#was when they were fighting ray chase

[mania-sama]

"Maybe Keith Silverstein isn't my superior and Ray Chase isn't my enemy in the next life...."

The next life:

... "GODDAMNIT."

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Sometime in the night, you woke up shivering.

You didn’t typically sleep naked, you usually opted for something oversized and flannel, choosing comfy over cute everytime. You had taken off your clothes just to tease Rafe, and fallen asleep with a triumphant smile on your face, now you were shivering so hard your teeth were rattling.

After pulling on a t-shirt and sweats, you settled back in bed, but sleep escaped you. You tossed and turned thinking about the look on Rafe’s face when you took your clothes off in front of him, the way he was squeezing the pillow in his arms so tightly you thought it might pop. He kept his distance, didn’t push to stay or snap at you, even though you were giving him every reason to. It was a stark contrast to the tone in Tom’s voice when you’d turned down his sleepover proposition.

Maybe Rafe had changed. There was something different about him, something softer. 

What felt like hours passed as Rafe occupied your mind and you still couldn’t fall back to sleep. You remembered you’d seen some sleepytime tea in the kitchen, so you got up and made your way to the door.

You almost tripped on him, stopping short just inches from stepping right on his hand.

Holding back a yelp, you looked down at the obstruction; Rafe, curled up with the pillow you’d given him, asleep in front of your door. The blanket from your closet was still folded at his feet, apparently he hadn’t intended on settling here for the night.

Something warm and bright flooded your chest at the sight of him. He so badly wanted to stay close to you that he hadn’t even made it down to the couch.

Ever since you’d known him, Rafe was like a storm, overwhelming and unpredictable. From the day you first saw him on the school bus, you made yourself a storm chaser, studying the clouds, looking for signs that the wind was about to pick up, hoping that someday the sky might clear. Looking down at him as his body rose and fell with peaceful breaths, his broad shoulders curled inward as he held the pillow with both hands, it occurred to you that maybe in the years you’d stopped chasing him, the storm had finally passed. These past few days, the faintest rays of sunlight were breaking their way through to your heart. Part of you worried you’d miss the thunder.

Unable to help yourself, you crouched low and ever so gently brushed his hair back from his forehead, adoring the little whistles that escaped his parted lips with each breath. He didn’t stir at your touch, sound asleep. Whatever activity he had busied himself with today must have really tired him out. You decided you’d make him a cup of tea as well, and maybe when he woke, you’d invite him to share it with you in your room.

You pulled the blanket up over him and padded excitedly down to the kitchen.

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A draft of cold air blew through the vent right next to Rafe’s head, stirring him awake. He groaned immediately, his hip bone digging painfully into the hard floor. It took him a full minute after sitting up and rubbing his eyes to realize where he was. Then it all came back at once, in flashes of you. Your eyes met his as you let your hair down, took your clothes off, climbed into bed, bid him goodnight and he - shit. He’d actually fallen asleep on the floor.

Rafe scrambled to his feet, embarrassment washing over him, and pain from the uncomfortable way his body had been twisted shooting up his spine. He turned slowly to see that at some point, your door had been opened just a crack. Excitement rushed through him, maybe he was reaching a bit, maybe he was delusional, but could opening the door have been your silent invitation for him to come back in?

Hesitantly, he reached out and pushed the door open a smidge further. His excitement dwindled when he saw that your bed was empty. He checked his phone, it was 3:22 am. Where could you possibly have gone at 3:22 am?

When five minutes passed, then ten, and you still hadn’t returned, he gave in to his greatest concern; that you were sleeping in someone else’s room. And even worse, that in your quest to find someone else to spend your night with, you’d stepped right over him. It was a knee-jerk reaction, but he didn’t want to wait around to find out if his theory was true.

He left the pillow and blanket behind, dragging his feet as he ambled down to the den.

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In the dim light of the kitchen stove, you boiled a kettle of hot water, quick to turn off the burner when it squealed with steam, afraid to wake up the whole house. While you waited for your tea to steep, you meandered out to the patio, picking up the furniture that had been strewn about and inhaling the crisp sea air. The hours after a big storm were always your favorite in the Outer Banks, Florida’s shore proved to be just as peaceful. Cast in darkness, you pulled your arms around yourself and looked at the stars.

After a few minutes, you returned to the kitchen, but the light above the stove had been mysteriously turned off. You smiled to yourself as you ascended the stairs carefully, carrying two mugs of hot tea, excited to tell Rafe your new theory that there was a ghost in the kitchen.

But when you got to your room, he was nowhere to be found. He’d left the crumpled pillow and bunched up blanket behind, assuring you that he really had been there just a few minutes ago, you hadn’t imagined it. Your heart dropped. Maybe he regretted falling asleep outside your room, maybe he was annoyed that you’d pulled the blanket over him like a child.

You suddenly felt stupid for bringing him tea, for thinking he’d wake with a sleepy smile and thank you for the gesture. You brought the tea to the bathroom sink and poured it down the drain, steam clouding the mirror as you looked back at yourself with shame. Of course he’d left. It was you, why would he stay?

Tears sprang from your eyes with no warning, and you were overwhelmed with the need to hug your sister.

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Carter slept soundly in her room, which was nearly identical to yours, aside from the piles of clothes and clutter she’d managed to accumulate in the three days you’d been here. Her room in your childhood home always looked like a bomb had gone off. You smiled affectionately as you climbed over the mountains of stuff. Her room was even colder than yours, so you reached around in the dark until you felt a large hoodie and pulled it over your head. 

She stirred as you got comfy under her covers, opening her eyes just enough to make out the fuzzy shape of you in the darkness.

“Y’okay?” She yawned.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Just missed ya.”

“Do you need to talk?” She attempted to sit up and look at you, trying to say something else, but you shushed her and guided her to lay back down.

Without argument, she snuggled into your side. With her calming presence so close, you finally fell back asleep.

You awoke a few hours later with her eyes focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, Car,” you jumped. “That’s so creepy.”

“You just looked so peaceful,” she held up her phone, showing you that she’d snapped a picture of you sleeping with your cheek squished against the pillow and posted it on her Close Friends story.

“Lovely,” you groaned, shuffling to get comfortable again.

“Why’d you come in here?” She asked.

“Sorry I woke you up.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she assured you. “You can always come find me. You just looked kind of upset when you did.”

With a sigh, you turned to lay on your side, facing her.

Growing up, you’d have sleepovers in each other’s rooms all the time, laying in each other’s beds just like you were now, chatting and laughing until your mom came in and yelled at you to go to sleep. 

Right now, recreating your favorite childhood memory, was the happiest you had been all week.

“Some…things happened last night,” you told her reluctantly.

If she wasn’t awake before, she sure was now.

“Omg, some Tom things?”

“Kind of.”

“Uh-oh, what does that mean?”

“Nothing too bad, just kinda…weird,” you looked away from her, and she could tell something was off.

“Okay?” she said curiously. “You’re making me nervous.”

You took a deep breath and dove into the whole story. She had fallen asleep early in the movie and didn’t see how you cuddled up with Tom, so you started there. Her initial excitement at that part of the story quickly turned into outrage when you told her about the moment on the stairs.

“Wait, he was like, pushy?” She gasped. “Eww, I hate that!”

“I mean I guess he technically didn’t do anything, but it was his tone, ya know?” You explained. “Like he could’ve pretended to be fine sleeping on the couch to make it less awkward. Rafe didn’t seem to mind the idea...”

“Hold on, rewind. Rafe? Where does Rafe come into this?” She stopped you.

“Oh,” you swallowed. You hadn’t thought through how to tell her that part of the story. “He was down there when it all happened. And then his room was flooded so I gave him some bedding and…”

Part of you wanted to tell her everything; the way you’d felt like you were on the brink of starting something with him, and how you shut right back down when you saw that he’d left his spot outside your room so abruptly. The problem was, even though you knew you should, if you told Carter that Rafe had hurt your feelings again, she’d go off on him and it would only add gasoline to the fire of their rivalry. You were still hanging on to a tiny thread of hope, not really in the mood for a Classic Carter Rant pointing out all the reasons you shouldn’t be.

“...and then he slept on the couch.”

She nodded, “Oh. Well, did he say anything about Tom?”

“No,” you were grateful to get back to telling the truth. “He just asked if I was okay.”

“That was nice of him, I guess,” she conceded.

“You and Topper seemed pretty cozy last night,” you brought up, eager to change the subject before she asked more questions about Rafe.

“We’re always like that,” she waved you off.

“Does he always carry you to bed though?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged.

The way you narrowed your eyes at her, she knew you weren’t buying her indifference.

“Ughhh what?” She groaned, pulling a pillow over her face to hide her blush.

“You and him,” you pulled the pillow from her face, “it’s for real this time.”

Carter huffed a dramatic exhale and stared up at the ceiling.

“I mean, you know how it is with him. It’s not, like, real.” You couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince you, or herself.

“Maybe it should be,” you said softly. “You’re not seventeen anymore, Car. Maybe it’s time for something real.”

She considered your words, scrunching her lips to the side, chewing on her inner cheek. 

It must be getting serious, you thought, she’s never been quiet this long.

Like she could read your mind, she sat up suddenly, shaking the emotion off her face before reaching her arms above her in a theatrical stretch.

“Doesn’t matter,” she explained. “‘Cause I’m not doing anything with him until he gives up this whole Team Rafe thing anyway.”

“This whole what?” You sat up next to her, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Some dumb plan he’s trying. He thinks you and Rafe belong together or some bullshit,” she rolled her eyes.

Your mind raced. It made sense, thinking through Topper’s actions the past few days - the grocery store trip, the beer pong ruse, the looks between him and Rafe everytime you entered the room. The question was, did Rafe know that Topper was trying to get you two together? And more importantly, was he trying, too?

You snapped back to reality when you noticed Carter studying you, picking up on how you were suddenly flushed and nervous.

“Which is ridiculous, right?” She prompted you. 

“Y-yeah,” you mustered up as much certainty as you could manage.

“Right,” she agreed with herself, “so Topper better drop it soon.”

“Why, so I can be with Tom?”

“Ugh no, Team Tom is dead. RIP Team Tom.”

You laughed, “so if you’re not Team Tom, and you’re not Team Rafe, who-”

You didn’t even have to finish the question.

“Team you,” she said. “Always.”

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When you and Carter emerged from her room, you could already hear the chatter of everyone in the kitchen, making you immediately nervous to see Rafe. You tried to think of something clever to say to him, like a shield protecting you in case he approached you first.

“Nice sweatshirt,” Carter laughed.

“Huh?” you asked. Before you thought to look down and see what she meant, the door at the far end of the hall opened, and Tom stumbled out. This was the latest he’d woken up all week, usually beating everyone else to the sunrise and going on a run.

“Sleep well?” Carter asked him in a sing-songy, fake-nice voice.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay, I make a mean cup of coffee,” you said, in an actually-nice voice, trying to soothe the tension.

“Said I slept fine,” he grumbled back, not even meeting your eyes as he turned to descend the stairs.

“Wow,” Carter mouthed to you silently as you both made to follow him down to the kitchen. 

As you took the first step, Carter’s phone rang in the distance, you recognized it by the same ringtone she’d had since middle school.

“Be right back,” she told you, turning to get her phone from her room and leaving you to walk down the steps after Tom.

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Rafe poured himself another cup of coffee, stretching to work out the tension in his back from the uncomfortable couch cushions.

He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. All together he must’ve only gotten three or four hours. Most of the night was spent lying awake in the den, wondering if just a few feet above him you were in Tom’s bed. He pictured you laughing with your head on his chest, telling him about how stupid Rafe looked curled up on the floor like a child. He’d tried a few shots of whiskey to push the shame out of his mind and lull him to sleep, but it only proved to be nightmare-fuel.

As he downed the coffee like it was medicine, he turned to see the exact sight he had the nightmares about.

You came down the stairs with Tom, both of you with messy bedhead and groggy eyes, clearly not much sleep had happened. The cherry on top to his torment? You were wearing an oversized, men’s U of F hoodie that he could only assume belonged to your new boyfriend.

It was like his heart was digging its own grave, hopping into the dirt and calling up to him, “you did this to yourself, buddy!”

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You felt Rafe’s eyes on you immediately, but you couldn’t meet them. Maybe you’d just return to your original plan of ignoring him, and hope the last three days would fade to black in time.

Topper got your attention as you sat at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Nice sweatshirt,” he nodded.

You looked down, finally taking in the clothes you’d pulled on in Carter’s pitch black room. It was a U of F sweatshirt, and if it was on Carter’s floor, it must’ve belonged to Topper.

“Thanks, I knitted it myself,” you joked back.

“Maybe you could knit me one, I seem to have lost mine,” Topper smiled back.

You knew he wouldn’t mind if you held onto it a little longer, probably liking that Carter felt so free to share his clothes and not hide the fact that she had them in the first place.  

Topper, Tom, and Kelce sat at the breakfast nook, falling into a heated conversation about U of F’s chances at the NCAA tournament next year. Rafe sat with them, but his mind couldn’t be farther from basketball.

Yesterday when you came downstairs, he barely looked at you. Today, he didn’t stop looking at you. You felt more naked than you did when you’d stripped your clothes in front of him. You took several long sips of your coffee just to have something to do. Your body was overheating, his gaze wrapping around you like a thick, fur coat.

Then the coffee was gone too soon, and you feared without the distraction, you might break down and look back at him. Hyper aware that he was watching, you hopped off the stool and walked to the coffee maker, the conversation at the nook entertaining enough to draw everyone else’s attention, but not his.

As you poured your second cup, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, feeling a warm, brooding presence close by.

“You must be tired, huh?” Rafe drawled, stepping to your side and leaning on the counter.

“At least I got to sleep in a bed,” you still didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, a couple of ‘em it seems.”

You frowned at that. His eyes zeroed in on the downward curve of your lips.

“How’d you know?”

He had no way of knowing you were just looking for him to explain why he left. You had no way of knowing that your vagueness just confirmed his biggest fear.

Rafe’s bottom lip jutted out as he nodded, muscles in his neck flexing with the motion. 

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, “just wonder if he knows you took your clothes off for me first.”

Whiplash. It always felt like whiplash with him. 

Mind going a million miles a minute, you tried to catch up to his words, stumbling over all the holes in his logic. When you finally got there, a slow, crooked grin bloomed on your face.

“So you were the ghost in the kitchen.”

That was so far from anything he thought you were going to say, he almost thought you were speaking a different language.

“Huh?” 

He was so gorgeously dumbfounded, it was delicious.

Puzzle pieces fell perfectly into place, the story of last night becoming clear in your mind. Rafe had woken up and looked for you in your bed, when he didn’t find you he assumed you were with Tom. And now, Rafe Cameron was jealous, for you. Maybe it was wrong, but after fifteen years of patient, unrequited love, you thought you deserved five minutes to mess with him.

“Nothing,” you sipped your coffee with a smirk, looking up at him through your lashes, making him wait. A long sip and a satisfied smack of your lips and finally, “so you saw my bed empty and put it all together, huh? You figured I slept with Tom.”

“Didn’t you?” He wondered, almost too quietly, like he was asking himself.

“What if I did? What would you do then?”

It was a long, dense silence. Your eyes stayed steady on his, willing him wordlessly: Say it. Say you’re jealous. Say that you want me.

His eyes however, couldn’t land in one spot, like your face was an equation he needed desperately to solve. You smiled ever so slightly, admiring how hard he was working for the answer. It was a new look on him. But then, when he seemed to find it, his whole posture changed and your delight faded. He pulled away coldly, one brief action completely snuffing out the spark between you, crushing it under his foot for good measure.

“Nothing.”

And there you were again, falling off that cliff, more mad at yourself for letting him convince you to jump than you were at him for pulling back. Leopards don’t change their spots, gazelles should know better.

Carter finally came padding down the steps, eyeing you and Rafe briefly before finding Topper.

“Top, that guy finally called me back!” She announced excitedly.

“Jet skis?” He guessed.

“Three! Ours for the afternoon!”

“Let’s fucking go!” He stood from the table and gave her a high five. “Knew you could talk him into it.”

“Talk who into what?” Sabrina butted in.

“We were trying to find some place to rent jet skis,” Carter filled her in, tripping over her words in excitement. “But since it’s Memorial Day weekend everybody and their mother is here trying to rent jet skis so everywhere we asked was either completely booked or charging a bajillion dollars. But I talked this guy down to like half his original price.”

“You’re so gonna kick business school’s ass, babe,” Topper lauded her.

She was too happy with herself to scold him for the corny nickname.

“We gotta be ready in like, ten, though,” she informed him.

“Oh shit, okay who’s coming?” Topper rallied, pointing at each person as he said “Jet skis? Jet skis? Little Carter, jet skis?”

“I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna call me that,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.

“More like you demanded, but say yes to jet skis and we’ll have a deal,” he teased. 

He put his arm around Carter so casually as she looked to you with hopeful eyes. For a moment, you pictured them married, Topper being the older brother you always wanted, and always kinda had.

“Deal,” you smiled at them affectionately.

“Yay!” Carter clapped. “Okay so that makes three, we need three more people, so it’s two to a ski.”

“I’m down,” Tom raised his hand from the breakfast nook. Carter almost pretended she didn’t hear him, but reluctantly said “Okay, who else?”

“Rafey boy? Jet skis?” Topper urged him, looking at him with the same knowing eyes as when he asked him to be your beer pong partner. 

It occurred to you that Carter hadn’t had any time to tell Topper she’d switched to team anti-Tom, in his mind the game was still on. Which is probably why his face dropped so low when Rafe said, “I’ll pass.”

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Nothing.

He’d meant it as a gift, but based on the look on your face when he said it, it seemed you took it like a curse.

If you really wanted to be with someone else, chose someone else over him, what could he do but sit back and watch? He certainly had no grounds to tell you he wanted you, that opportunity had passed years ago. He’d bow out gracefully, for you.

Plus, the feeling of seeing you come down the stairs with Tom, in his sweatshirt, was debilitating. He had never been good at handling difficult feelings, and that moment was the worst he’d felt in a long time.

But then you’d looked up at him like that, and maybe even flirted with him, and sent his mind spinning about whether you had actually slept with Tom at all. 

Sensing the storm clouds brewing in Rafe’s head, Topper pulled him aside once everyone had left the kitchen.

“Yo dude, why aren’t you coming with us?” Topper asked him. “This whole thing was a way to get you two together. Alone on a jet ski? Man, that's your play!”

“Nah I don’t think she wants me to make a play, man,” Rafe sighed.

“What are you talking about? You two were just practically making out by the coffee pot,” Topper said.

“Yeah, she was telling me all about how she hooked up with Tom last night.”

Topper laughed at that, his face falling slowly when he realized Rafe was actually serious. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head adamantly. “Tom was in my room all night, he said Kelce snores.”

“She was wearing his fucking sweatshirt,” Rafe motioned mindlessly towards where you and Tom had come down the stairs, not letting himself indulge the twinge of hope he felt at Topper’s words.

“Bro,” Topper looked to the ceiling with an exasperated chuckle. “You’re down so bad.”

“It’s not fucking funny,” Rafe snapped.

“Oh my god, man, it was my sweatshirt.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, inspecting the statement for any dishonesty. When Topper’s sincerity didn’t waiver, his anger turned into warm, prickly embarrassment. He felt like an idiot, getting so worked up when he didn’t even have a fraction of the facts straight. The smugly amused look on your face at his blatant jealousy suddenly made so much more sense.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled, covering his shame with indifference, a classic Rafe Cameron move.

“What are you talking about?” Topper pushed. “You should be stoked. You saw them on the couch, she totally could’ve hooked up with him and didn’t.”

Rafe just shrugged, frustrating Topper further.

“Do you not want to get with her or something? Cause that’s fine but-”

“‘Course I do,” Rafe stopped him.

“Well you coulda fooled me,” Topper slapped his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Dude, this brooding shit isn’t getting you anywhere with her. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he heard himself say for the second time today.

“Y’know Rafe,” Topper shook his head, “I don’t think I’ll ever get you man.”

Join the fucking club, Rafe thought.

“Look, I’m gonna go jet skiing with our girls, you come join us when you come to your senses, okay?” 

With that and one final pat on the shoulder, Topper left Rafe alone in the kitchen, feeling like he needed something much stronger than coffee.

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The whole outing was doomed from the start. 

For such a flashy car, the interior of Topper’s Range Rover was far too small. Sabrina’s elbow nudged your arm as she dug frantically through her giant beach bag.

“Noooo I forgot sunscreen,” she whined. “I hate my life.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Tom has some,” you said playfully, trying to meet his eye.

“I don’t, sorry,” he shut you down without so much as a friendly glance.

You caught Carter’s eyes in the rear view mirror, both incredulous. He was gonna act cold towards you? The fucking nerve. Carter clearly shared your thoughts, eyebrows knit with rage as she scanned the back seat in the mirror. Then her eyes went wide and she reached out to grab Topper’s non-driving arm.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed. “We forgot Kelce.”

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There was this one day, in the Fall of his senior year, that Rafe still thinks about all the time. 

You were driving him home from practice, as you so often did, and the sun was starting to set earlier, the last drops of summer fading away into a cool autumn. You had the windows rolled down, which he knew you’d been waiting to do for months, loving the chill in the air. The sunset was casting a glow through the window, and you squinted in its orange glow as you sang along to a song on a CD you’d burned. You were the only one in the world Rafe knew that still listened to CDs. 

“Why don’t you just put a playlist on shuffle?”

“I like to know what’s coming next.”

As you drove, for reasons he couldn’t explain then and still didn’t quite understand now, he thought about marrying you. 

It was completely hypothetical, and almost not even romantic. It was ridiculous really, you were seventeen and eighteen, and he was busy planning for college and all the sorority girls he was gonna hook up with. But for a moment, the thought of being married to you was the only thing in the world that made sense to him.

His mind was a storm, raging like hell, all the fucking time. But that day, for the length of that one song, it went completely quiet. He saw it clear as day; you, fifteen years older, coming through the door of your shared house and bringing all that glorious quiet home to him.

Now he was pacing the still damp basement floor, wishing like hell he’d said anything other than “nothing.” Wishing he could grab you and make you understand. If you were with Tom he’d have no right to do anything, but he might still burn this whole fucking house down. The feelings he’d pushed down that day in your car finally sprang forward, and suddenly nothing in the world existed except for you.

And Kelce, who came rushing into the basement, interrupting his anxious thoughts.

“Rafe, bro, they fucking left me!” Kelce told him, breathless.

Rafe held back a laugh at the image of Kelce chasing the car down the street like a lost puppy.

“Can you give me a ride to the dock?” Kelce asked.

“No,” Rafe shook his head, making a quick decision. “But you can give me one.”

(chapter 5: part two)

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a/n: part two of this chapter tomorrow!! I am quite literally running out of the house to go to work, so I may fuck up the taglist sorry I will fix any errors ! gotta go bbys, you can snack on this 'til I get back xoxoxo

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[rinhaler]

step brother sukuna forcefully taking his stepsister's virginity <3 (with size difference)

sukuna has got me in the biggest chokehold and this weeks dub has not helped in the least long live ray chase

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, noncon, stepcest, creampie, use of 'good girl', virginity loss, vaginal sex, hair pulling, degradation, spanking, noncon photography.

words: 1.3k

“S-Sukuna?” you wake up, eyes fuzzy and the darkness not helping matters as you try and make out the shape of your step-brother in your doorway. He could be anyone, really, but the size of his silhouette gives him away. You roll over to check the time on your phone, grunting with displeasure when you see it’s only 3am.

He comes inside, stealthily, and he reeks of alcohol. You can smell him from your bed. And you feel blinded when he turns on the light, your retinas blown to hell as you try and adjust to the brightness.

You yelp as he sits on the mattress, and you sit up quickly.

“You’re a good girl,” he tells you, voice slurring slightly as he speaks. “Staying home tonight, good… good girl.”

You aren’t sure what to say, though you begin to worry he might vomit on your carpet. You hasten out of bed to grab the bin in the corner of your room, placing it between his legs. And he laughs at that, it’s just so… you.

“Some… whore… I don’t remember her name,” he sniffs, looking down at the bin before his red eyes hone in on you. “She was all over me tonight. But I pushed her away. Y’know why?”

“W-Why…” you ask, cautiously, your inner monologue telling you this is leading somewhere bad. You want to run, but you feel like your legs at being weighed down to your mattress.

“I thought, why fuck her? I don’t care about her. She’s easy. But you,” he continues. He kicks the bin away and he climbs onto your bed, crawling closer to you on all fours like a predator cornering it’s. prey. You try to escape, still weighed down with fear. But you could only get so far anyway. Your back meets with the headboard, and you know you’re trapped. “My sweet little sister. Are you sweet? Maybe you’re a whore like her.”

“Sukuna, p-please, I’ve never… I’ve never—”

“You’re real sweet.” he grins, pulling you against him until your noses touch. “Should have known you were a virgin. I hear you when you touch yourself sometimes, you never last long. You’ll prob’ly cum on my cock the minute I put it in.” he sneers, and in your panic he manages to flip you onto your stomach with ease.

“N-No, please, I don’t— you’re my b-brother!” you object, body freezing and turning limp as you realise you’re powerless to his advances. He doesn’t bother undressing you, he just pins your wrists above your head with one large palm. “S-Sukuna?”

“I’m your big brother, and I should be the first person to feel your cunt wrapped around my cock.” he answers you, unzipping his trousers and freeing his cock just enough to use against you. He moves your pyjama shorts into the crease of your thigh, and he can’t help but ogle your sopping flesh. “You’re wet, little girl. And no panties. You knew I was coming, didn’t you? Did all of this for me… how thoughtful.”

You cry, silently, as you realise there’s nothing you can say to stop this. He drags his thick cockhead up and down your folds before he practically stabs it into your entrance. You scream, but he yanks your hair and forces your face down into the pillows to silence you.

“Shut the fuck up.” he tells you. “You want this, I know you do.” he lies, though you don’t know if it’s for your benefit or his own. Each drag and rut into your heat is torture. It’s slow, tormenting, until he finds a steady rhythm against your resisting walls.

“Ah, ah!” you moan, your voice finally free as he gives you the chance to breathe. He snarls as he hears you, moaning like a slut as he defiles your virgin interior.

“Knew you’d like it, slut.” he laughs, picking up the pace as your needy whining encourages him. He lets your hands go, knowing you’ve given up on fighting him. His hands knead into the flesh of your ass, spanking you on occasion and forcing you to jolt back against him. He pulls your hair until your back is curved into an almost agonising arch.

“S-Sukuna! H-Hurts! Hurts s’much!”

“Is that why you’re moaning like a bitch in heat for me, hah?” he chides, spanking your ass as he continues bullying his cock into you. “Ya getting tighter around me, sister. Naughty girl…” he spanks you again and you can’t help but preen for him. You fucking hate yourself and you hate him for doing this to you.

You just can’t deny how good it feels.

“Y-You’ve always been so good,” he pants, stuttering slightly as he feels himself teetering on the edge of release. He grabs a fistful of your ass again and you can already feel how red and bruised it’s becoming. And you yelp as he inflicts a particular agonising spank onto your rear. “Tell me you love me.” he groans in your ear.

“I- I love you,” you don’t even hesitate, because you do. He’s your big brother, after all. How could you not love him, even in spite of this? “So good t’me, Sukuna, always s-so good.”

His eyes roll over white as he hears your words, it took all of his self-control to not cum in that instant. “Aren’t you p-recious,” he struggles, both of his hands dig into the fat of your hips, now. Your body collapsing forwards as he makes no effort to help you keep upright. It still hurts, but it’s an agony you’re willing to withstand for him. “Gonna be the first person to cum in this virgin cunt,” he grins, he wraps his arms around your waist as if he’s hugging you. Though you come to realise he’s just preventing any escape attempts you might make.

“No! Sukuna, n-no! You can’t.”

“Yeah, I can. ‘n you’re gonna let me because you’re a good girl,” he tells you, whispering directly into your ear as he feels his balls begin to tighten. “Only big brother’s get to cum here, got it? This little pussy was made for my cum.”

“N-N— ah! Hnng, fu-uck! Fuck!“ you moan, and Sukuna has lost any interest in forcing you to keep quiet. The damage is done, now. Even if your parents find out, it’s not like they can undo his handiwork, gifting his little sister with a pretty creampie.

He fucks into you until he blows his load. Your walls fill with white and you shudder from the contrast of your freezing body being stuffed full of his creamy white cum. He fucks it into you, deeply. And you don’t have the energy to object.

When he’s through, he pushes you off his length and you melt into a puddle on the mattress below. You feel your knee being forcibly bent in a bid to spread your legs open. Your pussy lips open deliciously and his sperm drips from your hole and down your little slit.

“Don’t move.” he tells you.

You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He pulls his phone from his back pocket, taking a series of photos of your lifeless form and drippy cunt. He smirks as he sifts through them all.

He’s sure he’ll find one that will make the perfect screensaver.

© 2023 rinhaler

[dreamersworldduh]

HIS HOME

• CLARK KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — To the world, Clark Kent is Superman—the invincible hero, Earth’s mightiest protector, and a symbol of hope and strength. He’s the one who soars through the skies, battles formidable enemies, and saves countless lives without a second thought. But to you, he’s simply Clark—the shy, kind-hearted farm boy from Smallville you’ve loved since high school.

WARNING! FLUFF. Suggestive Langauge.

WORDS! 10k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! - Here's a little fluff for my favorite farm boy, I recently watched the Superman teaser and got a little inspired.

The early morning sun began its slow, graceful ascent over the towering skyline of Metropolis, sending soft, golden rays spilling through the sheer, cream-colored curtains of Clark Kent’s cozy apartment. The delicate fabric diffused the light, casting a warm, ethereal glow across the room. The gentle illumination danced over the simple but thoughtfully chosen furnishings: a well-loved leather armchair tucked into the corner, a sturdy wooden bookshelf overflowing with novels and framed photos, and a vintage record player resting on a low cabinet—small tokens of a life built together.

Beneath a thick, plush comforter in the center of the room’s focal point—a spacious, inviting bed—Clark and his longtime boyfriend, Y/N, lay entwined in peaceful slumber. Their breaths rose and fell in a quiet, harmonious rhythm, filling the serene space with a sense of intimacy only shared by two souls deeply connected. The soft weight of the comforter enveloped them, shielding them from the crisp morning air that lingered just beyond the windowpane.

Though Y/N remained fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady, calming rhythm, Clark was already awake. His piercing blue eyes, usually sharp with focus and responsibility, now gleamed with tenderness as he quietly admired the man sleeping beside him. For a few precious moments, the weight of the world slipped away—no urgent headlines to chase, no distant cries for help demanding Superman’s strength—just the quiet stillness of their shared sanctuary.

Clark’s gaze lingered, tracing every familiar line and curve of Y/N’s face. His fingertips, rough from years of fighting battles no one else could, hovered just above Y/N’s skin, hesitant to disturb the peaceful spell. He followed the delicate slope of his jaw, the curve of his lips—soft and slightly upturned, as though he were dreaming of something sweet—and the dark, feathery lashes that rested gently against his cheeks. How many times had he memorized these details? How many mornings like this had he silently counted himself lucky?

Here, in this stolen moment before the world woke up, Clark was simply Clark—the man who had fallen in love with his best friend back in high school and never stopped. His heart swelled with the same overwhelming emotion he felt every time he realized he got to spend another day with the person who grounded him, made him laugh, and saw past the cape to the man beneath.

As the sun’s rays grew bolder, stretching farther into the room, the stillness was broken by the sudden, jarring beep of the alarm clock on the bedside table. Its sharp sound shattered the tranquility like glass meeting stone.

“Morning,” Clark whispered, his deep voice warm and soothing, rich with a love that couldn’t be contained. His hand gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s forehead, his touch as tender as the sunlight now spilling across the bed.

Y/N blinked slowly, his eyelashes fluttering. He shifted slightly beneath the thick, plush comforter, its weight a soothing barrier against the crisp morning air. He could feel the solid, steady warmth radiating from Clark’s body beside him, grounding him before he even opened his eyes fully. His fingers twitched reflexively, seeking out the comforting presence he knew was there.

When Y/N’s half-lidded gaze finally focused, the first thing he saw was Clark, lying on his side, already awake. His piercing blue eyes gleamed softly, filled with a quiet intensity that made Y/N’s heart ache in the best possible way. Clark’s expression was open, vulnerable, and utterly disarming—like he was seeing something precious he still couldn’t quite believe was real, even after all these years.

A sleepy, instinctive smile tugged at the corners of Y/N’s lips. He stretched slowly, luxuriating in the warmth of the bed and the quiet stillness that lingered in the room, allowing the peaceful moment to settle over him like a familiar melody. His fingers reached up lazily, brushing away a stray lock of hair from his face before his hand drifted down to rest gently on Clark’s chest.

The steady, reassuring thrum of Clark’s heartbeat pulsed beneath Y/N’s fingertips, calm and unwavering, like the rhythm of the earth itself. He let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing further as he nestled closer, resting his head against Clark’s broad shoulder. The fabric of Clark’s soft, well-worn T-shirt felt cool against his cheek, contrasting with the warmth radiating from his skin.

“Good morning,” Y/N murmured, his voice rough with sleep but laced with tenderness. His words were barely above a whisper, soft and warm like the first light of dawn filtering through the window. His hand idly traced slow, lazy patterns across Clark’s chest—small, unconscious shapes made in quiet affection.

Clark smiled, his hand moving with gentle certainty to rest on Y/N’s lower back, his fingertips drawing soothing circles through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt. His touch was familiar yet reverent, a silent promise etched into every small caress.

Y/N’s eyes flickered toward the faint glow spilling through the window, signaling the start of another day. The world outside slowly stirred to life, but inside their shared haven, time seemed suspended—just the two of them in a bubble of warmth and love that felt untouched by the outside world.

“What time is it?” Y/N asked softly, his voice still tinged with sleep and curiosity, though there was no urgency behind the question. His fingers continued their gentle, aimless tracing, not yet ready to break the fragile stillness of the moment.

With a reluctant glance, Clark shifted his eyes toward the worn alarm clock on the nightstand. Its glowing red numbers silently ticked forward, marking the steady march of time. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he registered the hour. “It’s 7:15,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, like a quiet breeze through the still room.

Y/N groaned playfully at the answer, dragging one hand down his face in mock exasperation before propping himself up on one elbow. His hair was delightfully tousled, a few stubborn strands falling across his forehead despite his half-hearted attempt to smooth them down. “We really need to get up,” he said, though the lack of conviction in his voice betrayed him. His fingers brushed lightly against Clark’s arm, lingering there as though reluctant to break the warmth of their embrace.

Before Y/N could move any further, Clark’s strong arms tightened around his waist with effortless ease, pulling him back down into the secure circle of his embrace. His hold was firm yet tender, a perfect blend of strength and comfort, silently promising that he wasn’t ready to let Y/N go just yet.

“Not yet,” Clark whispered, his voice soft but resolute, filled with quiet intensity. His piercing blue eyes met Y/N’s with such tenderness that it made Y/N’s breath hitch for a moment. There was something profound in that gaze, something unspoken yet unmistakably clear—love, deep and unyielding.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward in mild amusement despite the way his heart seemed to swell in his chest. “Clark, we really should—”

“Do you know what today is?” Clark interrupted gently, his tone playful but tinged with something deeper—something meaningful. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his expression equal parts teasing and expectant.

Y/N blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden change in conversation, before a quiet laugh bubbled up from his chest. He let his forehead rest gently against Clark’s for a moment, savoring the warmth of their closeness, before pulling back just far enough to meet his eyes again.

“Of course I know,” Y/N replied softly, his voice steady but colored with affection. “It’s our anniversary.”

Clark’s smile widened, his eyes shimmering with something unmistakably radiant, though there was still a spark of playfulness there. He shook his head slightly, brushing his thumb tenderly over Y/N’s cheek, letting his fingers trail gently down to his jawline. His touch was reverent, as if the moment itself were fragile and precious.

“Not just any anniversary,” Clark corrected, his voice dipping lower, resonant with emotion. “It’s our ten-year anniversary.” His expression shifted into something more serious, almost reverent, as though the weight of a decade spent together was something sacred—something he still couldn’t quite believe he was lucky enough to have.

Y/N’s eyes widened briefly, a flicker of surprise softening into something far deeper, warmer. His lips parted as if to respond, but instead, he simply cupped Clark’s face with both hands, his thumbs tracing gentle, familiar lines along his jaw. His touch was slow, deliberate—a silent answer filled with love and devotion.

“Ten years,” Y/N echoed, letting the words hang between them like a whispered vow. His voice was quiet but steady, thick with emotion. “I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

Clark’s expression softened further, his smile turning just a little more playful as he leaned forward, pressing a lingering, feather-light kiss to Y/N’s forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and reassuring, before pulling back just enough to meet Y/N’s gaze again.

“And I’m not letting you out of this bed until we properly celebrate…” Clark whispered, his voice low and teasing but laced with unmistakable sincerity. His arms tightened just a fraction, drawing Y/N even closer. “…Starting right now.”

Y/N laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with both affection and amusement. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice light but affectionate, fingers still tracing slow, loving patterns across Clark’s chest.

Clark only smiled, leaning in to press another kiss—this time soft and lingering—against Y/N’s lips, sealing the promise between them with quiet certainty.

Y/N pulled away, letting out a soft breathy laugh, his lips curving into a playful smirk as he rested his hand gently on Clark’s chest. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel the steady, familiar rhythm of Clark’s heartbeat—strong, unyielding, and comforting in a way that felt like home. His fingers absently traced small, lazy circles over the fabric of Clark’s worn T-shirt, savoring the warmth radiating from his skin.

His eyes sparkled with affection, though there was a teasing edge in his voice as he arched an eyebrow. “Clark,” he murmured, his tone light but laced with mock sternness, “if we celebrate right now, neither one of us is going to make it to work on time.”

Clark chuckled, his deep, resonant laugh filling the room like a warm embrace. It was the kind of laugh that made Y/N’s heart swell, as familiar and comforting as the dawn’s first light. His smile widened into that boyish, slightly mischievous grin Y/N had fallen in love with all those years ago—a grin that still made his knees weak even after a decade together.

“You make a compelling point,” Clark admitted with mock seriousness, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him. His gaze softened as he took in every beloved detail of Y/N’s face—the curve of his cheek, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his lips quirked in that teasing smile that always left Clark feeling utterly captivated.

Before Y/N could fire back with a witty retort, Clark moved with effortless grace, gently shifting his weight as he rolled over, pinning Y/N beneath him in one fluid motion. His strong arms braced on either side of Y/N’s head, caging him in—but his touch was tender, protective, filled with nothing but love. Y/N gasped softly in surprise, though his eyes gleamed with amusement and affection.

Clark leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart, his breath warm against Y/N’s skin. His gaze never wavered, tracing every familiar feature with reverence, as though memorizing them all over again.

“I guess I could try to be responsible…” Clark whispered, his voice dropping into that low, velvety tone that always sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, “…but where’s the fun in that?”

Before Y/N could respond—or even fully process the words—Clark dipped his head and captured his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His mouth moved with unhurried purpose, savoring the connection as though time itself had ceased to matter. The kiss was deep but tender, filled with emotion that words could never quite capture.

Y/N’s breath hitched as Clark’s warm lips trailed away from his, leaving a path of feather-light kisses along his jawline. Clark’s mouth lingered just below Y/N’s ear—his most sensitive spot—his breath sending pleasant tingles down his spine. His lips brushed gently against Y/N’s neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that ignited a warmth deep within him.

A quiet, breathless laugh escaped Y/N’s lips as he arched into Clark’s touch, threading his fingers through Clark’s thick, dark hair. He tugged gently, earning a soft, pleased hum from Clark that resonated against his skin. “You’re impossible,” Y/N whispered, though his voice trembled with love, his words holding no real bite.

Clark pulled back just enough to meet Y/N’s gaze, his expression soft but still tinged with playful defiance. His piercing blue eyes sparkled with warmth, love, and something far deeper—something timeless. “Ten years,” he murmured, brushing his thumb gently across Y/N’s cheek, his touch reverent and tender. “I think we’ve earned a little celebration… even if we’re a bit late.”

Y/N laughed again, shaking his head in mock exasperation, though he made no effort to move away—he never could when Clark held him like this, when he looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. His heart swelled with overwhelming affection, threatening to burst from the sheer intensity of it all.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Y/N whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion as he tugged Clark down into another kiss—slow, deep, and full of all the love and devotion he couldn’t put into words.

Clark’s grin widened against Y/N’s lips, his expression radiating pure joy. “I know,” he whispered playfully, echoing the familiar words that had been exchanged between them countless times—but now, they held a deeper, more profound meaning.

In that moment, nothing else existed—no alarms, no deadlines, no responsibilities. Just the quiet, steady rhythm of their shared breath, the warmth of their intertwined bodies, and a love that had endured a decade and promised to last a lifetime.

By 8:15 a.m., the quiet intimacy of the early morning had dissolved into the familiar rhythm of Clark and Y/N’s weekday routine. The warmth of their shared bed now felt like a distant memory as they moved through their cozy apartment with practiced ease, the comfortable chaos of a typical workday morning unfolding around them.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the crisp aroma of toasted bread and the faint trace of Clark’s cologne lingering in the hallway. The kitchen was alive with quiet energy—drawers opening, shoes being slipped on, phones buzzing with notifications. The distant hum of Metropolis traffic outside was a constant, blending into the comforting sounds of home.

Clark stood at the kitchen counter, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie still undone around his neck. He poured steaming coffee into two familiar mugs—one emblazoned with the bold “Daily Planet” logo, and the other featuring a playful “World’s Best Partner” design, a sentimental gift from Y/N on their fifth anniversary. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, steady and sure, as though even the smallest tasks carried a quiet significance in their shared life.

“Babe, have you seen my laptop charger?” Y/N’s voice called from the bedroom, tinged with mild urgency. His words were punctuated by the sound of drawers sliding open and the soft rustle of clothes being shifted around.

Clark couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he set the coffee mugs on the kitchen table. “Check the shelf by the desk!” he called back, his voice warm and familiar. In one smooth motion, he looped his tie into a perfect Windsor knot, fingers moving with expert precision—years of balancing superhero duties and tight Daily Planet deadlines had honed his multitasking skills to near perfection.

Moments later, Y/N emerged from the bedroom, holding his laptop charger triumphantly like a prize. His collar was only half-buttoned, his sleeves still unrolled, but he already looked every bit the driven professional Clark had admired from the moment they’d worked side by side as young interns. His hair was slightly tousled, still settling after a rushed comb-through, making him impossibly endearing.

“Found it!” Y/N announced with mock triumph, flashing Clark a cheeky grin as he hurried toward the kitchen. He grabbed his “World’s Best Partner” mug from the table and took a long, appreciative sip, savoring the warmth that seeped into his fingertips. A contented sigh escaped his lips. “You’re a lifesaver,” he said with sincere gratitude, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Clark smirked, leaning casually against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “I try,” he teased lightly, though his gaze softened as he watched Y/N sip his coffee, soaking in the familiar comfort of their shared morning ritual. It was in these small, ordinary moments that Clark felt the fullness of their life together—steady, warm, real.

Y/N gave a quick glance at the microwave clock—8:17 a.m. They were cutting it close but still technically on time if they hustled. He grabbed his well-worn messenger bag from the back of a kitchen chair and slung it over his shoulder with practiced ease. “Let’s roll,” he said with determined resolve, already mentally running through the day’s to-do list.

Just as Y/N reached for the door, Clark’s fingers gently brushed against his wrist, halting him with a soft touch. “Hey,” Clark murmured, his voice lower now, edged with something deeper.

Y/N turned, brow raised in curious question. His expression softened as he met Clark’s gaze, recognizing the quiet emotion shimmering in those piercing blue eyes.

Clark’s smile shifted into something far more tender, his earlier playfulness replaced by sincerity. “Happy ten-year anniversary,” he whispered, his voice rich with meaning, as though he still couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to be standing there, sharing this life with the person he loved.

Y/N’s expression melted instantly, the rush of the morning forgotten. He leaned in, cradling Clark’s face gently in his hands, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. The world outside seemed to pause, leaving only the warmth of their shared breath and the quiet rhythm of their hearts beating in sync.

“Happy anniversary,” Y/N whispered back, his tone filled with unwavering love. His fingers lingered against Clark’s jaw for just a moment longer, as though reluctant to let the moment end.

With one last shared smile—intimate, knowing—they turned toward the door, ready to face whatever challenges the bustling city had in store. Whatever the day might bring, they would face it together—just as they always had, and always would.

Clark stepped through the revolving doors of the bustling Daily Planet building, adjusting his signature glasses out of habit as he took in the familiar symphony of the newsroom’s organized chaos. The air buzzed with the electric energy of a new workday—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and conversations overlapping as reporters exchanged leads and debated headlines. The faint scent of fresh ink and brewed coffee lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the newsroom’s relentless pace.

A small, contented smile tugged at Clark’s lips as he strode across the polished marble floor, his polished shoes clicking softly against the tile. He felt right at home here, even after years of balancing the double life of award-winning journalist and Earth’s greatest protector. Still, even amid the familiar hustle, his mind lingered on the peaceful morning he’d shared with Y/N—the warmth of their shared coffee, the lingering kiss at the door, the whispered “Happy anniversary” that still echoed softly in his heart.

He was halfway to his desk when he found his path blocked—ambushed, really—by two familiar figures: Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, his closest friends and trusted partners in journalistic crime. Lois stood with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised in playful expectation, while Jimmy hovered just behind her, his ever-present camera slung over his shoulder like he was ready to document something groundbreaking.

“Alright, Kent,” Lois announced with a sly smirk, tilting her head in that knowing way she always did when she was on the verge of uncovering something. “What’s the plan?”

Clark blinked, momentarily thrown off by her question. He adjusted his glasses again, a reflex whenever he felt caught off guard. “Plan? What plan?” he asked, brow furrowing in genuine confusion.

Jimmy let out an exaggerated scoff, stepping forward with wide-eyed disbelief. “The plan, Clark!” he urged dramatically. “Don’t tell me you forgot! It’s your ten-year anniversary with Y/N today!”

Clark’s eyes widened ever so slightly, though he quickly schooled his expression into one of practiced calm. “Wait—how do you two know about that?” he asked, his voice tinged with mild suspicion but tempered by curiosity.

Lois rolled her eyes, her smirk widening. “Please,” she said with mock disdain. “I’m a journalist, Clark. It’s literally my job to know things.”

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m, like, super observant. You’ve had that goofy, ‘I’m-so-in-love’ look plastered all over your face for days.” He gestured dramatically around the newsroom. “It’s practically headline news at this point.”

Clark couldn’t help but chuckle despite himself, shaking his head. “You two are unbelievable.”

Lois stepped closer, her sharp eyes softening just a fraction, though the spark of mischief never left. “Seriously, though,” she said with a bit more warmth, “you do have something special planned, right? Ten years isn’t just any anniversary.”

For a brief moment, Clark’s mind drifted to the small velvet box tucked securely in the inner pocket of his coat—the one he’d been carefully keeping out of sight all morning. The memory of its weight was reassuring, grounding him in the quiet certainty of what the evening would bring.

“Let’s just say…” Clark began slowly, his lips curving into a knowing smile, “…I might have a few surprises up my sleeve.”

Jimmy let out a dramatic gasp, clearly intrigued, while Lois arched an approving eyebrow. “Now this is a story I’m dying to see unfold,” she quipped, already imagining the possibilities.

Clark chuckled, brushing past them toward his desk. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he called over his shoulder. “No spoilers… even for journalists.”

Lois smirked knowingly while Jimmy fist-pumped in silent excitement, already speculating wildly about what Clark’s “surprise” might be. The newsroom’s steady hum continued around them, deadlines and breaking news still demanding attention—but for a brief moment, Clark allowed himself to savor the quiet anticipation bubbling within him.

Tonight would be more than just a milestone—it would be the start of something even greater. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Y/N’s face when he finally revealed what he’d been planning for weeks… and slipped that ring onto his finger.

The day carried on as usual—but for Clark, the countdown to that perfect, long-awaited moment had already begun.

The streets of Metropolis teemed with life far below as Superman soared effortlessly through the crisp morning sky, his iconic red cape billowing behind him like a banner of hope. The sharp edges of the city’s glass-and-steel skyline glinted in the morning sun, casting streaks of light across the bustling streets below. His keen eyes swept across the familiar cityscape, ever watchful, always ready.

The city pulsed with its usual symphony—honking car horns, hurried conversations, the rhythmic clang of construction equipment, and the distant chatter of morning radio shows drifting from open windows. The steady thrum of Metropolis’ indomitable spirit surrounded him, grounding him even as he hovered hundreds of feet above. To anyone else, it might have been overwhelming—chaotic—but to Clark, it was the heartbeat of home.

He had just finished assisting the Metropolis Fire Department with a hazardous warehouse fire down by the docks. The acrid scent of smoke still clung faintly to his uniform, though the crisis was long resolved. He allowed himself a rare moment of pause, suspended in the sky, arms crossed, his cape trailing like a protective shield over the city he’d sworn to protect.

Then something familiar tugged at his senses.

Cutting through the tangled web of urban noise, a voice—distinct, beloved—filtered clearly into his super-sensitive hearing.

Y/N’s voice.

Clark’s breath hitched as he stilled mid-air, hanging weightless against the wind. His sharp focus zeroed in instantly, his hearing filtering out the static of the city until only that familiar voice remained. His heart clenched with longing and quiet relief.

He traced the sound to the upper floors of a gleaming high-rise in the heart of downtown—the unmistakable, foreboding silhouette of LexCorp Tower, its sharp edges and mirrored surface reflecting the cold morning light. The sight alone made his jaw tighten, tension rippling through his frame. No matter how many years passed, Lex Luthor’s presence in Metropolis remained a constant thorn in his side.

But then Y/N spoke again, and Clark’s protective instincts flared.

“Yes, Mr. Luthor… I’ll have that report on your desk by noon,” Y/N said, his voice steady and professional, though Clark detected the faintest trace of exhaustion beneath his practiced tone. “I’ve already confirmed the logistics team’s data… Yes, sir, I’m double-checking it now.”

Clark exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. He could see Y/N in his mind’s eye—sitting at his immaculately organized desk, surrounded by gleaming tech and cool, polished steel decor, the harsh blue glow of holographic displays casting soft light over his face. His back would be straight, his sharp, tailored blazer fitting perfectly across his shoulders—a detail Y/N always insisted was necessary to “look the part.”

Clark’s chest warmed with quiet pride. Despite his unease about LexCorp—a company built on moral ambiguity and dangerous ambition—he knew Y/N. Driven, capable, relentless in his pursuit of success, yet unfailingly kind. He trusted Y/N implicitly.

Lex Luthor, on the other hand…

Clark frowned, his protective instincts prickling. Even now, he couldn’t entirely banish the concern that came with knowing Y/N worked within arm’s reach of one of the world’s most dangerous men. He strained to listen for anything out of place—any shift in Y/N’s voice, any hint of tension—but all he heard was focused professionalism.

Then, suddenly, Y/N’s voice softened—barely above a murmur—as though he believed himself to be completely alone. His tone turned warmer, more personal.

“…And maybe after work, I can figure out how to surprise you for once, Clark…”

Clark’s breath caught.

There was the faint rustling of papers, followed by a quiet, almost wistful chuckle that tugged at his heart.

“Ten years… Can you believe it?” Y/N whispered, almost as though speaking only to himself.

Clark’s expression melted into something achingly tender, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest that even the cold steel of LexCorp couldn’t diminish. For just a moment, he allowed himself this stolen glimpse into Y/N’s day—a reminder of the life they’d built together, of love that had endured through battles, secrets, and the challenges of his double life.

He hovered there, suspended in the stillness of the morning sky, wrapped in the memory of Y/N’s voice and the unspoken promise threaded through those words.

Then, from several blocks away, a sudden wail of police sirens split the air, snapping him back to reality. His gaze hardened instantly, his senses shifting back into sharp focus. The city needed him again.

But before he shot off into the wind, he cast one final, lingering glance toward the gleaming spire of LexCorp Tower, his voice a whispered promise meant only for the wind to carry:

“I love you, too.”

And then, in a streak of red and blue, he vanished into the sky—ready to protect the city he called home, and the man he loved more than anything.

The familiar creak of the front door closing echoed softly through the stillness of the cozy apartment. Clark Kent stepped inside, his broad shoulders relaxing as he shrugged off his thick, charcoal-gray overcoat. He smoothed out its fabric with practiced care before hanging it on the brass hook by the entryway, a small detail Y/N had insisted on installing when they first moved in together. The air smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla from a gently flickering candle on the bookshelf, mixing with the warm, inviting scent of home-cooked meals from memories past.

The apartment was bathed in a soft, golden glow from the dimmed overhead lights and the warm sparkle of fairy lights strung along the window. Framed photographs of shared adventures lined the walls—a snapshot from their first vacation, candid moments from friends’ weddings, and even a picture of Clark holding a grinning Y/N on his shoulders at a summer fair.

But tonight wasn’t just another ordinary evening. It was their ten-year anniversary, a milestone woven with laughter, challenges, and countless moments of quiet, steadfast love. Tonight, Clark intended to mark that journey in a way neither of them would ever forget.

With steady deliberation, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and carefully retrieved a small, velvet-covered box. He set it down gently on the cool marble countertop, as though the magnitude of what it held weighed heavier than any feat he had ever accomplished as Superman. His thumb brushed over the soft fabric of the box, tracing its edges with reverence. Inside rested a simple, timeless ring—delicate yet strong, much like the bond he shared with Y/N. He had spent months searching for the perfect piece, envisioning the way it would look on Y/N’s finger every step of the way.

Drawing a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and gently closed the box. The evening wasn’t going to prepare itself. He rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his strong forearms, and turned toward the kitchen. Fresh ingredients were laid out precisely as he had planned—Y/N’s favorite meal, every detail considered down to the garnish.

Moments later, Clark turned his attention to the living room, the heart of their shared memories. It was a space shaped by comfort and familiarity, where countless evenings had been spent wrapped in warmth and laughter. He moved with quiet purpose, selecting a small stack of their favorite movies from the shelf—classic comedies that never failed to make them laugh, heartfelt dramas that always left them holding each other a little tighter, and those feel-good romances they could recite line for line. He placed the DVDs neatly on the rustic wooden coffee table, arranging them just so, knowing Y/N would smile the moment they saw them.

Draped over the back of their well-loved couch was a thick, cozy blanket—soft, worn, and infused with memories of lazy Sundays and late-night cuddles. He smoothed out its folds, making sure it was within easy reach for when the night wound down, when dinner was just a memory, and only the quiet comfort of each other remained. A few plump, overstuffed pillows rested at each end of the couch, inviting and familiar.

The soft glow of the fairy lights strung along the window added a magical warmth to the room, their tiny bulbs twinkling like distant stars. On the coffee table, he placed a wooden tray holding two mugs—one ready for hot cocoa, the other for Y/N’s favorite tea, complete with a small jar of honey. A delicate ceramic bowl filled with chocolate-covered almonds—Y/N’s guilty pleasure—completed the thoughtful setup. Every detail was intentional, a reflection of the countless quiet nights they had shared in this very space.

But even as the living room felt ready, Clark couldn’t shake the sense that something was still missing.

He stepped back into the kitchen, enveloped once more by the inviting aroma of the special meal he’d worked so carefully to prepare. The rich scent of seared steak lingered in the air, mingling with the creamy, garlicky aroma of the mashed potatoes he’d whipped until they were impossibly smooth and buttery. The sautéed vegetables—green beans with a light char, caramelized baby carrots glistening with honey, and earthy mushrooms kissed with rosemary—were arranged in a serving dish, their vibrant colors promising comfort and warmth with every bite.

On the stovetop, the red wine sauce had reduced to perfection, its velvety richness gleaming as Clark gave it one last stir. The deep, complex fragrance of simmering shallots, garlic, and wine filled the room, tempting him to taste—but he resisted. This was for Y/N.

His gaze drifted to the marble countertop, where the decadent chocolate mousse cake he had picked up from their favorite bakery waited like the final act of a perfect evening. Its glossy, dark chocolate surface shimmered under the soft kitchen lights, adorned with delicate curls of bittersweet chocolate and a light dusting of powdered sugar. Plump, jewel-toned raspberries rested artfully around the edges, a splash of vibrant red against the dark richness of the cake.

Satisfied with the meal, Clark moved to the small dining table near the bay window. He tugged at the edges of the crisp white tablecloth, ensuring it lay perfectly smooth. Their best dinnerware gleamed in the soft light, paired with sparkling wine glasses and polished silverware arranged with precision. He folded two linen napkins into elegant triangles, placing them neatly by each plate.

At the center of the table sat a modest yet beautiful bouquet—soft blush roses, delicate white lilies, and fragrant sprigs of eucalyptus bound together with natural twine. Their gentle scent mingled with the meal’s intoxicating aromas, adding a romantic, timeless touch. Clark adjusted the bouquet slightly, ensuring it looked effortlessly perfect.

Finally, he lit three slender ivory candles in sleek, minimalist holders. Their warm, flickering flames cast a soft, golden glow across the table, their light shimmering off the delicate crystal and creating an atmosphere of quiet elegance.

With everything in place, Clark allowed himself a moment to pause. The apartment felt magical, transformed by love and intention. Yet his eyes inevitably returned to the small velvet-covered box still resting on the counter, its deep navy surface catching the candlelight like a secret waiting to be shared.

He stepped closer, brushing his thumb once again over its soft, textured fabric. Inside lay the ring—simple yet exquisitely crafted, timeless yet personal. He could still remember the moment he had found it, knowing instantly it was the one. Strong but delicate. Elegant yet enduring. Just like what they had built together.

He imagined Y/N’s face when he saw it—his wide-eyed surprise, the way his breath might hitch, the unmistakable light that would fill his eyes when he understood what Clark was asking. The thought made Clark usually steady hands tremble just a little.

It wasn’t about the meal, the setting, or even the ring.

It was about the ten years of shared memories, of challenges faced side by side, of whispered promises in the dark, and quiet mornings filled with warmth and love. It was about their story—one already filled with so much life and meaning—but with so much more yet to be written.

And tonight, Clark Kent was ready to ask Y/N to write the rest of that story with him—forever.

With dinner prepared, the apartment glowing with warmth, and every thoughtful detail in place, Clark found himself standing in front of the hallway mirror, tugging at the collar of his white dress shirt for what felt like the tenth time. His fingers smoothed the fabric, adjusting the top button, then pausing as he reconsidered, ultimately leaving it undone for a more relaxed look.

He straightened his tie, only to frown and pull it loose again. His reflection stared back, resolute but edged with vulnerability, a flicker of nerves in his usually steady blue eyes.

With a slow, measured breath, he adjusted his glasses—pointless, really, but the familiar motion gave his restless hands something to do. The thin frames rested perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though he still fiddled with them out of habit. He braced his palms against the edge of the dresser, leaning forward, forehead nearly touching the cool surface of the mirror.

“This is fine,” he murmured, voice low but firm, as though willing himself to believe it. “You’ve faced supervillains, alien invasions… even world-ending threats.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “This is just… one question.”

But this question mattered more than anything else he’d ever done.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself, and straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders back as if preparing for battle. His reflection stared back, still strong but undeniably human—vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“He’s already said yes… a thousand different ways over the past ten years,” Clark whispered, almost as though speaking the words aloud would steady his heart. “This is just… making it official.”

He ran a hand through his dark, slightly tousled hair, pushing it back in a way he knew Y/N liked. His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against his temple as he let out another breath, more controlled this time. He reached into the pocket of his dress pants and pulled out the small velvet box once again.

Flipping it open, he let his eyes rest on the ring inside—simple but elegant, timeless yet meaningful. He had chosen it with absolute certainty, picturing Y/N’s hand wearing it, imagining how it would feel to place it there himself. The thought made his chest tighten—not with fear, but with overwhelming love.

For a brief moment, the rest of the world faded away. There were no distant cries for help, no looming threats or urgent responsibilities. In this quiet space, there was only the promise of forever, contained in the small, glinting circle of gold resting in the velvet folds.

A soft, affectionate smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, chasing away the last traces of doubt. His voice, low but steady, broke the silence.

“You’ve got this, Kent.”

Just then, the familiar click of the front door unlocking echoed softly through the quiet apartment. His head snapped up, heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and joy.

Y/N was home.

Clark gently closed the ring box, slipping it back into his pocket with practiced care. His pulse quickened, but his hands were steady now. He smoothed his shirt one last time, inhaling deeply, letting the love he felt ground him.

This was the moment. The beginning of something new, built on ten years of shared memories, quiet mornings, and promises unspoken but always understood.

Y/N stepped inside of the apartment, already shrugging off his coat after a long, tiring day at work. He reached out automatically to flip the light switch, expecting the familiar glow of the overhead light—but paused, his fingers hovering in midair.

Something was different.

The apartment was already softly illuminated—not by the usual bright lights, but by the gentle, flickering glow of candles scattered throughout the living room and dining area. A delicate floral fragrance, light and fresh, mingled with the mouthwatering aroma of something savory and richly seasoned wafting from the kitchen. Y/N blinked, his eyes widening as he slowly took in the transformed space before him.

The usually simple, everyday dining table was unrecognizable—draped in a pristine white tablecloth that gleamed softly under the warm candlelight. Two polished wine glasses stood side by side, catching the soft light like tiny prisms, while their best silverware lay neatly arranged on elegant dinner plates. In the center of the table sat a beautifully arranged bouquet of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and eucalyptus sprigs woven together with thoughtful care. Their delicate petals glowed softly in the candlelight, their fragrance blending seamlessly with the warm, inviting smells of home-cooked food.

Y/N’s gaze drifted toward the kitchen, where a small serving tray waited, holding a carefully plated dinner beneath a gleaming silver cover. Steam still gently wafted from beneath the lid, hinting at something savory and delicious inside. The mouthwatering scent of garlic, herbs, and seared meat hung in the air, making his stomach growl despite the emotional tightness building in his chest.

He took a tentative step forward, feeling his breath hitch as he noticed the living room. There, on the rustic coffee table, was a familiar stack of their favorite movies—the ones they always watched on cozy nights in, when they just needed to be close. A thick, cozy blanket was neatly folded over the back of the couch, inviting and familiar, ready for when the night wound down. Everything was arranged with such intention, such thoughtfulness… such love.

Y/N pressed a trembling hand over his mouth, overwhelmed by the sheer care and intimacy behind every detail. His heart thudded against his ribs, pounding with disbelief and something deeper, something warmer. Was this really happening? Did Clark… do all of this?

Before he could fully process the scene, a quiet creak of the kitchen floorboards caught his attention. He turned slowly, his breath still uneven, and his gaze landed on Clark standing just a few steps away.

Clark’s hands rested loosely at his sides, fidgeting slightly—a rare crack in his usually steady composure—but his expression was soft, warm, and impossibly tender. His deep blue eyes held an intensity that stole Y/N’s breath—not the intensity of a hero prepared for battle, but of a man utterly, irrevocably in love.

“Clark… what is all this?” Y/N whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

Clark’s lips curved into a gentle, familiar smile—the kind that had always felt like home. His eyes shimmered with warmth, reflecting ten years of shared memories, quiet mornings, and late-night talks. “Happy anniversary,” he murmured, taking a slow, measured step closer.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, his gaze flickering from the candlelit table to the familiar stack of movies—and finally back to the man who had done all of this. The man he loved with every fiber of his being. “You… you did all this… for me?” His voice cracked, disbelief and affection tangling in his throat.

Clark’s smile widened just a fraction, his eyes softening even further. “For us,” he corrected gently, his voice steady but filled with quiet vulnerability.

Y/N felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his heart swelling so much it almost hurt. Every detail—the flowers, the meal, the movies, the candles—felt like a physical manifestation of the life they had built together. A life filled with love, warmth, and quiet, shared moments that meant everything.

His hands trembled as he reached for Clark, closing the space between them in a heartbeat. His arms wrapped tightly around Clark’s strong frame, pulling him into an embrace filled with every unspoken word he couldn’t seem to say. Clark held him just as fiercely, his face burying into Y/N’s shoulder, breathing him in like he was the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s breath hitched against Clark’s neck, a soft, broken sound of love and wonder. Neither of them moved for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, grounded in the familiarity and promise of what they shared.

In that moment, there was no world outside, no responsibilities, no distant cries for help—only them. Two hearts, intertwined and steady, standing at the edge of something new, something even deeper than what had come before.

Surrounded by the gentle glow of candlelight and the quiet warmth of home, Clark held Y/N tighter, silently promising that this—they—would always be his greatest adventure.

And tonight, their forever was just beginning.

The warm glow of candlelight flickered softly across the cozy apartment, casting gentle, golden light over every familiar surface. Y/N and Clark sat comfortably on the well-worn couch, plates balanced carefully on their laps while the familiar sounds of their favorite movie played quietly in the background. The soft crackle of the candles still burning on the dining table blended with the movie’s soundtrack, creating an atmosphere of warmth, intimacy, and quiet joy.

Clark had insisted on serving the meal himself, carrying each perfectly plated dish with the care of someone offering up something precious. The garlic-herb steak, creamy mashed potatoes, and perfectly sautéed vegetables looked like something from a five-star restaurant—but tasted even better. Each bite was rich, savory, and cooked exactly the way Y/N liked it.

“This is so good,” Y/N mumbled around another bite, eyes widening with genuine delight. “Seriously… did you take a secret cooking class or something? How do you always nail this?”

Clark chuckled, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish but clearly pleased. “I might’ve… practiced a little,” he admitted, his voice low and warm. “I just wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the quiet sincerity in Clark’s words. The love behind every carefully considered detail of the evening hit him all at once—the flowers, the candles, the dinner, the movies—all thoughtfully chosen, all crafted with so much care. He set his plate down on the coffee table, suddenly unable to focus on the food when something far more important was sitting right beside him.

Without a word, Y/N reached out and gently placed his hand over Clark’s, his fingertips tracing slow, familiar patterns across the back of Clark’s strong, calloused hand. The warmth of his skin was grounding, comforting, home.

“You are perfect,” Y/N whispered, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. “This whole night… the dinner, the movies, the candles… everything. It’s perfect.”

Clark’s breath caught, his eyes softening as he gently turned his hand to entwine their fingers together. His thumb traced slow, reassuring circles over Y/N’s knuckles, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” Y/N continued, his gaze never leaving Clark’s. “But you did. You always do… You always find a way to make me feel so loved.”

Clark’s breath hitched slightly, his fingers tightening just a little around Y/N’s hand. His voice was low but steady, full of quiet intensity. “You are loved… more than anything… more than I could ever say.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his heart pounding with affection so deep it felt impossible to contain. Slowly, he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against Clark’s, savoring the quiet, shared connection. In that small, still moment, surrounded by the warm glow of flickering candles and the familiar hum of their shared life, nothing else existed—only them.

“Thank you… for all of this,” Y/N whispered, his voice breaking just slightly. “For everything.”

Clark smiled softly, tilting his head just enough to brush his lips gently against Y/N’s in a tender, lingering kiss. It was slow, filled with all the love and devotion words could never fully express. His hand cupped Y/N’s cheek, fingers sliding into his hair as he deepened the kiss just enough to make the world fall away.

When they finally parted, their foreheads still resting together, Clark’s voice was barely above a whisper—but steady and sure.

“There’s still… one more thing.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard, curiosity sparking in his expression. “What do you mean?”

Clark’s hands trembled ever so slightly as he reached for Y/N’s, threading their fingers together with practiced ease, grounding himself in the familiar warmth of that touch. His heart pounded with a mixture of nerves and anticipation, but the feel of Y/N’s hand in his steadied him, like it always had.

“Come with me,” Clark whispered softly, his voice low but sure.

Y/N blinked in surprise but let Clark gently guide him off the couch and into the softly glowing living room. The flickering candlelight cast a warm halo around them, creating a setting that felt timeless, intimate, and entirely their own. Y/N’s expression shifted from curious to something deeper, something tender, as he felt the subtle tension in Clark’s usually steady grip.

Clark exhaled slowly, forcing himself to breathe, to be fully present in this moment he’d imagined countless times. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over Y/N’s knuckles—a silent reassurance for both of them. When he finally met Y/N’s gaze, his deep blue eyes shimmered with emotion—vulnerable but unwavering, filled with love so profound it left no room for doubt.

“Y/N…” Clark began, his voice trembling just enough to reveal how much this meant to him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say… something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his lips parting slightly in surprise, but he stayed quiet, his gaze steady, urging Clark to continue.

Clark tightened his hold ever so slightly, his hands enveloping Y/N’s like a protective barrier, keeping them both anchored in this moment. His voice grew steadier, though still thick with emotion.

“From the very first moment I saw you… back in high school… I knew,” Clark said softly, his eyes shining with memory and meaning. “I didn’t know exactly what ‘forever’ looked like back then… but I knew you were going to be someone important. The someone.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered, already brimming with unshed tears as the weight of Clark’s words settled over him.

“We’ve built this incredible life together,” Clark continued, his voice deepening with quiet intensity. “Through moves, jobs… everything life’s thrown at us. And through it all… I’ve known one thing with absolute certainty.” He swallowed hard, his lips quirking into the faintest, most affectionate smile. “I want to spend every day, every moment… with you.”

Y/N’s breath shuddered as a tear slipped free, trailing slowly down his cheek.

Clark’s eyes softened even further as he gently wiped the tear away with his thumb. “I thought about this night so many times… about what I’d say… but I kept coming back to something you said once.”

Y/N blinked, his brow furrowing faintly as he tried to recall.

“It was a long time ago… back when we first talked about marriage,” Clark murmured, his deep voice softening into something reverent, as if he were holding a fragile, cherished memory in his hands. His gaze lowered for a brief moment, lost in the weight of what he was about to say. When he looked back up, his eyes gleamed with something raw and unguarded—love, hope, and nostalgia woven together.

“‘Don’t marry me just because we’ve been together forever…’” he repeated, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he spoke the familiar words. “You said that to me.”

The memory hit Y/N like a crashing wave—vivid, intimate, and achingly familiar. It had been during one of those long, late-night talks when the world outside didn’t matter, and the future felt like a distant, untouchable dream. Y/N remembered the quiet stillness of that night, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating Clark’s thoughtful expression as they both lay tangled together, speaking from the heart without hesitation.

Clark’s warm fingers brushed gently over Y/N’s, grounding him in the present even as his words pulled him back to that deeply personal moment. His touch was familiar, steady, and reassuring—the same touch Y/N trusted through every joy, every storm, every uncertain tomorrow.

His voice softened even further, dipping into something more intimate, more earnest, as though he were speaking directly to your soul. “‘Marry me because you want to,’” he continued, his thumbs tracing slow, tender circles over the backs of Y/N’s hands. “‘Because you can’t see yourself with anyone else. Marry me… because you love me.’”

Y/N’s breath hitched as those words echoed through him, every syllable steeped in memory and meaning. They weren’t just words from the past—they were a promise him had once made without realizing how much they would come to define his future.

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, blurring the sight of Clark’s face, but Y/N could still see the love etched into every line, every tender curve of his expression. His gaze held Y/N’s with such fierce intensity that it felt like nothing else in the world existed—just the two of them, tethered by a shared history and an undeniable, enduring love.

Clark’s hands tightened around Y/N’s just slightly—not possessive, but grounding—anchoring them both in the weight of the present. His breath hitched as he whispered, “I never forgot those words… not for a second.”

His voice cracked, just faintly, but he pressed on, his expression resolute and filled with quiet determination. “I don’t want to marry you because of how long we’ve been together… or because it’s ‘what comes next.’ I want to marry you because there’s no one else I could ever imagine standing beside me. No one else I want to build a future with… grow old with.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening as he whispered, “I want to marry you… because I love you.”

Y/N let out a soft, broken laugh, tears spilling freely now as he clung to Clark’s every word.

Clark’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with emotion. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself onto one knee, his gaze never wavering, his hands still cradling Y/N’s as though letting go was unthinkable. With quiet reverence, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box he’d carried close to him all night. His fingers trembled only slightly as he opened it, revealing the simple yet elegant ring—a perfect symbol of the love they had built: enduring, strong, timeless.

“I do, Y/N,” Clark whispered, his voice raw with unguarded emotion. “I love you… endlessly. I see my forever… and it’s you. It’s always been you.”

His gaze softened further, shimmering with hope, love, and absolute certainty. “Will you… will you marry me?”

The room seemed suspended in breathless stillness—time stretching endlessly in the space between the question and the answer. Tears streamed down Y/N’s face as a choked, tearful laugh escaped his lips. He covered his mouth for just a second, overcome, before reaching down and pulling Clark up into his arms with a fierce, unrestrained embrace.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered, voice trembling but resolute. “Yes. A thousand times… yes.”

Clark let out a shaky, relieved laugh, wrapping his arms around Y/N like he never intended to let go. Their foreheads pressed together, tears mingling as they clung to the enormity of the moment—the life they had already built and the future they were now promising.

Time seemed to stop the moment Clark gently slid the ring onto Y/N’s finger. His large, warm hands trembled just enough for you to notice, though his grip remained steady and sure—like he was grounding himself in the reality of this moment. Clark’s ocean-blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, swirling with relief, joy, and an overwhelming depth of love that stole Y/N’s breath away. His expression softened as though the weight of anticipation he’d been carrying for weeks had finally lifted.

For a moment, all Y/N could do was stare at the ring sparkling brilliantly in the soft candlelight. Its elegance and meaning were undeniable, but even its beauty couldn’t compare to the way Clark was looking at Y/N—like he were the most precious, extraordinary person in the world, the very center of his universe.

Emotion swelled in Y/N’s chest, leaving him speechless. Tears blurred his vision, but through the shimmering haze, he could still see Clark—standing there, still holding his hand like he couldn’t bear to let go, his breath uneven as he searched your face for reassurance that this was real.

With every ounce of love, joy, and unspoken promise between them, Y/N closed the distance and pulled Clark into the most heartfelt, soul-deep kiss they had ever shared. It wasn’t rushed or urgent—it was steady, certain, and profound, like the turning of the earth, like something that had always been meant to happen.

Their lips met with a softness that carried ten years of shared history—nights spent laughing until their sides hurt, quiet mornings tangled in sheets as sunlight streamed through the windows, whispered promises exchanged in the dark when the world felt too heavy. This kiss held all of that—and more. It was the culmination of a thousand moments, big and small, that had built the life they shared.

Clark’s hands came up slowly, almost reverently, cradling Y/N’s face with a tenderness that spoke of how deeply he cherished this moment. His fingers brushed against Y/N’s jaw, his touch light but grounding, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His lips moved against Y/N’s with aching sincerity, pouring his heart into the connection, into the unspoken vow that they would never have to let go.

Y/N’s arms wrapped securely around Clark’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them—only warmth, only love, only them. He felt Clark’s breath hitch ever so slightly against his mouth, felt the way his shoulders relaxed as though the weight of the world had finally fallen away, leaving only this perfect, timeless moment.

The soft glow of the candles flickered gently around them, casting dancing shadows across the familiar walls of their home. The delicate scent of roses and eucalyptus lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the comforting warmth still radiating from the hearth of the kitchen. The world outside seemed to hold its breath, quiet and still, as though honoring something sacred unfolding in that small, candle-lit apartment.

But the only warmth they truly felt was the steady, enduring fire they had always kindled in each other—the kind of warmth built over years of shared dreams, quiet comforts, and unconditional love.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling as they lingered in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Y/N’s fingers gently traced the edge of Clark’s jaw, his touch still trembling from the overwhelming rush of emotion. Clark’s eyes opened slowly, his deep blue gaze shining with love, awe, and absolute certainty.

“I love you,” Clark whispered, voice thick with emotion, as though the words weren’t nearly enough but still everything he needed to say.

Y/N smiled through tears that still shimmered in his eyes, his own voice breaking. “I love you… so much.”

Their fingers entwined again, holding on as though they never intended to let go—and they didn’t. They wouldn’t. This was forever.

Their story—already filled with so much life, so many memories and shared adventures—was only just beginning.

And in the soft, golden glow of their home, surrounded by the quiet beauty they had built together, they stood hand in hand—ready to write the next chapter, together.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Game Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence, Gore (Horror Movie)

You lean back on your elbows, tilting your face up to the sky. The final heat wave of the year had finally passed, and the evenings were starting to become much cooler with a welcoming breeze. With your eyes closed, you take in the sun rays before the gray clouds take over the clear sky, making the little warmth they offer sparse.

“OOOHHHHHH, nothing but net once again,” Nicky yells as you hear the basketball go through the hoop. “I'm on fire tonight.”

Smiling to yourself, you push your sunglasses up your head and look at him and Yoongi running around the park's concret court chasing after one another, trying to take the round orange ball from the other person. Yoongi had approached you carefully throughout the week, texting you during the day to make plans with you after practice. If you said you were busy, he dropped it. If you gave him the go-ahead, he showed up for dinner and a simple walk to the park that was just down the road from your house. This is the second time this week you have sat here watching them play on a set of metal bleachers. They weren't practicing, going over plays. They were just….having fun. No pressure, no expectation, just having fun. Just two people running around playing one on one because they enjoyed it.

“Come on, sunshine,” Nicky calls out, waving you over. “Come out and play with us.”

“I'll pass, thanks,” you call back, waving your hand, dismissing them.

“You're boring,” he complains and sits down on the court, pulling out his phone.

Yoongi walks over to you, casually dribbling the ball between his two hands. Sitting down next to you, he throws the ball in the air, making you catch it as it comes down in front of your face.

“Why does he call you sunshine?” He asks, leaning back, mimicking your previous position. “I don't think I have ever heard him use your name.”

“You know that song?” You ask, squinting your eyes under the glare of the sun as you look over at him. “You are my sunshine….,” you start to sing as he nods. “Yeah, that’s it. I sang it to him all the time when he was little. My dad and my brother even call me sunshine most of the time. The name just kind of stuck after all these years.”

“He was telling me about his dad,” he informs you.

“Really?” You ask, surprised that he was opening up to him. “What did he say? He doesn't ever really talk about him.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi confirms, nodding his head. “He didn't say much. Just that his dad was a really good basketball player, too. He led his high school team to the state championship.”

“He did, and they won,” you tell him. “He played in college for a little bit before he had to quit. I mean… he didn't have to quit, but he chose to quit.”

“Why did he quit?” Yoongi asks, and you sigh, looking at the boy on the court.

“He got his girlfriend pregnant,” you answer.

“Ah,” he said in understanding.

“He focused on getting a job to start saving money while trying to finish school. My parents really stepped up to support both him and Nicky's mom. It was a pretty chaotic time,” you explain.

“Yeah, I bet,” he agrees.

“Did you really think I was his mom?” You ask, laughing a little bit. “I don't think that I really give off mom vibes. Besides, it shows you clearly never read my paperwork. With all the damn information I had to put down, you would have seen I was twelve when he was born.”

“I didn't know, and Jungkook deals with all the paperwork. All I knew was that there was a hot woman in a tight skirt I had never seen before giving me a bunch of shit,” he said, smiling.

“Hot?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I still think about you in those skirts, doll,” he whispers, leaning close to your face.

“You're disgusting,” you whisper back.

“You didn't think that I was disgusting when I had you pinned to your bed,” he smirks.

“I don't remember,” you feign confusion.

“Well, I'll be happy to jog your memory whenever you want me to,” Yoongi leans closer and presses his lips to yours.

“Gross are two always going to be kissing?” Nicky asks, making the two of you break apart.

“Wait until you get a girlfriend,” you tell him, shoving the orange ball at him.

“No way,” he says. “I’m not going to let some girl get between me and basketball. I have a plan, and a girl is not a part of them.”

“Sure,” you say. “I'll make sure to hold you to that when the time comes and some little girl is fawning all over you.”

Nicky pulls a face and walks off down the sidewalk. You and Yoongi get up, following him back down the street to your house. Yoongi fingers brush up against yours as you slowly stroll side by side. It wasn't long until his long, bony digits entwined with your own. It wasn't a firm hold making sure that you stayed put where he wanted you. It was lax, allowing you to pull free if you wanted. The innocent act had your heart pounding, and you hoped that you played it off like it was nothing, but it was. It was him slowly testing the waters. Letting you tiptoe in the shallow end instead of throwing you in the deep end and seeing if you can swim and you appreciate it more than he'll ever know.

“What are you doing?” You ask Nicky as he stood at the kitchen counter scrubbing his already clean white basketball shoes with a toothbrush.

“They looked dirty,” he said, focused on his task.

“They're brand new,” you tell him, leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. “They are perfectly clean.”

“Nope, they had fingerprints on them, and I need them to be perfect for tomorrow,” he informs you. “If I can see them, then so can other people.”

“It's okay to be nervous,” you gently say. “It's your first game with a whole new team. It's perfectly normal to feel nervous.”

“I'm not nervous,” he denies, scrubbing a bit harder. You walk over to him and take the footwear away from him, placing it on the counter. “Hey!”

“Go sit on the couch. I think I have something for you,” you say, walking down the hallway to your bedroom.

Opening your closet, you step up on a small wooden step stool to reach the box that was shoved to the very back on the upper shelf. Once you grab it, you smile and grab two items inside and place the box back where you retrieved it. Stepping down, you head back into the living room to your waiting nephew. Sitting in front of him on the coffee table, you hand him the two items in your hand.

“What are these?” He asks, taking them from you.

“These belonged to your dad. It's his captain badge from high school and his lucky headband,” you explain, taking the head band back and placing it over his head to rest on his forehead. You untuck his hair so it falls around the thick black material. “I found them in a box that was in the attic of your old house when we were packing. He wouldn't let grandma wash it in case it caused his team to lose. She didn't listen and washed it anyway, and they still won.”

“How do I look,” he asks quietly, adjusting the headband around his head.

“Like the spitting image of your father,” you answer, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat and take the patch back from him. “You're going to kill it out on the court tomorrow. I'll sew this in your undershirt where it's hidden. It will give you some extra good luck even though you won't need it .”

“I'm going to win it for him,” he says with determination in his voice. “I'm going to make him and mom proud.’

“I know you will,” you wrap your arms around him tightly.

You're not religious or spiritual in any sense. You lost any faith that you did have years ago. However, there was a part of you that hoped your brother would be with him tomorrow. Hopefully, the small items you have given him will help him feel close to his dads spirit when he can't physically have him. You hoped it eased his worries, even if it was for just a little bit.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask, pulling back from him, and he nods. “Are you okay with me and Coach Min?”

“I mean, it's a little weird, but I'm okay with it,” he assures you. “I barely remember the last time you had a boyfriend. I kind of remember a guy with a beard, and I think I remember mom and dad fighting about dad hitting him.”

“You what?” You asked, shocked.

“Yeah, I remember dad having a cast on his hand and mom yelling at him about dad hitting him,” he says. “Does coach make you happy?”

“I think so,” you say quietly, trying to come to terms with what he just told you. You thought you had protected him from your trauma, but he was always way smarter than you gave him credit for. “I hope he will anyway. I want you to promise me something. Promise me that if at any time, you are uncomfortable with us…. being together. You tell me. I don't want you to ever be afraid to tell me if you get uncomfortable with us. You will always be my number one, and I don't want you to forget that.”

“I promise,” he agrees, holding his pinky finger out.

You smile and wrap your pinky around his as you both kiss your respective fist. Nicky adjusts the headband once more as he leaves you sitting there on the coffee table with your brother's patch in your hand. You close your hand tightly around the material and take a shuddering breath. Sniffling, you shake your head, trying to clear all the emotions you are feeling right now.

You're fine.

Everything is fine.

Nothing is fine.

Nothing was ever fine, and everyone knew it.

Hopefully….it will be.

You organize the shiny, colorful bags of chips off to the side of the window for easy access. Elly works behind you, mixing large containers of nacho cheese together. Bringing it to a nice smooth consistency over the heat on an induction plate in a large silver pot. She was your saving grace today after she volunteered her time to help you run the concession stand. You're pretty sure she was using it as an excuse so she wouldn't have to spend the whole time with your mom defending her choices for her and Chris's upcoming wedding. You don't question her motives for volunteering. You were happy that you didn't have to go at this alone.

“So,” Yoongi says, leaning over the counter separating the kitchen and the cafeteria to look at you. “Do I get a good luck kiss?”

“Why?” You ask, breaking down the large chip box, not sparing him a look. “You're not playing.”

Elly's giggle in the background makes you break character and smile. Sucking your cheeks in, you try to school your features. Yoongi audibly sighs dramatically, playing along with your foolishness. You finally look over at him, and he smirks at you.

“How about if we win?” He asks, licking his bottom lip as his eyes dart to your mouth. “Do I get… something then?”

“Possibly,” you answer with a shrug, looking at him with an arched eyebrow. “I guess you better win to find out.”

“You two are gross,” Elly giggles behind you, making Yoongi smirk widen and shrug his shoulders.

Winking at you, he turns, walking away to the gymnasium as his players start showing up. Throwing the box in your hands off to the side, you turn to look at Elly. She looks back at you with a million questions ready to be asked. Shaking your head at her, she just laughs. You grab your next box and repeat your earlier process, smiling to yourself. Yes, you think. You just might give him something.

You had over estimated how busy working the concession stand would be. Snot nosed kids demanded everything and anything that they could get their grubby little hands on while their parents were trying to order over their yelling. You almost couldn't keep up. The food was going pretty fast, and unfortunately, Yoongi was right. The tips sucked. You figure you must only be charming to old biker men who had one too many drinks and not the moms who drive minivans. You bet if you had worn a low-cut top, some of the dads would have tipped a bit more.

“Maybe I should have tied my shirt up,” you say to Elly, who was starting to clean up. “Show a little skin, you know?”

“Yes, I'm sure your boyfriend would love that,” she says, laughing, making you scoff at the word boyfriend, but you know it's true. “Could you imagine your mom seeing you like that here. Y/N, cover up right now.” She says imitating your mom.

“Y/N, you’re embarrassing the family,” you say, joining in on the mocking of your mother.

“I can't believe her sometimes,” she grumbles, scrubbing away at the nacho cheese pot maybe a little too aggressively. “She always has to have an opinion.”

“And yet, you are still going to marry into this family,” you tease her as you wipe some crumbs away off the counter. “I don't know who is crazier. Us or you.”

“If I didn't love you and your brother, I would have ran a long time ago,” she admits.

“Can I have a water, please?” A manly voice asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Two dollars,” you answer, placing a water bottle on the metal counter. You look at the handsome man in front of you wearing a shirt with the team's logo on it. “Anything else for you?”

“Are you Min's girlfriend?” He asks, looking at you quizzically as he ignores your question.

“No,” you answer quickly, getting back to the topic of payment. “Two dollars, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans. He fingers through the bills before finally pulling out the two dollar bills. “I saw you earlier here with him. You two looked awfully chummy.”

“I'm sure,” you ask, holding your hand out, making him laugh quietly.

“I don't believe you,” he tells you, handing you the money. “Trust me when I say this….stay away from him. He likes to sleep with the moms, and he doesn't care if they are married.”

Your heart stops.

A sharp pain.

Betrayal.

Moms?

Your stomach drops as your joking words from before come back to haunt you.

“I don't know you,” you say defensively as you try not to believe the words that just came out of his mouth. “Why should I believe you?”

“Well, when I walked in on him and my wife in my bed….I think I know what I'm talking about,” he tells you, giving you a tight smile. “I just thought that you should know who you're getting involved in. He's not some great basketball coach who cares about the kids. He prays on moms during weak moments. You're not his first victim, and you probably won't be his last.”

He drops a twenty dollar bill in your tip jar before he turns to walk away. You watch him, blood rushing to your ears, heart beating out of your chest. Taking a deep breath, you call out to him.

“Who's your wife?” You ask, not wanting to know the answer, but you were always a glutton for punishment.

“Ara,” he says, simply before finally walking away and disappearing through the gym doors.

Ara.

The bitch.

The one who thinks she calls the shots.

The one who yelled at Yoongi because of you.

Yoongi and Ara.

Ara and Yoongi.

You feel like an idiot. You feel like he's playing you for a fool. He knew you had to sit there in the bleachers with her almost every night and didn't say one word about his past with her. He probably wasn't ever going to mention it to you. He think's he's so fucking slick.

“Are you okay?” Elly asks, coming up to stand next to you. “What's going on?”

“Nothing. I'm fine,” you answer, lowering your eyes to the twenty dollar bill.

You were a liar. You were not fine, but there was no way in hell that you were going to show it. You were never good at much, but you have perfected lying about your emotions. You have perfected being cold and stonewalling. It's kept you safe. That is…until now. You got soft, and that just wouldn't do.

“You better not be late,” your mother tells you as you stand by the kitchen, money bag in hand.

“I just have to hand over the money and have one of the coaches verify the amount. I can't help it if they take forever,” you snap at her. “What do you want me to do?”

“You already missed his first game. You can't miss his first celebratory dinner,” she chides. “You need to celebrate his win.”

“Coach made her work the concession stand,” Nicky says, defending you. “She's being a team player. Mom used to do it all the time.”

“She will meet us at the restaurant,” your dad says, stepping between the two of you. “Look, here comes one of the coaches.”

“Finally,” you say, eyes searching the crowd, hoping that you see Coach Jeon walking your way, but of course, you weren't that lucky.

“Congratulations on the win,” your dad said in greeting when Yoongi made it to your little group and shook his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Yoongi says politely before looking at you almost expectantly. It was as if he wanted you to introduce your family to him.

You'll pass on that.

You give nothing away as you look back at him and then down to the money bag in your hands. You could feel the burning gaze of your mother on you. As you look at her, you see her eyes flint between you and Nicky's coach. There was something almost accusatory in the look behind her eyes. You knew she could probably read you like an open book. It was one of her most useful evil powers. She could always smell it on you….the guilt….the lies. You could never hide from her when she was actually paying attention.

“You better not be too late,” she tells you. “We will order without you, and I will not order for you.”

“I told you I will be there. He just needs to count the money,” you say through gritted teeth.

Your mother doesn't respond before she turns and walks away. Your dad visibly sighs, patting you on the shoulder before following his wife with Nicky in tow. Looking at Yoongi, you practically throw the money bag at him.

“Your mom kind of scares me,” he said, chuckling, but you don't. You look at him with very little emotion, making him tic his head to the side, studying you. “What's going on?”

“Can you just count the money so I can go,” you tell him. “Obviously you can see I'm in a hurry.”

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to grab you but you back away, shaking your head at him. “Clearly you're pissed at me. What could I have possibly done? I haven't seen you in an hour.”

“I met someone interesting today,” you tell him, crossing your arms and closing yourself off. Yoongi looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish. “Ara's husband.” His expression goes blank, and it tells you everything that you need to know. “So, it's true?”

“How come I get the feeling that no matter what I say, it's going to be the wrong thing,” he tells you, not denying anything.

“Ew,” you say, shaking your head, grimacing. “Ew, ew, ew. I think I need a scalding hot shower, possibly a shot of something and penicillin. Oh my god, ew.”

“Hey,” he said, looking offended. You look over his shoulder to see the couple in question, walking out of the gym and through the cafeteria to leave the building. They were holding hands, looking like the picture-perfect couple, but you know it couldn't be further from the truth. “Listen….”

“Count the money,” you tell him, interrupting whatever it was that he was going to say. You didn't want to hear it. You didn't care. “Forge my signature. I don't care. Have a good weekend…coach.”

You don't spare him one glance as you walk away. As you make your way to your car, you can feel those chains that he was breaking through, locking tightly once more. Locking so tight that you swear you can feel your chest hurt. It hurt so badly. It felt like you couldn't breathe. Shaking your head, you were so mad at yourself that you let yourself like someone like that once again. It was time to bury your heart again. It was time to bury it even deeper, and this time….you weren't digging it out.

A/N: Do I need to run and hide?

《Chapter 8》

Tagged Readers:

@busanbby-jjk , @meelismee @jajabro , @wicked-game-black-butler

@wobblewobble882, @damn-u-min-yoongi @mintedagustd , @Granataepfelchen

@yoongiiuu93, @jimeg629 @jincapableoflove , @minghaosimp

@redragdoll, @ot72025 @seoullove96 @our-cool-jenny

@kam9404 , @momma1, @amarawayne , @militrybarbi

@haileyborig, @bettytta @mar-lo-pap , @lattejimin,@butterymin @thelilbutifulthings , @cannotalwaysbenight @muchwita ,@maryhopemei, @rinkud

[thenameswinterfics]

SCIAMACHY

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Cregan Stark x DragonDreamer!Reader Settings: Season 2 and post season 2 Summary: As the second child of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn, your father arranged your marriage to the young Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark, in the guise of an arranged marriage that would strengthen the bond between your Houses. But you are haunted by visions of a bloody war shaking the Seven Kingdoms, and the seeds of your doubt are sown when your sister's claim to the throne is challenged. Word Count: 4,4 K Warnings: Angst, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of character(s) death(s), mention of child loss, mention of sibling loss, major spoilers from the book "Fire and Blood" (if you're only following the show please do not read this fic). A/N: I'm back! (sadly for you) This is my very first fic I've written for the HOTD fandom and the very first fic of Cregan. I'm nervous, maybe even more than when I posted my first Sihtric fic, probably because the fandom is vast. It came out different of what I've planned in my head and I lowkey hate the last part, but I hope you still could enjoy it! A special thanks to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with clearing my outline and for the title, and for her and @legitalicat for the quick beta reading.

Dedicated to my beautiful Cregan wife @sylasthegrim

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Sciamachy: (n), a battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadows.

An unfamiliar chill ran down your spine as you walked through the dark corridors of the Red Keep, the place you were born but never called home. The soft crunching of the snow under your boots was the only sound you could hear as you juggled in the darkness, the faintest light in the form of rays filtering through the cracks in the walls and allowing you to see a little. 

The sight was vivid, far too vivid, and all you could do was rub your eyes vigorously, hoping that when your vision cleared you would find yourself surrounded by the crackling fire and warmth of your room in Winterfell, the place you were sent against your will but would be forced to call home once you became its new lady. 

But no matter how hard you tried to clear your vision: you would still recognise the long, oppressive corridors you had walked as a child, emptied of the countless soldiers of the Kingsguard that guarded it. Each step became an echo of the memories you thought you had buried with time, but which rose to the surface like a breath of fire from the dragon's jaws. 

You could still hear the voice of King Viserys, the father who despised you from the moment you took your first breath, guilty of stealing your twin brother's life and living in his name. A father that neglected you for not being born as a man.

You could still hear the voice of your sister Rhaenyra, sweet as honey and warm as a mother's embrace you had never known. You were the little sister she always wanted, the glimpse of freedom amidst her duties to the Crown and the relief from the pain of losing a childhood friend. And it mattered not that you were the quietest of her family, avoiding banquets and receptions in the throne room and sneaking out whenever you could, collecting the brightest bugs and muttering meaningless words, flinching when someone touched your hand: you were still her perfect little sister in her eyes. 

And her love was all you wanted right now. 

Your bittersweet thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar from outside, the sound so loud it made your head spin and your stomach churn. You quickened your pace, hoping to find a larger crack in the wall to see what was happening outside. And there you found a vision that made you freeze.

You saw two dragons, an older one and a younger one, chasing each other across a stormy sky, their dragon scales glowing under the lightning and thunder as their bodies pursued each other in a majestic yet macabre dance. It seemed an innocent game between them, but the claws and talons of the older dragon prevailed over the younger, and you watched helplessly as he fell to the ground like a comet from the sky, swallowed by the sea.

You walked on, your eyes never leaving the scene outside, wanting to help the little dragon disappear into the water. But the more you crossed the corridor, the heavier the air you breathed became, and roars of pain, of burning lands and clashing swords filled your ears like a cursed chant. 

You covered your ears and closed your eyes, stopping your journey towards the throne room. When you opened your eyes again, you saw a room far different from the one you were accustomed to: the vibrant and noisy ambience turned into a ghostly one, the faint rays of moonlight illuminating the Iron Throne. A bloody crown, Jaehaerys' crown, lay abandoned on the throne, rivulets of blood running down to your feet, two dragons lying restlessly behind it. Two children stood before it, their backs to each other, holding each other's hands; you could feel their tortured gaze as they watched the bloody chair, and your heart broke at the sight. 

As you approached, trying to touch the crown, soft footsteps made you turn and you heard a wolf howling in the distance.

And then you woke up. 

Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honour must pay its price. 

These were the words that came out from Cregan Stark's mouth as he escorted Jacaerys to the Wall. They were a testament to how the men of the North were bound by his rigid code of values and honour, and how none of them had ever forgotten or wavered from an oath. 

And when the Stark were called upon to renew their allegiance to House Targaryen, nothing would make them waver.

His father Rickon had already done so when he was summoned to King's Landing and bent the knee to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and a few years later it was Cregan's turn to renew the oath by accepting King Viserys' offer of marriage to the new lord of Winterfell. The young wolf had recently been freed from the regency of his zealous uncle Bennard, and an arranged marriage to a Targaryen princess would strengthen the bond between the two houses since the times of Aegon the Conqueror and Tohrren Stark. 

But when he saw the melancholy in your lilac eyes, Cregan realised that politics was nothing more than a sweet lie masking a more sinister purpose: you were no longer welcome at the court of King Viserys, no matter how much your sister begged to keep you under her protection, or how much Alicent Hightower dared to show a glimmer of mercy. You would have been a young dragon raised by a pack of wolves, and as his future wife it would have been his responsibility to look after you.

And now he was called to be sworn to House Targaryen again, on the brink of a civil war that could involve the North in Southern affairs. 

“The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oath sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir,” Jacaerys announced solemnly, walking through the narrow corridors of the Walls, Cregan at his side. The Lord of Winterfell was holding Ice over one shoulder, the sword as heavy as the title inherited from his father. 

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince,” Cregan retorted, occasionally bowing his head to some members of the Night’s Watch, “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South,” he added, a hint of heavy responsibility in his voice. The threats in winter were much greater than in summer, with the Night's Watch and the men of Winterfell stepping up their activities on the Wall, ready to turn back any outside threats. Furthermore, it was rare to see the intervention of the North in matters concerning the South, but Cregan could not ignore that oaths were broken. And traitors had to pay for it.

“War is coming to the whole realm, my lord,” it was the Prince of Dragonstone’s turn to retort back, “Whilst your men plan to raise guards against wildlings, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. My mother’s claim has been compromised, and little I believe your lady wife could turn her gaze away,”

The words that escaped Jace's mouth left Cregan in a state of astonishment, his brows furrowing and hardening his already stern face. He had never expected the prince to use his wife so cleverly, even though she was a trusted member of his house whom he had sadly never met in peaceful circumstances.

“The Queen has not forgotten the love she has for her sister, and King’s Landing will welcome her again once my mother succeeds in keeping the realm united,”

“My lady wife has her sister's fate very much at heart,” Cregan continued, his gaze softening a bit at the thought of you, “and you arrival put her in a state of worry, my prince,”

The two young men then stood on the Wall, looking out over the untamed land, now covered in white snow. A biting wind whipped around them as Cregan explained how such powerful creatures as the dragons refused to cross the spaces beyond the Wall, highlighting the dangers of the unknown that folded these lands, while he and Jacaerys negotiated the number of men willing to aid Queen Rhaenyra's cause. Cregan himself knew the importance of keeping an oath to a man's moral integrity, and while his duties were tied to the Wall and the threat of the wildlings, he could not ignore the dispute over the king's word. 

“My lord,” one of Cregan’s men arrived, forcing the two young men to interrupt their conversation, “Urgent news from Dragonstone,” 

The Wolf of Winterfell took the parchment in his hands, and from the brief glance he shared with one of his men, he knew the contents were far from frivolous. He let the paper slip from his hands to read the message, and a sense of astonishment struck him like the chill of the North: his lips curled into a grimace, his eyebrows furled slightly as his grey eyes scanned the words printed on the paper. He could have thought it was an unfortunate joke, but the seal of House Targaryen only confirmed what he had read: 

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Cregan lifted his gaze to rest on Jacaerys' brown eyes and watched as the young prince's face contorted in confusion, then grief as he glanced at the parchment in Cregan's hands, and hot tears watered his eyes, streaming down his sharp face until two small rivers crossed their path on his chin. The young lord watched helplessly as the Prince of Dragonstone staggered backwards, clutching his chest in a tight fist as if trying to hold it together; it was a sight familiar to Cregan, for he had also lost his younger brother and remembered the same sense of helplessness creeping through his veins. 

But as Jacaerys collapsed in grief, a new weight hit Cregan's chest, a sense of dread blossoming in the centre of his stomach as he steeled himself for what was to come. 

He would have to inform you and to bring the news of Lucery’s death. And it wouldn’t be easy.

The bright orange sun hid behind the imposing mountains of the North, its last rays illuminating the tops of the peaks and tinting the snow a soft pink. As the light faded, a few amber rays filtered through the windows of your chambers, illuminating them with a soft glow - the gentle warmth of the sun blending with the heat of the great fire in the centre of the room, accompanied by the soft crackle of the wood.

You sat quietly at the foot of your bed, embroidery hoop in hand, watching your son Rickon play with his wooden toys beside you. A few handmaids moved about your chambers, preparing the large table for the dinner you and Cregan would share that evening. Your lilac eyes rested on the small figure of your son, who returned them with a broad smile. But as you raised a hand and gently rubbed his swollen cheeks, you were seized by a sense of unease. 

It had been a long time since you and Cregan had been married, and from the first night you spent in Winterfell your mind had been haunted by dark omens hovering over your family name. Glimpses of what had happened in the past and what would happen in the future passed before your eyes like dancing shadows, sometimes appearing even when you were fully awake. You could still hear cries for help filling your ears, dragons fighting in the sky with claws and breath of fire, and sinister whispers plotting an overthrow of power, the image of your father's bloody crown on the throne still vivid in your mind. 

The people of Winterfell had always regarded you with suspicion, for you were far from the Targaryen princess they had always imagined. But Cregan had never dared to question your tastes, however strange they might sound, and whenever the duties of lordship allowed him a moment's respite, he would gladly accompany you to the far reaches of the North and catch whatever bugs you wanted. In winter, when the temperatures were too harsh and the bugs were nowhere to be found, he would wrap his great arms around your form and listen to your strange rhymes as he gazed into the fire. 

Your prophetic dreams ceased after you gave birth to Rickon, but they returned when a raven came from Dragonstone with grim news: the death of your father the King, the usurpation of your sister's claim by the Hightowers, and the loss of Rhaenyra's only daughter. Fear settled in your heart as you remembered the figure of the young dragon swallowed by the waves of the ocean, and you wondered if even innocent children would fall victim to this dangerous game of power. 

The doors of your chambers swung open and Cregan appeared. The handmaids greeted him with a nod of respect, and you gave him a small smile as you watched Rickon rise and reach his father, who scooped him up with his free hand and kissed his little forehead.

But it was when he looked at you that you realised something was wrong. His eyes, softened by the sight of you, held a pain that seemed to be fighting him. It was as if he were carrying a burden too heavy for him to bear, heavier even than his duties as Lord of Winterfell, and the sight surprised you: you had never seen Cregan so troubled by anything.

"Leave us alone," your husband's voice echoed in the room, once again wearing his mask of severity, "I need to have a few words with my wife in private,” 

The handmaids bowed their heads and quickly left the room, one of them holding Rickon in her arms. There was an unspoken tension in the air as Cregan cautiously approached you and sat in front of you. He had always been an attentive and protective husband, showing a side that differed from the stern image he gave his men.

“You seem quite troubled, husband,” you spoke softly, your voice faltering slightly. Cregan replied with a heavy sigh, covering your hands with his larger ones and rubbing them with his calloused thumbs.

“Dreadful news came from Dragonstone, my love,” Cregan said in a hoarse voice, choosing his words carefully, as if talking to a wounded puppy, “Your sister, the Queen, lost a child again,”

You felt the ground beneath your feet, surroundings had become as muffled as your husband's voice as he recited the contents of the parchment:

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Feeling like you were about to pass out, you rolled over onto your side and gripped the wooden footboard in a tight vice. You immediately covered your mouth and looked down at your feet as your mind slowly processed the news, but the shock was so strong that no tears came. Your mind raced back to the dream you'd had weeks before Jacaerys' arrival, seeing pieces of a puzzle you couldn't quite understand until now: Lucerys was the dragon that fell from the sky, and Aemond was the other one who sank his jaws into his flesh.

You felt Cregan's worried gaze on you as one of his hands moved to your arm, rubbing it gently in a soothing way. “It pains me to see you so devastated, my sweet wife,” he spoke quietly, breaking the wall of silence between you, “but you must know that House Stark will stand against-“

“I need a moment, please,” your trembling voice interrupted him as you found the strength to stand at your feet, your thick robes swooning with every step you took in the room. You paced back and forth, one hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while the other supported your lower back, grief and confusion mixing in your head as you felt like you were about to succumb to madness: for a moment you wondered if Rickon would fall victim to the Dance as well, but no bad omen was attached to him and that brought you a moment of peace.

Your restless walk ended as you approached the large window of your chambers and saw Vermax flying restlessly outside. It pained you to see such a magnificent creature as a dragon so distraught over the loss of his kin, and it pained you even more when a flash of his fate crossed your eyes as you saw the dragon dancing among hundreds of arrows.

“It is said that dragons can feel their masters’ emotions,” a rough voice came from behind, and you saw Cregan looking outside like you, “They feel their pain, their turmoil, and they share the same grief.” 

“He is preparing for his last flight,” you murmured quietly, turning your head slightly and locking your lilac gaze into his grey one. You felt Cregan’s hand resting on your waist, allowing him to pull you closer and join your foreheads together. 

"Winter is coming, my love, and I need my men here to defend the Wall," he spoke softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the warmth of your skin against his, "but House Stark will pledge its support to Queen Rhaenyra by sending her thousands of Greybeards to fight in her name. Your sister's claim will be upheld and your nephew will succeed her," 

"Jacaerys will never be King of the Seven Kingdoms," you confessed defeatedly, looking down at your feet, "the only kingdom he will see is of sea and salt. He will never see his mother sitting on the Iron Throne. I have seen it,"

Your words brought a heavy silence to the room and you both withdrew into your thoughts. You saw how quickly Cregan and Jacaerys had bonded, how they spent their days hunting and drinking together while they negotiated the terms of war. Luke's death would not be an accident, and you hoped your words would reach your husband, that he would understand the destructive force dragons could be once they went into battle.

Instead, Cregan's only words were his arms wrapped around you, sealing your body in a protective embrace. He whispered words of comfort, kissed your temple and promised victory over the usurpers.

But deep in his heart, he knew it would not be easy.

Grief and anger were the emotions Cregan felt as he rolled the parchment in his hands, his eyes darting over the words written in pitch-black ink. He cursed himself for not believing the signs of your dreams, for thinking that fear had created them for you. But even this time you were right.

The Battle of the Gullet had been costly for the Blacks, and the death of Jacaerys Velaryon was a low blow the queen would not forgive her usurpers. It was Cregan again who had the task of bringing you the unfortunate news, and his eyes would forever be haunted by the sight of your grief: he saw you holding Rickon as the news of blood and cheese reached Winterfell's ears, and those same dull eyes came back to you as you leaned against the wall at your nephew's death.

Not even the news that King's Landing had fallen into the hands of Rhaenyra and Daemon could ease the paranoia you lived with, but it only served to fuel your dark prophecies. Few letters were exchanged between Cregan and Rhaenyra, with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms constantly asking for her beloved sister and inviting her to return to court and serve if she wished. But Cregan always refused her invitation. 

For the truth was that you were safe in the great lands of the North, surrounded by nothing but the love of Cregan and Rickon, far from that viper's nest that was the Red Keep. It took time for you to adjust to the harsh cold of Winterfell and the coldness of its people, but your calm and gentle nature opened a breach in the heart of his hardened lord, and with it, the people began to love you. 

The night was cold, and the heat of the fire was not enough to protect them from the blizzard raging outside. Cregan could not sleep, tossing and turning, hoping that the Old Gods would grant him some much needed rest. It was only after tossing and turning on his side for the umpteenth time that he saw you awake too, your platinum curls falling gently to your shoulders and your lilac eyes gazing absently at the small bed where Rickon rested. 

The young wolf wrapped his naked arms around your waist and pulled you close, his chest pressed against your back, the layer of your nightgown the only thing separating your bodies. "Sleep seems to have left you too," he said in a harsh voice, his lips brushing against your neck. You closed your eyes and let out a shuddering breath. 

"I have no reason to be asleep, dear husband," you replied absently, the softness of your voice melting his heart. Cregan knew that your mind was far from him, and he feared that your prophetic dreams had imprisoned it again. He let out a long sigh before speaking again.

"A raven came from King's Landing in the morrow," he spoke quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Rickon, "your sister will be pleased to welcome you to the capital and give you all the honours of a Targaryen princess,”

He felt a small chuckle escape your mouth and lowered his head, resting his newly bearded chin on your collarbone, "If it is your wish to reach her, I will order some of my men to arrange a safe journey south for you." Cregan went on, his voice faltering at the thought of leaving you alone while Rhaenyra dealt with her opponents. But you were his wife and the light of his eyes, and if you wished to regain your lost time with your sister, he would accept it without objection.

But the slight shake of your head surprised him, "It wouldn't change anything. Rhaenyra would be dead the moment I reached King's Landing, and the gods know what horrors await there.”

Cregan's brow furrowed, and for the first time he seriously considered the words of your prophetic dreams: if the Dragon Queen was indeed about to die, what would happen if he left his wife alone in the grasp of the Greens? A shiver ran down his spine, anger boiling in his chest at the thought of you being taken prisoner by Aegon the Usurper. 

"That will probably not happen," the Lord of Winterfell scoffed, tightening his grip as if he secretly feared you would disappear in his arms, "You have nothing to fear, my dear woman. Your sister is Queen now. Once the usurpers and the breakers of the oath have paid for what they have done, there will be a reign of peace and prosperity. 

"It will not be her," you murmured, rolling to the other side to face Cregan. You leaned your hand against his cheek as you looked at him with your melancholy eyes, "Rhaenyra is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but a crown of ashes will adorn her head and a cloak of fire will wrap her body.”

Cregan leaned into your touch, but he could not quite relax at the grim revelation you gave him: he wanted to find comfort in your presence, but your words were as hard as boulders, carrying a heavy weight he wanted to lift from your shoulders.

"I can hardly see it," he murmured, his voice tinged with doubt, "Rhaenyra is a strong woman, gathering as many noble men as she can for her cause. The kingdom will be stable under her leadership."

You shook your head slowly again, your eyes filled with sorrow, "But the Dragonfire is stronger than she is, and what she has built will crumble with her," you paused for a moment before continuing, "A throne of iron swords will give way to a wooden one, and only when the cripple breathes his last will a child step in, wearing Rhaenyra's crown like a burden.”

Cregan closed his eyes and tightened his grip, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face as he slowly digested what you had told him. He had learned over time that your dreams were not mere hallucinations of a daydreaming mind, but a prophecy destined to come true, no matter how hard you tried to alter the course of events. The deaths of Jacaerys and Lucerys were living proof. 

“I swear on my honour that I will keep raising my banners for the rightful queen, no matter how gruesome our fates will be,” Cregan retorted, lowering his head more until your foreheads met again, “What will be of us?”

"You are bound by your honour and will fight for Rhaenyra until your last breath, my love," you murmured, absently tracing circles on his cheek with your thumbs, "The wolf will cry in the dragon's nest, and his wolf will be heard in the darkest hour. And only when order is restored will the wolf return to his pack."

Cregan stood in silence, his chest rising slowly as he held his breath, the realisation dawned on him: the intense activity on the Wall and the organisation of the harvest had always prevented him and his men from making a proper march on King's Landing, hoping that the Greybeards he had sent would be enough to fight for Rhaenyra's cause. But your words have confirmed that his men will march on King's Landing, and he hopes to find a less devastated city than the one his wife has described.

“Cregan,” your gentle call awakened him from his thoughts, his head resting on your hands, “promise me you will come back to me and Rickon. Swear it,”

The young wolf stood silent for a moment, his eyes drinking in your beauty: it would be painful to leave you behind, but if your prophecy came true, he would be forced to honour his oath and fight for his queen. And so he took your head in his hands, closing the distance and sealing the promise with a long, bittersweet kiss, tasting of farewell but full of hope.

“I swear it.”

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

Cregan Stark Taglist: @sylasthegrim @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

[demonic0angel]

So I had a StephXDanny thought if you could make something out of it that'd be cool

So Phantom is flying around Gotham helping shades with their deaths and pointing the police to crimes when he can when he runs in to Spoiler now he doesn't hate the bats but he doesn't like how they're always trying to capture him for something but he just wants to go home and sleep so he can go on his date with the gorgeous blonde he's had a crush on for weeks

Steph was having a great day she finally got asked out on a date by the cute guy from GU but now she has to try and capture this meta and everything she tries does not work

"Get back here!" Spoiler screamed.

"Hell no! Do you think I'm stupid?!" Phantom responded, dodging a brick. He stared at it incredulously, but continued running as Spoiler chased him.

"To be flying around, doing who knows what in Gotham?! You just might be!" She shouted back at him, throwing an electric net at him. He barely dodged, swooping underneath, but that moment of distraction was all she needed to throw a hidden batarang at him and electrocute him.

Phantom yelped, electric shock running through him before he moved away, shaking off the painful jitters that ran through him.

Spoiler stood across from him, holding a bo staff in one hand and another electric net bomb in the other. They glared at each other before Phantom blasted her with a ghost ray and Spoiler had to jump to the side to avoid it.

The pursuit did not stop and the night continued.

“Ugh! Get back here so I can capture you!” Spoiler said. “I have important things to do, you damn ghost boy!”

“Like what?! I have even more important things to do tomorrow too, y’know?! I don’t have time to be chased by you!” They both ended up in an alley, fighting each other in the narrow space and trying to incapacitate the other.

“You’re telling me?! I have a date tomorrow and I need some sleep, you jerk!” Spoiler screamed, tossing a trash can lid at him like a frisbee. Phantom separated himself into two pieces to dodge as he glared at her.

“You’re not the only one with a date! And I’ve been begging for a chance with this girl for months! Can you lay off?!”

And unexpectedly, Spoiler did. She stopped fighting him and Phantom paused, eying her warily. Spoiler was breathing hard as she stopped in place before she said, “Since I have a date tomorrow, I can’t afford to keep chasing you around like this. I don’t like you, ghost boy, but you probably don’t kill people, so whatever.” Phantom scowled at her, but she continued.

“I’ll let you go this one time so we can both move on. Temporary truce?” Spoiler said.

Phantom eyed her and nodded sharply. “Fine. Truce. See you never, you purple lunatic.”

And with that, he began flying off, although not with Spoiler getting the last word in. “You wish, phantom creep! And keep your nose out of Gotham business!”

————

Danny grinned at Steph, who was similarly beaming at him.

“I had a good time,” she said sweetly. Her hair was up in braids, the sunlight making her look like she had a halo. Their date had gone incredibly well and both were feeling light and fluffy from happiness. Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end.

Danny flushed. “Me too. Err… do you want to do this again?”

Stephanie nodded. “I’d love to. I’ll message you?”

Danny grinned, feeling his heart flutter as he nodded. “Yes please.”

Steph darted forward for a kiss on the cheek before she moved away, her face turning pink as well. “I have to go back home soon. See you later, you NASA nerd.”

“You wish, waffle lover,” he teased, his smile stretching wide enough to make his face hurt.

Steph turned to leave for real when in unison, they both paused and stiffened, eyes wide. Then Steph turned around, meeting Danny’s own shocked gaze and simultaneously, they both went, “Wait what?”

[magicaldestinyharmony]

In Life and Death Pt. 4

Summary: over the course of their repeated lives, Lucas Puhlavan becomes obsessed with Count Balcom’s fifth daughter. You.

male!knight x female!count's daughter!reader part 4

CW: mentions of fire, burning bodies, fighting, beating, abuse, hunting of humans, death, killing, fatal wounds, blood, torture and whipping.

WC: 5.5k words

A/N: I don't know what happened guys I'm sorry (ToT) I blinked and it became this long. Enjoy I guess?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

“What’s your name?”

“What?” Lucca turns to the female voice beside him, perplexed at the question.

She should already know his name.

“I asked you what your name is,” the fifth daughter of Count Balcom repeats.

Lucca blinks again. Completely and utterly confused. “Why does it matter?” he asks.

“Well, since you’re in my care now, I think I should call you something other than ‘boy’ or ‘you’,” she says.

“You can call me ‘slave’ like everyone else does,” Lucca helpfully supplies.

Her face takes on an Are you crazy? look.

She doesn’t say anything else, clearly waiting for an answer to her earlier question. An answer she isn’t going to get. Lucca keeps his mouth shut, hoping the silence will get her to stop asking and leave. The quiet stretches out.

Finally, she jumps up from her perch on the stool beside his bed. “Fine! It’s obvious you aren’t going to tell me so I’m going to leave and you can keep your stupid name to yourself!”

Instead of feeling satisfied with getting what he wanted, he feels bothered that she’s leaving upset. 

“Wait!” his hand grabs her wrist before she can completely leave.

She cocks an eyebrow, silently demanding he let her go.

“Lucca,” he whispers.

“What?” she asks.

“Lucca,” he repeats, a little louder.

She smiles and sits back down. “Thank you for telling me.”

Lucca inclines his head.

“Can I call you ‘Lucca’?”

He blinks at the question, then nods.

She grins. “Thank you, Lucca.”

◇◇◇

“Mommy?” a much smaller Lucca peaked around the door of his parent’s bedroom.

A graceful woman brought her fingers to her lips, a silent indication to be quiet as she left the bed and approached her youngest son.

“Come, sweetheart, let’s go downstairs before we wake up your father.” The mother picked her son up in her arms and headed to the kitchen on the first floor.

She sat him on a chair, knelt in front of him and grabbed his hands. “Is everything okay, love?”

Lucca sniffled. “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh, Lucca, honey.” She pulled him into her arms again in a comforting hug.

“I woke up alone in the dark and that scared me,” Lucca admitted quietly.

His mom pulled him in even closer and patted his back.

They stayed like that for a while. Nothing like a mother's love to chase away the demons of the night.

“Lucca, love.” She pulled away enough just to wipe away the little boy's tears. “Do you know why I picked ‘Lucca’ as your name?”

Lucca shook his head.

His mom smiled and caressed his cheeks. “‘Lucca’ means ‘bringer of light’. I picked this name at the time you were born because the first time I held you in my arms, the sun's rays burst through clouds, bathing you in its golden light.

“The name sounded fitting. But as you grew up from a tiny infant to a strong, healthy child, I realized that this is the perfect name for you. Everything you do, you do with the biggest smile on your face. Your smile is radiant, my love. Just like the light.”

Lucca watched his mom speak, hanging on to her every word. And when sleep gripped his young form again, he fell to its clutches with a happy smile on his face.

◇◇◇

“Hurry up, Beck, Lucca!” A young girl waved at Lucca and their older brother, beckoning them closer.

“We're coming!” Both boys looked at each other and grinned.

Beck smirked and started sprinting. “Last one to Hazel is a rotten egg!”

“Hey! Not fair!” Lucca took after his brother, trying to reach his older sister first.

Beck, with his head start, reached Hazel. Lucca shuffled in a little later, bending over. “That’s not fair! You should have counted down first!”

“Too bad.” Beck smugly shrugged.

Lucca squinted his eyes at the older boy. Beck is the oldest of three children. Then it's Hazel and Lucca.

Lucca grinned mischievously. “Uh-oh, I don’t like that lo–” Beck started but Lucca lunged at him.

“Whoa!” Beck managed to evade the lunge but Lucca started chasing him around the meadow.

“Boys! That's enough! The picnic is all set up!” their mother called for them.

She sighed, a smile playing on her lips as her boys overlooked her call.

Her husband, the boys' father, laughed. “I'll go get them. Why don't you get Hazel started?”

Hazel reached the sheet and plopped down. Their mother smiled at her family’s antics and settled down beside Hazel.

“Dad! Let us down!” The boys struggled in their father's hold playfully as he neared the picnic. He set them on the sheet and sat next to them.

The family had fun out together all day.

◇◇◇

“Are you sure, Hazel?” Lucca asked.

“Yes, Dad gave me my allowance to use didn't he?” Hazel nodded.

“True. But we aren't supposed to go to the market alone,” Lucca hesitated.

“It'll be fine. We’re old enough aren’t we?” Hazel assured him. “And”–she wiggled her eyebrows–“Mom, Dad and Beck are gonna get home late. If we beat them, how are they gonna know?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her.

“Do you think Beck would like this?” Hazel held up a wooden horse figurine.

“Maybe, he always wanted to ride a horse.” Lucca shrugged.

“Ugh.” Hazel set the figurine back down and sighed. “Why is he so hard to shop for? And you aren't any help at all!”

“You just find it hard,” he teased her. “I’m uninterested because I already got him his gift.” Lucca stuck his hands in his pocket.

Hazel sighed dramatically.

“Let's just go home now, Hazel.” Lucca looked up at the sky. “The sun is gonna set soon. If we don't start going home, we'll get there at night and Mom and Dad will know that we went out without permission..”

Hazel sighed dramatically again. “Fine, you're right. Let's go home.”

The two rented a carriage. Their home was located in the forest. To reach it, you had to go through a bend in the road that led straight to their house.

As the carriage reached the bend, Lucca perked up. He stared out the window intently.

“Stop!” He yelled out to the carriage driver.

The carriage screeched to a halt. “What's wrong, boy?”

Lucca caught Hazel's startled gaze. “Lucca? What's going on?”

Lucca smiled hesitantly. “It’s alright, Hazel. I just remembered that I never bought Beck a gift.”

“That’s not true! You told me you had a gift for him already!” Hazel stared at him with wide panicked eyes.

“I lied. I lied, okay?” Lucca stepped out from the carriage.

He turned around and held Hazel's hands. “Promise me you won't leave the carriage until you reach town.”

“But–”

“Promise me!”

Hazel took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Will… Will I see you again?”

Lucca smiled sadly. “I love you, Hazel. Forever and ever.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “Lucca? What do you mean? Lucca?! Why are you say–?!”

Lucca slammed the door shut. Her fists pounded on the wood. “Lucca! Open the do–!”

He moved away, gave the carriage driver money and instructions to drive back to town and ran the rest of the way home.

Lucca stared at the hot, orange, gaping inferno swallowing his home.

Where was his family? His mom, dad and older brother?

Lucca gaped at the sight. He blinked, disbelieving what he was seeing.

He suddenly felt the need to do something. He raced towards the flames destroying his childhood memories.

“A kid! There's a kid running to the fire!”

“What?! Where did he come from!?”

“Is he in his right mind?!”

It was only when Lucca heard the voices, did he see the hooded figures in black. There were multiple of them, moving away from the glowing blaze. Their beady eyes peered at him.

Lucca ignored them and continued into the burning building.

“Mom?! Dad?!” he yelled around, looking for them. “Bec–!”

He gasped. There on the floor are the burnt bodies of his family. Lucca gagged at the smell of burning flesh and dropped to his knees.

“Beck? Beck?!” Lucca nudged the hand of his older brother.

The older brother who comforted him when injured.

The older brother who played with him.

The older brother who would sneak him food at night.

The older brother who had a smile that lit up the room.

The older brother who had an infectious laugh.

The older brother who's lifeless now.

The older brother who he can't see, hear, smell or touch anymore.

The scream that burst out of Lucca is gut-wrenching.

His face hardened.

He will never forgive the people who took his happiness from him.

Never.

He got up.

Ever.

Wiped his tears.

Ever.

Once Lucca stepped into the warm, dark air, it was with the determination to get revenge.

He glared at the men in black. He took one menacing step forward, then another. They snickered at him. What can a child do against many, grown mercenaries?

Lucca growled and picked up the nearest and heaviest branch. His roar had adult men hesitating.

“Capture him. Alive,” an authoritative voice called out from the darkness.

“Yes, my lord!” The mercenaries surrounded Lucca, holding swords.

A small fight ensues. Lucca managed to knock down five mercenaries before he was captured.

A hooded figure in red stepped out from the blackness. Lucca was made to kneel in front of him.

“You are one bold kid.” The man took off his hood, revealing his face.

“Do you know who I am, kid?” he demanded.

When Lucca refused to respond, the man gestured at one of the mercenaries.

The next thing he felt was the hot, searing pain of being kicked.

“Well?” the man urged him.

Lucca still didn't say anything.

Another gesture, another kick, more pain.

Lucca grunted.

The man raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Lucca spitted out.

“There you go. Was that so hard?” the mysterious man asked.

Lucca shrugged and went silent again.

“Well,” the man started. “I’m Count Balcom, the closest advisor to the emperor, one of the wealthiest nobles in the empire and have one of the best lineages.”

Lucca just stared blankly at the count. As a commoner, he wasn’t the most knowledgeable about nobles and their complicated ways.

Count Balcom walked around Lucca, giving him an appraising look.

“You would make for interesting prey.” He crouched and held Lucca’s chin up. “There’s fire in your eyes. I’m sure quenching it would feel fantastic.”

“I will never break. Never,” Lucca growled.

The count backed away and laughed. “It would be better if you cooperated.” He tapped his chin. “I believe a carriage was here. It was carrying your sister wasn’t it?”

Lucca’s eyes widened. “You leave her alone!”

Count Balcom laughed again and grinned wickedly. “If you cooperate, I’ll leave her alone.”

Lucca didn’t even hesitate. “If she stays safe I’ll come with you.”

The count gave an eerie smile. “I give you my word.” He turned to a nearby mercenary. “Take him to the wagon.”

The mercenary nodded and Count Balcom left in a flourish of red robes.

Lucca might have walked into the Balcom Manor willingly but it was hell on earth. He was abused daily and deprived of meals and water. He gave up figuring out time, in that damp, dark, dingy cell.

He hated it. What did he do to deserve this? What did his family do to deserve death?

These thoughts never left him. They circled and screamed. Wanting attention.

Yet he held on.

He must survive. He must survive. He must survive for Hazel. If he dies before he lets him he’ll kill her.

He ate whatever he was given and held on.

Then one day, Lucca was taken out of that gloomy cell. He was put on a wagon and taken to a forest.

When he saw the arrows and horses, he realized what the count meant by ‘prey’. He was going to be hunted.

He was instructed to stay in a small, open field in the woods. The field was beautiful with big trees and colourful flowers. It wasn’t a bad place to die.

He survived for Hazel. Keep on living, okay, Hazel?

When the arrow hit his heart, he had one last thought, he would finally be able to see his loving family again.

However, when Lucca opened his eyes, it wasn’t to the sight of his late family. It was to the sight of a mass of people yelling.

“The Divine Warrior woke up!”

“It’s the Divine Warrior!”

“Save us, Divine Warrior!”

Lucca was confused. What was going on?!

The High Priest explained it all.

Apparently every 1000 years, the evil dragon, Tanan, manages to break the seal placed on him. And every 100 years a Divine Warrior is born.

The Divine Warrior has a stronger physique, superior senses, a good intuition, heals faster, uses aura and has three lives. That means that the Divine Warrior has two other chances at life if death gets to them. 

The Divine Warrior awakens when they turn 18. If they die before that, their soul is preserved at the Grand Temple. Once their soul turns 18, they awaken in their older body. Once awakened, two marks appear on the Divine Warrior’s hand. It is only visible to them and counts how many lives they have left.

The job of the Divine Warrior is to reseal Tanan. If Tanan hasn’t broken free yet, their job is to save the people from evil beasts who are his underlings.

As of right now, Lucca has already lost one life, courtesy of Count Balcom.

“I see,” Lucca said, staring out the window. “So now what?”

“Now,” the High Priest began. “Now, you start your training. It is soon time for the evil dragon to break free.”

“Very well.” Lucca turned to face the older man. “But first, I want you to find someone for me.”

The High Priest nodded. “Sure. Who are they?”

“Hazel. Her name is Hazel Puhlavan.”

“What?! She's what?!” Lucca slammed his fist on his mahogany desk.

“I apologize, Your Eminence. Hazel Puhlavan is dead,” the High Priest repeated.

Lucca shoved away from his desk. She was dead?!

“But how?! I did exactly as he said,” he murmured.

Lucca whirled around to face the man. “How? No, when?”

The High Priest bowed slightly, fearing the Divine Warrior’s wrath. “She was killed on a carriage three years ago. It seemed like murder but the case was closed because of insufficient evidence.”

“Damn it!” The desk received another punch.

He shouldn't have trusted that bastard's words. 

Hazel was dead but he was here and alive.

Lucca dropped back into his seat. “You're dismissed.”

The High Priest immediately scurried off.

Lucca sighed. He survived this long for what? To find out that the fate of the world rests in his hands? To find out that his sister is dead?

What did he do to deserve this?

“Hahaha! A mere mortal tries to defeat me? Me, the great Tanan?!”

Lucca wondered if all the Divine Warriors before him had to go through this. The evil dragon is very full of himself.

“Come at me, mortal. You'll never be able to defeat me!”

Lucca gripped the Divine Sword. It's the Divine Warrior’s ultimate weapon. It's crafted from lodyed, a precious stone given to Divine Warriors. It allows them to imbue the Divine Sword with aura.

Red light glinted on the silver, polished blade, giving it a crimson look. With Tanan came, what the temple calls, the Haur Moon. It's the source of his power and hangs in the sky. Shadows cast the field of the face-off in black. The combination of red and black gave the place an ominous feeling.

Tanan stood tall, taunting Lucca with his prowess.

“If you're so great, how come you keep getting resealed?” Lucca raised an eyebrow.

“How dare you! You're a mere human!” Tanan lunged at Lucca in anger. 

A deadly fight starts.

The evil dragon shot a fireball. Lucca jumped away to avoid it.

The bloody dance continued. Lucca swung his sword. It grazed the dragon’s arm. Tanan roared. His massive tail came crashing down beside Lucca, creating a big dust cloud causing him to cough. 

The dust blocked his vision. His head snapped up just in time to see the mighty tail strike again. Lucca raised his sword to injure and ran backwards, keeping the sword up. He left a gaping, bloody wound in his wake. Tanan howled, no doubt in pain.

“Where are you, human?! I will destroy you!”

While Tanan frantically looked around for him, Lucca used the shadows to his advantage. He crept up on Tanan. Using his aura to propel him upwards, Lucca jumped to land the final strike on Tanan's head.

“There you are!” the dragon suddenly turned around, his eyes gleaming wickedly. 

Lucca's own eyes widened in surprise.

Tanan struck Lucca with his claw. He barely eluded the fatal point but it still pierced his arm.

“Ugh.” Lucca got the wind knocked out of him when his back hit the ground.

With his arm bleeding, Lucca stood again. He grabbed his sword.

It was time to end this. It was Lucca or the dragon.

Lucca jumped again and growled. He imbued the Divine Sword with aura. When he penetrated the hard layer of scales and the soft tissue under, so did Tanan's sharp claw into his torso.

Lucca heaved as blood rushed up his throat. He fell with a thud and coughed some more.

Tanan thundered and collapsed in a heap on the field. The evil dragon has finally been defeated.

I have to perform the sealing spell.

Lucca blinked against the blackness filling his vision. He coughed up more blood.

I have to–

The blackness consumed him.

Lucca convulsed and opened his eyes. The once red field was now bathed in a reddish-orange glow. Lucca spied the sun sinking below the horizon. The Haur Moon was gone.

He sighed. Everything was finally over. Two gruelling years of training have finally paid off.

Lucca spotted Tanan’s black form.

Well, everything was mostly over.

He sat up and propped his arm on his knee. The gash Tanan left him has healed completely. No matter how many times it happened, Lucca’s ability to quickly heal never ceased to amaze him.

A glance at his right hand told him what he feared. He lost another life. Only one gold mark remained. It sparkled in the glow of the sunset. Lucca had one more chance at life.

Lucca sighed again and raised his tired form. He trudged over to the source of much grief and horror.

With the evil dragon defeated, Lucca can finally breathe easy.

It would also be time for his vengeance.

After finishing the sealing spell, Lucca headed out to perform the necessary steps to complete his revenge.

He would amass great power and wealth. And once he did, he would destroy Count Balcom.

Screams filled the dim halls of Balcom Manor.

“No! Please! Please have mercy!” A maid cried at his feet.

Lucca silenced her sobs. He didn't even twitch at the smell and sight of red oozing out of the corpse on the heart pine wood floors.

The staff that weren't on the floor cowered. Lucca brandished his sword and restained the wood red.

Yells echoed in his ears but he kept moving.

Lucca would get his revenge.

“Stop right there, you monster!”

He looked up to see a flock of knights blocking his advance.

“You won’t make it past us!” The knights all pointed their blades at him.

Lucca laughed. His face hardened and he charged. The sound of piercing flesh reverberated in the hallway.

“Wa-wait! Please spare me!” The last knight recoiled.

“Where is Count Balcom?” Lucca prompted.

“H-he’s in the ballroom. The re-rest of the ar-army is with him,” the cowering man gulped.

“Thanks.” Lucca stabbed the knight.

He stepped over the body and continued in the direction of the ballroom.

When Lucca reached the immense mahogany doors, his sword was dripping and his dark blue clothes were splattered with the same liquid.

When the doors swung open, shouts rang out.

“Stop! Drop your weapon!”

“Surrender and you might be spared!”

But one voice stood out. “You’re one brave young man. Your rampage ends here!” Lucca recognized the condescending tone.

He scoffed. All of his staff lay dead and all he did was barricade himself here.

Lucca swung his sword, cutting knights down left and right.

Count Balcom stared in horror at the man who was slaughtering his knights. A wary smile played on the count’s face. He was arrogant enough to think he was invincible. However, when Lucca towered over him, the smile fell off his face.

“Wait! Tell me what you want! Money? Power? Women?” Count Balcom reeled and Lucca stepped forward.

“If you want women, I have plenty of daugh–”

“Why did you burn that house in the forest five years ago?” Lucca cut him off.

Confusion marked the man’s face. “What?”

“And the girl. Why did you kill the girl in the carriage?” Lucca asked again.

After a long silence, it became apparent that the count didn’t know what Lucca was asking.

Lucca laughed. It was a sad, bitter and angry sound.

All that fury and resentment and anticipation for revenge. The five years he spent bending to powerful figures to get honour and wealth. They all amount to nothing if he couldn’t inflict pain and fear upon Count Balcom’s haughty face.

In his daze, Lucca didn’t notice when Count Balcom picked up a sword from a fallen knight.

“Die, you filthy peasant!” The count sloppily swung the sword in a feeble attempt at killing.

Lucca easily avoided the blade and retorted with a swing of his own. His sword plunged swiftly into Count Balcom's chest.

“I hope you rot in hell,” Lucca whispered in the count’s ear.

Lucca left the man in a bloody heap on the once beautiful heartwood floors and took off to find the rest of the Balcom family.

Now there was one left. The fifth daughter.

Lucca approached the fifth daughter’s chambers. She was the last piece to complete his revenge.

He opened the doors and an eerie creak sounded out. He found her standing in the room with her back to him. The moonlight barely illuminated her form.

Lucca’s sword grazed the wooden floors. He stopped right behind the woman. He knew she was the fifth daughter, yet he asked anyway, “Are you the fifth daughter of Count Balcom?”

She turned around and said, “No. I think you have the wrong person.”

Lucca scowled. He wasn’t expecting the sarcasm. The woman gave him a once-over.

Silence rang out. Big and heavy.

“Spare me!” cut the sinister quiet.

She boldly stared into his eyes.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate. No one associated with the Balcom name will live. He would make sure of it.

The woman frowned. “If-if I saved you and prevented that ‘incident’, would you spare me?”

He snickered. Nothing anyone did would erase the pain, guilt and sorrow. It won’t bring his family back to life, would it?

“No. The only way I would spare you is if you drain all of the Balcom blood from your body. Only then would you be spared.” As long as the Balcom blood ran through her veins he would kill her.

She flinched at the gleam of his ruby-coloured sword. With a sudden movement, the woman swallowed something and doubled over in pain. Lucca hesitated, confused. But just as quickly, she fell to the floor and clutched her chest.

A weird feeling washed over him. He blinked. However, when he opened his eyes again, it wasn't to the moonlit room.

◇◇◇

“Is he still in the wagon?” a masculine voice asked.

“Yeah, I made sure of it. The last thing we need is Count Balcom’s anger,” another answered.

Lucca looked around him, very bewildered. What he saw was an oak wood wagon. Crates and barrels filled it, crowding the small space. The contents were jostled around with the caravan’s movements.

He remembered this wagon. Lucca was brought to Balcom Manor on this wagon. Was this an illusion? Did that woman cast some spell on him?

The caravan abruptly halted to a stop. Lucca heard gravel crunching under leather boots before the back covering was removed.

“Come on, kid. Get out. Don’t pull any tricks or the girl gets it.” The same grotesque mercenary and the same words.

This wasn’t making any sense.

Lucca was roughly pulled out of the wagon and brought before Count Balcom.

“Let’s go, son. I’ll show you your new home.” The count stood at the front doors with a conceited grin on his lips.

He motioned for Lucca to go in first. Stepping inside, Lucca saw the foyer. The front hall was beautifully decorated. A grand and alluring glass chandelier graced the cream-coloured plaster ceiling. An immense wooden staircase stood at the back of the space. Lots of vases with colourful flowers filled the chestnut-coloured corners. In the heart of it, the staff and the occupants of the manor bowed in greeting of its owner.

A girl eased out of her curtsy and focused on him. She looked like a younger version of the fifth daughter. She frowned in confusion at the sight of him.

Did she place a curse on him? Was he now fated to relive the grief, regret and misery? Did she think that having him relive all of that would spare her?

Well, she was mistaken. He would never spare a living Balcom. Just like he lost everything and everyone he held dear and fell into misery he would make sure that they felt despair too.

“Hey, you!” Count Balcom rudely bellowed from behind him. “Take the boy to the dungeons.”

A maid nodded and hurried him down. Down to darkness and torture.

Lucca blinked and saw feminine features. The fifth daughter peered down at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I tried to be as gentle as possible. I’m sorry if it hurts.” 

Only then did Lucca notice the salve and gauze sitting beside the girl. The throb on his back was evidence of her treatment.

Was this some kind of new game? A new form of torture?

She pulled out bread from her bag. “Here, I got you some food.”

Lucca stared at her. Was she going to show him kindness and then brutally stab him in the back? Was she going to give him light in this blackness and then take it away?

She took out a pastel pink handkerchief and placed it with the bread in front of him.

He blinked three times.

“Don’t worry! I didn’t do anything to the bread. It’s not poisoned or anything,” she affirmed.

When he didn’t say anything, she sighed. “Alright. I’ll leave you alone.” She stood and dusted herself off. “I’ll come back tomorrow to heal your wounds and get you some food!”

Her absence didn’t quiet his raging thoughts.

The same events over the next 10 years repeated themselves. Getting killed at Count Balcom’s hand, waking up as the Divine Warrior, resealing Tanan and currying favour with the kings of the continent.

The only change was the death of Count Balcom’s fifth daughter. He found her in the same room but he managed to cut her down and she didn’t swallow anything.

Yet the same strange feeling engulfed him again.

◇◇◇

“He-her Ladyship isn't at th-the manor,” the attendant stammered.

“Explain,” Lucca urged.

“Sh-she left as so-soon as she turned 18. No one has he-heard anything from her ever since.”

Lucca laughed. So she was the one who sent him back in time. Did she think leaving would stop him?

With a slash of his sword, Lucca stopped the sputtering man in his tracks. “Thanks.”

The fluttering of Lucca's cape echoed in the soundless manor as he left in pursuit of the runaway lady.

“There you are. I finally found you,” Lucca spoke to her turned form.

She froze. “I admit that leaving the empire was a smart move on your part. It was quite hard to track you down,” Lucca continued.

She didn’t say anything.

“Well, I guess the chase ends here.” Lucca raised his sword and struck her.

For some reason, the sight of her blood on his sword and the sand made him frown. And the same weird feeling from before made him frown harder.

◇◇◇

At the sight of the same oak wood wagon for the fourth time, Lucca sighed deeply.

These time loops need to stop. And the fifth daughter of Count Balcom has the answer.

This time, Count Balcom’s fifth daughter got married to a baron in the countryside.

“Stupid wench! You dare talk back to me? If I tell you to do something, you do it! Why do you never learn?! Do I always have to beat you for you to understand?!”

Lucca shook as he saw the man strike her.

How dare he hurt her?

Lucca kicked down the door and pulled out his sword.

“Who dares to interrupt me?! I specifi–” Lucca didn't let him finish. He landed a blow on his jaw.

“Ho-how dare you!” the man spluttered on the floor.

Lucca scoffed. This man has some guts.

With a slash, the man’s head rolled. A low shriek made him turn around. The sight of the fifth daughter hunched over on the ground reminded him of his purpose.

The haze of anger cleared and the red faded away. He loomed over her.

What was he doing? She was the daughter of his enemy. He couldn’t be feeling bad for her. She was the reason he was reliving his life for the fourth time.

With another slash, Lucca killed her. And on cue, the strange feeling came again.

◇◇◇

“Th-the lady has gone crazy!”

“She was de-demanding ways to drain her bl-blood!”

“Count Balcom or-ordered her to re-re-recuperate at the southern villa!”

“She hurts herself all the time!”

“She has truly gone insane!”

Lucca’s steps reverberated in the hall of the Balcom Southern Villa. It wasn’t hard to locate. A quick interrogation of the servants also told him where the room of its occupant was.

He stopped at the door. Through hell or high water, I will find you and kill you.

Lucca opened the oak wood door. The room was nicely done in shades of light blue and white. But the appearance of the fifth daughter made him frown.

She was tucked into bed. But the iron chains holding her hands up were a morose contrast to the elegant room. Her head was down, her hair a curtain to her face.

He trod into the room and she looked up. The sight of her face was worse. Scratches lined her cheeks and there were bags under her eyes. Her body was skinny and marred by scars and wounds. Her eyes remained blank as she took him in.

For some reason, Lucca’s heart hurt. With a jolt, he realized that he hated seeing her like this. Helpless and wounded.

But Lucca wasn’t one for emotions. So he struck her anyway. His eyes closed in anticipation of the same feeling.

◇◇◇

She approached him. “Hello. Are you alright?”

“For injuring my precious daughter, you will receive 15 whips.” The count grinned creepily.

With a grip on her head, the girl responded, “N-no. Wh-when wronged, we sh-should give back tenfold what we received. I-it’s the Balcom way, right?”

“Take him to the dungeons and make sure to give him his punishment.” With that, Count Balcom departed.

At the intense throbbing from the whip marks, Lucca opened his eyes. He saw Count Balcom’s fifth daughter and scowled. She glared at him, shook her head and continued working.

She patched up his last wound, left some bread and got up. He watched her in silence. Why did she keep helping him, a murderer? No matter how many times he killed her, she treated him without fail.

“Why do you care?” His voice was a little hoarse.

“You got hurt because of me. Of course, I care,” she said firmly.

He scoffed and she shrugged.

She started leaving and Lucca crushed the urge to stop her. To tell her to stay. To tell her that she was the only kindness he experienced through all the time loops. To tell her that he–no he shouldn’t be having these thoughts. She was the daughter of his enemy and, therefore, his enemy as well.

Lucca turned to his side, giving her his back. He heard her footsteps fade away as he told himself to not be emotional. He couldn’t afford it. Survival wasn’t for the weak and emotional. And he certainly wasn’t weak and emotional.

◇◇◇

“Lucca! Are you listening to me?” Count Balcom’s fifth daughter exclaims.

“Ah.” Lucca nods.

She smiles. “So, as I was saying–” she continues telling her tale.

Truth is, Lucca didn't hear most of her story. He was too busy watching her animatedly talking.

Tags!

@dreamlessnight

[dark-moonlust]

Bonds Of Fate: Comission for @dragonqueen2021

I had a great time writing this. I absolutely love how it turned out. Happy reading everyone!

I have one commission slot open on Patreon if you’re interested. I will add more slots when I am less busy!

Pairing: Centaur (Leon) x Werewolf (Val) x fem!human (Melisa)

Summary: Melisa is struggling to get away from the men who are chasing her only to stumble upon a towering werewolf and centaur. They protect her and sense she is their mate. They show her that no matter how reluctant she is, that they belong together.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, explicit smut, fingering, magic to fit, huge 🍆, p in v sex, oral, dp, lots 💦.

They were catching up on her.

Melisa pumped her legs, her heart pounding in her chest. She ran through the forest, her breathing ragged. Her knees were weak, her clothes torn by branches but she didn’t dare slow down. Not with the men chasing right behind her, leering and shouting. They were four of them. They’d tried to attack her but she’d fled from them, sprinting like the devil was chasing her. But she had no chances unless by some miracle someone stronger intervened.

But she didn’t believe in miracles. Only in herself.

And right now, the only solution was to keep running and eventually lose them in the woods.

Desperate, she took a sharp turn, darting around trees and over fallen logs. The voices became distant and suddenly, a small ray of hope appeared in the shape a small cabin. Help! Maybe she could get help there, or at least a place to hide. She ran to the cabin, frantic and terrified. She stumbled over a branch, lost balance—

But the fall never came.

She had crashed into something solid and warm.

She looked up and a gasp left her dry lips. No… no this couldn’t be!

Two massive figures surrounded her, dwarfing her small frame. The one holding her was a werewolf, tall and towering with dark fur, amber eyes and a scowling mouth, revealing sharp fangs. His furry arms encompassed her waist. His hold was tight but strangely, gentle enough. Next to her was a centaur, his chiselled human torso merging into the body of a large, muscular horse. His face was sharp and handsome, his animal mane an earthy dark brown, like his eyes.

Melisa struggled to escape, but the werewolf didn’t loosen his hold and kept staring at her with his shining amber eyes. 

That was when the centaur talked, “She’s terrified. Be gentle with her.”

The werewolf sniffed the air. “Someone’s coming. Four of them.”

Melissa trembled at that and struggled to find her voice. “P… please, they’re after me.”

Before she could explain further, the group of men had caught up. They burst into the clearing and stopped short when they saw the werewolf and centaur shielding her. The men exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t back down. They held up their weapons and circled them.

“It’s four of us against two of you,” one of the men sneered. “Beasts or not, we can take you.”

The centaur stepped forward, his hooves thudding on the ground. “Leave. Now.”

“Hand over the woman and we’ll leave,” another man demanded, his leery eyes on Melisa. “She’s ours.”

The werewolf growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “She belongs to no one.”

“You’re in our land”, the centaur warned, his behaviour more controlled. “Leave now or pay the price. The woman is under our protection.”

The men didn’t heed the warning.

They lunged forward, weapons poised high. But they were no match for them. Keeping Melisa tucked between their bodies, her protectors struck, hooves and claws tricking out. They pushed back her attackers, knocking their weapons with deadly punches and feral growls. The fight ended as quickly as it had begun and the men retreated, bruised and barely able to walk, fleeing with screeching cries.

Melisa looked at her saviours with wide eyes, gratitude and fear for what came next flooding her heart. She huddled into a small ball on the ground, her mind reeling. They’d saved her but what now? Was she dead meat? At their mercy? Humans spread all kinds of horrible rumours about creatures like them.

“You’re safe now,” the werewolf kneeled beside her, his eyes on her. “I’m Leon. You are safe.”

“I am Val,” the centaur said, “no one will harm you. Why were they after you?”

Melissa took a deep breath and peeked at them. “Bad intentions. I did nothing wrong I swear!”

“We believe you,” Val said. “And we’ll protect you. No one will dare lay a hand on you.”

“You won’t eat me?” Melisa said and heard them laugh.

“We don’t eat humans, little one,” Leon said, the timbre of his voice tender. Not the way you think, he thought but kept it to himself. He didn’t want to terrify her.

“Promise?” Melisa asked, her heart beating frantically within her chest.

“We promise,” Leon said and slowly reached for her hands. They were small and soft in contrast to his own rough palms. 

She tensed at the touch but did not draw away. 

Val also knelt, leaning down to frame her cheek. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, his tone so soft that somehow eased her.

“You’re here now,” Leon said and before she could react, he sniffed her, his snout burying in her hair.

Melisa shivered but again, she didn’t move. Something inside her made her feel safe with them, something that told her it was okay. Leon and Val exchanged looks, their faces unreadable. Just then, she felt an inexplicable pull, something squeezing her heart. Something strange was happening. She felt hot and she also felt the warmth radiating from their bodies.

Val’s hand tangled into her hair, his breath hot against her forehead. “Found you,” he uttered, growling deep from within his chest.

“F-found what?” she stuttered, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. It awakened feelings she hadn’t expected to feel and they went straight to her pussy. Warmth pooling, aching delightfully. 

“Yessss, so good,” Leon inhaled the air, his baritone causing another shiver of arousal.

“Such a sweet scent,” Val said, his mane brushing against her skin.

“What’s going on?” Melisa attempted to crawl away, but their gazes held her captive.

“Mate,” Val explained. “You’re our mate.”

“No!” She took a step back, away from their tempting touches. “That’s impossible. We can’t! We can’t do this.”

“We’ll protect you. You have nothing to be afraid of,” Val said and lifted her, pulling her chest to chest.

“Please…” Melisa’s lips quivered, her eyes brimming with tears. She was suspended in the air, pressed so tightly against the centaur’s broad chest.

“Shh… my sweet love.”

And then Val was kissing her, his hands cupping her face, keeping her there for his sweet assault. Melisa squirmed but relented with a sigh, giving in to the pressure of his body and lips. A moan left her when the full length of Leon’s body rubbed against her back. The werewolf was hugging her from behind, spreading licks and kissed across her neck.

“Yes,” Val whispered. “Don’t be afraid. Let us scent you.”

Before she could protest, Leon angled her head to the side and tasted her lips as well. Melisa moaned, and he took advantage, his tongue slipping past her mouth, tasting, claiming. More moans left her as he kissed and fed from her mouth, her resolve wavering, her body betraying her.

She was shamefully wet, her nipples tight and aching.

And they knew, or more rightly, they sensed.

The haze of need took over her senses as they kissed her, taking turns claiming her mouth, their tongues brushing with hers. Before she realized, Val’s hands were tugging at her clothes, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt while Leon tugged down her pants and panties. They cooperated despite her reluctance, their hands pulling everything off until she was naked, fully bared to them.

Melisa shook all over and not from the cold.

She was naked, arousal pooling in her belly.

And they were naked too. Leon had dragged off his pants, revealing a thick veiny cock and two heavy balls hanging from between. Val had also removed the harness that concealed his shaft and her eyes widened at the massive size of it. It was thicker than Leon’s though not as long.

Still… the sight of them so well-endowed, made her cower a little.

Val shifted a little, so he did not terrify her with his size and turned her over so she was facing Leon. The centaur’s warm chest pressed against her back while the werewolf bent, his fur teasing her nipples. His tongue traced the curve of her neck, while Val’s lips pressed gentle kisses to her temple. When their hands started roaming her body, Melisa bit her lip hard as not to whine. Val’s human hands trailed her slender shoulders then cupped the swell of her breasts. He kneaded the sensitive flesh, thumbs flicking her sensitive nipples.

“So soft,” Val said, pinching her nipples lightly and causing her to arch and whimper.

“Hmm…” Leon hummed from where he trailed kisses down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton. His lips danced between her legs but Melisa kept them shut tightly.

“Nn…nooo,” she muttered while Val’s lips found her neck, suckling gently.

“Open sweetheart,” Leon rasped, his thumbs rubbing her thighs invitingly. “Open for us.”

“We’re going to make you feel so good,” Val said, his breath hot against her ear.

Leons’s hands stayed on her legs while he took a nipple into his warm mouth. He circled the bud causing her to moan then took it into his mouth, suckling. Melissa wiggled helplessly between them. They had trapped her, trapped her between their strong bodies and she felt no fear, only desire. Mindbreaking desire. Eventually, her legs opened and Leon’s hand slid between them, his fingers teasing her folds.

“Fuuuuck,” Leon growled, his warm breath fanning over her core. “She’s even softer here. Warm and soaked.”

Melissa gasped, her body trembling as Leon spread her out and made room for Val to slide his fingers and feel her as well. The centaur manipulated her folds, his fingers probing her moist entrance while Leon found her clit, teasing the bud with feather-light strokes.

“Oh god,” she moaned, her knees weakening.

Val grasped her from under the knees, lifting her back against him, opening and exposing her in all her glory. Leon retracted his claws and rubbed his finger back and forth on her little cunt. He lubricated that finger in her juices, then thrust it inside her slick heat. Melisa whimpered as that digit, as thick as a human dick, curled deep inside her. It stretched her pussy, delightfully so.

Immense warmth spread through her as they teased her, her toes curling in the air. Leon’s eyes were shining amber, she noticed, and Val was rubbing her clit, murmuring words in a language she couldn’t understand. Her pussy tingled, her muscles seizing. Her mind was a whirl of sensation and arousal, and soon their strokes pushed her over the edge, stars flashing in her vision.

“Wh…what did you do?” she panted watching where they were still caressing her. With shock she noticed that both their fingers were deep, very deep inside her, stretching her pussy at its limits. But she felt no discomfort at the stretch.

“That was our combined magic,” Leon explained, giving her sensitive clit a lick. “It will make it easier for you to take us.”

“You will take Leon’s cock first. He will stretch your little hole and prepare you for me,” the centaur whispered, his fingers spreading apart her outer labia, offering her fluttering hole to the werewolf.

Melisa glanced between them, then at Leon. He was pumping his wolf shaft, the tip was a slightly pointy, leaking pre-cum. Val kept her legs open from under the knees and watched as Leon rubbed his shaft against her pussy. A soft hitch left her when the cock entered her depths and filled her up, until Leon’s hairy balls pressed against her bum.

All three of them gasped.

Melisa felt full at the invasion, body stretched to its limits but blissfully craved more. Leon gave more to her, his cock plundering her depths as if it was made to dominate her. Meanwhile, Val pinched and teased her bouncing breasts, his eyes glued to the sight of her little slit being forced open by Leon’s cock. She whined, overstimulated and Leon increased his thrusts, his hips snapping repeatedly.

Pussy clenching, Melisa came with a cry, her orgasm tearing through her in an explosion of senses. She thrashed, but Val held her steady while Leon pistoned inside her, his knot swelling and catching at the rim. Then with a roar, the werewolf thrust to the hilt and locked their bodies, spurting rope after rope of cum inside her. Melisa winced at the sensations, his seed was warm and filled her up to the brim, the knot plugging everything up.

Once his knot subsided, Val was next to claim her. The centaur bent down and kissed her and this time, her lips parted eagerly. His tongue tasted her mouth, their tongues brushing together. He pressed her to a makeshift bed of moss and leaves, on her hands and knees. Ass up in the air, Val caressed her asscheeks before his huge horse body covered her.

Something thick and pulsing pressed against her pussy. Leon assisted, spreading her folds so that Val could press the broad head of his cock against her tight heat. Her pussy was drenched and cum-stained so with a nudge, the centaur’s girth popped inside. Melisa whined obscenely, clutching the earth in her fists. Val was thick, impossibly thick, her belly bulging with his size.

Yet he surged inside her and fit perfectly, owning her pussy until he was pulsing so deep, she felt him close to her heart. Hooves digging into the earth, Val claimed her, his cock squelching as it fucked her. Her frame buckled with each slam, rocking against his massive cock. He hit all the right spots, and she couldn’t stop moaning.

“Feels good mate, doesn’t it?” Val growled, his mane tossing wildly with his thrusts.

“Hmm—so good…” Melisa nodded fervently, her walls tightening around him. “More! More!”

“Look at our needy little mate,” Leon rumbled and kissed her moaning lips. “Takes us cocks like a good girl and asks for more. She deserves it all. All our seed, hm?”

“Yes,” she nodded fervently. “Want you. Want your seed.”

“That’s it, take him deep,” Leon urged, watching your soaked cunt swallow Val’s cock. “Take it all.”

“Going to breed our pretty mate,” Val panted, picking up speed. “Fill her with our seed to bursting until she’s carrying our offspring.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Val sent her over the edge and she moaned wildly, her voice echoing through the forest. Pleasure tingled everywhere, her muscles convulsing violently. Triggered by her climax, the centaur shuddered and exploded into her, spilling buckets of cum that filled her to bursting. Her belly bulged, much of it overflowing and dribbling down her pussy lips.

From there on, everything turned into a pleasure haze.

They fucked her, two huge beasts claiming her as their mate, keeping her pussy stretched and filled with their cum. Leon knotted her again and again, and Val filled her up with so much cum, she was bathed in it. It was intense, one orgasm crashing over her after the other. She barely had one cock out before it got replaced. They took care of her mouth too, teaching her how to lick and suck them deep. They alternated so when one fucked her pussy, the other was deep down her throat.

It went on and on through the night— them filling her, stroking her, putting her in all kinds of positions, drawing out her pleasure and building it anew. They whispered lovewords, praised her and swore to protect her, to make her proud to have them as mates. And the more they claimed her, the more she accepted them, yielding to her mates.

Yes, they were hers. Both of them, beastly yet in love with her, strong yet soft with her. And she was theirs, in every way.

By morning, they finally spilled the last of their cum inside her. Exhausted but sated, Melissa lay between them, her womb filled with their hot seed. Val and Leon took her into their cabin, tucked her into their massive bed and held her close. Melissa tried to keep herself from sleeping but she was exhausted, so utterly safe and comfortable between them.

“Sleep, little mate,” Val whispered, kissing her eyelids.

Melisa stifled a yawn. “I’m afraid to wake up and realize that this was all a dream.”

Leon chuckled. “It’s not a dream, sweetheart. We are very real. We are your home now.”

“Are you mine? Forever?” she asked, aching for those magnificent males to be hers and hers alone.

“We belong to you," Val drawled. "And you belong to us now; body and soul...all ours."

Melissa smiled and drifted into a blissful sleep, knowing that her life would never be the same again.

She had found hope and love.

THE END

[hiraethwrote]

A TICKET IN YOUR NAME

pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : the charity auction you're in charge of is closing in, and there's still a ticket reserved in his name. your executives are on your neck about wanting a clear answer if the pro player will be able to attend - with no regards for the fact that you broke up three months ago cw : pro player!kageyama, break up, post-timeskip, reader wears a dress, angst, bittersweet, heavy yearning, regret, slight profanity, lowkey self indulgent lol, no use of y/n word count : 5.8k

“Kageyama? Hey, it’s me.”

A ray of cold ran down his spine as your all too familiar voice rang in his ear, tearing painfully at his heart from the first syllable. God, how he had missed those melodic vibrations he now only heard in his dreams.

When the unknown number popped up on his phone screen, his first instinct was to let it go straight to voicemail. But for whatever reason, the voice in the back of his mind told him he should pick it up — he definitely didn’t expect to be greeted with the unforgettable tone of your voice, causing his heart to bang against its cage.

And you had called him Kageyama, instantly pulling out the amateur stitching he had applied to the tears in his heart.

It made him feel a little sick, his last name sounding foreign on your tongue. You never did that, because he hadn’t allowed it. When it came to you, he wanted to be close, intimate, especially since distance came so naturally to all of his relationships. And one thing that separated you from the rest, you called him Tobio.

Or you used to.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything-“

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, you’re good.”

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase-“ the sentence came to an abrupt halt when he swore he heard you take a sharp breath, as if you had to contain deep emotions that threatened to overtake your sense of calm. “Management keep bugging me about your ticket for the charity auction.”

“Right,” he said it so quietly he wasn’t entirely sure the microphone picked it up.

“I don’t even know if you’re in town then,” lie — a complete and utter fabrication to try and convince him, but also yourself, that you weren’t still hung up on the past — like you didn’t have his schedule for the next seven months logged into your phone, knowing very well he was in fact still available that evening. “But the ticket is still reserved in your name, and I promised my executives I would provide them with a clear answer if you were attending or not.” Again you cut yourself off, a shaky breath traveling the line, something he had learned long ago was a clear indicator that you were fighting back tears. “Told them I’d have an answer by the end of the week.”

Of course he hadn’t forgotten about the auction — you had stressed about it for months even before you broke up, being in charge of putting the whole event together. The red circle in his calendar marking the date kept coming closer and closer, and he had wondered if you would reach out to ask about it — now he had his answer.

“I’m in town,” he muttered simply, closing his eyes as he just waited for your voice to return.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you into attending or anything. If it’ll make you uncomfortable, I’m sure I’ll figure something out-“

“It won’t make me uncomfortable.” He was a little surprised by how soft his voice came out, but it was true — he would never be uncomfortable around you. “Next Saturday, right?”

“You remembered?”

“Got it circled.”

“Figured.” Silence swallowed the conversation, and it felt so unnatural. It was only with you he was able to engage in a conversation that flowed like a peaceful stream. He had been deprived of that privilege for so long, and his strangling feelings were slowly piling up inside him, weighing heavy on his heart.

He could picture you so clearly, down to the smallest detail. Right now you were probably sat behind your desk in your office, resting your forehead in the palm of your hand. And if he was still able to interpret your behaviour correctly, simply based on your tone, he suspected there were salty pools welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over any second.

At this hour, you were probably left alone in the company building, everyone else having gone home already. And he pictured you were longing to go home too, so you could change out of the boring corporate attire he knew you hated with a fiery passion. The second you were to set foot inside your apartment, you would walk straight for your closet to put on your favourite slacks — maybe, if you hadn’t thrown them out already, you would wear his old hoodie as well. “They feel like home,” you always used to say before melting into the piece of clothing that was too big for you.

It was most likely a naive fantasy, but Tobio liked to toy with the image nonetheless.

You stole his attention from his spiralling when you sighed, shifting the entire tension of the conversation into something more serious, deprived from emotion. “Black tie event. Prepare for press, the company won’t be shy about any notable names. Pro player Kageyama Tobio is one of those names. Just let me know where you’re staying, and we’ll send a car to take you to the location.”

The business voice had taken the phone call hostage, barely recognising the voice on the other end of the line. The only time you used it for not work related occasions was when you were mad at him...

“Great, thank you.”

A beat of silence. “Again, sorry to bother you. I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t… bother me.”

It felt awkward now. The ice was broken, the no-contact had failed, and now neither of you wanted to let go despite not being able to find any words to feed the conversation.

For a split second Tobio was overcome with courage, having to clear his throat before he opened his mouth, “hey, how are you-“

“I’ll see you next Saturday.” His attempt was shut down instantly, rushing to hang up after blurting out your goodbyes.

Your phone hit the desk with an obnoxious rattle before your hands came flying to cover your face, aggressive sobs tumbling past your lips.

Even though you missed him, his voice, the comfort he provided, you just did not have the strength it required to indulge in casual conversation with him. It hurt too much.

Time heals all wounds — what a load of bullshit, because here you sat, three months after the most earth shattering heartbreak you had ever experienced and it still served as an aching gash in your life.

Since that horrid night, you had delved head first into work to distract yourself as best as you could. It had been a privilege to be able to fill your time so you could ignore dealing with the issue at hand — a privilege you had taken for granted as your sobs filled the vacant space of your lonely office.

In less than two weeks, you would be forced to look him in the eyes again. You had to paint your face with a smile, smother your sorrows for the sake of the company as he was expected to stay at your side for the evening.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to pull this one ashore after all.

As promised, a fancy black car had pulled up exactly at the time you had texted him.

The entire car ride was spent in a one sided conversation, where the driver tried to initiate polite small talk only to be met with quiet sounds that barely confirmed Tobio was even listening.

He was too busy trying to plant his feet back on the ground, nerves traveling his body from head to toe. Every ten seconds he tilted his head to check his phone just in case you had sent him any further information about tonight that he needed to be aware of. He was left disappointed every time when there never appeared a notification with your name attached.

Sooner rather than later, flashing lights surrounded the car and he knew they had reached the destination.

This was a part of the job he had never gotten used to, and some part of him would probably always struggle with the attention that came with his career path.

Reluctantly stepping out of the car, he braced himself for the overwhelming noice of the press shouting to grab is attention.

It was only so much his PR training sufficed. He would wave awkwardly, try to smile and present himself as nicely as possible so his managers wouldn’t be on his neck about the bad impression he’d given off — but no amount of training was able to calm his nerves.

Only you did that.

Whenever he had to make public appearances, you were the one to help his feet back on the ground and remind him it wasn’t scary. You would lace your fingers with his, gently press your body against his side with such grace. And you would look at him, your eyes whispering quiet affirmations; you’re doing great, okay? I’m with you every step of the way.

Deprived of your safety, he was overthinking every move he did. Was it obvious how fake the small tilt of his lips were? Who was he kidding, they probably didn’t even see what was his attempt at a smile. Was the outfit okay? Had he picked out the wrong outfit, showing up underdressed to your special night? No, he had purposely chosen a safe option, one he knew you liked. Was his steps towards the entrance too slow? No wait, shit- now he was walking too fast.

He couldn’t be too sure he had been able to pull off the image his managers wanted, but he had at least gotten himself through the doors of the venue.

He had no time to react before he was approached by a neatly dressed individual with a clipboard in her hands. “Mr. Kageyama? Follow me.”

Croaking a quiet ‘okay’, Tobio didn’t know what else to do than do as she said, eventually ending up in a secluded, yet spacious hallway. There were only a few people scattered about, all seemingly rather busy.

Then his eyes landed on a familiar frame that he would recognise any time and any place, forever burned into his memory. Your bare back facing him, phone to your ear as frustration pulled your shoulders high.

Everything else seemed to disappear when he heard your voice, “no, no, it’s supposed to be four-“ you spun around, and the sentence died instantly once your eyes automatically locked with his.

He fell for the temptation, trying to be as subtle as possible as he let his eyes travel you up and down. You were breathtaking, all dolled up in a floor length, satin gown in deep maroon. There was a shy slit in your skirt, and your exposed arms were decorated with the prettiest jewlery.

But what had his breath catch in his throat was the familiar pendant resting right on the centre of your chest — the dainty necklace he recognised as his gift for you for your first anniversary.

“Mr. Kageyama, as requested,” the stranger said before hurrying away to attend other tasks.

“Just… I trust you’ll be able you fix it,” you spoke softly into the phone before hanging up, never breaking eye contact.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed the moment he had seen you again, “hey.”

“Hi,” you said weakly, your nerves driving you to pull at your own fingers. The action captured his eyes which instantly had you hide your hands behind your back. You knew all too well what was running through his mind at the moment, having a nearly primal desire to interrupt it.

One could cut the tension with a knife, thick and suffocating, with so many lingering feelings resting in the prolonged eye contact.

You reached within yourself, closing your eyes for a second to force away your uneasiness. Once they opened, and met his again, all evidence of previous sentiments were gone and replaced with business. Your shoulders lowered slightly, arms moving in front of you again and your entire stance straightening with a newfound sense of confidence.

“Great! You picked a good outfit,” was the nicest compliment you were able to pay him without completely succumbing to the sadness that was walking a fine line, ready to overtake you at any second. “It’s perfect for the evening.”

He tilted his head forward bashfully to hide the small smirk of amusement that formed at his lips because he knew you were being modest in your observations. It wasn’t unintentional that he’d put on the all black, three piece suit you had helped him purchase when he was first signed.

It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but he remembered how you had gladly joined him when he was in such a desperate need for a formal wear he could pull out on special occasions. He would never forget how your lips had parted and eyes widened when he came out in that suit, unable to peer your eyes off of him. He’d watched as you had actively swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding in approval, rather enthusiastically.

“Glad to hear it,” he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You look great, by the way. But that’s no surprise.”

For a split second your front wavered with a weak smile. You wouldn’t allow the fragility to settle — you could not afford that tonight, of all nights.

You spun on your heel, walking down the hall in the opposite direction. Tobio didn’t hesitate to follow.

“They’re opening the doors for the other guests very soon, and in roughly twenty minutes I have to go up on stage to welcome everyone. The auction will start shortly after that.” You stopped abruptly outside a huge door, nearly causing him to crash into you. Resting your hand on the handle, he watched how it clenched around the metal. “I’ll find you after. You’re technically still my da-… my plus one.”

Without sparing him another look, you simply opened the door and entered the ballroom, leaving the word ‘date’ hang unfinished in the air.

How had the two of you gotten to this point?

His future used to be so clear — he saw his entire life headed in a direction he had never dared to dream of, based on the fear of its unlikelihood. You brought safety and comfort to his life, which had grown somewhat turbulent after garnering some fame within the world of athletes — no matter how things turned out, it would be okay, because he still had you.

But now he had to control how he didn’t let his gaze linger for too long, because it could be crossing a boundary that previously didn’t exist. He had to hold his tongue so he didn’t bombard you with all the affection he still had for you, because that wasn’t his job anymore.

Slowly but surely, the ballroom started to fill up with an assortment of characters, all ready to spend their money on the extravagant auction. Tobio found himself standing awkwardly in the same spot you left him, along the outskirts of the growing crowd, feeling beyond uncomfortable.

And though he knew he should mingle, all he was able to do was let his eyes follow you when you eventually made your way onto the stage. The music came to a slow stop, the crowd calmed down and everyone’s eyes were on you.

To everyone else, you probably seemed in control of yourself, confident even — but Tobio was still able to read you like a book, rarely having seen you as nervous as right now. Your smile was bright, but very clearly forced as your eyes roamed the audience frantically.

Suddenly you looked at him, meeting his eyes that were always so soft — a feature that somehow always caught you a little by surprise. He was often so stoic, his eyebrows always just slightly tilted in a frown. But his eyes betrayed his cold exterior, conveying a tenderness you had never really seen in anyone else.

With the familiar safety of his gaze, your breathing evened out and shoulders relaxed, which he noticed. He flashed you a small smile before giving you a reassuring nod, telling you there was nothing to be scared of — because after everything, he would still catch you if you were to fall.

Exhaling deeply, you started the welcome speech, your smile now genuine. He followed every single word that fell from your lips with immense professionalism, and every once in a while when your eyes found him in order to ground yourself, his heart would skip a beat.

“Once again, thank you all for attending and I hope you all enjoy the evening.” The crowd erupted into polite applause while you walked down from the stage gracefully.

“You did great,” Tobio breathed as you had joined him again.

“Thank god,” you sighed. “That speech has kept me awake all week.”

“No, it was good. Very professional.” You turned to look at him, a beautiful smile painting your lips as old habits steered your hand for his face.

When you realised what you were about to do, your face fell, hand freezing inches before making contact with his cheek. In all the stress of being up on that stage with everyone’s eyes glued on you, you had forgotten the nerves caused by your ex boyfriend.

It had just come so naturally to you, to caress his cheek. It was a gesture you always did whenever he would come with one of his simple compliments.

“Sorry,” you whispered, quickly retracting your hand.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he stuttered sadly. Tobio had held his breath from the moment he’d noticed your hand raise from your side.

He had frozen still once he realised what was about to happen in hopes that if he didn’t move, you would continue in your trance and he’d eventually feel your flesh pressed against his face. He’d been deprived of the sensation for so long, and he was left disappointed when the feeling never arrived.

Was this how the evening was going to play out? Standing beside each other for hours in an awkward and unnatural silence, both too scared to do anything in fear of offending the other?

Tobio wanted to say something, but small talk had never been his strong suit — that was always your area of expertise, fill the void with chatter so no one was left feeling uncomfortable.

“You planning to bid on anything?” It was as if you had been able to read his mind, saving him from his ever spiralling mind.

“No, not really,” he said simply. “You?”

He turned to look at you, feeling a sense of relief as you let out a small snicker, observing how the auction was about to start.

“I may be in charge of this entire thing, but that doesn’t mean I have the money to get any of the things they’ve put up,” you sighed. “That trip to the Maldives looking really good right now, though.”

For a split second, Tobio heavily considered putting all his money on that trip for you. He imagined being able to walk beside you along the crystal blue shores of the Maldives, peace and relaxation washing over you to the point where you would finally have the time to take proper breaths.

But it was but a mere dream, only a reality in the depths of his mind where he was allowed to fantasise that you were still his.

For the next three hours, you stood side by side as you witnessed all the luxuries items being auctioned off one by one. Every once in a while you would shoot a casual comment in hopes it would lighten the looming cloud that hung over you — it remained persistent.

It didn’t go unnoticed, how the tension in your shoulders never completely evaporated. Even when your bosses came to shower you with praise for all the hard work you’d done, or when you were updated on the insane sum of money that would be donated, your shoulders remained permanently raised half an inch.

He could only suspect it was his presence that caused the strain. Maybe it had been a bad idea of him to attend.

In hindsight he could see how it was nothing short of selfish — because what other reason for attending would he have than only wanting to see you again? He didn’t serve any more purpose than decoration. His name wasn’t even among the most noticeable, so it wasn’t like he brought any more traction to the event than it already had.

Maybe it would be best if he just bolted, let you be able to enjoy what could be considered your evening. You should be proud, celebrate the success of your hard work.

As the auction had slowly evolved into a party, several pairs had decided to move along to the beautiful rhythm that filled the ballroom. Tobio would shoot shy glances towards you, spotting how you were staring longingly at the dance floor.

“You want to dance?”

“What?”

Shit — he hadn’t meant to blurt it out. He genuinely thought the question simply floated in his mind to entertain his fantasy. Seemed like his subconscious had more power than he thought when the words slipped past his lips.

And now you were stood ogling him in shock, arms wrapped around yourself as you were visibly trying to comprehend his question.

He cleared his throat, trying to find the confidence he used to have with you once upon a time. “Would you like to dance?” He asked again, voice steadier than he would have anticipated.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you considered his request. “Okay,” you whispered, his heart skipping a beat.

This was not the time to let his confidence waver, offering his elbow like a gentleman, holding his breath as he waited for you to hook your arm with his.

Stood in the middle of the dance floor facing each other, you tried to calm your rapid breathing as you waited for him to take the lead.

With slight hesitation you placed your right hand on his shoulder. And it seemed like he picked up on the reluctance in your movements, because his right hand grabbed a hold of yours to have it stretched out — reminding you how big they were compared to yours.

But when you felt his left hand make contact with your bare back, you couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath, igniting memories you had so sorely tried to forget.

In the dead of night, when it seemed like the two of you were the only people left in the world, he would place his lips tenderly along your back, pulling soft giggles from you as his breath tickled you when it brushed against your skin.

And now his warm hand was resting within the ghost of those kisses, reminding you not only of the private and intimate moments shared together, but also just how gentle he was with you.

To say Tobio was a little rough around the edges was an understatement. He could definitely be crass, tone bordering on cruel when talking to someone, despite having no ill intentions whatsoever. His face was nearly permanently stamped with a frown, seemingly always in a bad mood to the untrained eye.

The Tobio people saw on court was also ruthless. Always giving it his all, whether if it was his calculated sets or his powerful serves — he never showed his opponents mercy.

But the second a match was over, and he was reunited with you, all edge seemed to disappear. Same strong hands that had recently performed fiercely on the court, would now cup your face with utmost care while you shied away from prying eyes.

Same tender touch was pressed lovingly against your back in this very moment — and it felt so safe. The security he always supplied in his embrace came to show so easily. Taking care of you was second nature to him, even now after everything.

“Never known you to be a dancer,” you said carefully as he started to take the lead, moving surprisingly graciously along to the music.

“I’m full of surprises,” he dared to joke with the faintest smirk.

“Never known you to be a guy of surprises either,” you quipped, having his smirk stretch a little wider.

He turned to scan the other couples, leaving you to just admire him.

He really was beautiful, and he didn’t even seem to be the slightest bit aware of the fact. When going about his day, he never brought attention to himself so it was easy to forget — until it struck you like lightning from clear skies, suddenly and all at once.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight,” he breathed, shifting his attention back to your face. It caught you off guard, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, scared he caught you in your admiration.

“You really think so?”

“Definitely. I’m really impressed.” Again you had his heart skip a beat, when for the first time this evening, you flashed him a wide and genuine grin.

“Thank you.”

“Then again-“ he began, a little scared to continue when you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “You’ve always been impressive.”

Finally your stress released. Your shoulders lowered and you relaxed in his arms, a softness in your features he had been waiting to reunite with.

This was Tobio — the person you had shared countless conversations about all and nothing with, who knew you inside out. There wasn’t any reason for it to be uncomfortable. Why not make the best out of the situation?

“Volleyball’s going great, I hear,” you breathed, a newfound, though a little unsteady, contentment in your voice.

He nodded slowly, “yeah, you could say that,” a shameless smile of pride curling his lips upwards.

“Bet you can see the end of the road to being the best, now?”

“Staring to spot it,” he mused, acting a lot more humble than you were used to.

“Only Oikawa ahead of you now. Heard he’s still considered to be a remarkable setter-“

“Oh, shut up,” he said with a roll of the eyes, your words trailing into soft giggles.

“You know I’m just kidding. I’ve known you to be the best all along,” you said softly, slowly melting into his embrace more and more by the second.

And by the way he was looking at you right now, with a sense of safety that would always make you feel some sort of belonging, no matter what, you’d never be entirely lost when with Tobio.

It seemed like he felt it too. So many shared moments was coming back to him when being allowed to gaze into your eyes again, especially after all this time — he was scared he might end up spiralling if he let himself sink too deep in the familiar comfort of you.

You couldn’t help but flinch when he broke the eye contact, clearing his throat when he once again observed the surrounding crowd. “Do you think…”

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think they’ll write about this?” He scoffed, nodding in the direction of the not so subtle press who had very clearly been snapping pictures of you.

You shrugged. “I’m not worried,” you breathed, “we were never really public enough to be prolific, were we?”

The soft sound of your nervous chuckle drew his attention right back to you. He shouldn’t be too surprised that something as simple as the sound of your laugh and the twinkle in your eye could threaten to have him fall back in again — he knew he was weak. He felt it every day, with every beat of his heart, how it pulled at him to return to you.

You were dangerous that way, both to him and yourself. Your eyes would always betray you when they were staring at him, your devotion clear as day. It was always simmering just below the surface no matter how far apart you were.

“Besides, I mean, I am really just some nobody working behind the scenes in some big company. I’m no one really cares about-“

A frustrate groan shot past his teeth, spotting how his eyebrows narrowed in the angle he so often sported. “You’ve never been a nobody.” He drew a breath, a distinctly sharp one, his lips drawing in a thin line as he churned what words to say next. “You’re more than a nobody. You’re more than a somebody. You matter. You’re the only one who matters.” His voice was stern, but surprisingly calm — which only made it worse.

You couldn’t wrap your head around how he managed to serve such insanely deep and powerful declaration as it was nothing. It was like he had no idea what kind of weight his words carried, no regard for what impact it might have on you.

And there was a very simple explanation to that — because to him it was nothing. It was just the truth, which always came easy to him.

He noticed the inner corners of your eyebrows tighten, painting your face with sorrow as the corner of your lips drooped south.

“There were reasons, right? Reasons we broke up?” He asked carefully. As his volume lowered, he tilted his head forward, bringing him so painfully close.

Your sad eyes flittered between his, his crystal pools of blue that always enforced the intensity of his messages, and you began to think.

When you could feel his love still pulsating off of him, and his slightly calloused thumb sending sparks throughout your body as it subconsciously moved back and forth in soft swipes along your spine, it was hard to remember any one reason for why things ended at all.

“Yeah,” you sighed solemnly, nodding slowly, “yeah, I’m sure there was.”

The deep breath he took brushed against your face, and you had to swallow the little sob that harboured deep in your throat. “Do you miss it?”

You instantly knew what he really asked — did you miss him — the real meaning wasn’t hard to deduce, Tobio had always been horrible at hiding his real intentions.

“Sure, some days more than others,” your voice cracked slightly. It was only for a faint second, but it flashed across his face how it wasn’t necessarily the answer he wanted, a hint of anger threatening to scrunch his face. But it evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s not easy, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“You see right through me, huh?” It sounded as he was attempting to pull the mood up, but when there was no rise in his tone nor an optimistic twitch in his expression, he failed miserably.

“Well, still know you better than I know myself.”

Silence fell between you, still letting the safety of his arms guide you along to the symphonies that filled the ballroom. You were so close to falling in, completely surrender to the serenity you knew would come over you if you just gave in.

“You know, if there was something I did, I am really sor-“

“Can we pretend?” You cut him off. “Just for tonight, can we just forget everything and pretend?”

His lips parted in surprise. Your antsy nerves creeped back into your body when he slowly pulled back, certain he would turn the request down.

And he knew he should. In a matter of seconds, the healing you’d both gone through up until this point would be undone. But he wasn’t strong enough, especially after having been at war with that antagonising devil on his shoulder all night. With your request egging it on, he was going to let it win.

“Okay,” he whispered, straightening his posture.

With the blink of an eye, you had turned it all off. A smile adorned your lips before simply inching closer to rest your cheek against his chest, reunited with the sound of his heartbeat that you were so used to falling asleep too.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him rest his cheek on the crown of your head, his limbs squeezing you just a little tighter, as if it was somehow going to prevent you from slipping away when the evening came to a close.

You had expected it to pick up its pace, beat like a hummingbird — but it was steady.

Maybe his heart was finally beating steady, after stuttering in his chest for months, lost as it tried to find back to its purpose. And now it had been reunited with it, instantly recognising the euphoria and quickly settling into its supposed rhythm.

Bittersweet — that was how it felt. You were allowing yourself to completely bask in the comfort of Tobio. You hadn’t felt such contentment and rest since the split, and it felt nice to breathe calmly for once.

But he was still your ex, and it would come to an end eventually, again going your separate ways.

Those were sorrows for tomorrow.

You allowed yourself to dance with him, your tears quietly wetting the fabric of his jacket until the evening came to an end.

Looming in the shadow of the auctions success was a sight no one had expected to see.

She’s the cute face behind the whole event, having worked countless hours to pull it all together for it to turn out the way it did, and it’s safe to assume she is probably thrilled with the sum they were able to rake in for the sake of a good cause.

However, you’re probably reading her name and finding it awfully familiar — but you can’t seem to understand why; there’s no reason for you to know the name of some random employee at a big shot company. The name probably rings a bell because she is better known as the ex girlfriend of star player Kageyama Tobio, seemingly home in Japan for a visit. Was the reason for his unexpected return solely to attend the big evening of a special ex-someone?

During their time together, they rarely made headlines as they were notorious for keeping their relationship private. But once the handsome Ali Roma setter became available, people were quick to show their interest.

Though we were not lucky enough to be of attendance at the charity auction, we’ve gotten our hands on exclusive pictures from the night. Not only were they spotted together for the majority of the evening, these photos show they didn’t seem shy when sharing a rather intimate moment on the dance floor.

One can start to speculate if the corporate sweetheart has once again swooned the sought after Kageyama.

Fret not, because we got a rare statement from the woman of the hour, and she says : “I have nothing but respect and adoration for Kageyama, but-“

Tobio shut the magazine, unable to finish the article.

tags : @hiraethwa ﾉ @shouyuus (hope you dont mind i added you love)

an : dedicated to tobio nation <3 lets go with the angst, it is obvi what i love. idk if you guys picked it up, but to me it's sooooo clear where my writers block started to disappear lol comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[starryficsfinishwen]

spring thief — xiangli yao x f!rover

(listen to this song while you're reading)

Peach blossoms usually sprout small buds.

A tiny, fragile thing. In spring when the tree blooms, its petals are perched on its branches, enclosed like hands in prayer. Sometimes they stay there, sometimes they fall onto the ground. When they do, awaiting hands always catch them, careful not to break them open.

While others believe its fragility is its downfall, only a few know of its true essence; waiting for the season when its pretty petals would open, the sweet smell dancing in the air. Xiangli Yao is no stranger to such occurrences, being a genius not only in the automotive field, but also in the nature of things. Watching a particular thing, glancing at sleepy eyes under the shade.

Like the peach blossom buds, somehow, you were there, too—waiting.

In the afternoon haze, a golden hour shade over the Academy, Xiangli Yao notices your sleeping figure.

Buried in the heaps of scrolls and papers, your head rested on your arms as you tried to nap. Albeit your workspace is plastered by the window overlooking the ocean, the blooming peach blossom as your source of shade—a good place for productivity, you claimed, being in touch with nature and your workplace—a few rays of sunshine still caresses your cheeks.

In hindsight, you looked like you were working hard with your head down. But between the Principal Investigator and you, the esteemed Rover of Jinzhou, you both knew it was far from that—a lazy weekday afternoon away from the pressure.

“I don't think you're faring any better,” Xiangli Yao chuckles at your nth attempt to block out the sun with the heaps of paperwork, “Shouldn't you move to another place, maybe, away from this?”

Fluttering your eyes open slowly, you pouted as you watch him lean to your predicament. “No...I don't want Baizhi to examine me again.”

“So you resorted to doing my paperwork.”

“Mhm...”

“...to which you tried to sleep on it.”

“Sorry!” You scrambled to sit up, tired eyes fighting to close again, “I promise I didn't drool over them.”

But Xiangli Yao gently places his hand over your head, lightly lowering it down back to the desk. “Honestly I don't mind, even if you drooled over them. Go back and take a nap.”

Helplessly, you followed his instruction, allowing yourself to relax in his hold. By the time your head had completely nestled back in your arms, you watched Xiangli Yao mimic your actions in the opposite direction. Resting his head on his robotic one, he tilts his head to meet your eyes.

“...Huh?”

Purple eyes glint in amusement. “I figured I'd share Mortefi's rage with you.”

You burst into fits of giggles. “Really? I thought you hated being scolded by Mortefi.”

Reflecting your joy, his smile makes his eyes close. “There are far more important things other than this paperwork.”

Using his free hand, he boops your nose. “Your sleep, for example.”

A comforting conversation between good friends. That was what you were to each other; despite the science of the unknown being in the way, Xiangli Yao guides you through it all, while you were there to be his muse in finding answers.

“I can't recall my sleep being as important as your paperwork.”

“Didn't you say Doctor Baizhi is preparing to examine you again?”

“I do, but I really just want a small break for now,” a small whine escapes your lips, “It hasn't been a week since the Moon-chasing festival.”

“True,” He hums, “Oh, it wasn't enough for you?”

Shifting your position so your chin is rested on your propped arm, you shake your head. “Of course not. I had so much fun...”

Your mind fondly remembers the event—bright lights, the moon, loud laughter, and the warmth of a familiar hand. Trailing to meet the same purple eyes in your memory, ones that looked at you, mirroring you.

At some point, before you could even say anything else, there was an irregular knock behind you. Looking back, you watched the peach blossoms sway with the wind as they fall to the ground, the flurry of flowers turns into a storm. Bracing yourself from the impact, you quickly try to shield the both of you, but a warm hand stops you.

“Oh, it must be time.” Xiangli Yao speaks as if this occurrence was something natural.

Looking back at him, you said, “Are you sure this isn't a storm?”

“It's pretty normal, to me at least.” He shrugs, “If you think about it, was there anything normal in Solaris-3 at this point?”

He makes sense. Relaxing in his hold, you mutter, “But still, it's so new to me.”

“I've always seen it happen whenever it's almost summer.” Xiangli Yao stands up and approaches the window. The flurry of flowers is still there. “It means that it's coming.”

Opening the window, the fresh scent of the tree almost drowns you. A few small petals and buds enter through the opening, landing on your lap and hands. Watching the man in front of you catch a few flowers in his robotic hand, a fond look in his gaze.

“Have you ever heard of the story of how trees, even as old as this one, can still bloom despite the years?”

Gently taking the buds in your hand, you glanced at the man, “No, what was it about?”

“Jinzhou may be young, but the trees have long been around even before its birth. And they only knew of our ancestors' love, a love that resonated so long, that it echoes even until now.”

Some buds and petals litter your hand. There was a tiny one, resting not too far from your pinky finger, so you pick it up. “And...?”

“My mother tells me that the reason why the peach trees here still continue to bloom,” He sighs, before a smile graces his lips, “It's because of love.”

The buds in your lap, as if listening to Xiangli Yao's words, slowly bloom in your touch. In awe, you continue to touch the blossoming buds, the tacet mark in your hand slightly glowing, “My mother believes that the resonator who can make the flowers bloom is a 'spring thief'.”

All of the buds in your lap have fully bloomed. Yet, the tiniest one in your hand hasn't. You triy to touch it, in every angle, but still, it hasn't. You look up to see Xiangli Yao's tacet mark in his robotic arm glow. The words are clear to you.

“The harbinger of summer. But they should also be driven with the same motivation for it to happen.”

Purple eyes find yours when he turns on his back. Walking toward you, Xiangli Yao kneels in front of you, reaching out for the one in your hand.

“The 'Spring Thief' has to be in love, too.”

With your combined touch, the tiniest bud blooms, with the sweetest smell and being the prettiest among them all. And Xiangli Yao, like that night, looks at you—fondly, softly, and only you.

Have you ever looked at Xiangli Yao this way? Have you ever noticed how pretty he was, drenched in the golden hour glow, the flurry of blossoms dancing outside? The sun's rays mimic a tacet cord, haloing over his head, capturing his face like an angel. Perhaps he is an angel, having spent his mortal days walking on Earth. And his words, honey and true, have long been clear to you.

“I-” The words choke you, but still you can't look away.

“I'm not asking for your immediate answer, [Y/N].” He brightly muses, “In any case, I'm sure that summer is coming.”

Taking your hand in his, bringing it to his sweet lips, he whispers, “The 'Spring Thief' has come to bring summer once more.”

Peach Blossoms have the sweetest bloom this season.

I'm down bad for this man, I love him

COME HOME OKAY??? I LOVE YOU XIANGLI YAO

p.s. I had a dream of my potential crush so this scenery was the inspo

— starry

[hwaslayer]

home (khj) | one shot.

—summary: when your home no longer feels like home.

—pairing: kim hongjoong x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) established relationship au | fluff, smut, heavy angst

—word count: 24k

—content/warnings: *open-ended, sad ending* cussing/mature language, very platonic cuddling and biting btwn oc and bff lol, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, intoxication, house party scenes, club scenes, making out, protected/unprotected sex, hongjoong’s pull out game on 100, marking/hickeys, thumb sucking, slight choking, breast play, clit play, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, praising, car sex, *toxic relationship themes (hints of infidelity, gaslighting/manipulation, jealousy, anxiety, bad temper, multiple heartbreaks, crying, yelling/loud arguing, friends getting involved during fights) - please proceed with caution*

—on rotation: change - arin ray & kehlani ・burn - usher ・snooze (acoustic vers) - sza & justin bieber ・ i wish i hated you - ariana grande

Home.

When you think of the word home, plenty of things come to mind: your family, fun times in the backyard with the grill going, home-cooked meals, the smell of the fresh tree and peppermint during Christmas time;

Hongjoong.

It’s been a little over 2 years since Hongjoong has made a home in your heart and continues to— him being your other half and knowing you like the back of his hand. Things started off so beautifully, blossoming into the greatest love you’ve ever known. You remember the day you met him like it was yesterday, remembering every single detail down to the weather, where you were at, how you were feeling at that exact moment;

The excitement, the infatuation, the thrill, the chase.

As beautifully as those moments blossomed, there were other moments that came crashing down, too.

So when you think of the word home, plenty of other things come to mind: loud arguments and hurtful words, doors being slammed, glass hitting the wall, crying till the point your chest hurts;

Hongjoong.

—LATE JUNIOR YEAR IN COLLEGE

“Dude!” Wooyoung runs over to your circle of friends, pushing through the crowd that’s currently in Changbin’s living room. “Cops are outside, we gotta go!”

“What do you mean we gotta go, Woo? We took a fucking uber—”

“Shut it down! Now!” You hear the cops at Changbin’s door, urging for the party to be shut down immediately due to multiple complaints from neighbors for being too loud and disturbing the peace. Quite frankly, it was past 1am and Changbin still had his dj playing music. On top of that, people were outside constantly yelling during rounds of beer pong and being a mess, even down on the sidewalk.

You couldn’t say you were surprised.

However, you are surprised with how fast Wooyoung is booking it. You don’t even know where your other friends are at, or where he’s even going. 

“Jung Wooyoung, what the fuck! Where are we going?” You continue to run past him, barely able to catch up especially while drunk.

“This way!” He cuts through the backyard, down the alley and towards a random car you truly don’t recognize.

“Whose car is that?! Wooyoung!” You call for him, but he hops in anyway, dragging you along with him. Everything happens way too fast, you don’t even realize you’re smushed in the backseat of a mini SUV, sitting on someone’s lap. Everyone in the car is loud, the music is loud, the driver is no other than Jeong Yunho—

“Yunho?” You furrow your brows as you peek over the passenger’s seat, quickly glancing down at the unfamiliar individual sitting there. “When did you drive to the party?! Whose car is this?!” You look over to see another unfamiliar individual plopped in the left seat, with Wooyoung in the middle— your friend Ara on said unfamiliar’s lap.

“I told you at lunch that I was driving and asked if you two needed a ride. It’s my cousin’s.” He laughs. “He’s out of town and left the car with us. Told me I could use it if I wanted to. Just make sure no one fucking yacks or else I’m tossing you out. No question.”

“You did not!” You reply to the part where he claims he told you. He probably did, but you can’t remember for the life of you.

“Sure did. You were too busy arguing or whatever with Bin.” Hm, sounds about right, you think. Yunho looks at the rearview mirror to meet your eyes before shifting back to the road. “By the way, this is Mingi. That’s San. And dude you're sitting on is—.” 

“Hongjoong.” You look behind you and see Hongjoong giving you a small smile just as he says his name. His hands are awkwardly at his sides, rosy tint coloring the surface of his cheeks as he tries to keep still as much as possible.

“I’m.. so sorry about all of this.” You tell him as you hang onto the headrest in front of you, apologizing to Mingi when your fingers accidentally tug on a hair strand.

“All good.” Hongjoong chuckles, a little unsure of what to do with himself. He’s only met you about a couple of minutes ago, and you’re already on his lap. How sway?

“I saw Yunho while I was trying to find an easy way out and he called for me to follow him, so..” Wooyoung says, but your eyes quickly divert to one of your friends who had been gone the entire night.

“Ara, where have you even been all night?” You tap her arm. 

“Around.” She giggles, enjoying herself on San’s lap. They continue to talk amongst each other, and it’s clear where she’s been all night. Welp, as long as she’s happy, and as long as you all are out of trouble’s way.

“Shit, sorry.” Yunho says, abruptly braking. 

“Jesus fucking christ, Jeong Yunho.” You put your hand out to stop yourself from crashing into the headrest, another pair of arms suddenly wrapping around your waist to keep you steady. 

“Woah there. You good?” Hongjoong still has his arms wrapped around your waist, and you can’t help but shyly nod. You are too drunk for this.

“I wasn’t gonna make it! Sorry!” He points at the yellow light.

“You would’ve made it.” Mingi laughs.

“What would you know, you’re high as shit.” Yunho sighs. “Never being DD again with my cousin’s car. For real. I got somebody high in the front seat and 5 people in the back seat.” He looks around while he patiently waits for the light to turn. “Good thing it’s kinda dead out here.” Yunho quickly turns. “Anywhere we can hang out for a bit?”

“You can go to mine, my roommate is gone for the weekend.”

“You sure?” You nod.

“Yeah. Thanks for driving and letting us squish in here.” You give Yunho a small smile. “We can order some food when we get to my place.”

“Sick.” Yunho presses on the gas, driving at a safe speed down to your apartment. You learn that San, Mingi and Hongjoong go to the neighboring university, but they’ve known Yunho since middle school. For a minute, you forget you’re sitting on Hongjoong’s lap with how comfortable you’ve gotten, conversing with your friends as Yunho continues to drive to the apartment. And Hongjoong doesn’t mind either; hell, he’s forgotten about the entire situation, his hands resting on your thighs. If anything, he’s determined it could help in case Yunho decides to do a hard-brake again. You don’t seem to be uncomfortable and that’s all that matters.

So, all is well and Yunho brings everyone to the apartment in one piece. You immediately hop off of Hongjoong’s lap and quickly thank him for tonight before taking the lead with Wooyoung to your apartment door. Everyone else trails behind at their own speed, with Hongjoong digging his hands into his pockets while he observes you and Wooyoung loudly laughing at your door. You’ve got your arm linked with his as you both crack jokes and playfully bicker. At one point, Wooyoung bites your shoulder, causing you to yelp in pain and push him off. It’s an interesting relationship, he thinks. He’s never seen people be so close and comfortable, but he supposes it’s nice that you two are able to be that way.

“Get comfortable!” You say as everyone finally makes their way inside, kicking their shoes off to the side. “Water is in the fridge, along with other drinks. Feel free to grab anything.”

“Should we order some pizza and chicken?” Yunho is already scrolling through his phone. “That sounds bomb right now.”

“Yeah, that does. Order it and let us know how much we should chip in.” Wooyoung plops onto the floor, grabbing your remote off of the coffee table. “Dude, it’s still pretty early.”

“This is early to you?” 

“The night is very much still young, my dear.” He says, pinching your cheeks. You smack his hand away before yawning into your own hands, excusing yourself to the bathroom to change and get comfy while everyone gets situated around the living room. Wooyoung throws on a random scary movie for some source of entertainment, some source of background noise. You quickly wash up and change into a matching hoodie and sweats set, startling yourself when you damn near run into Hongjoong lingering in your hallway. “Oh shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “I don’t mean to seem like a creep, but I was just looking for your bathroom.. but.. I see you just came out of it, so..” He scratches at his temple and you giggle.

“I’m all done.” Hongjoong nods and brushes past, hurriedly making his way to the toilet to break the seal. Once he’s felt relief, he takes a minute to wash his hands and splash a bit of cold water to his face. He’s still feeling the alcohol, bits of the edible, too. But, he’s definitely not as crossed as earlier in the night. Just as he’s patting his face dry, he takes note of all your skincare laying around; that cute pink headband with a huge strawberry on it, various face sheet masks arranged neatly, random rings and other trinkets spread across the open space. Otherwise, both you and your roommate seem to be really organized and neat.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” He says when he catches you in your room. “For letting me borrow the bathroom.” You chuckle, Hongjoong’s eyes roaming around as he peeks in.

“You can come in, you know? My room isn’t entirely off limits.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” He gives you a small smile. “You do have a cozy room, though.”

“Thanks. I try.” You let out a tiny giggle, tossing your clothes into the hamper as he steps inside and slowly eyes the prints and photos organized beautifully along the off-white wall. 

“These are nice. Do you order them from somewhere in particular?”

“No. I just look online and buy whatever looks good.” You stand next to him.

“But.. these photos. Did you take them?” He points at the scenic photos you took of and around Hanauma Bay during a family trip to Oahu years ago.

“Yeah.” You tilt your head to the side. “Wow, I miss Oahu. I think it’s time to tell my family we need to do something and go back.” He chuckles.

“They’re beautiful.” You look at him and give him a tiny smile. “Everything about them. The angles. Crisp edges.” He says softly, mainly to himself, but it’s still loud enough for you to hear.

“Thanks. Are you into photography or something?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I try to take my own pictures, too. Just like holding onto memories that way.”

“I agree.” He smiles at you before glancing at the rest of your room. Everything about your room is also neat, organized and incredibly in sync— if that makes sense. Everything follows a certain theme, a certain color tone. Whites, creams, soft pastels. His eyes just gloss over the room in such a smooth way, he’s positive you love being in here.

“Do you spend a lot of time in your room?”

“How can you tell?”

“The way you decorated it. You put a lot of thought into it. It’s really nice. I meant it when I said it looked cozy.”

“You’re just throwing compliments left and right. What did I do to deserve it?” You laugh, and it Hongjoong finds his smile growing bigger.

“I’m just being honest.”

“Well, thank you, Hongjoong. I appreciate it.”

“Are you two hooking up or something? The food is here!” Yunho is heard at the end of the hallway, careful to not walk into something he doesn’t wanna walk into.

“Yunho, why the fuck would I hook up with someone with the door wide open?” You ask as you lead the way out of the room, Hongjoong following behind and shutting your room door close.

“I don’t know, you’re drunk.”

“I’m pretty sober now after everything that’s happened.” Wooyoung is at the coffee table, already spreading out the pizza boxes next to the bucket of chicken.

“So, you weren’t making out in there?” You smack Wooyoung upside the head before plopping down next to him. Hongjoong lets out a small laugh, taking a seat at the end of the coffee table while Mingi does the same on the opposite end. Ara and San are still flirting a storm on your couch, while Yunho takes a seat on Wooyoung’s free side.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I’m sure Hongjoong would be down, you were already pressed up on his lap earlier.” He whispers right into your ear.

“Oh my god. What’s wrong with you?” You pinch him on the thigh, making him yelp in response.

“I’m just saying you deserve all the fun, baby. Jesus. Just go for it next time.” He continues to tease. “Anyway, here. Let’s eat up.”

“What’s playing on the TV right now?” Yunho asks, already gobbling down a slice.

“Who fucking knows, but it’s kinda funny.” Wooyoung laughs at the screen. For the rest of the night, everyone is eating to their heart’s content and actually watching whatever movie happens to be playing on the TV. You stand for a moment to grab some water from the kitchen, unaware that Hongjoong had followed you over to grab another bottle of his own.

“Mind if I grab one, too?”

“Here.” You hand him the bottle, cocking a brow up when Hongjoong hasn’t stopped staring at you.

“Um.” He chuckles and points to your cheek. “May I? You.. there’s sauce.” You giggle.

“Oh shit, wow. That’s embarrassing.” He wets a paper towel before gently dabbing at your cheek, eyes focused on getting the sauce off of your skin. His face is merely inches away, hand gently holding your chin up towards the light. 

“There.” He says softly. Except, Hongjoong doesn’t release his grip from your chin right away, eyes now glazing over your features. You’re really, really pretty, and something about you is enticing to him; even if you two have barely known each other for the night, you are enticing and he is curious about you.

“Thank you, Hongjoong.” You say ever so sweetly and it confirms the thoughts swirling in his head— intoxicated or not.

“You’re welcome.” His thumb grazes over your cheek for one last quality control check before he steps back. “Wanna catch the rest of the movie?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Truth be told, Hongjoong isn’t even sure how the whole night unfolded this way. He wasn’t even planning on going out, but leave it to Mingi, San and Yunho to convince him until the very end. He had noticed you ever since the party, eyes glancing around the living room over the edge of his cup while he people-watched, took in his surroundings. What caught his eye the most was how bubbly and energetic you were around everyone, always being the life of the party and genuinely enjoying yourself. You’d loudly laugh and joke, smile from ear to ear while dancing around with a bag of chips in your hand. You didn’t have to do much to be that way, and Hongjoong could tell you were only being yourself. He liked that. He liked seeing you happy, he liked seeing you be you.

So colorful, vibrant.

But, truthfully, he was afraid to make a move. Mainly afraid, but he also knows what kinda wreck he’s been lately. Just lots of shit, lots of baggage— he’s not sure what he’s really ready for or if he’s ready for anything. The thoughts alone are enough to keep him still in his place, pushing certain desires and wants to the back of his mind to try and focus on fixing his shit first.

He can be selfish sometimes, though. It is beautifully dangerous for Hongjoong. Beautiful because it works, dangerous because it works.

So at the end of the night, after Hongjoong watches you giggle away to the stupid movie on the TV, after watching you happily gobble away at the pizza and chicken, after your hands grazed over his a few times; he is going to be selfish.

That would change the trajectory of everything for him, for you.

Ever since that night, Hongjoong and his friends would invite you and your friends to hang out at their apartments and vice versa— engaging in casual drinking over board games and more movies. Every hangout led to you and Hongjoong getting closer and closer, teetering into new territory quicker than you both imagined.

“Hey.” Hongjoong says, stepping out onto his balcony where he finds you getting some fresh air. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here?” He jokingly teases, making you roll your eyes even though you feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Ew, don’t ever.” He laughs, swinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Why are you smiling like that then?”

“Not because of you.” You tease.

“I don’t see anyone else out here.” He looks down at you. “Seriously, what’s up? You okay?”

“Just wanted to get some air.”

“Wanna go for a walk with me, or do you wanna stay here?”

“Can we stay here? I was looking up at the stars.” You look up. “They’re so bright tonight, Joong. I feel like I haven’t seen them like this in forever.”

“Hm.” He hums, eyes glued onto your side profile. You’re not even doing anything in particular, but this moment right here makes Hongjoong want to pull you close. 

Kiss you. 

Hold your hand.

“Are you looking?” You look at him with a brow cocked up and he laughs.

“Honestly, nah. I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m just..” He pauses, brushing the hair away from your face. “Let me take you out on a date.”

“You— wait, what?”

“Let me take you out on a date.” He chuckles, pressing his lips against the side of your head. “Please?” Hongjoong had been a bit more affectionate with you as time went on, and you welcomed it because whatever he was feeling, you surely were feeling too. Unspoken feelings and little acts of affection kept you going, and you thrived on it, if you were being honest. You loved the cute ‘lil pinches on your side, the ‘lil moments where he’d grab your hand and let it linger for awhile, the ‘lil moments you’d catch him staring at you from across the room, the ‘lil texts that showed you were on his mind in one way or another. It was the subtle chase, and you loved it.

“A date, hm?”

“I’m serious.” He clicks his teeth in defeat, making you giggle.

“Alright, yeah. Take me out on a date, Hongjoong.” He smiles.

“Yeah? It’ll be fun.”

“Where are you planning on taking me?”

“Why would I tell you that, pretty?” He boops the tip of your nose. “I promise. I got you.” 

And to that end, he did. He fulfilled his promise, and he did have you. He took you to a basketball game, one that you had been dying to catch for months, but never had the time to do so. He picked you up that morning and drove to the arena 45 minutes away from campus. It wasn’t like any other date you’ve been on, no. But, it was a date you enjoyed because you had fun and you were comfortable enough to be yourself around him already. You screamed together, you yelled at the refs together, you cheered on the team together. During the game, he’d hold your hand or throw an arm over your shoulder before giving you a quick peck on the cheek or temple. You don’t know what it is, but you trusted him. A lot. Quickly, too. 

After the game, he took you out for dinner at a casual restaurant nearby, asking you to order whatever you wanted and that he’d cover everything, as long as you were happy. The two of you talked about everything and anything about life, and you felt like Hongjoong understood you just as you did with him. You knew a bit about his family after all the kick-its and hangouts your friends had. You knew he had an older brother he looked up to and adored, you knew he loved his parents more than anything. You knew he loved his senior dog named Momo, and you knew he cherished his childhood home, his friends— near and far. He knew you also had a good relationship with your family, and he knew the little things about you that made you.. you. It was an equal situation of give and take; not one taking more or less than the other.

Sooner or later, more dates occurred, the affection and PDA progressed to the point that everyone automatically paired you two together. Wherever he was, they’d figured they’d find you there and vice versa. It wasn’t until the date at the baseball game a month later when he made things official with you. Hongjoong knew all the right things to do, all the right things to say. It almost felt unreal that you had him by your side— a stranger whose lap you sat on just to get away from the cops, a stranger you knew nothing about and had no intentions of getting close to.

That stranger became everything to you in such a short amount of time, but you didn’t want it any other way. It felt good being with Hongjoong, and it felt like pure bliss being with him. You were certain you had finally reached cloud nine, and you didn’t think you’d ever come down from it.

“Hello?” You pick up the phone just as you begin to walk to the parking lot after your last class; books tucked against your chest, bag strap slung on your shoulder.

“Hey baby, did you just get out of class?”

“Mhm. Finally! I’m so tired today.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. You don’t have anything else going on tonight, do you?”

“No, but I have homework to finish and I definitely have to study for our next test. What about you? How was school today?”

“Same old. Can’t complain. I just have some things to finish tonight, too.” You hear rustling in the background, followed by his door shutting.

“Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. I went to the gym really quickly.” He lets out a sigh. “I miss you.”

“Aw, I miss you, too. You’ll see me tomorrow, though.” 

“I know but.. it feels like a long time from now.” You step into your car and let out a breathy giggle. “Do you wanna just stay over tonight?” You pause, hearing the question come from him. You’ve hung out at Hongjoong’s apartment more times than you can count, but you’ve never stayed the night since Hongjoong was always so careful about being too quick or pressuring you into doing something you weren’t ready for. It’s not that you weren’t ready, and you definitely thought about it more recently. But, you were also shy because it felt like a huge step for you and Hongjoong’s relationship. Though, you knew he’d enjoy it just as much as you would. You just had to overcome all of your overthinking and get over your assumptions, you think.

“Joong, I have to study tonight.”

“Study at mine. I won’t bug you.” He laughs. “I have some homework I gotta get through, too.” Silence. “Baby, no pressure but I really just miss you.”

“Joongie.” You almost whine. You miss him, too. You really, really do. “Okay, yeah.”

“Really?” He says excitedly.

“Mhm.” You laugh. “I just need to go home, shower and pack a few things.”

“Mmkay. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

“See you soon, pretty girl.” You hang up the call, eyeing the phone before shaking your head and driving home. Not gonna lie, you were extra nervous. You were excited to finally spend the night with him, but you were nervous. You were nervous thinking about what the night would bring. What could it possibly bring? Were you two really gonna study and just go to sleep? Would Hongjoong expect things from you? Hongjoong would kiss you, slowly make out with you and touch you in certain places, but never expected more from it— again, mainly because he was afraid to unintentionally pressure you in any way.

Welp.

You quickly brush your thoughts away and hop in the shower before throwing on a lazy outfit consisting of an oversized sweater and biker shorts. You pack up some things, telling your roommate you’ll be back tomorrow. She teases you a few times about finally sleeping over, yelling from her room that she’ll be excited to hear details if you actually do come back the following day.

When Hongjoong comes, it’s about 15 minutes after you finish packing. He tells you he’s parked near the curb out front, slipping into your shoes and rushing out the front door to greet him. He’s in a hoodie and sweats, hood up on his head while he scrolls through his phone waiting for your arrival.

“Hi.” You happily say, hopping into the passenger’s seat after dropping your bags into the trunk.

“Hey.” He beams at you, leaning over for a kiss. “Ready?” You nod, buckling in your seatbelt. Hongjoong stops by the nearest McDonalds to grab some greasy fast food for you two to indulge in while you both study away.

The apartment is quiet tonight, with San being out and Mingi studying away in his room. The both of you make a beeline to his room, Hongjoong hauling your bags while you take charge of carrying the food in. You place the bag down on the desk, carefully setting the food onto the surface. You let out a squeal when you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in between his legs when he settles onto the edge of his bed.

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re staying tonight.” His hands are at your hips, gently squeezing before caressing your bare skin.

“I missed you, too.” You cup his cheeks and give him a kiss on the lips.

“Let’s eat first?” He chases after your lips for another quick kiss. “You’ll have energy to study.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You give him a tiny, toothless smile. You and Hongjoong talk about your day in more detail while eating, laughing and teasing each other before settling down for the rest of the evening. He offers you a shirt to change into so you can be more comfortable, and you take it; slipping into it with ease before plopping back onto his bed with your books in hand. You tuck one leg in, while the other is propped out, with Hongjoong laying on his stomach next to you. He plants random kisses along your leg from time to time, throwing an arm over to hold onto it while he continues to work through his homework.

Surprisingly, you do finish everything.

“Babe.” You call for him as you shut your books close about two hours later, Hongjoong now folding some clothes and putting them away in his closet.

“Mhm?”

“I’m done.” You smile, packing your things into your backpack.

“Nice. See, I told you I wouldn’t bug you.” You laugh, making grabby-hands at Hongjoong.

“Are you almost done, though?”

“I am. Just a few more, then we can cuddle for the rest of the night. Sound good?” You nod.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed.” You hop off and grab your toiletries, throwing on a random pair of Hongjoong’s extra sweats before waddling to the bathroom. You take your time brushing your teeth, washing your face and getting cozy for the night before heading back into Hongjoong’s room. He’s back on the edge of his bed, this time, sorting through Netflix to find something to watch. You carefully slip under his sheets, texting away with Ara and Wooyoung until Hongjoong shuts off his lights and slips in next to you.

The one thing you’ve learned from Hongjoong is that he always gives you his full attention. He never scrolls through his phone for long if you’re with him, doesn’t let other shit occupy his attention. It’s you, and it’s always about you.

So, you set your phone aside and let him pull you into his arms, fixing the pillows so you could comfortably lay on his chest while he lays back against the headboard.

“You okay, baby? Comfortable?” He asks softly. You nod and he gives you a sweet, feathery kiss on the top of your head before starting the movie. There’s silence that falls between you two when the movie begins, but it’s comfortable. It’s sweet, it’s comfortable, it’s peace. Hongjoong gently runs his hand up and down your arm, tracing faint shapes on the surface as a small, reassuring way of saying he loves taking care of you— loves keeping you safe, warm.

Eventually, the movie hits the halfway mark, and you’re kinda over it. You’re over it because all you wanna do is kiss Joong and lazily make out with him until you can’t anymore. You just want him, all of him, and you don’t really wanna wait for the next opportunity to come around when you can have him here, right now. In this bed.

“Babe.” You call for him softly as you rest your chin on his chest and look up at him.

“Hm?” He hums, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Pay attention to me.” You pout, making him shift his attention from the screen down to you.

“I am.” He laughs a bit, hand gently massaging at your scalp. “What can I do for you, baby girl?”

“Just want a kiss.”

“Mm. I’ll be more than happy to give you that.” He smiles. “C’mere.” He adjusts once more while you rise and bring yourself closer, lips locking onto his the moment you are close enough to do so. Even after you pull away, you repeatedly kiss him— Hongjoong squeezing your side in between kisses as a way to encourage you to keep going. 

And you do.

The kiss deepens and the movie is now a long-gone thought in the background; simply filling noise, filling space. He lets out a soft sigh when you tug back on his bottom lip and suck onto it, following up with another kiss to keep the intensity alive. Your tongues are fighting for dominance, giving Hongjoong leverage to lay you down onto the mattress while he hovers over your body.

His lips trail down your jaw, down to your neck. He gently nips and sucks at the surface, leaving marks along the way to show off who you truly belong to in this crazy, fucked up world. You are his, and his only.

“Wanna take care of you, baby. Can I?” He pauses as his hand slowly travels underneath your shirt and up your side, thumb caressing right under your bra line. You simply nod, feeling his hand travel to the back of your bra to unhook it in one quick move. You help by tugging your straps down and tossing the bra off to the side, Joong’s hand now coming up to cup your breast— letting out a shaking breath when he toys with your perked nipples. 

“Joong.” You whimper. He gives you a look before he pulls your shirt upward, tongue carefully swirling around a bud before repeating the same on the other. He watches as your back slightly arches in response, goosebumps etched on your chest, arms. He plants chaste kisses down your stomach, trailing down to your clothed core.

“Is it okay if I keep going?” He whispers, fingers toying with the band of your cute red panties.

“Please.” You respond, arousal overflowing in the pit of your gut. He hooks his finger onto your panties and slides them off, biting onto his bottom lip when he finally has you like this under his hold. To be honest, you’ve never really had fulfilling sexual experiences in your previous relationship. The sex was good, but it wasn’t great, nor was it memorable. Your ex had a tendency to fuck for one purpose only, and that was to get himself off. He’d never go down on you, but he’d finger you as part of the foreplay. He’d keep it to missionary, never really down to explore other positions or find something that’ll spice up shit in the bedroom. But you were young, so you never really complained. You truthfully thought that was how sexual experiences worked— who were you to fight against that if you didn’t really have anything else to work off of or compare it to?

The other thing about Hongjoong is that he is keen on showing you differently, satisfying and pleasing you to the end. Because it’s you, and it’s always about you.

His thumb presses against your clit, earning a small gasp from you. He smiles at how sensitive you are, damn near begging him to touch you in all the right places, fuck you ‘till you can’t walk. And he will, but he wants to explore you first; really explore you and take you in.

“You’re so beautiful.” His eyes are glued onto you, slipping in two digits inside of you. “So wet.” He curls his fingers just right, pumping them at a perfect rhythm. 

“Oh— Joongie.” You let out, toes curling at the end of the bed, hands gripping the sheets when he lowers himself back down in between your thighs; pressing sweet kisses to the inner parts before coming down to your pussy. Everything feels so slow, yet so intimate and special, even when Hongjoong finally latches on and laps away at your clit while his digits continue to pump into you. You’re moaning a little louder now, but he only hopes the TV is loud enough to muffle the noises because he truly could care less about shushing you and trying to keep it down for his roommates.

Oops.

So as to say that you’ve never had memorable sexual experiences with your past, you’ve also never really felt what a real, raw orgasm felt like. And when the first one hits you, it feels like a certain high where all you hear are fireworks exploding. You tremble in his grip and Joong soothes you by kissing you all over, praising you for doing so well, whispering that he’d continue to take care of you. He digs for a condom in his nightstand, sheets draped over his body when he sits back to roll the condom down on his length. Your eyes can’t help fix on it, his tip red and angry— ready to feel you, make you feel good but equally ruin you in the best possible ways.

He eases himself in, lips grazing over yours as he locks eyes with you. The both of you let out soft moans while adjusting to the feeling, Joong keeping a slow pace until you’re more comfortable. 

“Keep going.” You manage to whisper against him, enjoying the feeling of being full of him. He picks up his pace, rocking his hips at a steadier pace that has him muttering curse words to himself, your nails digging into his back while your moans get a little louder.

“Baby.” He chuckles. “Fuck— you sound so sexy, but—” He pants a bit, furrowing his brows as he forces himself to hold on a little bit longer. “Mingi.”

“I can’t.” You whine. “Feels too good.” He lets out another shaky breath hearing that slip from your lips, his ego climbing just a bit knowing he can make you tremble under his grip, knowing he has you wrapped around his finger like this.

“So good.” He responds. “So good for me, princess. You’re so, so good.” He praises you, nibbling on your earlobe when his hips snap at a messier, rougher pace. He sucks on your neck more, darkening the reddish blobs littering across the column. You start to move your hips to match his movements, earning a deep groan from Hongjoong. “Ohhhfuck, Y/N. I won’t last.” He dips his thumb down to your clit, wanting to push you over the edge so, so badly. “Can you come for me again, baby? Hm?”

“Hongjoong.” You repeatedly moan his name like a mantra, feeling the coil in your stomach threatening to snap any second now. 

“Mhm, that’s it. Come all over me. Give it to me.” He coaxes you. Suddenly, your orgasm washes over and makes your bones feel like jelly; everything sounds and feels like white noise even when Hongjoong snaps his hips roughly, chasing his high until he spills into the condom.

“Holy fuck.” You manage to let out as you try to regulate your breathing— eyes glossy, lips swollen, hair a mess, hickeys covering your neck. It’s a beautiful fucking sight to Hongjoong, and god, does he love seeing you underneath him like this.

“God, you’re perfect.” He kisses you on the lips, carefully removing himself from inside of you. He steps out of the bed and tosses the condom into the trash, slipping back into his sweats to grab the wipes from the bathroom. “You’re so pretty.” He laughs, watching as you lie there, letting him clean you up and take care of you.

“This is pretty to you?”

“Incredibly.” He smiles. “Gonna grab us some water.” He turns to the TV. “Fuck the movie, I guess?” You laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll be right back.” He kisses your forehead before running out to grab some water.

“I see you two were having some fun.” Mingi says with a smirk on his face, exiting the bathroom after a quick shower. Hongjoong truthfully didn’t even hear his ass walk into the bathroom and step into the shower.

“Oops. My bad, dude. We’ll keep it down next time.” Hongjoong chuckles, returning to the room with some water. “Here, drink some. You should probably go pee, too.”

“Joong, I’m so lazy.” You respond after chugging some water.

“Go.” He hands you the sweats you were wearing earlier. You roll your eyes and shove them on, earning a quick ass-slap from Hongjoong for the attitude.

You definitely slept well that night.

And the next morning felt even more perfect, being that you didn’t wake up to a Hongjoong next to you; but, you did wake up to a Hongjoong bringing you a plate of breakfast in bed. He cutely sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair out of your face while the other hand held a plate with rice, eggs and spam drizzled in sriracha. You certainly didn’t wanna leave him that day, especially when he pressed repeated kisses against your lips in the car— reassuring you he’d be back to pick you up after classes.

“How was it?” Wooyoung asks as you two sit in the café before classes, raising a brow at the hickeys you’re trying to cover with your sweater [but clearly failing]. “Or should I even ask?” He scratches at his neck as a way to point out your hickeys.

“Uh.” You fiddle with the straw on your drink, biting onto your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling too big.

“Ew.” He laughs. “You’re so bad at hiding them, dude. Did he try to eat you or something?”

“You asked!” You tuck your hoodie up. “I didn’t think he’d give me that many hickeys.”

“Mm.” Wooyoung hums. “At least it was good.” He snorts, making you toss a crumpled napkin at his face.

“He made me breakfast in bed, too.”

“You spoiled little brat.” He laughs, this time earning a kick under the table. “Ow, you’re so fiesty today!” He complains.

“Woo, listen to me.” You pout.

“What? The fuck can you possibly be sad about when you got the best fuck of your life and breakfast in bed?”

“Sometimes, I feel like he’s too good to be true.” You give him a look.

“What, why?”

“He’s just so good to me.”

“And you deserve to be loved that way, Y/N. Don’t ever question that shit.” Wooyoung points at you in a scolding manner. “I can tell he genuinely cares about you and really, really likes you. Let the guy love you.”

“Really?” He smiles and nods.

“Yeah, really. It’s the cutest shit. You two are cute.” He pats himself on the back. “Say thank you Wooyoung for throwing us in the backseat of Yunho’s car.”

“Fuck no, you wish.” You joke. Though, you really are grateful for that specific moment. You are grateful to Wooyoung and his irrational, loud, spontaneous ass. You are grateful that Yunho just happened to be there, right at that very second, with the people he was with. Because it brought you to Hongjoong, the one person that has become your homie, lover and friend all in one.

So yeah, maybe Wooyoung is right. After your shitty exes and unfulfilling relationships, maybe you do deserve this. 

All of this.

—SUMMER

“Y/N, my favorite!” Hongjoong’s dad says happily as he stands at the front door, watching you step out of the car.

“Hi to you too.” Hongjoong jokes with his dad, making him push Hongjoong out of the way in order to pull you into a big hug. “Mom, your husband doesn’t know how to show love to his youngest son!” Hongjoong yells into the house.

“Hi!” You hug him back before stepping into the house, kicking off your shoes and setting your duffle bag down. His mom comes to greet you, followed by his older brother and his dog, Momo.

“You look so cute today.” His mom says, bringing you to the dining table. “Come eat, I just finished cooking. I made sure to get you some fried fish since I know it’s your favorite.” You sit and look up at her with appreciation before letting out a small ‘thank you.’

When Hongjoong first told you that his family really wanted to meet you, you were scared. You were scared, and you were nervous. All you wanted to do was make a good impression, enough for them to like you and support your relationship with their son. 

But it ended up being so much more than that, and you were super happy with the outcome.

You had built such a strong bond with his family over time, just as he did with yours. You constantly wanted to join Hongjoong when he visited home. His parents always asked about you, always wanted to know when the next time you’d drop by. Sometimes, his parents would drive down just to hang out and see you both. Hongjoong had taken you to a huge family gathering or two, his parents proudly showing you off to their family members.

It went the same way with your own parents, but your parents weren’t as adventurous as Hongjoong’s. They loved taking weekend trips to nearby places, while your family loved staying home and being in their comfort zone with the occasional family trips here and there. Your family wasn’t as big as his, and your family loved being lowkey. It wasn’t a problem, but you ended up hanging out with Hongjoong and his family more just because they were closer to the universities and had more plans in store. Plus, you bonded with his father and his older brother over basketball. It was always a good time.

“What time are you guys heading to the party tonight?” His dad sits on the opposite side, already digging into the fried fish that laid flat in the center of the table.

“I don’t know, probably 9 or something.” Hongjoong picks at the fish, dropping pieces into your bowl of rice.

“Whose house is it at?”

“Joshua’s.” His dad nods.

“Y/N, you’re finally gonna meet his childhood friends.” You nod.

“I know, I can’t wait.” You giggle.

“They’re all obnoxious freeloaders.” Hongjoong’s mom laughs while she washes the pans in the sink, telling his father to be nice.

“So what hotel are we staying at over the weekend?” The main reason you two came down for the weekend was because it was a childhood friend’s birthday, and because his parents had plans to do a weekend staycation at a hotel nearly 1.5 hours away. They invited you two to come along, especially since his brother was tagging along, too.

“It’s a smaller one, but it has suites. Ours has a full blown kitchen, living area and two rooms. But we have to sneak Momo in.”

“What do you mean we have to sneak Momo in?” Hongjoong chuckles. “You didn’t check if it was a pet-friendly hotel?”

“I think it is, but I’m not sure. It’s too late to ask anyway. He won’t make a peep.” The both of you turn to Momo sleeping in his crate.

“Yeah, he’s an old man.”

“You and your brother need to sleep out on the pull-out couch so Y/N has the room to herself.”

“Babe, I’m gonna slip into your room.” You playfully nudge him in the midst of eating, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sure the couch will be just as great, Joongie.”

“Don’t be like that.” He pouts.

“Give her some space, my goodness.” You laugh at his mom’s response, excited to spend the weekend with them nonetheless. 

The night comes rather quickly, especially after you’ve walked Momo with Joong and tagged along to buy some groceries for the weekend staycation. You’ve dressed yourself up in a cute little mini skirt and a top, while Hongjoong is sporting a white Stussy shirt, black jeans and a backwards cap. The house isn’t too far from his own; the town that his family lives in not being incredibly huge. He pulls up to a block lined with big, two-story homes [similarly to his], parking in a spot around the round-about. The house at the corner is flooding with people— either hanging out outside or in the house, and the music is muffled behind the walls of the house.

“Ready, baby?” You give him a nod and he quickly leans over to kiss you on the lips. The two of you walk hand in hand towards the house, Hongjoong already greeting people the moment you’ve stepped onto the property. 

You’re a bit relieved when you see San, Mingi and Yunho hanging around in the house, instantly greeting them while Hongjoong continues to say his hellos. It’s not long before you’re returning back to his side because Hongjoong is proudly introducing you to everyone as his girlfriend, his lady, his girl; arm either swung around your shoulder or your waist. Even though these are people he mainly grew up with, you didn’t feel entirely left out with how down-to-earth and outgoing everyone was.

“Let me get you something to drink.” Hongjoong kisses your temple before tapping your hips and leaving you to Yunho, San and Mingi. 

“Dude, I’m glad you came tonight.” Yunho swings an arm around you. “Where’s Woo at?”

“He went home, too! He’s barely been around his apartment cause he’s been spending time with family.”

“He does hate being around school.” You laugh.

“He does.” 

“Did you get to meet everyone? I think mostly everyone’s here.” Mingi looks around, sipping on his drink. Hongjoong comes back around with a red cup full of a sweet, fruity cocktail in his hand. He hands you the cup and presses another chaste kiss to your lips before hugging you from behind.

“I think so.” Right at this moment, more roars are coming towards the backyard door where a few heads walk in. Loud greetings and hugs are being thrown towards the group that just arrived, Hongjoong, Yunho, San and Mingi happily greeting the guy that walks in first.

“My guy!” Hongjoong daps him up and everything, even with his one arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Kim fucking Hongjoong, it’s about time! I haven’t seen you in so long, dude!” The guy looks down at you with a big smile, giving you a curt nod. “Who’s the pretty lady? Is this Y/N?”

“Sure is.” Hongjoong smiles. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Jisung.” He properly introduces you.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” He smiles, his semi-long permed black hair cascading down the sides of his face. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Truthfully, you’ve probably only heard Jisung’s name tossed around a few times, but Joong has never really talked about him like that. It does make your heart soar that he’s proudly talking about you and beaming about your relationship.

A girl comes up behind Jisung and loudly greets Yunho, San and Mingi. Her eyes simply glaze over you and Hongjoong, but she manages to mutter a small ‘hey’ before pulling Jisung to the drinks. It’s not until someone calls out her name that you realize it’s Hongjoong’s Tara; his ex, Tara. You don’t miss how Hongjoong’s smile fades a bit, and how his body becomes rather stiff. But, he manages to play it off well— returning his attention to you as if the vibe switch never happened. He had always been honest about his relationship with her, telling you that they had always been close before they started dating. But unfortunately, all of that has gone to waste with how awful their break up was. He doesn’t give you details on the breakup— how, why or when it happened. You just know that they’re awkward, and that they’re back to being strangers.

It is what it is, he says. Maybe it just works out better that way. 

You never pressed on it, never asked him more. Because whatever Hongjoong was willing to share was okay with you, and as long as he was okay, you were okay. Same thing goes for you and your ex— Hongjoong never pressed you to share what you weren’t comfortable with; but he damn sure made up for everything you had gone through in your previous relationship. He made sure to kiss every scar, every wound, every thought, that made you believe you weren’t enough or that you lacked in certain areas.

Because to him, you truly didn’t. You were one of a kind.

Throughout the night, you and Hongjoong continue to stick to each other, sharing affectionate moments in between silly dances. Tara surprisingly didn’t make her presence known much, and that eased the anxiety you felt when she first walked in. It’s not like you expected him to be bothered purely by the way he talked about their history, but at the same time, you didn’t know what to expect and you didn’t know her. You just wanted to have a good time with him and the people he enjoyed being around. You loved being with him more than anything, and you loved the attention he always gave you. You didn’t have to ask because Hongjoong always gave, always made sure to take care of you before anyone else. 

Towards the end, you find yourself clinging close to Yunho and participating in a round of beer pong with him while Hongjoong steps outside to take a few hits of a blunt Jisung made. 

“I’m glad you brought Y/N along. I’ve been dying to meet her since your ass talks about her so much.” Joong laughs just as he exhales.

“That’s my girl.” 

“You look hella happy with her.”

“I am. We just.. fit. She really does make me happy.” Joong takes another hit.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” Jisung chuckles. “So does that mean..?” Joong looks at him because he already knows what he’s talking about.

“We’re not really talking.”

“That’s not what I was gonna ask, though.” Jisung cocks a brow up. “I’m assuming you’re over her and everything since Y/N is around now.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” Is all Hongjoong says. “Been over with.”

“Okay.” Jisung responds. He leaves it at that because even though a tiny part of him feels like Hongjoong isn’t actually over it, who is he to argue against it? Only Hongjoong knows what’s going on in that head of his. Jisung can only hope you don’t get hurt by anything in the end because you seem like a genuinely nice and sweet girl.

Once Hongjoong and Jisung are done smoking, he comes to find you finishing up the round with Yunho. He celebrates your victory, showering you in kisses before whispering in your ear that he wanted to get the fuck up out of there. You take the keys from him and step into the driver’s seat, sober enough compared to your boyfriend since Yunho took all the beer during beer pong. The both of you recount different moments of the party, with you telling Hongjoong that you really enjoyed meeting his group of friends from home.

“Baby.” He breaks the silence, hand on your thigh and giving it a good squeeze.

“Yes?” You quickly look over at him before looking back out to the road.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, the weed still in his system; eyes still glossy and red. “I liked seeing you have fun tonight.”

“Joong.” You giggle.

“No, seriously. You’re perfect.” He squeezes at your thigh again, fingers slowly trailing up to your inner thighs and sending goosebumps to ripple through your body.

“No one’s perfect.”

“You are. To me.” Your breath quietly hitches when you feel his fingers tease at the hem of your skirt. “My pretty girl.” His hand finally dips underneath, teasing at your panties.

“You do remember we’re going back to your parents’ house, right?”

“Mhm.” He teases at the edge of the material; so close, yet so far. Threatening to be right where you want him. “Just sleep in my room.”

“I’m not doing that with your parents around, Hongjoong.” He chuckles.

“They won’t care. Fuck the guest room. You can just be quiet for me, right pretty?” He bites onto his bottom lip.

“Hongjoong.” You whine, almost unable to finish the drive home with the way your boyfriend is being.

“Pull into the park’s lot.” He points ahead. “Need you right now.”

“In the lot?!”

“You won’t sleep in my room, so..” You let out a breath, still obeying to pull into the lot. You needed him just as bad, the ache becoming unbearable in between your legs. You park under the tree for more ‘privacy’ [if you can even it call it that], the rest of the lot completely empty and dark. As soon as you put the gear in park, Hongjoong is tugging onto your shirt, begging for you to be on his lap. “Ride me.” He adjusts the seat enough so that you have room to climb over, already unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans. When you land on his lap, he tugs your panties to the side and guides you onto his tip, letting out a loud moan when you finally sink down on his length. “Fuuuuck.”

“Joong, someone might see us.”

“No one will see us.” He digs his fingers deeper into your hips, encouraging you to work your hips faster.

“We don’t even have a condom!”

“I’ll pull out.” He laughs. “Fuck baby, I promise. We’re okay.” He kisses you sweetly on the lips. “Just need you right now. Ride me like the good girl you are, hm?” You let out a breathy moan hearing his raspy voice, working your hips back and forth at a steady pace.

“Feels so good.” You whine.

“Always know how to ride me so well.” He dips his thumb into your mouth, watching you wrap your pretty lips around it. “And you’re all mine. Right, princess?”

“I’m yours.” You mewl with a nod just as he slips his thumb out of your mouth, hand now coming to your neck with enough pressure. He pulls you in for a sloppy, wet kiss, shared moans released in between kisses. The friction against your clit is adding onto the pleasure you feel, your orgasm building quick. It only takes a few more rolls against him before you feel yourself unraveling, moans echoing within the car— you’d really be surprised if nobody questioned it. The car moving, sounds probably heard through the windows.

You can’t believe him right now.

“Hongjoong, I’m gonna—” You don’t even finish your sentence before your squeezing the life out of him, walls pulsing around his length. It’s enough to bring Hongjoong’s orgasm out of him, the panic lowkey mixing with the pleasure he’s feeling.

“Fuck— up, baby. Up.” He taps your hips and you move upwards, Joong releasing right into his hand as soon as he’s out. You’re still twitching from the sensitivity while also trying to regulate your breathing, exhaustion hitting you quick in the tight space. “Shit.” Hongjoong says, looking around to grab a napkin.

“You’re so messy.” You joke, making him laugh.

“Where else could I have done it, hm? Enlighten me.” You point to your mouth to tease him. He responds by clicking his teeth, wiping away in between your legs before tending to himself. “Don’t say shit like that, Y/N. We might never make it back to my parents’ place.” You laugh and hop off, albeit struggling to make it back to the driver’s seat.

“We’re leaving.” You fix yourself a bit more before buckling your seatbelt in and starting up the car. Joong continues to adjust himself back into his jeans before settling, letting out a hefty sigh when he’s comfortable.

“Offer still stands, love.”

“What offer?”

“To sleep in my room.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why?” He pouts and whines. “I’m telling you right now, my parents won’t care.”

“I do!”

“Baby, how are you gonna do me like that?”

“You’ll see me down the hall in the morning.” You smile at him before driving up the hill, the park literally being down the street from the house. When you arrive and park at the curb in front of the house, you and Joong quietly step inside and slip out of your shoes. He playfully grabs you by the waist, pulling you into more kisses in the dark to prevent you from heading up the stairs. You silently scold him and laugh against his lips, afraid his parents will wake up and see you two making out in the entryway. Just as you’re about to head down to the guest room, Joong tugs you by the wrist and pulls you into his room for another round of kisses. 

“Just stay with me.” He whispers before locking his lips with yours again.

“I’m down the hall.” He gently sucks onto your bottom lip, slightly pushing himself up against you. “Kim Hongjoong. Stop it.” You tap him on the chest and he sighs in defeat.

“I hate sleeping without you.”

“It’s for one weekend.” You blush at Hongjoong’s neediness. Quite frankly, you don’t wanna be without him either, and it’s taking everything in you to leave him. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Fine.” He meets your eyes while caressing your chin. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You smile at him before leaving him in his room to head down to the guest room. The guest room has a half bathroom that you use to get ready for the night. You quickly wash up and throw on a comfy pajama set before slipping into the bed and plugging your phone into the charger. Hongjoong sends you a few more texts and pouty faces before you send one final text saying you were setting the phone down for the night.

The next morning, you’re woken up by his parents making breakfast downstairs, followed by Hongjoong’s dad yelling for him and his brother to wake up and take Momo out. Hongjoong’s actually the first to be up, responding that he’ll take Momo out after he checks on his other baby first. You giggle to yourself under the covers until you feel another body jump onto the sheets and hug you tightly. He showers you with tickles and kisses before getting up to get ready for the rest of the weekend ahead.

Which, was amazing. Something you’ll always remember, something you’ll always keep close to your heart.

The hotel was small, but beautiful, and it sat in the middle of a cute town. You successfully snuck Momo into the suite with Hongjoong and his brother; the boys tasked with hauling his things and his crate, while you tucked him nicely into a blanket and carried him into the room once the coast was clear. The entire weekend was spent walking around town or playing around at the pool while Hongjoong’s parents always cooked the best meals. Hongjoong would occasionally sneak into your room just to pepper you with kisses and lay with you for a bit before you would whine about his parents finding him in there. It was a weekend full of laughter, bonding, candid photos, kisses and sweet praises from Hongjoong— telling you he felt so lucky to have you.

You, perfect for him.

You, everything to him.

And that continued even after the weekend. You and Hongjoong both found summer jobs just to keep yourselves busy, but he never failed to make you feel loved despite the slight change in schedules. He’d drop by as soon as you both were off, bringing you a bouquet of ‘just cause’ flowers before kissing you and holding you close. He’d bring you to work on days he didn’t have work and patiently wait for you to get off. He’d cook you a good meal, cuddle you and make love to you in the best [yet nastiest] ways. He’d surprise you with little things here and there— shoes, little trinkets, shirts— things he knew you’d like and that reminded him of you, only you. The hangouts with your friends and his friends continued, the bond between all of you only growing more tight.

You could say that summer was amazing. It was the happiest you’ve felt in such a long time. Or.. ever, if you’re being honest.

You were so happy that the moments when Hongjoong would go home for a night to hang out with his childhood friends or help his parents, you’d be sad. You knew you couldn’t always be with him, but those moments when you weren’t, easily made you feel incomplete. You were used to having him around, stuck at your hip while he kissed your temple and kept you close.

You felt empty, like your other half was missing.

“You’re leaving me.” You pout as you wait for your smoothie to be done, Hongjoong resting his chin on top of your head while he lazily holds you from behind. Tonight was one of those nights where you’d be sleeping without Hongjoong, a night where you wouldn’t get any cuddles, kisses.

A night without his warmth.

“Only for the night, love. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He presses his lips to your head. Once your smoothie is done, you take it to the car with your hand in his, head hung low because you don’t wanna be without Hongjoong for a night. You’ve gotten so used to being with him that one night feels way too long.

When he finally gets you back to the apartment, he kisses you sweetly; hands cupping your cheeks before he presses a kiss to your forehead. He tells you how much he’s gonna miss his pretty girl for the night, but he’ll be back before you know it. You smile, hugging him tightly before waving him off and watching his car drive off towards the direction of home.

Though you already missed him, you happily skip to your room and eat your favorite breakfast bagel with your smoothie; reminiscing about how summer has been so, so good to you.

How Hongjoong has been so, so good to you.

—SENIOR YEAR IN COLLEGE

“Hi!” You giggle as you hop into Hongjoong’s car, leaning in to kiss him. But, he moves away, furrowing his brows at you. He’s angry, and you’re not exactly sure why. “Um, okay. What’s wrong?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for close to 15 minutes and you weren’t even answering my texts or calls.”

“Babe, I’m sorry. Class ran late and then I ran into Ara and Wooyoung on the way over.” He pulls out of the lot rather quickly, speeding off to his apartment from campus. “Slow down.”

“You couldn’t take that one second to text me or let me know?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it.” He doesn’t respond.

“Yeah, you didn’t.”

“It’s 15 minutes, Joong.”

“I’m just saying you could’ve told me, Y/N. I picked you up, it’s the least you could do.”

“The least I could do? If you didn’t wanna pick me up, you could’ve just said so—”

“That’s not the point.”

“Hongjoong, I didn’t do this on purpose. It just slipped my mind.” Your bottom lip starts to tremble. “Why are you so angry with me? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Exactly.” Is all he says, leaning into his hand propped near the window as the other steers the wheel. You feel the tears building up quickly because not only was this unintentional, but Hongjoong is making you feel incredibly guilty for no reason. 

“I said I was sorry. Why are you being like that?”

“I’m not being like anything, Y/N.”

“You’re being mean.”

“Am I?” He quickly turns to you with a glare before looking back out at the road. “I do hella shit for you, the least you could do is fucking let me know you’re gonna be late instead of letting me look dumb.” You flinch at his words, a mixture of both anger and sadness running through your body.

“I don’t mean to be such a chore for you.”

“Wow, there you go putting words into my mouth again. No one even said that.” You cross your arms and quietly slump in your seat, subtly wiping away at the tears streaming down your cheeks. You don’t even continue the conversation, leaving the air heavy and thick for the remaining 10 minute drive home to his apartment.

Once you get there, you simply kick off your shoes and sadly greet San and Mingi before walking into Hongjoong’s room. You change into comfier clothes, and slip into bed; studying for next week’s test and taking notes on your iPad while Joong talks to the boys outside in the living room. They start up a game of FIFA that has them screaming in the living room for an hour or so before they decide they’re gonna head out for a bit. Usually, Hongjoong skips in and begs you to come because he doesn’t wanna go anywhere without you. He loves having fun with you, seeing you smile and being able to kiss you in between.

But tonight, he rushes into the room without saying a word, and grabs a jacket before heading back out. The door to his room shuts close and you can’t help but feel your heart break. All of this over being 15 minutes late, and you feel terrible about yourself.

Why were you doing everything wrong?

“Woo.” You cry into the phone.

“What’s wrong?” You continue to cry quietly. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Joong was just hella mad at me. For the dumbest reason.”

“What happened?”

“Dude, he was so mad at me for taking too long. Said I should’ve just texted him and let him know instead of making him look dumb for 15 minutes.”

“I’m sorry, what? That’s what you’re arguing about?” He clicks his teeth. “Y/N, please stop crying. Where is he right now?”

“I don’t know, he left with San and Mingi.”

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“He didn’t say anything else to you?”

“No. He was angry. Sped the fuck off to the apartment and everything.”

“I get where he’s coming from but it’s really not that big of a deal. It’s not like you always do this to him.”

“Why do I feel so bad and guilty about everything? I always feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You’re not. He’s just not thinking.” You sniff and wipe away at your face, glancing at the time. You didn’t think Hongjoong would be back any time soon, so you continue to talk to Wooyoung on the phone while going through your notes. It’s about 2 hours in before Wooyoung says he’s gonna call it a night since he needs to wake up early and head home for the weekend. You let him go and get yourself ready for bed— fully expecting Hongjoong to probably sleep outside or create a gap between you two.

You wake up close to midnight when you hear San barge into the room with repeated apologies, hair a mess.

“Y/N, I am so sorry to wake you, but I need help.” You look up at him and sit up, rubbing at your eyes. Suddenly, the sound of someone falling into the floor and crashing into the dining room table echoes in the living room and San panics. “They’re both fucking drunk.” San says, stumbling back into the living room to find Mingi laid out on the dining room chairs, while Hongjoong is on the floor. You sigh and let San guide Mingi to his room, while you tend to your boyfriend.

“Joong, get up.”

“Baby. I’m sooo drunk.”

“Yeah, I can see that. You need to get up, though.” You try to pull him up by the arm. Luckily, he cooperates, though he stumbles a bit while you guide him to the bathroom. “Can we get you ready for bed?”

“Only if you come with me.” He hiccups. You shake your head and sigh.

“Yeah.” You sit him on the toilet. “Sit. I need to grab you some clothes.”

“I’m gonna fall over and die.” He laughs.

“You’re not.” San comes out of the hallway, letting out a huge sigh.

“Mingi’s in bed.”

“Can you watch him? I need to grab him some clothes.” San sits with him while you grab him a change of clothes. You hear them fumbling in the bathroom before Hongjoong lets out another laugh.

“Dude, keep still. Jesus Christ. You’re so lucky Y/N’s taking care of you. I would’ve left your ass there to fend for yourself.” He scolds him just as you walk back into the bathroom.

“Thanks, Sannie.” He gives you a tiny, toothless smile and nods.

“I’m sorry about this.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Just go and get some rest.” 

“I’m gonna sleep on Mingi’s floor in case he yacks on himself.” He rolls his eyes, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“My pretty baby.” He continues to tug you closer, making grabby hands and being all needy.

“Stop, Joong. Get your shirt off.”

“Why are you mad at me?” He whines as you switch out his shirt.

“Cause you were mad at me for something stupid.” 

“You were taking so long. I just wanted to be with you, but Wooyoung was taking up your time. W-Wouldn’t you feel the same way?” He slurs.

“Ara, too.” You look at him. “You don’t need to get mad at me for things like that, Hongjoong.” You can’t believe you’re having this talk with him while he’s intoxicated. But for whatever reason, you feel like he’ll understand you better this way. He’ll be less mean, less temperamental.

It shouldn’t be that way, though.

“Sorry.” He mumbles as you help him switch into his pajama bottoms. You don’t respond as you quickly wipe down his face with a wet face towel, handing him his toothbrush. “Baby, m’sorry. What more do you want?” He’s only accepting defeat because what else can he do being this vulnerable right now?

“Okay.” You give him what he wants. “Brush your teeth so you can get to bed.” Hongjoong brushes his teeth, grabbing the tiny cup of mouthwash you hand him before guiding him to the bed. He plops down onto his stomach, arm lazily hanging off the edge while you tuck him in. He falls asleep rather quickly, already deep in sleep when you place a water bottle on the nightstand and a trash can near the bed.

You sleep easily throughout the night after that, with the occasional Hongjoong tossing and turning in bed, sitting up to drink water before he’s back to holding you and keeping you close. You feel his lips press against the back of your head and neck a few times, but you don’t budge. Because you’re still upset, yet you’ve pushed it to the back of your mind to take care of him. 

Oh, Hongjoong.

You wish you weren’t so easy to fold when it came to him, your relationship. Hongjoong does so, so well bringing you up; but you’re learning over time and as your relationship goes on, he does so, so well bringing you down, too.

The following morning comes, and Mingi is yacking his brains out in the bathroom. You shrug Hongjoong’s arm off of you before you stretch and slip out of it, Joong way too out of it to even care. By the time you make it outside, Mingi is standing at the bathroom doorway, holding onto his stomach. You ask him if he’s okay and he winces, telling you he’s unsure if he’s got more left in him. You gently push him back to his room to rest before you’re cleaning the bathroom and washing up for the day. You cook a good meal for the boys, arranging a plate for your boyfriend. By the time that you’ve set the food out and cleaned up, Hongjoong is awake, but also struggling to move much.

“God, I’m so fucking hungover.” He mumbles and groans, barely able to look you in the eye.

“Eat.” You set the breakfast on his table.

“You made breakfast?”

“Yeah, cause both you and Mingi sound terrible right now.”

“Baby.” He sits up to drink water before pulling you in between his legs. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine.” You try to push off, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“Hey. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“It’s fine, Joong.”

“You don’t seem like you’re fine.”

“It’s fine. I’ll text you from now on if I’m gonna be late. I just don’t need you getting mad at me for that.” He hums against your chest and continues to hold you without saying much. So, you stand and wrap your arms around him, letting out a sigh in hopes that all the pent-up frustration would leave, too.

“You’re so good to me.”

“I hope so.” You look down at him, swallowing the lump in your throat. You truly hope you are good to him. At least, you hope he genuinely believes so because it’s so easy to feel like you aren’t, like you aren’t doing enough, especially when Joong gets like that.

Though over time, you believe he meant it, for the most part. Hongjoong is better, but that doesn’t mean the arguments have settled completely. The moments they do spring up, he’s back to his ways of keeping silent and brushing you off, or leaving you behind. He comes back late, slipping into bed before pulling you close and whispering his apologies into your ear.

It’s a never-ending cycle, a circle, but you take it because Joong is what you’ve known, Joong is your other half. You take it because Joong is your home, and that maybe, this was just a silly little phase. Something you two will eventually grow out of.

A little bump in the road, a hill to overcome. As with any relationship.

A weekend full of fun activities eventually makes way, one that universities in your town and neighboring cities always look forward to. It’s the one weekend where all campuses get together for a full day of music, food and friendly competition before partying the night away at a local venue. This year the event was going to be held in the next city over, about an hour drive down. You, Hongjoong and your friends had packed up all your things and drove separately— you with Joong, Wooyoung with Yunho and Ara, San with Mingi.

As soon as you all arrive at the hotel, you unpack and grab dinner before heading to bed for the festivities the next day that started bright and early. You knew you were gonna have tons of fun this weekend, but you didn’t expect it to be the same weekend that you’d be tested; that your relationship would be riding its downhill course yet again.

Your group, along with other familiar faces, stayed during the majority of the day’s events. You and Wooyoung ran into a lot of people you knew growing up, catching up while standing in line for snacks and food, or in between the games happening out on the field. So did Joong.

And he was his usual self, happily introducing you to people you hadn’t met before and vice versa. He kept you to his hip whenever he could, peppering you with kisses, dancing around and having fun like the Hongjoong you first fell in love with. A lot of it felt like old times, like there wasn’t a care in the world. It had just been you and him, through rose-tinted glasses.

When it’s time for the afterparty, you and your friends do a shit ton of pre-gaming before heading out to the venue across the street. The coordinators and the huge security team keep a single file line organized right outside of the doors until opening, allowing the venue to be flooded with people right at 8pm on the dot. You hang onto Joong, afraid you’ll lose him in the sea of people, with your friends around you until you find a good spot on the dance floor. No one wastes any time once you settle on a spot— you working your hips on Hongjoong while he holds you close, while San and Ara are also indulging in each other and Wooyoung is pulling random girls to dance. At some point, Yunho and Mingi run over to grab some drinks for everyone to sip on, the DJ’s setlist continuing to hit all the right spots.

“Baby.” Hongjoong says, arm around your waist while he leans in by your ear. “I’m gonna go find Jisung. He said he just got here.”

“Okay. Tell him I said hi.” He pulls away to look at you and smiles, brushing your hair back.

“I will. Be back? Be good?” He chuckles while you nod, planting a sweet kiss to your lips.

For awhile, Hongjoong is gone long enough that you’re not sure if he ever found Jisung. You start exploring around the dance floor, greeting people you know again before heading off to the spacious hallway that leads to the bathrooms and water fountains. Lots of people are standing around and talking, which makes it a bit harder for you to find him. You eventually do though, and you almost wished you hadn’t at that exact moment, at that exact time.

The exact moment when Tara pulls him in for a hug, keeping her arms around his waist while he looks down at her with a fond smile. He laughs loudly while she continues to talk to him, the grip around his waist clearly not loosening any time soon. He throws an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in for another hug; keeping her there for a bit before she finally pulls back and parts from him. 

You head towards his direction, his eyes instantly landing on you when you get closer. He gives you the same fond smile, before pulling you in and hugging you close. You swear you could still smell her perfume on his clothes and it gives you the ick.

“I didn’t know Tara was here, too.” You say, even though you should’ve expected it with all the schools invited. You should’ve known she was bound to be here, especially with Jisung being around.

“Yeah, and?”

“Nothing, nevermind.”

“No, I know you. What are you catching an attitude about? Because I said hi?” He furrows his brows at you and pulls away.

“It’s not even that—” You’re not even sure how to explain yourself, because how do you tell him she makes you uncomfortable without getting accused of being jealous? You know Hongjoong would instantly get upset, thinking you don’t trust him enough to be around his ex. That’s not the case at all. It’s just something about her that makes you feel.. off, and you can’t exactly put your finger on it. It’s probably the way they’re so up and down sometimes, you can’t tell if Hongjoong wants to keep her in his life or not. It makes you wonder how “awful” their breakup truly was.

But yeah, right now, you are kinda mad about how she hugged him and kept him close. He let that happen, too. 

“Just because she’s here, you wanna ruin a good night? Be for real, Y/N. All you fucking do is trip over stupid shit.” He says, alcohol surely not helping in this case.

“I’m trippin’ over stupid shit?”

“Yeah, you are! It’s so fucking unnecessary when you act like that. I was just catching up with Jisung and Tara happened to come by. I don’t know why you assume so many things right away. Nobody is putting those thoughts in your head, you do that to yourself.” Hongjoong harshly lets go of you before walking off and leaving you in the hallway. Yunho is just leaving the bathroom, catching you standing there with a sadness in your eyes that surely doesn’t fit the environment you guys are in right now. 

“Yo, you okay?” He throws an arm around you and brings you close, having to talk right in your ear because of the music blasting. You look up at him and shake your head, tears pricking your eyes while you sadly stand there with your arms tucked closely to your chest. “Woah, hey. What’s going on?”

“Tara.” Yunho lets out a small sigh as he frowns. He understands the anxiety that builds when she’s around. He knows their full story, and quite frankly, he’s iffy about the whole Tara thing, too. You clearly don’t know, but Yunho can tell your gut is telling you otherwise— that your instincts are making you defensive, making you overthink. He knows how serious their relationship was, but he also knew how much of a rollercoaster it was. How bad the breakup was, how weird they’ve been even post-break up. Hongjoong is a good guy, and he likes to think that he’d be smart enough [and grown enough] to move on from all that mess. “He’s fucking mad at me because I made a big deal out of it. I’m sorry I don’t want her around him.” 

“I’m sorry, that’s totally valid. He’s drunk and he’s being a dick. He’ll realize how stupid he’s being. Let him.” Yunho smiles and gives you a playful pinch on the cheek. “No crying allowed. Let’s go back to the dance floor, okay?”

“Bruh! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Wooyoung grabs your wrist when he finally spots you and Yunho. “Don’t you hear the song they’re playing?! It’s our song!” You laugh, letting Yunho and Wooyoung guide you back to the dance floor. Once Yunho and Wooyoung have successfully brought you back to the dance floor, you’re able to brush off your feelings and forget the stupid drama for a bit. Wooyoung dances closely with you [like he always has], playfully singing around and laughing while simultaneously watching the crowd go crazy around you. Being around Wooyoung feels nice because you’re reminded of the good ol’ times. You’re reminded of the times you used to be so, so carefree and so full of life. You’re reminded of the times you didn’t have to worry about a single thing or feel so fucking anxious and frustrated. You’re reminded of the times when you and Wooyoung used to have tons of fun without a single weight on your shoulders.

Well, scratch that. You still do. It’s just a little different now.

During the remaining time you’re at the party, Hongjoong doesn’t return to you even once. And you know he’s hanging out with Jisung. Probably other childhood friends. Definitely Tara. And your suspicions are confirmed when you excuse yourself from dancing with your bestfriend and a few others to grab water, finding Hongjoong laughing and in good spirits with Jisung, Tara and another friend. There’s a look in his eyes when he looks down at her, and it makes your stomach twist.

Of course.

You’re not really sure why that’s the last straw, it’s not like he was doing anything out in the open with her. He would never do anything, you think. Even if you haven’t seen him throughout the night, he would never. But, it’s definitely the fact that he chose to spend his time with them [her] knowing how you felt.

And that shit is fucked up. You’re hurt.

You make contact with him and roll your eyes, shaking your head right before you take a big swig of water and head out the doors. Before you know it, you’re outside, pushing through the random groups lingering to get fresh air. Luckily, the hotel is a short walk across the street. But, you’re not even sure if you should call Wooyoung and take your things into his shared room with Ara and Yunho because you truly don’t want to be around Hongjoong if he was gonna be like that.

“Fuck.” Hongjoong mumbles to himself. Jisung follows his eyes, watching as you storm out of the venue alone.

“Uh, is she good?” Tara can’t help but look over either, heart sinking when she realizes Hongjoong is about to run after you. Because yeah, she has history with him, and she knows deep down that part of Hongjoong still has a grip on it. Just like she does.

“I’ll catch up with you later, alright?” Is all Hongjoong says before bidding them farewell to chase after you.

“Of course.”

“Tara.” Jisung gently scolds her through his tone. “I know that shit has always been complicated, but I need you to let him be.”

“Okay, Jisung. I’m not even saying anything. It’s just annoying how we can’t even be friends.”

“It’s never just that with you two and you know it.” She looks at Jisung and remains quiet, not having a rebuttal.

She knows, she knows.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong pauses in his steps and searches for your familiar figure. More people have piled outside, making it a bit harder for him to navigate through the crowds. Once he leaves the entrance and finds himself on the street, he sees you nearing the crosswalk.

“Baby, baby.” You hear Hongjoong behind you, footsteps getting louder as he picks up his pace to catch up with you. “Baby, wait. I’m sorry.” He repeats when he grabs your wrist, but you’re quick to snatch it out of his grip.

“Hongjoong, go back to the party. Looks like you were having a fucking blast anyway.”

“No, I don’t want to.” He attempts to grab you again but you’ve moved out of his reach.

“And I don’t want you here.” You sharply look at him. “Just go back with your friends. I’m sure Tara’s looking for you, too.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I wanna be with you.” 

“If you actually wanted to spend time with me, then you would’ve done that a long time ago.” You feel the tears threatening to spill from your bottom lid as you continue to walk across the street to the hotel. You keep your distance from Hongjoong, genuinely wanting to be alone and away from him for a moment— but he doesn’t understand and he won’t. Because he’s selfish, and the moment he realizes you’re slipping from his grip, he panics. 

Saying and throwing everything your way just to get you calm, to not have you be mad. 

“I didn’t mean to get upset at you, it’s just frustrating—”

“I really don’t wanna do this right now, okay? I left alone for a reason.”

“Can you just listen to me for a second?”

“I don’t want to!” You push away from him once again, picking up your pace. “Hongjoong, just go back to your friends. For the love of god, I don’t wanna be around you right now. You fucking knew how I felt about the entire thing yet you still spent time with her and your friends. And you got mad at me for voicing those feelings! God forbid I feel that way about her.” You snap. “I don’t wanna do this anymore. I’m so fucking tired of fighting with you, all we do is—” He comes around and tries to stop you in your tracks, hands on your arms as he tries to pull you close.

“No, baby. You don’t mean that. I’m trying here! What do you want me to do?!” His voice slightly raises.

“You’re trying?! Funny cause you had hella shit to say to me at the party. Don’t try and flip the switch now.”

“I didn’t mean it, fuck!” He groans, attempting to stop you from walking any further again. His tone is loud enough to catch the attention of a couple walking past, eyes fixed on the scene until Hongjoong lowers his voice. “I just got frustrated and I’m sorry, okay? Please don��t leave. Let me make this up to you.”

“You don’t even know what the hell you’re sorry for!” You continue to raise your voice before storming up into the lobby, straight to the elevators.

“Yes I do!”  He rushes into the elevator with you, and you tuck yourself into the corner. But of course, in a very typical Hongjoong manner, he cages you in, hands resting on the rails while his face barely ghosts yours. “I fucked up, and I didn’t mean to discredit your feelings. I want you to know that I don’t care about Tara. That shit is all in the past. It gets frustrating because I would never do anything to lose you, Y/N. I just need you to trust me. Why don’t you trust me?”

“Joong, I don’t get why you can’t just cut her off. She’s your ex for a reason. I don’t understand it. I just don’t feel comfortable with it, and I’m sorry—”

“I know, baby. If you want me to cut her off, I will. I wanna make up for this and prove it to you.” You let out a breath. “No one else matters to me.” Silence. You aren’t really sure what to say. What can you say? Was it wrong for you to ask him to cut her off?

If not, why do you feel guilty about it? Why do you feel so fucking wrong for doing that? For making it a ‘big deal,’ for voicing your uncomfortability?

“You didn’t have to come after me and miss the party.” You don’t really know what else to say. You’re tired and you’re over it, so you do what you do best in these scenarios: try to physically push him away from you and keep him at bay.

“Stop pushing me away. Baby, please.” He shakes his head and almost whines, cupping your face. “I don’t care about the party. I don’t care about any of them. Why can’t you trust me?” And it’s that stupid fucking look Hongjoong gives you that makes you melt, makes you weak in the knees. He looks at you in a way that reassures you, in a way that tells you how special you are; a way that says you’re mine and only mine.

And it gets you every single time. 

You let out a shaky breath when his thumb caresses the surface, lips a few inches away from yours.

“Don’t push me away. I’m sorry, I’ll make this better. You can trust me.” He repeats. You don’t respond besides a simple nod, giving him leverage to press a chaste kiss to your lips as the elevator doors open. 

Hongjoong is home to you, which is why you trust him to make it better, to keep you safe.

That night, Hongjoong takes you into the room and shows you his way of making up for it, of taking care of you, of showing you all that matters is you. You slip into the shower, eventually letting Joong join and take you inside. He carefully calculates every move, every kiss, every touch; making sure to whisper and mark your skin with his repeated apologies. And it doesn’t stop there, no. You get yourself ready for bed, throwing on one of Joong’s shirts before slipping under the covers. He shuts off the lights when he’s finished, getting in next to you. Innocent cuddles and kisses eventually turn into Joong taking you from behind; pounding into you while he pulls your hair and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

No one else matters to me.

You’re perfect.

Made for me.

My good girl.

And you take it all, letting the love consume you all over again. Because for a while after this, things felt beautiful again. You felt like you were back in your honeymoon-cloud nine phase with Hongjoong— sharing laughs and jokes, holding each other close while kissing each other every chance you get. He’d make love to you like the last day on Earth was tomorrow, souls intertwining and never wanting to be apart from you.

Things were good, until they weren’t.

There comes a day when you realize he hasn’t actually cut Tara off, and your anxiety spikes again. There comes a day when all those shitty feelings return, and it makes you question if there was any meaning behind everything Hongjoong said, did.

You sat on Hongjoong’s bed, reading through a chapter of a book for class. He’s out in the hallway grabbing his clothes from the dryer when his phone dings a few times, your eyes shooting to the screen sitting on the nightstand. You used to think it was kinda nice that Hongjoong always set his text previews to show up no matter what. Maybe it was a weird way of showing you that he didn’t have anything to hide, maybe it was a way of showing you that you didn’t need to question anything.

Now, you’re not so sure how to feel about it.

tara: hey. is it okay if i swing by and hang out with you guys?

tara: my aunt passed, and i just want to be away from home.

You do feel a bit bad for her. Losing a loved one is never easy, and she is good friends with San and Mingi, too. But, where is Jisung? Where are her other friends? Surely she has other friends she can rely on, right? You can’t help but fix on the funny feeling and the anxiety that bubbles in your gut seeing her name— anything to do with her. You’re not sure what it is, but Tara unsettles you, and you know it’s for a reason. Your instincts are telling you so.

“Who is it?” You flash his phone his way, a small frown on your lips.

“So much for cutting her off, Hongjoong.”

“I’m not even planning to respond to her.”

“Not my point.”

“I know you aren’t getting mad at me over some unanswered texts. I haven’t even talked to Tara since that night.” He glares at you. But if he hadn’t talked to her since that night, what makes her think it’s okay to ask for something like this?

“Why would you tell me you’d cut her off if you weren’t actually planning on doing so? And why do you sound so mad about it?” You’re tired of doing this, going in circles, having to explain your feelings over and over again.

“Oh my god.” He huffs. “We’re really at this again?”

“Because you don’t get it. It just feels weird.” 

“Mm, when I haven’t done anything.” He drops the basket onto the floor. “Since you wanna talk about ‘weird’ and bring this shit up again, what’s been going on with you and Wooyoung then?”

“Are you actually kidding me right now?” You scoff. “You’re not serious.”

“You know, I saw you that night of the party. The two of you dancing hella close. I’ve seen the way he is with you lately, too.”

“Wow.” You laugh pathetically because what is actually going on? Wooyoung had never been an issue, at least, Hongjoong has never vocalized it. Nor has Joong ever given you signs that he was becoming a problem. “You know we’re just close like that. It’s actually unbelievable that you’re comparing him to Tara right now.”

“Oh, bullshit! You expect me to believe that? That’s the shit that feels weird.” Hongjoong yells.

“Yes!” You match his tone. “Because we’ve been together for how long?! You know this. Why are you all of a sudden making this an issue? Wooyoung was never a problem—“

“To you, maybe.”

“And that’s my fault, how?! I can’t read your mind, Joong. You never told me you had issues about it.” You groan. “He’s just one of my best friends. I don’t know how else I’m supposed to prove that to you. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Then, what the hell was he doing being all up on you? Leaning into your ear like that. Holding you close. Too fucking close.”

“We’ve always been that way! This isn’t anything new, and you know there isn’t a meaning behind it!” You yell, but you’re quick to crawl back into your shell when Hongjoong tosses a dish into the sink harshly before walking away from the kitchen. 

“Right.” He starts walking towards his bedroom and you follow behind. “It’s crazy how you make a big deal out of Tara when I keep her at a distance. I don’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, I make sure there’s clear boundaries.”

“That’s not the same, and you know it. Her being around is uncomfortable enough.”

“How is it different?”

“You’re kidding, right?” You cross your arms. “She wants to get back with you so fucking badly, Joong! How can you not see that? She doesn’t care about me, and you apparently don’t either!”

“Oh, I don’t? I cut her off like you asked me to even though there really wasn’t anything going on between us. Shit was fucking crazy to me, but I did it anyway.”

“What exactly does ‘cutting her off’ mean to you? Because she continues to call you and text you, asking you to be there for her when she has so many other people she can turn to. Why does it always have to be you saving the day? You just let it happen, too! You clearly would see her and let her visit when she needs you. You two aren’t together anymore!”

“So, how is this different from Wooyoung? Because every time something happens, you run to him. You ask for him all the time, you call and text him when you need someone. You choose him all the time.”

“No, I don’t! He’s not my ex-boyfriend, this is just how we are. I’ve known him for so long, he would never disrespect you. Why on earth would you ever think of us in that way? This is different because you and your ex have history. She obviously still loves you, and wants to continue feeling close to you. As soon as you’re vulnerable, she wants to swoop in and show you that she’s always been there. You don’t get it!”

“Fine, I don’t!” But Hongjoong does, he’s just matching your energy and the way you fire back makes him want to fire back even more. He yells and he slams his hand against the wall, making you flinch. He’s heated just as much as you are— it’s all in the heat of the moment. “If I ever asked you to cut Wooyoung off, would you?”

“No. I don’t have a reason to. That’s unfair and you know it.” He scoffs as he throws on his jacket and grabs his keys.

“Okay, whatever. Fuck this then.” He says, just as San and Mingi walk into the apartment— pausing mid-conversation at the chaos going on.

“That’s it?” You pause. “Hongjoong.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say to you, Y/N. I gave you what you wanted.”

“And I am too, I’ve been trying to tell you that you shouldn’t worry about Wooyoung.”

“And yet it still feels like you’d choose him over me if it ever came down to it!” His hand hits the wall and it causes you to step back.

“Woah, hold on. Hongjoong—'' Mingi cuts in when he hears Hongjoong yelling at you, also slightly appalled at the topic behind the argument. 

“Why do I even have to choose?!” You begin to cry more, aggressively wiping at your tears. He gives you one last look before he’s heading towards his shoes. “Hongjoong.” You call for him. “Where are you going?” He slides into his shoes, still not sparing you a look. “Hongjoong!”

“For a drive.” Is all he says before he’s heading out and slamming the door in your face. Mingi sighs as he sets his things down and tries to race after Hongjoong, while San sits you down and throws an arm around you to console you.

“What happened?”

“He’s getting mad at me cause Tara texted him.” San sighs. “Started talking about Wooyoung.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry Y/N, let him cool down.” You don’t say anything because you’re sick of fighting and you’re sick of his friends, your friends, genuinely apologizing on his behalf. It should have never gotten this deep, and your friends shouldn’t have to be involved. Yet, here they are. “He’s being a hothead. I know how you feel, and you shouldn’t have to explain the situation with Wooyoung after all this time.”

“Sannie, I’m so tired.” You cry into your hands. You truly are tired. You feel exhausted from this rollercoaster you’ve been riding for months. You’re not sure if Hongjoong feels too comfortable, or if he’s just losing sight of who you are to him, what this relationship means to him. And that is an awful feeling. “I’m so done fighting with him.”

“I know.” He rubs your arm and gives you a gentle squeeze. “Hongjoong just needs to realize how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side. For real. You do everything for him and you’re always there for him. I know he’s appreciative but he just needs to do better.” He lets out a breath. “We’ll try to talk some sense into him. Why don’t you lie down and get some rest?” You shake your head.

“I’m gonna go home.”

“Want me to drive you?”

“I’m gonna call Woo.” He nods, letting you go to give you some space. “Thank you, Sannie.”

“Of course.” He gives you a small, half-hearted smile. He feels terrible. He truly wishes Hongjoong would stop being so mean sometimes. It’s true; he does have a temper but it’s unfair for him to unload that on you for every little thing, every little inconvenience. You had been nothing but good and patient. Understanding.

“Yo?��� Wooyoung picks up as you pack up your things.

“Woo, are you free right now? Can you come get me from Hongjoong’s?”

“Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll be there in 10.” And with that, you hang up the call and continue to pack your things. Hongjoong and Mingi haven’t returned, and you’re relieved you don’t have to go explaining yourself if he were to walk in at this moment. Wooyoung arrives sharply in 10 minutes, texting you to come outside. You bid San farewell and hug him tightly, telling him to let Hongjoong know you’ve gone home if he ever asks. He simply nods before watching you leave, releasing a deep sigh as he heads to his room.

The car ride is quiet simply because Wooyoung can tell you’re having a bad night. The thing with Wooyoung [which is why he’s your bestfriend] is that he knows when he just needs to hold space for you and let you be in your peace. He doesn’t ask any questions, he doesn’t hound you for attention. He just lets you be the entire ride home. It’s not until you start breaking down again that he finally feels ready to ask, especially because he hates seeing you this way.

“Y/N, what is it?” Wooyoung lets out a breath when he sees you breaking down in the passenger’s seat. “Come on, let’s get inside first. Okay?” He says, hand coming to rub your back. You don’t respond so Wooyoung takes it upon himself to step out first before coming to your aid on the passenger’s side. He crouches to your level and unbuckles the seatbelt, wiping your tears away before getting you to walk to the apartment. He heads to the kitchen to grab you some water while you change and get into bed.

Wooyoung hears you quietly sniffling and crying to yourself, and he knows he can’t just leave you here like this. So, he places the water down, slips into your bed and holds you, telling you that things will be okay. To anyone, this probably would’ve looked incredibly wrong, and Hongjoong probably would’ve beaten his ass if he knew. But he doesn’t care; because Wooyoung will always do anything for you, especially after all the times you’ve dropped everything to be there for him without asking for shit in return. He cherishes you as his bestfriend and he will always put you first—

That goes to say, Wooyoung would never disrespect Hongjoong. He knows better than that, and if Hongjoong had a problem with him, he’d gladly talk it out and reassure him. Well, he’d at least hope Hongjoong was grown enough to do that.

But if not, then he thinks that's his own damn problem and his own damn fault for assuming and putting shit into his own head. Wooyoung has known you for so long that things like this— platonically laying in bed, consoling and being there for each other— comes so naturally. It doesn’t mean he’s trying to make a move on you [god, no], everyone knows that.

Except Hongjoong, I guess. It’s funny how he tries to flip the script on you when he knows exactly what he’s doing.

It’s kinda stupid, Wooyoung thinks. He should really know better after dating you for over a year at this point. He should really know better, period.

Right now though, you need him and that’s what he’s here for. He continues to quietly shush you and ease you to sleep, phone constantly vibrating and going off on the table. It’s not until he hears your soft snores that he carefully moves to grab your phone and attempt to turn it off, eyes glancing over Hongjoong’s texts and missed call notifications.

hongjoong: where are you?

hongjoong: y/n

hongjoong: assuming you’re with wooyoung

hongjoong: wow really, y/n? after tonight, too? of course you’d run straight to wooyoung

hongjoong: fuck this, whatever

Wooyoung scoffs to himself a bit, the audacity of Hongjoong for being so fucking upset over nothing. Don’t get him wrong. Wooyoung loves seeing you happy. It’s all he wants. And he loved Hongjoong for you. He really did. He thought you two were perfect and actually made for each other.

But, over time, he’s starting to question his thoughts, if he still stands in the same place he did a year ago. Because all this crying, this back and forth, nights of having to come save you; he sees you slowly changing. The light in your eyes dimming. Life slowly being sucked out of you. You aren’t the same bright, fun, loud Y/N you used to be and Wooyoung hates it when he really thinks about it. As the cherry on top [which Wooyoung also hates to admit], everything is becoming way too unhealthy. It’s the way that Hongjoong’s temper gets the best of him, the way all of your friends get involved one way or another. The way this will probably blow over tomorrow, and you and Hongjoong will go about your day like nothing happened.

What’s gonna be left of this?

What’s gonna be left of you?

Wooyoung feels his own phone vibrate, and it’s a text from Yunho. Granted, he kinda saw this coming. But again, he hates that this is what your relationship has become.

yunho: is y/n with you? hongjoong’s wondering where she’s at

wooyoung: where the fuck else would she be?

wooyoung: she’s at home, sleeping

wooyoung: had to pick her up cause she called crying after their argument

yunho: they fought again? over what?

wooyoung: idk but reading his texts, it sounds like part of it was about me

yunho: wtf why? i dont get it?

wooyoung: you and me both

yunho: alright well ill let him know shes safe and asleep. text me if u need me

wooyoung: thanks

wooyoung: also, tell him he can ask me directly next time. i’m not hiding anything, nor is y/n. bold of him to assume shit

He lets out a hefty sigh before setting his phone aside and slipping deeper into your covers, turning onto his side to give you some space.

When the following morning comes, Wooyoung wakes up to your hand on his arm as you reach over to grab your phone. He groans a bit, tugging on the sheets while you sit up and read through Hongjoong’s texts from last night.

“Fucking idiot.” He hears you mutter. As much as he wants to sleep in a little more, he can’t help but worry about you. So, he turns over and sees your fingers pinching at your bottom lip while you continue to read the texts— obvious the tears are building up the more that you do.

“Y/N, what the hell did you guys fight about last night?”

“It was so stupid.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that before.” You look at him and drop your phone, head resting back against the headboard.

“It started because Tara texted him asking if she could swing by for some company since her aunt passed. I got mad at him for it because I swear to god, she’s trying so hard to get back with him and he just lets it happen. I know he’d continue to help her and be there for her even though she has other friends she can rely on. Why does it have to be Hongjoong every fucking time?” You groan, tears already streaming down your cheeks. “And then he started attacking me about you, a-and—” You cry. “It’s unfair. It’s not the same, I don’t know why he’s suddenly making an issue about us or whatever, but it’s not the same and I thought he knew that. He was making me choose, saying I’d probably choose you at the end of the day and that I—”

“What a piece of shit.” Wooyoung says before sitting up and pulling you into a hug. “Nah, I get it. You don’t have to explain the rest.”

“It’s so stupid. Why would he say that when he knows it’s not the same? Tara’s his ex-girlfriend, why doesn’t he see it the way I do?”

“Because he knows he’s wrong and he doesn’t wanna admit it, Y/N. He’s looking for other things to pick at and blame. Deflecting.”

“I’m so done with him getting mad at me like this. I asked him to cut her off for a reason.” You pull away from him and wipe the remaining tears from your face. “I asked him to cut her off because she clearly didn’t give a fuck about me or our relationship. That girl knows no boundaries. She makes me feel anxious and I fucking hate it.”

“And you were right to do so.” You sigh.

“I feel like I’m never winning with him anymore.” You say quietly, defeatedly. “It just never feels like enough.”

“Don’t say shit like that. You’re doing more than enough, he’s just being dumb.” He sighs. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe later. I just need a moment to myself, I guess.”

“Take your time with it. Talk to him when you’re ready. Don’t let him determine that for you.”

“I know. Thanks for last night.” He gives you a small smile.

“I got you, always. And for the record, I know you’d choose me in the end.”

“Shut up.” You chuckle as you wipe at the stragglers running down your cheeks before pushing him out of your bed.

“Ow.” He pouts and whines. “Why would you hurt me?”

“I need to shower.”

“You should.” You smack him upside the head when you finally stand from your bed and grab a set of new clothes. 

“Are you at least feeling better?”

“Kinda? Sleep did me well for sure.”

“It’s cause of me.”

“Wooyoung, I will—” He bites you on the shoulder with a loud laugh, causing you to yell and curse at him this early in the morning. Luckily, your roommate wasn’t home and was off at her internship. But goodness, does your bestfriend drives you nuts. Can’t live with him, can’t live without him.

Once Wooyoung leaves, you take a bit more time just to be in your own peace. You deep clean your room and the rest of the apartment, while playing some soft music in the background. Hongjoong’s call is what interrupts the music coming through your bluetooth speakers, sighing as you disconnect it and pick up the call. He asks if he can come over and talk, and you agree to let him swing by. You aren’t feeling 100% but you are feeling better enough to try and talk to him.

It doesn’t take more than 15 minutes before Hongjoong is walking through your door, kicking off his shoes and setting his wallet and keys off to the side of the dining table. He finds you sorting through some extra prints you’ve kept hidden in your desk drawer, your back turned to him even as he walks in and greets you.

“Hey.” Is all he says, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Hi.” You turn to him, setting the prints aside.

“Hanging up more?”

“I don’t know yet. I bought these awhile ago and they’ve been sitting in my drawer. I need to figure out how I wanna put them up.” He leans back on his hands and nods. Even throughout all the stupid shit you and Hongjoong have been fighting about, you still find him to be the most handsome, the most charming; it truly makes your heart flutter every time you see him. He’s in a plain white tee and sweats, hair freshly washed and still a bit damp. The tattoo on his arm is poking out from underneath his sleeve and it drives you insane how attractive your boyfriend is.

“Mm.” He hums. “Did you sleep well?”

“Slept well enough.” You look at him. “What about you?”

“I slept alright. Was worried about where you were at.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else but my place, Joong. You know that.”

“With Wooyoung?” You look at him and let out a sigh, crossing your arms as you feel the anger within you grow again.

“Look, if you came here to argue some more, I don’t—”

“I’m not here to argue. I asked a simple question, Y/N.”

“Yes, he was here. But I don’t see why that would be an issue compared to Tara asking to come over.” He licks his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. Just nods. 

“She just needs her friends.”

“So do I, but you don’t see me leaning on my ex for that kind of company.” 

“We were good friends before we even dated.”

“But you dated, and that’s the shit she’s holding onto. As with anybody.” You roll your eyes. “I guess you did come here to argue.” He shakes his head.

“No. Forget it, I’m sorry.” Is all he says.

“Sorry for what?” You hate that you always have to ask him this because lately, it’s been feeling like he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. Like he’s just apologizing to apologize and move past it. “You do understand where I’m coming from, right? Tara’s your ex-girlfriend and I asked you to cut her off for a reason. Wooyoung and I have been bestfriends for years, and we’ve never been anything more than that. We’re just used to being there for each other and having each other’s backs. It’s natural for us. It doesn’t always have to have a hidden meaning, Hongjoong. Don’t make me choose because it’s not the same thing. Why would you do that? Why would you get upset at me for assuming when you’re doing the same thing about my bestfriend?”

“I hear you. I truthfully don’t wanna fight about this anymore.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I cut her off, alright? Told her she couldn’t do that and expect me to be there for her anymore.” He lets out a heavy sigh as if it was a chore to do, as if he didn’t want to but had no choice.

“Hm.” You hum. It’s not that you don’t trust him, you just don’t trust her. But part of you has also begun to wonder if you could truly be comfortable with his responses— if you could sit back and relax, take it for what it is. It’s complicated. Too complicated for something that started off so simple and beautiful. So beautifully simple.

“Baby.” He calls you as he stands. “Can you come here, please? Look at me.”

“Hongjoong, I just don’t know what to say.” He holds you by the waist, hand on the small of your back while he kisses your forehead, temple.

“Trust me.” He slightly frowns. “I need you to trust me because I would never do anything to lose you, remember? Baby, nothing else matters.” 

“Then trust me. Wooyoung would never disrespect you like that and I thought you knew that.” He nods.

“Yeah, I know. I was just upset.” He kisses you on the lips. “I’ll do better.”

And since that moment, Hongjoong was better. Really better. The feelings you felt during the beginning of your relationship with Hongjoong felt like they’ve returned. Hongjoong was good, so, so good to you— it was easy to trust him again and feel safe. He worked on building a safer space for you after the back and forth about Tara, making you feel like he truly understood you and wanted this relationship to flourish like it used to. He cared about you, and he loved you.

Little did you know that this would all come crumbling down in the future. All of it.

The hope that this would eventually pass, that it was just a bump in the road, dwindled when Hongjoong had reverted to his old ways—

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

But it breaks you, constantly breaks you, because at this point, you’re convinced it’ll never change. 

Not anymore.

“Wooyoung’s graduation party is that weekend. He had to push it out so his family could travel over.” You say, washing your bowl in the sink before plopping back down on the couch with him.

“So you’re not gonna come with me to Jisung’s graduation?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Can’t you at least stop by then go to Wooyoung’s?”

“No, because I told his parents I’d help get everything together, Joong.” You furrow your brows because you already know he’s angry, even though this has absolutely nothing to do with him.

“Alright.” Is all he says, continue to scroll through his phone.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“I mean, I just wanted you to come along for a bit. I don’t understand why can’t do that, but I guess it’s cause of Wooyoung.” He looks at you again. “I should’ve expected that.”

“Hongjoong.” You call his name with a certain tone, one that says you don’t wanna revisit this so-called issue again.

“What, am I wrong?” He chuckles, but there’s an obvious drip of anger, of venom, in it. “Do you, Y/N.”

“Why are you being like that? I thought you would’ve understood by now.”

“Yeah, I have. It was always going to be Wooyoung anyway, so what the fuck is the point?” 

“Why are we back here again? Why do I have to keep explaining myself to you? It’s not that I don’t wanna go to Jisung’s, I just promised Wooyoung and his parents I’d be there.”

“I’m sure an hour or so wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh my god.” You run your hands through your hair and get up from the couch, heading into his room. “I know that’s not what you’re really trying to get at.”

“It’s true though, right? You’re just choosing Wooyoung like you always do. You’re right, maybe I should just stop because in the end it doesn’t matter. I always put you first, I do everything for you and I always take you into consideration. Everything is about you, and you never do the same—”

“I never do the same?!” You match his tone. The disbelief running through you is unbearable. You’re just not sure how Hongjoong has the audacity to say something like that when you’re always thinking about him and putting your own feelings aside to keep him happy.

But you would never hang that over his head like he does with you.

“You know that’s not true! I appreciate everything you do for me, but you don’t get to hang it over my head like that because I would never do that to you. I would never make you feel guilty about the things I do for you, or make you feel like you’re an obligation.”

“You make me feel that way all the time!” He yells. “You don’t even realize how much you do.”

“Oh, because of Tara? So sorry that was such a fucking tragedy for you!” He groans loudly before hitting the wall.

“For real, fuck this. Count me out of your graduation, too. I’m not doing this shit.”

“Hongjoong, what the fuck is your problem? My own graduation?”

“I don’t wanna do this anymore, Y/N! What the fuck is the point!” He repeats. The words cut through you like a sharp knife because damn, you weren’t expecting that out of this.

“Okay, you know what, Joong. I’m not gonna keep arguing about this with you. Do whatever the hell you want, call me selfish, whatever. I made a promise to my bestfriend and his family and I’m not going back on my word.” You pack up your things and head out the door, not taking one look at him.

“Yeah, whatever. Done with this bullshit.” He slams his room door, causing the walls to shake.

You cried when you got home that evening, but you weren’t crying because of the shit he said, the things he pulled, no. You were crying because you were exhausted and you felt like you had nothing left in you anymore. You didn’t have the energy to keep fighting back, you didn’t have the energy to explain yourself. You shouldn’t have to, and you don’t want to.

Was it wrong to turn down Jisung’s graduation for your bestfriend?

When you said you had no energy, you truly meant it, and Hongjoong clearly did, too. The both of you hadn’t texted or called, let alone seen each other in those two weeks. You weren’t really sure what Hongjoong was up to, but you couldn’t think about much while wrapping up senior year and getting ready for graduation around the corner. Maybe the break was needed, maybe you two really needed the space.

You honestly would’ve thought this was the end of you two. 

He manages to prove you and everyone wrong again when he shows up to your graduation, with a big bouquet in hand. Wooyoung nudges you when he catches him across the street, walking over with San, Mingi, Jisung and a few other of their guy friends [who are probably here for Yunho]. He’s dressed in a dark grey short-sleeve dress shirt that’s loosely tucked into his black slacks with black boots. Your parents catch him on their way over to the field to get to their seats, pulling him into a tight hug before pointing over at you, Wooyoung, Ara and Yunho. Your parents [or his] never really knew the extent of your fights, which is why everything seems so fine and dandy in their eyes. Rose-tinted glasses, glitter and gold.

“Congrats!” San yells, hugging all of you before Mingi and the rest make their way around the group.

“You’re here.” You look at him with a slight fondness in your eyes because even though the past weeks have been a mess, Hongjoong still makes you weak. He gives you a tiny smile before pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I missed you. I’m sorry.” He mumbles against your temple before giving you a kiss. “Congrats, my pretty girl.” He tilts your chin up to press a kiss against your lips. 

“Thank you, Joong.” He gives you another chaste kiss to the temple before they bid their farewells and rush to the field, the commencement ceremony scheduled to start in a few minutes. 

It was a hot day, but nonetheless, a happy day. You felt happy finally getting through college and graduation with your bestfriends alongside of you. Your parents and Hongjoong stand near the stage to snap photos of you as you walk across and grab your diploma, the crowd roaring in celebration. After the ceremony, you, your friends, their families and loved ones all take hours to take photos together before agreeing to eat at a nearby restaurant together for a small, but intimate way to close the day. You would have never known that things had gone awry with you and Hongjoong with the way he lovingly held you, kissed you, kept you close. Though deep down, it was still hurtful to know that this wouldn’t last. That you’d have to accept the fact that this was only temporary.

Hongjoong’s graduation followed the next weekend, and you ended up heading to Jisung’s for a bit before helping with Wooyoung’s party. Wooyoung didn’t really like the idea, and you had apologized for going back on your promise of sticking with him throughout the entire party. But it happened anyway, even if Hongjoong dropped you off to head to Jisung’s party without you.

As long as you were okay, as long as you had stopped crying and feeling so shitty, Wooyoung was okay. Even though he really couldn’t stand what this had become.

But if Wooyoung could save your world from crumbling just a little bit longer, he’ll do that. 

Fuck the rest.

—CURRENT

“My birthday baby.” Hongjoong squeezes at your hips before biting onto his bottom lip, eyes ogling your dress and how it hugs you in all the right places, fits perfectly over your curves.

“Hi.” You smile up at him, hands lazily hanging around his neck.

“You’re so beautiful, love.” He says softly, kissing the tip of your nose before moving down to your lips. Jaw. Neck. You giggle in his grip, gently pushing him back by the chest. “I love you.”

“Thank you. I love you, too.” You smile lovingly at him.

“Ready to go? I think everyone’s waiting for the birthday girl to arrive.” You laugh and nod, letting him lead the way to his car.

You and Hongjoong had a good talk about your relationship and where things stood, being able to communicate properly about your needs, wants, giving each other space and letting the other be their own person. There was a tiny conversation about his current status with Tara, and he vaguely told you that they were back to being friends but he swore up and down that it was just.. that. He told you honestly that he wasn’t sure why he had to cut her off when there wasn’t anything going on between them, and that he felt like he didn’t need to. That you needed to trust him and he’d have no problem reassuring you.

So, that was it. And it worked well. It was a bit of adjustment at first, but you knew giving Hongjoong the space he needed was crucial— just as it was for you. You had stopped coming along to every single party or hangout back at home, only seeing his parents from time to time unless they visited Joong at his apartment. It was the same with your family; yet again, none of them knowing what kind of rollercoaster had gone on in your relationship during the past two years.

They just took it as you two evolving in your relationship, keeping things healthy. Alive.

They barely knew about all the nights you cried, you yelled, breaking dishes and cups; having Wooyoung come and save you while Hongjoong stormed off.

You suppose it’s better that way. In the end, you two were still growing and learning. Maybe.

You ended up renting a small studio in the heart of the city after snagging a job right after graduation. Hongjoong and San moved into another place of their own, while Mingi moved back home to help his family and work for their company while he continued his job search. Wooyoung also lived in the heart of the city, renting an in-law while he worked his part-time job and internship at a bigger company. Everything seemed to be going well for everyone, and you couldn’t have asked for more at this point. It seemed too good at one point, but you weren’t going to dwell on it; taking everything for what it is.

The club you decided to celebrate your birthday at is packed with people, but you’re able to easily slip in since Wooyoung, Hongjoong and the rest of your friends chipped in for a VIP table. The DJ was already blasting his music, while you and your friends were off to a quick start with shots. It didn’t take long before you were drunk and dancing the night away with everyone, with Hongjoong— sharing cute, affectionate moments in between. It’s not until he steps away with San to grab another drink at the bar that Mingi swoops you away and playfully dances around with you for a bit; this being the very moment when everything changed.

When your world came crumbling down in one quick, swift motion.

“Dude, to be honest.” Mingi lazily keeps his arm around your shoulder while leaning in towards your ear. “I didn’t know if you and Hongjoong would actually make it through.”

“We had our rough patches, Mangi. I wasn’t sure what things would look like either, but we’re here.” You smile at him and he laughs.

“I know, I know. It’s just.. he had been with Tara a lot. It was confusing.” You furrow your brows at him. “But, I’m glad you two are okay and back to being good. Like.. I’m glad he’s with you. I know he can be dumb but I’m glad it’s you. You’re good for him, sometimes I don’t think he realizes it.” You’re a little appalled at the stuff coming out of Mingi’s mouth, and half of you wants to blame it all on the alcohol. Though, you know you can’t because where on earth would Mingi come up with this? Shit doesn’t just form out of thin air.

“Uh, yeah. I hope so.” Is all you respond with before he pinches your cheek and leaves.

“There she is.” Hongjoong finds you in the crowd, another glass in his hand. “Taste this, it’s so good.” You sip on the drink and nod in approval.

“Thanks, babe.” He gives you a look.

“You okay, baby girl?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Have you seen Ara? I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His tilts your chin up.

“Yeah, I just really need to pee and freshen up.” He slowly nods.

“She’s with San over there.” He points behind you, where you find Ara and San flirting around like they always do. “Seems kinda busy though? I can wait for you outside the bathroom.”

“No Joong, it’s fine. I’ll be alright. I’ll be quick.” You give him a small smile, and he finally lets up with a quick kiss to your forehead and a quick ass-grab. You interrupt San and Ara, letting them know you need her to accompany you to the bathroom. She agrees, linking her arm with yours, but just like Wooyoung, she can tell something else is wrong. Who knows, maybe Hongjoong is onto you too, but you could care less because you don’t know how to confront him about this.

Nor do you want to on your birthday.

“My birthday girl! Are you drunk enough? Why do you look so sober?”

“It’s nothing.” She looks at you and holds you close to her side. “I just need some space.” Quite frankly, you just need her company more than anything. You just need somebody other than Hongjoong.

“Why? Did something happen with Hongjoong?”

“Mm, no.” You lie. You lie to her, you lie to yourself. You lie and you lie in hopes that it’ll ease the pain slowly seeping into your body, in hopes it’ll somehow make things easier for you to accept the harsh reality of your relationship.

Of your home.

“You sure? Do you wanna sneak out of here and go back to my place? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” You nod. “Or do you want me to get Woo?”

“No, no. It’s okay. I’m just gonna freshen up and head back out there. Thanks for coming with me.” She smiles and squeezes your arm as you two move to the front of the bathroom line.

“Of course, my love!” She chuckles. “I’m glad you did because I didn’t realize how badly I needed to pee.” You laugh, resting your head against hers until a stall opens up for you two to squeeze in and share.

The rest of the night, you’re distancing yourself from Hongjoong enough so that you can still enjoy the night, but not keep him too close. It’s fucking painful to hear Mingi’s words repeatedly in your head, and even though you don’t have concrete evidence to back it up, you already know it’s not needed. You just know, and that is the worst feeling. And this— this is the same gut-wrenching anxiety that you’ve always felt every time she was around, every time you saw her name randomly pop up. It’s the same feeling in your gut, the same feeling that was telling you something was wrong,

Hongjoong doesn’t catch onto anything else, or at least, he doesn’t question you. Instead he has his hand on your thigh and showers you with kisses, oblivious to the fact that Mingi might have just knocked over and spilled his jar of secrets. The apartment is quiet since San is out grabbing food with a few others, giving Hongjoong leverage to kiss you in the living room— his urge, his need, evident through his touch, the deepening of the kiss, Hongjoong pushing himself up against you. But you break the kiss with a simple [but sad] smile, encouraging him to go wash up so you can follow. He laughs and whines a bit before he’s finally grabbing clothes and heading for the bathroom. You’re able to release the breath you’ve been holding, even though your chest hurts and you’re trying your best to not let this completely consume you.

The universe has different plans. Maybe, just maybe, it had been time for things to unravel.

A ding comes from Hongjoong’s phone, and you can’t help but glance at the screen. It’s Tara, but you’re having to unlock his phone to view the preview this time. You nervously navigate to his text thread with her, finding that the entire thread is choppy— big gaps in between dates, some closer than others. But, your eyes land on the first text in the thread and you instantly feel sick to your stomach.

It’s a text from about a year ago, during that summer when you spent with Hongjoong, with his family. The summer you couldn’t spend a second away from him because all you wanted was Hongjoong, all you wanted was to kiss him, cuddle him, keep him close.

The summer he bought you your favorite breakfast bagel and smoothie before dropping you off to go ‘home.’

hongjoong: do you wanna come over and stay the night at the apartment?

tara: yeah! should i leave soon?

hongjoong: yeah im just gonna be here

tara: i’ll be on my way!

tara: joongie i’m outside

hongjoong: meet you at the door in a sec

You feel your hands shaking the more you go through the thread, eyes welling up with tears as the realization hits and settles. 

Hongjoong made you trust him, made you believe in everything he said. You put your faith in all his actions, thinking he was truly doing his best to make up for everything he’s done and said.

All of that going to waste.

hongjoong: you home? can i stop by and say hi?

tara: yup!

There is a huge gap after he claimed he so-called cut her off, but it doesn’t mean that the thread ends. There are other texts between them asking if the other is going to be at so and so’s house, or if the other is going to be at so and so’s party. There’s texts of Hongjoong asking if he can pop by and say hi at her place before there’s another big gap and Tara’s texting to ask if she can see him [spoiler: he says yes].

tara: are you going to channie’s?

hongjoong: yeah, are you?

tara: i’m not sure, i wasn’t really feeling it

hongjoong: go 😞

tara: lol why the sad face, isn’t your girlfriend coming?

hongjoong: nah shes not..

tara: ohhh okay, maybe then!

hongjoong: just go, wanna see you ☹️

You don’t even read the recent text because you simply can’t. You remember every single time he mentioned those kick-its, those parties, but not once did you ever think he’d mainly go to see Tara and vice versa. You toss the phone aside and begin to pack your things, fitting them in the bag you came with— not even worrying about how you can haul the rest out right now.

“Girl, I just got home from dropping Ara off. Please don’t tell me I have to slip back into my shit and—”

“Can you meet me at my place? Please.”

“Oh. Shit, yeah, of course. I’m already on my way.” He says, picking up on the shakiness in your voice. Hongjoong is still in the shower and you’re grateful you chose to drive to his place so that you can easily slip out and leave. You’re very much sober and at your breaking point; all you can think about is getting away as soon as possible.

Because the moment you step through your door, you collapse to the floor and start crying. Crying about all the fights, crying about all the times you let up and let Hongjoong get his way. Crying about all the times you let every little feeling, every little detail, brush over your head. Crying about how much you trusted him, loved him.

“Shit, Y/N. What the fuck?” Wooyoung immediately drops to the floor, arms thrown over you as he shushes you and tries to calm you down. He has never heard you cry this hard, has never heard you long for air this badly in between cries. It kills him and he’s not even sure how he can help you right now. And that for him is a first.

When you’re able to breathe a bit, you let everything out on the table. You tell Wooyoung what Mingi said, you tell him about the texts, you tell him about all these instances that you brushed over and didn’t think much of— when in fact, you should’ve stuck to your gut feeling and questioned everything. When you should’ve pressed harder, when you shouldn’t have trusted him so easily. And the realization hits you again because fuck, it is so painful to know that the person you loved for two years hadn’t really been there for you. That he was physically there, but his heart, his soul, wasn’t entirely yours. Probably wasn’t even yours to begin with. And you are so, so stupid for thinking Hongjoong was over her.

Maybe you were just the excuse.

The rebound.

The one he needed for his own selfish reasons.

It was never about you.

And Wooyoung continues to hold you and rock you, because there’s nothing like finding out that the person you invested in didn’t do the same back. There’s nothing like finding out the time you spent on someone, the amount of vulnerability, trust, emotion that came with loving someone for two years, had meant nothing. Wooyoung could murder Hongjoong right now, but that’s the least of his worries because Hongjoong isn’t crying his fucking heart out on a studio floor.

You are.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” You mumble into his chest. “I don’t know why I wasn’t enough, Woo. How could he just do that to me? I meant nothing to him—”

“Y/N, don’t ever let me hear you blame yourself again. You hear me? This was not your fault. You gave everything your all to him because you were an amazing girlfriend. He fucked up, and he fucked up big time. This is all him.” Your broken sobs continue to echo in your studio, your phone now constantly going off from Hongjoong’s texts and calls. When he unlocked his phone to text you, he noticed Tara’s thread open. So he panics, and he panics.

Calling, texting. Almost ready to jump in his car and explain this even though he can’t.

But Wooyoung shuts off your phone and locks the door, telling Yunho, San and Mingi to tell Hongjoong to back the hell up. That he doesn’t want him near you, and that Hongjoong would know better than to confront the both of you right now.

It all feels like a blur, like white noise; static.

2 years of nothing.

Home to him might’ve meant so many different things; people, places, feelings. But to you, home was Hongjoong. Hongjoong has always been a home to you, everything about home. A home wasn’t a home without him.

But tonight, home looked a little different. Home looks like the empty bed you’re staring at, the dark room, the stillness of your surroundings even as Wooyoung sleeps on the couch. Tonight, home felt a little different, especially when you cry and feel your heart shatter to a million pieces looking at the cold, empty space next to you in bed, Hongjoong’s clothes from your closet tossed all over the place, ripped pictures across your desk that Wooyoung had to snatch out of your grip.

Because did you deserve this? All of this? 

It was never about you.

Home was meant to be you and Hongjoong, but all the significant cracks in the relationship that lead to this, the one unfortunate blow that completely destroys you— every bit of you, everything you know, all the love that you’ve had. 

Now, there is nothing left of you.

Nothing left of this home you built.

—a/n: ty for sitting through this very personal piece of mine; a reminder that you are beautiful and so, so deserving of the best love and happiness. ♡

—taglist: @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @hyukssunflower @everyonewooeverywhere @mcsalterego @persphonesorchid

[amphitriteswife]

Foolish love

Pairing: Jonggun x reader

Source: Lookism

Summary: visiting Jonggun in jail

Genre: angsty. Sort of fluff idk tbh

Warmings: it sucks ass and its short but uhh its one of my 101838227 concepts about him

.

.

.

‘I love you.’ Jonggun sighed as he heard the words leave your mouth. His hands were finally free of those annoying handcuffs. His body still healing from injuries and damage he took during the many fights he experienced some days ago. Most of them were patched up or in bandages, the only one being visible was the bruising near his right eye. Really, your words made him tired, but to you it was different. Your words were full of emotion, they were genuine. Something Jonggun knew himself. Yet he still thought it was foolish. Love is foolish.

Jonggun already saw how Love made one of his pupils blind, he was talking about Eli Jang. Someone he favored for a long time over Johan or Samuel. Eli had the motivation, the talent, the strength to walk in the footsteps Jonggun had. Yet he threw it all away for a woman. And look where it got him. Eli experienced even more problems, questioning his own morals, all for the sake of his family and daughter. One can understand why, one can sympathize, and one can relate. Yet Jonggun still never understood why he would throw it all away. How foolish of him.

Just as how he thought that Eli’s love for Heather is foolish. He considers your love for him foolish. Something you shouldn’t have for him. Something you never should’ve had since the beginning. What he wanted was someone who could kill him. Someone that could handle him in a fight. Admiration. Motivation. Money. Will power. When he met you, you had it all. You still do. You put up a fight he never experienced. He didn’t have to fight so many others to get to the main point. It wasn’t a fights based on purposes or goals. Just seeing who was stronger. Who could really tear off one’s skin. Who had more experience. Who had more power. Who had more stamina. Both of you didn’t get to lose, nor win as the fight was broken up. But it didn’t go to waste either. No matter where you went or what you did. Jonggun saw pleasure in chasing you and taking every opportunity to test you once again. And every time he looked even more unhinged, even Goo admitted that he found him creepy sometimes.

The open mouthed smile. The white ray of teeth. The salvia still hanging off it. And every time he was in UI state, which made him look even more demonic. Jonggun was a devil who had good morals. Sometimes. Yet did a lot of questionable things. He was crazy, yet that’s the sole purpose of why you found him attractive. Isn’t it weird? How do did you ever come to love someone like him?

‘You’re foolish.’ Is what he said. He didn’t even sound angry. Nor sad. Nor disappointed. It was just a deadpanned sentence. It didn’t hold any meaning. Any emotion. Nothing at all. It sucked. It really did. It’s not like you wanted to love him either. His piercing eyes that most found chilling were beautiful to you. The creepiness of them always made you very intrigued. Even now, when you’re pouring your heart out, he’s uninterested. Perhaps a cold prison does really fit him. But the same could be said to you, you met him there exactly 3 years ago after all. Together with Charles, a man who was just a cleaner of the prison who caused all this mess. Even to you it was all vague and unclear, the only reason you ever went along with Charles was for Jonggun. It was all for him. Everything was.

‘You suck... If it was up to me, i could do anything for you.’ You told him bluntly. It made him raise an eyebrow. He never noticed how attached you were to him. Perhaps he never noticed it all. Why did it even matter? It’s not like you ever wanted something with him to begin with. It’s not something you expected. He’s a loyal person, just not a romantic. But that’s enough. Because although his loyalty laid with Charles, yours laid with him. It’s funny isn’t it? He called you a fool, yet he’s the foolish one for not noticing how the two of you were so similar…yet so different. Seeing him against the other side of the glass in a dark blue uniform. It brought back lots of memories. Yet this time you felt much more saddend. You weren’t in love with him. But you loved him. You wanted him to be happy. To finally be free from Charles, yet when it happend it wasn’t what you thought it would be…how disappointing.

Jonggun on the other hand laughed a little at your sentence when he thought about it. You would do everything for him? How loyal. But truly, that’s not something he wanted. He wanted to be left alone, he declined your offer to see him many times, every time he didn’t even mention why. What an ass. Sometimes he didn’t even show up. Even now when you’re in front of him, pleading and confused. Tears streaming down your face, begging him to at least let you help him. He still only apologized for making you cry without giving you an answer to anything. He always left you in the dark, only telling things that seemed necessary. He could only just stare at you from the other side of the glass with hand pressed against yours, just the thick glass in between both the hands. He only told you some words you couldn’t even understand. Something you still don’t get. Not why. Not when. Not how. But you’ll still follow them anyway. He knows it and so do you. No matter what jonggun says. You’ll always follow them. Just like how he followed Charles

‘Wait for me.’

Those are the only 3 words he told you before leaving on his own regard, he still had time left. Even the guards were confused. But it’s Jonggun. He’s never one to speak much about his feelings or emotions anyway…so once again you’re left in the darknwith unanswered questions and uncertain feelings. What a jerk…a jerk you cared about.

Thank yall for readin :P 🩵🤍

[diorsdahlia]

is it harmless? (iii) (iv)

luke castellan x hypnos!fem!reader, social media au with writing. series masterlist

a/n: lets just PRETEND summer is ending. also i may have let my passion for maths consume me and i got carried away. sorry if u guys hate maths💔💔. also reader hasnt found out luke is the one pranking her

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

the wind has shifted along with the blazing rays of the sun and soon, the leaves will start to brown. well technically no since camp grounds experiences summer all year round, but the atmosphere will change in the mortal world and that counts. the wind must've gotten to your mother too because you dont know what possessed your mother but she has given you a choice, either come back home after summer or stay at camp all year. you reckon the answer would be obvious, that you would go home after summer and focus on school. but on the other hand, another year of winter depression and spending halloween, thanksgiving, christmas alone with your family sounds miserable.

with a week left until summer ends, panic begins to ensue amongst the younger campers. after weeks of nonstop playing, most of the children now have their noses in books, doing their summer homework or summer reading. which leads to your current situation, how could you deny when two of the sweetest apollo campers, evelyn and sophia, asked you for help on their maths homework? it was just elementary level maths anyways.

so the three of you sat on the grass, you listened attentively as the two recited the multiplication table from memory for the third time in a row. you were teaching them the way your old maths teacher taught you with no calculator, and reciting the multiplication table at least twice a day. a part of you misses her and her tactics must've worked since you weren't terrible at maths.

on the other side of camp was a completely different environment. sweaty, loud, and lots of falling. clarisse and luke had been going at it for three rounds now with clarisse winning all of them. she snorted as she pushed her spear, making luke lose his balance and fall onto the dirt.

"what's up with you today?" she teased.

"shut up. i can't even sleep with all these stupid nightmares." luke grumbled as he stood up, brushing the dirt off of him.

"what nightmares?" clarisse was now intrigued, adjusting the grip on her spear.

"it's stupid. for a week straight now it's the same dream. it starts with me walking through the forest. out of nowhere, i get chased by a freaking cookie. a cookie!" luke rambled, his frustration making him overshare.

"what flavour cookie is it?" clarisse snorted.

luke shot her a sharp glance before leveling his sword. "chocolate chip cookie."

clarisse wasn't expecting an answer and she burst out a laugh, shaking her head. "interesting." she mused, relishing in this rare moment of weakness from luke. then her mind travelled back to you, your fixation on chocolate chip cookies and your rambles on how if you really wanted to, you would give the mighty luke castellan nightmares. a form of payback for all his tweets about you, she reasons.

as if he could read her mind, luke asks. "where's your mistress? isn't yn supposed to be training?"

"oh. she's helping evelyn and sophia with their homework." clarisse shrugged.

"that's not fair. she's skipping." luke frowned a little.

"she can do whatever she wants." clarisse scoffed, maybe a little too defensively. the both got into fighting stance and clarisse took the first move, eagerly landing a hit on luke.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

[satorusugurugurl]

Beach Day with Toji

Tanning and Gambling

Summary: Marie’s Summer Smut Fest prompt: Beach Day

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut, pnv, unprotected sex, cream pie, exhibitionism, shower sex, alcohol consumption, beach time

Word Count: 1,674

A/N: this one sort of took a mind of itself; I got really into it, so I hope you enjoy it! I know I did! 🙂‍↕️🏖

Are you laid out on the warm sand piña colada in hand side contently? Being a higher assassin had perks, including the money you used to go on a tropical getaway with Toji. He was lying in the sand beside you, smirking at the scratch or tickets he bought at the convenience store on the way to the beach. That was Toji for you, always gambling after a job.

You listened as he scratched at it with a delicious taste of rum and pineapple, flooding your mouth as your boyfriend barked a laugh, sitting up quickly beside you. While doing so, his large muscular frame blocked out the rays of sun you had been soaking in. You tried to ignore it, waiting for him to lay back down after he looked at his ticket. But he only continued to snicker next to you.

Peeking over your sunglasses, you looked up at your dark-haired boyfriend. “Did you finally manage to win something?”

“Oh, you bet your sweet ass I did! ¥700,000; looks like we’re ordering tons of room service tonight.”

“Awesome, great, now get the fuck out of my sunshine. You’re going to ruin my tan.”

“Eh?” You felt no warmth of sunshine, meaning your boyfriend hadn’t bothered to move like you had told him to.

“Toji.”

Instead of answering, you were lifted off the sandy ground. “Ruin your tan, huh?” Your drink is plucked from your hand and placed on the ground next to your towel before your sun hat is tossed to the side. Before a protest leaves your mouth, you are thrown over your boyfriend's shoulder. “I think your sweet moody ass—” you scream as Toji’s hand smacks your ass, “has tanned enough for today.”

There was no time to fight against him or protest his actions, let alone throw him any snide remarks like bolting for the ocean water. Ignoring your screams and fists that slam against his muscular back, the only thing your boyfriend does is throw you into the water, smirking at the scream that leaves your mouth. The cool ocean water feels good against your heated skin as you pop your head up, gasping for air. You were fuming with rage and irritation, and he swears he can see the steam rising off your head as you stand up.

“How’s that for ruining your tan?” he tilts his head as you push yourself out of the salty water. What had you been anticipating for snarky remarks or you after him? Instead, he got a face full of water as you splashed him repeatedly.

A snarky smirk tugs at your lips, as you watch Toji, drag his large hand down his face, tongue running over the scar on the corner of his mouth. “How’s that water in your face?!”

Instead of responding to you, he pulls his T-shirt up and over his head, throwing it towards the umbrella. He had set up when he first got to the beach. Before it hits the ground, inhuman speed. But you could try to evade him before he inevitably caught up with you. You ran down the shoreline, screaming as your boyfriend chased after you. The whole evading him lasted five seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist in an iron grip vice, dragging you further into the water where the waves washed over both of you.

You laughed and playfully fought against him the whole time as the salty water and sand rushed over you both. It wasn’t until you were completely soaked in water with sand in your hair that Toji pulled you out of the water by your arms over the warm sand before he plopped directly in the spot, the same spot now shaded by palm trees and your umbrella.

“Alright, get back to your tanning. I’ll be over here trying to win some more money.” Toji cockily said as he plopped down into the sand next to you.

You found yourself staring at him, watching the ocean water drip down his well-defined jawline, leaving you craving less mixed cocktails and more of him. Rolling onto your knees, you crawled over to him, pressing kisses down his jawline while your hands rubbed up and down his chest. Toni groaned slowly, closing his eyes, losing himself at the sensation of your delicate fingers tracing over his abs, trailing lower and lower until you reached the top of the swim trunks.

“Can I help you—?” There was a flirty, almost smug tone to his voice.

“Ooh~ I think you can.”

Toji growls as you grip his cock in your hand, squeezing it. “Yeah~? And what can I do for you? Need another fruity cocktail?” You stand up, pulling him with you, dragging him down to the enclosed showers just a bit away from the beach.

“I want your cock.”

Oh, and Toji gave you his cock. The lukewarm water from the showerhead above you rained down over both of you as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist. Your nails dug into his back while you slammed into the wall of the outdoor shower again with a force that shook the whole stall. You gasped, throwing your head back as Toji snarled in your ear, his hands groping your ass, squeezing it in both of his hands.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as Toji chuckled roughly against your neck. “Sounds like you're enjoying yourself~” his teeth nipped at your ear, biting down hard on your earlobe.

“Ahh! Nngh fuck yes, it feels so—” One Toji’s hands leave the fat of your ass to slam against your mouth, preventing you from making any more sounds.

“Tsk, nu-uh—“ he hushes in your ear, dark blue eyes meeting yours, “my little slut, has to be quiet because somebody couldn’t wait until we got to the room for me to fuck her properly.” You tried to silence out a sound of protest, only to have his hand clamp down over your mouth tighter. “Did I fucking stutter?”

You shake your hand and tell him that he didn’t stutter. When he began thrusting up and angling his hips to hit that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. You screamed into his palm, your eyes frantically meeting his, begging him to either slow down or let you come as loud and as hard as you wanted. Toji acted as if he didn’t see the desperation in your eyes. Instead, he just smacked, kissing the back of his hand, where your lips would be, as his other hand gripped your hips so tightly you knew you were going to have bruises.

“That's right~ it’s hard to stay quiet when I’m fucking you. Do you like the feeling of my cock inside of you? You like it when I stretch your fucking hole, don’t you?”

Not again, eyes watering, intense pleasure ran through every nerve of your body. He began to build your lower stomach spreading your legs to the tips of your toes; your walls began to tighten around your boyfriend's hard fucking cock. Toji can see the wanton need in your eyes; he grips you harder and tighter, slamming you against the stall of the outdoor shower, while the water washes away the salt that had dried on your skin and the sand, cleaning you both as Toji fucked you messily.

“Yeah? Is my good girl gonna cum for me? You're going to make a mess all over my cock, right?”

“Mhmm!”

“Then do it make a fucking mess, and the second I get you upstairs and into our room, I’m gonna order the fucking room service, and while we wait for it, I’m gonna make you clean my cock with your mouth. Do you understand me?”

His words were the tipping point that you needed to send you over the edge of mind-blowing orgasm. Your legs begin shaking, convulsing as you wrap yourself as tight as you can around him. You came so hard your squirted all over his cock, the site of the intense orgasm has told his ass clenching tight as he stumbles, ripping the upper wall as he fucks his cum into you. Spurt after spurt of hot sticky cum fills your womb, and you dig your nails into his back, trailing them down his muscles, leaving marks that might last days.

Toji snarls, digging his teeth into your lip, biting you so hard you would have a mark that matched his back. So whenever you both walked down the beach, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that you two were together. Once the stinging in Toji’s back and your neck subsides, he gently lowers you back onto the ground, studying you so you don’t fall over from losing the sensation in your legs. It’s only once your eyes can focus on the water slipping down the drain that you see Toji’s still hard cock throbbing between your legs, colored in a combination of both of your cum.

“Yeah, you see the mess you made?” Toji asks, grabbing your chin and lifting it with his thumb. “You're gonna clean all of it up on your knees, get back to the hotel room, and then I think I’ll have you make another mess on my cock. Think you could handle that, babe?”

“Oh, I can do that. Good thing we're on vacation because I’m going to milk you dry to the point that you won’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try.”

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[lint-beetle4]

Can u do a Macaque x Female reader smut. The scenario is that they had some history and dont want the group to know(but they eventually find out). One night, Macaque and reader talks and they let out how they felt ever since they split. " Like even though I was mad at u I still loved u" or like "When it rained I remembered how u liked it". Then they just make love knowing they missed each other.

Old Scars (Macaque x Fem!Reader Smut)

The Guardian and The Warrior were like the stars and the moon, their light reaching where The Sun's rays missed, casting the world in their protective glow

This story is as old as time itself, yet many failed to realize that as the sun and his shadow grew, the stars twinkled weakly compared to the light around them

So, as The Moon chased The Sun, the stars were left to glow in the dark sky, forever to wait for the cold moonlight to return with the sun's rays

You and Macaque were old, ancient in modern times

Of course, that meant you naturally found each other when empires were thriving and the world seemed big, gravitating towards the other as immortal beings

Yet, something happened between the two of you, something that led to you leaving Macaque's side and away from Wukong

In the modern age, you found him again, surrounded by new friends and old foes

You wanted to run from him, but you couldn't escape his ears. He still remembered what your heartbeat sounded like

So there you were, surrounded by strangers while two pairs of eyes looked at you with such melancholy--deep down, you wondered if death would set you free from the pain you've lived through

"So, Monkey King--this another enemy of yours?" Pigsy sighed, turning to you with a tired gaze. "Look, you're gonna fight, do it outside my shop, will ya?"

You averted your gaze from the surprised monkeys before you, shaking your head with a nervous smile. "No, no, I just smelled the food from your shop. I--err--wanted to buy some noodles."

Pigsy perked up, shock evident in his face. "Oh--Well, you have any preferences in your noodles?"

"No, this is my first time trying them if I'm honest." You chuckled, remembering the lands you've traveled during your life. "I'll have whatever you think is best."

"One house special then."

As you waited for the food, you felt more eyes on you, a group of familiar energies before you. Macaque looked away, almost hiding behind Wukong as a young man turned to the monkey.

"Monkey King?"

Wukong sighed, still looking at you with those pathetic eyes. "It's been so long. Where do I even begin?"

"By letting me eat my food," You shrugged, grabbing the hot bowl. "You haven't changed a bit, Great Sage. I see Macaque still hides behind you as well."

Macaque remained unresponsive to your quip, and you merely ate in spite of it. Wukong stepped closer to you. "Where have you been all this time? I couldn't find you anywhere after--"

"Sorry, but just--not here, Wukong." You set down your chopsticks, eyes boring into the shadow behind him. "I'm trying to eat."

A girl stepped up to you, eyes naively curious yet her voice confident and strong. "So, what your deal with those two?"

You fought back a laugh. "We just have--a complicated past is all. Macaque and I were a team, partners. But, I was too weak to stay by his side. I'm not powerful like him and Wukong."

"It wasn't like that." Macaque growled, glaring at you. "You never came back-- We needed you."

"You didn't need shit, Liu-Er." You stood up, broth sour on your tongue as you paid for you meal with a hefty tip. "Neither of you did."

You left the building quietly, returning to your home.

The presence of The Warrior was obvious to those who knew him--you were no exception. Turning your head, the glowing eyes of your shadow widened, Macaque emerging strangely quiet.

"You needed anything?"

Macaque sighed, a growl underneath his throat. "Look, I just--the argument--everything that happened I just--"

"You what?" You snapped, eyes glaring daggers into the agitated simian. "You didn't mean to leave me behind, fueled by your petty anger towards Wukong? You didn't mean to attack Wukong's master, leaving me alone--?"

"He left us first!"

"The moment Wukong was freed from that mountain-- the moment you laid eyes on him again, you went mad!" You shouted, voice quivering against your will. "You died for a cause that didn't exist. You died trying to send Wukong to his old ways."

Macaque practically snarled. "He killed me."

"I know." You whispered, hugging yourself tightly. "I tried to stop you. I tried to save you from yourself, and you pushed me away."

"You hurt me, Macaque." You shuddered. "And because I couldn't stop you, you got killed trying to be a monster."

"It's just like you to take the blame for something that doesn't involve you." Macaque scoffed. "The world has been brought to its knees more than once, but now you show up, spewing your self-pity?"

"You said it yourself--You didn't want to see me around anymore." You sighed. "Plus, Wukong wasn't too pleased that I didn't tell him about your plan. I didn't want to be a memory lingering over his head, so I simply just--left."

"Oh please, you know Wukong loves to see you." Macaque rolled his eyes. "...I didn't mean it."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I didn't mean to push you away...You were right," Macaque's gaze lowered, his shoulder tense. "I was a fool to try and convince Wukong away from his journey, and I paid the price for it."

"That day--When I left, before I--" Macaque sighed, gritting his teeth. "Before that, I was so afraid of losing you. I was angry at Wukong--at myself, but I was afraid you'd join Wukong and leave me behind."

Macaque reached out, gently grabbing your hand. "I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be forgotten."

"When Wukong told me everything," You smiled sadly. "It was raining... like that Sun had hidden itself away, allowing only darkness in the world. I was--I was--I felt like I lost everything that day."

"I didn't see Wukong again after that, and--" You swallowed harshly, tears emerging from the corner of your eyes. "Every time it rained, I knew I wouldn't see you again either."

You felt strong arms embrace you, squeezing you gently. "I came back."

"I saw--" You laughed. "You certainly made an entry with how much property damage you caused."

Macaque smiled fondly, nuzzling into your hair. "What did you expect? You know I have a knack for the dramatics."

"I missed you so much." You kissed the shadow demon's cheek. "I could never stop loving you, y'know."

Macaque cupped your face, pecking your lips. "Neither could I. I'm so glad to have a second chance with you in it."

In a flash, Macaque had taken you to your bedroom, kisses and light nips littering your neck.

You chuckled beneath the increasingly desperate monkey--only you could get him so worked up with a few words. Macaque tore off your clothes--actually ripping a hole in one of them to your dismay-- hands fondling your body, squeezing your breasts as another traced circles into your hips.

You jolted as Macaque's teeth lightly bit around your nipple, tongue soothing you quickly. The shadow monkey was meticulous in showing his dedication to you, biting at you collarbones and shoulders and rubbing at the soft skin in your inner-thigh.

You gasped lightly as his finger entered your pussy, stroking the inner walls with pressure that you out of breath in an instant. Macaque entered another finger, stretching you slightly as his scissored the two appendages, curling up to find the sensitive spot that made you moan loudly.

His hand drilled into you, fingers digging into your walls while another hand help your hips down. You grinded against hand, practically screaming his name as you felt his tongue lap at your clit, his mouth sucking it lightly.

Your body felt light, drifting through the waves of pleasure that were rising in your core. Feeling your pussy tighten against the fingers that abused your g-spot, you whimper lightly, hips trying to grind deeper into them.

Macaque's voice was by your ear, familiar shadows stimulating your clit and hugging your body, "Go on, cum for me. Let me hear that beautiful voice of yours."

You moaned deeply, feeling your orgasm wash over you almost painfully. You breathed heavily as Macaque pet your thighs comfortingly. You looked at lover, seeing his flushed face gleam at you warmly.

Eyes drifting, you saw how painfully hard Macaque was. Lifting your heavy body, you laid Macaque on his back, crawling over him as your second wind slowly came to you.

"I've craved you for so long, my shade." You smiled, stroking Macaque's cock as he looked at you with wide eyes. "Eternity could pass, and I'll still crave you more."