#too self indulgent to add more tags

[cherrysha]

Fight

Pairing: Phinks x Reader

A/N: idk what this is... smthn short for the blond bastard himself... not edited at all purely half baked smut.

Word Count: 700

Warnings: Manhandling

“Want you to work for it.” he smiles down at you, eyes bright as you try to wriggle free from his grasp. He’d taken your phone in a fit of jealousy, lamenting at how addicted you’d been to scrolling and ignoring him.

 He was so childish at times, and sometimes that was part of the appeal. For now you could admit his playful tone and wandering hands had you in a bratty mood. He’d started this fight and you were determined to finish it.

You’d been locked in this wrestling match for over half an hour, but only now did he choose a new tactic. His hands are tight on your wrists, forcing you to arch up against him as you try to pull away. His hips grind down into your own, and try as you might, you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you. Just like him to play dirty, a cocky smile plastered to his face at the way your attempts to get away quickly died with every thrust against your core.

He stills and it takes you a moment before you’re struggling again. Phinks laughs at your renewed vigor. After a few moments of your fruitless attempts to break free, he decides to take pity on you as he lets your hands go. As fast as you were able you scramble backwards, giggling as he lunges for your hips, tearing the fabric of your shorts in the process.

“You’ll pay for that.” you mock growl at him. Phinks laughs again, his chest heaving with the motion and you take the opportunity to slam your body against his, knocking him over in the process. You scramble to keep the upper hand this time, both of you fighting to control the other’s movements, with you also trying to force your hand into his sweatsuit pocket that contained your phone. Unfortunately for you Phinks was much quicker, and stronger. In no time he had your wrists pinned in your lap with one hand, the other grabbing your hip as he thrusted upward, forcing you to whine at the sensation. 

“You’re so fuckin’ bad at this, sweetheart.” He chuckles, grinning as you throw him a petulant look.

“If I’m so bad at this, then let go of my hands.” the taunt, as it always does, works and Phinks acquiesces. His nature was so predictable, easy to take advantage of if you played your cards right.

You lunge for his throat, gripping tight enough to shock him, laughing at the look on his face.

When he easily pries your hands away, you squeal, hastily trying to reorient yourself on top of him before his hand roughly grabs at your hips.

“Good job baby….goin’ straight for the throat” his breath is warm against the shell of your ear “shoulda squeezed a little harder. Then, maybe you would’ve won.”

—

“Try to get out of this one baby.”

He’s got his arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling them up to your chest as his hands clasp tightly behind your head. You don’t know how exactly you’d gotten into this position. All you knew was that Phinks had successfully rendered your body and mind into putty. 

“C-can’t Phinks” you whine, breathless as his cock drags in and out of you.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ quitter.” he growls, hips snapping up and into you at a punishing pace, uncaring that the angle is driving you to the brink of sanity.

The only sound in the quiet room was the incessant slap of skin on skin. Everything felt hazy, the air heavy as you take breath after shuddering breath.

“Just flex your legs, baby. Break my hold and you’ll be free.” You try to do as he says, but the heat in your abdomen belies any fight you have left in you. The struggle only seems to make Phinks laugh again, the movement forcing your head further down so the only thing you can see is the way Phinks’ cock obscenely fills you with a wet squelch. 

His bare chest is warm against your back, heat radiating through you as you try to focus. The overwhelming feeling of being stuffed full only worsened with the angle of which he was driving into you.

“Much better than bein’ on that damn phone, huh?”

[averlym]

ghostwriter (their grandma would tell them she'd lose half her soul)

[rotisseries]

inspired by elli's poll lol cause this seems fun actually but if you guys have bad answers I'll kill myself on your doorstep or smth

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (without plot), dom!xavier (and a very sub!reader), slight power dynamics, nothing too extreme but xavier is a little mean here, slight themes of possession and jealousy (ft. jeremiah mention like... once), sensory play (blindfold), light bondage, biting, marking, teasing, orgasm denial, begging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, heavy petting, nipple play, clit play, fingering, rough sex, vaginal sex (unprotected), creampie, dirty talk, praise, use of pet name "angel". lmk if i missed any tags! ((unedited!))

wc : 4.1k (...yeah... of pure filth actually...)

an : as usual, very self-indulgent on the part of yours truly !! inspired by "red lights" (and yes, as always, listening to the song adds to the vibes) and our very beloved "no restraint" trailer, but it doesn't actually reference the pv so this is entirely separate <3

taglist : @spotted-salamander @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valvinny @rafayelsheart @star-anons-blog @hunters-association (SIGN UP HERE)

"Focus on me, angel."

Quiet words against your skin.

Your chest heaved, breathing heavy, wrists bound tightly together against the bedpost—his fingers grazed over your cheek in that moment, and the touch was familiar. It was soothing, almost. Like a soft caress that the two of you would often share together, it had your head tilting towards him, leaning into his touch as much as you could help it.

He had you right where he wanted you.

You had no choice but to focus on him.

Just... not in the way that you would have expected to.

Your wrists tugged slightly at the ribbons that restricted you, a small whimper falling from your lips.

You couldn't see.

Every touch against your skin had you jolting, every trail of his fingers on your jawline, down your neck, over your shoulders... All of it felt so heightened. Your vision was shrouded in darkness. The silk that covered your eyes was bound tightly, not a semblance of light could have creeped in from the room that had already been dim from the start. He had you lost in a swirl of the unknown.

And it had been this way for hours on end.

His fingers pulled out of your cunt with a wet schlick, your body writhing as you let out yet another cry.

But he wasn't listening to you.

Instead, he sighed.

"I said," he murmured—and you flinched at the sudden feeling of his breath against the shell of your ear—"focus on me."

His voice dropped an octave lower as he completed his statement, and it was unfair.

"I-I am!" you protested. "It's too much, Xavier, I-I can't... I can't keep holding it, please I just—!"

"Shhh."

The mattress shifted beneath you. His warm hands slid across your bare skin, his body warm next to yours—slow, intentional, precise movements, thumbs digging into your flesh in what could have been considered a sort of massage. It was enough to ease you out of the orgasm you'd almost had, the coil in your stomach loosening as you felt every beat and every flutter of your pussy so wantonly.

And then you felt his head dip down.

In an instant, his lips attached to your neck—

"I know, angel, I know. I have you. Just focus on how it feels."

But you were feeling too much.

Too much, all at once, for all this time, and yet—

It was so hard to resist him.

He knew that.

And it was nearly by instinct how your head tilted, allowing him more access, allowing yourself to feel the way his lips would curl into a little, self-satisfied smile. You didn't need to see him to know it was there; you didn't need to see him to know how it looked like. You knew him well enough.

And you were melting at it.

Gradually he began to explore the rest of your body with featherlight touches, as if to soothe the way he'd been edging you endlessly over the past several minutes. He ghosted over your skin with the tips of his fingers, enough to have goosebumps prickling in their wake; his hands moved up to cup your breasts, inching closer to where he knew you needed him most, but still—only barely touching.

And then you barely had a chance to react, before his teeth sunk into the nape of your neck. The sudden action, a sensation intensified by having your sight so cruelly taken away from you, had you arching your back with a moan.

In the next second his thumbs rubbed over your nipples as he suckled at your skin to leave an array of bruises, a deep chuckle reverberating against you. Slow, rhythmic circles, lithe fingers taking your nub and finding pride in the way they would stiffen and peak under his touch...

You knew that he was watching you.

You knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

And you knew why he was being like this. Relentless teasing, always enough to bring you to the precipice but never allowing you to topple over it... Now, he was taking it slow again, but you were sensitive enough to be reacting to everything.

"Xavier...." you whimpered. Slowly, his hand trailed down over your stomach to rest over your thigh.

"Yes?" he murmured.

A shiver went down your spine at the raspiness in his voice.

"You want me here again?"

He spread your legs without waiting for you to answer, a finger trailing upwards and nearly excruciatingly close—only to trace gentle, feathery shapes into your inner thigh.

You groaned.

"Xavier.... Please! Please just touch me—"

"But I am touching you."

You knew that he was smiling.

"Not like that! Do it... Don't do it so gently! Don't tease me! Stop playing with me!"

He hummed, and his hand inched even closer. You could feel the heat radiating off of the mere proximity, your walls clenching around virtually nothing, your breath hitching with anticipation.

But it never came.

"...I don't know."

You were nearly appalled at how genuinely nonchalant he sounded.

"You know what you've been doing to me all day. Teasing me like that... then giving all that attention to Jeremiah when you should have been looking at me."

"I-I didn't mean to! You know he's only just a friend, you know that I—nngh—!"

He leaned in to pull at your earlobe, taking it between his teeth before letting out a soft laugh at the way your body seemed to squirm in response.

"But... That doesn't change anything. Next time don't talk to him like that when you're wearing such a short skirt." A soft blow against your ear, and he made it clear that he was enjoying the goosebumps that littered over your skin as a result. "Besides... I thought you were too sensitive, since you've been reacting to everything so much. Now, you want... more? You're so greedy..."

You could nearly cry.

You felt his other hand squeeze at your breast to make a point, and you felt him shift ever so slightly—

"You're all sloppy, angel. You've made such a mess. I can see it, how wet you are..."

A pause.

"...Mm. You want me to touch you there, right? Feel my fingers inside you again? You must be really warm, still..."

Again your wrists tugged at your restraints, your eyes squeezed tightly shut against the blindfold. Your heart beat so loudly in your chest that you couldn't dream to listen over it for his movements—his words felt so simultaneously innocent as they were dirty, and the calm in his voice did nothing to soften its effects.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Xavier, please!" you begged. And whether intentional or not, you found yourself lifting your hips, pushing against him. It was enough for you to feel the slightest graze of his fingers against your cunt, nearly driving you insane with the way he curled his hand into a fist and have you coat his knuckles in your juices.

Then he let out a hum, and you knew what that meant.

He was watching you.

And he was fascinated.

"Do you like that?" he questioned aloud, and it almost pained you how full of wonder his voice seemed to be. "You really are so sensitive."

Your next moans were swallowed into a kiss as his hand remained placed between your legs, stationary at the perfect distance for you to grind against him. The other continued to knead at your breasts, occasionally pausing to roam over your skin, and he murmured—

"Pretty. You're so pretty when you're needy like this."

You couldn't see him, but you could have sworn that the smirk that was likely on his face was anything but innocent.

Yet, his hands drew away from you, and he laughed.

"Xavier!" you cried out. Your hips lifted, as if to chase that same sensation, your clit throbbing with a need that could have had you thrashing around had you not been tied into place.

"Shhhhh, shhh. Relax... Just relax."

A kiss over your blindfold, this time, had you placated enough to swallow your pleas into what felt to be a choked stob. His lips traced over your eyelids, to the tip of your nose, to your lips once more. And then his kisses began to trail further south. Down your neck, through the valley of your breasts, over the skin of your stomach and past your navel—

Only to stop.

And then he began, again, to kiss upwards.

By the time he'd reached your lips once more, your breath was shaky and erratic, the corners of his mouth turned up in another smile you knew to be one of satisfaction.

Now, the scent of his shampoo, the scent of his skin was heedy in the air, mixing in with your own arousal. The room smelled of lust and desire, and these were the only other grounding sensory details you could latch onto as your head continued to spin. Because he truly, truly had you under his complete control. He could have you bending and writhing under his touch without a second thought, the reins of your pleasure embedded into his every being.

"Xavier.... Xavier, please," you cried. You'd lost count of the number of times his name had fallen from your lips out of sheer desperation. "Please, I'm so empty! I need... I need you, I need something—"

A sharp gasp fell from your lips, effectively cutting you off.

"Something, like... This?"

A single breathless whisper against your ear, before you felt him prod at your entrance and slid slowly, slowly back inside you.

"So, so warm."

His voice was a soothing lull, almost an irony to the way that he was treating you.

All the while, wet noises followed every movement of his fingers as he fucked you slowly—gathering your creamy slick when he pulled out, only to plunge right in with a little hum of wonder that had you keening. Easily, he had your hips bucking into his palm. Your back arched; it was an instinctive reaction to follow the movements of his hand as if you were merely a puppet of his desires—every pump of his finger had you moaning unabashedly, only a slave to the lust that he'd awakened in you.

And with the silk around your eyes still fastened in its place, the darkness surrounding your vision made even the tiniest things feel all the more pleasurable.

You could feel how long and slender his fingers were, reaching so deep inside of you, curling against your sweet spot. You could feel the stretch of your pussy with the scissor of his fingers, a stretch so delicious that the burn of it went straight to your head to have your eyes rolling back.

And it felt so good.

...But as always, he would be so. Excruciatingly. Deliberate.

His ministrations brought you a pleasure so indescribable, yet it wasn't quite enough.

You knew what he was doing. He would bring you back into a patten you'd become familiar with: you would be speared on his fingers relentlessly, at a pace so frustratingly lacking, creaming over his fingers without quite bringing you over the edge.

"Xavier!"

Yet another choked sob to fall from your lips. More tears pricked at your eyes, too, though he would have likely been unaware given the fabric concealing that was concealing them. "Please... Please, faster! Please... I need to cum!"

It was like a trigger.

Immediately at your words, his thumb brushed lightly over your clit before he pulled away, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, angel... I don't want to let you."

The sudden momentary stimulation against your clit had your vision going hazy. You thrashed around desperately as another cry tore fron your lungs, your legs squeezing together tightly— the throbbing in your cunt was becoming absolutely unbearable.

You were so close.

You were so close.

It was slipping away.

"No!" you cried. "Nngh, no, no, please! Please, Xavier! I've been so good for you! Please, please, you have to—I have to—"

This time his other hand moved to tangle into your hair, and he placed another chaste kiss over your lips.

"But... Have you been good? When you've teased me all day? You know... Just now, you've also been begging nonstop, even if I keep telling you not to. I don't know if I should be calling you good."

A pause, and a whimper on your end.

"...But you're pretty. I can give you that."

Another kiss, and another, and another, as your orgasm slowly faded away and you were rendered a panting mess beneath him.

But he wasn't done.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks when he opened you up again, fingers delicately tracing your folds, the stimulation enough to make you jump. This time, you didn't have to say anything before his fingers were back inside you, fucking your cunt, squelching noises resounding in the room with how he would plug your hole full with every thrust.

It was humiliating, almost.

All you could do was focus—on the sensation, on the sound, on the way he would whisper soft, loving words into your ears as if he weren't completely ruining you for him in this moment.

"So wet n'messy..."

Your walls fluttered around him, clenching on his fingers—

He clicked his tongue.

"Ah-ah, angel... Again? So soon?"

You heard him sigh as his fingers slipped away from you once more, and your entire body jerked with desperation.

"Xavier!!!" Your chest felt suffocating, sobs of his name falling from your lips. "Xavier! Xavier, why! Why do you keep—Why won't you let me finish!! Xavier, please!!!"

Your wrists felt numb with pain as you struggled against your restraints, and you knew that your face was wet with tears. The blindfold was drenched; you could only keep your eyes squeezed shut, sniffling helplessly.

It was gone again.

You ached; your breathing wild and heavy. You didn't know what to do. He had you utterly ruined.

"You know why, angel. Should I do it again until you understand?" he whispered. His lips fluttered against yours, teasing a kiss.

He wouldn't even give that to you anymore.

"No!" you sobbed. "No more... Xavier, no more! Please... Please, please just make me cum! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I—I won't do it again—"

His fingers glided over your lips this time, and it was almost pathetic how easily your mouth opened in response. The tangy taste of your slick was unmistakable. He slid his fingers into your mouth for you to taste more.

This way, you couldn't speak properly.

There would be no other way to convey your desire, if not to thrash around and have him watch.

Another hum. "I think... Not."

And he would keep doing it.

Your cunt was red and swollen to the point of overstimulation. Your vision blurred; your head felt fuzzy. You were tired.

Every touch, even the slightest brush against your skin—against your clit—had you gasping. You were too hyperaware of everything he was doing. Worse, again, was the fact that you couldn't know of what else he would do to you—couldn't anticipate it.

Another tap against your nub, a pressure enough to flick it slightly, before snaking your hand up your waist to soothe you with another gentle caress.

You were sobbing.

"Mean!" you weeped, "You're so mean, Xavier! So cruel! I can't—I can't anymore! You have to make me cum... You have to!"

It hurt.

It stung.

And you felt him sigh, so used to your pleas at this moment that you wondered if he had gotten so desensitized to them by now.

"So I'm harsh, and cruel?" There was a teasing lilt to the calm of his voice this time, and you choked out a gasp as you felt the tip of his cock press tip against you.

He shifted, and the blindfold was slipped off of your face. Wet with your tears, he discarded the cloth carelessly around his room, and finally, finally, you were able to see him.

The room was dim, but the blue in his eyes remained striking—always an ocean you could drown in, willingly.

Only tonight, that wasn't what he wanted from you.

His hand found its way to your chin, and he tilted it downwards. Just a little, you felt—saw—the tip of his cock press into you.

"Do you want this?" he murmured. He kept your gaze in place, pressing in a little deeper still. But you were aware at how his gaze never strayed away from you. Observing. Attentive. "You feel empty, right, angel? You want me inside you? Maybe I've been too mean to you... I'm sorry... Next time, you shouldn't tease me too much..."

You let out a slow breath.

"Please."

Your voice was shaky.

And he leaned in, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze again before his lips met your cheek. In a flutter of movements he kissed your tears away, hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Watch," he said.

His voice was soft, but it was something like a command.

"Watch. And no take-backs."

You didn't have time to react, then.

Once more your gaze was directed towards your pussy, throbbing with a need for attention—and your eyes went wide.

He thrust inside you without a second of warning. The entrance was sudden—unexpected. Filling. Any words you'd been thinking to speak fell immediately to a shocked silence, your mouth falling open in a noiseless moan. And all at once, you were made entirely aware of the stretch of your walls, the length of his cock a slow, frustrating slide until the numbnessmelted away enough for you to feel full.

His weight shifted.

You felt caged between his arms, his breath hitting directly above you, legs slotted between yours. There was space for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you did—

And he started off slow.

Low grunts as his hips rolled against yours, a thrust so fluid and deep that your figure pressed deeper into the mattress. You groaned in response when he repeated the motions; pulling out only to thrust all the way back in, the slap of his skin against yours a testament.

"Not empty..." he rasped. "Not empty 'nymore. I'm filling you up... So warm and pretty for me, all for me..."

His words made your head spin, but despite the desperation laced into his tone, he refused to pick up the pace. You whined, your hips raising to meet his thrusts as if trying to coax a faster pace, but he didn't listen. Instead, he clicked his tongue—with a mewl on your end, he pinned your hips to the bed, preventing you from moving.

"Xavier!" you protested immediately, feeble attempts to wrestle free from him.

"No."

A harsher tone, as he grinded against you to elicit another choked sob.

"But whyyy! I thought you—you said you—"

You threw your head back at a particularly deep thrust, and again his hand was back on your chin.

"I'll set the pace. Don't move, angel. Or I'll pull out."

Xavier usually wasn't like this.

You couldn't quite tell if he was enjoying your torture, or if he was simply this upset over everything that had happened, but the ache you had all over your body right down to the throbbing of your cunt was too, too much for you to bear.

The way his hair fell over his face, his eyes narrowed, eyebrow arched almost menacingly—it brought tears to your eyes once more, and all you wanted to hear from him was another word of reassurance.

For a moment, his eyes softened.

"Don't cry... Don't cry anymore..." He leaned in to nuzzle against your nose, before pressing his lips to yours in a light, gentle kiss. "What do you want, angel? You want me to go harder?"

Feebly, you nodded. At a sharp thrust of his hips, you drew in a sharp breath.

"Like that?"

Another nod.

And this time, he smiled—and it was genuine.

"Okay. Then stay still and let me. You can do that for me, right, angel?"

His hips began to move again, and you were relieved to feel the slight reprieve he was granting you by slowly picking up the pace. Yet again your gaze found the outline of your cunt, zeroing in almost immediately on the way his cock sunk into you and disappeared eagerly into your dripping folds.

He was right.

You were an absolute mess, if the sloppy sounds of sex weren't enough to prove it. The sheets were stained so clearly with your arousal, and the truth was that you didn't quite need him to be rougher with you. Just the mere sensation of being filled up, the friction of his shaft against your gummy walls, was enough to have you arching your back to meet his thrusts.

"Close!" you cried out, desperately rutting against him. "M'close, Xavi, please, please— Let me...!" You saw the smirk on his face, the way his eyes narrowed. Part of you had to wonder if he would pull away again—

But he didn't.

Instead, his hips moved faster, drilling into you in a pace so relentless that your eyes grew wide with shock.

In fact, he didn't stop at all.

He'd haphazardly reached out to yank you free from your bounds, but when you finally reached your peak, it was a crash that had you reeling. A scream of his name and curling of your toes were barely enough to describe it—your vision had gone white, your body fixed into a tremble that almost seemed not to stop. It didn't matter that you had just spilled onto his length, clenching around him with every loud cry that tore from your chest. You were raw, and sore, and used—but that was no longer any of his concern.

He kept his thrusts up.

He would drive you into the mattress, every movement made to slam his hips into yours harder, faster, skin slapping against skin so loudly that the sound of it near-challenged the unintelligible moans that spilled from your lips.

It was torture.

Yet it was so good.

"Ye- es!" you cried out. "Yes, ye—aaanh— y-yes—! Like that! Like tha—hnn—! Xavi— Xavier—!"

You couldn't help but have your eyes roll back into your head, allowing him to grip your waist and steady himself, giving himself the leverage to fuck into you deeper, to stretch you out so deliciously good. He kept your thighs spread apart, nails digging into your skin—and you were so sensitive. Over, and over... he would ram his cock into you and have you filled to the brim with him, never once giving you a second of rest.

And it was everything to watch him lose control just as easily because of that.

"Yeah... Yeah? Like this, angel? Mmh... Taking me so... s-so—hnng— so well, angel, l-look at you..."

Gasps and groans fell uncontrolled from his lips, a mixture between deep rumbles and a more high-pitched whine when you clenched around him just right.

"More... more," he shuddered. "Can't... can't stop, angel, you're so good, I need—need you—No one, haah, no one gets to fuck you like this, all pretty for me to use—"

Clumps of hair stuck to his forehead, skin sheen with sweat. His eyes held a haze of desire you could only ever see from him when he got like this, and it was all barely enough to keep your sanity from tipping over.

You were withering.

His hand moved down to rub against your clit, and the intensity of all of it had your vision going completely blank.

You could barely register anything anymore.

He would pull orgasm after orgasm out from you and you would lose count of it, only vaguely registering the hot stream of white that dripped out of you with how full you were.

"Xavier..."

Your voice was weak and raspy, your hands wrapping around him to pull him into you, against you—anything.

And he groaned against your neck.

"Angel.... one more, please, just— One more. You can give me 'nother. I know you can. Just, nngh—let me fill you up one more time... Gotta mark you all mi— mine— mine—"

He clamored to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Immediately you clawed at his back, a strangled cry of his name leaving your mouth... and he caved.

Yet you knew that this was far from over.

"Mmmhfffuck—! S-so tight, so—ah—!"

The last thing you registered was the desperate shut of his eyes, the near-frozen parting of his lips, and the string of curses formulated into his own moan of raw, unfiltered pleasure.

He was just as long gone as you were.

"Oh, angel... M'not— Not done with you yet at all..."

⁺₊ / an: guys i literally cannot stop thinking about him

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[lovelyhan]

— meet cute of the century ⟢

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 25.4k words

★ TAGS; meet cute, strangers to lovers, pining, discourse abt being an idol as a career, mild angst, smut

★ NOTES; it's finally done!! and it turned out to be the longest oneshot i've written ever T T i reaaally didn't mean it to become this long but i got overly self-indulgent so here we are :3c also psa that this story features a handful of other characters from the series, so if you find them familiar that's totally on purpose HEH

this is part of the doting on you! series.

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, service top wonwoo, praise kink, voice kink, first time together, fingering, creampie, ofc they're grossly in love

★ TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @coffeestay - @jkbabiey

★ SERIES TAGLIST; @ti--red - @jeonwonhi - @gyusbabydoll - @xiaoting999 - @marksluvr0 - @ohmyhuenings - @downbadreading

P.S. i reserve the right to refuse to add you to my taglist if you don't have any age indicators in your profile :^)

There are a handful of things that a college student can do with their free time. Studying, hanging out with friends, and maybe even picking up a hobby of sorts. You, on the other hand, use up all the hours you’re not spending on your undergrad thesis or sleeping the day away at an animal shelter just a few minutes away from your apartment. 

Your friends constantly wonder how you’re still able to maintain a remarkable GPA with a part-time job that’s starting to look full-time, but you just laugh their questions off for the most part—saying that other people have got it worse than you, but can still perform leagues better academically. 

You also tell them that most of your motivation comes from all the unadopted animals from the shelter. You started as a volunteer just to kill time on weekends when you’re free, but even if you knew better than to get attached to all those adorable faces, you eventually found yourself on the employee roster anyways. 

Now you’re rushing to finish your degree so you can get a neat sugar mommy job that’ll let you afford to adopt everyone that’s been stuck in the shelter for nearly a year or more.

Okay, maybe not everyone because you’re no fool with a savior complex. But just enough to give a few furry friends a new home, right?

“Don’t look now,” your coworker, Mina whispers conspiratorially while you’re in the middle of snacking in the break room, “but that cutie you’ve been crushing on just walked inside. He’s checking out the cats out in the playroom as usual.”

Right. Apart from your altruistic dream of adopting as many animals as your financial capabilities can allow, there’s another reason you’re always looking forward to your shifts at the shelter. A reason that you’re a bit too embarrassed to let your friends know about.

You nearly choke on a potato chip when Mina informs you of the news and she immediately breaks into a fit of laughter. Glaring at her, you compose yourself with a long gulp of water before saying, “I do not have a crush on him.”

“Sure,” she plays along. “If you consider making googly eyes at the guy every time he drops by as ‘not having a crush on him’, then I’ll concur.” 

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, sweetheart. Now get out there and sweet talk him into taking one of the kittens home! Pretty sure he wants one if he’s been showing up as much as he did for the last two months.” 

While you would’ve argued that the so-called cutie you’ve been crushing on could just like seeing the cats play around in his free time, you don’t really have much energy to play mental gymnastics with Mina. You’ve had a long day of revisions and other nonsense materials you have to submit for your majors, so you’ll let this one slide.

Your workplace is as bleak as every other shelter you’ve seen a few times in your life. Gray walls, concrete floors, and steel cages stacked on top of each other. It looks more like a prison than anything, really, but it’s the staff and those kind-hearted souls who rehome animals that have long been abandoned that give the entire place some life.

While Mister Cutie That You’ve Been Quote-Unquote Crushing On doesn’t exactly fall into either of those categories, you like to think he still leaves the building just a touch more colorful once he walks out of the front door. 

Speaking of color, he’s wearing a loose, dark green shirt that falls just below his elbows. Cutie—as you’ve deigned to call him not because you think he’s cute but because you’re yet to get his name—has one palm flattened across the viewing glass of the playroom. He’s wearing his usual black face mask today, but from the way his eyes glint behind his glasses, you’re just going to assume he’s having a good time just by watching the cats frolic inside.

“You’re here pretty late,” you state nonchalantly before standing a few feet away from him. 

“Is that so strange?” he murmurs with a chuckle, surprisingly not startled with your sudden entrance before glancing your way. “I always show up here at this hour, don’t I?”

God. No matter how many times you hear his voice, you just can’t get over how deep it is. But before any of your thoughts could show on your face, you get talking.

“True. You’ve sparked a debate among the volunteers about your line of work, actually.” Not exactly. You’re not sure if any of the volunteers have even seen this guy, since they mostly work day shifts. “Anyway, are you just here to check ‘em out or am I finally going to hand you the adoption papers?”

His eyes crinkle a bit before he shifts his gaze towards the playroom again. Most of the older cats have already been put back in their respective cages. All that’s left inside are the kittens with way too much energy to spare. The director, A.K.A., your boss, believes that it’s best to tire them out first before settling them into individual enclosures for the night. Keeps the place nice and quiet for the evening shift fellows like yourself.

“Not yet, sadly,” Cutie says with a sigh before pointing at a small black kitten huddled up in a corner. “That one’s new, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve seen him around before.” 

“Her,” you correct. “Her name’s Hani. She’s a stray that someone from the university I’m attending brought in last week. It was pretty ugly, actually. Poor thing got into an accident and was bleeding everywhere. Good thing our usual vet was paying a visit when they came here.”

“Oh? That’s a relief then. No wonder she’s got a little limp every time she walks around,” he observes with a saddened tone. “But I digress. You mentioned you were attending university?”

…Okay, why’d the topic of interest suddenly shift to you? 

But since it’s a harmless enough question, you reply with, “Yeah. The one that’s just a few blocks away. It’s kinda why the person who found Hani brought her here instead of a vet clinic. The nearest one’s like half an hour away.”

“Good call, good call.” He nods with a look of understanding. “I hope someone comes and adopts her. She deserves all the love she can get. Well, everyone here does of course.” 

You flash him a conniving smile, raising your brows a few times. “You could give that to her.”

Cutie shakes his head with another low-pitched laugh. “As much as I’d love to, my…living conditions won’t be suitable for her at all. Or any of the other animals for the matter.”

“Hm?” You stare at him curiously. “Your landlord doesn’t allow pets or something?”

“Mmm… Not exactly.”

The conversation pretty much ends there. Cutie excuses himself—saying that someone is waiting for him at home. You don’t know why your heart deflates a little at the very real possibility that he has a significant other. Then again, if you’re this whipped when you haven’t even seen his face, you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to settle down with someone who has.

Either way, it’s none of your business. And correction: you’re not whipped. Just…hyper aware of his presence every time he stops by.

Despite the fact that you’re dead-set on filing this strange fascination you have for the guy, however…

“Wait!”

Cutie turns around to face you with an inquisitive look. “Yes?”

You swallow thickly, deciding to just bite the bullet before your nerves get the best of you. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Cu—I mean, Glasses Guy in my head whenever you pay us a visit.”

He blinks for a few seconds, obviously nonplussed by your forwardness but you don’t think your pride can take it anymore if you had to refer to him as—

“You can call me Woo,” he says warmly and you can almost see the smile that stretches behind that black face mask.

Shit. Did your heart just stutter?

“Mister Woo—”

“Just Woo is fine.”

“Okay, Woo,” you start, kind of liking the way that something that’s obviously a nickname rolls off the tongue, “just let me know if you ever want to take Hani home. We’re open twenty four-seven, as you already know.”

He nods. “Sure thing. Is it okay if I can get your number for that?”

Now you have to fight the urge to scowl at him after he’s been so nice to you all night—and every other night he’s dropped by. 

This guy isn’t flirting with you. He said it himself—someone’s waiting for him at home. Plus, he’s expressed consistent interest in adopting a kitten for himself a handful of times before. Maybe he just connected with Hani on a level that’s above the others. Enough to ask for your number since the possibility of him bringing one of these angels home is becoming more and more real. 

Yeah, that’s definitely the reason!

So you give it to him—hastily scrawled behind an old flier gathering dust in one of the drawers on the front desk. It’s way too big to write just yours and the shelter’s contact details on, but the other calling cards are nowhere in sight. You’ll have to ask Mina if she’s seen them once—

“Thanks. I’ll keep in touch,” Woo tells you while folding the sheet of paper into a sleek black Louis Vuitton wallet.

Wait a minute.

Before you can even seriously ponder about what job he’s got to be able to afford that, Woo is already out of the door—heading into the evening streets without once looking back. 

“Gosh, I swear that guy’s an idol in disguise or something.”

That’s the first thing that Mina tells you when you find her doing a few rounds among the sleeping dogs in the far back. You haven’t even spoken a single word about your most recent exchange. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“He just exudes idol vibes, y’know? Shows up here when the place is deserted. Always acts subtle and inconspicuous. Oh and not to mention how hot he looks even with a face mask on! He could be that one idol your little sister is crazy about.” 

You roll your eyes at her odd ways of deduction. “Mina, I’ve seen enough of Haewon’s Mingyu merch to last a lifetime and Woo definitely does not look like him.”

“Oh?” Your coworker perks up with a mischievous smile. “You finally got his name, huh?”

God. This is going to be a long shift.

The next time you see Woo is, surprisingly, not at an ungodly hour in the shelter. 

Well, it’s still at an ungodly hour, but the change in venue is a little baffling. You were up all night studying (read: cramming) for a major exam that you’ll take at eight in the morning the next day. When you were finally at your wit’s end, you decidedly hauled yourself away from your laptop and fluttered off to the only twenty four-hour coffee shop in the neighborhood. 

You don’t usually frequent this place because you’ve tasted their shitty americanos firsthand, but you’re not in the mood to grind some beans yourself and you’re much too stubborn to drink anything instant—convinced the powdered concoction would only make you sleepier.

So here you are, in line for an espresso because you’ve decided to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe not everything on the menu tastes less than it’s worth. With how many other students are pulling all-nighters here, that should be testament enough that they tolerate the place’s drinks enough to linger. 

But, to your horror, when you’re right in front of the graveyard shift barista, he informs you that wireless payments have been temporarily disabled and that they’re only accepting cash up front. You make a show of patting down the pockets of your hoodie to check for your wallet even if you know damn well that you left it back at your apartment on purpose. Just when you’re about to resign yourself to buying shitty instant coffee at a Seven Eleven instead, the person behind you in line clears his throat. 

“Uh, I can pay for her drink.” 

You don’t think you’ve ever whipped your head around to check for a person’s identity faster than you did at that moment. It’s not that you’re particularly obsessed with the low timber of his voice or anything, but you’d recognize the way the shelter’s late night regular speaks in a goddamn heartbeat.

“Woo?” you scowl as he maneuvers himself to the front of the line, bringing out that same Louis Vuitton wallet you were ogling the last time you saw him. 

He pulls out a few banknotes and places them on top of the counter with what you think is a smile behind his mask. “Couple that with four iced americanos please.”

You purposely hold your tongue about your personal vendetta against that particular drink as the barista nods, punching in Woo’s order and asking for a name. Just when you thought he’d say the same one he’d given when you’d asked, however—

“Soonyoung. Oh, and I’ll get those drinks to go, please.” 

Your gaze is on him the entire time as the two of you shuffle to the end of the counter to wait for your drinks. Woo is doing a pretty okay job at playing it cool despite the fact that he lied about the names on his orders. Or maybe he lied when he told you his name was Woo. 

Either way, does it matter? It’s not strange for people to make up fake names for baristas to write on their coffees—Mina does it all the time. But something about the idea that the man standing in front of you doesn’t look like a Soonyoung bothers you more than it should. It makes you wonder what his actual name is and if it’s weird to ask when he already gave you one to address him with—

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he suddenly says and you nearly have a heart attack.

“Uh,” you start somewhat dumbly, before finally getting a hold of your brain. “I live around the area. Thought I could use a drink if I didn’t want to sleep through my lecture notes.”

He lets out a low chuckle and at that moment, you let yourself observe him a little more closely. His hair is hidden behind a black beanie which he expertly paired with an equally black parka that’s zipped up all the way. He’s wearing a different pair of glasses today—one with thick, black frames—and you’re starting to get an idea of what his favorite color might be.

“Is that why I haven’t seen you at the shelter these days?” he wonders. “Every time I dropped by last week, you weren’t on shift.”

Oh. Shit, he’s been visiting still? And he was looking for you?

“Yup, I needed to take a few days off because if I wanna graduate, I’ve got to keep myself from failing any of my majors,” you explain as briefly as you can—not wanting to go into detail about GPA requirements and your thesis. “How about you? Why’re you out and about at this hour, Soonyoung?”

It’s kind of adorable, how the tips of his ears flush pink at your words. “Soonyoung’s one of my friends. I actually went out tonight because I lost a bet and had to buy four of us coffee.”

You’re not sure how and why you feel a wave of relief wash over you, so instead, you brush the feeling aside before leaning against the counter. “Lost a bet about what, pray tell?”

Woo is quiet for a while, as if contemplating if he should unveil his losses to someone who’s virtually still a stranger before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Mario Kart.”

The snort you let out draws a few curious stares from other customers sitting near the counter and you force out an apology that’s underscored with a hiccup of laughter. Woo doesn’t seem at all offended by your reaction though. In fact, he seems even amused by it.

Not ten seconds later, the barista calls out his—rather, Soonyoung’s name and he hands you your drink while he carries a takeout package in his other hand. You try not to think too much about the way his fingers brush against yours when he gives it to you, thanking him despite the obvious redness settling across your cheeks.

“I actually meant to text you last week but I didn’t know if you were comfortable with it,” Woo admits as he opens the door to the coffee shop for you—thanking him as you step out of the air conditioned space and into the humid evening air. “I wanted to ask about the adoption requirements at the shelter.”

Part of you is a little skeptical about his explanation because… If he’s been dropping by your workplace as often as he claimed last week, then he could’ve just asked the other staff about the details. Why wait until he meets you again to bring it up? 

But of course, you’re way too polite to ask that to his face.

“I don’t mind you texting me about that or…anything, really,” you say, turning up the flap on the lid of your espresso before taking a small sip. Bearable. “It’s not like I’m too busy to respond to you. Well, I kinda am, but I can spare a few minutes.”

Woo nods with a soft laugh. “Okay. I’ll just get into detail via text later. I gotta bring these coffees back or they’ll chew me out for the rest of the night for being late. Oh, but do you need someone to walk home with you?”

The idea of having your not-work crush escorting you home flusters you more than it should and when you take another sip of your drink, it nearly goes down the wrong hole. Woo pats your back in comforting fashion when you sputter from your coffee, tears stinging your eyes as you attempt to breathe like a normal person. Fuck, you must look so fucking weird right now.

“I-I, um, sorry about that.” You cough into your fist, laughing uneasily as you grip your drink a little too tightly. “No, it’s fine. I only live a few blocks away.”

Now that you mention it, does that mean Woo is the same? If he’s out here in this specific neighborhood at this specific hour, that would only mean he lives in the area, or is at least staying for the meantime, right? But before you could get swept up by your own curiosity, you immediately sweep any and all ideas under the rug.

“Oh, that’s—that’s good to know.”

He sounds disappointed. Why does he sound disappointed?

“So I guess this is goodbye? ” you start. 

Woo nods briskly. “Yup. I’ll keep in touch.”

You chuckle. “That’s what you said last time.”

Whoa. Were you propositioning him or something? Sometimes, it baffles you how one minute, you’re choking on a cup of coffee—several shades embarrassed—and the next, you’re practically daring him to text you like he said he would.

“And I’ll make good on that as soon as time permits.” Woo shakes his head with a laugh. “It was nice seeing you again, though. Good luck with your exams.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat up yet again at the thought of him having remembered that you mentioned your exams. “Thanks. I think I need all the luck I can get.”

When Woo turns to look at you through those thick-rimmed glasses, you almost wish you could see the smile that’s undoubtedly spreading behind that pesky mask of his. 

“I’ll be happy to give it to you every time then.”

Today was probably the shittiest day of the week.

Not only did you spectacularly flunk the exam you took this morning whilst running on less than two hours of sleep, but your thesis adviser emailed you about several concerns regarding the latest version of your manuscript. Needless to say, you spent a good chunk of your day holed up in the university library, consulting new reference materials to back up your data since the ones you used were much too outdated for your adviser’s liking. 

It should’ve been something you’d consider a walk in the park, given the many revisions that have preceded this one, but it just so happens that you’ve got three more exams to worry about for the remainder of the week. Meaning, you had to squeeze in a few minutes of studying in between editing your newest draft and telling yourself that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if you got held back for one semester before graduating. 

You’ve been so caught up with your piling academic responsibilities that you’ve barely looked at your phone. You only deigned to dig it out of the deepest pit of your backpack when you got a little hungry and wondered if they still let food delivery guys past the school gates. To your surprise, you’re greeted with a few text messages that you immediately feel horrible for not replying to the moment they were delivered. 

Unknown Number [10:45]: So about those adoption requirements…

Unknown Number [11:33]: Oh. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. It’s Woo.

Ignoring the fact that you’re obviously famished, you hastily type in a response after marking down Woo’s number with a black cat emoji right next to his name. It takes a moment because you’re so shaky, you end up suffering from a few typos here and there.

Me [13:10]: hey! sorry i was a bit busy and i just saw these…

Me [13:10]: what do you wanna know? i’m on a self-imposed lunch break rn

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:15]: No worries, I figured you got a long day ahead. Hope lunch is good at least.

Me [13:16]: actually, i haven’t ordered anything yet ‘cause time got away from me but Anyways

Me [13:16]: you wanted details abt the adoption process?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:18]: What? You haven't eaten yet?

Me [13:18]: yeah, but it’s no big deal. i could just have some food delivered.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:19]: Well, I’m out right now. I could just buy some food for you and drop it off. 

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when you read each word of Woo’s text message. Is he being serious right now? The guy just paid for your coffee last night—a coffee that you forgot to pay back because of how surprising the circumstances were. Now he’s offering to buy you lunch?

Me [13:20]: you really don’t have to, i swear!! i’ve still got a few discount vouchers in baenim

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:22]: I insist. I’ve got my bike with me anyway.

Me [13:22]: bike? like, a bicycle?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:23]: Mmm. Close. Anyway, what food do you want? 

Now what the hell does that mean?

Part of you feels like you should be freaked out with how…kind he’s being to you. The world is full of weirdos who play the nice guy just to do something despicable to you in the end. Yet another part of you—a less reasonable one, admittedly—insists that Woo is nothing like that, despite the fact that you barely know the guy. 

Then again, you’re tired, stressed out, and barely slept a wink last night. If the hot guy you’ve been quote-unquote crushing on is offering to buy you food, where’s the harm in accepting?

Me [13:25]: fine. i could use some yangnyeom chicken and tteokbokki. 

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:26]: Nice. I know a good place. 

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:27]: I’ll head out in a few, so just text me the address.

Right after sending your university’s pin location to Woo, you start to consider the chance of him being some sort of serial stalker. Could he be biding his time, trying to let your guard down and easing personal information out of you so he could do something nefarious when he gets you alone? Fuck. Maybe it’s a good idea you didn’t let him walk you home yesterday…

But despite the very real possibility of Woo being someone with bad intentions regardless of how nice he is, you see no problem in meeting him at the school gates when he arrives with your food. In fact, you don’t even feel apprehensive of him in spite of all the ideas you conjured in your head over the past hour.  

Me [14:15]: where are you?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [14:16]: Parked by the curb in front of a bookstore. You can’t miss me.

 Me [14:16]: i don’t even know what you Look like today, genius

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [14:17]: I told you, I’ve got my bike with me. I don’t see anyone else looking the same way within a twenty meter radius. 

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. For someone you deemed as ‘nice’, he can get pretty mouthy if he wants to. 

You head to the general direction of the bookstore that Woo was talking about as you try to ignore your growling stomach. Given that the lunch rush is more or less over, the usual crowd of pedestrians has considerably thinned out and it makes it easier for you to scan the vicinity for any bike-wielding impromptu delivery guys. 

However, the only person that does stand out to you is some dude wearing a black leather jacket, chilling next to an expensive looking motorcycle as he taps away on his phone with a matching pair of leather gloves and everything. His face is obscured by a black helmet and you would’ve let your gaze go past him had it not been for a sudden realization that hits you right there.

Bike? Like, a bicycle?

Mmm. Close.

“Woo!” 

Of course the leather jacket-clad, expensive motorcycle-wielding man looks up at the sound of his name being called from across the street. The visor of his helmet is drawn all the way up and you could see that he isn’t wearing his glasses for good reason. He seems to perk up at the sight of you before grabbing something from the trunk of his motorcycle and jogging to meet you where you stood.

You’ve seen him sporting a spectrum of comfortable outfits during his late night visits, but this is the first time you’ve witnessed Woo looking as dapper as he is now.

“Late lunch delivery?” 

You don’t even try to hide the way you roll your eyes as you accept the paper bag he hands to you. “Thanks. How much do I owe you now? You already got me coffee and now lunch.”

He shakes his head and you find it a little ridiculous, considering he’s still wearing that huge helmet of his. “It’s on me. It’s the least I could do to repay you for being so accommodating.”

“Woo, I haven’t done shit for you ‘cause you’re yet to properly talk to me about the adoption process. What on earth are you talking about?” 

“But you will do shit for me when we do talk about it. I’m just repaying the favor in advance,” he rebuts cheekily before pulling back the sleeve of his jacket to check for the time. “Though as much as I want to do that now, I need to catch a flight in a few hours.”

That makes your expression morph into disbelief. “You need to catch a what?”

“A flight. Gotta head to Japan for a few days,” Woo tells you nonchalantly, as if heading to Japan for a few days is something people do on a regular basis. ��Can you make sure no one else takes Hani home before I can settle everything on my end?”

You tell yourself that you’ve got time to mull over what this guy does for a living some other time. Clearing your throat, you manage an awkward smile. “Um, yeah, sure thing. You’re really attached to her, aren’t you?” 

“You can say that again,” he laughs softly. “She kinda reminds me of myself from a long time ago… But anyway, I’ve gotta go. Tell me what you think about the chicken when you’re done with it?”

You nod. “I’ll be as brutally honest with my review as possible.”

“Just the way I like it,” Woo replies, eyes crinkling with amusement.

When you head back to the library, the person you were sharing a table with looked after your stuff for you while you were gone. You thank her profusely before settling back into your seat, grabbing the takeout packages from the paper bag that Woo personally delivered to you. 

Before you can start wolfing down the delectable-smelling chicken he brought, however, you notice a cute sticky note plastered on the lid—a doodle of a cat with glasses and a speech bubble that says you can do it~ scribbled on the corner.

Don’t overwork yourself. It’s been ages since my last exam, but I know how hard it can be. Make sure to eat properly so you can absorb all the info you need.

When your head bangs against one of the many wooden tables in the library, the person seated at the far end stares at you with a concerned look. You can’t muster the energy to assure her that everything’s alright, though because…

That quote-unquote crush of yours? 

It’s starting to become a little too real.

You’re in the middle of throwing out old files from the back room archive when Mina peeks her head into the doorway and says, “You’ve got a visitor again.”

One glance at the old wall clock hung above the steel cabinets tells you that it’s midnight, but you know for one that this mystery visitor isn’t Woo this time around. 

You’ve been keeping in touch with him through Kakao, since you can’t exactly afford to send international text messages to Japan and your new friend(?) has been keeping you posted about his shenanigans for the past week. He hasn’t replied to your last message from over three hours ago and you’re not so delusional to think he got on a plane back to Korea and is suddenly here to surprise you.

When you see who it is, though, your heart warms just a little.

“Why haven’t you been texting me back?” Haewon, your sister who’s two years younger, gets up from the seats lined up across the walls of the lobby. “I missed you!” 

You shake your head before pulling her into a hug. “I missed you, she says. But you’re really just looking for someone to show you around the city again, aren’t you?”

“Hey, missing you and needing a chaperone aren’t mutually exclusive,” she huffs and you notice that she’s in full fangirl gear again—a lightstick hanging off a strap slung across her shoulder, a windbreaker with her favorite boyband’s logo sewn on the front pocket, and of course, a photocard of Mingyu dangling from her little handbag.

Despite the fact that she’s also in college, Haewon chose to stay in your hometown in Jeju to pursue her studies there instead. The first few months since you left were the hardest—so unused to not having your little sister go on and on and on about how much she loves SEVENTEEN. But you’ve also come to appreciate the peace and quiet that living alone in Seoul affords you. 

Besides, with how much money she’s raised for being one of the more well-known event organizers in her fandom, Haewon can pretty much come visit you in Seoul whenever she feels like it. 

“I’m guessing your thirteen boyfriends have a thing going on?” you ask before glancing over at the playroom to make sure there aren’t any kittens left inside. 

Haewon nods enthusiastically. “Yup, they’re having a mini fanmeet outside their company building in a few days—”

“In a few days?” you parrot before gesturing for her to follow you in the break room so you can get changed. “What’re you doing out here all dressed up then?”

Your little sister rolls her eyes. “Unnie, I’m not some weirdo who wears their merch on a regular night for no reason. I came from this little cupsleeve event for Wonwoo’s birthday. Things ran a little late because we had to help clean up at the café.” 

While you’re not well-versed in fandom jargon, you have learned a few terms from Haewon here and there. Plus, she already took you to a cupsleeve event for another member’s birthday once. You’re not really sure who it was because the only one you do consistently remember is Mingyu—your sister’s ultimate bias, apparently. 

“What made you stop by then?” you wonder as you exchanged your work uniform for a loose shirt. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in advance. I could’ve fetched you from the airport.”

“I did tell you in advance.” She pouts. “But you said you were busy working on your manuscript when I did, so it must’ve slipped your mind.”

Oh. Okay, now you feel bad. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you this weekend with dinner?” 

Haewon whines. “Unnie, their fanmeet is on Saturday and I leave on Sunday.”

“So? How long is that going to be anyway?”

“Uh, all day?”

You sigh. “Fine. How about you crash in my place tonight and we can rewatch Hometown Cha Cha Cha while stuffing our faces with ramen?”

“Deal.”

After timing out for the evening, you say goodbye to Mina, who’s just waiting up for your other coworkers who’ll cover the next shift. Haewon talks your ear off about what happened in the event she attended as you both walked back to your apartment and, while only some of the things she’s saying makes sense to you, it’s nice to be in your little sister’s company again. 

“Oh, by the way, here.”

You stare at her curiously as she rummages through her bag, handing you a photocard enclosed in a dainty-looking toploader. 

“What’s this for?” you ask. 

“You told me back then that Wonwoo was your type,” Haewon explains with a grin. “So I did my best in one of the parlor games and won that extremely in-demand photocard just for you.”

You scan the piece of idol merchandise in your hands for a few minutes more—staring at Wonwoo’s face as if waiting for him to speak. You never really understood the appeal of collecting photocards. As long as it makes Haewon happy, you won’t bat an eyelash.

But now she’s giving you one to keep for yourself and the more you stare at the idol printed on the sturdy paper, the more you think that you’ve seen him somewhere.

Then again, Haewon has been talking about these boys since they debuted years ago. The familiarity must’ve stemmed from those numerous fancams and music show performances that she forced you to sit down and watch with her. 

“You better take care of him, okay?” Haewon pouts. “If I see him suddenly being sold for a high price, I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“I barely know how the market for this works, so you don’t have to worry about that,” you chuckle before carefully sliding the toploader inside your own bag. “So what ramen are we eating? Shin Ramyun or something else?”

Me [21:17]: btw, when are you coming back again? 

Me [21:20]: someone was asking about hani earlier and i feel like you’ve gotta come back here to assert your dominance.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:35]: Shit, sorry. I forgot about the time.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:35]: My friends and I had a birthday celebration at the izakaya near our hotel. It’s been a while since we got to unwind like this.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:36]: Anyway, who’s the funny guy who thought he could have my cat?

Me [02:38]: wow. YOUR cat? 🤨🤨🤨

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:40]: You’re still awake?

Me [02:40]: yeah, my little sister is in seoul and we’re binging our favorite drama

Me [02:41]: how about you? why are You still awake?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:45]: Taking care of drunk friends. Remember Soonyoung?

Me [02:45]: what about him?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:47]: Pleading for forgiveness in the toilet while he retches his guts out.

Me [02:47]: huh. some birthday party. who’s the celebrant anyway?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:47]: Me.

“Whoa. You okay?” Haewon asks when you suddenly lurch forward on the couch, choking on the ramen you were in the middle of slurping. 

You thank your sister when she offers you a glass of water and you gulp it down to soothe the burning sensation in your throat. “It’s fine. I just received a surprising text is all.”

“From a boyfriend?” she teases.

You scowl. “No. From a friend. Just a friend.”

“Boo. But you’ll tell me once you land yourself your very own Hong Dusik, right?”

The look on your face only worsens at the reference she’s made to the drama that’s still playing on screen. “I’d actually rather die than have someone like Dusik as a boyfriend. If the whole enemies to lovers thing works with Hyejin, it really won't with me.”

“True, you’ve always been a mellow lover,” Haewon agrees and you roll your eyes. “That’s why Wonwoo would be perfect for you~”

“I think me landing a Hong Dusik-esque boyfriend is more likely than me getting together with a world famous idol but okay.”

You’re momentarily distracted from your conversation when your phone vibrates in your lap again, and— Fuck. 

You forgot to reply to Woo.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:55]: Fell asleep on me already?

Me [02:56]: no, no. sorry. my sister was just talking to me. 

Me [02:56]: anyway, it’s your BIRTHDAY?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:57]: Hahaha, yes. It’s been a while since I could sit down and actually celebrate it with my friends. 

Me [02:58]: is that why you went all the way to japan? for a little birthday getaway?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:58]: Hm… something like that 

Me [03:00]: i’ll give you hani’s adoption papers as a gift

Me [03:01]: that or you let ME treat YOU to something nice for a change

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:05]: Well, I’ll be back in Korea this Saturday, but won’t be free until late at night.

Me [03:05]: back to regular programming, huh?

Me [03:06]: we can celebrate later if you’re busy, you know. 

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:07]: It’s okay. I wanted to spend time with you anyways.

“You sure that’s just a friend you’re talking to?” Haewon asks with an unimpressed stare as you choke on your instant noodles for the second time. “The only way I’d react like that to a text is if my friend told me one of our professors is fucking his TA despite being married. If that’s the case, you gotta let me in on the juicy details.”

You make a face at her. “Isn’t that way too specific?”

“Isn’t that way too specific?” Haewon mocks. “Whatever you’ve got going on with this friend of yours, promise I’ll be the first to know once you make it official?”

“Haewon!”

For the sake of your own sanity, you only reply to Woo’s message once you’re tucked in bed and Haewon is comfortably dozing on the couch in the living room. She’s a heavy sleeper that passes out quickly after a long day, so you don’t feel particularly worried about your little sister barging into your room when you type out a response.

Me [03:43]: gotcha. just meet me at the shelter after your thing. 

Me [03:45]: happy birthday, woo.

You don’t wait for him to type out a reply anymore—eyes drooping into slumber as you let the screen of your phone fade into sleep mode. 

Unbeknownst to you, a man who just finished putting his intoxicated friends to bed an ocean away stares at your chat history with a fond smile, heart racing just a few beats faster at the prospect of what awaits him at home.

You’re just about done cleaning up the big dog kennels when Woo drops by on a bright Saturday morning. 

The sound of his deep ‘hello’ nearly made you drop all the cleaning utensils you were about to put away. When you turn around to confirm that the shelter’s nighttime regular has indeed switched things up and decided to visit during daylight hours, you’re too busy scowling at him to mind the fact that you’re all gross and sweaty from all the hard labor. 

Sure, you texted him about taking up a day shift today, but you definitely didn’t expect him to visit when he just got back to Korea a few hours ago. 

Surprisingly, Woo isn’t donned in all black this time around. He’s wearing a gray pullover with some muddled text you can’t quite read with the hood pulled all the way up, concealing the white cap resting on top of his head. Of course, his signature face mask is still in between you and his no doubt handsome countenance, but you’ll take what you can get.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, a bit breathless before you notice that takeout bag he’s setting down on one of the empty tables. “I thought you’re not gonna be free until tonight.”

“Thought you could use another lunch fix,” he says nonchalantly. “Well that and I wanted to personally give you some cool trinkets from Japan.”

The sentiment makes your heart stir a little, but you end up voicing out a dry laugh before stuffing the shelter’s cleaning paraphernalia inside the broom closet. “Keep doing all these nice things and I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

Woo laughs but does absolutely nothing to deny the allegations.

“Here.” Your brows arch a little when he fishes something from the pocket of his hoodie, handing it to you. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d like so I just got all of them.”

You’re a bit reluctant to receive his gift in your current state—dirty hands, dirty clothes, dirty everything—but Woo doesn’t seem to mind when he drops a small plastic package full of…

“Kitties!” You coo out loud at the assortment of colorful enamel pins inside before gawking at him. “Seriously, Woo, you’re way too nice to me. I’m starting to feel indebted.”

He shakes his head with an adorable laugh. “It’s nothing. I swear. They just reminded me of you when my friends and I passed this one booth at a festival.”

Shit. They reminded him of you?

“So are you finally going to sit down and talk to me about adopting Hani or are you gonna keep skirting around again, mister?” You place a hand on your hip, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction as you tuck his gift safely in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Surprise, I actually came here to do just that. I still have an hour free before I have to go to work,” Woo admits and him mentioning work taps in on your innate curiosity about what he does for a living. “But your coworker said something about rounding up the dogs and putting them back in the kennel?”

Oh. Shit. 

As if on cue, Mina—along with a few on shift volunteers—emerge down the hall, all of their hands gripping several leashes as an army of dogs fills the hallway with excited and agitated barking alike. 

“Are we good to go?” Mina yells over the noise.

Trying not to look too disappointed that your time with Woo has been cut short, you give Mina a thumbs up before striding off to meet them halfway. You take it upon yourself to take a few of the dogs off one of the volunteers’ hands and he looks at you with withering relief when you do. 

“Yep. Everything’s as fresh as a daisy now,” you inform them. “Hope these guys didn’t make too big of a mess up in the front though. That would mean Kino’s turn for cleaning duty came a little early.”

“Hey!” The volunteer in question complains. “I’ve got a date later, noona. Don’t go saying weird stuff like that.”

You’re just about to tease him a little more but you suddenly feel the force of a couple of former strays tugging you forward disappear. That’s when you notice that Woo made his way to your side, guiding the dogs silently as he helps lead the first of them to the kennel.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insist but your friend(?) merely shakes his head. 

“It’s no big deal,” Woo reassures.

It doesn’t help that this particular hallway is a little cramped. You’re practically standing arm to arm as you all make it to the end. You can practically smell the expensive cologne wafting from his clothes amidst the scent of dog fur that’s starting to permeate the air. When Woo lets out another soft laugh when one of the dogs he has on a leash licks his hand, you know it’s over for you.

It takes about half an hour to settle all fifteen big dogs into their respective cages and by the time it’s over, you’re convinced that you need a shower now more than ever. As Mina and the rest of the volunteers head back to the reception room, you decide to take a break and help yourself to the takeout that Woo personally delivered yet again.

“Thanks for your help. Cleaning day is really one of the toughest days of the month. Especially when we have to clean up the big dog kennels,” you sigh before plopping into an empty seat in the break room. 

“Don’t mention it,” he says and you find yourself imagining a smile behind his mask yet again. “I actually have a dog at home, too, so I would now. But she’s definitely more tame than these guys.”

That makes you pause. “Is that why you’re beating around the bush so much about adopting Hani? You think she won’t get along with your dog?”

He hums a little before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “That’s one of the reasons, yes.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try,” you huff as you unseal the takeout package—the delectable scent of yangnyeom chicken pervading your senses. “Anyway, you’re going to sign the papers this time, right? Right?”

You have a feeling that you’ve finally got him cornered, but before Woo can even formulate a response, a ringtone that definitely isn’t yours starts going off inside the break room. 

Your friend(????) answers it with a wistful sigh. 

It’s so quiet that you can vaguely make out the voice at the other end of the line saying, “Hyung. Everyone’s looking for you. Where are you?”

You try not to stare at Woo as he takes the call out of pure decency—distracting yourself with your food. But you can’t help but listen in when their conversation is the only thing you can hear at the moment. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Tell everyone I’m sorry for the hold up, Mingyu.” 

The moment that name leaves Woo’s mouth, you freeze mid-chew. Did he say Mingyu? Like…the idol that Haewon is downright obsessed with? No… It was probably just someone with the same name. It is pretty common, after all.

When he ends the call, you flash him a tight-lipped smile that manages to conceal your momentary surprise. “Rain check?”

“Rain check,” Woo sighs in agreement. 

You nod. “It’s okay. The more you keep delaying Hani’s adoption, the more presents I get from you.”

“And you’re absolutely right about that,” he humors you before reaching out to ruffle your hair. You haven’t even recovered from that little gesture he just did when he asks, “Hope our plans for later are still up though?”

Woo must’ve caught the look on your face with the way he retracts the hand that was just on top of your head to snicker into his palm. “Don’t tell me you forgot. We were supposed to celebrate my birthday, remember?”

Curse you and your habit of making plans at ass o’clock in the morning. You always forget them!

“Uh, it kinda slipped my mind?” you admit sheepishly as you pick at your food. “I ended up going for a day shift ‘cause I have to see my sister off at the airport tomorrow.” 

He nods in earnest and it kind of makes you feel bad about your short term memory. “It’s alright. I’ll just drop by some other time to get the paperwork over with. I’ve disturbed you enough as it is.”

“No, it’s fine!”

Your sudden outburst makes Woo look up at you with a confused stare. “Hm?”

“I-I can still meet up with you later,” you stammer and you have to force yourself not to bury your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment. Pull yourself together, damn. “If you’re not too tired from your plans for the day, of course.”

He mentioned something about having to go to work, and while you can’t imagine what sort of work has to be urgently done on a Saturday, you’ll still respect his time. 

Woo blinks for a few seconds, as if still digesting what you just said before his eyes disappear behind his glasses with a soft chuckle. Your brows cinch together, not getting what’s so funny. 

“Noted. I’ll come pick you up here later, still? If you’re not comfortable with sharing your address with me yet.” 

He’s so thoughtful, you might actually give him all your personal details at this point. But at the end of the day you’re actually a person with a head full of common sense, so you answer him with, “Sure thing. Thanks for going out of your way to come hang out despite how busy you are.”

“No, thank you for always putting up with me,” Woo insists with a shake of his head. “I swear I’m not hassling you with this whole adoption thing on purpose. There’s just…a lot of things to consider on my end. I hope you understand.”

You wave away his concerns with a laugh. “Just keep getting me more of this chicken and we’ll call it quits.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

When Woo sees himself out of the break room, you fumble for the plastic package in the back of your jeans—taking one of the adorable black cat enamels before pinning it in the front pocket of your uniform. You can’t help the smile that creeps up your face when you see your reflection on the small mirror sitting on the table. 

How could you be this down bad for someone whose entire face you’ve never even seen before? 

Haewon 🪷 [17:20]: Are you suuure you don’t wanna come to the fan meet?

Haewon 🪷 [17:21]: I’ve still got a few extra passes :3c you’d get to see wonwoo in the flesh!

Me  [17:30]: why do you want to set me up with wonwoo so badly 

Haewon 🪷 [17:31]: Bc we’re sisters? And it’d be cool if we stanned MinWon together?

Me  [17:32]: …not even gonna ask you to elaborate on that

Haewon 🪷 [18:00]: Unnie ㅠㅠ

Me [18:00]: why? what’s wrong, hae?

Haewon 🪷[ 18:05]: Mingyu looks sooooo much better than I remember

Haewon 🪷[18:06]: The girlfriend allegations must be true

Haewon 🪷 [18:06]: Only a man in love can smile like that!

Me [18:07]: or: a man who relies on fanservice to get paid?

Haewon 🪷[ 18:08]: RUDE!!!!

Haewon 🪷 [18:08]: Here’s a pic of Wonwoo to shut you up

Haewon 🪷 [18:09]: [Sent an attachment]

Me [18:10]: idk if i should find the fact that you think some kpop guy affects me in any capacity amusing or concerning

Haewon 🪷 [18:11]: !!!! Take that back wtf?? Wonwoo isn’t just ‘some kpop guy’?????

Me [18:10]: sure he isn’t.

Haewon 🪷 [19:45]: Good news!!

Me [19:45]: you’re finally going to get off my back about the whole wonwoo thing?

Haewon 🪷 [19:46]: No ^_^ My Monday final got canceled so I can stay in Seoul for a day more!

Haewon 🪷 [19:46]: Aka you don’t have to wake up early to drag your ass to the airport w me

Me [19:47]: oh. that’s cool. what’re your plans for tomorrow then?

Haewon 🪷 [19:48]: Gonna attend the pre-recording for a music show :3

Me [19:50]: …Haewon i swear to god if you ask me to do what you’re about to ask me to do

Haewon 🪷 [19:50]: Come with me pretty pleaaaase?

Haewon 🪷 [19:51]: I’m using my adorable dongsaeng powers to get you to agree

Me [19:55]: there’s no talking my way out of this, is there?

Haewon 🪷 [19:55]: Nope <3

Me [19:56]: fine. just text me the details. i need to go out soon. 

Haewon 🪷 [19:56]: HEHE have fun !!

You weren’t lying when you texted Haewon that you had to go out soon. You agreed that you’d meet up with Woo for his post-birthday celebration at 9 P.M. Hell, you even called a local bakery to have a personalized cake made for pick-up before you head over to the rendezvous point. Everything was already set right from the start.

But then you ended up falling asleep while scrolling through Twitter and now the clock reads 10:45 P.M., and you’re rushing to pull on a ratty sweater instead of the cute outfit you planned for the night as you rush out of your apartment.

Me [10:47]: FUCK IM SORRY

Me [10:47]: i was SUPPOSED to take a five minute nap but i didn’t realize how tired i was

Me [10:48]: are you still up to hang out? i totally get it if not though.

You immediately stuff your phone in the pocket of your jeans—not even bothering to glance at Woo’s reply when it vibrates with a text notification. Your conscience is much too guild-ridden to read any sort of reassurance he’d undoubtedly give to you despite how long you’ve made him wait. 

Two hours, jeez. You’d be furious if someone was that late on you.

When you arrive at the shelter after doing a couple of quick detours, you’re panting like you just won first place in a marathon. Needless to say, it’s a pitiful sight to behold when Woo is leaning across his motorcycle—looking much too attractive in that stupid leather jacket of his. 

“Is this what the kids call fashionably late these days?” he chuckles.

If you weren’t so apologetic, you would’ve rolled your eyes so instead, you give him a crumpled paper bag with a smile that borders on overcompensating.

“Happy birthday?”

Woo looks like he was just about to say something until a quiet mewl interrupts him midway. You gaze at him with a puzzled look until he stifles a soft laugh, pulling the lapel of his jacket open to reveal—

“Hani?” You scowl.

The black kitten is tucked away snugly in the inner pocket of Woo’s jacket—nearly blending in with the leather. It’s almost as if two pairs of big yellow eyes are staring at you from a void. 

“Finally got the papers over with when you fell asleep on me,” Woo chuckles before scratching behind her ears. “So I guess it wasn’t so bad that you made me wait for two hours.” 

“Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Yes, and I heard you,” he insists before peering inside the paper bag you gave him. “What’s this?”

“No peeking until we get to your good old thinking spot,” you scold, smacking his hand away. 

A hand that you just noticed is also clad in a leather glove. 

He shakes his head playfully before putting his arms up in surrender. “For someone who’s two hours late, you’re pretty demanding.”

“Woo!”

During his last few days in Japan, Woo told you about his favorite thinking spot that’s specifically located beneath Hannam Bridge. There’s an old watchtower that was built before the bridge even existed. I go there when I want to clear my head. 

When he said he wanted to bring you there for his belated birthday bash, the ghastly possibility of him turning out to be a serial killer luring you to your doom crossed your mind for half a second before you ended up agreeing anyway.

Now here you are, drowning in the musk of his cologne as you press your cheek against the fabric of his jacket. He’s definitely going past the speed limit with how sharply the wind sings in your ears, but instead of complaining about it, you tighten your arms around his torso—letting the warmth of his body seep into yours. 

“It’s not so scary if you don’t think about it too much,” you hear him shout from the front. “Look to your right! This is why I’ve always liked doing late night rides!”

Easy for him to say. He’s brave enough to harbor a kitten inside his jacket and a person who’s never ridden a motorcycle before at a hundred kilometers per hour! But despite how terrified you are of falling off his bike, you do as he says anyways.

When you tilt your gaze in the direction of the Han River, you’re immediately greeted by the dazzling lights that glimmer across the water. You haven’t been to the districts on the other side of the river, but you think you’re content with getting to see them from afar.

With the roar of an engine ringing in your ears. With the summer evening breeze whipping past your face.

With your arms around someone who’s slowly but surely leaving his mark in your life. 

“Are you sure this is legal?”

Your companion glances behind him as he makes his way to the aforementioned watch tower—a knapsack full of god-knows-what slung around his shoulder while he carries the paper bag with your “gift” in his free hand. “I’ve never seen a single ‘No Trespassing' sign since I’ve started going here ages ago, so probably.”

“Probably?” you parrot and Hani, who you’ve deigned to carry in your arms after that grueling motorcycle ride, meows as if she’s just as incredulous as you are. “So it’s still possible for us to get arrested?”

“Yeah, but what’s life without a little risk?” 

Unbelievable.

Yet, despite the common sense you were oh-so proud of this morning, you still follow him up the winding steps of the watchtower, which is hardly even a watchtower given that it’s a few meters beneath the widest bridge in the city. Woo wasn’t lying about his strange description of it after all.

“Well, here we are,” he announces when the two of you reach the platform on the very top. The edges are lined with metal rails that are beginning to rust with age, but seem sturdy enough to grant you some sense of security—no matter how sparse. “I’ll just set this up. You can go enjoy the view if you want.”

Woo doesn’t even let you get a word in before he unzips his bag and brings out a checkered picnic blanket. He gently lays it across the dusty concrete, smoothing out the fabric before fishing some more stuff inside his gym-bag-turned-picnic-basket. You keep yourself from making any snide comments about his choice of venue because despite the unorthodox location, you actually get why he’d find it peaceful here.

It’s far enough from the freeway that the sound of vehicles rushing through the night can barely reach your ears. If you listen closely enough, you can even hear the water flowing below much more clearly. You close your eyes to get a better feel of the place—imagining a six-foot something guy leaning across the rusty railings as he watches the city lights sparkle across the Han River.

“There we go.” 

You startle when you feel Woo’s warm, leather-clad hand on your shoulder—prompting you to turn around and see his handiwork. In the middle of the picnic blanket is something that looks suspiciously like a portable emergency light. How he got his hands on something like that, you’re not entirely sure, so you decide to focus on the other details instead. 

Like the two unopened bottles of soju right next to a take-out package of your favorite yangnyeom chicken. 

“Didn’t we agree that I was treating you to something this time around?” you grumble as you absentmindedly stroke Hani’s fur. 

“We did, but then you overslept and—”

“Okay, fine! Point taken!”

Woo snickers as he hands you the paper bag you brought for the trip. It looks even worse than it was when you ran all the way to the shelter and you can only hope the package inside isn’t completely ruined. 

You decide to let Hani down inside the gym bag that Woo left unzipped. Surprisingly, the newly adopted kitten makes a home out of it quickly—curling up into a ball as her tail swishes every now and again. Cute.

“Don’t judge, okay?” You breathe out nervously as you take the plastic container out of the bag. “I had a legit cake custom-made and everything but…yeah. Overslept.”

When Woo doesn’t respond a second too long, your gaze nervously rivets to his face to parse for a reaction. Was he disappointed? Should you have gotten a different design?

The moment you see the dazzled look in his eyes, however, you realize that isn’t the case.

He receives the little cupcake with open arms when you give it to him. It’s chocolate topped with bad fondant icing art, but you didn’t really have a choice. When you spotted it in the convenience store earlier, you grabbed the one that looked most like a kitten and dipped. It’s nice to know that he might actually like it after all.

“Oh and uh, sorry, but I couldn’t bring any candles for you to blow,” you add sheepishly. “You can just make a wish and pretend.” 

Woo’s gaze drifts to you for a moment before his eyes crinkle with laughter. “I don’t really have to do that though. My wish has already come true.”

Huh?

To your chagrin, he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, Woo invites you to sit on the picnic blanket—carefully removing his boots so he wouldn’t track dirt all over the food and you follow suit. 

You fill the silence with your goings-on for the rest of the day and how exactly you ended up dozing off and he’s kind enough to listen to every word. However, when you ask if he wants to do a toast, he shakes his head.

“I need to drive you back, remember?” 

You shoot him a dirty look. “So you took me all the way out here just so I can have two bottles of soju all to myself while you sit there and listen to me talk about my day?”

“...Yes?”

Men are so fucking infuriating sometimes, you can hardly believe it.

“Nope.” You firmly shake your head—plucking the bottle opener he set down on the blanket to pop the caps off. “You’re drinking with me. Just quit driving past the speed limit so we won’t die in a freak accident.” 

You immediately notice the stiffness in his shoulders as you shove the bottle of soju in his hands and part of you feels kind of bad for being pushy. For a moment, you allow yourself to scrutinize him for a bit longer. What could possibly be deterring him from drinking after going out of his way to do all this? 

That’s when you realize he still has his mask on.

Does he…have issues about people seeing his face?

That would definitely explain why he hasn’t once taken it off in all the times you’ve met him so far. With that in mind, you promptly decide to tell him that okay, he doesn’t have to if he really doesn’t want to, but then Woo is already reaching up to peel the blasted face mask off. 

Your chest seizes with panic, hands flying in front of you to keep him from doing something against his will. But the effort is futile because it only takes a second for him to remove and… 

Fuck.

Cue the choir of angels because goddamn does this man look like heaven.

Woo shifts somewhat uncomfortably under your stare, as if he’s waiting for you to blow up all over his face or something. But you’re much too mesmerized by too many things to form any sort of response right away. 

The sharp cut of his jaw. The gentle curve of his Cupid’s bow. The tinge of red spreading across his cheeks.

“I can’t believe you’ve been gatekeeping yourself from me all this time,” you whisper with a strained laugh—purposely peeling your gaze away for the sake of your own sanity. “I knew you were hot, but…God. I hate you.”

“You…don’t recognize me?” 

The question brings you out of your feelings for a moment, making you glance at him with a questioning stare. “Am I supposed to?”

Woo gapes at the question like he didn’t expect that to be your response before shaking his head vigorously. 

“N-No. Anyway, you said I was hot but you hate me?”

You narrow your eyes at him before taking your first swig of soju. “Don’t start getting all cocky with me, mister! I’ve got eyes and I can’t help that you’re objectively attractive. Just stating facts here.”

When Woo smiles for the first time without the figurative cockblock that is his signature black face mask and honestly? If you died right now, you’d die happily. 

The night presses on in a haze of soju, spicy chicken, and the occasional visit from Hani who uses either of your laps as her personal bed for about five minutes before switching to the other person. 

This is the longest you’ve been with Woo and you’re starting to realize that he isn’t much of a talker, which you completely understand. You can’t imagine someone who’s hell-bent on keeping what he looks like a secret for so long being a chatterbox.

“Oh, but you mentioned something to me at the shelter one time,” you pipe up before scooping a forkful of chicken into your mouth. 

“Yeah? What is it?” Woo asks softly as he pets Hani’s back. 

Feeling just a little bit tipsy from the alcohol, you try not to stare too hard at his handsome face or the way his lip curls at the edges with a tiny smile when Hani purrs from his touch.

“You said Hani reminded you of yourself from before,” you whisper as your gaze drifts to his leather-gloved hands. “Is it okay to ask what you meant by that?”

The sound of the river flowing beneath the watchtower fills your ears as you bask in the silence. It’s a pretty personal question. You’d totally get it if he decides not to answer, but you’re much too curious to keep yourself from asking. 

“Well, I wasn’t a stray or anything, but there was a time in my life that I felt so…aimless. I lost someone near and dear to me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it for a very long time.”

Hearing the earnest ring of Woo’s voice, you force yourself to snap out of your subtle inebriation—scooting a little bit closer to him on the blanket to make sure you catch every word. 

“I didn’t get into a life-threatening accident like this one did either, but…” He trails off for a moment, stroking the scar that you know runs along Hani’s sternum but has long healed with his fingers. 

“I managed to get back on track when the people around me showed me their support. They didn’t leave even if all I wanted was to be left alone. If it weren’t for them, it might’ve taken me even longer to move past what happened. Worse, I might not have moved past it at all.

“When I saw Hani that day, she looked scared of all the other cats. Like she wasn’t ready to let anyone get close to her just yet.” Woo breathes deeply before taking a small sip from his bottle. “I guess I was the same way, too. Healing isn’t linear. Sometimes, when I think I’m all better, one day, I just spiral back to where I started in the next one. That’s…kind of where you fit into the picture, actually.”

The brief pause in his story makes you blink at him, surprised. “Me?”

He nods. “You used to feed the strays in your neighborhood, right? You even had a schedule and everything.”

“That was months ago,” you mutter. “You mean you already knew me back then? Because of that?”

“I…actually live in that area, too.” He clears his throat, that familiar blush settling across his cheeks once again. “I often saw you feeding the strays because that’s usually the time I got back from the cemetery. One day, things got a bit too much and I kind of…broke down in the park instead of just doing that at home.”

He says it like he’s embarrassed and now that he mentioned it, you vaguely remember consoling a stranger during your days before volunteering at the shelter. You don’t recall much of it though—just the memory of awkwardly patting his back before sending him off feeling just a bit better because you saw him smile a little.

Other than that, you’re drawing blanks.

“How exactly did I help you, though? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“I wouldn’t say you helped me or anything, but…” Woo pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose while slyly avoiding your eyes. “I distinctly remember you saying something like—”

Hey, it’s just a bad day. Or a bad week. Or a bad month. I don’t know. But it’s not a bad life. It’ll get better soon. I promise.

Fuck. Maybe you do remember.

“It didn’t really mean much to me at the time. Honestly, it kind of pissed me off at first,” Woo admits with a guilty chuckle before taking another sip. “But you were right. Sometimes, things got worse. Other times, it got better. But one day, I realized that I got to a point where it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

“I’m not usually this open about my problems, but I learned overtime that talking about them makes them less taxing to deal with. Almost like I’m just talking about the weather, you know?” He smiles softly and you swear your heart melts at the sight of it. “And…I also don’t want to be closed off from others anymore. Back then, I mostly just kept everything to myself—bottling it all up until it was just unbearable.” 

“Now you’re here spilling your guts out to some random college senior,” you snicker before taking another swig of your soju. You pout when you realize the bottle’s all empty before placing it back on the picnic blanket. “That’s some character development.”

“It really is.”

The silence sets once more and your eyes wander off to the city so close yet so far away. The lights from the skyscrapers glimmer like stars across the calm waters of the Han River and you like to think it compensates for the fact that the sky is blocked out by the bridge stretched far and wide above you. 

This isn’t how you imagined your first stargazing date would be like, but it’s a good start.

Although, the moment the idea crosses your mind, you’re quick to jolt at your own thoughts. 

This isn’t a date. You’re just celebrating his birthday together. Alone. On a picnic blanket. With one of the loveliest sceneries you’ve laid your eyes on. In a place where he claims that he never once showed to anyone else. 

“Hey, is this—”

Your breath hitches in your throat when you turn to look at Woo—only to find his face mere inches from yours. 

“What?” he whispers and despite the fact that you’re wearing a sweater, you feel goosebumps rise across the skin of your shoulders. 

“Uh.” Fuck. “Is this a date?”

His mouth curves into a smile that you can’t quite get a read on. “It can be what you want it to be.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, suddenly feeling hot all over as his eyes flicker to your lips. “Just so you know, I don’t kiss on the first date.”

When Woo laughs again, it’s a deep-seated noise that makes your insides tingle with an indescribable feeling. You don’t really want to give it a name.

“Okay,” he repeats before pressing his forehead against yours. “We can have our first date next time then.”

Of course the sly fucker dives in for a kiss anyway.

“H-Hey,” you whisper in between, trying not to get too distracted with how plump his lips are as you keep holding him still by his broad shoulders. “You’re going to end up crushing Hani if you d-don’t cut it out!”

Woo sighs against your lips before pulling away regretfully. For a moment, he stares at the sleepy kitten on his lap, gazing around cluelessly after being roused from slumber. His expression softens for a moment as he scoops her up with both hands, settling her down in the comfort of his gym bag. She lets out a satisfied mewl before curling into a ball once more.

“Better?” 

You’re not sure if he’s asking you or the cat, but…

“Better,” you whisper before fisting the lapels of his jacket and crushing your lips with his.

You don’t know where you’re pulling all this pent-up frustration from. During the very brief period that you’ve gotten closer to Woo, your general opinion about him never really deviated from he’s cute and he’s hot. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet here you are, gasping into his mouth as he flattens his tongue against yours. A strong arm hooks around your waist, pressing your bodies infinitesimally closer and your skin is slowly hitting a fever pitch beneath your clothes. Something wild and all-consuming burns in your veins and you channel it into a moan that makes his grip on you grow tighter. 

You don’t know how exactly you wound up on top of his lap—knees planted on either side of his hips as he continues devouring you with no intention of leaving anything behind. You can feel the expensive material of his leather gloves when his fingers graze along the hem of your sweater. Your skin tingles like every nerve ending has been set alight and if you weren’t already rendered dizzy by his intoxicating cologne, you’re in for a ride with each second his touch hikes further up your torso.

Woo sighs against your lips before pulling away momentarily—eyes aflame before he removes his fogged up glasses with one hand, tossing them somewhat carelessly on the picnic blanket. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Why was that so hot?

You’re too stunned to even draw a breath as he stares you down without the constant partition of his glasses. Has his gaze always been this sharp? Have those eyes always been transfixed on you?

“This…This wasn’t part of the plan, if you’re wondering.” Woo croons out the words huskily. Like an afterthought he only considered out of concern for you. Cute. “I swear I didn’t have any ulterior motives when—”

You giggle, before pressing a kiss on his nose. Woo’s eyes widen just a fraction.

“What made you cave then?” 

The way his Adam’s apple bobs has no right to be that alluring, but it pulls you in anyway. “You looked really cute tonight.”

“Is that all?”

“Um, I thought it was sweet that you still got me a cupcake after you overslept?”

You groan, forehead bumping into the crook of his neck. Jesus Christ, he smells so fucking good. “How long are you going to hold that over my head for?”

You feel the vibrations of his laughter humming against your connected chests and your heart swells as Woo wraps his arms around your frame—pulling you into a firm embrace as the heat that engulfed the both of you slowly simmered into the cool evening air. You can feel him tracing idle shapes along your shoulder blades and the small of your back, and it does nothing to keep you from melting into his touch.

It’s so strange how easily you gave into him. You’ve formally known Woo for about three months and became legitimate friends(?) for less than three weeks. If you told Haewon about this whirlwind romance of yours, she’d hit you upside the head and tell you you’re being way too hasty for a man. 

But if it’s a man with a black kitten taking a nap in his gym bag while he kisses you senseless underneath one of Seoul’s busiest freeways, you suppose you can make an exception.

“We should go,” Woo murmurs softly. “You’ve still got to accompany your sister to the airport right?”

“Mmm. Nope. She’s staying a day longer,” you inform him with the same quiet tone, letting your fingers trail up to his hair so you can toy with the strands in your fingertips. “But I do have some more edits to get over with in my final manuscript, so…yeah. We should go.”

Despite wanting nothing but to stay there in Woo’s little safe haven, the two of you manage to miraculously peel yourselves away from each other. Your face is hot the entire time you helped clean up his little picnic setup. When he shuts off the portable emergency light, you squint as you parse your way through the darkness. 

You kind of end up tripping on air like a complete idiot, but before you can tumble off the rails and into the river, Woo catches you by the waist—not so different from how he held you ten minutes prior.

“Careful,” he mutters as he lets you go and you can’t help but silently mourn the loss of his touch again. “I don’t want to be accused of being a murderer.”

You snicker as he gently scoops Hani out of the gym bag and back into the spacious compartment in the lapel of his leather jacket. For a sleepy kitten, she’s surprisingly compliant. “I actually thought all this time you were some sort of serial killer trying to lure me to my doom.”

“You thought that but you came with me anyway?”

“Why not? You’re hot.”

That night, you let Woo drive you back home now that he’s more or less beaten the serial killer allegations. You tell him that he doesn’t have to walk you to your apartment, but he insists—saying that he can afford to leave Hani on his bike for a few minutes. 

Of course, it ends up with another heated makeout session against your front door. This time, those stupid leather-clad fingers hike high enough on your back to toy with the clasp of your bra while his other hand remains tangled in your hair to pull you impossibly closer.

“I have to go,” he rasps before swiping his tongue along his bottom lip—giving you a sudden itch to sink your teeth into it. “But you’re making it really hard to leave.” 

He’s making it really hard to tell him to go home, too, but as much as you want to kiss the night away, you still have some of your wits about you.

You chuckle as you reluctantly extract his wandering hands away from your body. Woo sighs in surrender with a nearly inaudible laugh.

“You already bent my I don’t kiss on the first date rule, genius,” you remind him breathlessly. “Don’t push your luck just yet until we’ve had that so-called first date next time.” 

He grins. “So there’s going to be a next time?”

Deciding to keep him on his toes, you bat your eyelashes coquettishly at him. “Only if you want to.”

Woo leans in to press his lips against the corner of your mouth—trying his best to suppress the grin on his face. 

“I’ll hold you to it then.”

Despite having lived in Seoul for four years and having a hardcore fangirl for a sister, today’s the first time you’ll be attending the pre-recording session for a music show. 

Needless to say, you feel like an outsider amongst the fans armed with all sorts of idol merchandise and dressed in the prettiest outfits. Haewon managed to mooch a lightstick off one of her friends for you to use, but despite the fact that you know not a single soul would give two shits about you here, the alienating sensation remains. 

“Hey, don’t be too nervous,” your little sister chortles as the marshals usher the crowd into the studio. “All you gotta do is wave that lightstick to the beat. You’ll blend right in, I promise.”

You crack her a nervous smile. Oh, the things you do to make Haewon happy.

It’s a little bit of a blur from there. You squeeze past the throng of fans while simultaneously trying not to lose your sister in the crowd. Some of the staff are handing out photocards that you hear are exclusively given away at this specific broadcast and were worth hundreds of thousands of won. You’re not sure which member Haewon got for you, but knowing your little sister, she must’ve snagged one of Wonwoo’s.

When the two of you are settled in your seats, you take the time to admire the set. You never imagined idol music show stages being this massive in person. In fact, you never really spared an active thought about them. Most of the info you do know about these kinds of things are secondhand accounts from Haewon from all the times she’s been to several broadcasting studios across the city. 

“Did you bring the PC I got you last time?” she asks before taking out the broadcast ones out of their plastic package. 

You shake your head. “Sorry. That Wonwoo’s sitting in a different bag.”

“Well, at least you haven’t sold him,” your little sister laughs before handing you one of the cards in her hands. “I told the staff to give us Mingyu and Wonwoo, but they gave me Hoshi and Wonwoo. It’s okay though, ‘cause Hoshi’s my bias wrecker anyway.”

Ah. More fandom jargon that you’re just now hearing about.

Just as the staff is starting to do the final preparations on stage, you decide to check out the broadcast PC that Haewon just gave to you. When your eyes land on Wonwoo’s face, however, you suddenly feel your blood freeze in your veins. 

You…don’t recognize me?

One of the staff members announces that the boys will be out shortly to begin the pre-recording session but the words are all but muted in your ears. 

Because how the hell can you focus on anything else when the face of the man who drove you back home last night—the man who kissed you until you were lightheaded—is plastered on a photocard that could be exchanged for an entire fortune?

This can’t be right, you muse with a scowl—fishing your phone out of your bag as your trembling fingers make haste to open your messaging app. He can’t be the same guy. 

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:35]: Good morning, I hope you got enough rest!

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:36]: I have a schedule later this morning so I might be MIA 

Me [09:40]: it’s cool. i just woke up actually hahaha

Me [09:40]: i also don’t mind! i’m heading out with my sister in a while too

Me [09:41]: have fun at work(?)

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:45]: Haha I will :) Have fun with your sister!

With a deep breath, you lock your phone just as the lights start to dim and the crowd cheers their hearts out. Haewon urges you to turn on your lightstick and the part of the studio that’s filled to the brim with an audience is lit up with hundreds of dazzling lights.  

You would’ve appreciated the sight if only a certain someone didn’t play you for a fucking fool.

Just as promised, the boys that your little sister has been crazy about since their debut all fill the stage gradually. Some of them greet the fans with wide grins and silly little gestures. The others are a little more reserved with their greetings—all shy smiles and reserved movements.

Like Wonwoo, for example.

After several years of only knowing Mingyu thanks to Haewon, this is the first time you were able to pick out another one of them on stage with ease. Why wouldn’t you be able to recognize him? 

He had you pressed up against your front door only a few hours ago.

It all made sense now. The affinity for keeping a face mask on. The late night visits. The fact that he seems to make an exorbitant amount of money from a job he doesn’t want to disclose.

Woo is Wonwoo from SEVENTEEN. 

And he somehow forgot to let you know over the course of your time together. 

You try to keep down the frustration that burns in your throat, making you feel like the roof of your mouth is stuffed with cotton. It’s much easier to mask your feelings once the performers all get into position and the music starts. The loud beat blaring from the speakers coupled with the well-practiced fanchants from the audience easily overpower the sound of your hitched breathing. Even Haewon was too engrossed with the performance to notice your distress.

Still, there’s not much you can do about it now. Especially when Wonwoo’s the one who starts up the first verse of their newest song. 

He looks so…different from the gentle giant you’ve come to know over the past few weeks. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes that you know is all for show, but it makes your spine tingle at the sight of it nonetheless. The words to the song are raspily sung into the mic and if you weren’t convinced that he and Woo aren’t the same person, you most certainly are now.

After all, it’s his fucking voice that got you so down bad in the first place.

Once his part is done, Wonwoo quickly heads over to the next formation—a complete professional by heart. He belts out each dance move with such perfect precision and you wouldn’t expect any less from an idol who’s spent years honing his talents. But despite how awe-struck you are to see this side of him in person, it just wasn’t enough to completely erase the feeling that you’ve been betrayed.

It stings even more when the song ends and the studio is filled with deafening screams from the audience yet again. For once, Wonwoo’s stoic expression cracks with a handsome grin as he and the rest of his bandmates huddle together and exchange high fives. 

That person on stage is both the man you caught feelings for and a stranger at the same time. He easily smiles at the fans the same way he would smile at you, but the difference between Woo and Wonwoo is that only one of them is willing to show this part of his life to the rest of the world. 

Did he not trust you enough? Did he think you’d act like some crazy fan if he told you the truth?

You love Haewon. You love your little sister more than anything in the world, but you can’t pretend that things are okay when the man who kept you in the dark is standing right in front of you, clueless of the revelation that occurred to you just now.

“Where are you going?” Haewon calls out when you make your way out of the rows of seats—earning yourself a collection of glares from the other fans in the vicinity. “Unnie, hey!”

The last thing you want to do is ditch her for something you promised you’d see through until the end but you’re just so fucking done. You don’t want to see Wonwoo right now. Or hear him and his stupidly perfect voice through the studio’s sound system. 

Right now, you just…want to be alone.

About two weeks after you stormed out of the first and last music show pre-recording you’ll ever attend in your life, things have more or less mellowed out. Sort of.

You’ve been taking fewer and fewer shifts at the shelter as graduation draws ever-so near. But aside from wanting to focus on getting your academic backlogs over with, you also wanted to stay away from the one place that Woo—or should you say Wonwoo—can easily find you and subsequently corner you to talk. Because you don’t want to talk to someone who’s basically been lying to your face the entire time you’ve been friends.

Well, you suppose if you really don’t want to hear even a peep out of him, you should’ve blocked his number altogether. But that’s not really the case.

Your phone buzzes while you’re in the middle of signing off adoption papers to a couple who wanted to adopt one of the shelter cats. You thought it was pretty adorable of them to make that decision since having a pet together is almost as good as having a kid together after all.

Thinking it was from your adviser, you snuck a glance towards the notifications in your homescreen. But when you see a familiar emoji plastered on the sender’s nickname, you’re quick to put it face down on the wooden desk.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:35]: Good morning. Are you at the shelter today? Can I speak to you?

How he has it in him to keep texting you as if you haven’t given him nothing but radio silence for the past two weeks, you’re not sure. Wonwoo must’ve sensed that something was amiss the moment you stopped replying to him altogether, but he never tried to pester you about what was wrong. Instead, he simply continued sending all those messages to check in on you despite the fact that it’s almost as if he’s talking to a wall.

Well, it’s not like you have time to entertain him now anyways. 

“Are you sure she doesn’t have a name yet?” One of your clients—the boyfriend—asks as he smooths down his newly adopted Maine Coon’s fur. 

The girlfriend rolls her eyes. “You heard the nice shelter lady, Vern. This one just wouldn’t respond to any name they tried to give her.”

You agree with a half-hearted laugh, trying your best to ignore the guilt that’s perpetually swelling in your heart the longer you ignore Wonwoo’s pleas. “Yup. Our director said she’s got a bit of an attitude, but I think she just has high standards.”

Vern the Boyfriend makes a funny face at that. “So you’re saying that she doesn’t like the names she’s been given so far?”

“Mhmm. We tried Cupcake, Winter, Princess, and Lily, but she liked none of those. Try naming her something fancy. ”

“Chairman Meow?”

“Vern.” 

“What? You gotta admit it’s funny, Sohee.”

Sohee the Girlfriend rolls her eyes. “Yes, but it’s an overused pun now! Think of something else.”

“Hmm. How about…Milana?”

“Is that because Seokmin wouldn’t shut up about his trip to Milan?”

“Ugh, yeah. Two months later and he still won’t stop talking about—”

“The gorgonzola he had for dinner the night before he flew back to Korea. I know. You won’t stop talking about it either.”

“Hey, Seokmin-hyung pays great attention to detail when it comes to food. You can’t help but want it, too.”

As you observe the friendly banter between the couple, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You don’t come across two people who complement each other as well as they do, and from the curious glint in their newly adopted cat’s eyes, you think she likes being in their company as well.

“Fine, let’s test it out first,” Sohee huffs before scratching behind the Maine Coon’s ears. “We’re going to call you Milana. Does that sound good to you?”

When the cat nuzzles her hand with a pleased meow, Sohee and Vern turn to glance at each other at the same time—two matching smiles plastered on their faces.

God. You can only wish to have what they do.

Once the rest of the documents have been finalized, you and Mina—who just got back from updating the vaccination records for all the animals in the shelter—see your most recent clients off. Vern the Boyfriend, Sohee the Girlfriend, and Milana the Child are off to the streets to start the next chapter of their lives or whatever.

When the door to the front entrance clicks shut, you let out the longest, deepest sigh known to mankind. Your coworker stifles a laugh.

“Looks like someone’s jealous,” Mina comments. 

You whine. “How could I not be jealous of that? They’re so in love, it’s sickening. They even got a kid together!” 

“You know, you could easily have that too if you just stopped avoiding—”

“Oh, look at the time!” You interrupt her a little too theatrically, stomping off to the direction of the break room. “Gotta go meet my thesis adviser. Kino and the other volunteers should show up in the next hour, though!”

You don’t catch the frustrated look on Mina’s face as you make a hasty retreat, but it doesn’t make you any less guilty about trying to skirt around the topic every chance you get. Mina’s always had your back during these past two weeks. Though you never told her why you’re avoiding your not-so-quote-unquote crush like the plague, she’d always come up with excuses and alibis to throw him off your trail. 

Which, coincidentally, happens again just as you’re changing out of your uniform.

“I don’t suppose you’re looking for a sibling for Hani?” you hear Mina sigh from outside.

The person she’s talking to laughs softly. “No. I think you know why I’m here again.”

God. That fucking voice.

“Well, again, she’s not here,” your coworker bluffs. “And uh, word of advice, I get that you’re hot shit and all, but if you keep trying to bother my friend who, for some reason, doesn’t want anything to do with you, I might have to call the authorities.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second.

That’s a little too different from the typical ‘oh I’m sure she’ll come around one of these days’ spiel that Mina always feeds to Wonwoo every time he visits. Sure, you’re not yet ready to face him yet after everything that’s happened, but it’s not like you want him thrown in jail—

“Uh, right. I get it,” he says awkwardly, clearing his throat in the process. “It’s just that she hasn’t spoken to me in days and I’m a little worried—”

“That’s clearly a sign for you to back off, buddy.” You can almost see Mina with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been keeping myself from saying anything about it, but I’ve always found it strange how often you visit a goddamn animal shelter. And now that she’s clearly avoiding you, you’re still trying to corner her? Are you a stalker or something?”

Fuck. This isn’t how the conversation is supposed to go! 

Mina’s job is to just politely drive Wonwoo away so you can slip out of the building without having to talk to him. But your coworker must’ve misinterpreted your persistent reluctance to meet him as genuine fear and…while you’re glad you have a friend who looks out for you like that, she’s going about all of this the wrong way!

Wonwoo doesn’t speak for a long time and your heart squeezes at the notion that he’s been called all those harsh words when all he wanted to do was talk to you. You didn’t even give him any reasons as to why you suddenly decided to cut him off. But instead of marching out there to face him and clear the air yourself…

You stay hidden in the break room like a fucking coward.

“I understand why you’d assume that, but I don’t have any ill intentions—”

“That's exactly what a guy with ill intentions would say,” Mina scoffs. “Do both of us a favor and just leave, yeah? And stop trying to contact her when she obviously wants nothing to do with you anymore.”

The silence hangs thick from outside and despite being in the break room, you swear you can almost choke on it yourself. 

You’re not sure what expression Wonwoo is wearing. Actually, you don’t even know him well enough to know those kinds of things. The most you’ve seen of his face was during that quiet night you spent together two weeks ago and you’ve severed contact with him all because of something that he probably could have explained if only you gave him the chance to.

“Okay,” he whispers so softly, you almost don’t catch it. “Thanks for your time.”

Fortunately, Mina doesn’t try to add any more fuel to the fire. All you hear is the sound of retreating footsteps and the sound of the front door clicking shut. 

It’s only when your coworker pokes her head inside the break room that you realize you’ve been holding your breath.

“He’s gone now,” she murmurs with a comforting smile. “And if he doesn’t stop bothering you even after that, I’ll raise the complaint to the director himself. I’m sure he can pull some legal strings to keep that guy out of the area for good.”

You find it kind of ironic that a few minutes ago, Mina was teasing you about him and now things have escalated into restraining order territory. But you can’t really blame her for it.

Especially when you’ve done nothing to clear up the misunderstanding.

“Right. Thanks, Mina.” You manage a thin smile, fingers absentmindedly drifting to the black cat enamel you still pinned to your uniform’s chest pocket.

“I really appreciate it.”

Haewon 🪷 [10:30]: Unnie hiii

Haewon 🪷 [10:33]: Can you call me as soon as you read this? Xoxo

You get to check Haewon’s message three hours late because finally, finally you’ve managed to defend your thesis after innumerable sleepless nights and neverending changes to your manuscript draft. Your panelists and advisers had nothing but praises to sing about your work—even going as far as to promise that your paper will definitely be published in the next volume of the academic journal you’d been secretly hoping it’ll get selected for. 

It’s still surreal that the only thing you’ve got left on your university to-do list is to attend the commencement rites scheduled in three weeks’ time. Four grueling years have really just gone by in a flash. 

After enjoying one of your last lunch breaks in the quad with some old classmates who’ve also conquered the figurative beast that is their undergrad thesis, you excuse yourself for a while to give your little sister a ring. Haewon picks up on the second ring. 

“About time you called,” she huffs. “I thought you were sleeping in the day again.”

You shake your head with a laugh despite the fact that she can’t see the gesture. “No more sleeping in the day for me ‘cause I’m graduating.”

Haewon gasps—loud enough to create static across the line. “Really? Oh my god. That’s good news then! Mom and dad were actually getting worried about you, you know? You’ve been throwing yourself into that stupid thesis of yours for a month now.” 

It takes a while for you to formulate a response, something akin to guilt creeping into your heart at the prospect of worrying your parents sick. But then again, what’s done is done. You can catch up on the several hours of sleep and countless brain cells you’ve lost trying to make your final manuscript actually make sense.

“It’s all good now,” you reassure. “All you guys have to do now is fly over to Seoul for my graduation and I can pack my bags and go back to the countryside as soon as I can.” 

You half-expect Haewon to laugh off your haste to travel back to your hometown and say something about how you’re better off in the city than this old dump. 

But you’re met with silence instead.

“Um,” she starts nervously after a few moments. “I know most of the stuff that’s been stressing you out is gone now, but… Are you sure you’re okay?”

The question makes you swallow thickly. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Unnie, I’m your sister,” Haewon says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture her scowling at you. “We both know you’ve been acting really weird ever since the pre-recording. I couldn’t pester you about it ‘cause I had to go back home the next day. And I didn’t want to bother you while you were finishing up your thesis.

“So now that all those obstacles are out of the way, do you mind telling me what’s wrong?”

The sound of the other students milling around the quad rings in your ears as you process Haewon’s words. When you take a deep breath, the exhale is accompanied by defeated laughter.

You’re an idiot to think you could ever escape your little sister’s scrutiny.

“I know you’re going to give me shit if I say it’s nothing you should worry about—”

“You’re right,” she interjects. “I will give you shit.”

“—but it really is nothing you should worry about,” you continue anyway, toying with the hem of your sweater with a wistful sigh. “Long story short, it’s…boy problems. Boy problems that I’ve ignored long enough that they just went away all on their own.”

At the other line, Haewon makes a strangled noise as if that’s not the answer she was expecting. “Come again?”

“Yeah, Hae. Your big sister actually has boy problems,” you chortle. “Weird, right?”

“Yes and you didn’t even bother telling me about it at all?!” She crows angrily. “You have to give me the gist or I’m hanging up and booking the next flight to Seoul.” 

For a moment, you hesitate and give yourself a moment to think about what you can and can’t tell Haewon over a phone call when she’s a whole plane ride away from you. 

She absolutely cannot know that the boy in question is Wonwoo. You’ll probably spend more time trying to convince her that what you’re saying is true than avoiding a pity party. So instead, you tell her:

“Well, this boy and I had…something good going for us, I think. I like him, you know—really, really like him. But then one day, I found out that he’s been keeping this important thing about himself from me.” A sigh. “Like, I know some stuff is none of my business, but it’s so easy for him to let others know about that…that thing, yet somehow he never bothered to tell me. I couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t trust me enough.”

Surprisingly, Haewon lets out a hum of understanding. “Yeah, that’s kind of a dick move on his part. Did you confront him about it?”

You find yourself tongue-tied for a moment—a bit embarrassed to admit to your little sister that you chose the coward’s way out of this. 

“Um, that’s the thing. I kind of ghosted him when I found out,” you tell her sheepishly. “I don’t think he knows the reason why I suddenly just dipped to this day. Haven’t spoken to him in…two months.” 

“Uh-huh. So all this time, you’ve been burying your guilt in schoolwork. Is that it?”

The straightforward tone catches you off guard for a second. “That’s not—”

“Unnie,” Haewon calls out firmly, making you close your mouth. “Again, I’m your sister. I know things about you that others don’t—things that you don’t either, probably. And trust me when I say this, but you are not the confrontational type. Don’t worry though because it’s perfectly fine to avoid the things you don’t want to deal with. Especially if you’re dealing with a person that’s more trouble than they’re worth.

“But…you said that you really, really like him. Present tense.” She pauses briefly, as if letting you digest what she’s saying a little better. “If the circumstances were even slightly different, I would’ve cheered you on for ghosting someone who hasn’t been one hundred percent honest with you because, duh? Deserved. But from the way you’ve been coping with what happened, I can’t help but think that avoiding him like this isn’t what you wanted to do at all.” 

Haewon’s words flow from the speaker and lance straight through your heart, and you start to wonder when she started sounding so reliable. You’re used to looking out for her even with the distance separating you. But ironically, it’s in your last year of college that your sister effortlessly dissected the dilemma that’s been plaguing you for weeks.

“Look, I think you’ll feel much better about all this if you just talk to him,” she continues when you don’t utter a word in response. “Not that I’m siding with some semi-lying jerk, but maybe he had his reasons for hiding…whatever he was hiding from you? If he gives you a bullshit excuse, then at least the ghosting will finally be justified, right?”

Her frankness makes you snort. “I guess.”

“Good. Now hang up and call him now.”

“...What?” 

“You heard me.”

“Haewon, I can’t just call him out of nowhere after ignoring him for so long.”

“Pfft. Of course you can! If he doesn’t answer, then that still justifies the ghosting because he obviously doesn’t want you enough. Men like that don’t deserve you, unnie.”

“...Fine. Point taken.”

You end the call after Haewon makes you swear to keep her posted about the situation and your love life in general from now on. Sighing, you reluctantly scroll through your messaging app—finding a conversation that’s long been buried by more recent texts from other people after he sent his final messages to you.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:35]: It’s been three weeks since you last replied. Hope you’re doing okay. 

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:36]: Mina told me that you wanted nothing to do with me anymore but I really don’t understand why because…aren’t we good? Didn’t we have something back there? Or was I just reading you wrong the whole time?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:55]: Either way, she was right about one thing at least. I’ve probably made you uncomfortable with my texts. Kind of pathetic now that I think about it. 

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:01]: I’m sorry for constantly bothering you like this. It’s just that…I want to know what went wrong.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:05]: It’s getting harder for me to sleep at night knowing I fucked up something that could’ve been the start of something nice. I was already planning our first date, you know?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:10]: Fuck. Now it just sounds like I’m gaslighting haha.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:17]: Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I don’t even know anymore.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [04:25]: What I do know is that I miss you. So much.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [10:05]: Uh. Sorry about all of that. I had a few drinks and…you know how it goes.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [10:12]: I’ll stop texting you for real now. 

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [10:15]: I hope your studies go well. Thank you for being part of my life, no matter how short our time together was.

Fuck. 

This is going to be much more difficult than you thought.

You don’t really blame yourself when it takes you a few days to decide whether or not you should call Wonwoo. The choice has been weighing on you like a cloud above your head and you had to decline several invites to go out from your friends because you simply cannot sit still, knowing that you have to do something about…whatever’s going on with the two of you.

Part of you insists on just leaving it as it is. Wonwoo is an idol that’s almost a decade into his career and you’re much too certain that he’s met enough people in his life to deem the loss of your company specifically a big deal. He has his members, his fans, and anything else a person could ever want.

So what if some college senior he doesn’t even know that well just ghosted him out of nowhere?

But even with that logic, you still end up holding your breath before pressing the call button one Tuesday afternoon. 

There are a total of five attempts made and all five lead you straight to voicemail—each instance making your heart grow heavier and heavier once the prerecorded message comes to an end. You secretly fear that he must’ve blocked your number altogether. Why wouldn’t he after you’ve wasted his time as much as you did?

Others would’ve considered this as a sign to just give up. The universe is basically telling you that the brief time you shared together would yield nothing more. Wonwoo has his own career to worry about and as do you, now that you’re finally going to be ejected from university and into the life of an unemployed fresh grad. You’re better off not chasing after the things you’ve purposely run away from in the first place.

So why on earth are you looking up the exact address of his company building, making the long commute for the slim chance of running into him against all odds?

The security around the area might look lax but you can spot the assortment of security guards stationed both inside and outside of the company building pretty easily. Given the nature of the business they’re running, it would make sense that they’d put up all possible countermeasures against people who might try to inconvenience their artists in any way.

Not wanting to be branded as a crazed fan, you decide to keep your distance—purposely lingering outside the shopping center just across the street as you brainstorm how exactly you’re going to meet up with Wonwoo. 

But as the minutes ticked past, your sense of reason is starting to overpower your desire to clear things up with him. For one, you don’t even know what his schedule looks like. How can you be so sure that he’ll even be there today? Worse, would Wonwoo even want to speak with you after everything? Despite having kept the fact that he’s an idol a secret to you all this time, he has all the right to refuse speaking with you when you never even gave him a chance to explain himself.

The noise of the busy district fades in the background as your eyes fall to Wonwoo’s final text message. You haven’t even thought of texting him since you considered reaching out. But with the fact that your earlier phone calls didn’t go through, you don’t think you can bear seeing your apologetic messages get denied in the very real chance that he’s blacklisted your number altogether.

God. You feel so pathetic.

“Hey, it’s you!”

You immediately blanche at the feeling of someone placing a hand on your shoulder—turning around to see who it is only to be met with the sight of two familiar faces.

“Oh,” you voice out somewhat dumbly. “Miss…Sohee? And Vern?”

The couple who adopted a cat from the shelter flashes you pretty smiles, the two of them carrying grocery bags in each arm. Sohee perks up when you recognize them. “Yup! I didn’t expect to see the nice shelter lady around these parts. What brings you here?”

“Just…stuff.” The laugh you spare them is a little too forced, but if they notice, they don’t comment on it. “How about you guys? How has Milana been?”

“Feels right at home in either of our apartments,” Vern chuckles. “You were right about her having high standards. We always end up doing our grocery shopping here instead of the supermarket near my place ‘cause Lana refuses to eat any of the cheap cat food being sold there.”

Sohee sighs in agreement. “Mhmm. You wouldn’t even think she was a rescue with how high maintenance she is, but we’re idiots that dote on her all the time. It’s just a good thing we work right across the street from here.”

Feeling endeared with how much they spoil their new child aside, the latter part of Sohee’s statement catches your attention for a moment. “Sorry? You work right across the street?”

The moment the words leave your lips, the charming smiles on their faces falter before the couple before you share a look. A brief moment of telepathic communication must’ve occurred between the both of them, as if wordlessly discussing whether they should respond, but in the end Sohee relents.

“Yeah. Vern and I work at HYBE,” she chuckles. “I’m actually surprised you don’t recognize him, since he’s—”

“A very loyal employee that the nice shelter lady can’t possibly recognize,” Vern interjects with a cough into his fist and the immediate reaction makes it easier to put two and two together.

He’s an idol. One hundred percent an idol.

Deciding to play along, you offer up a nod in understanding. “I see. Guess you guys are heading back for the day?”

“Yep. We had one of the other members—uh, I mean, one of our friends look after Milana while we had our grocery run,” Vern explains not-so-smoothly.

“As much as we’d like to stay and chat for a while longer, our baby kind of needs us,” Sohee tells you with an apologetic look. “I hope things at the shelter are running smoothly! We’ve seen how dedicated you guys are to taking care of those poor animals.”

You nod. “Of course. I’ll see you guys around?”

“Anytime!”

You and the beautiful couple exchange quaint bows in farewell before the two of them start walking away. But with each footstep that they take further and further away from you, the itch to run after them and ask what you’ve been dying to when they said they both worked at HYBE grows all the more unbearable.

Cut it out, you mentally hiss at yourself. You can’t bother other people about your issues with Wonwoo. That’s just a whole new low. 

You should’ve just gone the opposite direction when the conversation ended. You should’ve just directed yourself to the nearest bus stop back to your apartment—buried all of this in the past where it belongs.

But it’s as if your body has a mind of its own. The next thing you know, you’re sprinting towards Sohee and Vern before they could cross the next intersection—surprising the couple with your sudden re-entry.

“Did you need something?” Sohee asks, accommodating and confused all at once.

Now or never.

“Yes, actually,” you dole out breathlessly, pursing your lips before adding:

“Do you guys know where Wonwoo is?”

Out of all the ways you thought this day could turn out, you never would’ve imagined being in the backseat of one of HYBE’s music producers—breezing through the city’s freeway as she interrogates you about just how exactly you know Jeon Wonwoo.

“So you’re the reason he’s being so off lately,” Sohee chuckles before switching lanes. “Wonwoo’s always been the quiet type, but sometimes you can just tell when there’s a lot on his mind. Isn’t that right, Vernon?”

Vernon, who you come to realize is part of the same group as Wonwoo, glances at you from the rearview mirror with a shake of his head. “I can vouch. Wonwoo-hyung’s been working on sharing stuff with us, but of course there’s still some things he’d like to keep to himself.”

I also don’t want to be closed off from others anymore. Back then, I mostly just kept everything to myself—bottling it all up until it was just unbearable.

Great. Now you feel twice as horrible.

“Honestly, I was kind of scared that you guys would think I’m a sasaeng,” you admit with a dry laugh before settling further into the car’s plush upholstery. 

“While we have no reason not to think that with all the weirdos popping up these days,” Sohee starts before her lips curve into a smile, “it just so happens that Soonyoung also can’t keep his mouth shut about Wonwoo’s little crush.”

That makes your face heat up a little. “Soonyoung like…Wonwoo’s friend?”

“You might know him better as Hoshi,” Vernon explains. 

Hoshi, Hoshi, Hoshi…

You snap your fingers once you figure it out. “Yeah. He’s my sister’s bias wrecker.”

“Now we learn that your sister is a fan, too? Huh. Small world.”

“Anyway,” Sohee interjects. “The reason why we believed your explanation was because Soonyoung described Wonwoo’s crush as an animal lover. He’s not so much of a blabbermouth that he gave us more details aside from that, but Vernon here told me about how Wonwoo always comes late to their unit meetings because he keeps making all these detours first.”

Vernon stifles a laugh. “I actually found out about the shelter because Coups-hyung insisted that we follow him around to figure out where he’s been going. It didn’t occur to me at the time that his animal lover crush and the nice shelter lady could be the same person.”

At this point, you can honestly get used to being called a nice shelter lady. But that aside, you can’t help but flush even further at all the things being revealed to you right now. 

It’s…a lot to unpack. 

First, Wonwoo has a crush on you? A complete nobody? Then again, from how often he’s been seeking you out before things went to shit, you could infer that he’s at least a little bit interested from how he kept going out of his way to see you. He’s even late to meetings because of his little visits. This so-called crush was quite obvious, you just don’t like how flustered hearing it out loud makes you feel.

“But then Wonwoo-hyung just started showing up on time to our meetings during our comeback promotions,” Vernon continues. “We were glad we didn’t have to keep waiting for him to start, but…we also noticed that he’s been kind of down lately. The first time it happened, I assumed it was just an off day for him, though now that we met you like this, that’s definitely not the case.”

Wonwoo’s been feeling down? Because of you?

If the roles were reversed, you can say that you’d feel the same if he just stopped talking to you when you thought you were already growing closer. It doesn’t help that the last time you were together, you shared far too many kisses that mere friends should indulge each other with. 

You sigh, leaning your head against the headrest.

You’re such an idiot. A selfish, inconsiderate—

“Well, here we are.”

When the car pulls over, you don’t even realize that Sohee already left the freeway and drove into one of the roads overlooking the Han River. You can barely keep yourself from choking on your own breath when you spot a very familiar motorcycle parked in front of the vehicle. It doesn’t help that Sohee pulled over a certain spot underneath the elevated highway that you’re very much certain you’ve already been to once before.

“Hyung doesn’t know that we know about this place. He never brings anyone else here,” Vernon informs you with a small smile. “From the look on your face, we can assume that he’s already brought you here though, right?”

You can’t even deny it at this point. “Yeah…”

Sohee moves to unlock the doors before glancing behind the driver’s seat with an encouraging look. “Well, how about you clear things upso we can start going on double dates and stuff.”

“Sohee,” her boyfriend groans.

“What? I think it’d be a great idea.” She pouts. “We can even rope Nari and Mingyu into tagging along. Then it’ll be a triple date.”

“What she means to say is,” Vernon cuts in before Sohee can get another word out. “No pressure. You go sort out the stuff you need to with Wonwoo-hyung. I’m sure the two of you can make the best decision for each other once you get to talk properly.”

The best decision, huh…

Your new friends watch you with wordless encouragement as you open the door to your left, letting out a long-winded breath so you wouldn’t be too psyched out by the circumstances. You thank them both with a subtle nod as you gather enough courage to see the person you’ve been longing to meet again for a while now.

Now or never, you repeat to yourself before finally stepping out of the car.

Wonwoo’s thinking spot looks much different in the day than it does at night.

You had a pretty hard time navigating the short terrain from the road to the old, weathered steps of the watchtower because of the lack of proper illumination. If it weren’t for Wonwoo guiding you the entire time, you would’ve face planted into the pebbled pathway on the first few steps. 

The sun is already setting when you make it to your destination—red orange rays splintering through the high rise buildings on the other side of the river bank. It’s not difficult to spot Wonwoo’s tall figure leaning across the rusty railing of the watchtower, a gentle smile gracing his handsome face as he plays with the growing kitten in his arms. 

He doesn’t notice you at the foot of the concrete steps right away, too engrossed with playing with Hani to take in the rest of his surroundings. But the longer you watch them from afar, the more your chest twists with guilt.

All this time, you never really thought about how Wonwoo must’ve been faring since you ghosted him. You merely assumed that he’d still be living his best life despite what happened between the two of you. The thought that he’ll still be better off without you in his life spurred you on to solely focus on the things you’ve got going on your end. You didn’t consider just how your actions would affect him. Not even once. 

But now, despite having such an adorable cat to keep him company, it isn’t hard to tell that he’s not in the most stellar of moods.

It’s not like you’ve seen Wonwoo smile a lot when you still knew him as Woo—no thanks to his silly little face masks. But you always liked how his eyes crinkled behind his glasses whenever you said something he finds funny or amusing. The easygoing body language he always seemed to have around you.

There’s none of that now.

“Wonwoo.”

He visibly stiffens at the sound of someone calling his name. Cautiously, Wonwoo tucks Hani closer to his chest—glancing around for anyone who could have infiltrated his safe haven.

When his eyes land on you, you can almost hear his breath hitch from where you’re standing.

Seeing no indication that he doesn’t want you here, you swallow the lump in your throat before climbing up the stairs. Each step you take is familiar yet foreign at the same time and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears the closer you get to him. The startled expression on Wonwoo’s face doesn’t falter even when you’re mere feet in front of him on top of the watchtower—like he’s having a hard time grasping your existence.

Hani, however, doesn’t seem all that fazed. The black kitten mewls in delight at the sight of you, squirming around in Wonwoo’s arms, which seems to snap her owner out of his stupor.

His throat bobs. “You know my name.”

You laugh softly. “It isn’t hard to figure it out when you’re as famous as you are.”

Silence permeates the air by the riverside as Wonwoo processes the words you just told him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, hands absentmindedly running across Hani’s fur.

“So that’s why,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. “I should’ve known…”

You mirror the gesture somewhat vigorously, your throat closing up from all the things you want to say. He doesn’t deserve to be left hanging all because of that stupid reason alone. He doesn’t deserve those hurtful words from Mina.

Most of all, he doesn’t deserve to feel this shitty all because you were too much of a coward to communicate with him.

“I’m sorry.” 

He startles at your apology—obviously not expecting that to be the first thing you say to him after two months of radio silence. “W-Why are you sorry? I should be—”

“It was unfair of me to just ghost you like that when you haven’t explained yourself,” you murmur, tucking your hands behind your back as you stare down at your shoes in shame. “I’m sure you had your reasons for not telling me right away, but… I selfishly thought you didn’t trust me enough to let me know.”

“No,” he quickly clarifies. “It’s not like that at all. I trust you—so much.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It took me a while, but I realized that along the way. The last time we were here, you entrusted me with the story of how you coped with losing someone. You entrusted me with your thoughts, your feelings, your secrets. And I took all that for granted because you didn’t tell me you were an idol.”

Wonwoo falls silent for only a moment as if considering what words to say next. Hani seems to sense his distress, cuddling up to his chest in an attempt to soothe him. He notices what she’s doing right away and Wonwoo scratches behind her ears with a breathless chuckle.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t plan on hiding it forever. I knew you would find out eventually—just not as soon as you did,” he murmurs. “It was also unfair of me to take advantage of the fact that you didn’t know me as Wonwoo. But…I wanted to keep my career out of the equation first because it’s nice being treated like a normal person. You never put me on a pedestal or looked at me like I was some sort of god.

“You treated me like I was human.”

This time, you’re the one who’s at a loss for words. 

Having Haewon as a sister, you have this preconceived notion about idols where they have the world in the palm of their hands. You thought for the longest time that all they had to do was go up the stage to sing and dance and look beautiful and the rest will follow. 

Hearing Wonwoo tell you this easily subverted all those assumptions. 

You’ve never been good at telling people the things they need to hear. That’s Haewon’s area of expertise, not yours. So instead of offering up any words of comfort, you quickly close the distance that’s been keeping you apart to throw your arms around his broad shoulders.

Wonwoo freezes up when you pull him into a hug and he loathes the fact that he can’t even reciprocate it given that he has his hands full. It’s kind of adorable how careful you’re being to make sure you don’t accidentally squish Hani between your bodies. 

Suddenly, all that heaviness that’s been lingering in his heart for weeks dissipates in a flash. Wonwoo relishes in the feeling of your warmth seeping into his, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds back his emotions.

“Can we start over again?” you murmur. “We still haven’t had our first date, right?”

When you feel the sound of his laughter rumbling in his chest, you can’t help the goosebumps that rise across your skin. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to forgive me that fast.”

Pulling away for a moment, you shoot him a dirty look. “Jeon Wonwoo, are you saying I’m easy?”

“Not at all.” Wonwoo grins and you can barely look at him without recoiling at how good he looks. 

His hair has grown much longer than you remember and seeing the smile that oh-so easily hooked you in deeper than you already were, you already know that you can’t ever hope to put up a fight. 

Not when he’s so love-of-your-life-shaped.

“Since we’re at the point of catching up, I’m actually graduating in three weeks.”

Wonwoo sharply turns to look at you with a scowl as he puts Hani in a little cat backpack he got for her. “Three weeks? Shit… I think we’re going to have a concert at that time.”

You wave away his concern with a smile. “I didn’t mean I was expecting you to show up at the venue, doofus. Can’t have any weird rumors about you going around by attending my graduation.”

“Rumors about what?” he challenges.

“You know.”

“I actually don’t.”

“We just made up ten minutes ago, Do you really want me to bail on you again?”

“Hey, I just thought that if you ever want to spark some dating rumors, we can make it happen any time.” 

“We’re not even dating!”

“Not yet.”

“What?”

“It’s just like you said—I still owe you that first date, don’t I?”

“...Have I told you that you’re insufferable?”

“I’m actually surprised you didn’t start calling me that when I kept visiting the shelter too often to be considered normal.”

“That reminds me, why were you visiting the shelter so much?”

When Wonwoo hands you Hani’s cat backpack, you take it as an invitation to hitch a ride on his motorcycle. After all, it would be uncomfortable to have it sitting between the two of you. However, he takes you completely by surprise by answering you with:

“I like you. That’s why.”

It takes you about five whole seconds to recover from what he just said but it’s five seconds too late because Wonwoo is already chuckling to himself as if he deserves to have the last laugh.

“You’re lucky that I like you too,” you mumble as you carefully hop on his ride—sitting comfortably behind him while making sure Hani is strapped securely behind you. “If I didn’t, Mina would’ve made our boss file a restraining order against you.”

Wonwoo hands you a spare helmet before putting on his own, laughing again as he clicks the lock in place. “Dating rumors and stalking rumors? Being with you sounds like such a big hassle now.”

“Are we going on that first date or not?!”

Two months after graduating and four weeks into officially dating Jeon Wonwoo, you find out the real reason he was taking so damn long to make up his mind about adopting Hani.

The landlord doesn’t prohibit pets—he loves them, actually. 

His dog, Seol, is a little shy, but she gets along with Hani just fine.

But then his old roommate, Mingyu, dropped by to visit Wonwoo’s apartment one day, sneezing all over the place like it’s pollen season. Except the pollen in question is cat fur and it just so happens that he didn’t bring any of his allergy meds for the trip.

“As much as I want to cuddle on the couch catching up on the Marvel Cinematic Universe with you guys, I gotta go,” Mingyu explains while blowing his nose into a tissue. “I’ll die if I spend even a second longer here.”

Wonwoo throws a piece of popcorn at him. “Didn’t you say that you’re going on a date with Nari?”

“Oh. That, too.”

“If she finds out that you just remembered as an afterthought, she’s going to kill you,” you tease while shoving a handful of your movie snacks into your mouth. “At least, that’s what I’d do if Wonwoo did the same thing.”

“Oh, she will. That’s why neither of you are going to tattle on me,” the beefy idol huffs before tossing the soiled tissue in the trash bin. “Anyway, Wonwoo-hyung, you should totally keep in touch with this pet sitter that Seungcheol-hyung discovered recently. A bunch of other artists leave their pets with her whenever they have tight schedules.”

Your boyfriend merely looks at him with an unimpressed look. “Are you saying that just so I can leave Hani there when you come over to play video games with me?”

“Yes.”

Mingyu leaves shortly after receiving a phone call from his girlfriend, Nari, who sounded nothing short of furious when she asked where on earth he is and why he’s late for their date again. Wonwoo tells you that his best friend has a thing for pissing off Nari just so he has an excuse to do grand gestures for her without his girlfriend complaining about it. You tell him that he should start doing the same too.

“By the way, you’re flying back to Jeju for a while, right?” Wonwoo asks once the credits start rolling in the film playing on his TV—the loose grip he has around your waist tightening ever-so slightly.

You shift your weight on the couch to cuddle closer to him. “Yeah. I haven’t seen my parents and Haewon since I graduated. Plus, I don’t have to start working until next month, so I can afford a last-minute getaway.”

He nods. “I still think it’s funny you haven’t told your sister about me. Are you ashamed of me or something?”

“Quit saying weird stuff, Jeon Wonwoo,” you huff before hitting him in the chest. Damn those firm pecs. “I just want to see the look on her face when she finds out I’m dating the person she ships with Mingyu for fun.”

“And I still can’t believe my future sister-in-law is a Gyuldaengie.”

You try not to think about how he said Haewon is his future in-law. You really do.

Once the last of the end credits pans on-screen, the bonus scene at the end of every Marvel movie starts playing and you can’t help but snort when Eddy gets snapped back to his own universe before he can even pay off his tab to the bartender. Just when you’re about to ask Wonwoo if he wants to watch the next movie, you realize he’s had his eyes on you the entire time.

“What?” you laugh.

“Nothing,” he whispers. “I just thought you were really pretty.”

“Wonwoo, you tell me that every thirty minutes. Don’t you get tired of it?”

You yelp when he abruptly pulls you onto his lap, steadying you by the hips so you wouldn’t accidentally topple to the floor. He flashes you a lazy grin as he traces circles along the curve of your thighs and you can barely suppress a groan when you look down at him.

He might look like some otherworldly creature every time he kills it on stage, but you love this Wonwoo just the same—dressed down with his glasses sitting all crooked on the bridge of his nose, hair falling across his eyes. 

“Never,” he says simply. 

There’s something oddly sensual about the way he says it and at that moment, you catch on to the half-lidded look in his eyes. You gulp, gaze instinctively wandering around his apartment to look for Hani and Seol, who you spot dozing next to each other in the kitchen. 

Now that you’re sure none of the kids are watching, you let out a defeated sigh before lacing your arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss him.

Wonwoo is a guy you caved and kissed before the first date, so it’s pretty natural for the two of you to fall into this degree of intimacy every now and again. His effect on you is especially lethal whenever you spend several days apart because of the nature of his career. 

But even if you’re yet to cross that line with your boyfriend, the possibility of it finally coming into fruition becomes more and more real every time his hot tongue slides against yours. 

“Won…woo—” you gasp when you feel his cold fingers sneak up your shirt, hands firmly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. 

Your boyfriend chuckles and the low vibrations that come from his chest shoot straight to your core. “I know tonight was supposed to be movie night, but you’re making it really hard to keep my hands off of you.” 

“That’s what you say all the time,” you groan as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. Fuck. “Always blaming me for your lack of self-control.”

“I can’t help it when you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips before tugging you back down for another heated kiss.

You’ve fooled around with Wonwoo a handful of times and during said times, you’ve gotten an idea of how…into it he gets when pleasuring you. It’s almost as if he delights in seeing you come undone for him even if it’s just with his mouth and fingers. 

It’s during those moments that you can’t help but imagine how he would be once the two of you finally take things all the way. But for all your teasing about how he has questionable self-control, Wonwoo has done nothing but respect the boundaries you’ve clearly set when you started dating. 

“Fuck,” he rasps when he pulls away briefly, resting his head against the cushions of the sofa as he closes his eyes. “Baby, we’ve gotta stop or else I might just cave and fuck you.”

You simper. “You’re the one who started this.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m putting a stop to it before I end up doing something you don’t like!”

You shift around on his lap for a moment and Wonwoo is convinced that you’ll give him some reprieve and get off of him before he loses his mind. But then he realizes you’re grinding your hips against the hard-on he’s sporting in his sweats. 

Chuckling to yourself, you pull him by the front of his shirt—pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth before leaning into his ear to whisper:

“What if I want you to fuck me, Woo?”

The deep growl that resonates in his throat sounds so fucking hot, you can feel a gush of slick surge between your thighs. He doesn’t say a word—merely opting to keep his hard stare on yours as he wraps your legs around his waist. You immediately get the gist and hold on tight to him as he carries you out of the living room and into his bedroom.

“I’m giving you a chance to back out again, sweetheart,” he sighs as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Think you can handle it when I get serious about fucking you until you can’t walk?”

The mental image he conjures in your head has you mewling in his arms, prompting you to pepper his neck with sloppy kisses as he gropes your ass like it’s always belonged to him. 

“Think you can actually make good on that though?” you challenge with a soft chuckle, grazing your teeth just below his collarbone. You won’t bite—knowing that his stylists will give him hell for it if he shows up to work with hickeys. “We both know you like to talk big sometimes.”

Wonwoo breathes out a condescending chuckle before gently easing you on top of the mattress. You didn’t think it was possible, but you swear you get even wetter when he takes off his glasses and licks his lips at the sight of you.

“Oh, baby, you’re in for a fucking ride.”

That’s how you find yourself with your back pressed against Wonwoo’s insanely sculpted chest—both your mouth and pussy stuffed with his thick fingers as he works you open enough to take his cock. He slides those thick digits in and out of your wet channel, making sure you get used to the stretch all while he muffles your noises at the same time. 

Normally, he likes hearing you get whiney and desperate for him, but there’s a charm to seeing you slobber all over his fingers as you clench up around the ones buried in your pussy. 

“Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight for me,” he whispers huskily in your ear and the sound of his rough voice layered with the lewd squelch of your cunt makes your insides tingle. “Been thinking about having this pretty pussy all to myself for a while now. You gonna let me have it now, baby? Let me wreck you on my cock?”

Wonwoo easily has the hottest voice you’ve ever heard in your entire life. While you often think about how you can fall asleep happily just listening to him talk about anything under the sun, it’s an entirely different story when he’s spouting all this filth into your ear as he prepares you for an overdue dicking down. 

“Yes, please—” You sob pathetically when he takes his fingers out of your mouth, curling your arm behind you so you can blindly grab his hair and mend your lips into a messy kiss. “Wonwoo, I need you so bad.”

“Desperate little thing,” your boyfriend chuckles before withdrawing his fingers from your needy hole. The loss has you writhing in his lap, one hand shooting out to keep him where you want him but Wonwoo coos into your ear as if to pacify you. “Shhh, baby, I need you to come first before I fuck you. You’ll be good for me and let me make you come, right?” 

Shit. Who are you to refuse when he propositions you like that?

“I need an answer, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be good,” you gasp almost immediately as your boyfriend starts parting your pussy lips with the hand that was muffling your cute noises. “I’ll be so good for you, please just—”

“Just what, baby?” Wonwoo teases and you nearly cry.

“M-Make me come on your fingers…”

He hums, slick fingers gliding along your slit. “Not if you don’t say—”

“Please,” you whimper before grinding your pussy against his hand. “Wonwoo, I wanna come. Wanna come so bad. Want you to stuff me full of your cock. Want you to—” 

It’s almost like he tapped in on every single nerve ending in your body when his dexterous fingers find your clit—rubbing the puffy bud in fast, tight circles as you start twitching in his arms. Wonwoo lets out another evil laugh as he forcibly pries your legs apart. The firmness of his grip leaves you no choice but to thrash around as he builds your orgasm from the ground up, trailing wet kisses along the column of your throat as he teases an orgasm out of you with the sound of his voice coupled with his sinful ministrations.

“So wet and ready for me. Have you thought about taking me inside this sweet little pussy? Do you think you can even fit me when you’re this tight?” he breathes into your ear and you don’t even have the dignity to bite down your moans anymore. “You’re so close, sweetheart. Let yourself go and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll blow your pretty back out over and over until you’re sick of me.”

Never, you want to tell him. I’ll never get sick of you, stupid Wonwoo.

Funnily enough, that silent jab at him is quickly followed by a mind-numbing release. It washes over you like a storm surging into a calm shore—overloading every cell in your body with pleasure until the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken rendition of your lover’s name. 

Wonwoo talks you through your high because he knows you’ve got a thing for his voice. Knows just how much tighter you get when he whispers filthy words with a sultry sweet tone. 

And when he growls, “Good fucking girl,” into your ear, you’re convinced he just made you come again while still riding the waves of your first orgasm. 

For all his vigor, Wonwoo is surprisingly patient with you as you recover from what he just put you through. He plants brief kisses all over your neck and face until your breathing finally evens out and you stop seeing stars in the seams of your vision. Your boyfriend offers up a gentle smile when you finally come to—leaning in to kiss your nose.

“You still want more?” he whispers, exercising enough restraint to be revered despite the fact that you can feel his hard, leaking cock pressed against the small of your back. 

A soft, somewhat weak laugh makes its way past your lips as you turn around to peck his lips. Wonwoo smiles against your mouth and you can’t help but do the same.

Then, you issue another challenge.

“Do your worst.”

You’re grateful now more than ever that Wonwoo is the easiest person to talk to in the entire world. You can practically count the things that he wouldn’t want to discuss with you on one hand alone. 

In other words, you’ve already had the necessary conversations about sex, should you ever have it with him in the future (A.K.A., right now). Wonwoo knows you’ve been on birth control ever since you moved to Seoul all those years ago. He knows that you get yourself tested at least once every month if you can and assures you that he does the same.

On the other hand, you’re well aware that your boyfriend has a thing for coming inside, and now that you’ve gone this far with him, you’ll gladly let Wonwoo make his fantasies a reality. 

He only agreed to it once you promised to tell him whenever you feel like he’s going too far or if he’s doing something you don’t like. You swear you would’ve married him on the spot, if it weren’t for that tiny voice in your head that suspiciously sounds like Haewon telling you off for losing it over a man who’s doing the bare minimum.

With those measures in place, you feel safe enough to let Wonwoo press your face down onto the mattress as his free hand grips your ass—fucking into your tight cunt as he tries (and fails) to keep himself from being too rough with you. 

He really, really wanted to be gentle, considering it’s your first time to lie together like this. But your unfiltered reactions do nothing but test both his patience and self-control in more ways than one. All his plans on making love to you in good old missionary have been tossed out of the window now that you’ve given him the green light to actually fuck you until you can’t walk.

“Wonwoo,” you moan, fists curling into the sheets as he cants his hips deeper and deeper—the head of his cock hitting spots your own fingers could never hope to reach. “S-So fucking good…”

“Yeah?” he breathes raspily before leaning down to press his chest against your back, wanting to engulf you in the heat of his body until it’s all you’ll ever know. “My pretty baby loves my cock that much? You want me to fuck you all the time now?”

“Uh huh.” You nod before letting out a high pitched keen when he amps up the speed of his thrusts—slamming his hips harder against your ass.

Wonwoo thinks he could really get used to the sight of your pretty pussy sucking him in like this. You’re so greedy—clamping down on him as tightly as you do as you moan his name like it’s the only word in your vocabulary. But how could you not when each vein that runs along the underside of his perfect cock drags so deliciously across your velvet walls? When his balls—hot and heavy and full of enough cum to fill you to the brim—keep clapping against your pussy with each powerful thrust?

It’s the first time that you got to get a taste of what your boyfriend is capable of in bed and you can only imagine every instance that will follow once all’s said and done.

When he feels your walls start to spasm around his length every now and again, Wonwoo presses a sloppy kiss across the cut of your jaw—a hand sliding between your thighs so he can find that little bundle of nerves that made you fall apart only several minutes ago. Your reaction is immediate—crying and squirming below him even when you’re helpless against his massive frame pressing you down into the bed. 

“I’m so close, baby,” he groans into your ear, holding out for as long as he can just so he can feel the sensation of you coming around his cock. “You’re almost there, too, aren’t you? My good girl—taking my dick like it’s always been yours. Can you come with me? You can do that for me, right, sweetheart?”

The fondness in his voice strings you even further apart and you’re nothing but a mess of pleasure and delirium as Wonwoo continues his assault on your poor, abused clit. He knows just the right amount of pressure to use and manages to time his thrusts with each delicious pass on that oversensitive bud.  

It’s all over before you know it. 

You let out a long-winded moan that will definitely earn him a couple of noise complaints from the neighbors but Wonwoo doesn’t have it in him to fucking care at the moment. Not when your walls are clamping down so tightly around his cock—making each stroke all the more tantalizing as your pussy milks him for everything he’s got to give you. 

You mindlessly babble a string of I love yous against the sheets, a trail of drool dripping onto the mattress as Wonwoo fucks into you with heightened ferocity. He catches every single word you say and he tilts your head to the side so he can kiss you. Your boyfriend forces your tongue into a dance with his own until his hips stutter and stop—white hot emission surging into your cunt in thick spurts that he hopes would stay inside you for days if he can help himself.

You’re a mess—face painted with a fucked out expression as your pussy leaks with a mixture of yours and Wonwoo’s cum. The mere sight of it is almost enough to make him hard again, but he tells himself that he can take you up on marathon sex next time.

For now, he just wants to clean you up and tuck you back into bed.

“Woo?”

He turns to face you with a questioning look. Your boyfriend just finished with your mandatory aftercare session and is in the middle of making the bed comfortable enough for some post-sex cuddles. “Hmm?”

“You’re still free next week right?” you ask, drawing silly shapes on his chest with your finger once he finally lays down next to you.

“Yeah. I don’t have any major schedules until…” He pauses before conjuring up an imaginary calendar in his mind. “Next month. Why?”

Despite all the debauchery you’ve subjected each other to in a single night, your face still flushes as you consider what you’re about to ask him. Wonwoo smiles at that. Cute.

“How do you feel about flying to Jeju with me so I can introduce you to my family?” you ask shyly, gulping with a nervous laugh. “I totally get it if your management won’t allow it though. It’s hard to keep the media off your back when you’re so famous and—”

He doesn’t do this often, but Wonwoo shuts you up with a firm kiss.

“What are you talking about?�� he murmurs, caressing your face tenderly. “Of course I want to meet them.”

When your eyes light up at his confirmation, Wonwoo swears that he couldn’t be more in love.

Me [11:23]: hae, i’ve got good news~

Haewon 🪷 [11:24]: You’re bringing Mingyu with you to Jeju so we can get married?

Me [11:26]: very funny

Me [11:26]: not to spoil your delusions or anything but i’m bringing my boyfriend

Haewon 🪷 [11:30]: Omg… 

Haewon 🪷 [11:30]: Rudeness aside, is it the same guy from before? 

Me [11:31]: yep

 Haewon 🪷 [11:32]: AAAAAAAAA

 Haewon 🪷 [11:32]: I can’t wait to meet him!

 Haewon 🪷 [11:34]: He better be treating you right or I’ll drop kick him off Jusangjeollidae

Me [11:40]: you’ve already met him though~

Haewon 🪷 [11:41]: ?

Haewon 🪷 [11:45]: Unnie, what do you mean…

Haewon 🪷 [12:32]: Hey!!!!

⟢ end notes: if you've made it til the end, congrats! this is the last of the doting on you! series (for now~) and i really hope you enjoyed reading through it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! special thanks to all the friends that read through this for me T T i wouldn't have done it without any of you ueueue and to everyone that has been patiently waiting for me to put up the last installment for the series, thank you for waiting <3 i hope you guys continue to support me with my future work as well!

this is part of the doting on you! series.

[phyrestartr]

Love Is Not My Right | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 1.1k

#NSFW, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, reader is early thirties, sukuna is mid twenties, reader is a uni prof, sukuna is a uni student, DON'T SLEEP WITH YOUR PROFS IRL PLS THANK YOU, questionable relationship, smut, fluff, angst, self-deprecating reader, soft sukuna?, sukuna has daddy and mommy issues, not edited that much lol IT'S A DRABBLE STFU

tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork (SOZ IF Y'ALL HAVE ALREADY READ THIS HFOHGIOHG JUST REMEMBERED I DIDN'T ADD TAGS)

“Fuck, Teach,” Sukuna groaned. His hips pistoned against yours harder, accentuated by the sharp clap of skin meeting skin. He squeezed your thigh, the one of the leg thrown over his shoulder, before slapping the side of your ass as his head tilted back with a throaty groan.

You, on the other hand, were a trembling mess--and at the hands of your student, no less. Everything about this was uncouth as could be; Sukuna was nearly a decade your junior, he was in your class, and he had zero qualms about the fact that you were his professor. He saw you, decided he wanted you, and would therefore have you.

It was easy saying no in the beginning. He was a typical punk with sharp wit and a sharper tongue--many men like him had made passes at you in the confines of your classroom, but Sukuna had the smarts and charisma to back up his flirtatious remarks and daring whispers.

But, if you were being honest, maybe it was because you'd been engaged twice, un-engaged thrice (long story). Maybe it was because you'd been cheated on and dumped on loop. Maybe it was because you'd given up on romance and sex and everything else and–well, maybe that was why you succumbed to his advances. Maybe you were just sad and lonely, willing to be taken advantage of under the man's misguided thought that you'd give him a better grade if he fucked you good enough. You wouldn't. But he never asked for it, either.

You jumped when another sharp spank sent ripples of bitter pleasure and pinching pain fluttering across your skin. The simple feeling had you clamping down around the man and gasping.

“Itadori-kun–”

“What did I say?” Sukuna groaned, spanking you again and adjusting the leg hooked over his shoulder. “First name.”

Your eyes blurred slightly from the embarrassment and pleasure of it all. “I--but that's–”

“I'm ‘boutta cum in your ass, ‘n you're worried about honorifics?” Sukuna cackled, holding your thigh with both hands as he focused harder on moving his hips faster and faster. “‘M fucking you…in your own fuckin’ bed…and you're–ah–worried about–fuck, you're so fucking good--fuck.”

The searing friction eating you alive tripled in Sukuna's frenzy to reach his second high of the night. You burned alive, shyly crying out as he hit your soft spot over and over, tightening up more and more until you plummeted into your third (fourth? Fifth?) orgasm dealt by Itadori Sukuna's hand. Well, hand, mouth, and cock.

“Sukuna,” you gasped, curling into yourself and subsequently toward him, fisting one hand into his dark hoodie to try and ground yourself against the relentless assault.

His hips stuttered when you called his name. His lips crashed against yours, then, with teeth clacking together and tongue bullying into your mouth as he trembled and slammed in with too-much strength to pour his cum into your core.

“F-fuck. Love that sh-shit,” he stuttered as his stomach tightened and contracted, his eyes rolling back before they fell closed to indulge in the pleasure crashing down on him. But his body's seizing didn't stop his hips from moving–he kept pushing and pushing, hard and sloppy and weak but so, so desperate to jam more and more deeper and deeper into you.

Eventually, when you were both threadbare and burnt out, he pulled out and collapsed beside you with a pleased sigh. You hugged a pillow and fought to catch your breath, but Sukuna, the brat he was, tugged away your life boat to replace it with himself.

You sighed, baffled and exhausted. “Sukuna–”

“What? ‘M allowed to fuck you but not–”

“You–I–we shouldn't be–I shouldn't be doing this,” you argued. “You're too young, I'm your professor. You should be looking for people your own age–”

“Not like I fucking chose this for the thrill,” he scoffed, tucking his arm under his head as he looked at your tired face. “This looks bad on me, too. Looks like I'm tryna fuck good grades out of you.”

You huffed and fixed his hoodie's tangled drawstrings. “You already get good grades. No one would believe that.”

“‘M a fucking genius. Everyone knows,” he agreed with a smirk. “But the other extras in your class? They'll act like it's somethin’ else. They'll jump on whatever the fuck they can to make their own pathetic asses feel less guilty for sucking so hard at life.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help a smile. “Well, this'll look worse on me. Either you did fuck grades out of me, or I'm holding said grades hostage ‘n making you sleep with me lest they suddenly drop.”

Sukuna hummed and slid a hand to your bare waist. “Ho? I like the sound of that. Guess I'll have to try harder to make sure I stay your favourite. I could go for a 4.4."

“Please–don't roleplay that,” you begged, feeling more tired by the second. “Just promise me you'll move on and forget about this after finals. Please. It's in your best interest.”

“Yeah? ‘N what's in your best interest, Teach?” Sukuna wondered. His knuckles brushed against the curve of your cheek, and you felt your heart ache with loneliness. But you'd never admit you wanted this. You'd never admit you wanted a cure for being unlovable.

“Keeping you safe,” you said, pulling his hand from your face and squeezing it tightly, “Is in my best interest. I want you to be happy, to stay out of trouble. And this? This can only breed trouble.”

“Trouble ain't so bad.”

“Sukuna.”

“After finals, ‘m not your student anymore,” Sukuna reminded.

Your face got a little hot. “Don't twist this–”

“Twist it? Tch. It's just facts.” He looped his arms around your smaller frame and tugged you in close. “So I'm gonna keep taking my daddy issues out on you even after the semester ends.”

You had to laugh. “That's–you're a little too self-aware–”

“Pretty sure that's a good thing, no?” He yawned and tugged the blankets up over the both of you. “You're starting to piss me off with all the resistance. Just take it. Like how you take my cock.”

You sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket over the younger man more. “You have a dangerous mouth on you, y’know that?”

Sukuna smirked. “Like hearin' that from you.”

“Right. Well, I need to wash up.” You brushed his hair back against your better judgment. “You need anything?”

The look he sent you made everything ache more; it was something so warm and lazy, half-lidded eyes fighting to stay open as your tender touches lulled him to sleep. It was so strange, the apparent peace you brought to such an explosive soul. It almost made you think this could work.

“Jus’ make sure you come back,” he grumbled before letting his eyes fall closed. “Fucking kill you if you don't.”

You smiled the tiniest bit as you brushed his hair back a few more times. “Promise I will,” you whispered, earning a soft grunt of approval in return.

But as you sauntered to the bathroom, shedding whatever clothes you somehow still had on, you cried.

[housethemd]

My headcanons for a 2024(ish) House MD (self indulgent sorrysorry)

- House is canonically bisexual, and instead of hookers (or maybe as well as) he’s very open about his Tinder/Grindr hookups.

- Wilson is still a closet case, somehow. All his friends are queer, he is very active as an ally, but has somehow not figured it out. He even has little pride flags in his office pencil holder.

- Cuddy is a lesbian, she and House still flirt for funsies (worth noting I think her and House still had a one night stand in college before she came out, prompting a running joke that sex with House turned her into a lesbian)

- Chase goes viral on twitter (X) when he starts live tweeting House’s antics during DDx’s (his handle is @thataussiedoc and all his DDx tweets are tagged #mycrazyboss)

- The ducklings make tiktok videos when they don’t have a case. The first time House catches them they are expecting him to call them idiots or throw them out of the DDx room, but instead he joins them. Cue House doing a hilarious tiktok dance.

- Non-binary Thirteen my beloved

- Foreman plays Pokemon Go

- House gets a Nintendo Switch for his office so he can game in there, and when forced to go do clinic duty switches to handheld mode

- House and Kutner will game together when they don’t have a case

- There is a PPTH Diagnostics Dept. Discord server

- Foreman hates Apple products

- Cameron has one of those rainbow pins that says “you’re safe with me” she wears on her white coat

- House learns Gen Z slang and spends an entire episode talking exclusively in it - and everyone else is left trying to piece together what he’s saying

- House is canonically autistic but it only comes out during “Lines in the Sand” or similarly themed episode. I feel like either Chase or Foreman get snippy during the DDx and makes a muttered, offhand comment about House, something to the effect of “yeah well maybe you have autism too” and House is like “well duh.” They spend the rest of the episode approaching the other ducklings, Wilson, etc about how they feel, now that they know that House has autism only to be met with general indifference. Maybe it ends when they go to Cuddy and she reminds them what a great doctor House is and all that and eventually they are forced to confront their own internalized ableism.

- PPTH definitely has a float in the pride parade every year

- Chase plays Among Us

- Lesbian Cameron but also CompHet. Like the first couple seasons she hasn’t figured it out yet.

- Hilson is absolutely made canon at some point

I told you they were self indulgent. Might reblog to add more as I think of them!

[bitchlessdino]

lee chan needs love too (m)

Pairing: fuckboy!chan x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor

Word count: 9.3k

tags: pwithp, mention of high school, mention of alcohol, college au, virgin!chan, fuckboy!chan, frat boy!chan, lip piercing!chan, blonde!chan, yearning, car sex, unprotected sex, breasts play, oral (rec.), degradation, kinda exhibitionism, manhandling, possessive!chan, pet names

Summary: There was Lee Chan from High school and now Lee Chan from college. You insist they are not the same person. The only thing they have in common is they both got to fuck you.

author note: happy early bday to me hehe 🥳🥂🎉🎊🎂 this was entirely self indulgent and although i think i could've done better with the plot, i think it makes sense some what for what it is and regardless i hope you guys enjoy. at least the banner is very cute and look blonde chan even has a piercing.

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han

The last time you saw Lee Chan was in the back of his used Camry at Boo Seungkwan’s graduation party. 

He blossomed the fuck out of nowhere into an unrecognizable gorgeous specimen of a man when you caught him fucking your roommate during the middle of finals season when you desperately need the peace and quiet to study. It was probably the dead of night—10 pm in your case—and the juice in your Bluetooth earbuds had just died. It was especially unfortunate since they were sound blocking you didn’t realize how badly you needed it with the fuckfest in the room across from you.

By the sound of it, Minnie was having a great time—which you usually aren’t mad about—but so was her friend, who you might add was obnoxiously loud (hot too, but that wasn't the point). You screamed at them from your desk, but you doubt they heard anything with the music on blast you’re assuming was to block out their noise. It was proven less than fruitful when you get no response in return. Finally, you forced yourself out of your room and began pounding hard against her door in desperate pleas. “I should be used to it by now, but please, please keep it down, even a smidge. I have a really important exam in the afternoon. And I can’t t—“

Before you can continue rambling, the door opens from the other side. You met the eyes of a bottle blonde, 5’8, taut and misted with sweat all over, adorned with a pretty piece of metal at his bottom lip. Oh no, he’s hot.

The man looked surprised at your appearance, despite the fact he was the one that turned the knob and swung it open. He stood there, looking more attractive than you anticipated, and just observed you in incomprehensible disbelief. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah. Look I get it, you guys have every right to…continue what you’re doing, all I ask is,” You squeeze your index and thumb to indicate something small, “take it down a notch, a little notch.”

He scoffed, looking amused. He crossed his arms and lean against the door frame, very fortunately wearing underwear (boner shapely and defined). And it only took a second for you to trace the outline of his gorgeously crafted body. As if he was made with marble, he looks as though one of the greats did him a solid by sculpting him one of the most beautiful bodies you’ve ever seen. You almost didn't realize you were ogling at it until he began to speak in his smooth tenor tone of voice. “Can't really take a notch down, but I can promise it’ll be quick.”

You didn’t like the suggestion in his tone nor the wink he displayed either.

“Come back to bed,” your roommate whined in the background. You shut your eyes in disdain, now in disbelief that you were negotiating with one of her hookups right now. “How quick?”

He grinned. “How do you feel about joining?”

“Not happening.”

“Then…” he pondered in thought, “give or take 10, 15 minutes.”

“How the hell is that quick? Don’t college guys cum for like 5 minutes?”

He chortled, and you caught that gleaming smile that likely coerced your roommate in the first place. “I’m a feminist. Ladies first.”

“I’m also a lady, so I say, make it quick…please and thank you.” You walked off with that and waited patiently for them to be done, only to realize it was going to take way longer for both of them to finish than it would be to charge your earbuds halfway, so you settled for the latter.

By the time he left, it was the morning after and you were honest to Minnie about ‘not liking this one,’ to which she laughed like it was the funniest thing you ever said.

Pieces really began to be put together one afternoon going through your old school yearbooks when you found them in the back of your closet. Minnie joined you in your period of nostalgia, wanting to see possible future hotties to cross reference to now. Then she sees him, points out the fact he was the one you confront around a week ago, and it all comes full circle. Your eyes shot back at the aged pages in pure shock, pulling it up to face to make sure you were seeing it clearly. “No way...”

“Oh my god,” she pulled it back from you, “Chan looks so cute here. I just wanna gobble him and put him in my pocket.”

He had his natural black hair, kind brown eyes, and—dawning on you on that very second—the smile that bares more joy than a kindergarten classroom. Back then, this kid didn’t have the blonde hair or piercings he had now. What he did look like was any other teenager that would listen to his parents and go to church. He was the model good boy. 

The model good boy whose virginity you took when you were 18 years old after a very public breakup with your ex at someone’s graduation party.

“What are you doing in my car?” Chan interrogated the second you let the door shut behind you.

You really had no plan then, all you knew was you wanted to evacuate the party immediately the moment things ended with Gyu. He had to be irrational and so utterly infuriating that you couldn’t stand to look at his face anymore. So, you just entered the nearest vehicle, forgetting the fact you never called an Uber or Lyft.

You weren’t ready to face the music yet, so a change of subject was in order. “What are you doing leaving early?”

“I asked you first.”

You crossed your arms obnoxiously, “And if I don’t want to answer?” In a second, you regret that, seeing the genuine concern on his face. You dropped your arms to the side. “I don’t wanna be around people right now.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “I’m people. Do I not count?”

“You’re a little too…perfectionist to be a regular person. Now, why are you leaving early?”

He simply shrugged. “Curfew.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly scoffing.“Of course, you have a curfew.”

You both sat in complete silence. You should’ve questioned why you were still in here, a car that didn’t belong to you with its owner, a magnet for college recommendation letters and scholarships rather than people with a potential romantic connection. But no, you just stayed there, wallowing in your internal conflicts of average day teenager, thinking about a tomorrow that you wouldn’t even remember two or three years from now.

“Wanna talk about it?” Chan initiated, breaking the silence.

You exaggerated a sigh like the theater kid you were, forearm to the forehead. “No.”

“Wanna hook up?”

You sat up from the seat to stare back at him stunned. It was a shock that such an idea would come out of his mouth even as a joke, yet temptation lingered in your body, making you clench your thighs as if you heard the lewdest thing to be said ever in history. Safe to say, it didn’t get much rile up a person on the rebound.

Before he could jump in and say the automated pathetic phrase, “Just kidding,” followed by an awkward chuckle, you’ve already thrown yourself against him from the passenger seat. You moved against him expertly as one in a high school long relationship could, tightening the crotch of his pants as he could think of anything but what he actually put in his commended college essay about his experience with—fuck what was it about?

He pulled himself away the moment he felt tongue, restraining himself to the car window for dear life. “W-what was that for?”

“You propositioned me first.” You smiled, breathless. You drew closer to him, trying to retrieve the distance–or lack thereof–you had with Chan seconds before where you could practically taste the innocence on his lips. “I want to go through with it.”

His eyes shot open like Wile E. Coyote. “W-what? Here?”

“Yes, here, Chan.”

“W-why?” he stuttered, which he did a lot of. Perhaps, he should look into that.

You mustered a sultry expression, narrowing your eyes at him which helps you notice his dilated eyes that quivered in both fear and arousal. “Because maybe all this time…I’ve wanted you. It’s always been you.”

“R-really?”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, no. But just tonight I can.”

“Does this have to do with why you left early?”

“Do you always talk this much before you fuck someone?”

“No—uh, I don’t know, I—“

You pulled back in realization. “Oh my god, you’re a virgin.”

“Shut up!” he said, typing to cover your mouth to prevent you from exposing him, which you successfully avoid.

“You had a girlfriend all throughout junior year!”

“No, I didn't. She was my secretary. I was the student body president.”

“But she kept giving you eyes.”

He squinted. “What eyes?”

“Nevermind. What matters is do you want to go through with this?”

“Having sex in my car?” He clarified, somehow doubtful.

“Yes, nerd.”

“Is the insulting really necessary?” He winced, you notice playfully.

“It’s my kink,” you dryly jestered.

You’re about to tackle him again when he pulled back one last time.“W-wait, what about condoms?”

“I’m clean,” you shrugged, “don't worry about it.”

“What about, you know?”

You scoffed. “Please, I've been taking birth control before you even started puberty. You can cum in me, Chan.”

His cheeks then turned a vibrant hue of scarlet, spreading from his cheeks to his ears. “I-in you?”

“Yes, Chan.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap, hand ruffling through his hair, which was quite soft despite the product. “You can cum all you want in me.” You kissed the top of his nose as your body brushed up against something big and firm. “And by the rock in your pants, you’re not against it.”

“There actually is a rock in my pants.” Chan struggled to get the geode gift given to him by his teacher at the diploma ceremony and he casually tossed it in the cupholder, chuckling nervously.

You fingered over this cheek, noticing the smooth, almost flawless skin adorned by a few moles, particularly one on the left side of his face beneath his eye was devastatingly cute, “Obviously, that’s not the rock I was talking about.”

You leaned into him, your cherry zero coke breath fanning his cheeks, and he can feel the curves of your body fit into his hollows. He stifles a breath before you kiss him again, your tongue brushing against his bottom to regain access. Naturally (as natural for Chan anyway), his hands came up your sides as he familiarized himself with your lips. You lightly moaned, digging your hips at him, before hearing a moan back that sent chills up your spine and pebbled your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so cute, Chan.”

“Y/n…” he whined unbelievably soft and malleable.

You threaded through his soft, dark hair, lightly down his scalp. 

You remember making out with him for a serial amount of time before he ‘accidentally’ (you’re still not sure to this day) lowered his seat position until he was nearly flat on his back. He uttered a soft apology before you were on him again. Clothes were tossed to the back seats and you see the bit of definition he developed from being co-captain on the dance team. You bathed in the heat of his skin as you unbuttoned his khakis, and revealed his untouched glory.

You reveled in being the first of the kind, somehow excited that you were the one to enjoy this side of Chan first, kissing him in unbridled, visceral lust. You lathered him in your wet, raw arousal, feeling the twitch of his cock against your slit as he’s groaning your name. You teased his voice, cooing praises at him for being so big and good for you until you let him take residence. 

You could feel him push through your walls, levying his sizing and stretching until your warmth. It does more than distract you, it satisfies you. You swear you hear a hiss of his voice, followed by, “fuck, that’s good,” before you bounce against his cock. You hope that the car can muffle noise because all you could repeat were your anguished moans and his name, the name that sounded like pure music to the young man’s ears.

You took his unoccupied hands, resting each on either breast while riding his firm, strong thighs. His jaw dropped. The sensation of your plush walls around his girth and the pillowy texture of your tits between his fingers made his hips buckle.

“That good?” You asked softly, to which he nodded. His eyes glaze over back at you, difficulty keeping them wide open and he finds the courage to twist your nipples between his fingers, your stomach churning whimpers escaping you the moment he does. “C-Chan…”

“Sorry, did that hurt?”

You shook your head, “No,” and folded into him, your chest immediately hitting his line of vision. “Touch me more…”

He does as you asked, staring back at you like a deer lost in wonder, and like that, everything after comes second nature. The warmth of his mouth takes over your naked breast, drawing circles against your textured skin with his tongue and he moves more freely against your body. It was fluid the way he moved like his virgin status was and is all it was, a status, not showcasing any of his skill. You fed off of him, his energy, his body, his want. He didn’t even know what he was doing. He was just a natural.

“C-can I fuck you?”

“Fuck me?”

His lips quivered, face flushed red and misted in sweat, “Yes, can I fuck you against the seats?”

You slowly nodded before readjusting in the seats. Chan, still inside you, found his natural pace, letting his cock hit you with enough power and depth that it made your legs freeze and bent in the air as a response, “Mmh, Chan…”

“Is that—ump—good?”

“Yes, but faster, don’t be scared to break me.”

He isn’t sure what you mean by that but he tries. His thrusts become his own, disciplined and sharp, enveloping himself in your fluttering walls that clench harder around him the faster he went. Your hands gripped his upper body, lips latching on his to dampen the sound of your voice. Your body pressed to the tautness of his, pushing him deeper inside and you felt it mere seconds away. An orgasm. An actual orgasm.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me, Chan!” You were blistering the heat of your climax, you writhe underneath him and clutched against him by the back of your knees.

He’s eternally grateful because he was seconds away from cumming himself. He let your hips falter, coming down from the high before letting his hips take over. Drowning you in his grunts, he fucked you until he climaxed, his final thrusts painting your insides in ivory honey and making you feel whole. He panted against you, a tired smile on his face as he held his cum in you with mere his cock. Finally, he rests.

“Congratulations,” you said, laughing.

He scoffed lightly, “Thanks.”

It stayed like that for a few minutes, cock wet and warm in you, finding peace in the gentle chaos. He pushed himself from on top of you and looked down on your sweaty, exhausted form. His lips crashed against yours, and you sense his gratitude as he backed off. “Really. Thank you.”

You smiled lightheartedly, “Shut up and get me some wipes, please. I know you have them.”

He let out a little giggle before retrieving the assumed wipes from the glove compartment, helping you get clean. It wasn’t a thorough job but it did what it could. “Want me to take you home?”

“Might as well as payment,” you joked again, thinking it will get rid of this tension that still lingered. 

The ride went on in silence beside the radio’s pop music, consumed in your thoughts. It’s funny, you were used to being the type to always have to say something in any conversation, but with Chan right now, you had nothing, forcing the quiet until you arrived home. He parked his car, letting you know personally he arrived where the GPS said and you look off at one another, noting how his hair was still messy from an earlier event and you can’t help but fix it.

“Don’t want you caught,” You chuckled, moving your hands through until it was in proper Chan form. “There.”

“Hold on.”

His hand reached over your face. Thinking it was for another liplock, you stayed seated, prepared for the cushion of his lips as you pursed yours. Instead, he’s wiping away whatever it was from the corner of your lips, staring back at you with the sparkle in his eyes. “You got something there.”

“Um, Chan…I’m not wearing anything on my lips.”

“I-I knew that—,” You crushed your lips against him one last time, the salty-sweet taste of want from your tongue lingered on his, and you exit the car to never see him again. Or so you thought.

Was it the best sex you ever had up until now? No, definitely not. Was it good sex? Yes, way better than you anticipated. Then again you were comparing it to your ex, and at that point, anyone’s dick was the next coming of Jesus the more you think about it. 

“God, Chan grew up so hot,” Minnie gushed.

“I’ll say,” you agreed in reflex, “I mean, he sure looks different.”

“Different? They’re like two separate people,” She said, biting her lip, “Is it weird I wanna call him over again?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes at your answer before flipping through the pages while you were still processing this information. You’ve had time to forget it happened and have had plenty of sex after then, but Chan will always be a little special. And you’d be lying if you weren’t the tiniest curious about how he turned out after all this time. It was hard to believe he's who he is now.

Since then and after some light stalking, you found out the college he attended was a neighboring one. He took part in a popular frat (gamma, omega, theta, whatever) that, surprise surprise, hosted some of the biggest parties that even students from your university attended. He just so happens to be one of the members actively posted on the site surrounded by hot people with his gorgeous blonde lip piercing ass. Goddamn, it.

Okay, that’s it. You can stop right there. No need to dig any deeper. Besides, he’s just some guy you hooked up with once (a great once for his first time), just once. That’s it. There’s no need for you to go all yourself like you used to do for your exes. This was just Lee Chan.

“Hi there, you’re Minnie’s roommate.” You found Lee Chan grinning back at you with a stack of fliers in his hands as you walked the neighboring streets that you conveniently heard he’d be around. Social media is a curse. “We have a charity event where all proceeds will be going to feed the starving homeless at a couple of shelters down in the area.”

You accepted the flier and tucked it under your pit as you crossed your arms in a questioning manner. “When were you going to let me know?”

“Ah,” his smile stretched wider as his hand slapped against the stack before clutching it to his chest, “took you long enough.”

“So what, you were just gonna wait until I realized it myself?”

“That was the idea, but I knew you were smart. You’d figure it out—charity event, we’ll keep you company,” he handed off the flyer to a pair of girls with an effortless wink before they’re scurrying off blushing a squealing.

“Isn’t this something the pledges do, what are you even doing out here?”

He stands beside you, a devious smile tattooed on his face, “I’m one of the people that manage social media. I pay attention to our activity feed and couldn’t help but see a like pop up and disappear in front of my very eyes.”

Your cheeks heat up, caught red-handed, “So you knew I’d be here and came out anyways.”

“Figured you wanted to talk,” he said, keeping his hands busy and eyes wide and charming.

“Why? Thinking about me?”

“You’re not someone that I could just stop thinking about, Y/n.”

Your name in his voice burned your ears, making you flick it away as if it were a bug. “Well, just came here because I remembered something I saw. That’s all. Go about your day.”

You’re about to storm off when he’s calling for you again and you shamelessly look back. His eyes turned up the way his smile does, sauntering over as he locked you in his trance. You were almost hypnotized by the sterling steel that looked so pullable you had to physically restrain yourself with pinches to your forearms. “You’re coming to the party.”

“Says who?”

He has this permanent playful expression, one that doesn’t recall down days or cram studying. He looked entirely carefree. So unlike the Chan from high school. “Says me. Plenty of booze, plenty of champagne, plenty of food, plenty of me to go around.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Kidding,” He laughed. “But don’t you think it’s rather serendipitous that we found each other again? After so many years?”

You squinted at him. “Yeah, sleeping with my roommate.”

“It’s like I somehow found my way back to you.”

“You have a hickey on your neck.”

His eyes shoot open, and a hand came over his neck, “Road bumps exist to get to our destination.”

“I lied, there was nothing there,” you said, not falling for his whimsy, ready to walk off again.

He chased after you, trying to lure you back with that smile he somehow found out you can get enough of. “Not fair, but fine. But don’t try to convince me you aren’t happy to see me. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“I…I don’t know why I came here. I didn’t know what I was expecting.”

He gave you a befuddled look. “What do you mean? It’s me. Chan. I thought maybe you’d be at least a little excited to see me.”

The Lee Chan you knew was so different from now, blonder, spunkier, riskier for the faint of heart. Your fair trade of relationships was a healthy amount, enough to know what you wanted and somehow it all lead back to Chan three years ago. Like it meant something to be joined in something intimate with him. Your eighteen yourself would be laughing at you right now at the thought of you yearning for Lee Chan of all people. Not that anything was wrong with him, just that Chan was Chan and you were you. And now Chan is Chan and you were, well, same old you.

“You…I’m not used to this.”

His brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You could read the offense as soon as it arrived, immediately coming to defend yourself. “I was excited to see you.”

“Well, I’m here. What’s the problem?” If you knew any better, he looked hurt.

“You’re like a whole other person. I don’t know this Chan.”

“Then get to know me. No offense, but you barely even knew that Chan.”

“I—,” he wasn’t wrong. You hardly spoke as classmates. Hell, the sex was the longest conversation you’ve ever had. Before that was him asking for directions to where the auditorium was since it was a part of campus he never visited, but you weren’t ignorant to him. You always noticed Chan. Just never in that light until the last minute. Yet, you missed that Chan. Not like you had any right to. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why do you already think that lowly of me? You think we can’t be in the same town breathing the same air as each other?”

“Chan, of course not.”

“I get it. Stranger dangers and all that shit right? But we’re a little more than strangers, aren’t we?”

For some reason, you couldn’t answer and instead stared down at your feet. He let out a frustrated sigh, in disbelief the carefree person he knew several years ago was this same person in front of him. “Is there a problem you have with me?”

Because he looks like a fuckboy and you avoid fuckboys like the plague now. Remember?

“I don’t know,” you crossed your arms.

He took a step forward, taking the flier folded against your arm and smoothing out the wrinkles before he placed it in your hand. “Well, it’s just a party. So come. See me, ignore me, drink your heart out. Whatever, but come.”

He gave you one last bittersweet smile before deciding to walk off, following his frat brother who was already far ahead of him.

There was a tug of war between your mind and body, fighting the internal conflicts that make you hesitant to reconnect with Chan again. There’s no doubt a piece of you still hoped for the old Chan that lingered in your mind throughout all these years and the imminent lure of new Chan who was just the embodiment of every red flag you’ve ever seen in your past relationships.

Saying going to this party is a mistake would be an understatement.

“Oh my gosh, it looks so pretty here!”

You came arm in arm with Minnie, admiring the aesthetic light fixtures on the walls, while wearing the nicest garb you could conjure up from your closet. It was a navy blue dress in crushed velvet that hits you right at your ankles that could only be paired with a light pair of heels for the night to go on a little easier. You mused around at the decorations, impressed with the craftsmanship, surprised this was an event planned by college bros obsessed with Greek life. “It does look nice here.”

One block heel over the other, you were subconsciously scanning for a bright blonde head in sight. Instead, you were surrounded by several familiar faces of his members in suits and ties, remembering seeing them all over the Fraternity’s Instagram. They greeted you as hosts do and two of them took you and Minnie to unoccupied seats. The person that guided you to your seat, Seokmin, offered you a refreshment, while Soonyoung, Minnie’s guide, did the same for her. Once they had disappeared for a few minutes, Minnie could do nothing but gush over their looks.

“They’re so cute! Oh, do you think they’d wanna double date us?” Minnie asked with her eyes cheery and bright.

You looked back at the pamphlet and the itinerary, pointing at something peculiar. “Maybe, if we win the date auction with them.”

“Boo, I’m broke,” she pouted, “I’ll just have to charm myself the way I always do.”

You chuckled at her delight before the boys returned and chatted you up for the time being. You remained mostly cordial while Minnie brought in the charm she’s so famous for and amidst the jokes and lighthearted pandering, the awaited blonde is seen entering, greeting other guests that have made their arrival.

Your chest felt light, letting out a sigh of relief as though Lee Chan’s appearance made the event all the more tolerable, and maybe it had. However, it’s tightened as soon as you realize how incredibly his body fits the cream-colored suit, reminding you of white chocolate. Decadent and unique on your tongue, echos of his moans so familiar infiltrate the busiest part of your brain, blocking out background noises and images other than Lee Chan.

“All good, Y/n?” Seokmin so politely asked.

In a broken trance, you turned to them and nodded, seeing Minnie doubtful of your answer. You started getting from your chair, apologizing. “I’m fine. I think I saw my friend? You guys keep chatting. I’ll be back.”

You escorted yourself, smoothing the wrinkles of your dress before approaching him out of his view. He doesn’t suspect the anxious figure walking up to him, attention focused on other company while giving them that dazzling toothpaste smile on his face. As you tapped on his shoulder, he turned to you, melting into a soft, long gaze once he drank in your appearance. He politely excused himself from his previous company and offered you his elbow. Pleasantly surprised, you took it with stride, interlocking through, and quietly followed him somewhere a bit more private (as private as it can be in a semi-public event). “You look ravishing,” He whispered only loud enough for you to hear. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled flushed, arm wrapping tighter around him, “You look really put together like this.”

“‘Put together?’ Way to damper a guy’s confidence,” he laughed, feigning offense.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“It’d be nice to hear it too.”

You exhaled, “You look really…handsome, Chan.”

A peaceful smile grazed his face. “Better. So, did you take a look at the itinerary?”

You nodded, twiddling your fingers before conjuring up the courage to ask, “Are you going to be in that auction?”

“Straight to it,” he chuckled melodiously, “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing like that, just curious.”

He shrugged. “Well, I will be one of the dates for the auction. Get your wallet ready.”

You lightly nudged him, chuckling, “You wish.”

“I do wish.” His lips neared your ear. “Maybe you winning is my end goal.”

Feeling the heat radiate off your cheeks, you shove him off of you away from innocent bystanders. “You’re so funny.”

“It’s my best asset,” he said, joining your arms back again. “Winner gets a weekend date of their choice with a budget of $75. Tempting, isn’t it?”

“You would be one to think so.”

“I’d make our date worthwhile.”

His dark temptation sent chills down your spine and you punched his arm, hard. “Stop it.”

“Stop what,” he teased, rubbing his likely bruised arm.

“Being this.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Why are you bothered by me? Be honest.”

You sighed, loosening the grip on his arm. “You were right and I don’t know you. I never really did. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you. It’s just strange to see someone I saw one way again after a few years and you’re completely different.”

“You don’t like the way I look?”

You shook your head. “No. In fact the opposite, I like it so because it reminds me of so many of the people I’ve been with, but I don’t want you to be any of them. I want you to be Chan.”

“I am Chan,” He said, taking you aside and holding your hand in his. “Just because I look a certain way doesn’t make me any less me. But I’m flattered you think so much about me.”

“What do you even get out of this?” You changed the subject. “Inviting me to places, talking sweet, and being nice to me.”

He shrugged his shoulders, an unsure smile on his face. “Okay, so maybe, I felt something when I saw you again.”

“Just like you felt something when you saw Minnie?” You snapped.

“...That’s not what this is,” he answered seriously.

“What is it then?”

He gave you a grim expression. “I’m not sure either.”

“Be honest, Chan. How often is it that you go on dates, or hook up with someone like you did with Minnie?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Because it is. How would I be any different than that? What makes me different from everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like anyone else.” He answered definitely.

Before you could ask him what he meant, Chan is pulled away by the other members of his frat to get him prepared for the auction coming up soon. He graced you with a bitter smile before disappearing behind doors where you’re forced to rejoin Minnie and the boys you left behind. They asked if you were alright, to which you less than sublimely answered, but they didn’t push it.

You tried being good company the rest of the night, making small jokes, greeting new people, and taking advantage of the catering that is surprisingly better than you expected. Yet, Chan was still running rampant in your mind. The auction was seconds away from starting and he would be there on that stage just like everyone else, devastatingly handsome and charming that you could melt in a puddle. You somehow come with several glasses of champagne that night to the point Minnie issued you an end to it by force-feeding you water to sober up. It doesn’t work that well.

The stage lights turned on and music loudly played in the background. A man in a suit different from the rest began introducing potential suitors available for auction, including the friendly members you’ve come to know this evening, who waved back at your table when they got on stage. It goes for a few hours so far and the Greek house has accumulated several thousands of dollars in funds. Meanwhile, your sobriety was gradually replenishing over time until the announcement of the next auction date would step on stage.

“Up next we have is Lee Chan, respected brother and life of the party!”

The blonde stepped on stage with fierce charisma, smiling and waving like it was his own red carpet, even striking a few poses for good measure. The emcee goes on about qualities you already knew and some you didn’t as the slideshow is off in the background like it was for all of the previous dates on stage. That’s when the show really began for you. Photographs of Chan playing basketball, obviously playing for team skins, as his hair bundled up in a sweaty, sexy mess. They were the kind of pictures people used for body fitness inspiration or just plain inspiration because what better motivation could one have other than the bare torso of Lee Chan. 

Cheers of encouragement cause a deep blush to appear on his gorgeous face, and you swear you saw him tug anxiously at his lip ring in the most delectable way. You stifled a breath, heart pitter-pattering like rain in a violent storm. “Holy—“

“Shit,” Minnie breathed out, “Go, Chan.”

You suddenly remembered who and where you were, wiping away your drool before it was visible.

“Let’s start out the bidding at $50.”

“$100!”

“$150!”

“$250!”

“Woah, woah, looks like we already got a couple of takers. Are we hearing a $255?”

The longer that went on the more severe the anxiety was bubbling up inside you. The numbers only got higher and higher, louder and louder, taunting your inhibitions. Before you knew it, you’re jumping up from your seat in a clearly unsober but confident state screaming, “One thousand dollars” from the top of your lungs. Chan looked in your direction, shocked, eyes wide as doe while his lips started parting in a small smile, a reasonable surprise considering the mixed signals you were giving.

You weren’t sure what you were doing since there was no way you had that kind of money, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The higher the bid, the higher the influence. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You were falling under a similar spell they were all under. You had to do everything you could to—

“Two thousand dollars.”

Your gaze swung in the voice's direction to a gorgeous girl standing a few feet from you, beaming with confidence. You slumped down in your shame while the emcee congratulated the highest bidder and shy Chan for reeling in the highest amount of money so far tonight. 

The hours after just drone on, just as much as champagne did and there you were pathetic and sad to have lost. Minnie doesn’t know how you keep finding refreshments for yourself, she blames the eyes candies willfully distracting her. “Okay, seriously stop. I will ban you from alcohol for life.” Minnie carried you off outside, hugging you to her as she went to listen to your unnecessary babble.

“He was mine…”

“I know, sweetie, but she was paying a month and a half’s rent. No way we could’ve paid for that.” Your whines muffled in her shoulder, mumbling something about “fuck the rich” before you started to cry. Even Minnie found it embarrassing.

“Want me to take over?”

Chan is the first person you laid your eyes on coming up from the surface of your drunk childish tantrum, making you wipe the tears away from your eyes in a hurry. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” he said lethally soft.

“Hi!” Smiling at you both before getting up from her seat. “Usually, I wouldn’t approve of letting my girl alone with a frat boy while intoxicated but I have her location on and I know where you live. So, take good care of her or I’ll kill you.”

He gave her a gregarious nod before waving. “Bye, Minnie.”

“Bye, Chan. No more drinks, Y/n.”

She left you to Chan, following after Soonyoung and Seokmin who were surprisingly waiting for her by the door. Good for her, you thought.

“That was stupid of you,” He said sitting next to you.

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you even have $1000?”

Pouting, you shook your head. “No, but I wanted to win.”

“You wanted to win me?” He said smiling.

“Yes, isn’t it that obvious?” Your head fell against his broad welcoming shoulder. You let out a long low breath at that, clutched the breast of your dress as you tried your damnedest to breathe. You were aware of your heart rate, pounding away at your chest like a drum. Your weight pushed against him but made no change to his posture. He was like a boulder that chipped away at your weakness and made you ache for his fullness no matter how much your head told you otherwise. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?”

“Be…this. And make me crazy about you.”

His head turned down to see your face, warm brown eyes staring back into yours. “I could say the same about you. You have sex with me once years ago, give all the time in the world to recreate a feeling like it, just to chase me back when I think I’m finally forgetting about you? Diabolical of you.”

You thought you’ve heard it all before. Usually, sweet nothings go to one ear and out the other. Many of those sugar-coated words and phrases have blended into something homogenous, overplayed tactics that got you into loveless relationships fueled by sex and desire. Who knows if Chan is different, but the words he speaks, and the burning he gives you, you wanted every little bit of it. You grasped his lapel, pushing your face closer. “You thought about me?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire t–”

Your patience soon wore thin. His lips tasted sweet like nectar, felt soft as pillows, warm as the summer. The heat of his skin was in stark contrast to the cool steel of his lip ring expectedly grazing your skin, churning whatever it was in your stomach. You attempted to gain leverage control, thirsting more, but you learned soon his muscles weren’t just for show. “You’re drunk, Y/n.”

“But you taste so good…”

He took a deep breath before sighing. “Let’s just get you someplace to rest up and I can take you home after.”

Chan made good on his promise. As your body was giving in to sleep, your knight in blonde carried you off on his back to the nearest place of rest, which ended up being his bedroom that he luckily didn’t have to share. He laid you sprawled out on his thinly veiled mattress, tucking you underneath his blanket until he couldn’t see any inch of skin except your head up, and he let your soft airy snores play out.

He made his shower quick to return to you, relieving himself of the heavy suit he’s been wearing all night. He gets back to his room and placed the suit in the bag back into his closet. You’re still sound asleep as soon as he’s back but now stir in your sleep, staring to thrash around even. That made him come to your side in a hurry, trying to calm you down. He puts his hands on your body through the covers, soothing you to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, that is what makes you start to gain consciousness, pushing yourself to sit up from the bed. “Where am I?” 

“You’re awake, shit, sorry.”

“Chan?” You blinked back at him with tired eyes, barely focusing through the small slits of your vision to make out the man tending to your drowsy state.

“Yeah, you were really out of it? I had to make sure you were okay.”

“Shirtless?”

Chan looked down at his body to realize what you meant. He only came to the bathroom with a single pair of sweatpants with him fully intending to just throw a shirt on the moment he got back to the room. Now he was deeply regretting the decision seeing how awake you are. Grim at the thought of you perceiving him as some typical perverted college guy, which he was if not a little more respectful than most. “Sorry. I’ll put something on.”

You tugged him back by his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” He repeated, heart starting to take race in his chest.

You shook your head definitely. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

You shifted on the bed, realizing how you were still in your dress, subconsciously shrugging off the flimsy straps. Your hand traveled from his wrist and up his forearm. The hairs of his arms stood up at your touch and he sucked in shallow breaths as your hand smoothed over to the back of his neck effortlessly. Your finger threaded through his hair. There’s a look in your eyes, unlike the others you’ve shown so far since he’s reunited with you. They only come close with the gaze he say several years ago when you defiled his 18th birthday gift at a random peer’s graduation. “Lee Chan.”

He doesn’t want to fall for it, but damn it, did he want to be an idiot and just fall, fall hard. “You’re still drunk, maybe–”

“My Lee Chan…” God, did his heart throb.

“You’re definitely drunk.”

Your hand moved over to cup cheek, feeling how he instinctively nestled in your palm. His gaze softened back at you in this familiar way it did once back in the first time and both of you can’t help but call back to that night again. It’s like you’re right where you started, seconds away before melting into one another like hormonal teenagers.

“What are you doing to me now?” He asked so softly you almost didn't make it out.

If his body wasn’t already so goddamn enticing, it was the expression on his face. You could etch out the writhing on his face when you rode his body the first time, remembering how his strong thighs buckled at your touch, burning under the heat of your thighs. Your abdomen was physically contracting thinking about it.

“Kiss me, Chan.”

He doesn’t have the will to resist you any longer and he took the opportunity, crashing his lips into yours. You embraced his naked torso, clinging on to him and tugging against his piercing before pulling him towards you in bed with a thud. You didn’t know what true love felt like but it felt as half as good as Lee Chan, you’d risk your heart over and over again just to have it in your arms.

“Take it off for me,” you whispered once his hand landed on the zipper of your dress. The common plastic rubbed over your spine, and the sound of it traveling down pooled bountiful amounts of arousal in your core. You moaned against his lips helplessly, digging your nails through his scalp. 

His sweatpants did no good in hiding his aroused state as it poked back at your thigh coming out of the slit of your dress, groan at the pain you cause him but was pleased nonetheless. His hands come up your shoulder confidently, sliding down the rest of the material as it slid off the bed and hit the ground. Your knee came up behind him, pressing him down to reunite your curves and hollows as he moved to nip the skin at your clavicle, murmurs from lips occasionally leaving his lips.

“What was that?” you asked, already intoxicated in something other than alcohol for once tonight.

“I said, ‘I’ve been wanting to fuck you the moment I saw you again.’”

His voice exhibited a gravelly rasp, one you wouldn’t have expected knowing him, but fuck, if it didn’t make your pussy full-out throb. “Yeah,” you egged on, “You wanted to see if you still fit your cock in me?”

He gave out a low growl. “I forgot how annoying you were.”

“I guess not too annoying to fuck me full in the front seat of your Camry.”

“I miss that thing. Too many good memories.” His sigh fanned over the back of your neck before his lips sucked against the skin under your ear, causing you to crumble underneath him. “But it’s fine, I can make new memories. And I won’t be worried about breaking you this time.”

His hips dipped down in yours, teasing his bulge at your wet, clothed core before you’re thrusting back in whines. Your hand roamed through his blond locks, gripping like you were doing into your insanity, if only there were just as surprisingly healthy and strong. “Fuck me already. I want you to stuff me with your cock just like the last time.”

He shook his head, that smile of his filling your insides with need and desperation. “Thought I’d catch you up on a bit on how I’ve improved first.”

He trailed kisses down your body, hands caressing over your breast before your sides. You tremble as the pads of his fingers grazed the edges of your panties, pulling them down and off of your body leaving you nothing but nude. Your glistening arousal stared back at him like a limitless fountain of youth, inclination bubbling up inside of him. The back of his hand rubbed against the moisture of your folds, seeing you thoroughly coat him as he wrapped his lips against your thighs, moans ebbing from his lips and yours.

“Your pretty pussy is so wet for me. Just like I remember.” Your clit was squeezed between his fingers, swelling up so enticingly he just had to suck against it. You clenched your abdomen, calling out for him, “fucking hell,” and then his tongue was inside you as though it was digging for gold, “holy shit.”

The sounds he made were simply carnal, like he hadn’t been feeding for months and until now you could help but eat every second up as he devoured you entirely. Your toe curled, your breath stolen from, and your cunt flooded until you could overflow a dam. “I could eat your pussy all night, baby girl…if I knew you tasted this good…would’ve been the first thing I’d done to you.” His thumb presses on your clit, flicking it from side to side, and the stripes he ran up your slit become ravenous, monstrous, torturous.

“You’re gonna make me cum, please…”

“Already,” he teased, kissing your entrance, “I’ve barely started. Or are you saying because you’re such a slut for my cock?”

You winced as he pinched your clit, holding back tears. “No, no. I’m really about to—ah—cum…”

“Guess I should savor it when it arrives, shouldn't I?”

He ate you out until you’re practically screaming, the creak of the bed would be normally something that’d bother you, but his tongue is so tantalizing you don’t even notice. Meanwhile, his hands have taken over your breasts, squeezing them so possessively in each hand you feel like you’re truly his, and none otherwise.

“Such a pretty little mess…cum on my tongue, baby girl…I need you cumming in my mouth…” His pleas sounded dirty, desperate, devastating. Your whines cried out as you begged for more, pushing his face deeper into you, feeling the burn of your cheeks. “Shut…up—fuck!”

You involuntarily came in him as he wished. Painting the inside of his mouth with your milky climax, he laughed contently in your heat as he pulled away. Your cum stretched from your sopping pussy to his lips, forcing you to watch as he licked up the mess, starting with the collection from his cheeks. “Such a good slut for me,” he wiped the cum from the underside of his chin, putting his fingers between his mouth while groaning. “I needed this so bad with the week I’ve had.” 

He wounded himself tight around his digits, letting go with a ‘pop. “Especially with how confused and horny you make me…I’m gonna fuck your stupid cunt until you’re sure you want me just as much as I want you.”

He reached over his bedside to rip open a condom and rolled it on himself, giving you the glimpse you needed to be reminded of how big and delectable just Chan’s cock was. There he then held your legs until they folded against you, spreading you wide and perfect for him to fuck into. Plunging through your cum lubricated walls, he entered you with ease, the familiar sensation of your fluttering grip took him back to his youth. “Shit, that’s good.”

You suppress a moan, to which he scolded you by squeezing your cheeks, gripping your face harshly in his direction, and what he said next was enough to make you want to cum right there on the spot. “Don’t do that. I want you to be loud. I want everyone in this house to hear you while I fuck you senseless to the point you forget your name.”

Whoever dare says Lee Chan is a liar is the real liar because he knows how to keep a promise.

His body, heavy and strong, pressed you unto the mattress mercilessly, pounding out the cheap strings that were bound to break. Your screams of his name bounced off the thin walls, taking every stroke of his cock until you were mistaken for bloody murder. It wasn’t what you expected, and yet you couldn’t be happier to be wrong. Your head threw back at the claim of his hands on your hips, now pulling at you to manually use you for his bidding, only to bottom out in you repeatedly. “Fuck Chan…please…”

After having been told to let your vocal cords loose, you took it personally and screamed his name from the rooftops, which you might as well have done with how obnoxiously boisterous you were taking every gorgeous inch. 

“Good slut,” He flipped you on your stomach, only to rut into you deep. His hand caressed your back, “I’m a bit possessive if you can’t tell. Usually, I wouldn’t care if anyone heard, but with you, I can’t help but do care. I want everyone to know who it is you’re fucking. Who it is ruining you like this.”

“Shit, that’s so hot…” you whine, your ass cheeks burning in the rage of his hips.

“Say it for me then. Say how you like me inside you. Say how you like how I’m fucking you stupid.”

You choked on your words as he pushed in you without abandon, riling himself up at the anticipation of your words. “I love you inside me…I love how you fuck me so stupid, Chan…”

He pulled you up by your arm, his hands clenched your breasts, fondling them on his palms and pinching your pretty erect nipples as his sweaty, toned chest pressed against your back. “You listen to me so fucking well,” he landed a strike on your breast, causing you to moan in response, “I wish I could’ve been fucking you like this all the time. No one was ever like you.”

Your back arched into him, convulsing as you felt the stream of your climax rise up the surface again, controlling you much the way Chan did. As if Chan could read your mind, his lips pressed against your ear tenderly, fingers coming at your swollen clit to rub it pain-achingly perfect. “Do it, cum all over my cock, baby…I want–need you to cum so hard on my cock.”

Even when you cum another time, Chan’s stamina doesn’t cease and he’s asking for another. “Just one more” he pleaded. And he’s fucking you over and over again, until you’re in his lap, grinding on his hips with cock stuffed back inside you as his legs lifted up in repetitive thrusts to rearrange your insides. His tongue roamed in your mouth without abandon, lip ring still brushing against your kiss-swollen lips as he’s whimpering how good you clench around him or perfectly you whine for him in that mouthwatering infliction. “Your pussy’s so damn perfect. Shit, I’ll—fuck, oh god.”

Your pungent honey releases once more, while Chan, unfortunately, poured him into his into the rubber, having you silently mourn the waste. He clenched you against him, your twitch so tantalizing, he had to feel every spasm, kissing you sweetly until you were soothed into stability. He whispered praise of your beauty, your body, your efforts. Bad memories of others washed away with his presence, only allowing his acts of worshiping every inch of you.

“I’m happy I came tonight.”

Chan chuckled, thinking about the unintended innuendo, as he pressed your body nestled into his closer, “Me too. Next time we can do it again, maybe without the condom next time.”

“Not without testing I hope,” You said after hearing him giggle at the thought. Then his words are repeating in your head, ‘Next time.’ You weren’t about to make the same mistake you’re used to and because it was Chan, you were confident with him it’d be different. You held his fingers in yours, lacing them through before pressing them to your lips, “Next time as in the next time we fuck or the next time we’re together?”

He softly smiled. “Looks like someone has a crush.”

“Ugh, fuck you.”

You let go of his hands, initiating his boisterous laughter and euphoria-inducing smile as he spooned your bare backside. “Next time we’re together. After I take you on a proper date that is.”

“What about your auction date?”

He sighed, suddenly remembering that. “It’s unavoidable, unfortunately, but I’ll promise to come to see you right after and show you what things I rather do to you than anyone else.”

“That a promise?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

You turned around to face him again and pressed your hands against his soft and supple cheeks, kissing his lips long and languidly. “You’re so cute.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, pulling you by the waist, “I thought the blonde and piercing would change that.”

“You’ll never not be cute. Everything cute about you I’ll l-adore.”

“You were going to say something else.”

“I wasn’t.” You denied.

“Oh my god,” he gripped tighter around, enough to almost suffocate you, “you love me.”

You flailed in his grip. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, you so love me,” He sang.

“Shut up, I don’t,” You rolled your eyes, “but I do end up loving someone, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was with you first.”

“Is that a promise to one day love me? To have and to hold?” He teases, secretly hopefully.

“Let’s say it’s wishful thinking. All Lee Chans in needs love too.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, someone will make sense of it.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Need You

Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Nathan wants to go to sleep.

A/N: Guess who's being all sappy againnnn.

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, self-indulgent as HECK, swearing, Nathan being a little shit, reader being a little shit too, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 758

You hear Nathan before you see him, practically stomping down the corridor. Most of the time he was surprisingly light footed and took a perverse glee in sneaking up on you at any available opportunity. So that fact that he was being so obvious about where he was now was most certainly to send you a message. 

The message of: hurry the fuck up and come to bed. 

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips. 

As the office door opened you pretended to ignore it, not even looking up from your screen as you typed. 

Out of the corner of your vision, you could see Nathan’s outline in the doorway, his hands on his hips as he watched you, the air of unimpressed rolling off him in waves. 

You count the seconds in your head, one, two, three, four…

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grumbled, padding into the room and standing next to you. 

“Working.” 

“It’s late.”

You don’t look up from your screen. “So?” 

“So?” 

“So?”

He groans. “Fucking turn that off.” 

You school your face into a scowl, despite the fact you want to giggle, and glare at him. “I’m working, you’re always working weird hours.”

“You were working five minutes ago, you were looking at lego sets.” He crosses his arms.

“Monitoring my computer?” You smirk.

“Always.”

“It’s research.” You stress.

“No, it’s not.” 

You turn back to your computer screen, but don’t even bother to pretend to hit the keys. 

Nathan lets out a humph. 

“Why do you want me to stop looking at Lego sets?” You ask as innocently as you can, looking back up at him. 

Nathan swallows, still scowling. 

You smile, sickenly sweet as glee runs through your veins. Slowly, you move to go back to what you were doing, purposefully moving languidly to drag the seconds out.

He breaks sooner than you thought he would.

“Fine, I’ll buy you every fucking Lego set that has ever been made, hell, I’ll buy you three. One to build, one to keep and one to burn-”

“That’s a waste, Nathan.”

He ignores your interjection, but he rolls his eyes at you, “if you just turn off the computer.”

“Why?” You don’t look at him. 

He grumbles again.

“Why Nathan?” You ask in a sing-song voice. 

“Don’t make me say it.” He mutters.

“Sorry?” You cup your hand to your ear in an over the top fashion just to tease him, “I didn’t catch that?” 

He groans, flopping his hands to his sides, looking momentarily like a toddler about to throw themselves on the floor for not getting their own way. 

“I want to go to sleep.” He huffs out.

“Sorry?” You can’t help but push him.

“I want to go to sleep.” He repeats, louder and clearer, and definitely with more exasperation.

You look up at him, giving him your full and undivided attention. “So?” 

He glares at you, a storm brewing on his forehead. But instead of saying something rude or marching off, he takes a deep breath. “I would like to go to sleep with you in bed next to me,” he pauses for half a second, pushing the frown from his face before he adds, “please.”

Surprisingly the word isn’t said begrudgingly. 

He catches the small flicker of shock on your face and he kneels down next to you, battering his eyes dramatically and putting his hands on your knees. 

“Please come to bed with me?” He says in an awful baby voice. 

You burst out laughing. “Stop, don’t ever do that fucking voice again.”

“Why?” He blinks harder, continuing the voice and somehow making it worse. 

You playfully go to push his cheek softly away, but he catches your wrist in his hand lightening fast as he kisses your wrist. 

“Please?” He repeats, still babyfied. 

“Will you stop that voice if I say yes?” You giggle. 

And he nods looking up at you softly, still battering his eyes. 

You snort. “Alright. You’re so silly.”

“No?” He grins and kisses your palm.

“Yes. All you needed to do was admit you’d like me to come to bed with you.” 

“Hmm,” he snuffles closer on his knees, pushing your legs lightly apart. “Need me to tell you I need you, huh? You that pathetic?” He teases.

“Yes.” You say bluntly, smiling, knowing that’s not what he expects.

There’s a flicker of surprise for a second before a soft smile pulls at his lips. “I need you, baby,” he says silkily, knowing that’s not what you expect either.

Thank you for reading!

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[corviiids]

ive never watched h2o just add water but im australian so close enough and i desperately want to know more about death note h2o au. how does light becoming a mermaid make him able to kill people does he just like start grabbing people and drowning them. does L keep coming up with convoluted ways to reveal that light is a mermaid (i would like to know if someone attempts to push him into a pool at some point because i think thats how h2o mermaids work like you. just add water™ and they turn into a mermaid right)

(this ask is referring to my tags on this post)

#i just looked in my notes and found a death note au of that australian mermaid show h2o just add water#in this au light becomes a mermaid and immediately uses his mermaid powers to fucking kill people#and also hes australian#and becuase he's australian hes not called kira#his murders were first noticed on nobby beach (queensland) (australia)#so hes called the ghost of nobby beach#or nobbo for short#because hes australian#does anyone want or need australian mermaid murder death note au called nobbo? why did i write this#when will i finish it

thank you for your interest and everyone else who has shown interest in death nobbo. this is a post about death nobbo, my death note h2o just add water au which takes place in queensland australia

they are Australian and live on the gold coast and light is a uni student who becomes a mermaid. because he is a normal person he realises this is his opportunity to kill people. he also has a pretty, shiny tail.

L is a detective whose attention is drawn to this weird string of drownings in Queensland, Australia. he comes down to investigate.

to answer your actual question:

light drowns people by waiting for them to go surfing or swimming or whatever and then flipping their boards etc and dragging them at top speed into a rip. he holds them down or tangles them up so they can't stick their arms up for lifeguards

L thinks it's sus that all these experienced beachgoers are making mistakes like this and that nobody's managed to call a lifeguard in time. a couple of lifeguards have reported seeing a bit of a commotion where victims are drowning, but get out there too late, and it seems like all of them are physically not able to hold their arms up

here are the rest of my notes in the planning doc and some excerpts:

L doesn't enrol in UQ (is light more of a QUT bitch) but does just like, show up? maybe he gives a talk? i think light is studying law because i want to be self fucking indulgent. so maybe L (via screen) gives a lecture for criminal justice students and starts asking people what they think about the nobbo murders. someone's like so you think it's definitely murder and not just people drowning? L is like you're a beach city. drownings aren't uncommon, but this many drownings from people who are all familiar with the ocean terrain and beach safety makes it very unlikely.

(translator's note: UQ is university of queensland, QUT is queensland university of technology)

He picks light out from the audience because he's already profiled him and they have a discussion

later on L shows up physically at the cafe where light works and asks if he'd like to go swimming. while light is working on how to get out of that one, L goes, oh no, I've forgotten my beach wear. let's go play tennis instead.

lights like internal monologue there's a surf shop next door. light yagami would probably just offer to lend L a rashie or say they can go next door to pick one up. if I take this out, will he thinks I'm suspicious? does he think I'm nobbo? but I can't go swimming or he'll realise the truth.

(translator's note: 'rashie' is aussie slang for 'rash guard' or 'rash shirt' and it's swimwear that is a shirt)

while light is freaking out, L is like, actually there's a mini golf place near mermaid beach I really want to try, so let's go swimming another time. light's like well okay

so they go have a gay game of mini golf. l asks light how mermaid beach got its name and if he thinks mermaids are real. they discuss nobbo.

why did i name him nobbo

misa is light's coworker btw. at some point she also becomes a mermaid and light has to stop her rom exposing them both because she is not very careful

light entered the pool alone so got all three powers - hydrokinesis, cryohydrokinesis and thermocryokinesis

and here's. fuckin, whatever

also the only important line in this au

[witch-and-her-witcher]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going! Thank you to everyone who tagged me and have had me in their inspo sections, I adore each and every one of you!

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

518,691 (hoping to add another 3-4k to this before midnight hehe)

I CANNOT drop that number without thanking the fucking dream team who has read EVERY SINGLE PUBLISHED WORD of mine: @popjunkie42 and @climbthemountain2020. From cheerleading, to pumping the breaks when my run ons be running, I appreciate the ever-loving hell out of both of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Honorable mention betas who hold up that number: @cauldronblssd, @wilde-knight, @thesistersarcheron, and @rosanna-writer. I truly appreciate every one of you babes and your critical, brilliant eyes on my self indulgent streams of thought.

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

21! 13 of those were one shots.

If I can be real, I have two multi-chapter WIPs sitting in my docs, but it felt too irresponsible to post those once I started getting buried in grad school.

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Heading into the new year, I have 2 in progress fics: Ruin Me for the Fourth Wing fandom and Who's Gonna Know You Like Me? for ACOTAR.

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

Any of my poly fics! I really have to thank @acourtofladydeath for her beautiful brain child @polyacotarweek for getting me into the poly mind set. Although I only wrote throuples for that week (and since aside from the background Nesta/Eris/Azriel/Cassian in Who's Gonna Know You Like Me?), I am interested in writing more complex poly pairings in 2025.

I also can't leave out @yanny-77, @copperfirebird and @hockeyspiral23 for supporting the violaiden obsession! I adore writing the three of them together so so much and it's so fun to have others to share the brain rot with!

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I had never done a true canon rewrite before dripping in gold! It was so so fun taking an in text scene and making it queer as hell.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

It's undeniable that A Court of Chaos and Darkness's reception took me by surprise. From the moment I couldn't shake the concept of the fic to the over one hundred kudos it received before I took it off of anon. But even more so, the absolute comfort blanket this fic was as I wrote it was shocking. Something in the healing occurring, in the recognition of the complexity of parenting and the messiness of the parent/child relationship really struck me.

The fic @revenge??? I love you filthy azris lovers. This was an outlet for some of my dating app blunders and shenanigans and you all really said "serve."

And then there's my first omegaverse fic and the first of it's kind in the Fourth Wing ao3 tag (when it was posted, I believe there's several more now!): so what now? The Fourth Wing fandom has been warm as hell and so inviting to me, but you have all really embraced me bringing weird into the tags and I just can't thank you enough as I gape at the stats.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Either of my sapphic fics: dripping in gold (genderbent feysand) and lunch. (morlain ft the mommy kink tag!)

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

There are so, so many talented artists that inspire me! @thrumugnyr, @copypastus , @queercontrarian and @lucychanart have been my muses for all things Tamlin. @climbthemountain2020 and @wilde-knight are triple threats and their art brings me such joy! There's also @dustjacketdraws that always has primo Cassian and Nesta vibes!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

There are SO many. First and foremost, my babe @popjunkie42. I love you, my muse. Something about reading your writing and just chatting with you inspires all of my ideas to flow. @asnowfern is another muse and writer I can always turn to for inspiration, we were just recalling her Turning Darkness Into Light elucien spooktober fic that tickles my imagination so much among her other works!

I'm inspired and impressed endlessly by @climbthemountain2020 ability to flawlessly produce well developed, gorgeously vivid stories.

@highlordofkrypton, @missfckingfortune and @beesays inspire me constantly with their raw talent and skill and for the first two, the hot and steamy smut they can turn out. @jules-writes-stories inspires me with her OC work and beautifully layered plots (Mithras, my toxic love.) @c-e-d-dreamer inspires me with her fun AU worlds, but also with her fearlessness to tackle toxic relationships - @secret-third-thing is in this same boat as well as @iftheshoef1tz, @foundress0fnothing, and of course the OGs @thesistersarcheron, @whisperingmidnights, @separatist-apologist and @the-lonelybarricade.

There are so many more of you. I love this community and the inspiration that flows all around your creative, galaxy brained minds.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

SO many, but those I haven't mentioned yet who are so so talented (but not limited to this list): @dusk-muse, @chairofchaos, @shadowsandlint, @xxvalkyriesxx, @fourteentrout, and @littedidyouknow.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

None this year, but the idea is fun!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Could You Love Me While I Hate Myself is my proudest accomplishment this year by far. I always told myself I couldn't: write OCs, write a longfic, or write a fic that would ever break the UNBELIEVABLE stats this fic has done. I proved myself wrong on every front.

Thank you so much to @asnowfern, @popjunkie42 and @wilde-knight for seeing me through this capstone fic and for believing in me and helping me see myself in a totally different light.

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Be as silly and self-indulgent as possible.

If you have a killer idea/dialogue line/etc - WRITE IT DOWN. YOU WILL NOT REMEMBER IT LATER.

14. What is your advice?

Surround yourself with people who make you feel like you can accomplish anything and you will never fail because there they will be, gassing you up flop or not.

I love you, harem. Writing is so fun BECAUSE of you. <3

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Continuing to eat, serve and let the haters drown in it.

[meganswifeong]

I think the way a LOT of ya'll new in fandom spaces need to be more respectful of OCs and fandom artists n writers. The way I b seeing posts w 10k notes in #character x reader n it's all BASHING OCs saying crap like "nobody wants to read your fugly oc" and ya'll SEE NO PROBLEM IN THAT???? FRL??????

Oc x Character writers & Reader x Character used to b friends n one community, then x Reader got more popular which is coo but ya'll gotta be nicer to oc x character writers too. We all on the same team of self indulgence frl.

OC being in a #character x reader is also ok if the fic is.. a reader insert? Cross-Tagging is perfectly acceptable if both apply. a OC x character fic can also be a reader x character fic. A character x character fic can be reader x character too if the character is written for you to be inserting yourself into - plenty shows & games do this, think harem/otome games & animes... Same goes for fanfic

Don't like DON'T READ! Filter out OC x Canon then!! it's not that hard!!!!

!DISCLAIMER! This post is NOT about reader x character writers who do NOT tag or add any warning that it is an oc x character or randomly start describing y/n as some blondie blue eyed with no warnings, continue to shit on them fics in peace gang

[taldigi]

I uh went back to that dadske post and was going add a few more tags for flavor or context but I wrote toooo much so I'll just post as a text post instead. Yes, this is my hyperfixation and yes!! I do want to make my blorbo sad and miserable as all hell but I also need him to be loved relentlessly and made whole by his friends.

anyway Yuuko got her hair from her mother- and Yosk lets his hair return back to black because the wife hated him dying it. you can only handle so many years of being addressed as a disappointment before latching onto the fist person to express otherwise. (3 for 3! Get Saki'd, idiot!) then working too hard to do ANYTHING please that person (even though they might not really be the best person and are using you)

Go on boy, ditch your weird friends and your hobbies and things that make you happy and settle for the stable but soulless option of being a manager at a job you hate! (I am a firm believer in a "Manager of Junes Yosuke NOT good enrichment" after all.) Cause all thats embarrassing. dont you want me to be proud of you? The only person who's ever loooved you for you? (which is fundamentally untrue but when has depression or manipulation ever been rational?)

n/e/way one nasty divorce later and he's moving back to inaba for the cheaper rent for a place a that can actually fit him and a kid- and to be closer to his parents- hoping that maybe they would able to help out with the kid. Besides, he has an assured position at the Inaba junes. (the prodigal prince returns... return of the king... of junes)

BUT Surprise his friends are still there and Yu is too!! and yeah they're mad cause he basically evaporated but guess what? Yoosk isn't Yoosk anymore cause he's been drained of all his Yosuke colors.

"I spent years in a bad relationship and all I got was this lousy t-shirt... and a bad haircut and the total eclipse of my personality by the creature who steals my face when I perform customer service!”

I need Chie to try and fall into her usual banter and be met with... that and for her to grab Yu by the shoulders and shake him “Hes BROKEN FIXITFIXITFIXIT" and Yu having no direct answer because how can he help someone who's totally closed off?

Well, he can start through small things and reminders and food and Yuuko, which is proof that he's still there somewhere? After all, she's named after him.

I also need.... not JUST souyo but also the whole IT. Teddie and his niece bonding, Yosuke crying in some kind of relief and/or happiness when Kanji helps him dye his hair back again, Naoto helping him keep custody (so hard for a guy!!!) and Chie finally getting her usual banter back (thank god!) only for Yuuko to step up and kick Chie and forcing Yoosk to admit that what he and Chie have isn't antagonism (via explaining it to her)

Rise: *gentle gasp when she sees Yuuko* Tiny Yosuke. Yukiko, slamming her hand on the table and wheezing loudly: YOU'RE RIGHT.. SHE IS A TINY YOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!!!! and then they gift her strawberry hairpins which she loves and it embarrasses him because oh god thats right-

Yu having to confront Yuuko's energy and be like "aw shit Nanako was easy in comparison" and Yosuke looking him dead in the eyes "I'm giving everything in order for her not to turn out like Nanako" which sounds bad at first (cause it's foot in mouth disease Yosuke still) but...

"What happened to 'partner', Yosuke?" "I don't think I deserve that, after disappearing and everything, huh?" & then Yu being too damn happy and giddy when it finally slips out.

anyway, I apologize for nothing. ur the one who read thru the Indulgent asf au/story concept. throws self out window and books it down the street.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 25: Darkside

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

The Night Hag slinks out from the fog, her twisted form more monstrous than human. She grins, her jagged, yellow teeth razor-like as she slowly approaches.

“Lost, are we?” She croons, her voice raspy and vile; the sound of something decayed. “Such pretty little souls, caught in such a dreadful place. But I can help you, sweetling. Oh yes, I can show you the way out... for a small price, of course.”

Her grin widens, eyes sparkling with the promise of trickery. You hesitate, unsure; the pull of her words tempting, but a cold voice interrupts the moment.

"Oh, how original," Astarion sneers. “Let me guess, a ‘small price to pay for freedom’ or some other such nonsense?” He rolls his eyes, stepping forward slightly. For most, the movement would barely have been registered, seen as nothing but an idle manoeuvre, but as his body slides between you and the hag, you cannot help but wonder if it’s meant to shield you. Or simply protect his property. “Do yourself a favour, and save your pathetic little offers for someone who might actually be stupid enough to take them.”

The hag chuckles, amused by his contempt, and her eyes gleam as she turns her attention to him. “Ah, but what do you want, vampire?” Her voice is sweetly sinister, her long fingers gesturing toward him. “I can see the longing in your eyes.”

His scoff is venomous. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this. Please indulge me.”

“What is it you crave, hmm? Power? Control? No. I think not.” Her gaze polished with cruel delight. “Perhaps... freedom from your past. I could make you forget... her.”

The air freezes. Forget me?

You glance at Astarion, your breath catching in your throat. The hag’s words settle like a cold weight in your chest. Is that really what he wants? To forget you?

Astarion's face twitches—just for a second. But then his grin returns, sharper than a dagger. “Forget her?” he repeats with a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and heckling. “Oh, darling, you overestimate her importance to me. As if I’d waste my deepest desires on something so... trivial.”

Your chest tightens at his words, the venom in them striking deep. But there’s something else there, buried beneath the sarcasm—an atom of something more.

The hag seems to sense it too. Her smile doesn’t falter. “So proud,” she murmurs. “Deny it all you like, but we both know what’s holding you hostage, and it’s not that pesky, tattered soul of yours.”

Astarion’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The mercilessness returns in a flash, his voice laced with mockery. “Oh, spare me the psychoanalysis. If I wanted to erase her from existence, well, I wouldn’t need your filthy little hands involved. I am quite capable of doing that myself.”

Does he really want to forget me?

The hag’s milky eyes are still somehow predatory, and they narrow in on you now. She steps closer, her crooked fingers beckoning you forward, as if she can see right through the thin veneer of defiance you’ve managed to hold.

“You’re stuck, aren’t you? Trapped in a nightmare of his making.” Her gaze flickers toward Astarion, her smile growing wider. “Wouldn’t you like a way out of this?”

You stiffen, a cold sweat prickling the back of your neck. A way out? The thought, even fleeting, lances through your mind like a tempting whisper. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it?

“Don’t listen to her,” Astarion growls from beside you, his voice dripping with disdain. His crimson eyes press in on you, cold and cutting. “She’s trying to manipulate you. You’re not that gullible, are you?”

Of course you’re not. You know better than to make deals with these creatures. You didn’t do it even when the offer was to remove the tadpole from your brain, and you’re well aware you shouldn’t be entertaining the offer now. But you are so tired, so alone, and there’s no end in sight.

You swallow hard, his words stinging more than they should. But the hag’s voice wraps around you, smooth as silk, chipping through the fog of doubt. “I can break his hold over you,” she purrs. “You’ll never have to answer to him again. No more compulsion, no more being bent to his will.”

Your chest tightens, and for a moment, the idea of being free from his control claws at your thoughts. No more being bound to his whims, no more fear that his influence could pull you under again. No more being used like a puppet.

But Astarion’s voice cuts through your temptation like a scalpel, his tone filled with caustic derision. “Oh, yes, of course, by all means, let the hag break my hold over you.” His lips curl into a smirk, but his eyes flash with something sinister. “Because that’ll surely end well for you, won’t it? I’m sure she’ll just hand you back your freedom out of the goodness of her heart.”

You falter, your mind racing. You know he’s right—there’s no way a creature like this hag would offer something without a catch. But the temptation gnaws at you. What if… what if she could break his ability to control me? What if she could free me?

“Don’t you want to know?” The hag’s voice snakes closer, teasing the edge of your resolve. “Those runes he carved into your back… I know what they’re for. Wouldn’t you like to know, too? I could tell you… all it would take is a little deal.”

Your breath hitches, a chill sweeping through your body. The runes? The thought of them—burning into your skin, etched with wicked precision—sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve wondered, feared, what they mean. What they could do. Could she really tell you?

Astarion steps closer, his hand brushing your arm, and the gentleness of his touch jolts you back to reality. His voice is razor sharp, but there’s something beneath it, something simmering—anger, yes, but perhaps something more. “Don’t be stupid,” he snaps. “You think she’s going to help you? She’s playing you like a fiddle, and you’re letting her.”

Your thoughts spiral, torn between the two forces pressing in on you. Do I really want to know? But what if Astarion’s hold on you grows stronger, more unbearable? What if he’s truly gone and you’re left with this imitation of him for eternity? What if those runes mean something far worse than you can imagine?

Your chest tightens again, though there’s no heartbeat to quicken with the stress, no pulse to remind you that you're alive—just the suffocating weight of the choice crushing you.

The hag’s voice grows softer, more tempting as she senses your hesitation. “I could free you,” she whispers. “No more games, no more strings attached. You could finally be your own master again.”

Your fingers twitch, the offer hanging in the air between you like a curse. Astarion’s grip on your arm tightens ever so slightly, and his words are a low snarl in your ear. “You really are a fool if you take this deal.”

But you can’t help it. The thought lingers at the edges of your mind. Freedom. Control. Knowledge.

But at what cost?

“I—” You open your mouth, unsure of what will come out.

But before you can say anything, Astarion cuts in, his voice venomous. “If you take her deal, don’t expect me to come crawling to save you when it all falls apart. You’ll be on your own, little orphan.”

You stare at him, your mind a swirl of confusion and anger. Does he even care? Or am I just another tool to him, a possession he refuses to let go of? The idea that he would wipe you from his memory stings deeper than you want to admit.

But you also know what’s at stake. The hag’s smile grows wider, her eyes gleaming with victory as she watches you waver.

“No,” you say finally, your voice shaky but firm. “I won’t take your deal.”

The hag’s smile drops, her face furling into something far more sinister. “You’ll regret this,” she hisses. “Both of you.”

You meet her gaze, your resolve hardening. Maybe I will, you think. But I’ll regret it even more if I give in to her now.

Astarion watches the hag retreat into obscurity, his expression unreadable. But there’s a tension in his posture, something unsettled beneath the bluster. You want to ask him—do you really want to forget me?—but the words die in your throat.

“Let’s keep going,” you conclude. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Obviously,” Astarion drawls.

The maze twists around you, a suffocating labyrinth that pins down your mind with its dark, oppressive presence. Every path looks the same. There’s no way to tell which way is forward or back, each step dragging you deeper into this hellish nightmare.

Astarion strides ahead of you. The silence between you stretches on until it’s unbearable. You try to shake the sensation of being watched, hunted by unseen eyes.

“You’re slowing down,” Astarion’s voice slices through the silence, impatient and cold. “I know you’re slow, but honestly, do try to keep up. Or don’t—makes no difference to me if you get swallowed by this place.”

“I’m…trying,” you manage, though your legs feel like lead, your mind swimming with uncertainty. The weight of the atmosphere is pulling your thoughts in a hundred directions. Why did you refuse the hag? The offer to break his control over you…to finally know what the runes on your back mean. You had a choice, and yet…

"Trying? How sweet," he drawls, his voice saturated with sarcasm. “Not like we’re on a time crunch or anything. Really, take your time. I’m sure this maze will get bored of us eventually.”

The darkness cavorts at the edge of your vision, bringing with it images, half-formed nightmares. You see yourself in a mirror—pale, hollow, eyes sunken in a way that reminds you of what you’ve become. A vampire spawn, cold and lifeless. You are his, and yet… not fully.

You stop for a moment, staring at the shadows that swirl at your feet. “Do you…ever think about what would’ve happened if things had been different?” you ask quietly, unable to keep the question at bay. “If we hadn’t ended up like this?”

Astarion’s laughter echoes, harsh and bitter. “What’s this now? Existential dread? It’s not really your style.” His words are malefic, belittling, but then there’s a softening in his tone, so subtle you almost miss it. "Though, if you must know, I don’t waste time on ‘what ifs.’ Useless, really.”

His words confuse you. The thorny barbs, the endless brutality—it’s what you’ve come to expect from this version of your husband. But there are fleeting moments where his words hint at something else, and you don’t know what to make of it.

The shadows around you shift again, growing thicker, descending into your lungs with every breath. You can barely breathe as you stumble, catching yourself before you can actually fall.

"You’re pathetic," Astarion mutters, but there’s no bite in his voice this time. “Honestly, I don’t know why I keep you around.”

You blink, surprised at the lack of bane in his words. “You say that…but you haven’t left me behind yet.”

His eyes float toward you, a glint of something unreadable in those listless crimson depths. “Well, maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Or maybe…” you start, unsure where the courage is coming from, “maybe you still need me.”

Astarion scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the usual coldness is absent. “Need? You? Don't flatter yourself, darling.” He turns away, his expression hidden from you. “Just…keep moving. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can sell off your sorry soul and return to my palace without the weight of you dragging me down.”

You press on, but the environment continues to erode your mind, twisting every step into a fresh hell. Every path seems to lead to more confusion, every turn bringing up memories of pain, of control. His control. Your skin prickles at the thought of the runes carved into your back.

What if you had taken her deal?

What if you had freed yourself from him?

A part of you wants to ask him about the runes, to demand answers, but the fear of what he might say—or worse, what he won’t—holds your tongue.

The gloom twists endlessly, a vicious mockery of freedom. Your legs grow heavier with each passing moment, the weight of fatigue settling into your bones. Every time you blink, you see flashes of the hag's grin, her sickening offer to break the hold Astarion has over you. The temptation lingers like a poison, winding through your mind.

Astarion strides ahead, his posture as relaxed and arrogant as ever, as though the maze is nothing but a mild inconvenience to him.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” he says casually, not even glancing back at you.

“I’m fine,” you mutter.

“Fine?” Astarion stops, turning to face you, his eyebrow raised in mock amusement. “My dearest pet, if this is what ‘fine’ looks like, I’d hate to see you at your worst.”

You want to snap back to tell him to go to hell, but the words die in your throat as your knees buckle. You catch yourself against a tree, your fingers catching on what you think is a knot, until you glance at it and realize you’re holding onto somebody’s lower jaw, opened and screaming perpetually. You do not have the energy to pull away in horror, panting from the exertion of simply standing.

“Oh, for the love of—" Astarion’s voice cuts off, and for a moment, there’s something close to exasperation in his expression. Not cruelty. Not malice. Just...irritation. “You’re about to keel over, aren’t you?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“And I told you to stop lying,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, vitriolic hiss. “Honestly, do you ever stop being so stubborn? Must I drag every last ounce of truth out of you?”

You glare at him, but the heat in your gaze is weak, overshadowed by the fatigue. "I don’t...need you to take care of me."

Astarion smirks, though there’s a darkness to it. “No, of course not. Because you’re so terribly independent, aren’t you?” His words cut, but then, with a frustrated sigh, he steps closer, his eyes narrowing as they take in your trembling form. "Fine. Have it your way. But you’re no use to me if you collapse. We’re making camp here."

“You don’t have to do this,” you mutter, sinking to the ground despite yourself, your body sagging with exhaustion.

Astarion chuckles grimly. “Oh, believe me, I do not want to.” He drops down beside you, his presence unnervingly close. You find yourself tempted to wrap your arms around his neck, press yourself close, and beg him pathetically to pretend, just for a second, that he cares about you. “But watching you stumble around like a half-dead thing is getting tiresome.”

“I’m already a fully dead thing,” you snap weakly, your words a bitter reminder of the truth. No heartbeat. No life. A glorified corpse.

Astarion glances at you, something unreadable lambent behind his crimson eyes. “Yes, I suppose you are.”

There’s silence for a moment, thick and uncomfortable, but Astarion’s presence is the only thing grounding you. Despite everything—his savagery, his ridicule, the way he toys with you—he’s still here. He hasn’t abandoned or killed you.

“What do you want from me, Astarion?” The question slips out before you can stop it, your tongue loose from exhaustion, and your voice barely above a whisper. “Why keep me around?”

He’s quiet for a beat, his eyes fixed on the Stygian path ahead, as if he’s contemplating something far beyond the situation you find yourself embroiled in. When he finally speaks, his voice is braided with satire, but there’s an undertone of something else your ears can’t pick up. “I suppose I just enjoy your company so much, darling. Your incessant whining, your stubbornness—it’s all very endearing.”

You laugh softly, though it’s bitter. “Liar.”

Astarion turns his gaze to you, his smirk fading. For a moment, you think he might say something real, something true. “You’re right,” he says coldly, his eyes hardening. “I’m lying. I don’t care about you, not really. You’re just...useful. For now.”

You force yourself to nod, trying to ignore the strange ache in your chest where a heartbeat should be. “Useful to sell, you mean.”

Astarion’s expression flickers, but his voice remains shrewd. “Precisely. Rest,” he commands, not looking at you. “We’ll move again soon.”

He gets to his feet and walks a few paces away, his back to you, his silhouette stark against the umbra. Your mind races, but exhaustion finally wins out. The last thing you see before your meditation claims you is Astarion, standing alone in the dark, watching over you despite everything.

You wake slowly, the sensation of warmth beneath your head pulling you from the fog of your trance. For a brief, blissful moment, you forget where you are—no maze, no shadows, no twisted labyrinth of horrors in the Hells. But reality crashes down when you feel something solid beneath your cheek, soft fabric against your skin, and the unmistakable scent of him.

Your eyes snap open, and there it is—Astarion’s lap, your head cradled against his thigh. The realization sends a jolt of alarm through you, and you immediately recoil, scrambling back, the motion unsteady as your body hasn’t quite caught up with your mind. Panic twists through you, the memories of pain too fresh, too constant to forget.

His eyes are on you, watching, his crimson gaze edgier than usual. There’s something unreadable in his expression. He doesn’t say anything as you pull away, just lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Good morning or night to you too,” he drawls, his voice thick with a scornful jab. “By all means, don’t be too grateful. It’s not as if I’ve been sitting here for hours, keeping you safe while you slept like the dead.”

You blink, your mind still groggy. “What...why was I...?”

“Ah, yes,” Astarion interrupts, leaning back with a mocking grin. “The big question: why was your head in my lap? I’m sure it’s baffling, truly. Perhaps you just wanted to be close to me. Can’t say I blame you.” His smirk widens.

You rub your temples, trying to make sense of the situation. “You... let me sleep on you?”

Astarion’s expression tightens ever so slightly, but the mordancy doesn’t falter. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d willingly let you drool all over me. As soon as I sat down, you pitifully crawled over. I was benevolent enough to begrudgingly allow it. Wouldn’t want you rolling off into some thorny nightmare now, would we?”

His words drill more holes into your heart, but there’s something in the way he says them—something that doesn’t match the venom. “You didn’t shove me off,” you mumble, still trying to process everything. Your mind is beyond sluggish, more so than it should be. “Why?”

Astarion’s smile falters for a split second, and there’s that flicker again. “Oh, spare me the sentimental drivel,” he snaps, though his tone isn’t as keen as usual. “I didn’t shove you off because I didn’t feel like it. Does there need to be more to it than that?”

You narrow your eyes at him, sensing there’s more. "Usually, when you touch me, it's to hurt me.”

For a brief moment, he looks away, his jaw tight. “Yes, well. Consider it an anomaly.” He meets your gaze again, his expression twisting into something that’s half-snarl, half-grin. “But don’t get used to it. If you start expecting kindness from me, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Despite his harsh words, there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before—something unspoken between you. You search his face, looking for answers, but Astarion’s walls are as fortified as ever.

“You confuse me,” you admit softly, though there’s a tremor in your voice.

His lips curl into an edged, humourless smile. “Confusion is a powerful tool. Keeps you guessing, doesn’t it? But if you’re expecting me to confess some deep, hidden affection, you’ll not find that here.”

“I’m not expecting anything,” you reply, a little pricklier than you intended. “But it would be nice to know why.”

“Why?” he echoes, his tone biting. “Why, indeed. Maybe it’s because you’re useful. Maybe it’s because it amuses me to keep you around. Or maybe,” his voice drops, the causticity momentarily fading, “I just don’t like watching you suffer as much as I pretend to.”

Your heart would be pounding if it were still capable of such things. You search his eyes for any trace of truth, but he’s already deflecting again, his gaze sliding away from yours.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Astarion says, voice cold once more. “Whatever you think this is—whatever delusions you’re spinning in that head of yours—it doesn’t matter. I’ll do what I must to keep you alive. But don’t think for a second that you mean anything to me.”

You pull back further, his words settling like lead in your gut. He’s always like this—twisting the knife just enough to make you doubt everything, to make you question every shred of care he’s shown—but there’s little point in pressing him further, especially not when you can’t think straight.

The muscles in your body vacillate under your skin, coiling themselves in kinks and cramping. You swallow hard, trying to stymie the pain, disconnect yourself from it, and push it into the recesses of your brain. There is no time for weakness, not here and not with this version of Astarion looming like a threat.

“So what now?”

Astarion’s eyes snap back to yours, his smirk returning, though it’s more subdued. “Now, you get up, and we keep moving. Unless, of course, you’d like to go back to sleep on my lap awhile longer. I’m sure you’d find it so comfortable.”

You stand slowly, shaking off the lingering fatigue. “Not in this lifetime.”

“Pity,” he sneers, rising gracefully to his feet. But before he turns away, you catch the briefest glimpse of something warmer in his gaze—just for a moment, just enough to keep you questioning. Then it’s gone, and he’s back to his usual self. “Come along, then. We’ve got a lovely little maze to conquer, haven’t we?”

As you prepare to leave, your mind still hazy from the strange interaction, Astarion’s eyes drift downward. You don’t realize what he’s staring at until you follow his gaze and see your feet—bare, torn up, and bloodied from the relentless web of networks. The sight is familiar to you now—the constant pain, a dull throb in the background. But something about it seems to snag his attention.

For a moment, Astarion stands perfectly still, his expression unreadable. His keen, crimson eyes narrow as if calculating, and his lips press together in a thin line. It’s not concern—that much, you know—but there’s something unsettling in the intensity of his gaze.

Then, suddenly, his eyes dart around the area. His gaze lands on Shadowheart’s leather pack strapped to your side.

“Give me that,” he demands.

You blink, confused by the abruptness of his tone. “Why?” you ask, tightening your grip on the strap. That pack holds what little supplies you have—a healing potion, some scrolls, and anything else you’ve managed to scavenge along the way. You’re not exactly in a position to be handing over what little you have.

“Now, pet. I’m not in the mood for questions.”

You hesitate. There’s something odd about his request. He’s never cared about your supplies before—hell, he’s barely cared if you lived or died on most occasions, watching with disinterest as you struggled. Why now?

“Astarion, I need—”

Before you can finish your sentence, you feel it. The familiar cold grip of his compulsion wraps around you, sliding under your skin like an invisible chain. You stiffen, the sense of your autonomy slipping away. Your body is no longer your own.

Your hands move before your mind can catch up, fingers unclasping the strap of the pack from your side, offering it up to him like a puppet on strings.

No matter how hard you try to resist, your body won’t listen. It betrays you, forcing the bag into Astarion’s waiting hands, your muscles completely out of your control. Your mind screams in frustration, but it’s drowned out by the overpowering force of his will.

“There’s a good girl,” Astarion purrs mockingly, a savage smile twisting his lips as he takes the pack from your rigid hands. The compulsion lingers for a moment longer, making you feel like a prisoner in your own body, and then it releases you, leaving you breathless and shaken.

You recoil, stumbling back a step as you regain control of yourself, your hands trembling from the aftershock of his power.

“What are you doing with that?” you ask, trying to suppress the bitterness in your voice.

Astarion dumps the contents of the pack onto the ground with a clatter, items scattering across the cold earth. He shoves the one potion and scrolls to the side, but otherwise ignores whatever else fell out. Instead, he draws his dagger, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light, and begins cutting the leather into strips with practiced precision.

You stare, confusion swirling in your mind. “What are you doing?” you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty.

“Making you something more suitable for this lovely little excursion,” he replies. “Now, sit.”

Your instinct kicks in at the sight of the dagger, and you hesitate, grounding yourself in the Weave. You prepare to summon your magic, the familiar warmth thrumming just beneath your skin.

Astarion scoffs, his amusement evident. “Oh, don’t be silly.” He steps closer, eyes narrowing. “You’re not going to try that nonsense again, are you?”

Before you can retort, the cold grip of his compulsion washes over you, wrapping around your limbs like iron shackles. The force is undeniable, and despite your resistance, you feel yourself sink back onto the ground, compelled to obey.

“When are you going to learn better?” He mocks, amusement dancing in his red, glowing eyes.

Something ignites in you—less fear this time, a streak of defiance. “Maybe when you stop being so insufferably callous,” you bite back, your voice steady despite the turmoil churning in your gut.

His expression wavers, caught between amusement and irritation. “Oh, how delightful. A little rebellion,” he replies, the words dripping with condescension as he steps toward you, his posture predatory.

You brace yourself, heartless and defiant, ready for whatever bite he might deliver. But instead of pain, he gently takes your feet in his hands, his grip surprisingly careful, the contrast jarring. He starts wrapping the leather strips around your battered feet, crafting a makeshift shoe with a surprisingly delicate touch.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, confusion deepening as you watch him work, the sight of his concentrated expression momentarily disarming.

“I need you to keep up with me,” he replies, his voice a low, scornful drawl, but there’s a hint of something buried beneath the layers of facetiousness. “I’m not about to carry you if your feet give out, and I’m certainly not in the mood to deal with any more unnecessary delays.”

The leather fits snugly, giving you a modicum of comfort, yet the entire interaction leaves you unsettled. You want to scream at him, to push back against the conflicting emotions that swirl between you, but all you can manage is a shaky breath as he ties off the strips and releases your feet.

Astarion rises, brushing the dust from his trousers. “There,” he grunts, his tone flat. “Now, stop whining and keep up.”

There’s something unsettling about this version of Astarion—the one who can be cruel and yet oddly considerate.

“Thanks, I guess,” you say, still trying to reconcile his behaviour in your mind as you collect the potion and scrolls, stuffing what you can into your pockets.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, his tone clipped and dismissive, but a vestige of something softer flits across his face before he masks it with irritation once more. “Now let’s get moving.”

You nod, resolve hardening as you prepare to follow him into the void, your heartless state allowing you to push aside the lingering confusion. You still have to find your way out, and whatever emotions this twisted vampire stirs within you, they will not distract you from your goal.

The forest is seemingly never-ending, each turn a repetition of the last. Twisted trees and jagged rocks loom like spectres. Every step grates against your raw nerves, the tension between you and Astarion building with every passing moment. His footsteps are unnervingly quiet, while your makeshift leather shoes, for lack of a better word, scrape faintly against the earth.

You catch glimpses of him from the corner of your eye, his expression impassive, his gaze focused ahead as if none of this tortures him as much as it does you.

“How long do you think this will go on?” You ask, your voice low, not wanting to admit how much this is already starting to fray your mind.

Astarion glances at you, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “What’s the matter, pet? Already tired of our little adventure?” His tone is intense, biting—yet there’s a sliver of something almost... concerned? But the moment you think you catch it, he swats it away with a laugh.

Your mind drifts back to the Astarion—the one this hollow version has imprisoned somewhere deep within himself. The one who held you close after the nightmares, whose soft laugh felt like home even in the devastating moments. Your Astarion, the husband you barely got to spend any time with.

You ache for him—the real him—the one that still exists somewhere beneath this imitation. You miss the warmth in his gaze, the gentle way his fingers brushed against your skin when no one else was watching. The Astarion who could still care, still feel, still love you. The one who is gone now, locked away beneath layers of malice and apathy.

Where are you, Astarion? You wonder, hating that the person standing before you is a grotesque reflection of the man you once knew. And yet... a part of you can't help but search for him, even in this version.

“I’m tired of you,” you mutter under your breath, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you walk.

“Ah, and yet you’re still here. Curious, isn’t it?” he drawls, a glint of amusement in his crimson gaze. “Tell me, does the constant struggle against your better judgment wear you out? Knowing that part of you—perhaps the smarter part—wants to trust me?”

You snort, your steps faltering as you glare at him. “Trust you? I wouldn’t trust you with a cup of water, let alone my life.”

He smirks, fangs flashing briefly in the dim light. “Wise, perhaps. But deep down, you must wonder. Why am I still watching over you? Why haven’t I left you to rot?”

You stiffen, unsure how to respond. The truth is, you’ve been asking yourself the same question. His savagery is undeniable, but every so often, there’s some small gesture that doesn’t make sense for someone who should want you dead—or worse, sell you like livestock to an archdevil.

“Maybe you just enjoy torturing me,” you shoot back, keeping your eyes on the serpentine path ahead. “Maybe it amuses you.”

“You’re a nuisance at best, but I do have a certain... fondness for keeping nuisances close.”

Your fists clench, the rising tension between you nearing its boiling point. “Is that what this is? Just another game to you?”

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. His gaze is intense, unreadable. “What else could it be? You, of all people, should know by now that everything is a game to me. One that I always win.”

The way he says it, the absolute certainty in his voice, makes your blood solidify in your veins. There’s no room for doubt in him. No room for compassion or care—at least, not this version of him.

Before you can respond, the forest seems to shift around you, closing in tighter, the air growing heavier. You glance around, disoriented. The path ahead twists, writhing like a serpent. The world tilts slightly, and suddenly you’re not sure which direction is forward anymore.

Astarion notices your hesitation and steps closer, his presence like a cold shadow creeping up your spine. “Losing your nerve already?” he mocks, his voice low and taunting.

The labyrinth distorts again, and this time, the ground beneath your feet trembles, sending a shockwave through the air. You stumble, and Astarion’s arm shoots out, steadying you. You look up at him, confused.

He’s frowning, brows pulled down low. “Stay close,” he barks, voice tense. The shift in his demeanour is jarring, and it only deepens the unease settling in your gut.

The trembling intensifies, the trees groaning and shifting like they’re alive. You take a step back, your heart—well, the place where your heart should be—thrums in anticipation.

Astarion suddenly jerks his head, eyes narrowing as he scans the darkening path ahead. “Did you hear that?” His voice is no longer taunting but honed, focused. It’s as if he’s slipped into a mode of pure survival.

Your breath catches as you halt your breathing, and you strain your ears, focusing. At first, it’s just the faint rustle of leaves and the hum of the shifting terrain. But then you hear it—low, guttural whispers, as if the shadows themselves are speaking. They echo from every direction, surrounding you both, growing louder with each passing second.

“Astarion…” you whisper, your voice betraying the fear creeping up your spine.

“I know,” he snaps, his eyes darting around, calculating. “Stay behind me.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when the ground splits open beneath your feet with a violent crack, sending a gust of scalding wind surging through the air. You stumble back, your legs buckling as the earth shakes and the trees twist into grotesque shapes.

A massive creature bursts from the ground in front of you, its skin slick and writhing with tendrils, eyes glowing with malevolent hunger. Its mouth opens wide, revealing rows upon rows of jagged teeth, dripping with venomous ichor. It towers over both of you, casting a long, terrifying shadow.

Astarion’s face hardens, and his dagger is in his hand in an instant. “Run,” he commands, his voice deep and dangerous.

The beast lets out a deafening roar, and before you can react, it lunges toward you with impossible speed.

Everything seems to move in slow motion. The creature’s massive jaws open, and you can almost feel the sharp teeth ready to tear into you. You try to move, but it’s like your body is locked in place. Your mind screams for you to fight, to run, to do anything—

Suddenly, Astarion is in front of you, pushing you out of the way with a strength that leaves you breathless. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting up your side as you skid across the dirt. When you look up, the creature’s massive claws are descending on Astarion.

You scream his name, but it’s too late. The claws tear into him, the sound of ripping flesh filling the air as the creature lets out a triumphant roar.

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things.

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

If anyone is interested, I rewrote and edited the first 4 (I think) chapters because when I started this I was pretty new and not entirely sure of myself. Nothing in them has changed story wise or anything, just tried to improve on some scenes and pacing, so there's no need to reread them if you don't want to, but for those who might, I wanted to mention it.

This Astarion is giving me emotional whiplash to write.

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Take These Broken Wings

Dick Winters x Enlisted!Unnamed Female OC/Reader

Trapped behind his desk, Dick finds out the unthinkable has happened to the woman he cares about. Now he has to deal with the consequences; first as her commanding officer and then as the man who loves her.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Angst, Implied Sexual Assault, Descriptions of OC/Reader Injuries, Discussion of Retaliatory Violence, Gentleman's Agreement Not To Prosecute, Period Specific Ideas about Honor and Protection of Women, PTSD, Weapons, Language, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Because of the sensitive nature of this fic, I chose to write it in the third person but only a nickname is used so it can be read as a reader fic. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within, particularly the Red Devils in this case!

Special Note: Dearest tag list, I have chosen not to tag any of you because this is so wildly different than my usual fics, I just wasn't sure who would want to read it.

Word Count: 4148

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October 17, 1944 – Schoonderlogt, Holland

It had never been his intention to fall in love with her. With any of the female paratroopers in the 506th, for that matter. But like the slow erosion of a river carving a new path through bare rock, she had ever so gradually hollowed out a place for herself in his heart until all at once he realized he could not live without her. Of course, if one were to ask her, she fell in love with Dick Winters the first day they met in Toccoa, Georgia, sun scorching their skin, blazing his hair copper – or so she liked to remind him often.

His realization had not come until he’d found her halfway up a tree in Normandy, tangled in the lines of her parachute, desperately trying to slice herself free before she was discovered by enemy troops. The sheer panic he had felt as his mind flooded with all the possible ways he could have lost her that night had only served to drive home how deeply he cared for Peaches. Dick didn’t often use the nickname that Nix had bestowed on her; a nickname born of some sordid adventure involving cans of peaches that he’d decided he’d rather not know about. But he did love the way it made her nose crinkle when he slipped it into their stolen moments together. Moments that were becoming harder and harder to find now that he had been placed in charge of 2nd Battalion.

Several pages being laid on his desk by Zielinski tore Dick out of his inner musings and he lifted his pen to add his signature to the line where his Orderly pointed expectantly. Sink had assured him the paperwork would be ‘nothing to sweat’ but Dick was certainly sweating it now. The call of Nixon’s voice as he came up the stairs was a welcome reprieve from the rapidly multiplying stacks of paper on his desk, something that his friend seemed only too happy to point out.

Dick could only feel envy, mixed with trepidation and a certain amount of helplessness, as Heyliger informed him Operation Pegasus was preparing to launch in a matter of hours and he remained trapped in his combination office and bedroom in the attic. As the pair of them made their way down the stairs and out of the requisitioned farmhouse, Dick looked up from his typewriter once more as he heard Nixon’s bright greeting.

“Hey there Peaches, you’ve got something on your face.”

“Very funny Captain. Lieutenant.” He heard her voice reply and did his best not to grin.

“Zielenski, could you go grab a new box of pencils from the storeroom? It’s going to be a long night.” Dick swallowed, doing his best to come up with an excuse for two minutes alone with her, five if he was lucky.

“Yes, sir.” There was a note of confusion in the man’s voice but thankfully he complied, hustling down the stairs.

There was a moment of silence before he heard the door shut followed by the sound of her jump boots scuffing up the worn wooden steps, grinning as she was startled to find him waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“And here I was thinking I’d surprise you…Who was that?” She glanced back towards the door, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, how’re you feeling about this thing?” He asked softly, taking her hands in his.

“Should be fine, Moose picked mostly people who can swim, the Canadians are nice. That Colonel Dobie sure is handsome.” She teased lightly, lacing her fingers with his.

Despite her teasing tone, Dick still felt a little annoyed at the comment, particularly given the fact that the man was free to swim the river in reconnaissance and join the operation that night while he was a glorified paper pusher.

“Too bad for him I like ‘em tall as a stalk of corn and copper as a penny.” She leaned in to press her lips to his and Dick felt his eyes fall shut, tension that he’d been carrying for hours slowly ebbing from his body.

She pulled back with a soft smile before frowning apologetically. “Sorry my love I got grease paint on you.” She licked her thumb and swiped at his cheek like he was a grubby toddler, and he could not help the broad grin that stretched his features even as he felt his cheeks heat up at the term of endearment she’d only recently begun to use.

“I’ll get it in a moment, Peaches.” He muttered, glancing around to ensure they were still alone before sliding an arm around her waist to pull her close, kissing her soundly. “Be safe out there…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…”

“Oh, like run across a field toward two companies of SS by myself?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he pressed his lips together, still able to hear every word of her displeasure at being left behind for the agonizing seconds it took for the red smoke signal to appear.

“Especially that.” He muttered, clearing his throat and taking a step back as he heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs.

She quickly grabbed her handkerchief and soaked it with water from her canteen, passing it to him so he could scrub at his face, hopefully removing all evidence of their interlude.

“Pencils sir.” Zielenski held out the box proudly and she raised an eyebrow, introducing herself warmly to the Orderly.

“That’ll be all, Sergeant, good luck out there.”

“Thank you sir, appreciate your time.” She replied smoothly, looking completely unaffected while Dick was very aware of the residual heat in his face.

Dick took his time opening the box, watching her back as she slowly descended out of sight until the door closed shut behind her. Sinking into his chair he submitted himself to another few hours of pointing and signing with his Orderly before sending the boy to bed, peering out his window hopefully when a great ruckus arose from one of the barns out back.

Glancing at his watch to confirm it was nearly 0200, he smiled a little to himself as everything seemed to have gone off alright. Rain drops began to sporadically strike the windowpane before the clouds opened into a steady, driving rain. Dick dropped the curtain with a sigh, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of water striking the roof and rolling off the eaves. It was dangerously tempting to lay his head down on his desk and give in to the heaviness in his eyelids, to allow himself to be lulled to sleep. Shaking himself physically, he turned back to yet another report and began striking the keys of his typewriter with a vengeance, hoping to keep himself awake with the racket.

Dick was just spooling a fresh page into place when Nixon was suddenly hurrying up the stairs, followed by Colonel Dobie himself. Both men were wet as drowned rats, but it was the seriousness of their faces that pulled Dick to his feet immediately, securing the pencil from between his teeth into his fist.

“Dick, you remember Colonel Dobie.”

“Yeah…yeah I do…” He replied slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of a sword dangling over their heads as he waited for them to tell him what was going on.

“Terribly sorry to barge in at such a late hour but I wanted to inform you of this incident personally. Well, incidents more precisely. It appears that one of our men, a Holman from Yorkshire, has been severely beaten by a couple of your men from Easy in retaliation for his attack on one of your female soldiers.”

Dick nodded once as he processed the news, heartrate picking up immediately. There were a total of twenty-seven women in 2nd Battalion, but given that it had been only Easy involved in Pegasus, that narrowed it down to a possible nine, of which just a handful had been chosen for the operation. Dick merely had to glance at Nixon to confirm his worst fear. Peaches.

He didn’t realize how tight his grip on the pencil in his hand had grown until the wooden object snapped in two.

“I am willing to consider the matter settled and in need of no further action. The man in question will be returned to England and assigned to some menial duty once he recovers from his injuries.” Dobie continued.

“That will take some time?” Dick asked calmly, despite the searing rage he felt rushing through him.

“Your men were thorough, Captain.” The Colonel replied, grimly.

Dick stood there a moment, eyeing an ink stain that had seeped into the wooden desk top while he was refilling his pen, considering. A beating and unpleasant assignment as punishment for heaven knows what the man had inflicted on her. But to demand more formal proceedings would immediately require testimonies and punishments for the men who had taken it upon themselves to defend her honor. He closed his eyes a moment, vision immediately flooded with her smiling face on one of the blissful outings they had enjoyed during their furlough in England. Forcefully setting the image aside, despite the way it wrenched at his heart to do so, he nodded again. If only to save her further pain.

“Agreed.” Dick offered his hand, Colonel Dobie sealing their agreement with a firm handshake.

Dobie turned to shake Nixon’s hand as well before seeing himself out, Dick waiting until he heard the door close before he spoke again. Two questions on the tip of his tongue, two men inside him, warring for dominance. To his dismay, he had to allow the Battalion’s commanding officer to speak first.

“Who are our vigilantes?”

“Martin and Randleman.” Nixon replied, sitting on one of the folding chairs at the small table in the corner with a heavy sigh. “Moose has them downstairs if you want to talk to them.”

“Yeah. Show them up.”

Nixon leveraged himself out of the chair and was halfway across the attic before he suddenly turned back. “She put that can of peaches in Parkes’ footlocker.”

Dick eyed his friend in confusion, the information seeming utterly irrelevant to their current situation until he suddenly remembered one of Sobel’s impromptu barracks inspections back in Toccoa.

“That dumb bastard wouldn’t leave the women in her squad alone, so she planted it there to get him in trouble – never expected him to get thrown out entirely.” Nixon sighed heavily.

“Where is she?” Dick asked quickly, the words almost melding together in his haste to get them out of his mouth.

“Johnny thinks she’s holed up in the supply barn, I’ll find out.” Nixon replied with a frown and Dick nodded silently, muscles of his jaw clenching almost painfully as he clung to the last vestiges of his focus.

He tossed the broken halves of the pencil onto the desk, frowning at the mess of lead on his palm and pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, frown deepening at the smudges of grease paint there from her face. He clenched the fabric between his fingers as Moose entered the office followed by a hard-faced Martin and a typically laidback Randleman.

“What happened?” He asked plainly, eyeing them expectantly.

Moose stood off to the side, watching Martin and Randleman exchange a look.

“Don’t all talk at once…” Dick prodded calmly, and Martin turned back to him.

“Bull and I were on our way out of the celebration, wanted to beat the rain and get back to our quarters – didn’t work out. Ran into Peaches as we got around the corner of the building. She looked like hell, roughed up, wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

“She just ran, not like her at all, sir.” Randleman chimed in.

“And then that bastard from the Devils, or whatever they call themselves, came around the corner looking all pleased with himself. Adjusting his pants.”

“Knuckles busted up.” Came Randleman’s addition once more.

“Anyway,” Martin continued after a sharp nod of agreement, “it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Dick exhaled a slow, measured breath. “I can appreciate why you both did what you did. Next time, and we can only hope we never have to have this conversation again, bring him to Moose, to me. We have systems in place, alright?”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All that said…well done.” Dick said with quiet emphasis, letting his pride and gratitude burn brightly in his gaze. “And you’re both on latrine duty for the next two weeks.” He tacked on because he really had no choice but to punish them.

A pair of smirking salutes was the only response before Moose ushered them out. Dick waited until the count of twenty before sliding the suspenders of his OD pants onto his shoulders, shrugging into his jacket and clapping on his helmet. Grabbing his M1 and flashlight, he quickly made his way down the stairs and out into the persistent deluge toward the supply barn, nearly slamming into Nixon on the way.

“Follow me.” His friend nodded and continued to lead the way, nodding to Liebgott who was standing guard at the door, soaked to the skin.

“Joe.” Dick greeted him, noting the way he had his collar turned up obscuring half his face. The way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

It easily could have been in an attempt to protect himself against the elements, but Dick also knew Liebgott was the sort of man to never let anything go unanswered and if he was standing out here in the rain, he was surely more involved than anyone was letting on.

“Peaches is in there, sir. Doc Roe tried to help her, she wouldn’t let him touch her. Thought I’d make sure no one bothered her until she was ready.”

“Good thinking.” Dick swallowed.

He ought to press further, ferret out the truth of Liebgott’s involvement, but standing just outside where she was hiding, the other half of him was very much in charge now – wanting nothing more than to throw the door open and charge in. But by the sounds of it, that approach would be quite unwelcome.

“Why don’t you go warm up for a bit, we’ll take a turn.” Nixon said to Liebgott who looked between the pair of them before nodding in return.

“Thanks, sir.” He agreed, glancing back toward the barn once before jogging off into the night.

Dick waited until they were well and truly alone before slowly opening the door, stepping into the dim space, sliding his helmet from his head. The sound of footsteps retreating into the far corner behind crates of supplies drew his attention and he took a slow breath, calling her name softly.

“It’s me. Dick. I’m here to check on you.”

There was a soft, smothered sound and he clenched his fists, keeping his progress gradual and measured, trying not to make any sudden movements or noises to startle her. As he reached the rear of the barn, he rounded a stack of crates and his heart clenched painfully as his eyes fell on her wedged between a few bundles of blankets and sacks of something it was too dark to read the labels of. Her knees were hugged tightly to her chest, M1 tucked into the crook of her elbow as she eyed him warily in the dark.

Her normally tidy hair was in disarray, and the side of her face that he could see sported a gash across her eyebrow. He took another step closer, the air shuddering from his lungs as she flinched away, pressing tightly into the wall behind her, revealing her split lower lip, the swelling along her left cheekbone, the barely-dried tear tracks on her face.

Dick had never seen her shy away from anything since the day they’d met – not the obstacle course, the rifle range, Currahee, or jumping out of a C-47. For his proximity to garner such a reaction from her felt very much as though she had torn his heart from his breast and stomped it beneath her heel.

Sinking slowly into a crouch, he swallowed before speaking just above a whisper. “Peaches…”

The look of disgust, whether it was at the nickname or at herself – perhaps both, mixed with horror that crossed her face had Dick seriously considering if he had enough time to find Holman before his trip back to England and land a few blows himself. He gently corrected it with her name, teeth grinding together audibly in his skull as she turned her head to the side revealing small knicks at her throat. He’d held her at knife point.

“They’ve already found him. Some of the boys took justice into their own hands, but his superiors know now too.” He tried to reassure her, let her know he was no longer out there, no longer a threat to her.

Dick’s eyes dropped to follow the movement of her fingers as she picked at the torn ends of her nails, several cuts visible on her hands as well. Knowing her she’d probably put up a hell of a fight.

“P–” He stopped himself before he accidentally used the offensive nickname again. “…please you’re hurt. Can I clean you up?” He asked, voice trembling with the emotions he was desperately trying to keep at bay for her sake as he shifted forward onto his knees.

She shook her head violently in response, hugging her limbs tighter to her body, which hadn’t even seemed a possibility until it was done. Dick swallowed painfully, carefully laying his rifle and helmet down on the wooden floor beside him, sitting back on his heels.

“I love you.” He blinked rapidly at the gathering dampness in his eyelashes. “No matter what’s happened, I will always love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She eyed him skeptically, no words passing between them for a long while. The sound of the persistent rain outside pounding against the roof filled the barn, drowning out the sound of their breathing, until she opened her mouth to speak at last.

“I froze.” She whispered, tone thick with self-loathing as she released her grip on her M1, laying it down beside his before sealing her palm over her mouth.

She began to shake with sobs so ferocious that no sound passed her throat, rendering the smothering effect of her hand unnecessary. Dick felt his heart shatter as he automatically reached for her, wanting nothing more than to pull her close and soothe some of her pain. Her repeated aversion to his touch, however, came flooding back and he froze, arms outstretched and aching to hold her, but wanting to respect her wishes.

The feeling of her body colliding with his chest as she launched herself into his arms punched the air from his lungs for several reasons, nearly sending him toppling over backwards with the force of it. Dick’s arms quickly gathered her onto his lap, one hand rubbing along her spine as her strangled sobs soaked his jacket, her hands clutching at him in return.

“You survived, my love.” He whispered against her hair, deciding he really ought to call her that in kind. It was only fitting for it was exactly how he felt. “You did what you had to do to survive in that moment. Please forgive yourself.”

He felt her shift against his sternum, the shudders wracking her body gradually slowing as she took deeper and deeper breaths, sniffling and wiping at her face carefully.

“Who did you have to yell at?” She murmured wetly, peering up at him cautiously.

“Martin and Randleman. Fairly certain Liebgott is somehow involved as well.” Dick replied softly, fighting back the urge to stroke her face. One step at a time – being allowed to hold her would more than suffice for now.

She sniffed. “Johnny must have figured it out first. I couldn’t even come up with a plausible lie I just…ran away from him outside the party…” Her eyes lowered in shame before she sat up slowly, Dick biting back a frown at the barely concealed wince that crossed her features.

“Nix is outside keeping watch. Can I take you back to CP? Get you cleaned up?” He swallowed, really wanting her to allow Roe to look her over but doubting that would be an option.

She looked to him, eyes suddenly wide with the terror of realization. “Oh god Dick, what if I catch something or…wind up pregnant…oh fuck…” Her face began to crumple, and Dick swallowed, quickly cupping her uninjured cheek hoping to startle her out of that train of thought.

As she jumped and looked to him sharply, he apologized gently. “My love, we don’t know if any of those things will happen. Hopefully they won’t, but no matter what comes next, we’re going to face it together.”

“But Dick I’m–”

“Don’t go and say something melodramatic, now. You’re the woman I love and something horrible has been done to you. It doesn’t change who you are to me.” He replied firmly, swallowing as she stared at him startled for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Now I’m taking you to CP and we’re getting you cleaned up, ok?”

“Should I salute you, Captain?” She raised an eyebrow before wincing and restoring her face to a neutral expression.

He felt his cheeks redden, a sure sign that things would some day return back to normal. That the woman he loved was still with him, she just needed a lot of care right now and he was more than happy to provide it. “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.” He replied and tried not to smirk as she scoffed slightly in surprise before shifting to her feet slowly.

Dick passed her rifle to her before grabbing his own, rising to his feet and sliding his helmet on his head. He offered his hand to her, swallowing back his sigh of relief as she laced her battered fingers through his and followed him out through the maze of supplies to where Nixon was still waiting in the rain.

“Christ, Peaches…” He breathed when she came into view and Dick shot him a sharp look, trying, too late, to stop him using the nickname.

“Son-of-a-bitch ruined the nickname, Nix. I trust you to come up with a new one.” She sighed, sounding positively exhausted, and Nixon nodded quickly in reply.

“Noted. You sure you’re alright?” He asked softly and she shook her head.

“No. But someday, maybe.” She replied honestly and Nixon nodded empathetically as Dick squeezed her hand gently.

“Let’s get out of this rain.” He led the three of them back into the farmhouse, taking her straight to the washroom where he filled the basin with water. “Help or no?”

She paused a moment, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror left behind by the home’s original owners and Dick waited patiently until she turned back to him. “I can do it.” She replied softly and he nodded, closing the door to wait in the hall.

Nixon shuffled by carrying his pillow and Dick raised an eyebrow. “Give her my bed, I’ll take your crappy little cot.” He muttered, making his way to the attic before he even had the chance to reply.

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall, thoroughly spent by the events of the day, knowing he’d have to be up in just a few hours to face the rest of the paperwork on his desk.

“Dick?” Her soft voice startled him, making him realize he’d actually fallen asleep standing up, for just a moment.

Her lips twitched slightly with a hint of amusement, and he smiled slightly in return, nodding as she looked more herself despite the still-fresh injuries.

“This way.” He offered his hand and led her towards Nixon’s room, gesturing at the bed. “Gift from Lew.”

Her face softened, eyes glistening suddenly, reminding Dick just how fragile she still was. “Where is he sleeping?”

“Attic.”

“Then you need a bed too…” She replied as she crawled onto the mattress, sighing at the softness of the bedding.

“Oh, the floor is fine I…”

“Please hold me.” Her voice was small, her request simple and one that he did not need to hear twice to honor.

He unlaced his boots and removed his outer layers before crawling in with her, letting her curl up against him before sliding his arm around her carefully. “Comfortable?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“Very.” She replied sleepily and he allowed himself to drift, listening to the rise and fall of her breath, letting sleep nibble at the edges of his consciousness.

“Dick?” She whispered and he snuffled awake quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Does it smell like pee in here?”

-------------------------

Band of Brothers Masterlist

[bythepen98]

N/ purely self-indulgent hhh, plus I always wanted to do something like this when I read a good fic. First attempt at making a webcomic.

Based on @rayshippouuchiha's ShikaNaru fic "The Brightest Flame (The Darkest Shadow)" :D

Rated: M

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Genderfluid Character, Yandere Shikamaru Nara, Smitten Shikamaru Nara, Naruto with Tsunade's Strength, Love At first Chakra Enhanced Strike,.... etc.

Chapters (so far): 2/?

Summary:

Shikamaru’s never felt chakra so vibrant and warm before.

The log that Naruto’s been punching shatters clean apart, reduced to little more than splinters under the devastating force of his chakra enhanced blow.

Shocked and more than a bit startled, Shikamaru wheezes loudly, the sound carrying across the clearing and causing Naruto to abruptly turn and look in his direction.

And in that single moment Shikamaru is lost.

[excerpt]

...because Shikamaru is a Nara to the core, is the strongest they've seen in generations, and the Nara have always been a clan of Shadows after all.

and what does the shadow crave more than the light?

Naruto, with his ocean blue eyes and his golden hair swaying in the breeze his attack had created, shines as bright as the sun itself.

And Shikamaru intends to have him.

(edit: forgot to add this)

..."so much for that quiet wife and two ordinary kids idea."

"Time for a new plan." Because, really, there's no way life with Naruto is going to be any form of quiet or normal.

....Shikamaru's entire life plan has to be thrown out the window and then redrawn from scratch.

Either way Shikamaru's not actually all that upset about his entire life being thrown into an abrupt upheaval.

After all, convincing Naruto to marry him as soon as possible will be well worth the effort.

Naruto's pretty sure this is the closest they've ever actually been to one another outside of the few times they've been paired up to spar in class.

"What're you doing after this?" Shikamaru asks, one hand coming out of his pocket to reach out and play idly with the dangling sleeve of Naruto's kimono.

"After training?" Naruto keeps one eye on Shikamaru's hand...

"More like for the rest of your life," Shikamaru says. "But sure, we can start with training."

Naruto blinks.

.....[Naruto's] not really sure what, exactly, is happening here but he thinks this might mean Shikamaru wants to be his friend now.

Ah my sweet summer child.

Not an exact play by play of what was written in the fic, only the gist I guess and the moment that rly stuck in my head and got me giggling in my pillow.

My love for the "oblivious pure(?) mc and their darker, possessive s/o" trope has struck again. Couldn't've stopped myself from finishing this even when sleep-deprived, which I currently am right now. Had fun challenging myself with this too and might attempt it again with a future chapter or other works depending on my schedule. I'm occupied with studying this month so making something time extensive like this won't happen for awhile yet.

Excitedly waiting for updates :D