re looking for someone to cover her on maternity leave, and she gets to pick who fills in for her, soooo…”

“Sooo…?”

“Woman, I’m not spelling it out for you. You’re not that thick.”

Ouch. “Hey! Stop being so rude to me.”

“Then stop acting daft when you’re not.”

God, you want to strangle him. No wonder he gets along so well with Yoongi. You thought he was just this little ray of sunshine with that stupid bright laugh, but he’s feisty as hell.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble, knowing decisions like this aren’t made right now, especially as the painkillers wear off and your mind’s about to shut down along with your eyelids.

Eventually, sleep takes over, and if you’re honest, you don’t bother fighting it.

“___, wake up.” Hope’s voice and the gentle push of his hand against your shoulder rouse you not long after. And even though sleeping, even just a bit, should have done you some good, you feel worse after a fifteen-minute nap.

Reluctantly, you straighten in your seat, trying to wake up properly, and smack your lips to get the awful taste off your tongue, but it’s no use. You’ll need to brush your teeth as soon as you’re in the suite—there’s no way around it.

“Thanks for driving me,” you rasp, glancing out of the windscreen to see Jungkook hopping from one foot to the other in the cold, his breath rising in small clouds in front of him. “What’s he doing outside?”

“He’s waiting for you.”

“Oh.”

It’s a mystery why Jungkook would do that, seeing as you’re clearly not on good terms. You’ve been trading jabs and whatnot with every interaction, so the fact that he’s not fed up by now is really baffling.

“I’m heading straight home if that’s okay.”

“Oh. Sure, yes, of course, sorry.” You unbuckle your seatbelt, knowing you shouldn’t overstay your welcome, especially as Hope is snickering again. “Thanks again and goodnight.”

“Goodnight. And…talk to him.”

Well, you don’t really have a choice now. Especially when, after closing the passenger door, you walk to the boot to get your half-empty canister, only to find Jungkook already beside you.

“Here, let me help.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes this time, which feels strange after he spent all afternoon staring at you.

“I’ve got this.”

You heft the canister out of the boot and start walking straight to Tony to fill him up, letting the canister rest by your legs, you wave Hope off as he drives away, then clear the side of Tony of snow.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook stands beside you, arms crossed, chest puffed out. He looks intimidating—hotly so—but you’re still pissed and very much not in the mood for a chat.

“What does it look like?”

He just shrugs with a smirk, and as you finish clearing the snow, you realise you’ve done the wrong side of Tony. 

How embarrassing.

“Don’t say anything.”

And he doesn’t, aside from a quiet snicker as he follows you to the other side, where you finally start clearing the right bit of snow. This time, you find the cap and pull out your car keys to open it.

Ignoring your wishes, Jungkook picks up the canister and starts pouring the petrol into the car, biting his lip piercings again.

“Talk,” you snap, wanting to get this over with—whatever it is that’s bothering him so much he’s biting his lip bloody.

Jungkook glances briefly at you, and while you’ve seen that sad expression on him countless times, it still stings.

“Why did you leave?”

You sigh, glance towards the hostel, and look back at him. “When? When I broke up with you? On the slope yesterday? From the party? Or to the petrol station?”

Alright, it sounded cooler in your head, but you’re now realising you might have a bit of a tendency to run off. Oops.

“All of them, I guess.” He muses, shutting the cap and screwing the canister lid back on as he turns to you fully.

“Jungkook, that’s a conversation I’m not having with you right now.”

“And when would be the best time for it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe not outside, not in the middle of the night, not when I’m batshit hungover, and especially not when you’ve built a new life for yourself.”

That last bit wasn’t really what you wanted to say, but it slipped out anyway, the perfect proof that it’s indeed not the best time. 

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair for you to treat me like this, Jungkook. I’m not doing this anymore.”

You turn while watching him run a hand through his hair, then stomp through the deep snow towards the hostel to stop yourself freezing out here.

“Stop running away!”

“I’m not running away. I’m going to bed. You should too.”

Jungkook catches the door at the last second and steps into Dionysus right behind you.

“You are running away.”

You turn to face him sharply, causing him to nearly bulldoze into you, but he catches himself in time, stepping back a bit with his hands on his hips, still clutching the canister in his reddened hand.

“Why did you need petrol for Tony, who’s been out of it for days? Why now?”

You purse your lips, mirroring his stance instinctively, staring each other down. You’re stubborn, but so is he, and you’re not backing down. He wants to start a fight? See who breaks first? See if you’re really running away from him? Well, you’ll prove him wrong.

“Safety. Caution. Responsibility. Take your pick.”

There’s a familiar glint in his eyes—the one that says he knows you’re bullshitting him. God, you’ve missed this. Missed him.

“So, not fleeing the scene, hm?”

“Not fleeing the scene.”

And you’re not. Change of plans: you’re staying. You’ll stay, and you’ll whoop his ass by becoming the best snowboarder on the planet.

Jungkook just nods, and you nod back.

Usually, this would be the moment he’d tackle you and fuck the truth out of you in no time. And though you can vividly picture it, you need to keep your distance. So before the tension builds too much, before Jungkook becomes too much, you stop nodding and let your arms drop to your sides.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

He mirrors your stance, and though his eyes dim with that usual sadness, you refuse to see it as longing. Because why would he?

“Goodnight, ___.”

You nod, and while you can’t quite tear yourself away from his gaze, you eventually turn and head up to your suite, finding Yoongi already silently and fast asleep, you can’t help but to leave a tiny gap in the door, just enough to watch as Jungkook disappears into his own room.

Day 5

You feel good.

No, scratch that—you feel absolutely pumped, energised, and oh-so-ready for the day. There’s a wild fire blazing through your veins, just waiting to be unleashed, and you’re absolutely down for it.

Sitting alone in the dining room after that little talk with Yoongi about the sum he transferred to your bank account, only to be met with an eye roll in response, you’re busy preparing the most protein-packed breakfast Namjoon’s buffet has on offer. You’ll definitely need it—not just because your body’s craving nutrients, but because your brain needs to be at its best so you can finally beat Jungkook at his own game.

No, not with his petty remarks and actions, but by getting your answers with carefully placed, strategically even, questions so he doesn’t even realise you’re grilling him. You’re brilliant, so of course you can pull this off. The sulky victim era of ___ is over—here comes the new, improved you.

Though, if you’re honest, you know there’s a pretty decent chance that Jungkook might catch on to your plan. He’s always been good at that, always been just as brilliant as you. But his competitive side usually has you beat by the end of the day. But not today. Today, you’re determined to win.

Especially when the man himself strolls in, looking sinfully good. His hair’s damp, falling messily over his forehead and eyes, while his thin white shirt hangs loosely off his shoulders, clinging slightly to his skin where he didn’t dry off properly.

“Morning, Kook,” you chirp, practically singing it, intentionally calling him by the nickname you lovingly gave him all those years ago.

Jungkook slows his steps, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed. The confusion’s painted all across his face exactly as you’d hoped. Excellent.

“Morning.” He stops at your table, glancing at the empty chairs next to you and opposite you, and when he takes the one right beside you, you’re doing a little celebratory dance on the inside.

“Did you sleep well, Kook?” He eyes you as he gets his plate ready, and while he answers, you take a small bite of your food, your overly cheerful grin firmly in place.

“Uh, yeah, did you?”

“Of course! Snuggly kept me company all night.”

The confusion in Jungkook’s eyes deepens, and you’d give anything to know what’s running through his head right now. You keep your face just as innocent and cheerful as possible, though it’s getting harder by the second.

“So, what’ve you been up to these past five months?” If your math’s right, Hara’s now a little over four months along. So, if Jungkook was around back then, you’ve got your answer.

“Five months?” He raises an eyebrow again, biting into the sandwich he’s just thrown together. There’s far more ham than bread—probably more to keep his hands clean than for actual taste.

“Yeah, where’ve you all been, then?”

“Uh,” Jungkook chews, blinking at you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure you out. “I’ve been to Bangkok, Hawaii, and, uh… before that, I was here for a few months.”

No. Fucking. Way. So all those mixed signals, not only from Jungkook but all his friends too, weren’t so mixed after all.

“This town’s pretty small. Is there anything exciting to do off-season?”

“Well, Hara had a huge birthday celebration. So there was that.”

“Hara’s birthday’s in August?”

“Yeah, why?”

So he gave her a baby for her birthday. How pathetic it makes you feel, realising you’ve been too busy being still his to fall for someone new all this time. But you don’t let the heartbreak show this time. You swallow it down because shutting down won’t help you now.

“Just asking.”

Jungkook just nods again, still contemplating your words, trying to read your motives like he always does, though you’re as blank as can be beneath your smile. It’s not that you’ve lost your determination to get through snowboarding—no, you’re way too competitive and stubborn to back down now. Still, you kind of wish you were as drunk as you’d been two days ago.

The upside of being fully sober again is that you feel fantastic. Physically, anyway. The downside is that your brain won’t shut up.

You vividly remember the night you ended things, the exhaustion, the desperation in your every word as you tried to explain yourself to him. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him; you did and you still do, maybe even more than you should. But back then, you’d grown tired of always feeling like you weren’t enough, of feeling like you were someone he didn’t really need.

You’d always been the one to soothe your doubts on your own, to make excuses for him and his choices, to tell yourself it was just a phase, that he’d eventually grow out of it—that he’d grow out of it for you. Not that he’d never do anything risky again, but just enough for him to see that some things are too dangerous to try.

Losing him was completely your fault, you know that, and even though he’s going to be a dad—even if it’s not your child—you’d crawl back to him in a heartbeat if there were any chance. Not that you’d ever be a homewrecker; that’s something you’d never do, and you’ll respect any relationship on earth as it is. But if he’s only going to be a father, if he’s only co-parenting with Hara and they’re not together, you’d try to make it work somehow.

Or maybe you’re just delusional, thinking you’d be okay with him having a kid that’s not yours. Because deep down, the thought of him being with someone else after you—even if you weren’t together anymore—makes you want to throw up. Not just because picturing it is one of your worst nightmares, but because all the love declarations he made, and will probably make again in that scenario, would be empty in their truest form. At least in your eyes. 

There’s nothing you can do about it; it’s not like you’re some grandma who thinks virginity before marriage is a must. But if he was with you and says he’d want to be with you again, there’s no chance if he had someone else in between.

Jungkook sniffs beside you, and you’re not exactly proud that, since learning he’s staying here at the hostel too, you’ve kept spare napkins nearby, just like the good old days, and you’re not proud as you hand him one with a small smile, still chewing, knowing his rhinitis is worst in the morning.

“Thanks,” he’s smiling, though there’s still that look of doubt in his eyes, as if he’s still trying to work out what you’re up to. “So, how about you?”

You’ve half a mind to exaggerate again, but you know you’ll need to save your energy today, especially since you’re spending the whole day with Jungkook. So you stick to the truth. “Nothing really. Mostly work, and a few activities I’ve tried.”

“It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“You doing all that stuff.”

Jungkook doesn’t look as accusatory as he did the first day; this time, he actually looks…sad.

“Didn’t you want me that way?” You keep your tone light, friendly even, but deep down, that old pettiness rises to the surface.

“No.” The word slips from his lips without a moment’s hesitation, his sad eyes fixed on yours, and suddenly, you can’t breathe. It just doesn’t make sense.

“I…why?”

He slowly swallows his last bite and reaches for his coffee, just to toy with the rim of the mug. Then he lifts his gaze to meet yours, boring into your irises as if to tell you more than he’s actually saying. “That’s not you.”

You just stare at him, trying to understand why he’d want you to change all those years ago, only to now tell you, indirectly, he doesn’t like the person he’d pushed you to become. No words form in your brain, again too overwhelmed by it all, so you just nod, because quite honestly, he’s right. It’s not who you are, even if some of the less riskier activities, like snowboarding, turned out to be more fun than you’d expected.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to handle the silence well as you quietly finish your meal, as his leg starts bouncing under the table again, occasionally brushing against yours. You’re sure he doesn’t even notice it, but you do and while you think about shifting your leg slightly away, that faint touch of his somehow soothes the intense longing you have for him.

How many times you’ve thought about calling him, only to remind yourself he was the one who let you go without a word, is beyond counting now. Trying to count would be like trying to reach infinity without breaking down as the despair catches up to you and you simply can’t do either. 

You need, with all your might, to pull your mind out of this endless void and focus on the good. You’re able to have a normal conversation with Jungkook. He’s fine. You’re fine. And if you can make it through these next two weeks, you tell yourself that you’ll be fine too, even if it’s without him. Because that countdown in your head has shifted—from thinking you’ve got time to work things out, to savouring these last moments with him as much as possible, hoping to make memories you can hold onto as fondly as the ones you made all those years ago.

“So, today’s blue slope day?”

Jungkook nods with a smirk, eyes still on his cup, clearly lost in thought. “Yeah. You ready?”

“Sure. I was born ready.”

The snort that escapes him mirrors your own, letting the sadness fade into that playful light in his eyes you’ve always adored when he finally looks back up to you. 

“Then let’s head out, shall we?”

“Yes, sir!” You salute playfully, downing the rest of your or rather his iced Americano—sneakily poured into a regular mug—in one go and standing as soon as Jungkook does.

It doesn’t take long for you both to get fully geared up and leave the hostel, Jungkook closing the usual distance between you by walking much closer than he has on any of the previous days, though you welcome it this time. 

“Give me your board.” Jungkook stretches out his free hand towards you when you’re just a few feet away from Dionysos.

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can. But you don’t have to.”

Wondering whether you’re about to be stubborn again, you decide to let him help you. It’s a nice gesture, and knowing his strength—which has clearly grown over the last few years—it’s no bother for him to carry your snowboard too. So you hand it to him, mumbling a small, grateful “thanks” and fall into step with him, the rustling of your gear and the dull thud of your boots the only sounds breaking the otherwise silent streets.

“It’s such a lovely day.” You marvel at the first rays of sunlight shining down, making the snow-covered streets steam ever so slightly, looking straight out of a fantasy.

The town’s not fully awake yet; a few people are setting up their displays outside, greeting you both with warm smiles and friendly faces. It’s easy being here, so welcoming when you ignore the chaos that’s crashed down on you since you arrived.

You’d like to imagine living here, spending the rest of your life in this place with Jungkook, befriending his friends too, all in some alternate universe. You daydream about a winter wedding, teaching your kids how to build a snowman, and everything else.

It would be nice, it would be perfect. Because in that universe, you’d still be with Jungkook, and you’d be not only happy but fulfilled.

“It is, the slopes should be perfect too.”

A small group of kindergarteners crosses your path just before the slopes, and as your gaze drifts from them to the shop windows behind, you catch the reflection of you and Jungkook side by side. He’s looking at the kids, full of adoration, with that same endearing smile you fell in love with all those years ago.

His hair’s just as shiny and healthy, his eyes sparkling in that familiar way. You’ve always known how much Jungkook wants a family—he always has, just as you always did. It’s one of the reasons you connected so quickly. His values and hopes for the future aligned so perfectly with yours that falling for him and picturing a life together was almost inevitable.

You knew back then that having different hobbies wasn’t the most important thing in a relationship, that differences in those areas wouldn’t decide its downfall. But somehow, you both let those differences take centre stage.

It wasn’t just poor communication that damaged things; you lost sight of what truly mattered, letting the good become tainted with doubt, trust begin to crack, and your hearts bleed in ways they never should have.

Standing there now, side by side, you realise that everything that happened, the way you both handled things, was so unnecessarily foolish. You wish you’d made different choices. You look perfect together, like one of those couples you see and just know they’re meant to be, like they’re soulmates, like they’re fated.

Jungkook’s eyes lift up, catching yours in the window, and his smile grows just a bit wider. There’s still that adoration there—or is it just nostalgia? Or maybe it’s the inner peace he feels, knowing he’ll soon have a child of his own? You’re not sure, and you’re afraid to let yourself think too deeply about it. Because, honestly, if it’s anything but adoration, you’d spiral so much, so irrevocably, that you might just break all over again.

Switching your board to his other hand, where he’s already holding his own, he lifts his now free arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Your head doesn’t even reach his eyes, and your shoulder aligns perfectly with his arm, like you’re a puzzle piece fitting into him. You can’t help the broad smile that breaks over your face when he says, “I’m glad you’re here.”

You turn away from the window, tilting your head up to look into his beautiful brown eyes, taking in this small, pure moment that you’ll lock away in the deepest parts of your heart and cherish for the rest of your life. “Me too.”

Simple moments like these with Jungkook have always been so beautiful. It’s always been like this, just the two of you in a bubble where nothing else matters. The ache in your heart should ease in moments like this, but instead, it grows, the longing building until it’s nearly unbearable.

How perfect it would feel to kiss him now, how your heart and soul would sing if he kissed you back. The realisation—the overwhelming certainty—that he truly was the one for you hits you like an avalanche, burying you so deeply you’ll never find a way out.

Still, you turn your face away, and he lets you go.

“Let’s get it.” Jungkook cheers, and you echo his words, because you don’t know what else to say, walking side by side to the lift. Thankfully, this time without any annoying interruptions from his fangirls.

The first ride up in the ski gondola is equal parts terrifying and beautiful. The trees below look like miniature toys, and the mountain peaks seem too stunning to be real, like a picture painted by an artist. The gondola is empty except for the two of you, Jungkook sitting across from you, both of you gazing outside. But every now and then, you can’t help glancing at his reflection.

Jungkook talks the entire way up, going over everything you should know about snowboarding by now. His calm voice, his solid presence right in front of you, and his patient review of the basics settle the last of your nerves, along with Hope’s words, still ringing loudly in your mind.

Fear is faith in the negative.

And you don’t want to live like that again—not now, and not when it’s just snowboarding. You trust your own abilities, and you trust Jungkook to keep you safe, like he always has. Well, aside from that one camping incident—but you’ll turn a blind eye to that for now. You have to, because one lapse in his judgement all those years ago shouldn’t undo everything else he’s proven to you.

The morning is spent making descent after descent, each one becoming easier and more fun, especially with Jungkook staying close. You manage to fall less and less, and when you do, he’s always right there, reaching out to help you back on your feet.

And while you’re laughing and joking like old times, it feels as if no time has passed at all.

Just before lunch, you both find yourselves back at the gondola, though this time it’s a different one.

“There’s this restaurant way up there.” Jungkook points into the distance, and you squint, trying to follow his finger, but the sun is too bright to make out exactly where he’s pointing. “The food’s amazing, and we’ll be able to take a way longer run down. It’ll build your stamina and get you ready for the harder slopes tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” You smile at him, excited not only for the food but also for the chance to push yourself a bit more.

When you step into the gondola with a few others, it’s so packed that you have to squeeze in beside Jungkook, pressing against his side. With his broad shoulders and your thick coat, there’s not much room and after a few minutes, Jungkook shifts and lifts his arm, draping it over your shoulder to give you both a bit more space.

You frown. Even though it’s more comfortable this way, you don’t like it at all. If he’s with Hara, this is crossing boundaries left and right. You know that if you were still together and he did this with another woman, it’d be a dealbreaker.

The gesture sours your mood instantly, letting your thoughts spiral in a way that has you dangerously close to snapping at him. But you hold back. You won’t start a scene now, not here; you’ll wait until you’re at the restaurant and talk things through.

When you reach the top and leave the gondola, heading toward the small restaurant by the lift, Jungkook keeps his hand resting lightly on your back.

It’s ironic, really. You left because you wanted him to find happiness, to be with someone who wouldn’t bring conflict, someone he wouldn’t feel the need to change. And here he is, supposedly happy, yet acting like you’re still his, clinging to old habits like they’re the only things he has left with you. 

Maybe that’s the saddest part of all. He’s got everything he once told you he wanted, yet he’s still holding onto pieces of the past, unable to let them go. And maybe he’ll never fully move on, just like you haven’t, even if he thinks he has. But that’s not something you can fix. You tried—more than once—to help him keep his distance, to let go of whatever still kept him wounded. Even if it wasn’t the perfect approach, pretending to be with Yoongi, you thought it might help him move on. But he has to handle that himself now; you’re done being the one to guide him there.

You deserve peace, too. You deserve to be able to look back on your time together without feeling unresolved tension. If that means keeping your distance, letting him live his life with Hara without stepping in, then so be it. You’re done making excuses for him, done justifying his behaviour to yourself. He’s made his choices, back then and now too, and now it’s time for you to make yours.

You take a deep breath, letting it all settle within you as you step into the restaurant. The hurt, the sadness, the longing—sure, it’s all still there, and maybe it always will be. But now, it’s just that: memories. Moments you once cherished, now filed away in a part of your heart that no longer needs to cling so tightly. Or at least, that’s what you hope.

As you sit down across from him, letting go bit by bit, you realise that maybe this is what closure should feel like. Hurtful, and not freeing at all. 

“You’re kinda touchy.” 

Jungkook looks up from his menu, running the tip of his tongue over his lip piercing. “I always am.”

Your lips press into a firm line, shoulders tensing even more. Jungkook’s eyes dart over you, and he realises too late that your mood has shifted. As he catches on, his nervous habits start to surface in an instant. He fumbles with his menu, his leg bouncing so hard that the tablecloth shifts slightly with each movement.

“Doesn’t it feel wrong to you?” You ask, your tone so accusatory it even startles you.

Jungkook gulps, actually gulps, and you feel the urge to laugh or maybe storm off altogether.

“No?” He sounds uncertain, though there’s a strange conviction in his voice, even with his nerves. “Does it bother you?”

“Yes.”

You stare each other down, Jungkook nodding but tilting his head slightly, eyebrows drawn. “Is it because of Yoongi?”

Should you come clean and tell him you’re not dating Yoongi, that he’s just your cousin? But you can’t see the point. It wouldn’t change anything now, you’re sure of that. Though you’re not sure if the snort and shake of your head is more because of how absurd it all is, or if it’s meant to answer his question. Either way, it fits. And as Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching in a steady rhythm, you don’t say anything more.

The tension between you feels like it’s growing and the silence between you both is almost suffocating you. You try to distract yourself by looking at the scenery outside the window, but it’s no use.

“I never wanted to do all those things,” you mumble, as if you can somehow lift a bit of the weight off your chest. “But I felt so…so unworthy…so empty. I needed to do it, even if I hated most of it.”

The waiter sets down your plates and drinks, wishing you a pleasant meal. Still, you don’t look up at Jungkook, maybe out of embarrassment, maybe because you just can’t. Instead, you stare at your food, forcing yourself to eat, even if it’s only a little.

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice is gentle, and you feel his gaze burning onto your face, though you try to ignore it. “Not for someone else, at least.”

Is he talking about himself? Or does he think you did it all for Yoongi? Either way, he’s right, though those words would have made more difference if he’d said them years ago.

“Maybe you’re right.”

It’s unusual to see Jungkook eating so slowly, and it’s not like you to keep so quiet, either. It’s not that you can’t handle silence, but sharing a meal like this without any connection feels so pointless.

“Was it easy?” Jungkook eventually asks, and your eyes involuntarily snap up to him.

“What was?”

“Moving on so fast…”

Sometimes, looking at Jungkook like you do now, you marvel at how much he’s matured. His features have lost that softness, his smooth skin now showing faint lines from laughter and time you weren’t there to share.

You’d always imagined growing old with him, and even though it hasn’t been that long, your heart aches for all the time lost.

The faint, bluish shadows under his eyes, something he didn’t even have during his finals, make him look not just tired, but drained off life. You can only hope it’s not because of you.

“I never did, so I can’t say.”

You both go back to eating, letting silence settle again as you try to process it all. Maybe you need a whiteboard, or even a list, something to help you make sense of it all, thinking you’ll definitely do that later, once you’re back at the hostel tonight. 

More than half your plate is still full, but you can’t seem to eat any more. As you set your cutlery down and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you notice Jungkook’s already finished his meal.

“You should eat more.”

“I’m full. I’ll just take it to go.”

And after Jungkook sighs and nods, you do just that, quickly insisting you’ll pay for your own meal, refusing to let him cover it for you.

Finally back outside, the sky has shifted, like your mood, from sunny and clear to dark, with low-hanging, heavy clouds.

“That’s odd,” Jungkook mutters, fishing his phone out and typing quickly. “Forecast didn’t mention a downpour.”

“What should we do?” Your nerves flare, body tingling and palms starting to sweat as that familiar panic creeps in, the kind that takes over any time things veer off-plan.

Jungkook’s eyes dart over his screen, only adding to your unease.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath and puts his phone away. “So, uh, there’s a thunder cell that’s come up out of nowhere, and there’s a warning for a severe snowstorm. But it’s all good. We still have time.”

Just then, the first big snowflakes start falling from the clouds, and the wind picks up. As you look up at the sky, your voice trembles, “Jungkook?”

“Alright, okay, maybe we don’t have as much time as I thought. We’re going to head down this way quickly, but safely.” He points toward a fork in the path where you can see a sign with a blue dot in one direction and a black one in the other—the black meaning it’s the most difficult and dangerous run there is.

“Okay.” You don’t sound entirely convinced, partly because, while you believe in your skills, you know that in these weather conditions, even the best skills won’t count for much.

“Strap on your board. We need to go.”

And you follow his instructions because, at this point, there’s no other option. The wind has picked up dramatically by the time you straighten up again, and you have to strain every muscle to stay upright against its force.

You’re terrified, and Jungkook’s focused, hurried pace isn’t doing much to settle your nerves.

“You’re leading, so I can keep my eyes on you.” 

You nod, shifting your weight forward to start descending, but keeping control of the board proves not just difficult, but almost impossible. Your vision blurs with the flurry of snowflakes, even through your goggles, you can barely make out the slope or see the fork ahead.

“To the right!” you hear Jungkook shout from behind, his voice frantic to its core. But as you pick up speed, the wind shoves you beyond the limit of what you can handle, pushing you towards the left, dangerously close to the black run.

“To the right, ___!”

You try, you really do, but you can’t seem to manage it. Like a leaf in a gale, you’re pulled in the direction you don’t want to go, helpless to stop it. Lungs burning with each short breath, you think you scream the moment you realise it’s too late, skidding down the steep, black slope.

You try to brake, just like Jungkook taught you, but your knees are weak, your muscles not trained enough to regain control.

Jungkook rushes up beside you, and even though you’re in full survival mode, his presence brings you a tiny sliver of reassurance, even if it’s just for a while. 

“You’re doing good, keep going!”

And you do, tears streaming down under your scarf. The storm keeps pushing you off course, pulling you again and again in directions you don’t want to go. But Jungkook’s right there, sticking close beside you, trying to block out some of the wind’s blasts and guiding you as best as he can.

It feels like an eternity—fighting against nature, fighting to stay upright, fighting the fear building stronger and stronger in your chest. Somehow, even though you left the marked slope ages ago, heading somewhere unknown and unsure if it’ll lead you to safety, you spot a small, abandoned-looking hut in the distance.

“Try to stop!” Jungkook yells, his voice barely reaching you through the howling wind.

“Now?”

“Now!”

You manage to stop, though clumsily, falling hard onto your bum, every muscle aching so painfully you’re barely able to move. Jungkook ditches his board in seconds, crawling over to help you with yours as the frozen clips stubbornly resist coming loose.

“You good?” He glances briefly at your face, breath visible in short puffs matching yours, his lips chapped and slightly split.

You nod, though you’re still trembling, trying to steady yourself as adrenaline surges through you without much mercy. 

Jungkook gets up with your board in hand, offering his free hand to you in a heartbeat and pulling you up effortlessly. After he picks up his own board, jointing yours, he clasps your hand with his free one and bolts towards the hut, dragging you along with him. 

Thankfully, or rather miraculously, the hut’s indeed abandoned and open. And while Jungkook pushes you inside first, letting the boards clatter onto the wooden floor as he leans against the door, both of you are panting and gasping for air, needing this break more than anything. 

The hut’s not really windproof, small gaps in the wooden walls still letting the cold wind whistle inside.

“Seriously? What the hell were you thinking?!” He rips his helmet off and throws it to the boards on the ground.

You try to straighten yourself, though the ache’s nearly too much. “I… I tried. I… it…”

“You just never listen, do you? I told you to turn right back there, but of course, you went your own way. Always have, always will.”

The storm outside’s picked up even more now, and the cold has seeped into your bones, though you still fold your arms, doing your best to keep your voice steady despite the burn in your lungs. “Oh, please, Jungkook. Don’t act like I’m the only one who doesn’t listen. You’ve got selective hearing when it suits you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a gloved hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Selective hearing? I spent years trying to tell you things, but you were always too stubborn to actually listen.”

“Right, yeah, I’m the stubborn one,” you snap right back. “You still can’t even talk to me unless it’s about some bullshit like snowboarding.”

“Oh, as if you’re any better.”

“I am! You didn’t even say one word before I left!” you explode, ripping off your helmet too, followed by your gloves, yeeting them across the hut.

“Oh, fuck off, ___! I wanted to, but clearly, you couldn’t wait to fuck Yoongi as soon as you got rid off me!”

“Yoongi’s my cousin, Jungkook. Family. But I wouldn’t expect you to know that, since you barely know anything about my life anymore.”

Jungkook’s face falls at that, and you can clearly see how his whole world view crumbles in his eyes, leaving nothing behind but a hollow sadness you’ve never seen before. Though you’re sad too, you’re hollow too, and so you continue, “Don’t pin this on me when I never moved on, when you were the one fucking Hara and giving her a baby.”

His unfocused eyes snap to you, lips still parted as he breathes, “I never slept with her. She’s Jin’s wife.”

You feel like you’re falling, falling so hard and fast you can’t stop. The tears that coat your eyes are nothing compared to the agonising realisation ripping you open. All those years, even all this hurt you’ve been experiencing these last few days, were unfounded.

If you weren’t this close to Jungkook, you’d think his red nose was just from the cold, but the silver lining his eyes carry shows just how broken you both are, what you did to yourselves without even realising it in the first place. 

“You moved on,” you press out, fighting the sob that threatens to spill.

“I haven’t.”

How foolish all the assumptions were, how foolish of him to assume just as much. How utterly foolish that you both lost the ability to talk to each other long before your relationship ended.

But maybe it had to come to this for you to learn what it’s like to be separated, to learn how to communicate… but have you really? You reckon you haven’t, not given how things went down. Maybe it’s too late, just as Hope warned you, though a small, fragile part in you clings to the delusion that things might still turn out right.

“Let’s… let’s call for help.” You turn, unable to keep looking at Jungkook, and you’re sure he needs time to process the bomb that’s just dropped.

“Yeah,” he’s taking out his phone again, though the breath he lets out is nothing short of concerning. “My phone’s dead. How about yours?”

By now you’ve sat down on the small, bare bed, as standing any longer would have had you fainting by this point. While you rummage through your inner coat pocket to pull out your old beaten-up phone, Jungkook stomps over with his snow-covered boots and sits down beside you, leaving enough space between you that it feels like miles.

Lighting up the screen, you see your phone’s battery miraculously still well over 90%, but there’s absolutely no signal. “Nope, no signal. We’re stranded.”

Just as you’re about to put your phone back, Jungkook stops you with his voice. “You still got the case?”

You pause, looking over at him, only to meet hopeful eyes you can’t quite place.

“Uh, yeah. You clearly got rid of yours though.”

You hate sounding so bitter, but it is what it is. Years of feeling the way you did can’t be undone with one revelation.

“I lost it… my phone, too, when I was in the Caribbean shortly after we…”

You hum and nod because what else is there to do?

“Why did you keep it?”

Your eyes stray from your phone, where you’re running your thumb over one of Jungkook’s doodles on the case like it always does, to him, though he’s not looking at you this time, just fiddling with his gloves in his lap.

“I can’t get rid of memories. You should know that.”

“Even if they’re bad?” He turns his head to you, though his eyes are fixed on your phone. The way he’s slouching is so unlike him, and it hurts to see what you’ve done to him.

“They aren’t bad.”

Jungkook nods a few times, as if he’s trying to cement your words in his mind, rewriting everything he thought was real but never was.

Eventually, Jungkook stands up and walks over to a small closet, pulling open the doors to see what’s inside.

“No way.” He breathes out a laugh, and you crane your neck to look past his broad shoulders, though it’s no use.

When he turns, arms full of vacuum bags stuffed with blankets and pillows, you feel like you might scream in delight. Especially when Jungkook rips them open beside you and a waft of freshly washed fabric hits you.

“That’s like hitting the jackpot.” You look up at him, your grin as wide as his as he just laughs. “Can you light the fireplace too?”

Jungkook furrows his brows as he looks around the hut, likely because he hadn’t spotted it until now. But as soon as he clocks it, along with the stack of dried wood beside it, he’s off in a flash, inspecting the chimney and everything else.

Meanwhile, you gather all the bedding and spread it out on the bed, purposefully ignoring the fact that there’s only this one bed in the hut and not even a couch. It shouldn’t be a big deal—you’ve done more than sleep in the same bed as Jungkook before, and you’re both clearly single, so there’s nothing your conscience can protest about.

Still, time has passed, and you’ve clearly drifted apart more than you would’ve liked. It’s an unusual situation you’re in, an emergency really, and you’ll have to adjust to it without reading too much into it.

“Got a lighter on you?”

You pull it out of your pocket, leaving Yoongi’s cigarettes in your pocket that you nicked this morning alongside before leaving, and toss the lighter his way which he catches effortlessly with one hand, lighting up the kindling he’s set, framed by a few larger sticks of wood.

Jungkook watches the fire intently, and soon enough the hut’s heating up, allowing you to take off your coat. Not wanting to keep your boots on any longer—by now, they’ve cut off all circulation in your feet—you pull them off as well, then crawl onto the bed, settling against the headboard under the layers of blankets.

You’re absolutely knackered at this point, and as you check the time on your phone, you realise it’s already past dinnertime.

“You can join me, you know?” you smile as Jungkook turns around, muttering an “okay” and starting to peel off his gear too, though you don’t miss the flush creeping up to his ears.

How endearing he can still be.

The bed’s clearly not meant for two—especially not when Jungkook’s become this buff. He’d probably struggle to fit on his own, let alone with someone else. And though you’re fairly petite next to him, you’re both squished together, personal space nonexistent. Still, it’s better than freezing to death outside.

“I’m so tired,” you yawn.

“I’m so hungry.”

The pout on Jungkook’s face makes you giggle; it’s just so him. Without thinking, you lean over him to fetch the food from your coat. Only when you settle back beside him do you notice how stiff he’s gone.

You don’t comment on it, just hand him the leftovers, which he reluctantly takes, though this time he doesn’t engulf your hands like he did yesterday. Not that you’d admit it, but you’re a bit sad he didn’t do it again.

“You hungry too? It’s your food.”

“I’m good, Jungkook, please just eat.”

You’re starting to read him again, just a bit less hazy than it was the last few days. So before he can start arguing with you, those sad boba eyes pleading for you to eat when you’re genuinely not hungry, you lay your hand over his arm, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m not hungry, promise.”

With that, Jungkook starts to eat and you lean back, slumping more into the blankets as he eats in silence, your eyes growing heavy with each passing minute. 

“You can sleep if you want.” Jungkook gently pulls the blanket higher over your shoulder as you lie down fully, your head nearly resting against his hip.

“I’m still cold,” you mumble sleepily, though there’s no chance you’ll really fall asleep while you’re still shivering like this. The storm’s really taken it out of you.

Jungkook shifts, and when you open your eyes, you realise he’s finished eating and is lying down facing you. “Turn around.”

Lying beside him like this, faces just inches apart, is something you never thought would happen again. And while it’s hard to look away from him—the slope of his nose, the Cupid’s bow of his lips making them almost too inviting—you fight against the blankets draped over you both and turn around. Jungkook slips an arm around your waist without much care, pulling you fully against him until there’s no space left between you.

Heart racing like a hummingbird’s wings, you try to relax into his hold, but the thin layer of fabric separating you makes it feel as though you’re bare. You’d seen the contours of his body when he stripped off his gear, the black thermal shirt and pants clinging to his muscles like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. But feeling his solid body against yours like this, after so long, leaves your head spinning in circles you can’t seem to stop.

You haven’t noticed how your hips press back against his crotch, haven’t noticed the way your body instinctively moves against his until Jungkook’s breath hits your ear.

“Sorry,” you breathe, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to stop. His large hand, which had been resting on the mattress beside you, slides up along your stomach, stopping just before cupping your breast from below, and you know you’ve stepped through a door that should’ve been left closed.

Heat rises within you, making you shiver with something far more pleasant than the cold. You need more of him, more of his touch, and your hand slips from beneath the blankets, reaching back to tangle in the hair at the back of his head, willing yourself to just feel and nothing more. 

His quick breaths ghost across the part of your neck that’s bare, just enough to spark more want not only in your heart but your cunt too. You tug gently at his hair, urging him down, igniting a fire you know won’t be put out easily.

Before his hand fully cups your breast, he pulls you even tighter against him, hot lips kissing and sucking at your skin as you press yourself back, trying to ease the ache between your legs against his growing cock.

The low moans slipping from Jungkook’s throat are music to your ears, and the realisation that he likely sang that song not for Hara, but for you, sends another wave of arousal out of your cunt.

“Jungkook…” you rasp, basking in his touch, but as soon as his name leaves your lips, he pulls back.

Thinking you’ve done something wrong, you turn your head, only to see him tugging off the last of his clothes. Relieved and more turned on than you’ve ever been, you strip off your own gear, leaving the blanket draped over you. It’s been years, your body’s changed, and while you know it shouldn’t matter, you still hope he doesn’t notice.

In a blink, he’s back, resuming where he left off, though now it’s his warm, smooth skin against yours. The ridges of his abdomen press along your back, and the feel of his cock—hard and oh so hot—against the cheeks of your ass is pure bliss.

You turn your head, trying to catch his gaze, maybe even hoping for a kiss, but when you catch sight of the familiar chain around his neck, it stops you in your tracks.

Jungkook pauses too, his eyes questioning, but as soon as he realises what you’re looking at, he gives you a lazy smirk, his hand cupping your face to turn you towards him and with it your whole body. 

You expect him to kiss you now, hungrily like he always did, but instead, he brushes his lips along your cheek, your neck, shifting to settle between your legs while the cool metal of the chain’s grazing your tits with every shift of his body.

“I don’t have a condom. I could…eat you out.”

His thigh pressing against you doesn’t lessen the ache, but you remember the one scare you had together, that time you thought you might be pregnant not long after you’d started dating. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t have wanted it, but you’d both been so young. Even now, the thought makes your heart skip, but not as violently as it used to. You’d be ready and willing to take the risk, though, would he? 

“I’m clean, on the pill.”

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your neck as you press your thigh gently against his cock, needing to give something back.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you. So clean.”

Is he serious? The thought hits you hard, and though you know he never lied to you before, you still can’t help but pull back, needing to see his face.

“You haven’t?”

“No.” His voice is barely a whisper, and the same love you remember shines in his eyes, making you tear up.

“Me too.”

“Fuck.” He returns to your neck, his fingers tracing your lines until they find your weeping cunt, slipping between your lips to spread your juices in gentle, familiar strokes as he preps you, every touch an echo of the love that maybe never faded.

The first stretch of his middle finger inside you is nothing short of insane, drawing you higher with a single stroke than any toy has managed in years. The way your cunt clenches around him seems to drive Jungkook on even more as he pumps with precise motions, soon adding his ring finger, bringing you dangerously close to euphoria.

Jungkook’s free hand roams from your neck to your tits, back and forth, squeezing, mapping you out like he forgot how you felt like, though finally resting on your jaw as he nestles his head between your shoulder and neck, leaving soft love bites in his wake.

It’s when he picks up the pace, the base of his palm hitting your clit relentlessly with each thrust, that you come undone, your orgasm flooding over his hand as he continues, determined to not stop just yet. 

A muffled whine of your name slips from his lips, softer than you’ve ever heard, and while you long to hear him call your pet name like he used to, it only amplifies the fullness in your heart for him.

Jungkook keeps his fingers inside you, now scissoring them to stretch you further as you cling to his back, not caring if you leave angry marks. 

“Think you can take it?”

“Yes,” you mewl, not caring if you couldn’t. You’ll take him, you need him, need to feel as if none of those years apart ever happened.

Once again, you think he might finally kiss you, but instead, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your damp forehead. You momentarily frown, but it’s forgotten the second his cock aligns with your still sobbing cunt, dragging up and down to coat his entire length and even his tight balls.

The sight of Jungkook when he finally pushes in is nothing short of mesmerising. He’s so perfectly sculpted, every muscle cord defined, and with his piercings and tattoo sleeve, he looks like a fantasy you never dared dreaming of. 

You’ve always had a weak spot for tattoos, but seeing them inked across Jungkook’s skin? That’s your ultimate downfall. A glorious downfall, as the burn of his thick length pushing deep inside you sends you reeling, until he’s so far in that you can’t tell where he starts and you end.

“Oh my god,” you choke out, overwhelmed by everything Jungkook is—and everything he’s become.

He’s unusually silent, though you barely notice, not when he begins to rock his hips, leisurely sliding his massive cock in and out, low grunts and moans escaping him as his gaze locks onto yours and not dares to stray. 

Jungkook leans back, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, sweat forming in small beads along the ridges of his chest and abs, dripping down despite the cold. His nipples are hard, and your mouth waters with the urge to suck on them. But seeing his own mouth slightly parted, breaths quickening in time with the rhythm of his hips, you’re sure he’s thinking the same, drawn to your own nipples, standing proud on the jiggling flesh of your chest. 

And while you wish you were the flicker of firelight dancing across his skin, you’re not far behind, as his hands find their way from your hips to your tits, caressing them like he always did, giving you everything and far more. You need something to ground yourself, a way to keep from shattering under the emotions running wild in your mind, intensified with every thrust Jungkook drives into your core. So, you grip his wrists, not to stop him, but to urge him on—to make him pinch harder.

Maybe you need the bite of it, maybe you want him to not just take away the ache, but be the reason you remember this night years from now.

“Jungkook, I’m so close, oh my god.”

The grunt that escapes him reverberates through you, nearly pushing you over the edge on its own, but he slows, setting a gentler pace as he shifts so his mouth can worship you from your breasts to your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys across your delicate skin.

You know the two of you will be marked by the end of the night, and right now, that’s all you want. You want to leave yourself etched into his skin, to reclaim your place not only in his heart but in every part of him.

In this moment, it’s like you’re finally whole—not just because Jungkook fills you completely, but because he completes you. He always has, and while you’ve both been damned by what happened before, it feels like redemption might be close.

“You’re…” Jungkook murmurs against your skin, his warm breath searing into you, though you need him to finish his sentence, need to hear it.

But as you cradle his head in your hands and he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes are hooded, yet glistening, and your throat tightens at the sight too.

Face to face, you share the same breath, as if you share one heart, your small hands gripping his face as if you never want to let go, his hands cradling your small head with the tenderness that once meant everything. It’s as though you feel what he’s trying to say—but somehow, you don’t.

There’s still a wall between you, still something unsaid screaming in the silence that just can’t seem to go away, and you’re sure he feels it too. He feels it as your orgasm builds, feels it in the desperation of his own thrusts, in the matching, agonising, wordless ache in both your eyes, feels it when you both shatter together in a burst of all colours and stars in existence. 

And then, all that’s left is pain.

He hasn’t kissed you, and you didn’t kiss him either.

And as he pulls his now-softening length from your still-pulsing cunt and reaches for a tissue from his trousers off the floor to help you clean up, he silently gets dressed. 

Dresses as if he’s ashamed, dressed as if he regrets it, dressed as if you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

So you do the same, slipping into your clothes before lying back down, shifting as close to the wall as possible, facing away from him to give him some peace where none is found. 

The tears falling silently onto the pillow should only be from the shivering that’s returned, a byproduct of the cold that momentarily disappeared but is now back as if you were never meant to feel warm again.

Finally, exhaustion sweeps over you. Physically. Mentally. And everything in between. 

And as Jungkook lies down too, once more pulling you close and wrapping you in the warmth you crave more than you can bear to admit, your eyes fall shut almost effortlessly.

Maybe sleeping it all away will make it better, forgotten as a dream that never was.

Forgotten, like everything good that once was but now isn’t anymore.

Forgotten, like the tear you feel slide down the back of your neck, disappearing into the fabric of your shirt where all your sins and failures lie buried.

01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

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[moonstruckme]

Oh my god congrats on 7k!!! So so SO deserved in every way imaginable

Could I request apple pie prompt #28: dark lipstick smeared on a cheek with Sirius???

Thank you lovely!!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 731 words

It’s embarrassing, how much time you spend in front of the mirror before Sirius arrives. You fix and fiddle until you’re nearly unrecognizable to yourself, until your face is a word you’ve said too many times and it’s lost all meaning. You started out with more eyeshadow than you have on now, then you’d wiped that off and tried out a lip technique you’d seen in a tutorial online. You’ve used one makeup wipe already, front and back and all folded up to get to the clean corners, and you’re honestly still not sure if what you’ve ended up with is decent or if you just can’t look at it properly anymore. You hope your dress is enough to distract Sirius if it’s horrid. 

You’re seriously considering wiping it all off and starting over again when the doorbell rings. Your heels click on the floor as you hurry to answer it. 

Sirius looks surprised when you open the door, as if he hadn’t expected to find you on the other side. “Hi,” he says. 

You smile anxiously. “Hi.” 

He’s wearing a suit, which you’d been expecting but bowls you over nonetheless. Sirius manages to make it look both formal and relaxed, his dark hair tucked behind his ear on one side and his jacket unbuttoned suavely. 

Remus claims it isn’t a big deal, this banquet his university is having, but it is. It is for Remus, because he’s receiving an award, but also (privately, selfishly) for you, because this is the first thing you’ve gone to with Sirius as his date. You’ve been on dates, and you’ve already met his friends, which he says was the important thing, but part of you is savoring the privilege of this. That he’d asked you to Remus’ event as his date. 

“Hi,” Sirius says again. He blinks at you, slow and hard. 

Shit. 

“It’s too much, right?” You take a step back from the door, hand itching for a makeup wipe. “I can take it off quickly, we’ll still have time to make it. I’ll do something simpler.” 

“No,” he says, “don’t change it, it’s…it’s nice.” 

You cringe at the hesitation in his tone. You catch your reflection in the mirror by the door, panicked and overdone, as you turn back towards the bathroom. “I promise it won’t take long. I don’t know what I was thinking, the lips are way too much.” 

Sirius’ fingers wrap harshly around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t you fucking touch the lips,” he says. 

His eyes catch yours in the mirror. You’re frozen. Once it’s clear you’re not reaching for the wipe anymore, Sirius loosens his grip, fingers skimming up to your shoulder and toying absently with the strap of your dress. He looks almost caught in a daze. 

“Fuck.” He expels a breath. “I wish I could kiss you without fucking them up.” Your lips part in surprise, and Sirius closes his eyes like he can’t look at it. He compromises by dropping his lips to your shoulder. He kisses the bare skin reverently. “You look stunning.” 

Your heart hiccups. “Really?” 

You realize the second after you’ve asked that it sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, but Sirius doesn’t seem to care either way. He meets your gaze in the mirror again. 

“Very,” he says. His brows bunch as if in distress. “You’re killing me, gorgeous. I can’t decide whether to go to Remus’ thing and show you off or keep you here to myself.” 

You laugh. It dislodges some of your nerves. “We’re definitely going to Remus’ thing,” you say to him. “He’s winning an award.” 

“He’ll win other awards, won’t he? He’s brainy.” 

“I also didn’t get dressed up like this to stay in.” 

“Much sounder reasoning,” Sirius admits. He sighs dramatically. “Okay, but do me a favor and give me a smacker so those pretentious shits know we’re together, yeah?” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “A smacker?” 

“A kiss, doll.” 

“I know what you mean,” you laugh. “You want me to get lipstick on your face right before this posh dinner?” 

“If it looks half as good on me as it does on you, sweetheart,” he gives a winsome crack of a smile, “no one will have a bad thing to say about it.” 

You decide it’s not worth arguing with him. Your dark lipstick looks very pretty on his cheek all evening.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE

Here comes another angsty fluffy one-shot request by one of my readers. Featuring everyone's fav doctor, Zayne. Enjoy the story! Warnings: Angst but yes to Comfort

"How can you expect me to do my damn job but also expect me not to be hurt?" You gritted your teeth, eyes shooting daggers into Zayne's side profile. He seemed unbothered by you raising your voice slightly, either he is used to it, or he expected it. Or both.

"Then I would suggest you to quit your job." His words were finalised, no variations in tone or anything. Just a statement, a sentence with a full stop. Your eyes welled up with tears. How could he not understand? To at least give you the benefit of the doubt that accidents would happen in your line of job, but you would do your best to minimise it?

"I won't." You walked over to him and you noticed his head turned slightly to face you. "And I am done with you." You grabbed your bag off of his desk and you darted off towards the front door. Zayne got off of his chair to hold you back but before he could grab your hand, you threw him your statement. "I do not wish to see you ever again. Have a good life."

Zayne was out at a charity event hosted by Akso Hospital, to raise funds for the several orphanages at Linkon City. As usual, he was expected to give a speech in front of the crowd, but instead of being the lead cardiac surgeon for Akso, he shall be giving his speech as one of the biggest donors for this event.

But as of now, his time has yet to come, so he stood at one of the cocktail tables, watching the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Although he is one of the best cardiac surgeons, he was not known to be the friendliest amongst his colleagues so generally, not many people would go up and strike a conversation with him.

He finds his mind wandering, floating from what would be a good post-event dessert to what diagnosis he have yet to complete to you. It has been 6 months since the both of you had contacted one another. Zayne however, had tried to call you after you had left but to no avail. And surprisingly, you blocked him so he had no methods to reach out to you. He could have easily come over to your place, but with Zayne being Zayne, he would not intrude into someone else's property if he was not invited at first glance.

His phone vibrated from the inside of his suit, and he peeled apart the right side of his tailored suit to fish out his phone. He stared at the caller's name for quite a bit. Longer than a few seconds. 'Y/N' flashed on his phone's screen. He pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello."

"Zayne." You were huffing and panting, and he could hear your whimper through the line. "I need... I need your help." You tried to explain, one hand holding the phone to your ears while the other pressed up against the deep gash you have on the side of your hips. "Nobody was picking up... I had no choice..."

Your voice. It was breaking up in between chokes and whimpers and sharp inhales. Zayne knew you were hurt, and this time, it is much more severe than any other times when he was there to tend to your wounds. He knew this was coming. No, not the call. He figured you would uphold your ego so much that you would not reach out to him anymore just to prove him wrong. To prove to him that you could take care of yourself.

But look at you now. He knew that there shall be a day where he would have to treat you when you are at your worst condition. He could imagine you being pushed into the hospital, with tendrils of tubes surrounding your body; to administer blood, nutrients, oxygens and many other fluids that your body requires to achieve a stable condition. His mind got snapped back to reality when you no longer spoke on the other side of the line.

"Stay still." You heard someone talking, unsure whether if it was towards you. "Or else you might end up hurting yourself again."

Your eyelids felt heavy as you slowly opened them, taking in your surroundings. The last moment you remembered was you were at one of the danger zones and you were outnumbered by a couple of wanderers. You managed to defeat them with all of your might and yet they manage to give you a wound so nasty it robbed your ability to stand and walk.

The room that you are currently in does not smell sterile at all. In fact, it smells like a mix of lavender and with hints of coconuts. The room was lit only with lamp decors, the light bouncing off of the pristine white walls, tainting it with a shade of beige. The room is tidy and emits the vibes of a cosy home which reminds you of someone you knew.

"Did the concussion made you lost the ability to listen to simple instructions?" You snapped your head to the right side as you slowly sat yourself up and you could not stop your jaw from dropping mentally. Zayne is seated right next to you, an apple in hand and a knife in another, eyes focused on peeling the skin off of the apple. One of his many acquired skills.

Your palm smoothed over your hip and you winced, facial features scrunched together in pain as you realised how bad your wound is. "What happened?" You choked out, still awaiting for the stinging pain to wear off.

"You called me earlier and through the phone, I could tell that you were terribly injured." He brought the peeled apple up to his face, examining it closely before placing it down and taking the next apple to start peeling its skin off. "So I went over to save you."

"But..." You were embarassed, teeth biting onto your bottom lip. "With what I had done previously... you could have-"

"You called me after six months of not being in contact, and you expect me to do nothing with your calls for help?" He spoke, finally placing the half-peeled apple down onto the ceramic plate, a clink followed as he placed the knife down. He looked towards you, his hazel green eyes are only brown within such a dark room. But you could make out the soft gaze he was giving you. "Does it still hurt?"

Your cheeks were hot, your heartbeat ramping up when he got closer to you. "I will leave once I feel better." He quirked one of his thin eyebrows up, a signal of confusion. "As soon as I can walk, I mean." You turned your face away from him, but this time, his fingers were quick to catch your chin, pulling you back to stare at him.

"I'm afraid that might take a while." He lets go of your chin and pulled down the blanket slightly, enough for him to see the bandage wrapped around your hip, and enough for him to notice the bits of skin showing above your hip given he had to wrap your hips so clothing would only be in the way of his treatment. "Your wounds are quite deep this time around. I had used my evol to freeze and cut out some of the dead tissue but I think rest should be your first priority for now."

"Look, I called you because I couldn't reach out to anyone else okay? I will be out of your hair once all of this," you gestured at your wound. "is fully healed." Your chafed statement made him sighed, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his sculpted nose. "So how long will this take? For me to heal?"

"I'm sorry." He muttered, the voice of his faltered alongside the wind chimes that he had hung by the windows. Your whole body was rigid, staring at the man in front of you, apologising to you out-of-the-blue. "It was selfish of me to ask you to quit your job and to not trust you in protecting yourself."

Your lips could not move, as if you were gagged by his remorse, his guilt, his regrets. Six months passed, and yet you did not took it any easier than him despite you were the one who chose to leave him and to never look back. You were the one who blocked him from contacting you entirely, you were the one who thought that he would at least cared about your passion for your work.

However, as a matter-of-fact, you can never forget about him. You always find yourself taking the long way home, purposely passing by Akso Hospital just to catch a glimpse of him. On lucky days, maybe you could catch him from a far distance, getting off of work. On unlucky days, you could still catch his black sedan car parked within the staff columns.

"When you called me, I expected the worst." Zayne's side profile is the only thing you could see now. "I tried contacting you after you had left, but the dial tone always ends, so I assumed that you have blocked me." Hearing how he had tried to reach out to you, your gut twisted, adding on to the pain that you are experiencing physically. "But I would understand if you would want to rest alone at your house instead of mine. I can schedule to send you back home tomorrow before I head off to the hospital."

"Zayne, I, I just couldn't believe it when you asked me to quit my job..." You trailed off, your eyes drooped as you felt your tears weighing them down. "I thought you would have known better that I am a deepspace hunter and that I will always be putting my life on the line."

Zayne leaned over, his shadow loomed over your figure and he placed his hand on the top of your head, slowly smoothing your hair behind your back. His touch was gentle, soothing to your skin. "And I should have trusted you instead of asking you to quit." You can feel the heat radiating from both of his hands cupping your cheeks, your face probably the size of an egg within his grasp. "When you were away, I find myself thinking about you and your safety a lot."

You agreed, your hand coming up to cup over his. The difference between both of your hands always a surprise to you. "I can't help but to want you as well, Zayne." His thumb caught the tear that streamed down your cheeks and he wiped it off. "I am sorry too, for having to walk out on you and on this relationship."

"Now, you should allow yourself to rest." Zayne's lips curled up into a small encouraging smile. He laid you down onto the bed slowly, hovering over you. "Would you still like me to fetch you back home tomorrow?" The shake of your head made him sighed in relief. "Then you should stay here, where I am capable of taking care of you." He peered down at you, his gentle gaze contradictory to his chiseled facial features. "Not only till you get better, but for the future too." The man then leaned down to claim your lips in a soft and longing kiss.

Tadaa! That is the end for this one-shot! It is fluff just as requested by my reader, so I hope this suffices you guys heart <3

[ihrthoney]

you know me

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff! some mentions of what happened to him in the asylum

word count: 1.9k

an: i hope you guys like it 😅 part 1

Jason had told you he would disappear for a few days, he said he would explain when he came back and until then to quit your job and not leave your house. Before leaving, he gave you a device and told you he would beep it three times to signal you that he was outside of your apartment. 

The night he held you was the only time he had let you so close to him. When you parted to wash your face, he made it clear he wanted to keep a distance between you two. Whenever you walked towards him he would take a step backwards, it stung but you can understand why, the mark on his face was a sign that whatever happened to him was bad. 

The last thing he told you before returning to the shadows was to start packing. Your mind told you he wasn’t the same and that you should be asking questions instead of blindly following him. Yet, the only thing you’ve ever wanted for the past few years was him. Nothing was going to stop you from following him, not even him. 

-

Meanwhile, Jason was at a loss on what to do. Seeing you brought back fond and awful memories. His memory was tainted with the bad things that have happened to him, his childhood, the in-between and the after. But you, you were like a firefly in the quiet meadow, a temporary relief before the world burned around him.

He had been questioning what he should do with you, where his feelings for you still lie. As of right now, he just wants to keep you safe. There’s a battle in his mind, he can’t decide whether he’s happy that you stayed and waited for him or if he should call you foolish for not getting out of Gotham, for putting yourself in danger. The former thought is winning, his heart thumps at the thought of still being remembered as Jason and not the failed robin.

Memories of your time together flash in his mind as he makes his way back to your place; he recognizes the apartment, it’s the one you two planned to move into. You were the one thing he wouldn’t let anyone touch, not then and definitely not now. He can’t ever be the person you so wholly loved but he wants to be someone you can learn to love. 

There are a lot of risks with that, you’d be a constant target, he’d have to either go with you anytime you went in public or simply have whatever you wanted delivered by someone else. The life you had before will be no more, he’s selfish but he hopes you don’t mind.

-

It’s about 3am in the morning when you hear the device beep, you respond back with the code he gave you then go to your window to open it for him (you have a feeling he could open it just fine.)

The night he was in your apartment, he was in all black clothes, now he’s in front of you covered head to toe in thick armor. The suit makes your window seem so fragile, the living room looks much smaller too. 

He clicks his helmet off and gently sets it on the floor, “Are you ready to go?” You can’t tell whether it’s a question or a statement but by the way he’s looking at you, you’re going to guess he’s telling you. 

“Am I allowed to ask where?” He follows you as you check the place for any belongings you may have missed, his heavy footsteps follow you, even in the armor he’s quiet. “A safehouse. Somewhere outside of the city.” After making your rounds, sad you two couldn’t occupy the space, you turn to face him, “Will you be there too?”

The question catches him off-guard, unused to being thought of. Despite the hardness to his eyes, how tense his posture is, the way he speaks to you was like before, gentle and soft. Under all the pain, he was a sweet boy.

To you, he will always be your sweet boy.

“Of course.”

-

Given the time, you fell asleep in the car, waking up in your bed but a different room. It takes a bit to remember the events that have happened. Moving the blankets off of you, you make your way around the safehouse. The layout is similar to your old apartment, it’s comforting but makes you question how he was able to find a place with the same format. 

A click of a door makes you turn and you see Jason in the clothes you saw him in the night he visited you, “I got you some food, we should talk.” 

He places down multiple containers with different food’s inside and a large cup of coffee from your favorite cafe. He remembered. Jason makes his way to sit across from you, a breakfast serving only for one so you ask to which he replies that he already ate. 

Still, like before, you offer him a plate of a little bit of everything in case he’s hungry again or lying about his eating habits. You’re careful to not treat him like nothing happened but not as a stranger either, it’s a strange middle you’re still trying to understand.

“We’ll talk after you eat.” He doesn’t touch the food you offered him but you hope the thought reaches him all the same. There’s a part of you that hopes your boyfriend is still there considering that you were tucked in bed in a new change of clothes, but he keeps you more than an arm’s length away. 

It should be uncomfortable, the way he watches you eat, the man before you is bigger, face sharper, still handsome. His eyes never left you even as you moved to put any leftovers away. Grabbing him a glass of water, you sat in front of him once again. 

“What would you like to know first?” As quick as the movement was, you saw the way his gaze flickered to the side then back up, “Anything you’re comfortable with telling me.”

The ache in his chest comes back, you were his sweetness, you still are and it hurts him to be near you. You were all he dreamed about, amongst other things, when he was trapped in that wing. Words can't explain how relieved he was that the Joker could not touch you or taint your image, you were so dear to him. 

“I followed.. him.. to Arkham’s Asylum, specifically an abandoned wing.” His beautiful eyes no longer looked into your own, instead focusing on the way your fingers fidget, “For almost two years I was tortured.. tied to a chair, hung up by the arms.. I know you saw the scar. There are things I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say out loud… I just wanted him to kill me.”

There’s a pause before he continues, “For months I waited for Batman, I refused to believe he forgot about me, that he replaced me but when I saw that picture.” Silence envelopes the room, it’s thick and he doesn’t say anything for a while, you also knew better than to say anything about how bad Batman’s grief actually was.

Your hand moves to hold his, to comfort him in any way but you’re afraid to push him into silence, but your hesitation is for naught as he grabs your hand and interlinks your fingers together, quietly he says, “I dreamt of you.” The words make you move your gaze from your intertwined hands to his eyes. 

“I missed you so much, yn.” His voice cracks and he looks away, Jason tries to pull his hand from yours but you squeeze them tighter together, “I thought about you every single day, Jace. Not a second went by when I wasn’t thinking of you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I’m not the same person.” Quickly you replied, standing up from the chair and moving to his side of the table, “I don’t expect you to be, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” It seems to be the wrong answer as he stands from the chair and creates space between you two, arms crossing against his chest, “It should! I can’t- We can’t be together, there’s no point!”

It’s a lie, he’s lying, he can’t accept that you love him like it’s easy, like his whole existence isn’t filthy. This was bad, he shouldn't have seen you, “I’m not sorry that I love you, I never will be. I don’t care that you’ve changed, you are still the most important person to me! I will do anything for you.” Your voice is soft but stern, you need him to hear you. 

As much as you want to, you don’t approach him, you’re just happy he opened up to you at all. There’s obviously more than happened to him, more than just physical abuse. You have to be smart and careful not to treat him like he’s fragile because your Jason is anything but. He’s the strongest person you know and you’re here to help him feel loved and supported. 

Blue eyes analyze your body language, watching your chest move, the way your fingers slightly shake, “Why.. Why do you still love me?” His knees give out and he falls to the floor, you’re quick to move towards him in case he falls completely, so you opt to sit just a couple steps away. 

“How can I not love you? Even if you hadn’t come back I would have still loved you. You are my lifeline Jason.” You’ve never been a liar, not once had he ever doubted you, even now, as different as he looks you still followed his every word. Not once did you care to think he would have poisoned your food or this safehouse itself could have been a trap; Yet you followed him anyway. Why?

“You can’t possibly look at me and still love it.” Jason can barely stand to look at his own reflection, it’s starting to frustrate him that you supposedly see past the scars and accept him. It can’t be that easy, it shouldn’t be.

He doesn’t realize he said the last thing out loud, “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, Jaybee.” A scoff falls from his lips at the nickname, and if you didn’t know him any better you would’ve missed the teeny tiny smile that appeared on his lips. 

“Whatever is running through that head of yours, I’m going to need you to tell me, okay? Maybe not now, or tomorrow or even the day after that but I’m always going to be here for you in any way that I can. I have all the time in the world with you around, I promised you then and I promise you now, I will always be right by your side.” 

The ache in his chest is back, he feels his heart beating so fast, without thinking much he reaches towards you and holds you to his chest like the night he first saw you again. Only this time he cradled your body so close to his own, you were sideways which meant you got to hear the pounding of his heart. His hands weaved through your hair and if you felt his tears drip onto your hair you ignored it. 

You can learn to love him just as you did before. 

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

taglist for those who commented :) @fanficwritersworld @jasonsbaby @princessesgarden @anime-potato-san @ravensandmysterae

[gay-dorito-dust]

Fiquei completamente apaixonada pelo imagine que você fez do Logan/Wade/Reader, queria muito outro assim, nada em especial, só mais sobre o relacionamento dos três (I'm really bad with requests, sorry)

(Rough translation by google: I was completely in love with the imagine you made of Logan/Wade/Reader, I really wanted another one like that, nothing in particular, just more about the relationship of the three) if it’s translated something within the request wrong, let me know.

Emotional support isn’t either Wade nor Logan’s strong suit. one made a massive joke out of everything, even his own feelings, while the other suppressed them unhealthily.

So needless to say if emotional comfort is what you were after, you were unfortunately out of luck but that didn’t mean that the pair were about to leave you to suffer alone during such a rough time in your life. Wade and Logan will find a way to help you anyway they could.

Wade would insist that you both have a spontaneous day where you’d do anything that came to your mind without judgment. You may or may not end up making dick cookies together in the kitchen whilst wearing your matching unicorn onesie pyjamas, covered in flour and other stuff.

Ass slaps -consensual of course- are a common occurrence between you, Wade and Logan…well mainly you and Wade…but Logan will gently tap your ass before kissing your forehead, meanwhile giving Wade the hardest slap that would leave a hand shape bruise that would last a week.

Cuddles are something that’s also frequent in your relationship with Wade and Logan but most -if not all- of the time you were in the middle of the both of them, leeching off of their warmth like the parasite you were but you were living the life.

Wade doesn’t care whether he’s the big or small spoon as either way he gets to be close to you in some capacity, where as Logan likes to be the big spoon so he could keep you safe and protected, always sleeping with his back to the door so that if anything were to happen they’d have to get through him.

Wade’s petnames for you are:

Cutie patootie with the booty

Peanut (something he also calls Logan)

Pookie/pookie bear

Sexiest person alive

Logan’s petnames for you are:

Darling

Sweetheart

That’s pretty much it as he’s not too overly worried about petnames, where as Wade has a thousand more up his sleeve that he pulls out of nowhere.

You and Wade would sometimes blatantly check out Logan whenever he’s shirtless and doing his one thing while you and Wade laid on the floor, feet kicking in the air as you both admired your hot partner. (Logan is very aware of what you two were doing but didn’t have it in him to say shit)

Dog pool is basically your, Logan and wades child and she is spoilt the fuck by the three of you for being the cutest dog you’ve ever seen. You dressed her up as Mary Poppins once for Halloween and now you have albums upon albums filled with pictures of dog pool in cute doggy costumes. This is her cannon event.

Logan has nightmares and would often act all cold and distant afterwards but you would gently grab his arm and pull him in for a comforting hug. ‘Don’t walk away,’ you said, ‘please we can figure this out together okay? You’ve been alone long enough, don’t for yourself to fall back into old habits when you’ve got two people who care deeply about you and want to see you okay.’ You add as you rub your hand up and down his back reassuringly until you manage to ease him back into bed and fall asleep on top of his chest so he doesn’t move.

You press kisses to Wade’s face and call him handsome, gorgeous, cutie, all sorts of names that have him feeling soft and fuzzy within his chest because he’s aware of how he looks, but you loved him unconditionally and would even help him with toupees and whatnot, though not before telling him that you find him attractive how he is and wouldn’t want him to change for anyone.

You got a lot of kisses and cuddles from him later because you had no right being that fucking cute!

[chosos-mascara]

wedding night

𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after an arranged marriage to unite your clans, you're left alone in a hotel room with your new husband.

𝗰���𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - arranged marriage (reader + toji), cunnilingus, pet names (sweetheart, baby), possessiveness from toji ("you're mine"), toji's described as big, reader submissive, creampie 1.4k words

Toji threw himself down, mattress moving with the buoyancy of his body, pushing him upward only slightly before bowing with his weight. He'd unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt - blazer and waistcoat discarded long before the end of the night. You stood awkwardly, thumb caressing over the back of one hand for comfort. In this moment, you'd been thankful for the less interesting choice in bridal gown, an ivory slip dress for a more casual occasion - it had suited Toji's lax manner abundantly well. It must have been a characteristic your mother had predicted, or perhaps learned from the husband she had picked out for you. 

"Y're lookin' like a lost little puppy." Perhaps the first sentence your new husband had said to you. Most of the evening had consisted of interacting with families, the uniting of clans more important than the binding of two people. The Zen'in's had only agreed to allow your clan to ally with them if you would marry whom they'd viewed as their weakest - born with no cursed energy. Though as your eyes wondered over the rugged man before you, you'd been left to witness an aura like no other. From one glance at Toji, you'd felt he'd held more ability than any Zen'in you'd met that evening. 

"Sorry." You'd mumbled, gaze met with narrow green eyes. He'd made himself comfortable, laying back on the bed with his head supported by the thickness of pillows, black hair splaying onto the white sheets surrounding him.  "Jus' go get changed n take your face off - or whatever ladies do at night." Toji's eyes closed, an arm draping across his forehead. Glancing toward the bathroom, you'd did as he'd suggested, a white nightie packed neatly within the bag you'd dropped off earlier in the day. 

Even after washing up and changing, you hadn't wanted to return to the room in which Toji had laid. The realization that the man on the other side of these walls had now been bound to you by law, and by your families standards had some ownership over you had dawned deeply over your mind. The excitement of escaping your family had lifted, replaced by the dread of a man you'd never met before your wedding day. 

Toji had been closed off for the entire event, speaking only to those close to him, ordering the same glass of whiskey over the course of the evening. He hadn't appeared rude toward you, yet he'd not seemed too interested either. Hunched against the tiles, you were left with the question of what he'd expected of you this evening - the first night as a married couple. Sighing, you lifted a hand to the lock, deciding to push yourself into the unknown. With enough luck, the alcohol he'd drank would've lulled him into a peaceful slumber, in which you'd be able to mirror within the hour. 

"Thought you'd ran away." His voice had almost startled you when you'd opened the door. Toji now sat upright with phone in hand, eyes glued to your figure. It had been obvious where his gaze had landed, right over the peak of fabric that covered your breasts, small bumps over the perked nipples due to change in air. You hadn't expected him to look over you so nonchalantly, yet his attention had caused a twist within your stomach you'd appreciated. 

"And, why would that be?" The tone from your voice had been more seductive than you'd intended, though with his scan of your curves and clear interest in the nightgown you'd worn, part of you'd hoped he'd reflect the sultry aura.  "Took a long time is all." Toji shifted, finally locking his phone and placing it on the bedside table. When his hand had been left empty, it had immediately drifted down to his belt, resting over the top of his fly. The movements had drawn your attention to the area, noticing a larger bulge beneath the fabric. 

"Was getting ready for you." Lips curving upward, you placed one foot in front of the other, finally guiding your nervous body toward the bed he'd lounged within.  "Oh, really?" His voice had sounded distant as his focus remained only on your physical being, pushing himself away from the headboard when your body had finally met with the mattress beside him.  "Do you like it?" There was a slight need for validation even if you'd been aware of his answer, wanting to hear praise fall from his mouth. The scar over his lip contorted when you'd asked, a smirk forming when he'd finally lifted his eyes from your chest, meeting your own.  "I'm a man, after all." 

Lips connecting, you'd been left to taste the Zen'in you'd now called your husband. The first kiss shared with one another - a heated and passionate affair after a much too stressful day. In fact, it had been a build up over the past month that had driven both you and him insane - one that you'd finally overcome. Toji's difference from his family had given you faith that perhaps he'd been a good man - the opposite to most Zen'ins within his clan. 

Large hands were quick to glide over the silk as his weight shifted above you, legs spreading to accommodate his wide structure. He hadn't taken his time with the outfit, moving the skirt upward with aggression until you'd been left bare from chest down, exposed to the male above you.  "Couldn't like it that much if you're taking it off so quickly." There had been confidence behind your voice that Toji had admired, a fire ignited within him when remembering you were his to fuck all he'd pleased. A bratty woman had some appeal behind it, a challenge to guide you into submission.   "Prefer you bare." His words were spoken against your stomach as his tongue met with your skin, licking and nipping over flesh and allowing goosebumps to trail behind his touch. Toji's breath was hot against you, tickling you as he'd made his way over your core. Unlike the haste with uncovering you, he took his time in lowering himself to reach between your thighs, leaving your heart to race in anticipation.

Finally, his face had halted, tongue pressing to you entrance and gliding a stripe upward, a low hum from your lips as he'd began to taste you. Toji had been eager once relishing in your flavor, swirls of his tongue as you'd been left to appreciate the work of his mouth. Leisurely, he placed middle finger alongside his tongue, moving the pad over you to move alongside his tongue, before finally drifting down and dipping into your already dripping core. Your hips had innately bucked upward, a languid grind against his face and whimper from lips as he'd drawn his finger in and out, another irrepressible moan when he'd added a second. 

The build up had began when he'd picked a pace, fluid movements of his wrist and mouth, soft sucks over the sweet bud that had him humming against your cunt in adoration. Your fingers had found their way to lace within his hair, a gentle tug to signify your pleasure pulling another sound from his chest.  "Close." The word uttered under your breath as your eyes had squeezed closed, a high pitched squeak from your body as you'd felt your high crash over you. Toji had chuckled against you, vibrations adding to intensity. 

Only when you'd fell limp to the bed, whines dying on your tongue, had Toji pulled back, a languid wipe over his face before unbuttoning his trousers. He hadn't given you a chance to look before lining himself with your wetness, a jolt from your body when feeling the head of him run along your folds, a hiss flowing between his teeth when finally stretching you over him.  "Gonna take it all, sweet thing?" His whisper had caused tingles to prick over your spine, a slight burn when he'd pushed deeper into you. When adjusting to size you'd thought it better you hadn't caught a glimpse of his length before he'd entered you. 

Slowly, he rocked his hips, mouth latching over your neck and sucking to leave a mark. One large hand grasped over your chest, fingers wrapping around as he'd squeezed harshly over a breast. "Such'a good girl." The deep tone had ricocheted from the base of your neck as his face had nestled between shoulder and throat, another roll into you. The initial pain had subsided and you'd felt yourself relaxing beneath him, each rock causing his lower abdomen to glide over your cunt, kissing the surface of your clit. You'd ran teeth over your bottom lip, a shudder over skin when contact had been made.  "My fucking good girl." Toji's possessiveness had been apparent, yet it hadn't scared you. When he'd groped and squeezed over your body, marking you and claiming you as his, you'd been left in enjoyment rather than fear. 

"'m all yours, Toji." The approval from your lips had him groaning against you, an excited bite over your skin as he'd pulled his face back, allowing himself to admire the woman beneath him. When your eyes had fluttered open, you'd been met with the same green orbs you'd caught only glimpses of throughout the day, pupils now blown out, skin prickled with heat.  "Say that again, baby."  "I'm yours, Toji." Hearing his name, he jolted forward, stomach sucking inward when feeling you wrap around his base and take him at full length. The movement had caused your mouth to drop wider in awe, eyes rolling upward.  "Fuck-" He drew back before pounding himself forward again, though this time his body had stuttered with the movement, a staggered breath from lips. "Take it-" Toji's instruction had been cut short by a guttural groan, head tilting back as he'd fucked his seed into you. 

tags - @suget

[cosmocup1d]

Notes : reader has no gender

'And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space'

After that weird strange book everyone seems to forgot what happened

Accept you

But you kept your mouth shut as you didn't wanted to be questioned as you felt so tired

Yet giddy at the same time

But they did wonder where you got the round black shaded glass

'But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved'

You and the group walk in the gates of night Raven collage with the main Street being decorated with pumpkins and candles

The colors of the pumpkin and the flame of the candle reminded you of his eyes

'Me and my husband'

"What! So many!?" A familiar voices gasp out making you and the group turn seeing the headmage with a... Huge package?

You just prayed to the seven it wasn't another task so that you could research him

'We're doing better'

"Could it be that were out together happily? What a miracle!" The headmaster said with his normal joyful tone "I just happened to meet everyone except for Trey outside" The dormleader of the heartslabyul cuts in

"Even if everyone was out together, there's no need to make a fuss about it" The dormleader of the pomfiore huffed "What's the headmage doing?" Epel said "he's carrying a huge package..." Epe pointed out

'It's always been just him and me, together'

"Oh, good you asked!" The headmage said "I found an old portrait while I was organized the storeroom..." He explained "This is it" The headmage then started to carefully tear the paper

'So I bet all I have on that'

"This person in the picture is from long before I came to Night Raven college" The headmage started to explain "He is a graduate of our school from hundreds of years ago" He carefully rip the paper as to not damage the package "halloween, which was a very minor event back then, was made known a over the world" As he continues to explain you felt a sense of deja vu

'Furrowed brow'

"It is said that he is the one who laid the foundation for the Halloween celebration that you enjoy every year..." As the headmage continue to rip the paper you saw a very familiar suit which made your heart skip a beat

Not from giddy no.. From nervousness

'And at least in this lifetime'

"His name..."

'Please don't tell me it's him.. Please..' You thought to yourself as your mouth felt dry "Is Skully J. Graves"

'We're sticking together'

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. Everything felt so dizzy at the point you block out everyone voice

'Me and my husband'

Dead. He's dead. For hundred of years. Yet you didn't let your tears slip. You took out the round black shaded glasses and putting then on

'We're sticking together'

The world was- no IS cruel. Especially to you. You couldn't focus on anything but lucky there was no classes as it was Halloween

You yawned as you lift up the glasses to rub your eyes as it was getting late

'Me and my husband'

You enter the ramshackle dorm as the ghosts greeted you kindly as usual but they were curious about the glasses which you replied

"Someone gave them to me" It wasn't true but it wasn't a lie either

They just nod as they disappear into thin air leaving you alone. You yawn again as you get ready for bed

'We're doing better'

You layed on the old bed as grim sleep next to you like always

You took off the glasses and carefully putting them on your nightstand as you yawn and turning off your lamp

It took a few minutes but you fell asleep but not before seeing the silhouette of your beloved king of Halloween

[mitsuyeaah]

DEVIL IN DISGUISE

SANZU HARUCHIYO x f! reader

“he lies, he bluffs, he’s unpredictable. he is a sucker with a gun, a bad boy with a tainted heart, a villain by the devil’s law.”

cw: sugar daddy!sanzu, law student!reader, nsfw (mdni), smut, implied age gap (late twenties sanzu, early twenties reader), bdsm (gunplay, restraint, blindfold), rough unprotected sex, creampie, slight exhibitionism, oral (m & f receiving, cum swallowing), alcohol use (brief), mentions of smoking, mentions of drug use, swearing, pet names (pretty girl, princess, baby), degradation

word count: 11k

a/n: my piece for The #SugarDaddyCollab event by @sleepysnk !! © divider: anlian-aishang

The loud bass of the music reverberated throughout your body, the bouncing strobe lights of the dimly lit club making it hard to navigate through, especially with the sea of sweaty bodies grinding against each other.

You adjusted the black masquerade mask that rested on your nose that partially hid the top part of your face—except your eyes—before reaching for the tray full of alcoholic beverages that were in various interesting colours.

“Oh, I’ll take those. Manager told me she wanted you to specifically serve a private VIP room today, the Golden Room. Quickly! You have to be there before our clients.” Your co-worker swiftly took the tray full of drinks, ushering you away before hastily leaving, her short figure blending in amongst the crowd of people until she was nowhere to be seen.

The Golden Room. It was the most expensive private VIP room that the club had to offer as it had its own floor at the very top of the building, overlooking the bustling nightlife of Roppongi. The private room had its exclusive DJ and mini-bar that catered to the client’s needs—and only their needs—along with a personal server, which was you for tonight.

For the past few months that you’ve been working at this club, you have never been asked to serve one of the private VIP rooms, let alone the most expensive one. You were always down at the main floor serving drinks, blending in with the huge crowd that never seemed to die down, even at early hours of the morning.

Trying to make yourself presentable, you hastily made your way to the main elevators to get to the top floor. In all honesty, you were quite nervous about this, not only was it your first time being a personal server, but it was also because you knew that the clients had money, a lot of money, so you couldn’t afford to be fucking up your job any time soon.

After passing all the other floors in the building, the elevator dinged and its doors slid open to reveal an exquisite room, as expected. You finally knew why it was called the Golden Room, this private space had accents of gold everywhere, from the chandelier down to its marbled floor, it also housed a spacious balcony that overlooked the teeming city down below, this section of the club was so high up that you swore you could almost reach the dark clouds above.

Thankfully, the said clients still weren’t there which gave you ample amounts of time to calm yourself down and be at your best behaviour, you couldn’t afford to lose this job due to a simple mistake.

There were only three people in the room at the moment, you, the bartender who already worked on drinks, and the DJ who was busy fiddling with his controllers, music already coming out of the speakers.

You stood by the mini-bar, waiting for the patrons to walk in so you could warmly welcome them.

The elevator door dinged, revealing a lone man standing inside it. He was fairly tall, rosy pink hair that ended in a long mullet, noticeable scars on either corners of his lips, and deep turquoise eyes that complimented his prominent thick lashes.

The man strutted in, sporting a striped navy blue three-piece suit and a white button up, your eyes followed him as he sat in the middle of the long leather couch that rested against the wall, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on the backrest, his aquamarine gaze already on you.

That’s it? That’s our client? Just him? Questions ran through your mind as no other person walked out from the elevator, just the pink-haired man, all alone.

You realised he must’ve had a shit ton of money to be booking the most extravagant room that this club had to offer, all for himself. Goddamn, rich people really are something else, you thought.

It was awkward.

The pink-haired man stared at you and didn’t even bother hiding it, you felt small under his intense gaze, also making you conscious about the black strapless latex top you were wearing. You shifted uncomfortably, he was still staring at you but that was when you remembered you completely forgot to greet him.

Oh shit. You were too distracted admiring the patron.

Your eyes widened a bit at the realisation, embarrassment slowly engulfing your body as you tried to take long confident strides toward the man, black thigh high boots clicking against the gold-accented marbled floor with every step you took. You plastered a warm smile, standing in front of the patron before introducing yourself and warmly welcoming him.

Well done, already fucking up the job, you thought, but the turquoise-eyed man let out a small chuckle, his voice deep but smooth like velvet, “Aren’t you cute?” He tilted his head to the side, a small smirk forming upon his pink lips. It was a bit hard not to stare at the scar that decorated his face, but you tried your best not to shift your gaze downward, not even the slightest bit.

You let out a shy laugh, “Thank you, I’ll be your personal server for tonight. If you need anything, I’ll be over there, at the mini-bar.” You couldn’t care less about his little compliment, you’ve heard the varieties of it, coming from different types of men that you had previously served.

It was common sense to expect some customers—if not all—to act this way toward the servers, and it honestly sickened you how some men could think that it was okay to talk to women like this. Yes, you and your co-workers were employees of a club but that didn’t give them the liberty to say and do anything they wanted.

After all, you guys were just trying to make a living. The least customers could do was extend their respect to mere club employees.

As you walked back to the mini-bar, you swore you could feel his burning gaze on you but you shook it off and ignored it, after all, he was just like any other man you’ve interacted with in this club.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.” He signalled the bartender behind you before pulling something out from his pocket, you didn’t know what it was but he was writing something, not that you cared.

Shortly after, the bartender set a lowball glass on the tray, the translucent coppery liquid modestly filling the glass, complemented with ice. You grabbed the tray and made your way over to the man situated on the sofa, neatly setting the cold drink before him.

“Sanzu.” The rosy-haired man spoke up from where he sat, pocketing whatever he was writing on and leaned forward to reach for the drink, “Hm?” You blinked at him, unsure what to reply, eyes wide and giving him a curious look

“Name ‘s Sanzu.” “Oh, alrigh—” “Why don’t you come hang out with me a little, hm?” Sanzu cut you off, an expectant look forming in his pretty aquamarine eyes. You awkwardly looked around as if there was someone you could ask for permission, but nonetheless, you hesitantly made your way over to him.

You sat next to him, knees touching together and arms neatly folded on your lap as if you were getting a formal photograph taken. There was ample room between the two of you, although it looked awkward, you decided it would be more awkward if you had sat next to Sanzu so closely, given the fact that you didn’t even know this man and he was a patron.

“I’m not really sure if this is professional. It’s protocol that I am not to sit with any pat—” “It’s completely fine, I personally know the people who own this club.” Sanzu slung one arm on the back rest while the other held the whiskey, bringing it up to his lips.

All you could do was nod, clearly, there was nothing else you could argue about.

Sanzu set the empty glass on the table and shifted his whole body to face you, “Tell me… what’s a pretty girl like you working at a club like this? That glint in your eyes screams innocence.” He lifted the slender hand that rested on the backrest and brought it up to your black mask, tracing each intricate design that decorated it.

His hand ventured further to one side of your face, reaching for the satin bow behind your head that secured the mask, his slender fingers tangling with the loops of the bow before pulling at the loose end, causing your mask to fall on your lap.

How exquisite. Sanzu keenly tilted his head to the side, turquoise eyes brimming with such interest.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.” A saccharine smile formed on his scarred lips. You snapped out of your trance, blinking up at him, “Oh, uh, ‘m just here to pay my bills and student loan…” you whispered, a bit embarrassed.

“Oh? And does this club pay you enough to do so?”

It didn’t. Your pay was just enough to get you through each week but you were practically scraping through, most of your meals were from the convenience store and there were times where you didn’t bring any lunch to eat in between your lectures due to your financial situation. It also didn’t help the fact that the weekly allowance from your parents all went to the dorm you rented.

Your parents weren’t white-collar workers like the customers you encountered in this club, they walked with confidence, swiping their cards left and right without a care in the world. Their wrists and neck decorated with heavy and expensive accessories while also donning luxury brands from head-to-toe that were probably expensive enough to pay for at least half of—if not more than—your tuition fee.

You assumed Sanzu was a white-collar worker, seeing the way he strutted into the room earlier, like he owned it, and the way he was neatly dressed and not a single wrinkle on his expensive suit. You also noticed the shiny watch he sported on his left wrist, glimmering under the lights.

“No.” You simply answered, gaze fixed on your hands that were slowly balling into fists.

Where was this conversation even going? You thought.

Was he here to degrade and make fun of your social status? Mock you because you weren’t in the same tax bracket? Flaunt his dirty money in your face? You’ve encountered this many times with other customers, belittling your very existence because of a simple mistake you’ve made.

It never bothered you these days like it did when you first encountered it, you remember crying on the toilet as you replayed the scene of a customer yelling harsh words at you, it didn’t help that they were also quite intoxicated. You were used to it by now but it was tiring, you didn’t need strangers telling you left and right that you weren’t like them.

“What if I tell you I could pay you more? Much more than your job can.”

You met his gaze, brows furrowing as you were confused about what this whole conversation was about. God, was he a businessman wanting to recruit employees? If he was, then this is highly unprofessional, you thought.

“I don’t quite follow…?”

Sanzu just gave you a small chuckle before pulling something out from his pocket and handing it to you, “If you decide you’re too good for this environment, I’m just a call away.” He stood up and made his way towards the elevator, bidding goodbye to the DJ, bartender and you.

He gave you one last smile before the elevator doors shut in front of him, and just like that, Sanzu was gone.

You let out a breath you’ve been holding ever since you entered this room and looked down at the folded piece of paper on your lap. With curiosity, you opened the paper, ‘I’m just getting started’ it wrote, with his number in red ink. You were about to shove it into your pocket until you noticed another paper behind it, your eyes widened.

It was a cheque. Was this what he was writing earlier?

Haruchiyo Sanzu, it stated on the top left corner, but what shocked you the most was the amount ordered to pay you, it was clearly more than what you made in your part-time job and was enough to get you through the week, more than a week, even.

How could Sanzu just give you this much money without batting an eye? Let alone a stranger he had just met. Was he crazy? But then your mind wandered back to the sentence on the other piece of paper, ‘I’m just getting started.’ Did that indicate he was able to give you more?

Surely not.

Boy, were you wrong. You contemplated for days on end whether to call Sanzu or not, it was very tempting but what if he was just bluffing? You knew he wasn’t, you went to the bank a few days ago to check if the cheque was fake or not, and to your surprise, it wasn’t fake. It had the exact amount of money stated on it.

A few weeks had passed when you finally decided to call Sanzu’s number due to the growing desperation for financial aid, you tried your best to rely on yourself and the part-time job at the club but it just wasn’t enough, you needed more. You needed what Sanzu was offering.

You were a bit hesitant to call him since you didn’t know if his offer still stood even after quite a period of time but you were desperate, and plus, it didn’t hurt to try. If he didn’t pick up then you’d have to suck it up and find other ways to support your living, even if it meant bending your back.

To your surprise, Sanzu did pick up, rather quickly, even.

Little did you know that this call was the pivoting point of your life, where you could finally say goodbye to your old lifestyle and welcome a new one you have never experienced before.

Upon meeting up with Sanzu, he had come clean about his intentions and how he was going to provide you anything and everything you ever wanted in exchange for company and sexual favours, and nothing else. A sugar daddy. You knew the offer was too good to not involve some kind of physical factors, but it wasn’t like you were new to sex.

Yes, others might view it as dirty and disrespectful to one’s self that they would simply let an older man ask them for sexual favours in return for the lavish lifestyle, but life was never butterflies and rainbows, life was harsh and as much as you’d hate to admit it, only the richest could survive among times like this where everything was in demand and becoming more expensive.

Looking at the situation at hand, it wasn’t like you had any other choice at this point. If the luxury life was going to welcome you with open arms through a man named Haruchiyo Sanzu, then you’d willingly let it.

You sat inside Sanzu’s white Bugatti Centodieci, on the way to a dinner reservation, the low roaring of its exhaust filling your ears as it came to a smooth halt at an intersection. You’ve been in this luxury car countless times before but you’ve never gotten quite used to it because you knew how expensive this vehicle was; you’ve done your research on some of the brands Sanzu sported, one of them being this extremely flamboyant car.

Your little research told you that there were only ten of the Centodieci models around the world, and Sanzu owned one of them. Your hands couldn’t help but sweat at the thought, causing you to smooth your pleated skirt down to wipe it off, “I like your nails, princess.” Sanzu reached a hand over the console and took yours, his fingers tracing the intricate details of your jewelled stiletto nails. Rhinestones gleaming underneath the bright city lights outside.

Not only were they embedded in expensive rhinestones but some of them were covered in 24K gold foil, costing your appointment at a whopping price but Sanzu never batted an eye when he swiped his card yesterday, no hesitation whatsoever. Last week, he had asked you to choose a nail design you really liked and he would take care of booking the appointment, of course, you jumped at that opportunity.

You knew why Sanzu loved paying for your nail appointments.

“Do you want me to test them out?” You blinked up at him and took his hand into yours, sensually massaging and rubbing it as if it were something else, god, Sanzu wished it was something else. He cursed under his breath at the sensation of his blood rushing down to his cock with need, his other hand gripping the leather steering wheel a little harder, knuckles turning painfully white as you continued with your ministrations,

“You always know what I want, huh?” He let out a breathy chuckle, shifting uncomfortably in his leather seat, cock now straining against his navy dress pants and begging to be let out. Sanzu skilfully manoeuvred his vehicle, taking desperate turns left and right to find a random deserted place to park, although it didn’t really matter if there were people around or not, his vehicle was heavily tinted and he liked the thrill of getting caught.

What were they gonna do? Stop him from getting head? They could try.

The tyres of Sanzu’s vehicle loudly skidded against the rough pavement of the empty parking lot as he desperately parked his car, not even bothering to situate his vehicle in a parking space, it was already evening and no one was around anyway.

“Fuck, come here.” Sanzu groaned, reclining his seat back and pulling your face closer to his own. You leaned over the console to kiss him, knees resting on the smooth material, one arm against the window of the driver’s side for support, and the other gripping the headrest behind his head.

Sanzu craned his neck forward to meet your gloss-stained lips, one hand firmly resting on your chin to keep you in place, while the other wandered elsewhere. His kisses held desperation in them, soft pillowy lips laced with hunger as it moved against your own. The man beneath you let out short erratic breaths that tickled below your nose, occasionally letting out soft eager whines into your lips.

He was usually on the dominant side, but fuck, was he needy when it came to receiving. Not that you complained, though, it was a pretty sight to see him all wrecked and at your mercy. It was priceless to see his authoritative demeanour crumble into nothing but a pathetic whining mess that begged for his cock to be touched and sucked on, even if it rarely happened.

You slightly jerked at Sanzu’s wandering hand that found its way to your inner thigh under the dimly lit car—the only source of light coming from the warm street lights of the parking lot—, slowly massaging and rubbing unfamiliar shapes at the supple flesh and earning a small whimper from you. His hand ventured around your outer thigh and flicked your skirt up, the skimpy fabric that was once barely covering your ass, now rested on your lower back and in full view for anyone who passed by the passenger’s window.

But you weren’t worried, Sanzu’s vehicle was tinted.

A small moan escaped your swollen lips but was swallowed down during the heated kiss with Sanzu as his large hand landed a merciless slap against the fat of your ass, the sharp searing pain from the sudden skin contact spreading across your backside making you wetter, “Put those pretty hands to use, baby.” He broke the kiss, lips ghosting over your own as he panted out, desperate for air to fill his lungs.

Sanzu placed both his hands behind his head and relaxed his torso against the warm leather seat to let you do your thing, his lust-filled turquoise eyes intently following your every move.

Shuffling closer to the evident tent in his pants, you placed your palm over his crotch, roughly palming his erection, causing a deep throaty groan from Sanzu, his back involuntarily arching away from the backrest and hands flying up to the headrest behind his head, gripping on it for his dear life. His eager eyes watched the way your twinkling nails moved against his strained cock, biting his lip at the sight and heat spreading throughout his body.

He loosened the black tie around his neck and hastily unbuttoned his collar so he could breathe better. You gave him a sly smile before slowly guiding the small pull-tab down the teeth of the zipper, the car was quiet, so you could only hear the movement of the zipper and Sanzu’s soft desperate pants, his pink lips slightly parted.

With the help of his hips, you pulled his pants down along with his underwear just enough to release his throbbing cock from its confines, earning a slight hiss from the rosy pink haired man as you firmly gripped his heavy length, your rhinestone-studded nails complimenting his hard cock with your fingers wrapped around him.

Sanzu let out a loud moan as you pumped his dick up and down after spitting at it, you gripped him like a vice, wrist skilfully twisting and tugging at his cock just how he liked it. He could almost cum right then and there at the sight of your freshly manicured fingers wrapped around his length. Fuck, he loved seeing your jewellery-embedded nails around his cock.

You flattened your tongue and licked a long slow stripe up the underside of his dick, earning a loud desperate whine from Sanzu, one hand flying down to tangle into your hair to eagerly tug at it, “Fuuuuuuck…” he breathed out, his bottom lip tightly caged between his teeth as he threw his head back.

God, you never failed to give him the best head of his life, and you were just getting started.

More desperate airy whines slipped past his pink lips as you peppered his length with light kisses, his hips greedily bucking up at you, Sanzu needed more, “Ngh! Stop being such a tease and suck me off already. We have a reservation, remember—ah!” He whined, lust-filled hunger evident in his tone.

Suddenly remembering about the dinner reservation, you didn’t hesitate to put the pink head in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around the blunt tip and primarily focusing on his precum-filled slit that had Sanzu practically writhing in his seat, his face contorting with pure pleasure, back arching, and hips hungrily bucking into your mouth, causing you to hold them down,

“Haaah! That’s it, now take it all in like the good girl you are.” He moaned, breath shaky and unstable.

And so you did. Without hesitation, you slowly slid your mouth down his length while taking deep breaths through your nose just like had Sanzu taught you before. His grip on your hair tightened, earning a loud moan from you which sent vibrations down his cock, “Ohhh fuck, you’re taking me in so—ngh! So well.” You started bobbing your head up and down, taking slow experimental motions with his hard cock sliding against your throat, this caused Sanzu to buck his hips higher, eager to feel the constant friction of your mouth against him.

“Mhm, I told you to stop teasing, didn’t I?” Sanzu growled and swiftly sat up, roughly taking the black tie loosely secured around his collar. He grabbed both your hands and pinned them behind your back—just resting above your ass—, using his tie to keep them in place. The whole action caused you to lean forward, taking more of Sanzu’s cock into your mouth.

Sanzu leaned back into his seat, one hand gripping the headrest and the other going back into your hair as he thrusted his hips in and out of your mouth, “Mhm—ah! That’s more like it. I can’t keep reminding you that I’m still in control here.” He moaned. Sanzu gathered all of your hair and put it up in a make-shift ponytail with his hand, as it obstructed his view from your pretty mouth taking all of his dick.

With his hand wrapped securely around your loose hair, he started relentlessly thrusting up into your hot mouth, his other hand behind his head practically digging into the headrest which he knew was going to leave evident marks but he didn’t care. He didn’t give a fuck about potentially damaging the expensive leather of his car, when you were taking him so so well.

All you could do was sit there and take it, tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks which surely ruined your makeup, your knees were painfully digging into the console and thighs burning from the lack of stretch but you didn’t care, all you wanted was for Sanzu to cum into your mouth.

Sanzu’s head spun as he was nearing his high, his head thrown back, lips parted, and stomach clenching from immense pleasure while he kept at his pace. His chest heaved up and down as he let out short airy desperate whines in tune with the movement of his hips, fuck, he was so close.

“I’m gonna cum—ngh! You better take all of my fuckin’ load like the good girl you are.” He thickly swallowed, his desperate whines turning into shallow erratic breathing, only a few more thrusts away before he topped over the edge.

Sanzu’s hips faltered as the rumbling coil deep in his stomach finally snapped, he threw his head back and arched his back as he cummed into your mouth, letting out a loud shameless moan that filled the entire vehicle. You moaned into his dick, feeling his hot cum roll down your throat as he firmly kept your head in place, his hips rolling into you to ride out his orgasm while gripping the headrest behind him, the tips of his fingers hurting from the constant pressure he’s been putting on it.

“Haah, yeah that’s it. Such a good girl.” Sanzu praised, letting go of your hair as you eagerly lapped up some of his cum that rolled down his dick. Before he could undo the tie that bound your wrists together, his phone loudly rang, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound.

Sanzu quickly reached for his phone that was inside his blazer pocket and cleared his throat before answering it. “Yes, yes, we will be there soon. Just got held up in traffic.” He chuckled, giving you a knowing look before bidding goodbye to whoever was on the other side of the call.

“They were just confirming if we were still coming for our reservation.” Sanzu laughed as he pulled his tie from your wrists, “Held up in traffic, huh.” You raised a brow at him—throat sore from your recent activities—as you sat into your seat and fixed yourself up with the help of the sun visor mirror. Sanzu tucked himself back in and gave you a breathy chuckle, “That was the first thing that popped into my mind.”

“Also, I didn’t hurt you too much, right? Got really carried away, sorry.” He sighed as he adjusted his seat into its normal upright position, looking at you with concern.

Sanzu knew that he could get too carried away during sex which causes him to become rough and unrelentless. Of course, he had already discussed this with you and to his surprise, you were okay with it, apparently you liked it rough. You shook your head, brushing him off with a smile, “It’s okay, you were enjoying yourself back there.” You laughed, sending him a teasing look.

The man next to you shook his head as he could feel warmth creeping up his cheeks and embarrassment engulfing his body. “Nonsense.” He muttered before turning his car on to make your way to the dinner reservation.

Sanzu’s personality was such a contrast from the first time you met him back at the club, right off the bat, you thought he was a cocky and arrogant individual with the way he acted that night but as you got to know his personality better, he was a completely different person.

The facade that he had on back when you first met him was definitely gone. But was that really a front he just put up? It made you wonder.

Both of you calmly walked inside the exquisite restaurant like you weren’t just sucking him off a couple of minutes ago. Sanzu rested a palm on the low of your back as the waiter guided you to your seats, “Why the sudden fancy dinner?” You looked up at him, his aquamarine gaze meeting yours, Sanzu shrugged, a small smile forming upon his lips, “Just wanted to treat my baby, that’s all. You’ve been so good for me, might reward you more, later.” He leaned closer as he spoke the last line, a hint of slyness laced in his tone.

Maybe you could actually live in this lifestyle.

Ever since Sanzu stepped into your life, there wasn’t a day where you struggled anymore. No more sleepless nights of thinking how to get through tomorrow, no more stressing out about upcoming bills, and lastly, no more encountering drunk nasty old men at the club who sneered at your social status.

You could solely focus on your law degree now. You were getting better grades because the financial stress had been lifted from your shoulders, your mind wasn’t wandering elsewhere during lectures, trying to think of ways of how to ration your pay for the week.

There was no other possible choice for you but to take Sanzu’s offer. If you were going to take the easy way out of your financial stress, might as well do it with someone who splendidly paid you, not only with money but with gifts and mind blowing sex.

You stared at the man sitting across you, as the waiter poured Moët & Chandon MCIII into two flute glasses, the translucent yellow liquid neatly sloshing around the glass. You admired Sanzu’s features as he mindlessly tapped at his phone—work related, he said—his expression unchanging as his thumbs swiftly typed something.

It has come to your attention that you never really knew what Sanzu did for work, every time you asked him, he would just brush it off and say something along the lines of ‘just business related stuff’ and you believed him, you didn’t want to push his boundaries further but you wished he was as open to you as you were with him.

Sanzu was very secretive about his phone calls too; one time, you had seen his phone ringing on his night stand while he was in the bathroom. You were about to grab his phone and take it to him, that was until he came out of the bathroom and saw you reaching for it, he practically lunged for his phone and answered it straight away while walking out of his bedroom.

The only thing you heard from Sanzu as he answered the phone was, “Yes, boss?”. You knew this ‘boss’ was called Mikey since you had seen the caller ID while reaching for his phone. It seemed like Sanzu was working for someone in a higher position than him despite having immense wealth. Who was this Mikey, anyway?

There would also be times whenever you slept over at his penthouse, Sanzu would just disappear during ungodly hours of the morning, sometimes it would stir you awake because he always reached for his nightstand drawer—that was always locked—before he left and sometimes it would make a loud creaking sound whenever he opened it. He always tucked the item he took out from that specific drawer into his pocket.

You never knew what he took out or what other contents that drawer housed because it needed a key to be opened, a key that Sanzu always took with him. You assumed it was something heavy as he had dropped it on the rug one time, causing him to curse under his breath.

There were times where you slept alone in his bed waiting for him to come home during the night but he would never arrive, instead, he would arrive sometime in the morning, very exhausted and looked like he needed a week of sleep.

Was he being overworked? You hoped not.

You knew this relationship between you and Sanzu was just contractual and not built on any feelings but you couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man. Sometimes, when it was his day off and he wasn’t leaving during ungodly hours of the morning, you would catch him smoking out on his balcony instead, which overlooked the city down below. Sanzu would just stare off into the horizon, letting the tobacco completely fill his lungs.

He always looked so… empty.

“I have something for you later, back at home. If that's fine with you?” You were pulled from your trance by Sanzu’s voice. He tucked his phone in his blazer and gave you an expectant look. You nodded your head, “Fine by me, you don’t even have to ask.”

Sanzu was always like this, he always spoiled you. He was so unpredictable, in a good way. He always got you what you wanted and sometimes he would even go out of his way to personally pick and buy whatever he thought would suit you. This man spent money on you left and right without a care in the world, sometimes you would wake up with a big bouquet of roses that scented his entire penthouse because he ‘ felt like buying you one’ as per his words.

During the times you stayed at your dorm for the night, there would be a delivery next morning of whatever item Sanzu decided to swipe his card on, whether it be designer shoes from the most recent collection, overly priced flowers, or clothes that only catered to you, the only thing consistent was that it was expensive, it was always expensive.

You never even asked for most of the gifts he gave you but nonetheless, you were thankful for them. Although, it did overwhelm you sometimes with how much he was spending on you. One time you asked him, “What if you run out of money?” and Sanzu merely laughed at your question but answered, “Baby, I will never lose money. I can guarantee you that.” There was something odd about his tone when he said that but you brushed it off.

Back at his penthouse, you waltzed toward his couch and practically threw yourself on it while Sanzu wandered off to get the item he had recently bought you. 

You still couldn’t believe that he had offered you to stay with him in this penthouse for free but you had to politely decline his offer since you still liked the idea of having your own space, plus, you didn’t even know when this whole thing was going to end, so it was better to be ready with a place to fall back to.

The first time you saw his penthouse, your mind was blown. The interior design screamed modern and luxurious, every corner you turned had your jaw dropping. There was a massive crystal chandelier that hung right at the centre of his living room, the walls were mainly floor-to-ceiling glass which allowed you to see breathtaking panoramic views of the city, it was truly beautiful during sunrise and sunset. The way the warm hues of the sun engulfed the whole space was just phenomenal.

His bedroom was grand and also consisted of these floor-to-ceiling glass, to which sometimes he liked to fuck you against, giving you a view of the bustling streets below as he pounded into you.

“Here.” Sanzu thrusted a rather large brown paper bag into your face, his aquamarine eyes gleaming with pure excitement. You sat up from his couch and took the paper bag, Christian Louboutin it read, written in white font.

He can’t be serious, you thought.

He sat next to you as you pulled out an equally coloured shoe box, which also had the same writing as the bag. “Sanzu…” you gasped, giving him a look of disbelief but he only silently urged you on to open the box.

After several layers of white tissue paper, you were met with a vibrant red shoe bag that had the same writing as the paper bag and the shoe box. As you removed the shoe bag, you were met with the most breathtaking pair of shoes you’ve ever seen.

They were black 130mm heeled platforms, donning its signature red bottom and consisted of a strap that would encase the ankle. The pumps were shiny underneath the chandelier light, causing you to gape at it with a curious gaze as you picked up one shoe. It was your very first pair of Louboutins and you were beyond ecstatic.

With Sanzu’s help, you managed to step into the heels. It was very comfortable despite its daunting heel size; you walked back and forth in his living room, strutting about and trying to get comfortable with the new pumps, the red bottoms loudly clicking against the tiled floors.

With a huge smile plastered on your face, you stopped in front of Sanzu, “Oh my goodness, I am over the moon right now.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his musky cologne. Sanzu stroked your hair, chuckling, “Anything for my baby. You always look so pretty in the things I buy you.”

“Now, how about I reward you for being so good today?” His hand stopped right at your nape and snaked around to the front of your neck, slightly pushing you away and leaning down to give you a passionate kiss, which you didn’t hesitate to return.

This time, his kisses were soft and sensual, like he wanted to savour every single moment with your lips on his but there was a slight desperation in them. You didn’t miss the way Sanzu’s fingers ever so slightly tightened around your neck and the way he leaned forward to try and deepen the kiss.

He didn’t spend much time with your lips and started trailing light but eager kisses down the side of your neck, earning a slight whimper from you as he bit down on a particular spot. Your hands clung to his navy blue blazer, wrinkling the expensive fabric with how much he abused your neck with his mouth.

You were already a whimpering mess and Sanzu hasn’t even done anything to you, yet. He loved how responsive you were under his touches, how the slightest touch he gave elicited the prettiest sounds from you. Such a good girl for him, that’s why he loved spoiling you.

“Wait for me on the bed, princess. You know what to do, everything off except those fuckin’ heels.” Sanzu broke the kiss and gave your forehead a soft peck, ushering you to his bedroom.

You nodded and wordlessly made your way to his room, platform heels loudly making contact with the tiled floor. Every step you took had your heart racing faster with excitement, you knew you were in for a long night and Sanzu wasn’t the one to hold back, especially if you’ve been such a good girl for him,

Before getting on Sanzu’s bed and waiting for him there, you had obeyed his instructions and stripped down every single article of clothing that covered your body, except your new Louboutins. You patiently sat on the edge of the bed, slightly shivering at the contrast of the cool air against your exposed skin, causing goosebumps and your nipples to immediately harden.

If you were being honest, you were already wet. You knew Sanzu didn’t have to do much since you were already turned on from the head you gave him in his car earlier. The way he turned into a whimpering mess despite being so domineering did things to you, it always did and you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the thought of him.

Sanzu came in a few seconds later, one hand holding his unfastened tie and the other holding handcuffs which mischievously glimmered under the hallway light, “Good girl. Now lie back on the pillows for me, baby.” He gave you a smug smile, his long legs striding towards the bed.

He encased one wrist with a cuff, the audible click of it letting you know that there was no getting away from him now; Sanzu looped the chain that held the cuffs together around the back of a metal bar on his headboard and cuffed your other wrist, both hands now firmly situated above your head. You slightly tugged at the cuffs, it was cold against your skin but you liked it.

Sanzu also brought the black tie up to your eyes, completely obstructing your view from anything, he firmly tied a knot behind your head and gave you a peck on the lips.

With your vision obstructed and your hands bound, you could only rely on your hearing. This made everything much more exciting, the thrill of not being able to see what he was going to do next nor not being able to touch him.

You could hear the rustling of sheets and suddenly, Sanzu wasn’t on the bed with you anymore, you couldn’t feel his weight on the bed. You assumed he was undressing himself as you heard the loud clang of the metal buckle on his belt meet the floor, along with the rustling of fabric.

The bed dipped under Sanzu’s weight as he positioned himself near your feet, he grabbed your ankles and brought them closer to you, effectively bending your knees toward the ceiling. He crawled closer to your anticipating body, watching the way your chest heaved with desperation and mouth slightly parted, smirking at the way your Louboutins dug into the mattress.

He spread your legs apart and started kissing down your inner thighs, alternating between each leg, earning a small moan of surprise from you. Sanzu stopped at a spot dangerously near the apex of your legs, biting and sucking at the supple flesh, causing you to whine and instinctively tug at the metal cuffs around your wrist.

“You’re already so wet for me… have I been neglecting my baby?” He cooed into your wet folds, lips ghosting over them to tease you. Fuck, your scent drove Sanzu crazy, he didn’t even know if he was even going to last but he wanted this to be about you and you, only. He didn’t care about putting his needs last, he wanted you to cum around him, and as many times as you could.

You let out a sigh of content as Sanzu flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your wet cunt, revelling at the way you tasted against him. He watched as you desperately yanked your wrists, making a loud clanking noise as he wrapped his mouth around your cunt, noisily sucking like his life depended on it.

Small whines escaped past your lips at Sanzu’s ministrations but soon turned into a loud moan as he shoved his stiff tongue inside, exploring every single space of your wet heat. His tongue moved in you at such speed that caused you to instinctively close your legs with the pleasure being too much to handle but Sanzu pinned both your knees sideways on the bed, his firm grip letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you close your legs.

“You can’t be doing that, baby. When I’m giving you a reward, you’ll have to take all of it.”

That’s right. Sanzu didn’t only spoil you by buying you expensive luxury items, no, he spoiled you in many different ways, and just like how you kindly accepted the things he bought you, you had to do the same thing with what he was giving you right now. Denying his mouth was equivalent to denying everything he had bought you.

Sanzu alternated between licking and sucking at your clit without faltering, causing you to near your orgasm. He looked up at you from his long prominent lashes and observed the way your stomach was clenching and back arching with pleasure, how you constantly pulled at the cuffs on your wrist hard enough to leave red marks, the way your lips were parted slightly and letting out shallow high pitched whines along with his name.

“Aah! Fuck, Sanzu! I’m going to cum.” Your hips desperately bucked up against his mouth as you came on it, head thrown back against his pillows as you cried out Sanzu’s name in a loud moan, it was music to his ears.

Sanzu lapped up your cum, sloppily licking at your cunt, causing your legs to shake at the overstimulation. If he wasn’t pinning your legs down, you would have tried to close your them already. He gave your cunt one last peck before finally leaving it alone.

You panted against his mattress, legs jelly and mind hazy from just being eaten out, your arms were also burning at the uncomfortable position but you knew Sanzu was nowhere near done.

The night just had begun, and like he wrote in that piece of paper when you first met him, he’s just getting started.

He got on his knees and gave his hard cock a few strokes, groaning at the pleasure. Sanzu placed both your legs over his shoulders and grabbed the base of his cock, teasing the tip of it with your cunt, slowly rubbing up and down your wet folds but never actually putting it in.

“Sanzu, please…” you whimpered, biting your bottom lip. He was so close but not exactly where you needed him to be.

It was truly a sight to see. Your hands bound above your head with handcuffs, your vision obstructed with his tie, your legs resting on top of his shoulders, and your newly bought Louboutins just behind his head.

Wasting no time, Sanzu slowly pushed his tip into your wet heat, already groaning at your tightness but before he could push any further, his phone loudly rang which caused both of you to jump at the sound. “Fucking hell.” Sanzu scoffed, slipping out of you and placing your legs back down to grab his phone from the pile of clothes.

“Sanzuuu, I’m sure they can wait. Please, just fuck me.” You whined, craning your neck as you felt him getting off the bed but he ignored your desperate pleas and answered his phone, “What the fuck do you want, Haitani?” He spat, hastily making his way back to you and placing your legs up on his shoulders again.

Was he seriously about to fuck you while on call? Who was that, anyway?

Sanzu kissed the inner side of your knee before slowly pushing all the way in, letting out a hot gasp and throwing his head back at the way your hot cunt desperately sucked him in, “Ah, fuck! You’re taking me so well, baby.” He praised you, on hand settling on your hip and the other holding his phone against his ears.

“Are you seriously fucking someone right now? Sanzu–” “You’re the one who called me during a very important moment, Ran. Now, what do you want?” You heard Sanzu reply to whoever was on the call, his voice clearly strained.

“Getting your dick wet isn’t important! I was just about to ask you if you wanted to come with Rindou and I.” Ran huffed, Sanzu could tell the older man was rolling his eyes at him.

Sanzu picked up his pace, the way his balls loudly slapped against your ass could surely be heard by Ran. “Ngh—ah! Sanzu!” a loud moan escaped your lips, causing you to quickly bite down at your bottom lip, embarrassment filling you as the male on the other side of the call most likely heard your shameless moan.

“Why would I want to—ah! Fuck! Why would I want to go with you two—ngh!” He shamelessly moaned into his phone, not giving a single fuck if Ran was disgusted or not, he should be thankful he even picked up the call.

Sanzu saw the way you were biting your lip so hard that it was sure to draw blood soon, he didn’t like you concealing your moans so he leaned forward and the hand that was previously on your hip was now situated on the mattress, beside your chest. This position allowed him to get deeper strokes into you, earning a loud cry of his name from you.

He was so deep and deliciously hit your g spot over and over again that you couldn’t help but let out a chain of loud moans, at this point you didn’t even think about the person on Sanzu’s phone, he was giving it to you so good that you had to let him know. The metal cuffs clinked against his headboard as you tried to desperately reach for something to keep you grounded with the immense pleasure you felt.

It also didn’t help with how your vision was obstructed, resulting in your other senses to become heightened, you could feel pleasure at a much higher level.

Ran was saying something to Sanzu but he was too lost in pleasure to even comprehend what the fuck he was talking about. His head was spinning from pleasure, god, you were taking him so well. “Mhm. You know what—ah! I don’t—oh fuck, Princess! I don’t even fucking care at this point, I’m hanging up.” Sanzu threw his head back in pleasure as he chucked his phone somewhere in the sheets but forgetting to actually end the call.

He couldn’t care less. He wanted your cum around his dick.

With the distraction at bay, Sanzu focused on you. Leaning down to suck on your breasts and neck as you panted below him, “Are you close, baby?” he gritted against your neck, jaw tightening at how tight you were around him. You frantically nodded, face contorted with pleasure and lips parted, letting out desperate high pitched whines, “I—ngh! I’m going to cum, Sanzu!” you cried out.

Sanzu leaned closer to your ear, “Fuck, that’s it, princess. Cum around my cock like the good girl you are.” he panted, his hot breath fanning against the side of your neck.

You arched your back in pleasure, chest pushing up against Sanzu’s as you moaned his name, followed by a string of profanities. Sanzu’s hips didn’t falter one bit, despite how tight you became as you clenched around him, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear and how much of a good girl you were for him as he rode out your orgasm.

“Ngh—ah! I’m so close.” Sanzu whined as he quickly pulled his cock out of you, desperately pumping it with his hand. He bucked his hips up at his hand and threw his head back with a loud groan as he cummed on your chest, his hands not slowing down to milk his cock down to every last drop.

You moaned at the sensation of his hot cum landing on you, arching your back to push your chest further toward him. Sanzu panted above you, seeing the way your body was decorated with his semen.

“We’re not done yet, baby.” he chuckled.

Before he could do anything, he heard his phone beep, like someone had just ended the call. Sanzu was surprised that Ran actually stayed that long in the call, he thought Ran would’ve ended it by the time he threw the phone elsewhere.

Sanzu was true to his words. He was not done with you until you were all spent and begging for him to stop, safe to say that you weren’t going to be walking properly anytime soon and that was fine by you, it was a Friday night anyway.

You lazily lounged on Sanzu’s couch, eating and mindlessly watching whatever programme was on the TV. You were currently waiting for Sanzu to get home, apparently he got called in for work even though it was a Sunday, but oh well. He also told you not to stay up too late and try wait for him but you were stubborn.

It was late in the evening and the programme that was on was the news channel, but you didn’t pay much attention to it and savoured the way your food tasted against your tongue. You could feel your eyes getting droopy by the minute but fought the urge to let sleep take over you.

“In tonight’s news, we now focus on the country’s most notorious crime syndicate, Bonten, as they continue to pose danger to the public… the people shown in this video clip are it’s executives and members…”

Instinctively, you looked up from your snack and towards the TV to see the footage of a white haired man walking and his back towards the camera. A particular design caught you off guard, it was the tattoo on the man’s nape that made you think for a while. His tattoo was of a hanafuda card that symbolised the full moon.

Have I seen that before? You thought.

You shook your head at the silly thought, how have you seen that tattoo before when the news reporter literally mentioned that it originated from the country’s most notorious crime syndicate. Surely if you were to come across a member of that crime syndicate, you probably wouldn’t even make it alive.

Trying to take your mind off the news, you switched the channel to a random one which happened to be a food channel, you could work with that. Your attention shifted over to the door, hearing it close and someone shuffling around.

Sanzu.

The man walked through the hallway, hanging his blazer on the coat rack and rolling his polo sleeves up, “Baby, what are you still doing up?” Sanzu sighed as he waltzed over to you, hands wide open to pull you into a hug. “I wanted to wait for you…” you mumbled into his stomach, the smooth material of his tuxedo vest rubbing against your face.

He rubbed your cheeks and smiled down at you, his eyes filled with genuineness, “I’ll just wash up real quick, okay?” You nodded and Sanzu gave you a soft peck on the forehead before heading for his bedroom.

You looked over his shoulder and trailed his figure that slowly disappeared into the hallway leading to his room, letting out a sigh you’ve been holding as you could feel your heart racing faster.

There were two things that stood out to you despite his dimly lit penthouse, the first one was the hanafuda card tattoo on his left forearm and the other was the ever so slightly spots of red on his sleeves but maybe your eyes played tricks on you for that one but you surely saw his tattooed left arm.

Your mind was quick to wander elsewhere, you didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe you were just overthinking it, maybe he just coincidentally got the same tattoo as the country’s most feared syndicate, surely, right?

Besides, the odds of becoming face to face with an executive of Bonten were practically zero to none. You lived a quiet life so there was no reason for you to even encounter a member, that’s right, your life was nothing but monotonous… until you met Sanzu.

Come to think of it, Sanzu never even told you where he worked or who he worked for. All you knew is that he was a busy man but still made time for you but this piece of missing information was enough to speculate. You knew it was wrong to accuse someone without hard, concrete evidence; innocent until proven guilty, your law professors taught you that.

But something inside you screamed to know the truth, you didn’t know how you’ll gain the information, surely not by walking up to him and going, “Hey, are you part of that crime syndicate called Bonten?”

Just then, a name suddenly popped up in your head. Sanzu mentioned a name two days ago during a call.

Haitani.

That name rang a bell to you but where have you heard it before? It took you a few minutes to ponder over the somewhat familiar name but it finally clicked. Haitani, that was the name you’ve heard a lot back when you were still working at the club in Roppongi. The club they owned. You didn’t know much about the name’s origin but you knew there were two of them and they basically ruled that district. Gang members.

It dawned upon you that Sanzu once mentioned that he knew the owner of the club when you first met him. It made sense. The dots all connected to one another but what were you exactly going to do?

You quickly turned the TV off and made your way to Sanzu’s bedroom, the shower was still running which indicated he was nowhere near being done. You walked into his room, your eyes immediately catching his unlocked drawer slightly ajar, the drawer that he always locked without fail, the one he always opened before he left early in the mornings.

Shallow breaths slipped past your lips as you nervously made your way toward it, taking cautious steps like something would jump out at you at any minute. Your hands nervously reached for the handle and pulled it, the loud creaking sound making you jolt.

A gun. All in its glory, lying right in the middle of the drawer and nothing else. The metal barrel shone under the bright lights of Sanzu’s bedroom, as if it was taunting you.

You took a few steps back, eyes widening at the dangerous weapon before your eyes. So many questions ran through your head and it also didn’t help the way your heart was beating faster than ever.

Your head snapped toward the bathroom door as Sanzu stepped out, damp rosy pink hair, exposed chest and grey sweatpants sitting dangerously low around his waist. His eyes darted between the unreadable expression in your face and the opened drawer, tilting his head slightly to the side, he looked at you with a weird glint in his eyes,

“Baby, has no one ever taught you not to go through things that aren’t yours?” His voice laced with venom as he took long strides towards you, his slender fingers making its way to your chin to firmly hold it in place.

Avoiding his eye contact, you muttered a small apology, closing your eyes which only made Sanzu smirk, “Guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson, huh?” Before you could say anything, he closed the gap between your lips, his other hand silently reaching for the 9mm in the drawer and placed it in his pocket. It wasn’t loaded, Sanzu knew better than to load his gun with bullets with you around his penthouse.

He backed you into the floor-to-ceiling glass before deepening the kiss; his kisses were rough and needy, the way his lips hungrily moved against yours told you that he was desperate. You didn’t hesitate to return his kiss in the same manner, your mind slowly forgetting about this whole thing but it was still there, in the back of your head, waiting to be unravelled.

Sanzu’s hand snaked inside your pants, giving tight circles around your clothed clit, causing you to moan into his mouth. He didn’t have to do much to get you dripping, after all, his light kisses and fingers were enough to have you begging on your knees for him. That was the effect he had on you, he was like drugs and you needed a dose of him everyday.

“You better be all ears for me, baby. I’m only teaching you this lesson once.”

In no time, you were out of your shirt as he turned your body around and pressed your exposed front against the cold surface of the glass, your breath immediately fogging it up. Sanzu trailed kisses down your nape and sucked at a spot on your back, earning a small moan from you. His hands wandered to your chest, each roughly massaging a breast, pulling and groping it.

“Mhm… Sanzu, please.”

Sanzu wasted no time to pull your pants down, slightly shivering at the sudden cool air that hit your exposed legs; he swiftly pulled his stiff cock out of his sweatpants and teased your wet folds through your panties. Your nails scraped against the smooth glass as Sanzu continued with his teasing, tears almost forming in your eyes at how turned on you were.

But he was just as horny as you, so he pushed your panties aside and slid his cock in, bottoming out in one go. You threw your head back against his shoulders, your hands balling into fists against the fogged up glass, “Hah, Sanzu!”

“Such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Sanzu chuckled, pulling out his unloaded 9mm and firmly pressing it against your neck, your walls tightly clenched around his dick at the cool sensation of the barrel against your skin, Sanzu also noticed this and from there on, he saw red.

He picked up his pace, hips roughly fucking up into you at the fastest pace he could possibly attain, “You like it when I use my gun on you? You like the thrill of that? What a fucking slut.” Sanzu whispered into your hair, teeth gritting at the way your walls deliciously hugged his cock, you were so tight that he literally had to let his mind wander somewhere else so he wouldn’t cum right then and there.

You could only moan at his questions, your breasts tightly pressing against the glass surface as your back arched due to Sanzu’s merciless hips. Nothing else was on your mind now, just his cock and the way he was hitting your g-spot with every single thrust of his hips.

His gun made its way to your lips, “Suck on it.” He demanded and you didn’t hesitate to open your mouth and place your lips around the tip of his gun, tongue swirling and sucking on it like it was Sanzu’s dick.

Sanzu cursed against your neck as he heard the wet squelches of your mouth working against his gun, the way your head desperately leaned into the 9mm as if you wanted more, the way you moaned around it the same way you would with his dick. His grip on the weapon tightened, fuck, you were so filthy.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Sanzu hooked his free hand on the back of your knee and brought it up against the glass, he was much deeper this time and it turned you into nothing but a teary moaning mess around his 9mm. You were so close to cumming.

High pitched whines escaped your lips every time his crotch slapped against your ass, there wasn’t anything you could do but fist your hands into the glass and moan against the weapon that he held up your lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Cum with me, princess…” Sanzu groaned, inhaling the scent of your hair as he sealed his eyes shut at the immense pleasure. He pushed his gun further into your mouth as you reached your orgasm, causing you to moan loudly and tightly clench around his dick, your legs shaking and nails scraping against the glass surface at the intense sensation you felt.

Sanzu stilled his hips as he came and roughly pushed his dick inside you, causing you tiptoe a bit. He moaned against your back, the grip around your knee tightening, a string of profanities slipped past his lips as you rode out his orgasm by clenching around him.

That night, Sanzu came clean to you. He was indeed part of Bonten and even had a high position as the second-in-command. He told you how you were free to terminate the contract between the two of you because he would understand the fear it instilled within you but he did let you know that he would make sure no harm would come your way, if you decided to stay.

It was pretty self explanatory about why he kept you in the dark about the truth about his job, but he also told you how you helped him take his mind off all the fucked up things he has done. That’s why he had no problem giving and spending large amounts of money on you, after all, it was just dirty money anyway. He figured he could at least put it to good use.

Sanzu has also opened up about how he had practically stopped popping pills left and right ever since he became your sugar daddy, it was a very different world with you, he felt emotions he’s never felt before and feelings he’s never had before.

The world with Bonten often left him feeling empty, a void where his heart should be that he filled by abusing drugs just to get a quick high to try and forget about the horrors of what he has done to innocent people.

You always thought that Sanzu being your sugar daddy only benefited you, but little did you know it actually benefited him more than you could imagine. You needed his money and he needed your company, you needed each other to get through life.

He asked you that night if you were still going to stay with him despite his criminal status.

If playing with fire was your only ticket to living the lavish lifestyle, then you wouldn’t hesitate dancing with the devil in disguise, also known as Haruchiyo Sanzu, Bonten’s second-in-command.

© mitsuyeaah

[gothamgf]

bleachers — s.es + l.cy

tags sports!riize basketball!eunseok fencer!eunseok fencer!reader anton!swimmer, college au, fluff, angst, slight nsfw, hurt/comfort

wc 14k

summary when twenty-five twenty-one meets challengers.

author's note each 🤺 is a time jump!

(apple music playlist)

(spotify playlist)

You afforded the front-row.

Yet, sat right under the nose bleeds. 

A coat of velvety darkness covered the Grand Palais, raising the public, and everyone involved’s pulses to its climax. 

The hall tensed in its fullness, gradually silencing itself. 

Each and everyone’s mouths watering for victory in the name of their country, loved ones, or themselves. 

Light beams shot out of nowhere, putting on a grand show for the beginning of the awaited event. 

The Men Fencing Finals at the Paris 2024 Olympics. 

🤺

BEEP

13-0

Coach Lee manifested every single muscle of hers to stop herself from letting out a loud sigh of disappointment. She knew she’d let it out in a few minutes anyway. The only thing comforting her sorrow in witnessing her own student fail so miserably, was you, her little « protégée ». 

It was your opponent’s fifth time of trying to quit the game ever since you’ve started playing. 

It was, in consequence, one of those days where you knew the real training would only come after hours, once you would beg your coach to play a real match against you. 

Only, one of you would always ask for a rematch, and a match point to determine who turned out to be the winner of whatever day it was. 

So, in the meantime, you’d become the distracted teenager you rarely allowed yourself to be. 

« Please coach, I’ll never be as fast as her, just let me train on the mannequin… » whined Aeri’s to the unimpressed olympian champion, fully knowing her request will be met with a stern negative response. Useless negotiations started, followed with a series of beginner-level advices. Well, not beginner-level, but certainly nothing a competitor for the national team should be listening to at the moment. 

You took their bickering as an opportunity to cool off, dropping your suffocating mask on the floor. You then opened your water bottle with quick dexterity, without ever letting your sword out of your grasp. You were seen without it so rarely, word spread that you slept and showered with it. The truth wasn’t that far. 

The voices of everyone in the gym were muffled as the second bell of the afternoon ringed, and chatter bloomed out of the school’s walls. Normally, you’d be on your way to close the windows, so that nothing could disturb the hours left of training. But your skin sprinkled in sweat, and the ongoing match required no real focus on either part whatsoever. 

So you stayed there, and kept on drinking, sun-kissed. 

When the breeze would stop blowing on your face, you’d immediately pray for more, and for 2023 to come faster. It would be your very first Asia Games, if you’d manage to qualify for it, and before that, if you’d manage to qualify for the Korean women’s fencing team.  

You knew you would. 

The mere thought of it made your stomach tie itself in impossibly tight knots. 

In the clouds, floated the white of your suit, tattooed of your name in the colors of your country. The wind whispered chants celebrating it, as well as your scores going high, point by point, pushing you towards victory. And in the blinding reflections of the high school building’s windows, millions of medals shined. Your mind already displayed them in your room, in which you left an empty wall since you were 7. 

Your bones shook with impatience. Two dozens of months, and you’d be there.

Palpable greatness. 

Life have never tasted any better than on a random Thursday afternoon of a long high school day. And your heart never felt any lighter than when you were full of youth, hope, and thirsty for victory. 

Arms crossed and wrapped on the windowsill, your body slouched on it, you quickly checked if the interrupting conversation was near to be over. You caught the coach fiercely teaching Aeri how to make convincing feints, as if she was teaching her a choreography. Aeri offered you a desperate smile, as you mouthed her encouraging words to lighten up her mood. She couldn’t do anything but sigh. You giggled and let your eyes wander back into the outside world. Your back straightened itself the second you saw the building you were secretly eyeing this whole time open up its doors. 

The basketball building.

At this hour, they were going to run a few rounds on the track field before going back to training in their gymnasium. 

It’s not that you memorized it on purpose, you just knew. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

The school’s team was so prestigious some of the students already had fan clubs within the school, and in other’s as well. It mainly consisted of little stickers of their favorite member’s number on the juniors’ lockers. Or, blocking entire days before their games to craft posters, decorations, and even merchandising. They swore it was to motivate them, but the « Marry Me Sungchan » cardboards told otherwise.

You thought it was all very silly, yet quite thrilling to have some of the « Riizing Boys » in your promotion. What a lie it would be to say none of them have tickled their way into your heart, but it would also take actual torture for you to admit it in front of your teammates. 

Your nose fully peeked out of the window when you watched the first tall guys step out. 

And there he was, Lee Anton, with his silver jersey and long tousled hair.

Your stomach tied itself in knots again as he looked back to the team, flashing them a million dollar smile, slowly jogging towards the track field, and warming-up his twisted body. Droplets already formed on his forehead as the unforgiving sun coated the giggling players.

Their happiness affected you. And perhaps, watching hot boys made life a little more worth living, or so your 18-year-old self thought. You also thought you were looking (oogling) at the team in its entirety, when a chestnut haired boy rushed to take place next to them on the starting line, their coach closing the door after him. He just wore a white t-shirt, and was definitely unfamiliar to you. 

He was new. 

And new is exciting. 

You kept watching him, comparing his physique with the other members, trying to figure out the sound of his voice and most importantly, what his face looked like. All of their broad backs and shoulders were turned to you, lowered to the ground, as they prepared themselves for the jog. You thought to yourself that they’d run fast enough for you to catch a glimpse of the new guy when they’d get closer to your window. 

But the whistle of their coach synchronized with yours, ripping you out of your reverie.

« Come on, let’s play again. » Coach Lee calmly ordered. « And remember Aeri, her muscles. Look at the way her muscles move, and anticipate your strike alright? »

Aeri nodded unconvincingly, knowing that it will be over in a few points anyway. She put on her helmet in a swift motion, seeming slightly more boosted than minutes ago. You, on the contrary, put a little more time to get ready. 

Your body might’ve been En Garde, but your mind was still on the track field, among the « Riizing Boys » and the faceless newbie. 

« Prêts? » Coach Lee exclaimed, her arms open on each side of her body.

The growing sound of the basketball teams’s step tangled with the sound of your own heartbeat. 

« Which club trains here? » A voice from outside the window asked.

You instinctively turned your head. 

« Allez! »

The new guy was looking at you.

And you were looking at him. 

BEEP 

13-1

🤺

The seat to your left was empty, whereas the one to your right was occupied by a pre-teen girl wearing both France and South Korea’s colors. You figured you’d find out who her hearts belongs to once the match would begin. 

« Now welcoming, France’s athlete : Yannick Borel ! » An automatic voice announced through the speakers.

The girl screamed as loudly as she possibly could.

You didn’t need to wait after all. 

The fencer’s walk was determined, slow and strong. The volume of the cheers made you slightly worry about the glass ceiling. You applauded still, feeling quite sorry in advance for the next athlete, knowing he won’t get half as much cheers as his opponent. 

You rapidly came to the realization that you might’ve under-estimated his popularity. The second his name was announced, you nearly jumped in surprise, hearing the girl next to you let out a inhumane screech. 

A sting that could not be stopped by any means attacked your heart as his name echoed through the Palace Hall. Huge screen glowed, his face and name plastered all over them, cheered in a country at the end of the world. Envy and pride fought within your overwhelmed soul, tied to him in ways that justified your presence here, as much as it made it questionable. 

« Now welcoming, South Korea’s athlete : Song Eunseok ! »

🤺

« Good session girls! » Coach Lee started cheering on to conclude the day. « Aeri, Manon and Y/N, it’s your turn to clean the room, I want to see my reflection on the floor tomorrow morning hm? Good night everyone, drink water and sleep for at the very least 9 hours, understood? »

You all agreed and greeted the coach back, as she left the gymnasium to her usual mantra. The doors were still clapping the wind when you rushed towards one of your juniors, begging her to trade your place this one time. 

This one time, and last week’s time. 

Promising her another autograph from Seunghan wasn’t enough, so the bid went up and your offer was now his signature on her sword. At this very moment, you finally understood what authors meant by « Her eyes glowed ». You took her struggle to say thank you as a « yes », and bowed to her appreciatively before rushing to the lockers. As you peeled your fencing suit out of your body and changed to your uniform, the note you received this morning fell on the floor. 

You got it during your French lessons with Mr. Vidal, half asleep and half drooling on the back of your hand. Your table mate gently tapped on your forehead, jolting you awake. Your beauty sleep, interrupted only for you to receive a crumpled piece of notebook that has been passed around from the very back of the amphitheater, where you felt a gaze burning through your nape. 

« Meet me at the bleachers. 

-seok »

And there you were, walking towards the blue bleachers as the Korean sun painted them orange. 

Again.

You saw his silhouette shaking two tiny strawberry yakults, the straws already planted on both of them. Your pearly eyes glowed from miles away. 

Excitement from meeting up with his new friend energized him, as if the previous 8 hours of intensive training vanished right there and then.

« No fancy fencing outfit today? » He playfully asked, carefully watching you climb up the stairs, two by two. 

« And hopefully you have your own jersey now? » You cheekily replied as you remember teasing him for always training in what seemed to be the same white t-shirt.

« I still can’t decide on a number… » He replied, lying through his teeth, both of you knowing the truth. He was still on a trial period.

« Well, what’s your birthday? » You plopped next to him, downing the strawberry milk as if you haven’t drank in years. 

« 19 and 03 are taken… » He dramatically sighed, taking a sip out of his. 

« Well… Speaking of 03… » Your interest spiking as soon as you heard Anton’s jersey number. Your back straightening itself on its own. 

Eunseok contained a smile, throwing his sport bag onto his lap. You stopped breathing as soon as you took a glimpse at the silver fabric shining inside. He paused, and lifted the jersey to your face. 

« AAAH! » You loudly gasped. 

« SHH! » He hushed you, trying so hard not to laugh at you. « They’re still inside the gymnasium, oh my God… you’re insufferable… » 

Fan-girling sounds escaped out of your bouncing body. The peak of excitement and joy plastered all over your face, as rarely as you expressed it. 

The truth was that, selling your youth to your sport built walls around you, which made building meaningful, yet carefree friendships close to impossible. Your teammates seemed to be your friend group, from the outside. But the giddying, feet kicking and giggling teenager you knew you were, only ever existed within the four walls of your bedroom. You’ve journaled about how lonely it was to have no girl sitting cross-legged at the end of your bed, ranting, from sunset to sunrise. 

Such is the cost of being so excellent in your discipline. 

No one seeks friendship in a playground foe. 

Good thing Eunseok had no wishes to challenge you. Or at least, without a sports career, or a scholarship at stake. 

Turned out 18 days of makeshift apprenticeship were enough for you to build the type of connexion you’ve longed for, since forever. It broke through the walls of youthful insecurity and shyness the day he caught you cleaning up the fencing studio on your own. 

You were on the third part of your sold out concert, the imaginary crowd going wild as you crossed the stage doing tricks with your broom turned microphone, turned guitar. Closed windows muffled the sound of your favorite band blasting through the stereo, as it has countless times before. There were no blinds, however, that could hide the silhouette of your body following severals choreographies for half an hour. 

Especially, from the late jogger on the tracking field. 

You remember feeling as if you’ve jumped to the roof when he knocked on the glass, teeth showing through his wide smile, framed by glistening cheekbones. The highest level of shame took over your whole being, immediately assuming he was about to make you the joke of his entire time here. Or worse, he would act as if you’ve never existed. 

In reality, he just mouthed for you to open up. You did, reluctantly so, fully aware of how cruel boys could be.

« There’s a duo part coming after, right? » He asked, nodding his head to the rythm, waiting for the said part. He sang it, as passionately as he could, not a single note of his, on key. He tilted his head waiting for you to hop on the duet. 

Not once did he offer you mockery coated side-eyes. 

No. He was all friendship, dimples, and love for One Direction.

Finding comfort in each other so rapidly, bloomed doubts on what truly lied within your heart. 

It was no difficult thing to admit that you have never wondered if there wasn’t a bit of attraction between the two of you. Though, the mere reminder of Lee Anton’s existence, made every single man that you have ever known disappear from the surface of Earth. 

So yes, when Eunseok held his promise of getting you one of his jersey’s in exchange of clandestine fencing lessons, your heart pounded its way out of your ribs. 

« Thank you, Thank you, Thank you !! » You beamed at him, diving into a hug. 

« You know » He started in a slightly strained voice, his hands ghosting over your back « Don’t freak out but, » He paused. « I told him it was for you. »

The summer breeze suddenly chilled your nape, down to the bottom of your back. Waves of embarrassment as strong as this could break down cruising ships in seconds. 

Your bodies automatically distanced themselves, as your expression died. 

« What. » You barely muttered. 

« Yeah… he’s a bit over his jerseys going to high schoolers and juniors he doesn’t know and stuff. I had to tell him but… » 

You cut him right there. « You couldn’t lie? You couldn’t say it was for your little sister or like, anyone else but me? »

You stared at a piece of void in horror. It creeped. The slow realization that all of the chances, as small as they were, with your first college crush definitely turned into dust creeped on you. You were just a fan now, to him. You asked yourself why you would ever trust a man to be your wingman when you let your face rest on your palms. 

Eunseok’s smirk haven’t left his face, though. « Can you let me finish? »

You didn’t respond. 

He sighed at how dramatic you were acting, in his opinion. « When I told him it was for you… » 

He paused. « He actually looked… quite happy about it. »

🤺

2-2

No weapons were allowed in the arena, but if anyone had a knife, they could easily cut through the tension that vibrated in the air. Waves from chatter to silence formed in between points, helping out the fencers to filter out their thoughts. Song Eunseok’s were now racing with heavy, borderline abusive motivations to create a gap of points between him and Yannick Borel. 

There were few things he hated more than equalizing point with his opponent. The idea of utter loss, a silver medal, caused by a single point could make him go feral. 

But now was no time to go feral. 

Now was the time to place his feet apart from each other. To flex his knees, bend his sword and agitate it out of habit. To then giggle his arms, one last time, and wait for the referee’s voice to echo through his mic. 

He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second and felt the tingle of his opponent’s last strike on him. 

The fourth right rib. He would try to hit here again. And he knew just how to keep him from doing that.

« En Garde. »

You were sitting at the edge of your seat, his hate for equal scores coming from you. You, who couldn’t help but hope for your late night lessons from 4 years ago to still be tattooed in his mind. 

« Prêts ? »

All the sweat you poured until the school’s track fields’ lights went out, and your only way back home was from his passenger seat. Those trainings he paid with inviting you to his court, only so you could flirt with his curly-haired teammate. 

BEEP 

Your youth together.

You hoped he didn’t forget your youth together. 

2-3

It was like watching the two of you dance again. 

🤺

« There’s no way I can jump that high » You stated in defeat, breaking your neck from looking at the hoop. 

« Are you kidding? I saw you correct the cheerleaders’ choreo the other day… »

You shushed him, partly amused and partly annoyed from shooting only three scores since you’ve started training with him. It has been 2 weeks. 

Nothing was at stake there, no career, no scholarship, or not even a trophy. But the frustration of doing so many so mistakes when you were more than used to being excellent, couldn’t be helped. Especially since Eunseok has proven himself to be quite a fast learner from your not so amateur fencing sessions. 

« Let’s do it together one more time, hm? » He offered, clearly sensing your growing frustration. 

You nodded, eyes closed, gathering every ounce of focus that was left in your body. 

Why where you there when Anton was nowhere to be seen anyway?

When you felt ready, you looked to your side, ready to mimic Eunseok’s movements as you have done countless times before. 

But you’ve turned your head to nothing. 

A breath ghosted over your neck. 

Fingertips on your left wrist, and a palm on your hip. 

« Bend your knees. » He softly spoke. 

The phrase ran twice, or thrice in your head before you actually registered and executed it. Your body temperature shifted, hoping it went unnoticed. And before you could form any other thought, his whole body stretched yours out towards the hoop. You automatically jumped, but he stayed on the ground, his hands now both pushing on your under arms. He boosted your jump, practically lifting you like you weighed nothing. You nearly screamed out of fright from the sudden gain of height. 

« Shoot ! » He shouted, shattering the blossoming tension. 

You did, and you scored, and you laughed, and he laughed. And coming down from the height, only made your excitement and adrenaline jump through the roof. Once you calmed down to your senses, you teasingly hit him with the ball instead of celebrating.

« Amazing shot, champ, how did you that? » He sarcastically chuckled, resting his hands on his knees. 

You couldn’t help but think he was probably wiping off your arm-pit sweat from his palms.

« It’s called talent. » You breathlessly replied, plopping down on the floor with your legs splayed out. 

« That’s a real basketball player answer there, you might get qualified for the team before me."

« I’m no real basketball player, though. » You stated, cutting out whatever game you were both playing at. « I literally have to be your puppet to score. »

« Were you having fun? » He asked, « Being my puppet? »

« Well, even though I didn’t ask to be… » You looked up at him, the spotlights making his traits manlier than you were used to see. « Yeah. » 

He collected the ball from the floor, dribbling it for a few seconds before effortlessly scoring, looking right into your eyes. « Then you’re a real basketball player. » 

« So fucking cheesy… » You sighed, smiling to the ground.

Half an hour later, Eunseok was mopping the squeaky court as he waited for your « just got home » text. He would usually enjoy some music while cleaning, just like you did. But that day was for racing thoughts, and the squelch of his soapy mop on the wooden floor was just what he needed as a background sound. The way he touched you earlier haven’t quite left his mind. Before that, he had never tried to initiate anything physical with you. But you always did. Pressing on his abs and back muscles to help him have good fencer posture. Or wrapping your fingers around his to teach him how to have a solid, yet, swift hold on her backup sword. Like any good coach would.

Eunseok kept rummaging his thoughts about how he held you today, if you perhaps thought it was too much, or if you thought nothing of it. He saw the goosebumps rise from under your skin, though. And he felt it heat up. 

« Someone’s in love… », Sohee said from the swinging doors. 

Eunseok’s heart jolted, his body remained unmoved. He eyed his smirking teammate from the reflection on the huge window in front of him. « The hell are you even doing here? »

« Not flirting with Y/N L/N, what about you? » He sarcastically replied, crossing his arms. 

Despite the slipperiness of the floor, Eunseok raced towards him, screaming incoherent things to his youngest. Their improvised game of tag, giggling from the sights of each other’s bouncing hair, made the previous teasing dust up in the records of history. 

« Just admit it, you have a thing for Anton’s girl. » Sohee exclaimed with a loud smile on his freckled face. 

Hearing that incorrect way of describing you made him icky, for a reason he was only admitting to himself, for now. Eunseok ran faster, shouting a childish « Hey! », Sohee finally within his reach, when his phone vibrated against his clothed thigh. He automatically stopped in his tracks, right after jumping over the benches. His friend’s eyes sparkled with thirst for drama, the sight of Eunseok’s lighted up smile ready to be spread in future gossip sessions. 

But Eunseok, as blissful as he could be, kept blushing at your awaited notification. 

It was followed by a messy, half asleep goodnight text. To which he replied : 

⌈ Sweet dreams, Y/N. ⌋

His finger hovered over the send button. Was it Sohee’s defying look over his phone that made him send this all or nothing second text? Or was it because he came to the realization that he didn’t like the fact that « Anton’s girl » could soon be a very correct way of describing you ? 

It was up to your interpretation anyway. Perhaps, it would mean nothing to you. 

So he sent :

⌈ ❤️ ⌋

Like any good friend would. 

🤺

It has only been 6 minutes since the match has started. Six terribly long minutes of observing your college’s best friend compete in the most important match of his life, with only yourself to debate or cheer with.

The time on your phone was rarely left unchecked, as for your watch, it would be the next second, as if time went by faster on the latter. There was a fencing olympic finale entertaining you, and a chanting crowd to follow along to. Nevertheless, pure loneliness bubbled right inside of you, perched with thousands of sports fans.

It was never lonely down there, you reminisced. 

A goal in mind, a weapon in hand, and a person to dance with was all you ever needed to feel fulfilled. To feel happy. 

You’d search for your partner’s sweet spot until they’d succeed to your teasing touches. 

Growing tensions, magnifying attractions, and the electronic sounds of the scores accumulating turning into music. There would be a moment in which both of you would understand each other completely, the map of each your souls clearly traced in the lines of your body. 

Synchronization. 

Harmony. 

The common folk mostly thought of fencing only as competition and infliction of pain. A deadly duel, resulting into a victor and a loser. But beneath the protective gear, and under the pulsing pearly skin of fencers, lied infinite pleasure. 

For both players.

And sometimes, even for the referee.  

Fencing was all about mutual connexion, understanding, and love.

And all of that came with patience, which left your body each an every minute there, sitting with a crowd that didn’t know Song Eunseok like you did. 

Nor the secret stake of the match.

That’s what, partly, justified your loneliness.

You hoped he didn’t feel any of that loneliness, as well. 

Because if he did, if he wasn’t having any fun, he would 100% lose. 

He took off his mask, strong breathes huffing out of his chest, as he waited for the referee’s verdict. He couldn’t help but twist the sweat off his pink glossy lips, lick them and bite them. 

The anticipation that grew within you, and your misplaced curiosity for his freshly licked lips, made you react a little later than you should have when you heard footsteps approaching you. 

There’s a hand on the crook of your neck. 

« So sorry my love, some fans wanted pictures. » Anton breathlessly whispered in your ear, before kissing it.

🤺

City lights shimmered all over the floor you slowly walked on. Your teammate’s complaints were muffled by the sound of your own troubles fogging your brain. There were no words to describe how much you loathed doing bad performances. 

And your coach pretending like it wasn’t the case. 

And the fact that the only thing keeping you away from being better, was your mental state. 

And your mental state, being the way it was because of a guy. 

Anton hadn’t talked to you today. 

You wore his jersey, today.

Embarrassment grew each and every time you felt a stare a second too long on the shining letters on your back. You’ve never wanted to hide under your epidermis more than when you walked by the team’s table at lunch, and received a glance, but no smile from him. 

It could have been just that, until the most irritating chuckles made their way into your ears, coming from their way.

If you could’ve died right there, it would have been a miracle. 

And if your sword could actually kill, Eunseok’s head would’ve been on a spike. 

Well, truth was that your mental state was that way, because of two guys.

It could also only be because of today’s treason, but it wasn’t.

Eunseok hasn’t left your mind a single day since you’ve met. 

It has been three months, now. 

Spring was ending, now. 

Your friendship grew out of the school’s walls with goodnight texts, stretching into nightly, hours long conversations. Your thumbs would get sore from all the texting, so it shifted to calls. And video calls. During the weekends, too. 

Eunseok then swore you needed to practice your shoots on your days off as well. He happened to have a park with a hoop, right at the end of the street in which he lived. So you met up there, every Saturdays, and practiced. 

He’d always drive you back home if those sessions, that eventually turned in gossip sessions, lasted until nighttime. 

Until one day, when his older brother went on a trip with his car.

There were no buses anymore, and your parents have had a little drink. 

Moments later, you left your shoes next to his by the entrance, ate with his parents and baby brother, saw Eunseok under his dining’s room light, and brushed your teeth next to him, laughing at the huge foam around his mouth.

His mother’s smell was all over your skin and hair when you got out of the shower. 

His own smell embraced you when you dived into his previous basketball team’s jersey. 

And being there, all up in his brother’s sheets, with his father snoring in the other room, scared you. It scared you because you felt like you could get used to this. 

Your lids grew heavier, as you silently wished to get used to it.

You opened them back up when your phone lit up by your face. 

« I have popcorn. » Eunseok had texted you. 

You didn’t need more to be tiptoeing to his bedroom.

« I’m out of here by 3 am, understood? » You warned him as you quietly closed the door behind you, knowing that it might cause trouble to be found here in the morning. He solemnly nodded, before breaking into a grin as he watched you get comfy by him, against his headboard.

Hours after demolishing the popcorn bag, you were still there, sharing life stories in the dark, from the funniest to the most unspeakable ones. You told him about how you puked on yourself after your first kiss, and he told you about all the nasty things he had seen in the showers of all the sports teams he had been in. He swore he hadn’t participated, but he gave away way too much details. 

It was way past the bedtime both of you knew you wouldn’t respect anyway, when he decided to put on one of your favorite animated movie on his laptop. Your reciting of the lines became more and more incoherent, and he spent more and more time watching you flutter your eyelashes shut.

You fell asleep to the feeling of Eunseok’s fingers waltzing on your temple, and woke up in his brother’s bedroom. 

« Do you speak French in your sleep because of fencing, or because of Ratatouille ? » He had asked you the next day, watching you wash your face through the bathroom mirror.

All of this shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, you thought. 

You were just happy to get closer to your friend, you thought. 

You were like brothers and sisters now, you thought.  

Replaying this in your head has made you oddly silent, as you kept on walking among your teammates. You were so silent, you started to recognize the now very familiar sound of a basketball rapidly bouncing, then clashing against the metal outdoor hoop.

« Oh, Guys, I forgot something at the gym. » You lied to the group of gasping girls. « You guys can go ahead. See you tomorrow! »

You rapidly pretended to walk back, immediately missing the shelter of Aeri’s umbrella as they cheerfully waved to you. Seeing their giggling backs under the rain made you wish to make more efforts to befriend them. An inexplicable rush of nostalgia washed over you, as raindrops coated your scalp. You were in your feels. And going to investigate towards the small court wasn’t going to help anything, no matter who was dramatically shooting hoops under the rain. 

It could’ve been one of the guys you were desperate to avoid tonight. 

Though, you couldn’t help but hope it was one of them.

You took a turn and quietly walked towards the huge white hoodie, cutting the mystery short.

« Think you’re Troy Bolton or something? » you teasingly asked. You knew better than to be mad at him off the start, even though you truly were. 

Eunseok turned around, missing the point he was about to miss anyway.

The fruit of his restless thoughts materialized before him. 

If you thought you were going mad over your sleepover at his’, it was solely because you knew nothing of how much it ran him, truly crazy. 

He introduced you to his parents, picked you up when you were sleeping, smelt your morning breath, and have spent, since then, hours to think about the next time he could have you that way again. Without acting like the worst, traitor, dipshit friend ever.

You were slowly tearing him into pieces, with no one but Sohee as a witness. 

The abandoned ball wasn’t bouncing off the floor nearly as fast as your pounding hearts. 

« If you consider yourself Gabriella, then it should be Anton’s role. » He stated, leaning down to pick it up. His tone ended up being colder than both of you expected it to be. 

« I’m not really sure he’d like to be my Troy anyway… » You scoffed, crossing your bare forearms. « But you all could be a little less cruel about it. » You then spat at him, slightly ashamed. 

He stopped in his motions, his back facing you. « What are you even talking about? »

You huffed a laugh, the frustration turning into a lump of sorrow in your throat. Have boys always been this oblivious to the fucked up things they do? « You know exactly what I’m talking about. » 

« No, I don’t actually. I don’t know, Y/N. » He turned to face you, jaw clenched. « And you really need to stop playing around, especially now. » He bitterly added. His tone was filled with despise, as if he was grounding some naughty spoiled kid. It vexed you.

« Is it not playing around when you let me hope that he likes me ? And proceed to then laugh at me, with him, behind my back? » You shouted, taking a few steps towards him, wondering where his common sense possibly went.

You didn’t mean for your voice to crack so easily. And you were pissed at his confused, twisted eyebrows under his wet strands of hair. 

« Lunch? Today? » You tried to refresh his memory. 

His expression shifted. A defeated smirk threatened to mark his face, as he slowly made the wet ball bounce from one of his hands to the other. 

« I can assure you, we weren’t laughing at you. » He calmly stated, now taking in your shivering form from under the flickering lamp post. 

You sighed out a big chunk of air, with closed eyes and your head held up high. Was it out of relief, annoyance or, as a way to relax your severely tensed muscles? You couldn’t tell, at all. 

But you knew what you felt. You felt sick of fighting the very person you’d go to when days were as shitty as today. 

So you decided to trust his words, though it felt too early to fully believe in them.

 « Whatever. He didn’t even talk to me today. » You muttered.

If this had happened a few weeks before, Eunseok would have confessed that the team was laughing at Anton’s reddening ears to the sight of you, proudly walking with his name on your back. 

However, whatever reason that was making him pull a dry sweater from his sports bag, was making him keep it all to himself. 

« You can’t afford to catch a cold, champ. » He softly spoke, as he stood up, closed the gap between you, and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

« So can’t you. » You replied, looking up to his face. He covered the top of yours with the hood of his sweater, slid his hands on your shoulders, and left them there. 

It wasn’t his first time taking the time to explore the map of your face. He retraced it all, meanwhile you felt like a first time explorer. The lamp-post lighting softly bounced of his high cheekbones, and made his earring shimmer. You couldn’t make up the sweat sliding down his forehead from the raindrops drenching him, in all places. From his ridiculously big eyes and lashes, to his puckered pouty lips, passing by his straight nose bridge, he was glowing. 

He was beautifully glowing. 

Your focus went back down his mouth. You blinked, a lot. You swore it was moving a second ago. But it wasn’t anymore. 

He had just finished talking and you haven’t heard a thing. 

« Sorry what did you say? » You asked, coughing your way out of awkwardness. 

He swallowed down a now flustered smirk and replied in all seriousness. « Our coach. He’s involved with a bribing case. » 

It took you a second too long to recover from your previous embarrassment, and register the dramatic information you have just gotten. « What? » You finally exclaimed.

« Yeah. » He looked down, your saddened expression pulling him back through the same deception he had faced earlier. «The headmasters were quick to announce that there would be no actually good replacement for the rest of the year though. Some are staying, some are switching sports, and others are switching… schools. » He sighed. He also remembered how hard he had gasped when Shohei, the one guy he was the most excited to train with, announced him that he’d fly out to Japan to have a chance at his dream basketball team. 

He paused, and half heartedly chuckled, « I wasn’t even selected so my choices are… Thin. That’s why I’m here. Stress-releasing. » He freed your shoulders of his tender grasp, burying his freezing hands in his hanging jogger’s pockets. 

You’ve let the rain wash over you for a moment, watching Eunseok’s gaze empty itself. You, quite selfishly, mentally placed yourself in his shoes. You knew you’d have gone bat-shit crazy if you were left with the choices of making a drastic change in your life in order to keep chasing after your dreams, or abandoning them completely. In your golden age. Just because of a man. 

Your heart broke for the promising athlete before you. 

It broke for your best friend. 

« God… » You gasped in horror. « I can’t even… begin to imagine how hard that must be for you.»

« For all of you. » You added, Anton coming to your mind, and his, to his own demise.

He dropped his head and bitterly nodded to your statement. As you watched him stand there thoroughly defeated and fighting tears, you’ve found yourself powerless, and lacking of words strong enough to provide him any satisfying reassurance. So, you instinctively reached for his head and placed it on your shoulder, like he would do when you’d fail anything, from getting Anton’s attention, to exams. 

His arms immediately wrapped around your back and waist for warmth, comfort, anything, like a man starved. He had convinced himself that you were going to turn into sand if he didn’t hold you tightly enough, hence the grip he had on you, that, despite yourself, made your face flush warm against his wet, cold body. The sound of the raindrops hitting his nape made you shiver for him. You attempted at covering it with your hand, but was rather caressing the small parcel of skin. 

You weren’t deaf to the sound of his breathing losing its regularity, though. 

Added up to his chest, beating against yours, his heart was helplessly finding ways of digging its way down your ribcage.

You liked the feel of it, though. 

So you held him tighter, too. 

« You really need to stop playing around. » He whispered, right into your ear.

« What are you talking about? » You softly spoke, right back into his ear.

He took another deep breath before his palms found their way onto your hips. He unglued your body from his, watching you look up at him with a puzzled, yet dazed look. « You think the coach’s thing is the only stressing me out? »

The world consisted only of the raindrops sliding off your huffed out bodies, and the lamp-post illuminating you. An aura surrounded the man, through your blurry, rained on gaze. 

« I like you, Y/N. »

There was no time for another thought to be formed in your mind before he leaned in to kiss you.

Song Eunseok kissed you.

His lips on yours were gone as quickly as they’ve landed. Your next view were the droplets free falling from his eyelashes. Behind them, secretly lied a gaze you mentally ordered yourself to memorize forever. You weren’t sure if it was love, though. Because how could you be sure of feeling an emotion you’ve never encountered before? And where were the fireworks that the stories you’ve been fed with your entire life have promised you?

You didn’t hate it. 

Whatever you felt, you wanted to feel more of it. 

He watched you reach for the back of his head with one hand, and the side of his neck with the other. He watched you lift yourself on your tippy toes, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

You planted a new kiss on his wet lips. Only, you felt like you couldn’t get enough of of it. 

Eunseok swore he could taste victory better on your lips than on any of the trophies he had left a peck on. He anchored you to him when he felt your toes struggling to stand still. And he prayed, to all of the higher forces that could exist, to make the moment last as long as possible. 

Not a single ounce of lust seeped through the near-divine kiss you shared, even after your tongues have exchanged many caresses of their own. 

Both of you found your opponents there, kissing like you fenced, wondering if each of your physical encounters would end up feeling so familiar. 

Him, strategically attacking you with an unsettling force. 

You, brutally uncovering all of his weaknesses after studying his every moves. 

Everything that your unsatisfied, complexed selves have been craving for, you ended up founding in the warmth of each your own dearest friend’s.

Your phone lit up once in your back pocket, but you couldn’t care less about anything else that wasn’t Eunseok eating your mouth open. His large cold hands slid their way down there, with the pretext of protecting themselves in said pockets. Your phone vibrated once again, and he felt it too. 

« Duty calls? » He whispered against your lips, both of yours covered in spit and fucked out smiles.

You scoffed, punched his forearm as a punishment for his wandering hands, and dived back into the kiss you started missing the second you left it. 

His stupid smile couldn’t be forced out of his lipgloss smeared lips as he lazily kept on kissing you, too. 

He was on cloud nine. It was so grossly obvious. Yet, thinking about all the time he had spent fancying you, made you want to kiss him a little harder. 

If it weren’t for the third, infuriating vibration against your butt-cheek, you would have been glued to his lips until sunrise. 

You reached for your phone in your back pocket, while he made your head rest on his chest to shelter you. He covered your phone and the top of your head with his hand, too, as it lat up your chest. It lat up Anton’s jersey.

The mere sight of it made it harder for him to swallow remains of your saliva. 

He innocently thought the notifications were just from your dad cockblocking him. 

But it would be underestimating his friends’ power over you. 

Plus, you were staring at your phone’s notifications center for way too long.

⌈ Lovely outfit today. ⌋

⌈ Would you wear it again Friday night? ⌋

⌈ I want to take you out, Y/N. ⌋ 

The inevitable smile that creeped on the lips he had just kissed, made his heart bleed to fatality. 

🤺

Eunseok just lost a point. 

Anton’s hand was still glued to your shoulder, even after dozens of people crossed lengths of bleachers, hopping over strangers’ knees, just to have the privilege of sharing a picture with him. You were rarely invited in them though, or acknowledged at all. Knowing your spotlight-craving nature, you were surprisingly unbothered by your partner’s new surge of fame. 

In fact, it made you love him more. You once shamelessly admitted to your girl friends how one’s sportsmanship could determine your attraction, and feelings for them. 

The more medals someone would win, the more points they’d win to get you. 

Anton cracked the code when he first tasted your lips, right after he beat his personal record for the 200M Freestyle in the selections for the school’s swim team. You celebrated in the very same pool he had newly decided to offer his body to, arms wrapped around his soaked shoulders, sharing wet, languorous kisses and splashed giggles. 

He couldn’t get enough of the way your face would lit up after each and every prizes he would bring home over the years. 

So he kept swimming. 

And kept winning. 

Just to come back to you, forget it all and drown in your eyes again. 

Your eyes happened to be just enough for him to be here, in Paris, collecting gold medals like pebbles. The last three days all ended with your most cherished trophy coming running over to you, spinning you around, feeding on the laughter and cheers he swam to win all along. 

His addiction to the proud look plastered all over your face whenever you glanced at him could have got him banished from competitions.

He once pillow-talked to you about his theory of your past lives, being that he once was a greek athlete, a pioneer olympian, that only competed in worship of you. He kissed each of your knuckles afterwards, and later that day, came back with your initial added in one of the Olympic rings tattooed on his right bicep.

He sat down, finally free of his whispered meet and greet, kissed your shoulder, and turned his focus back on the match, almost forgetting the bitter taste of his presence there. He grounded himself by firmly holding your knee, as the bleachers suddenly felt too high for him. 

You, however, were almost annihilated by the game, wondering just how will Eunseok get his point back. You were almost starting to get upset by it. By everything mad that has ever happened to you, too. You thought it boiled down, the resurfacing anger from the day he decided to switch schools without telling you.

Was it really resurfacing anger, though, when it has been burning your guts every single day since 2017? 

Will it ever truly leave you, when the mere thought of fencing makes you feel 18 and abandoned again? 

Will you ever be at peace with the man you were cheering for, next to the man you shared keys with? 

🤺

You were sending undelivered texts to Eunseok with your right hand, and holding your new boyfriend’s arm with the left one. 

« You should eat, it’s going cold. » Anton told you, softly shimmying your cheek out of his shoulder. 

You absently nodded, not even bothering to straighten up and pretending to obey. Every single soul around the table could see your mind wandering elsewhere, but they had much more interesting topics to focus on. Like practice, competitions, and Asia Games. All of their non-athlete friends and lovers barely kept it together as they felt like their heads were going to explode from hearing too much sporty non-sense. Even though you have finally acquired your title of « Riizing Boys’ Girlfriend, » you weren’t quite included in the second bubble of conversation that formed over lunch. No, you preferred having one with the ghost of your true first kiss who has decided to vanish from the surface of earth four days ago. 

Your messages delivered, though, four days sooner.

Your concern for his absence seemed to torment no one else but you. Anytime you’d ask one of his ex-teammates, their reply would leave you even more lost and confused. You have stopped interrogating the team after the third player, Wonbin, « jokingly » replied he must’ve been sick of being around you every day. But also, to not raise any suspicion on the fogged up nature of your friendship. 

Anton had gained your attention once again, asking you to eat once again, but the very little appetite you had was definitely lost when you saw your text bubble switch to green, in the corner of your eye. 

There was no way.

You quietly excused yourself out of the table, as discreetly as you could. 

However, your discretion happened to not have gone unnoticed by Sohee, who followed your steps right after unwrapping his arm around his emo brunette girlfriend’s shoulders. 

Your lonesome session of deeply inhaling the fading spring’s breeze was cut short by him walking up to you, burying the worry that crushed him in his huge jean’s pockets.

« It kills me to see you like this. » He simply stated.

You were taken aback by it, as you weren’t that close to him. 

But Eunseok is, or was. 

You smiled, and assured him that you were fine through your knotted throat. 

« No you’re not. » He sighs, his gaze fixated on your unevenly concealed eye-bags. « Listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this but I will anyway. My girl keeps telling me how bad it is to keep that away from you, and fuck it, she’s right. » 

You braced yourself, arms crossed, and nodded. « What’s up? »

 « Anton doesn’t know either though… » He added, before looking around and leaning towards you. 

Seconds later, you are hit with the news that scooped the ground right off your feet.

Not by surprise, because you expected it. 

You saw it coming like a lunge.

And there was no way to avoid the deadly strike, and scar it left on your poor self. 

Eunseok left to study in Japan. 

And broke contact with you.

4 years later

March 2021

« Are you sure you’re okay? » Jimin asked, as you were losing a third point into your first practice game of the day. 

You nodded, out of breath, admitting to your years-long opponent that your entire body was particularly sore today. 

She snatched her mask off, revealing a smirk curving her glossy lips « Oh right, it was Anton’s birthday yesterday, I almost forgot. »

You teasingly attacked her with your sword, shushing her up from revealing a half-truth. All three of her strikes have hit marked spots from the night before, you kept having stomach butterflies-inducing flashbacks of. What has gotten into him, you wondered, reminiscing the way your hip bones knocked on the kitchen counter, bathroom sink, and shower wall, all in an impossibly short span.

The other source of your lack of focus was not so thrilling. It was quite the opposite, since it actually terrified you, since you’ve listened, in disbelief, to your college best friend’s whereabouts on the radio. Hearing about it against your will for the past couple of years have made your grieving journey harder than it should’ve been. Four years, in which you’ve entered your twenties, moved in with your college crush, integrated the National Fencing team, adopted a kitten, and buried gold fishes have passed. Four years of secretly scrolling through Japan’s national fencing team social media posts, under Anton’s spoon, lullabied by his soft snoring. 

You hated yourself for it, though. 

But no hate you could feel against someone could possibly surpass the one you felt for Eunseok. 

Which is why you nearly crashed yourself into a tree when you heard the reason your coach was about to gather your team in the conference room. 

Song Eunseok has come back home. 

Neither did the radio host’s or your coach’s voice have made it real enough for you to believe it.

It wasn’t until he walked in under camera flashes that you’ve felt it. 

Everything. 

You felt everything come back. 

The creaking sound of the bleachers under your youthful laughs. The strawberry milk flavored, moonlit practices. The soaked kiss. His brother’s sheets and his mother’s shower gel. 

And the pain, the agonizing, visceral pain of everything being ripped out of your life on a random Thursday. 

Once the white blocky flashing lights stopped concealing the face that was once your home, you were hit with the stupid realization that, that man was your first love. 

As he blinked the lingering blindness, he looked for your face in the seated crowd.

And when he did find you, he smiled. 

He smiled at you, offering you nothing but friendship and dimples. 

As if it was enough. 

As if stupid dimples were enough to forgive leaving you in the other side of the sea, for a stupid sport. For your stupid sport. 

You couldn’t stand any of the bullshit he was standing on. You were mad, mad enough to leave the room, not as discreetly as you once did.

How dared he come back bothering the peace you have worked so hard to build, after he had so easily destroyed it? How could he smile so prettily for the cameras, knowing the one person he should be apologizing to on his knees is standing right there, apology-less? How could he not learn from his errors, and warn you this time? 

The walls of what you called home more than the one you shared with your boyfriend, suffocated you for the very first time. So you left them, and drove. And you could’ve gone to the warmth of Anton’s arms, of your bed or of your bathtub. 

But your mind longed for stress-relief, instead of relaxation. 

Although, your tensed and sore body screamed for the latter.

« Practice starts in an hour, alright? » Sohee stated, leaning on the door’s frame, the same worried expression frowning his youthful face.

Maybe, it was your heart that made you stand in front of a hoop.

« I’ll let Anton know you’re here » he added to deaf ears before leaving you, as you already started to loudly dribble the heavy ball on the shining wooden ground of the Seoul’s Basketball Team’s practice room.

You thought you were strong enough to feed your mind with thirst for scoring points, without ever drifting to Eunseok’s lips pressed against your ear, teaching you how to win. 

As you failed yet another shot, you also thought of the fact that you have never gotten close to winning against him in his discipline, when you have once shared a 9-15 points combat. 

He had been lying, you were just now realizing, dribbling away your confusion, making sense of the late epiphany you were now having. 

He didn’t approach you to teach him fencing. 

He wasn’t a genius, nor a fast-learner as he repeated. 

He already knew how to play. 

There just wasn’t any male fencing team.

And he just wanted to spend time with you. 

You scored. 

You were his first love, too. 

You picked up the ball, and scored again. 

He loved you so much, he crossed the sea so he wouldn’t have to see his first love get with what he thought was yours.

You felt lighter all of the sudden. As if the soreness and bruises from last night’s have been washed down your body. You felt light enough to dunk without sitting on Eunseok’s shoulder, for once. 

You truly felt like it. 

So you jumped, higher than you ever have in your life, and dunked. 

Adrenaline rushed in your veins in such a delightful way, that you have forgotten that as an athlete, listening to your body was the only thing that mattered. It wasn’t scores, performances, peers, sponsors, or money. It was your body. But it was too late to remember it now. 

You were on the floor.

And you couldn’t believe the thud followed by a cracking sound, was the sound of your knee. 

It couldn’t be.

🤺

Anton’s hand still rested right there, squeezing it every time a player scored. 

Uncertainty resided within your heart in his attempt to reassure you. Each squeezes feeling like thousands of swords plunging in the wound left by your crushed lifelong dreams. 

He meant well, though. He meant them like kisses. 

So you covered his hand with your palm, grounding yourself too, on the touch of your partner of 7 years. 

You thought you’d feel more sick than that, watching your first fencing game ever since the incident. 

It was not a harmless sight, nonetheless.

You missed it all so bad, thinking of it for more than a minute would make you undeniably cry rivers, for your grief was still young and fresh. It has only been two years since the Asia games’ doors closed right in front of your hopeful soul. 

Since you have been amputated of the life you have been building since you were a child. 

Since you have died on a basketball court. 

Your forehead sweat would never uncomfortably trickle down your collarbones under the hot white suit again.

You never got to unpack a new one again, smelling the fresh new fabric for days, until it would absorb your own salty smell.   

Your sword would never accidentally hit someone on public transportation again. 

And no one else would ever say that you were glued to it, whenever someone would see you eat, with it laid next to your food. 

You would never train at the gym with your teammates turned friends, giggling on the stair master for minutes again. 

You would never turn teammates into friends again.

You would never plug, and unplug yourself to the score counting matching again. 

And you would never roar from your guts whenever you’d win again. 

You would never win again. 

You never played again. 

🤺

From Anton’s arms, carrying you princess-style as he screamed for help, to the sun-bathed rehab center, a million things you were unable to properly recollect, have happened. 

You have seen therapists that have tried to find you a new purpose in life in the span of 60 minutes weekly consultations, eaten countless of close to tasteless food, received an overwhelming amount of bouquets from all of the coaches, teammates and friends you ever had, and cried after each and every one of their visits. You have dried gallons of your parent’s, Anton’s and every of your loved one’s tears. You have also started knitting, as Sungchan’s bride-to-be have brought you a starting kit to keep up with a new distraction, other than the torturing one you had of keeping up with fencing news. Keeping up with the life you should be living. The life you spent your days and nights mourning, within the four walls of your hospital room. You have even witnessed the reformation of the « Riizing Boys » within those same walls. The six of them filled it with laughter, as they decided to come playing cards and performing karaoke to you every weekends. 

All of them, except for Eunseok. 

His absence haunted your convalescence. Every day for 6 weeks, you’d meet the depressing grey ceiling first, as his face would pop-up in your mind. And every night for 6 weeks, your eyelids would heavily close to the hope of him showing up, leaning against the huge doorframe one day. 

You’d toss and turn in your sleep, wondering whether shame, guilt or none of the above refrained him from coming to visit you. And Anton, as sweet as he was, would only slip his hand out of yours when he’d be sure of your arrival in Morphea’s embrace. As long as you had him, you’d think it would be easier to forget Eunseok’s existence altogether. But you were only a girl who missed her college best friend, and the body she used to live for. 

Complaints and whines once slipped out of your mouth in the safe company of a handful of your girl friends. 

« He ain’t shit anyway », have Sohee’s high school sweetheart spat. Every one of them thoroughly nodded, agreeing to the brown-eyed woman’s truthful statement. 

« If I were you, » Started Sungchan’s promised, « I’d ask for Anton to beat him up. »

You laughed, fully knowing, by looking at her piercing blue eyes, that she meant it in all seriousness. Watching all of them tear him apart with witty insults and embarrassing memories of him during your college years brought peace to your heart. You weren’t alone, grieving the Eunseok you once knew, who’d carry bandages in his cargo pants’ pockets every day, for every single one of your aches, as tiny as they could be. The girls would sneak in the dark chocolates you’d share with him, high up in the bleachers, whilst you lined your future in the early evening stars. They’d also just sit there, merging complains and praises of their respective partners, as you crocheted them tops for their up-coming events you should’ve attended alongside them. 

Your bones would hurt less and less, whilst your prayers for his return would make themselves rarer and rarer. As you took your first trembling, impossibly challenging steps in the hospitals corridors, the idea that the hollow place in your heart for fencing could only be filled with love for a kid with Anton, bloomed in your head. You couldn’t imagine loving anything else. 

And you were everything, but ready to love again.

Your third re-walking session of the week have just ended when the hospital’s garden have looked most promenade-worthy. Soon enough, you were half hopping, half limping with your crutches among slow troupes of retired people, and limb-less recovering adults. Despite the nice track your healing was on, you have not quite often found yourself inhaling the herbal scented air, the freshly produced oxygen out of the tall trees that traced a rounded path. Finding an empty bench was a dreadful task, since everyone seemed to have chosen to take a break at the same time as you. 

You eventually found one, by a duck and koi pond. Little ducklings following around their mama suddenly made you miss Anton, when you’ve heard way too healthy steps to be from a wounded stroller, like you, right behind you. The way the rocks were smashed beneath their feet, instead of seductively dragging on the ground, immediately eliminated your boyfriend from the guessing list. 

Fear and curiosity fought a tough battle within you, as you debated whether you should turn around, or limp out of here. 

It could just be a nurse, you thought to yourself. 

Though you were far from believing in yourself. 

You didn’t even flinch, when the silhouette of a chestnut haired man quietly sat besides you. 

The koi fishes kept on aimlessly turning round and round, deep in the emerald water, and the duck family jumped out of it, one by one, as if they were giving you space to talk it out. 

Or find something to talk about. 

Clapping leaves, summer scented crickets, random droplets and wheelchairs’ wheels rolling on the rocky path. 

You were hearing everything, but an apology. 

You felt like tearing up, like dying even, when he finally spoke up.

« Break up with him. » He started.

« Be my coach. » He pleated. 

Clapping leaves, summer scented crickets, random droplets, wheelchairs’ wheels rolling on the rocky path…

And a slap. 

« What the fuck is wrong with you? » You asked, the tingling sensation lingering on your palm.

« I’m still in love with you. » He truthfully replied, his cheek reddening. 

Your ribs felt like shattering under the extreme pounding of your heart. Heat, flushed the entirety of your numbed-down, heavily medicated body. The cracking of his voice in his followings words made you realize that the only cause of your overwhelmed state was what came out of his mouth. You weren’t even looking at him, yet. And the slap seemed to already belong to history. 

« I… don’t think there are enough words to express how sorry I am. I left you before I could even give us a chance. I am so fucking stupid, and so fucking sorry. And… I’ve read it, you know. The last text you ever sent me. And, I couldn’t forget our kiss, too. To this day, I still replay it, like I’m a fucking broken disc, trying to make sense of a single kiss we shared years ago… Because you haunt me. You always have. And I’m barely brave enough to face you. And you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. » 

He paused. 

« If I could give you my career, my knee, my entire life, I would. In a heartbeat. »

He breathed out, letting his head down, accepting the fact that you, turning to look into his eyes, was not happening, no matter how much you were fighting every single one of your muscles to not succumb. 

« Fence through me, Y/N. Coach me, live everything I took from you through me. I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss you so much that, » He practically collapses, kneeling on the humid grass before you, his nose grazing your broken bone. « I want to be anything for you, and I will do anything for you. Please. »

As if you were programmed to do so, your palm found his thick glowing hair, smoothly gliding beneath your hand. The thoughts that formed in your head made you tremble, as the truth of your following statement planted daggers through your heart and knee. 

« I’m not the girl you miss anymore. »

Your eyes went from the calming auras forming at the surface of the pond, to the stillness of his figure. 

« You’re not just a knee, Y/N. » He replied, looking up to you.

Was it the way the teary gaze you fell in love with dived into yours, or the fact that he was the one who just pronounced the very phrase you wished for your parents, doctors, therapists, and boyfriend to tell you, that made your entire self break into tears. 

The blood that pumped through your veins, rushed with ache for the unbearable, impossible love that has just crashed onto you, your life and story.

This was it, the fireworks they talked about in novels. 

And there he was sniffing on his knees, as your face melted in your soaked palms. Your imagination could have been playing you tricks, drunk on your own tears, but you swore you could hear a bunch of passing-by people gasping and congratulating your « proposal ». Eunseok took notice of your sobs growing in intensity from the irony of it all, and sat back next to you, his thigh now glued to yours. His entire body shielded you from your own violent shakes.  

The shushing, and sea-like sound of the weeping willow’s leaves soothed you to sheer sadness, instead of devastation. 

He protectively held you for a while.

A while long enough for his tear-stained shirt to dry, whilst your head was still laying on it. 

Against the strong, trembling surface of his chest, you thought of how silly it was of you to believe that you would remain unfazed, unmoved, grossed out even, by whatever he’d have to tell you at this stage of your rehabilitation. It was way too late to apologize, and the damage was way beyond repair by now. Or so you thought, before he’d crawl out of his guilt, begging to your feet for you, and everything you selfishly wished for. 

Nevertheless, your cries reflected no relief nor blissful satisfaction in being declared unconditional, almost over-the-top love to.  

You cried out of grief, again. 

You were now witnessing what could have been the start of the story you have silently, shamefully prayed for, and peeled out of your thoughts when you’d shampoo for a bit too long. The passionate declaration that would fast-forward to a happy, lively, and sporty marriage, that you would daydream about in every rides you’d take. The fireworks, the love that burns the blood and twists the bones, that you have looked for in every corners of the pools you’d have secret dates with your boyfriend. 

You loved Anton, though. 

Which is why your eyes would take days to completely dry. 

Eunseok walked you back into your room, softly pushing on a wheelchair, since love has weakened you all over. He tried to break a laugh out of you with slaloms motions, or teased you by having longer than necessary conversations with whoever passed by him. You’d try to roll away to get faster to your room, but he’d grip on your chair hard enough to refrain you from it. It made you giggle. There were few things that he did that didn’t have this effect on you. 

He never changed, only became a better fencer.

So, easier to love.

Thus, impossible to let go of. 

And you were doomed to do it. 

3 mere hours weren’t close to enough to catch up on 7 years apart, especially since it used to take you entire evenings to properly retell what happened over lunch, even though you sat at the ends of the same table. 

But there was no time to tell him about your pregnancy scare, the 6 months long fight you’ve had with Anton’s coach, the day you went skydiving, or the drama that happened over that one couple in your class you used to hate on back then. Because Anton would be there in less than half an hour. And because you cared about him, there was no way you’d have Eunseok like this again. 

Each and every seconds that passed before the inevitable felt all too cruel. 

Here you sat, under the ugly grey light of the room. It would be the last one you’d shine in as the best friend you once were to him, and vice versa.

Even under the ugly grey light, setting eyes on him only further confirmed the truth you were terrified to spend a lifetime coping with.

It was him. 

Your greatest love was him. 

After all, Anton never fenced with you. 

The conversation you were having on each of the boys’ career unwillingly died down now. Silence sat right between you, amplifying your fear of saying goodbye. It was palpable, the force that linked the two of you, now at breaking point.

The way your throat painfully knotted itself even made you doubt on the way you parted from fencing. Was it less, or as painful as choosing your boyfriend of seven years, the one guy you have fantasized about all your youth, over the one person who made the word « soulmate » make sense ?

Each of you exchanged sorry glances, carefully coated in humble gratefulness for the moment.

« Tell me there’s a way. » He ended up sighing, lacing his fingers together, wishing for his other hand to be yours.

You tilted your head in confusion, curiosity, and in all honesty, slight fear of what he was about to say. 

« Tell me there’s a way I can be yours. »

His last desperate word lingered in the air. The air that felt harder to breathe all of the sudden. 

He was right, there had to be a way. 

So you searched for inspiration on his face, lightly twisted in worry. And found it, on the tiny horizontal scar right above his left eyebrow. Seeing it up-close made you 18 again, watching your sword wiggling around in his hands as he yelled out matching sound effects. The memory of a single tear of blood slowly falling along his startled face made you chuckle on your growing tears. And here stood the adult version of the boy you were, and will always be, deeply fond of. 

You still couldn’t believe you were losing him.  

Sport was the most beautiful thing that have ever came into your life. Your baby teeth would fall into your helmet, and grow back during the youth you sacrificed to the épée. The only thing that made your parents buy four other shelves for your trophies was setting your mind to win. Your mind never lusted over anything else than winning, and seeing others putting their entire self into it. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you lived for it. 

The thirst that turns your body in a unrecognizable anxiety-induced carnage, the adrenaline that endlessly floods from your brain to your toes, and the orgasmic, other-worldly sensation of having the victorious status placed upon you, shining like a crown. 

And if you wouldn’t be able to live through it all again, you deserved to watch it unravel. 

Your lips popped out of the cage of teeth you trapped them in. 

A tiny smirk stretched them, illuminating your desperate face. 

« Become an Olympic Champion next year. » 

🤺

14-13

Anton’s hand felt too heavy on your knee, your scar jolted awake in bolts of pains by his sweet, sweet thumb grazing it. This abnormal pressure was shared by every pieces of fabric that stuck on your sprinkling skin. The scores and whistles controlled your now manual breathing. Your stomach tied itself around nothing recent to digest. You barely blinked, your blown up irises hysterically dancing in between the two players, studying their every movements. You also turned your knuckles a worrying shade of white as you gripped your plastic seat. 

It was safe to say : you were losing your shit. 

Eunseok have carelessly lost points all over the second part, screaming his rage out every time he did so. Your tongue could be bleeding from all those times you have refrained yourself from joining him in his act, or downstairs. Glancing at the score, realizing that you might be a point away for your world to collapse, was making your skin burn in all sorts of places, an acidic taste slowly blooming in your mouth. If it weren’t for the delightful, gut-wrenching spectacle you were a lucky live witness of, you’d be cursing yourself to the hells for that stupid challenge you gave him. 

You actually thought he wouldn’t make it to the finale.

But now that he did, you found yourself praying for Yannick Borel’s immediate downfall. 

« En Garde… »

He just had to miss two times. 

« Prêts ? »

But he also just had to score, once. 

« Allez ! »

You stopped breathing. 

The players hopped in place, as did your indexes on the edge of your seat, as if they were little characters you controlled. The squeaky sound of their soles hitting the graphic floor echoed for a little while, until Eunseok decided to first break synchronization on their hops. 

He feinted attacks on Borel’s under defensed’s left arm. And another one, down his thigh.  

If Eunseok was a bolder fencer, he already would’ve had the point, you thought. 

But he was the surprising the type. 

The type you used to hate confronting. 

Constantly playing defense, until they see a breach open, an opportunity to seize when your guard is down, and run to you with big steps, like a recurrent nightmare catching you up in your needed sleep. 

Kissing you with death. 

Borel understood, and grew accustomed to his attacking style at least 5 points ago. 

Though, he still had a hard time defensing every parts of his body against it.

He defended his arm by wrapping it around his lower torso, crouched, now reaching for Eunseok’s thighs. 

His sword swooped the air. 

14-14

Eunseok landed from his jump, his point stinging Borel’s shoulder blades. 

As soon as he scooped the victory off Yannick’s back, you were on your feet, screaming your lungs out. Anton jolted, placing his hand on your hips as an attempt to hold you if you were to fall. He looked up at you, watching you roar a « Come on » from the depths of your guts, a sound he has never quite heard before. 

Under the Palais’ stadium lights, each and every strands of the crown of your hair, backlit to shades of blues and golds, made you look like an actual goddess. There he sat, in awe of the woman he was certain he could spend a lifetime worshipping. And there you stood, knowing you should be peeling your eyes away from Eunseok’s sweaty smile of relief plastered all over the screens, especially since Anton had a light grip on your shirt, but you thoroughly knew that you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop looking at him, the dark shiny hair strands that were glued to his forehead, the dimples that dug through his cheeks, and then, the switch in his eyes and furrowed eyebrows, when it was time to put the mask on, and lock back in. 

You were the last of your row to sit back down as the arena grew quieter. 

Waves of panic in it’s purest state crashed on your entire being, in forces that felt as if your soul would detach itself from your body. You were reaching stress-levels you thought unbeatable minutes ago. Anton quickly took notice of your trembling legs, and perfect manicure progressively getting ruined. His hands shielded yours from your shaking teeth, as he made you look at him for a second, thankfully, during time-out. 

The sight of his soft traits relaxed yours in a miraculous instant. 

His touch cooled you down. 

His thumb lovingly caressing the side of your fist slowed down your breathing. 

And as if your heart haven’t found enough peace in him, he reached for your hair, petting it, murmuring « Are you okay? » to the thresholds of your tortured soul. 

You nodded, gulping your huge lie down your chest, where you felt a big pressure. It finally came down to you, in a flash, the absolute stupidity of your challenge. 

You were possibly a point away from losing the one thing that made your life hold together.

The person who picked you up, pieces by pieces, from your shattered state on the court’s floor, to your first teary-eyed jogging session along the Han River. 

The one person you’ve granted access to each and every parts of your body. 

The one person who’d peel all of the pistachios, and gut out all the pomegranates for you. 

The one person who’d sneak a sample of your perfume in all of his coat’s pockets.

The one person you’d cook for his mother, father, siblings, and himself.

The one person you’ve made a home with, and made a home of.

In the end, Anton has proved himself to be your favorite person in the entire world. 

In the end, you were the one that always refused to teach him fencing, for your own selfish sake, when all he wanted was to know you, and each of the worlds you belonged to completely. 

There was a part of your soul that you’ve denied him access to, and instead of complaining, or forcing you, he just waited. 

You never ended your nod, your head still hanging low, out of shame, guilt, pain and everything else that has been crushing you for the entirety of the combat. Your partner peeked at your hidden face, and needed no more information than the muffled sound of you sniffing to bury your head in his chest. The last point was about to be gained, by a player or another, but you couldn’t peel yourself away from him. You couldn’t watch it. 

It was better this way.

Everything was better in Anton’s arms. 

Even losing him. 

The same squeaky sound of the fencer’s shoes on the platform echoed yet again through the hall. The church-like silence that dances with them, though, have never felt so heavy on everyone’s shoulders. It was okay, though, with Anton’s palms on yours, and the beating of his heart to focus on. It oddly felt comforting to imagine that he knew about what was at stake here. His tight hold on you, feeling like the last grasp of air a drowning person would do. His focused eyes, replacing yours, as if you sent him to battle to death with Eunseok for you.

The actual battle that occurred beneath you felt like a never-ending one. As calm and still as you could be, you tested your patience and almost meditated to the sound of Eunseok’s hops and grunts, tickling your burning ear. Even if you’ve mentally fought yourself a few times to just fuck it and turn around, Anton wouldn’t allow you. 

You were stuck to the bone, until the whistle would blow.

And it did. 

And the announcer’s voice from the speakers, unknowingly, cracked open your life into two, one part of which you will never know the outcome of.

A part you were doomed to mourn, again, forever. 

15-14

—

The sea of blue bleachers slowly cleared itself above you, as the Korean, French, and German flags lowered themselves to the ground. The rain of confettis slowly died down, also, pooling on people’s hair and shoulders. The crowd left in waves, the time in between the beautiful spectacle of sport they were all privileged enough to see, and the train of their lives about to restart, hanging in the air, lingering. Your eyes aimlessly swept around the Grand Palais, encountering as many celebrating and saddened faces as it could in a matter of seconds. 

Though, it left you thoughtless.

You felt like nothing but a bag of blood, bones and flesh, walking in your man’s steps, lighter and lighter as you walked, free of all the stress that previously crushed your heart. 

He guided you to an event you were certain of replaying throughout the rest of your life, but you numbly followed him still.

And you arrived to destination. Your first view being Eunseok’s shoes a meter away from yours. 

Losing your knee, your life, your entire career, and processing it all from the beginning each time you fell asleep, was a hundred times easier than simply looking up. 

Anton, your sweet Anton, slipped his hand out of your grasp to swiftly put it on your lower back, before he went reaching for Eunseok, who just like you, simply missed his college best friend. 

The devastating sight of their embrace cured you from your aches. You saw love pour out of them, for each other. So much, that you briefly caught yourself suspecting a secret connexion, as some of the lingering touches and glances they offered each other happened to be a second too long. An inch too loving. 

You didn’t have time, to investigate, though, as it was now your cue to get stabbed in the heart. You thought you’d explode out of love when you’d crash into Eunseok’s arms, and feel his heavy, dangling medal dig its way into your ribs. You thought you’d faint, or die, even. 

Even though they were close to happening, none of them occurred. 

He caged you in his sobbing body, matching yours, you melted, as did he. Your respective embraces crushed each of you, as much as it soothed you. You, by the salty smell of your firsts loves, fencing and Eunseok. And him, by the vanilla smell of the hair he’d lock in a singular braid before you’d go to battle, whether it was under the bleachers, or projectors. He had to stop himself from running his hand through it, for the sole public of this scene silently grew impatient, and jealous. 

You knew it. 

He knew it. 

And you stayed there, privately celebrating, inhaling and already missing each other.

Before he could peel himself off, you heard him whisper an apology by the crook of your neck, instantly raising the hairs on it, and making your fists tremble around his fresh suit. 

He patted the new growing sobs away on your back, and looked up to the glass ceiling, through which he caught the moon, looking down on your doomed, broken souls. 

You eventually parted, as the universe, and the referee decided.  

« Congratulations on your medal, Eunseok. » You managed to say, looking directly into his eyes. 

You haven’t known any heavier burden to carry other than the white silver rock on your ring finger, matching the shiny medal that covered the pieces you left his heart in. 

« Congratulations on your wedding, Y/N. » He replied, sincerely smiling. 

GOTHAMGF©

author's note : muahahaha.... this is my very first riize work and work in a long while. hope you enjoyed, I really liked writing this :)

[peach-the-owl]

I make my grand return! But I also wanted to try something different from what I normally do and expand my horizons (so to speak), I hope you all enjoy 😁

Meeting Each Other

Hazbin Hotel & Child!Reader

WARNING: Themes of abuse are present in Angel Dust’s scenario, also swearing in his, I did my best to keep the characters in character but there may be some OOC moments, (if there’s any warnings I miss but should add please let me know)

(Set before the events of the show)

Hazbin Hotel:

Charlie and Vaggie

You peek out from the flaming wreckage you used as cover to hide, seeing the coast is clear you carefully step out of where you’re hiding and roam the corpse riddled streets. It reeked of death, not exactly an unfamiliar scent but not a pleasant one either. You hear something shuffle, or maybe someone? You quickly turn around but don’t see anything, now paranoia starts to creep in making you wonder if you may have exposed yourself too soon and any moment an exorcist will swoop down and finish you off. To your utter surprise that’s actually not the case when you see to woman conversing as they strolled down the street, it was so odd to you how casual they looked doing it or maybe you were just getting too used to all the violence that happened on the daily that it struck you as odd. Either way your curiosity gets the better of you and you try to sneak closer without being noticed to see what they were talking about.

“… idea… to work.” You just barely catch the one in the suit say. An idea? Wonder what it could be? You sneak closer.

“…I know… rlie, but try not... aren’t exactly going to…” You hear the one with the X over her eye say, less enthusiastic then the one in the suit. Who’s going to what? You needed to get just a little closer and… you slip and fall. The girl with the X over her eye immediately wipes around, pulling out an angelic spear, with the fire still burning around you she, for just a brief moment, looked like an exorcist ready to strike you. That was enough motivation for you to shuffle back fearfully, as you do her angered expression drops to one of guilt?

“Hello.” You jump a little at the voice, not noticing the lady in the suit had approached you. “Are you lost my little friend?” She asks. You don’t say anything, you’re not sure what to say so you just kinda stare her down. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m Charlie, it’s nice to meet you.” Charlie gives you the warmest smile you’ve ever seen as she holds her hand out to you. You weren’t sure you could trust this supposedly kind gesture of hers so instead you pick yourself up off the ground and give a small nod of acknowledgment, which she still seemed extremely happy about.

“Maybe we should go, you know before their parent? Parents? Whoever might be looking for them comes along. Besides, the kid doesn’t look like they’re much for conversation.” The X eyed one says rather bluntly.

“Or… this could be the perfect opportunity to find our first attendants!” Charlie bounces excitedly before turning back to you. “So you know me. And this amazing person is my girlfriend Vaggie.” She introduces, to which Vaggie gives a bit of an awkward wave.

“I don’t.” You finally find your voice to speak. Vaggie raises a slightly confused eyebrow while Charlie looked at you curiously.

“Don’t what?” She now kneels down to your level.

“She said something about a parent coming to look for me.” You point to Vaggie. “But I don’t have anyone looking after me, even when I was alive no one really did.” You say, crossing your arms uncomfortably. Charlie looked like she was about to cry after hearing that and the next thing you know you’re being scooped up in her arms, surprising you.

“Oh Vaggie! Can we keep them! Please?” She asks, giving big puppy dog eyes.

“Charlie…” Vaggie starts looking at your confused self. “I don’t know… maybe they should decide that for themselves.” She reasons. Charlie holds you out at arms length a less enthused and more gentle smile on her face this time.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Umm…” You stare a bit stunned by all this, not entirely sure how to process everything. You’ve been alone for so long, barely trusting people for your own safety and while part of you wanted to run here and now another was telling you to just give this a chance. “I… I wouldn’t mind… I guess.” You mumble out sheepishly. Charlie bounces around happily with you still in her arms, something you realize you’re probably going to have to get used to, while you catch a faint smile on Vaggie’s face.

“Alright. Well, if you’re staying with us, can we at least get your name kid?” She asks.

“Oh, ummm, the name’s (y/n).” You tell her, she gives you a nod and with some convincing to finally get Charlie to put you down the three of you head off to this hotel Charlie won’t stop talking about.

Angel Dust

“Get back here you little shit!!” You dash away from the Sinners chasing you, mentally slapping yourself for being a little too reckless. You couldn’t help it, the items they had looked so shiny. Having been able to manage some distance between them you quickly skid into a rather empty alleyway to hide. Taking a moment to catch your breath beside a dumpster when a side door slams open, you press yourself against said dumpster and blend in with the shadows around you. You watch as someone is literally thrown out the door another figure peering down at them.

“You think this is some fucking joke! Am I a fucking joke to you Anthony!?” The one peering out the doorway hisses.

“No, no I-I never… I would never-” The other figure sounded panicked, quickly being cut off again by the first.

“Enough! We’ll discuss this later, once we get this mess cleaned up.” With that they slam the door. You sneak a bit closer getting a good look at whoever had been left in the alley with you, their spidery features struck you as familiar, remembering some of those posters you’d see around the city promoting some adult film with a one Angel Dust. And if that’s the case and if he was so popular then he must have some cash on him, ripe for your sticky fingers to grab. This motivation in mind gets you shuffling closer staying as close to the shadows as possible to avoid detection, now all you had to do was reach over and…

“Who the fuck!!” You’re suddenly grabbed by the arm and flung to the ground, now staring up at the angry spider. “The hell? What’s a kid like you doing here?” He still looks mad just with some confusion added to the mix.

“You mean in hell, or just in general?” You question back shoving him back a bit so you could sit up.

“Don’t play cheeky with me kid, you was trying to steal from me, weren’t ya?” He narrows his eyes accusingly at you.

“Trying would imply I didn’t get anything.” You say slyly, holding up a bag of drugs. He immediately snatches it back from you.

“How the fuck did you do that!?” He seemed genuinely surprised you took something without his noticing. You shrug casually in response.

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You freeze when you realize your little stunt cost you time to get away from the Sinners you were running from. Without much time, or thought you scramble into the dumpster just hoping they didn’t see you. The footsteps thump closer and closer, halting right by your hiding spot.

“Well well, if it ain’t the beauty of the Angel Dust themselves.” Shit, you forgot Angel Dust was right there, stupid!

“It is, and what can I do for such strong capable folk like yourselves?” You’re gonna be ratted out for sure.

“Uhh- *ahem* Right, we’s looking for a kid, about yay big and kind of stupid. Like a real piece of shit.” Rude much, if anything they’re the stupid ones.

“Is that so? And what exactly are ya gonna do when you catch them?”

“Oh nothing really, we’s just gonna teach them a lesson, right boys.” A small cheer of “yeah’s��� ring from the group. This was it, you were doomed and all because you just-

“I think I saw ‘em run that way and turned left.” You sit there stunned as the footsteps disappear into the distance, unsure if what just happened really just happened. “Coast is clear kid, you can come out of there, hehe cum.” He chuckles at his own unintentional joke. Slowly you peek out from the dumpster looking around to be extra sure that gang was gone before crawling out entirely.

“You… you didn’t rat me out?” You look at him genuinely puzzled, he just shrugs. “Why?” He’s quiet for a long moment before answering.

“Well… why don’t we just say you owe me now.” He says, crossing his arms and looking away from you.

“Oh, so you want my soul for something.” You huff.

“As nice as that would be, I was thinkin’ more a fair trade.”

“Like what?” You we’re getting very confused and curious as to what was on his mind.

“I use my ravishingly good looks and smooth talk to get you out of trouble, and you use those little skills of yours to snag me some of that good nose candy.” You think on this for a second, letting his words sink in and it wasn’t the worst situation to be in, all things considered.

“Alright! You got yourself a deal.” You shake each other’s hands, a thread like a spiders web wraps around your hand while a wispy one wraps around his, sealing your deal together. You both blink in surprise at this. “Did you that was gonna happen?” You ask him as you pull away.

“Nope… eh, I’m sure it’s fine.” He brushes off nonchalantly. His calm demeanour quickly shifts to to fear when the door open once more.

“Angel I’m so sorry for how I yelled at you earlier. I didn’t mean it, honest, it’s just been so stressful today. You understand, don’t you?” The pimp says in a sickly sweet voice.

“I uhh…” Angel takes a small look over his shoulder a second to see his own shadow give him a quick wink then disappear into the darkness of the alleyway. “Of course…” He shakes himself off and with a small second of hesitance, re-enters the studio.

Alastor

The streets were quiet and the sky was darker then normal as you kept a decent pace behind the odd man with the strange static noise coming off of him. He’d appeared not too long ago seemingly minding his own business, no one bothering to look twice at him but you found him interesting. After all he basically just got here and already he’s strolling around with the confidence like he owned the place. He turns and without thinking you follow, only to end up staring down the dead end street at nothing. The static sound fills your ears loudly, you quickly cover them and tilt your head up to see the looming figure grinning back at you.

“You seem lost my little friend! T̷͈̜̑o̶͈͊̌ ̸͔͂̎w̵̫̠̕ḣ̴̗̋a̵̐͜ţ̵̗̊́ ̴̣̯̈́d̷̛̪ȍ̷̘ ̷͉͚̍̓Ǐ̶̬ ̴̠̦̉̄o̸͉̍̔w̶̧̟̃é̸͎̻̆ ̸͉̎t̸͇̀̂ͅh̷̥͝ê̶͕̞ ̷̠̍̅p̴̢̓l̴̨̹̑͒ẻ̷̮̅a̷͔͛͊ş̸̾ȕ̷̩͍r̶̹̔e̸̮̬̓ ̵̱̼͌͗ó̴̧͉̈́f̷̡̬̓̓ ̷̰̝͒̀y̴͚̪͘͝o̵̙͋ǔ̵͙ ̶̙̇̂͜f̵̧̪̓ö̶͉́ͅl̶̢̮̅̌l̶̝͂͘ͅo̵̗̳͌̂ŵ̷͓͓̽i̷̧̛̼̾n̶̹̝̔̈g̷̡̡̿ ̴̤͝m̶̩̊̓è̷̹̭?̷̩̻͂͠” The grin never falters as his tone lowers leaving an uneasy feeling in your gut.

“Umm… c-curiosity?” You say shakily.

“Well why didn’t you just say so! If I’d known I already be paraded by fans I’d have given a better welcome!” He laughs jovially. “Though…” He leans down to get a closer look at you. “You don’t appear as someone who’s well versed in the art of radio.” He raises an amused eyebrow at you.

“Oh… umm… I…” You struggle to think of a good excuse, still new to the whole radio stuff. “I am aware of them.” He straightens himself up, still holding a look of amusement on you, then a look of realization crosses his ever smiling face.

“Oh ho! Where have my manners gone? The name’s Alastor, my fine little friend. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” He introduces himself.

“Uhhh, my name’s (y/n).” You greet back.

“Hmmm, so tell me. What really pulled you to follow me?” Alastor hums in thought, being slightly less threatening then earlier.

“You walk with a lot of confidence for someone who’s only been here for about a week. I was curious for why.” You confess.

“Is that all? Haha! Why it’s very simple my little friend. With confidence you hold the upper hand against your opponent no matter the situation.” He proclaims proudly. “Now then, I for one couldn’t help but notice you’re… unique attributes about you.” You look away from him nervously. “Now now, no need to feel shameful. In fact I believe you should embrace it! And I can help.”

“You can help me? How?” You knew exactly where he was going with this but played along.

“Isn’t it obvious? By giving you reason to put those skills of yours to use! And there’s no better person then I to help give you that reason.” He gleefully remarks.

“I mean… I guess.” You draw out the words as an idea forms in your head.

“So… ĭ̸̍̚͜t̴̝̫̆̊’̸̲̺̈́̚s̸̗̓͆͂͆̀̚ ̶̥̖͋͆̾̆̅̏̓ą̴̢̳̤̋̋̉̽̍͌͠ ̸͓̜̲̭̳̦̠̅͗̋̅d̶̙̾̉͗̒e̴̛̙̿͐a̴̟͗́̂̆̎ĺ̴̠̻̒ ̶̧̺̺̳̕t̵̢̰̍̿̍̈́̓͒͌h̵̢̼̰̠͕̀̔̽ę̵͖͚͕̲̓̋͠n̷̢̫̻̆͐͆ͅͅ?��̲͗͗͒” Alastor holds out his hand to you a green aura around it as a small gust of wind whips around the two of you.

“Only if you promise me that I don’t get in trouble or harmed by anything or anyone.” You quickly say.

“Is that all?” He tilts his head curiously at you. You nod in response, he narrows his eyes at you a second or two before answering. “Cross my heart.” He says to which you then accept his handshake sealing the deal between the two of you.

There it was, a deal was made and the two of you left that dead end street. You weren’t sure what Alastor had planned but that didn’t really matter to you, all you wanted was protection and that’s exactly what you got.

As for Alastor, while not exactly looking to be someone’s “bodyguard” the pros of this deal heavily outweighed the cons so he let slide…

J̶̡̡̣͈͚͓̱̬̳͇̬̻̲̍̈́́͒̐͒u̵̟̞̞̜̲̖̹̳̇̍͊̀̽͂͜͠s̷̥͖̭̣̞͍̑̄̆̈́ţ̴͎̥̰̲͓̖̓̀͗̄̒̂̒̍̏̽͊̕͝ ̶͔̬̹͚̝̯͖̟̭̹̤̇͋͐͑̉͐t̴̡̜͕͕̠͖̗̺͓̣̫̔̓̑̍́̈̇̚͠͝ḧ̴̰͚̯̯̤͓͍̤͚͒̇̈́̆̌̉̑̚͝i̸̘̬̻̐̊̇̎̚ś̴͇̮͕̐̐̓͆̒̓̍̂͝ ̸̡̡̛̩̩̥̰͈̝͔͓̤̖́͒͛͑̆̎̓̈́̚͘͝ö̴̜̭́̀͑̾̑̕͘̕͝ṉ̸̲̥͌̀̽́̓͋̆̒͝c̷̨̨̘̱̲̰̝̟̠̏̍e̸͈̹̒̆̌̒̆…̵̡̭̙͉̱̣̄̐̈́̀̋̂. I

I hope you all enjoyed! Let me know if you want me to continue this or add any characters. (Side note: I have a separate WIP for Helluva Boss characters coming soon (hopefully))😁

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being a variant and being on Miles’ side [GN]

[Platonic Headcanons]

c/w: major spoilers, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon inaccuracies? I’m not really sure I’d just gone off what I had perceived from the movie

—

[Unedited]

• Miguel and Jessica had been keeping a keen eye on the teenager spider variant (you) from Earth-2315126 since you’d been bitten at five years old

• Strange thing was your father; Peter Parker was also bit, which meant your dimension had two spider variants as opposed to one— not unheard of but not common either

• It was fortunate for you however because you had someone to teach you, show you the ropes, the fact that it was your father who had become your mentor was only the icing on the cake

• And you were brought up into a spectacular spider variant in his care; strong, compassionate, kind

• Though despite having a father the pair kept a watchful eye on you regardless, seeing promise in your future and believing in your potential

• When you were fourteen your father was killed by Lizard, and for an entire year following you gave up on your heroic persona— hanging up your suit in the wake of your father’s death that rocked your entire world

• Being Spider-Man/Woman is about sacrifice, your father taught that to you when you began and you should’ve expected that you could not have it all

• A loving and doting father and the most badass secondary identity ever, it was always bound to happen and you should’ve prepared yourself for it

• But nobody could prepare themself for the loss of a loved one, and the ache in your chest and the burn in your stomach was something you’d never felt before— nor do you ever wish to feel it again

• So you gave up on the suit and you gave up on being the hero, eventually your Aunt May had stepped in and she scolded you pretty heavily about your state

• You didn’t think she had room to talk and she laid into you pretty hard for that comment because she most certainly did, Peter was her brother after all

• After you got it pretty good you decided that she was right, sulking about and ruining yourself wouldn’t change a damn thing, not only that but you knew your father would hate to see you like that

• You knew he wouldn’t ever force the suit upon you and you accepted that you had the choice to avoid dawning it ever again, but you also knew what he would do in your position

• He would bear the responsibility of his beloved city no matter the circumstances and no matter the heartache, because Spider-Man always gets back up

• So you stood firm upon all the valiant determination you could muster and picked your life back up again

• You got better emotionally and grew stable once more, and in the acceptance of your father’s death you had grown stronger, confident, courageous

• With you back on the streets of NYC the people of Brooklyn often voiced just how much they had missed and needed you

• And you didn’t plan on letting them down again, so despite the lack of a piece of your heart you always showed up when people needed you and you’ve not yet let them down

• Now, back to Jess and Miguel— they had known Peter would die and they had known they could not interfere as this was your canon event, the moment that would make or break you.. turns out it did both

• And they watched as you suffered through the loss, gave up on everything and everyone (including yourself) for a little over a year, worked through your pain and powered forward to overcome your grief, then became one of the strongest variants they had ever seen just before your seventeenth birthday

• Yes, they’ve been watching you for twelve years and yes, you have no idea

• It was on your seventeenth birthday that you had encountered Lizard once again, and this time he had taken enhancement drugs to increase his growth rate to tremendously rapid levels

• To say you were a bit stunned to see Lizard the size of a fucking dinosaur would be the understatement of the entire damn year

• Now, you held malicious and vengeful feelings towards Lizard for a long time in the wake of your father’s murder but it was feelings you had never ever acted upon, not even after you decided to pick up the suit once more

• As mentioned before you knew very well that the angry and hateful feeling brewing inside you at the expense of Lizard killing him could ruin you if you let it

• And that’s not where your morals lie, your beliefs and virtues are straight from those of your fathers— to be strong and courageous, righteous and pure for being Spider-Man/Woman is about hope

• So you did intend to take him down but you’d never do it with sinister intent or threatening tactics— just bring him down is all you wanted to do

• And if you were to speak honestly, it wasn’t as hard as you thought it was gonna be, obviously it was still pretty tough because hello? He’s the size of a fucking house, might as well be fighting a damn dragon

• It was easier because you’d felt at peace with yourself, and when at peace with yourself you worked harder and cleaner, jobs and protecting the city was just.. easier

• The fact the fight was easier than you expected could’ve also been because of your bite, the abilities you had gotten from it were a bit different than your father’s

• See, you’d been bit by a radioactive spider yes but it was a specific species and in accordance with that species you’d gained significantly different skills and traits

• The spider that had bit you was a Northern Wolf Spider, the arachnid gaining that name from it’s behavior of chasing, hunting and stalking prey, and in an odd turn of events you’d gained qualities that were more akin to that of a North American Timber Wolf

• Heightened senses came with the bite for every variant, and your specific qualities included; advanced stamina and strength, increased sense of sight, tremendously keen sense of smell and auditory processing, you had thick and durable fangs meant for tearing and searing

• You also bulked up a whole more more since your father passed, and in gaining more weight in pure muscle you’ve had to make your webs more durable, which helped out a lot with your fight against Lizard

• Speaking of—

“They’ve probably got it handled Miguel, is there any reason to actually go to their dimension?”

“I protect the multiverse which makes anomalies my responsibility, regardless of if that variant can handle them or not. And I’m going to have them join us.”

Jessica didn’t say much after, and she followed Miguel dutifully as he walked into the glowing orange portal. The pair flew through the multiverse for all of two seconds before a portal opened ahead of them and they were dropped onto a roof in your dimension.

“Went a bit too heavy on the ‘roids didn’t ya Doc?” The voice of a young teenager caught their ears. Just off to the side and a couple blocks away. Now facing that way they could see the large head of Lizard standing tall over the lip of the building on the distance.

“Is.. is that?—”

“Dr. Curt Connors.”

You leapt off the metal grail of the fire escape just as Lizard destroyed it with a whip of his massive tail. Using the momentum from your jump you swung a reverse axe kick to Lizard’s chin— putting enough force into it to throw his head back as you flip-jumped from him and landed on the road down below.

“I’m going to rip you apart and feast on your innards!” Lizard snarled as he recovered and glowered down at you with a sinister bear of his teeth.

“Season them well first at least, I’d suggest a nice barbecue rub!” You responded before shooting a web to the corner of the building on your left and swinging yourself into the air. Lizard roared angrily before lunging forward and attempting to catch you between his teeth. They snapped close with a chilling clamp and throaty growl from the beast.

Reaching the corner of the building you had shot your web at you leapt up and backwards flying over Lizard’s head and connecting a web to the side of his muzzle.

“Almost got me there!” You yelled as you swung around and around Lizard’s large scaled snout. “Don’t you know that animals that bite are often fitted with muzzles!” You quipped, enunciating the last word with a firm tug thus tightening the webs you’d been wrapping around his jaws and effectively sealing his mouth shut.

You kept the momentum and attached another web to the end of the one you’d been swinging around his muzzle. Then, you angled your hip to swing towards Lizard’s legs and using the same tactic looped around them several times before you were doing the same thing for his arms. When you deemed him wrapped up enough you landed behind him then tugged hard on the web end in your hand and forced Lizard to the ground by pulling his feet out from underneath him.

Once you were sure he was on the asphalt you were swift to web him up tightly and bind him to the ground. Hopefully, Captain Stacey got your message about the antidote and would arrive soon with it.

Meanwhile, as you waited you playfully walked along the edge of the building. The lip acting as your balance beam as you walked on your toes along it, doing a flip every so often just cause. You’d long since forgone your mask in favor of eating the sandwich gifted to you by the bodega owner on the corner.

Your spider senses tingled before—

“That was pretty impressive.”

You only flinched slightly at the abrupt interruption of your own little world, and turned to see two people. One, a very tall and broad man with wide shoulders and a muscular physique. The other, a woman with dark skin and a styled afro.. and she was pregnant.

“Uhm… thanks?”

“Was that a question?”

“Sorry it’s just—” you shook your head before jumping down and only now standing on the same level as him did you realize how tall the man actually was. “Who exactly are you two?”

“I’d think the suits gave you plenty context.” The woman replied, a smirk tugging up one end of her lips.

“Okay.. and why are you here?” You answered, still on edge about the two variants standing in front of you.

“My name is Miguel O’hara, and I lead an elite strike force dedicated to helping maintain the multiverse.” The man responded and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here?”

“There was an anomaly reading in your dimension and we’re here to retrieve whatever villain has jumped into your universe.” The woman explained, jumping in to answer before Miguel could.

“You mean Kingpin?” You replied pointing to the billboard behind them and they both spun around to find the suit wearing antagonist webbed to it. Thick, white webs covering his entire body save for his neck and head, finally a web over his mouth. And they all watched as he glitched and morphed in colorful and mixed patterns, the board he was attached to glitching out too before changing entirely.

“How did you?—”

“My AP Physics teacher won’t shut up about the multiverse and also he doesn’t look my Kingpin at all so.. I mean you know,” they shrugged.

Miguel turned his head slightly to look at the woman beside him before he jerked his head minutely then he was facing the teenager in front of him once more. You met his masked stare head on (something he was impressed by, not many people can meet his intimidating glare straight on) as the woman walked away from you two before slinging a web up to the billboard and pulling herself up to it.

“You know the whole sinister and dark ‘nobody touch me I’m emo’ vibe you got going on isn’t very heroic.”

Miguel didn’t say anything, didn’t move an inch as he just stared at you. “See that right there isn’t becoming of someone who’s supposed to make people feel safe.”

“I protect the multiverse.”

“Right. But there are ordinary people in the multiverse, in every dimension you’ll find people.”

“The multiverse is my priority.”

“Yikes, saying things like that are not very becoming of a Spider-Man either.”

Miguel turned his observant stare cold as he chose to glare at you instead for the disrespectful responses and jokes. And he figured you must’ve felt he’d changed to glaring heatedly because you awkwardly looked away with a hand rubbing the back of your neck.

Finally, the woman returned with the Kingpin variant at her feet. This one significantly smaller than yours and lankier too, he must rely heavily on his Tombstone and Prowler. You’d rather have this Kingpin as opposed to your Kingpin— who for some reason is built like a fucking overgrown Silverback Gorilla.

She fiddled with the watch on her wrist before a golden portal erupted into life beside her, and you watched as she threw the Kingpin variant in before stepping in herself. But not before saluting you a goodbye with a playful glint in her eye and cheeky smirk on her face.

The portal closed and then your attention was back on Miguel, and your spider senses tingling brought a hand up to catch the watch he threw at you.

“Join us?”

You looked from him to the device in your hand, then you looked behind you at the Lizard on the ground down below. Captain Stacey at his neck and injecting him with a vial of clear liquid. You turned back to Miguel with a smirk and eager look as you slid the watch onto your wrist. “Sounds like a damn good time.”

• You didn’t know if you actually wanted to be there at Miguel’s Spider Society or whatever he’s calling it but you were also a bit intrigued by it

• So you followed them when he offered you that watch, and you grinned as he gave walked you around the building, giving you a small tour of his headquarters

• When you met Peter B. Parker you had an emotional breakdown and refused to return to the society for days following your first interaction with the man

• When you finally went back he was concerned that he’d done something wrong to garner such a reaction but you were quick to jump in and let him know it was in no way his fault before you explained why you had reacted as you did

• He was more than understanding, offering to keep his distance if that was what you wanted and whilst you appreciated the gesture you told him you would be fine

• And spending time in his company had begun to fill that gaping hole in your heart, obviously he’d never replace your father and you didn’t expect that of him either but his fatherly presence made you feel better than you had in years since your father’s passing

• Mayday was just an added bonus to his presence

• Time passed and you were there for a couple months before you met Gwen Stacey, and the two of you clicked almost instantly, it was a bit odd for you since the Gwen from your universe was about three years old and hadn’t been bitten but you got used to it

• And in that time you’d also learned the pregnant woman’s name was Jessica and that she was Miguel’s right hand in his society that he created

• You’d also met Hobie Brown and Pavitr Prabhakar whom you’d come to adore more than you’d ever outwardly admit lest you wish to give them egos the size of fucking Mars (but those two alongside Gwen were definitely your favorites) (behind Miguel ofc)

• Speaking of, you’d also grown quite close to Miguel in your time as part of his society of spider people, which was a huge surprise to yourself, him, Jessica and pretty much everyone involved

• He couldn’t really explain what it was, just something about your energy and the way you carried yourself that had him intrigued and impressed

• Your attitude that alluded to you never giving up was something he admired about you too, and it was those qualities that drew him in, made him want to protect you

• The bonding with you was something he didn’t expect to happen but was shocked when he wasn’t against it, and he ignored the initial reluctance and fear that he felt when you two began to get closer and closer

• Maybe it was the little things, the way you’d check up on him after a particularly harrowing or difficult mission, or the way you’d do anything to see if you could get him to crack a smile, there was something about your mere presence too, something warm and comforting

• Something he hadn’t felt since his young daughter was still a part of his life, and he was afraid of the consequences that would follow if he ever got close to you and lost you

• The same heartache he felt for his daughter would return, and it was pain that he didn’t want to feel ever again, that’s why he kept himself so guarded, those broken and vulnerable pieces protected behind vaulted steel doors

• But you had somehow managed to slip through his barbed defenses and made yourself right at home in his heart, and again he was initially afraid of the possibility that he’d lose you too and he’d face that pain all over again

• He doesn’t remember when or how he got over it, but he does remember the feeling that washed over him when he finally accepted your friendship

• It felt akin to a bucket of cold water being dumped over that fiery and searing ache in his chest, relief and comfort that he felt weigh so heavily on his chest he almost cried

• After that your guys’ relationship developed to much deepen levels, and he’d never admit to your face but you had quickly become his favorite and he would do anything to protect you, protect your bond like his life depended on it

• And just like Peter, his mere presence seemed to make you finally feel whole again… complete

• And as time continued to pass you’d only grow closer with the two men, finding safety and comfort in their arms, safety and comfort you’d been craving since you were fourteen years old

• Then, Miles Morales came along and everything went to shit

• Despite being on his team for months Miguel failed to mention that there was a spider variant that was an anomaly

• And in failing to mention that you had to figure it out on your own when Miles’ scent hit your nose and he smelled drastically different from the other spider people

• He smelt odd, unnatural and unusual… strange

• It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was an anomaly but you still figured it out by the way his scent, and you thanked the stars for that particular gift you got from the species of spider that had bitten you

• After Miles, Hobie and Gwen returned from the rescue they accomplished in Pavitr’s dimension at the expense of Spot is when things went from bad to ultimately worse

• Miguel had hoped somewhere small in his chest that you would side with him but he knew in a significantly larger part of him that your morals would not allow you to stand for him preventing Miles from saving his father

• Miguel knew that if you had known your father would’ve been killed that horrible night those years ago that you would’ve interfered without hesitation

• So he was not confident that you’d agree with him and well over half of the rest of the spider variants that this is something that must occur

• And he feared the confrontation with you, he feared the hate he’d no doubt see in your eyes when you find out this is where he stood on his opinion about the situation

• He wasn’t wrong either, because when Miles had returned and they all had cornered him after Miles discovered that Spot would be the cause, you didn’t take it all that well—

You were conflicted, you cared about Miguel but you’re morals and beliefs were very important to you— defined who you were. They were instilled into you by your father and you truly believed that by following through with them to the end you were keeping his legacy alive.

And they were loud in your ears right now, deafening in their prominent voice as you watched Miles get more and more tightly wound.

The thing was.. you agreed with him. And your father would’ve agreed with him too. There is no way Miguel knows for absolute certainty that Miles’ universe would collapse if he saved his father. And there’s no way any of the other spider variants could possibly know either.

There were facts and evidence on Miguel’s side but again— your values were speaking much louder than him. Because your father would’ve been disgusted by the behavior these spider variants were displaying, and he would’ve straight up hated Miguel. That you were absolutely sure of.

“This is wrong Miguel,” you spoke up and the spider variant you were speaking of turned to look at you. “You’re just going to let someone die when you know you could change the outcome? How could you possibly think that’s okay?”

“[Y/Name]—”

“Spider-Man isn’t about the acceptance of loss and grief yet to come, Spider-Man is about hope, hope and promise of a greater tomorrow. Hope that there will always be someone there to help… someone there to protect those who can’t do so themselves.”

“The security of the multiverse is important!” Miguel argued, his tone aggressive and his expression frustrated as he ignored the ache on his chest. The ache that had erupted into existence at the expense of his theory proving correct— you would be against him.

“No! What’s important is not standing by and allowing someone to suffer or die! If that’s truly what you believe, then you don’t know the first damn thing about being Spider-Man!”

“[Y/Name]…” Peter B. trailed as he got your attention, walking closer to you and putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We cannot interfere.”

You smacked his hand off your shoulder and stepped back and away from him several times to be standing beside Miles instead. “You too? Peter this is wrong, so unbelievably fucking wrong!”

“[Y/Name], I can’t let you get in the way. I’m sorry.” Miguel apologized before he was throwing something at yours and Miles’ feet. The device activated and put up a scarlet force field, Miles panicked and beat against the walls. As the variants outside the force field argued you looked to Miguel and Miguel only. And he looked right back. You just stared at him, eyes hard and brows taut and pulled together as he stared right back.

You ignored Miles as he continued to search for a way out, Miguel finally pulled his eyes off yours as Peter B. advanced on him. “Miguel! This is taking it too far!”

“He’ll only do more damage, we all know that!”

As they continued to argue outside the shield you turned your back on Miguel and flexing your fingers extended your thick and powerful claws. You could tear this force field apart if you truly tried, that’s what you were going to do. But before you could even put your hands up your senses tingled and you instinctively put your arms around your head to protect yourself as the shield was destroyed by a powerful electrical surge.

When Miles destroyed the force field he hesitated for but a single moment before he turned, grabbed your wrist and took off.

“[Y/NAME]!”

You distantly heard behind you before you were freeing yourself from Miles to run beside him instead, and you two sprinted through Miguel’s headquarters with you leading him seeing as you’ve already been there for close to a little more than six months.

Getting out wasn’t hard, at least not for you. The variants certainly tried but they weren’t any match for you. A well seasoned and thoroughly trained hero with twelve years of polishing your expertise and craft to a fine point.

Miles had a little trouble keeping up but you didn’t get too far ahead of him in which he couldn’t follow, you two only got separated once. And whilst you weren’t entirely sure where he’d gone off to, you had the absolute pleasure of facing off against Miguel (note the sarcasm).

Your senses tingled as you discreetly swung through the underbelly of Miguel’s HQ, and you pulled yourself up just in time to avoid Miguel’s web. And the two of you fought and danced around each other throughout headquarters. Miguel trying to capture you and yourself avoiding that outcome at all costs by expertly evading him. When you had finally reached outside you met up again with Miles on the train overhead cover that was speeding upon a vertical track at astronomical velocity.

It was hard to hang on, even more so with Miguel on your ass but you made due. Better you than Miles and you’d gladly fend off Miguel for him if it meant he could find his way home to save his dad in time. Maybe it was a selfish part of you that wished something for him that you wanted to have, or maybe you truly just wished only the best for the younger variant.

Either way, Miguel was kicking your ass instead of his and you could live with that.

The 2099 Spider-Man choke slammed you onto the cold, hard metal of the futuristic locomotive and pinned you there by a hand around your neck.

“Can’t you see?! He’s the original anomaly! He’s not meant to be here! He is not Spider-Man!” The man snarled in your face. The anger he was feeling making his fangs appear and he sneered down at you, bearing them ferociously.

“He’s more Spider-Man than you’ll ever be!” You retaliated, attempting any sharp words pointed enough to cut him deep and painful. And you watched as his face turned and grew solemn for only one second before he was darkening his expression and snarling at you again.

“I hate to do this to you, but I can’t lose you over this!” He yelled over the roaring grind of the moving train. And your heart fell to your toes when he beared his fangs again— this time with a wide open mouth. A second later he was lunging forward intent to inject your body with venom.

You thanked whatever god above was listening for your much quicker reflexes as you caught him by the lower jaw and redirected his lunge to the air beside you instead.

Then you were bringing your legs up and forcing him away from you, not wasting a second you shot a web to the top car of the locomotive. You pulled yourself all the way up to where Miles had perched himself, and just before you could get a word out Miguel erupted out of nowhere and tackled Miles down.

You moved to help but got a web wrapped around your wrist instead, whoever shot it pulled you off your feet and then you found yourself under Peter B. Parker and Mayday instead.

“[Y/Name], enough!”

“No!”

“You can’t change destiny!” He argued, just as Miguel had done before, pinning you to the ground— though Peter’s was less of an attempt to capture you and just in a way to get you to listen to him.

“We control our own destiny Peter.”

“This’ll put the multiverse in danger! If you’d known your father would’ve been killed that night would you have saved him even if it meant there was an off-chance of your dimension being destroyed?!” Peter was just trying to reason with you now, and you stared directly into his warm brown eyes as you answered him.

“Without question.”

Peter drew back a bit at your response, then you watched behind him as Miguel flew overhead. That was your cue, so you grabbed Peter’s shoulders and utilized the enhanced strength of your specialty skills to push him off you.

Not enough to hurt him or Mayday but enough to give you space to escape, which you did. Once given enough breathing room to leap you leapt, jumping from the locomotive to fly through the air instead. Miles followed you, and Miguel was right behind.

You didn’t get much of that end of the chase, swinging directly to the headquarters and sneaking in past Kess and standing on the platform the machine usually used to send variants back to their proper dimensions.

It was minutes later when the machine suddenly came to life and you watched as the numerous screens turned on, looking a little closer you saw that it was Miles and that he was using his invisibility power to get the machine up and going.

Seconds later you felt his presence land beside you, and as the mechanical spider above lowered down and began creating the web to send Miles home and consequently you to his universe— Miguel erupted through the glass doors like a bat out of Hell.

And you stood back and watched as he sprinted to the platform’s edge, leapt over the gap and began furiously clawing at the web’s exterior.

Just as he was pulling it apart, the sequence completed and you and Miles were lifted into the air as the portal was created before the machine was throwing the two of you through the multiverse and into Miles’ universe.

• After the exhausting and frustrating chase, and even more annoying escape you and Miles had made.. you decided to follow him to his dimension, if only just to see that he’d be okay

• But he took off the second he was back in his own universe (or so you thought) and you were quick to follow, calling out his name in an attempt to get him to slow down but he did not listen

• So you just followed as he swiftly made his way to his apartment, only upon arrival you decided it might be best if you stayed outside which is exactly what you did, and you listened as he told his mom the truth and she responded with a question of her own not knowing who he was referring to

• When your spider senses started tingling uncontrollably is when you though something might be wrong so you webbed yourself to the roof of the building directly across Miles’ apartment and just observed from there

• As you watched him interact with a man that you assumed was his uncle your senses tingled again only it was too late to react when a muscled arm wrapped around your waist and a gloved hand covered your mouth, and then you were pulled backwards and through the portal into another dimension

• Upon arrival at the new universe you were pinned to the ground on your stomach by a heavy weight much larger and much stronger atop you, holding your arms in the small of your back and forcing you tighter against the ground

• You knew it was Miguel and you knew that unlike back at headquarters this pinch would be tighter to get yourself out of— so you didn’t intend to fight against him, you’d already done more than enough for Miles and on the off chance he still needed you then and only then would you fight for him again

• Until then, you’d accepted the fact you’d been captured, so you slumped to the rain soaked concrete of the building’s roof, and as you lay there you could only hope Miles had reached his father on time

—

a/n: Feel like it got kinda lame at the end but I hope you enjoyed the first post of the blog regardless! I’m super excited to get this blog started! Spiderverse is my hyper-fixation right now so that’s what I’ll be focusing on for a moment! Again, hope you enjoyed! Ciao!

[ronwestbreeze]

too fast

pairing: miguel o'hara x spider!fem!reader warnings: more angst summary: he should've stopped you... word count: 2.4k author's note: this will be the last installment! since we don't know what happens after atsv we're gonna leave it here for now! thanks for giving too slow so much and i hope you enjoy part 2!

part 1

If Miguel O’Hara had to guess, it all started going downhill when you accidentally discovered that your sister was going to die. It wasn’t supposed to happen, you finding out. Like everything else in a Spider person’s life, it was a canon event that was bound to happen, a significant event that would truly make you who you were now. The White Spider. An event that would happen naturally, like all tragic ones do.

Because the truth was, they happen. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

That’s what Miguel tried to tell you. That if you tried to interfere, then your dimension would unravel just as his did. He didn’t want that for you. Couldn’t want that for you. There were worse fates and that was one of them.

But of course, you were determined.

“Don’t tell me to stand by and let it happen, Miguel, all because of some stupid canon shit. Don’t tell me that.” You gritted out as you stalked down the hall, him right behind you.

“I am, Domino.” Miguel argued desperately. “I am telling you not to endanger your dimension over something that is supposed to happen. I am doing this to protect you—“

You whirled around on him, causing Miguel to stop short in front of you, “This is your way of protecting me? By telling me to stand by and let my sister die all because of some computer program?! Be fucking for real, Miguel!”

“Yes, because I know the dangers of what’s going to happen if you—”

“No, Miguel, no you don’t.” It hurt, your words. You knew what he had gone through, what he had lost. But you were too stubborn. He knew this. “I’m gonna try. Because that’s what we do. We try even if the odds are against us. That’s what all this shit that happened to me has led up to, right? Why stop now?”

It wasn’t like Miles Morales. No, this was before he learned that there were more forceful ways to stop something like this from happening.

He should’ve stopped you.

But things just fell apart too fast for him to keep up in the end.

Miguel practically dove through the portal to your dimension with Jessica and a few other Spider-men at his side. The crisis was a disaster. The Brooklyn Bridge was halfway in the water, cars either destroyed or hanging by black webs made by you. Immediately, Miguel and the others played damage control. There was yet another villain that had escaped their world and fell into another. This time it was a Green Goblin. One large enough to do this much damage.

It didn’t take long for Miguel to spot your white suit swinging about frantically, your head turning quickly every second. Which meant he had arrived just in time to stop you from making the biggest mistake you could’ve ever made for yourself and your universe. Miguel kept his eyes glued to you while leading people to safety. Until he spotted your sister’s car being thrown up in the air, quickly being caught by your black webs.

You were at the top of the bridge, trying to convince your sister to calm down, revealing your identity to her. Miguel landed on top of the bridge, you sent him a scowl and raised your hand, “Don’t!”

“You know what will happen, Domino.” He tried warning you. “One life or an entire universe? Over other families? Other brothers and sisters? What then?!”

You ignored him and shot a web down to your sister to grab onto. “If I don’t do this, then I will never forgive myself. I’m not like you, Miguel.” You looked at him pleadingly, desperately. “I can’t—”

The green hulking figure hurtled right into you, taking both you and Miguel off guard.

Your grip on your sister slipped but she was able to grab onto another web and hold on while you were preoccupied with the Green Goblin. A wave of rage—fear?—hit Miguel as he dashed toward the ugly beast, using his whole weight to throw it off of you and tackled it down to the ground.

“You don’t get to touch her!” He growled, pounding the goblin’s face until it was finally unconscious.

The bridge began to fall. Jessica began ordering every spider person around to quickly gather all the civilians left on the bridge. The top of the bridge where your sister was hanging began to crumble and Miguel watched as you swung back toward her.

He should’ve stopped this long before. He shouldn’t have let it get this far.

You were already dashing across the top of the bridge, Miguel had ended up behind you in seconds. You glanced over your shoulder at him, “Miguel, don’t!”

But he ignored you and shot his scarlet webs toward your figure. But of course, you were quicker than him, You always were.

His webs had missed. The web holding your sister up snapped. She was falling.

And you had dived after her.

Miguel leaped off the bridge, shot a thick web toward you and above him. In seconds the fall had stopped. You were now hanging and attached to Miguel’s web while the other half of his web kept him attached to what was left of part of the bridge.

But your webs had already been released.

You had already caught her.

No. No. No. No. No.

You had been too fast for him.

When the adrenalin cooled down a bit, you shot your head up at him, the angered glare evident on your face, “Were you really about to fucking stop me?!”

Instead of acknowledging your anger, Miguel shot back, “Do you realize what you’ve done?!”

“I saved my sister!”

“You’ve given your universe a death sentence!” Miguel shouted. “Why do you have to be so fucking selfish?!”

“Selfish?!” You snapped. Now you were quite pissed. Truly, he had never seen you this angry before now. He supposed that it made sense that it would be him to cause this. There had been many close calls. Now, it was different. You couldn’t keep your resolve. “I didn’t invade another universe and replace a girl’s father! Did you ever think that your situation was different?! Did you ever think that what you did was a lot worse than me saving my sister?! You can’t project your problems onto me, Miguel. It’s not the same and you know it—”

“Did it ever occur to you that I did this because I love you?” Miguel hissed. “Did it ever occur to you that I couldn’t bear to watch you lose everything over the same mistake I made?! Did it, Domino? Did you ever stop and think—”

“Wait.” He realized then that you weren’t looking at him anymore. Instead you were looking down. At the end of your web. “If I screwed everything up, then how come my dimension isn’t unraveling?”

The way you asked this, the way you posed the question made him go silent for a moment. Because he just then realized things weren’t changing. Other than the chaos that was happening around them already, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. No holes in the dimension. Nothing disappearing.

“I….” Miguel looked back to you, “I….M-Miguel I saved her, didn’t I?”

He still couldn’t respond.

You reached your web up and tied it to Miguel’s wrist before snapping his web attached to you apart.

“Domino—”

But he watched you fall toward the bottom.

It didn’t take him long to get there too. It didn’t take him long to see the limp body attached to the end of your web. It didn’t take him long to realize that your universe wouldn’t unravel any time soon.

Your sister was dead. Just like it was supposed to….

This was supposed to be better. This was supposed to be what kept you and your universe safe.

Miguel O’Hara always made the tough calls. The decisions that no one else could.

So why did it feel like the dimension was tearing itself apart in front of his eyes? Why did it feel like you were going to disappear at any second? Why did it feel like he had already lost you even though you were right there.

He did. He lost you.

You slipped from his fingers so fast…

“Is this what you wanted?” A weak whisper left your lips, your back still turned to him.

There were no words he could say that could fix any of it.

Miguel removed his mask, so that you could see his face. So that you could see how sincere he was. Only for you to see. Only you mattered in that moment.

“Sometimes you can’t stop what’s meant to happen.” When you glanced over your shoulder at him, when you looked at him through glassy eyes—your mask now gone—it made the words a lot harder to force out, “I never wanted any of this. Not like this…”

Jessica and the others arrived but didn’t say anything. Jessica had been one of the people on Miguel’s side about the whole ordeal, but even she was smart enough not to say anything. You were already hurting too much.

You glared at him through the water falling from your eyes, you glared at Jessica, you glared at all of them.

“Well, congratulations.”

“Y/N…” Jessica tried, only she went silent when she noticed your sister’s body limp behind you. There was nothing to be said.

You tore off your bracelet and threw it at Miguel’s feet. “You saved the canon, O’Hara. You should be proud.”

After that, you stopped coming to HQ. Except for that one time when you announced you were quitting the society for good. After that he stopped seeing the White Spider swinging around your dimension and stopping bad guys. The only time he saw you don your suit was to fight a new villain called the Electro. After that, he hadn’t seen you in the newspapers nor social media ever again.

This wasn’t something he really didn’t see coming. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure if the canon knew this was what exactly would happen after your sister’s death. That you would just stop being the White Spider. That you would give it all up.

Fuck. Of course this would be the last straw. He knew you. He met your sister multiple times.

You weren’t like Miguel. You would not bounce back easily. That was never you.

He should’ve stopped it. He shouldn’t have let it get that far…

The fight on the train didn’t last for long. Like you had said beforehand, you hadn’t planned on fighting him. Only keeping him at bay so that Miles was given time to go back to his dimension. So you had gotten your licks in, getting to kick your man’s ass was something so refreshing and should’ve happened sooner if you were being honest.

You landed a few kicks at Miguel—his waist, face, and legs—before he grabbed you and threw you off the train. But you fell gracefully, knowing that you had done your part. So you entered your data into your bracelet, a portal appearing behind you.

“He’s just a kid, Miguel.” You called.

The last thing you saw was Miguel, an unreadable expression on his face as you disappeared through the portal.

Gwen had recruited you to help Miles a couple hours after you had gotten back to your dimension. Apparently, he had been sent to the wrong Earth so now it was your job to track him down and help him complete his goal. Helping him succeed at something that you couldn’t.

So before you started this long fight, the long journey ahead, you went to your sister’s grave. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were here. After the funeral, you weren’t sure you even came here alone yourself. Just to see her.

It hurt too much before. It only just kept reminding you how much you failed. Why you stopped being the White Spider. Why your relationship with Miguel could never quite be the same.

Your spine shuddered and you turned your head slightly away from your sister’s grave. “It’s kind of insensitive to do a sneak attack when I’m visiting my sister, O’Hara.”

Behind you, Miguel stood a little further away. His mask was off. You didn’t move from your sister’s grave and he didn’t move from where he stood. The two of you took to staring at each other for a long moment.

Since it didn’t seem like he was going to say anything first, you sighed, “Don’t act so surprised. I thought you knew me better than that—”

“I thought I did too.” Miguel scowled, though the harshness was mixed with something looser. Something that would’ve made you crumble on the spot.

You cleared away some of the dead rose petals from the last bouquet of flowers that were left here, “Is that what you came here for? To berate me  into changing my mind? I’m convinced already—”

“I’m not here to convince you. How can I do that when you won’t listen to reason?” Miguel hissed. “If you are willing to die over this, destroy another universe, then…” You looked at him fully then. Perhaps you were too far away to see, perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn his eyes were red. Not from his unique abilities.

The emotion in his eyes, god you wanted to look away. You didn’t want your resolve to fail again. Not this time.

This time was too important.

“Then what?” You asked him quietly.

Miguel never responded to your question. He ducked his head down for a moment. The words that left his mouth almost barely audible. “How many times will I have to lose you, Domino? How many times will you leave me?”

You stood and slowly inched toward the man. Cautiously, you gently grabbed his face once you were close enough and leaned your forehead against his. Your thumb caressed his cheek. His larger hands wrapped around you until his face is buried into your neck, practically inhaling your scent.

God, it was always like this. One moment you were in each other’s arms and in the next throwing each other off of trains or running until neither of you could run anymore. Moments like this, the gentle, the quiet. It never lasted.

In the next moment Miguel wasn’t in your arms anymore. You weren’t on your Earth anymore. Now you were flying about in search for Miles, hoping to find him before Miguel and his gang did. You were never sure when the two of you would ever find that semblance of peace again. Those moments were gone in seconds and you were back to the real world. That’s how your cycle went.

That was your canon.