#well semi-dark romance?

[cherry-leclerc]

lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.  

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY. 

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground. 

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began. 

Where Paradise met Hell.

-

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew. 

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

-

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie? 

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one. 

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good. 

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped. 

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

-

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room. 

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. 

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume. 

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down. 

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man. 

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest. 

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you. 

-

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that. 

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze. 

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming. 

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain. 

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.” 

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair. 

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

-

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities. 

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over. 

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again. 

“Forget it. How would I know?”

-

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless. 

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night. 

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights. 

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.” 

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it. 

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So��What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

-

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all. 

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place. 

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be. 

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke. 

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you. 

Fuck her, honestly. 

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware -  and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults? 

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words. 

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you. 

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff. 

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought. 

He’s fucked. 

-

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along. 

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room. 

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back. 

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you. 

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight. 

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete. 

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion. 

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps. 

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law. 

“What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs. 

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns. 

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes. 

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly. 

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips. 

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin. 

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home. 

-

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce. 

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up. 

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue. 

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello. 

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips. 

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling. 

“Take care, Carlos.”

-

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other. 

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular. 

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience. 

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away. 

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.” 

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

-

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

-

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this? 

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow. 

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully. 

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap. 

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

-

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie. 

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely. 

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.” 

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins. 

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches. 

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast. 

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.” 

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps. 

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

-

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red. 

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action. 

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it. 

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you. 

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss. 

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out. 

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place. 

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck. 

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria. 

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.” 

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax. 

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening. 

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser. 

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips. 

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release. 

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more. 

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment. 

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets. 

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?” 

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours. 

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear. 

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex. 

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

-

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

-

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right? 

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.” 

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be. 

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married. 

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by. 

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?” 

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake. 

“Coming.”

-

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists. 

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey.  C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.” 

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore. 

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene. 

None of it mattered anymore.

[squishymochithethird]

See my issue with finding reading material lately is that I enjoy dark fantasy, and I enjoy romance, but I'm not personally too interested in dark romance, so the thing is when you search for something like "dark fantasy romance" you're mostly going to get dark romance in a fantasy setting, as opposed to romance in a dark fantasy setting.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Coriolanus x commander's daughter!! I've never seen anyone writing this but that would be so hot and forbidden

Request: Getting manhandled by peacekeeper!Coryo or getting fucked while he's in uniform or both YES PLEASE

Note: Birthdays should be spent doing the things you like...so I finished this one today. Enjoy!!

Warnings: 18+, uniform kink, semi-public fingering + oral (f receiving), forbidden relationship,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Coriolanus Snow made a lot of stupid choices in his eighteen years of living, but having an affair with his commander’s daughter took the cake. The clandestine romance was risky and could, at extreme extent, get him executed for inappropriate conduct, but the fire that surged through your whole body every time you were together was addicting. 

The first time you saw him, you were searching around for your father, having a message to deliver to him in person from the head commander. You kept your head high and stayed on your guard as you walked through the heap of peacekeepers in training, not wanting to look like a lost puppy among them. 

You could usually find your way around the base, but today was scorching hot, so you decided to look for someone who would be kind enough to help you get to him. 

A row of younger soldiers caught your eye. They were doing push-ups in their singlets, beads of sweat dripping down the side of their faces. As you were trying to pick which shaved head you were going to ask help from, one of them stood out near the end of the line. 

Walking up to him, you couldn't help but silently admire the way his arms would flex as he continued the push-ups. Damn. Your stomach clenched at the sight. 

‘’Excuse me?’’ You cleared your throat and he looked up, surprising you with the prettiest pair of blue eyes. ‘’Could you help me find Commander Hoff? I have something to deliver to him from the head Commander.’’

The blond cocked an eyebrow, uncertain if he should be helping you. It was his first time seeing you on the base. ‘’And you are to him..?” he prompted, staring you down as his mind embarked a sinful roller-coaster of thoughts. 

‘’His daughter.’’

Although well aware of the dangers, Coriolanus couldn’t stop seeing you. And neither could you. You were addicted to his mouth and the way he could lift you up with ease and fuck you while standing, how his toned chest felt under your palms and attractive he looked in his blue uniform. 

After you bid your parents goodnight, you changed out of your day clothes and ventured to where you knew all peacekeepers spent their nights at. You didn’t know for sure that Coriolanus was at the Hob, but the barracks were all empty and he didn't have many friends in District 12 besides Sejanus, so it seemed likely he would be there.

It didn’t take long for him to notice you in the bar, your dress brighter in color and certainly shorter than the locals. Your eyes met across the room for a brief moment, then you disappeared through the backrooms, confident that Coriolanus would follow suit. 

You could hear his boots on the floors, slowly catching up to you. Your heart quickened its pace behind your chest, excitement building. 

It wasn’t until you made it outside that he called you out. ‘’What are you doing here, Miss. Hoff?’’ he asked, his voice echoing in the dark alley. 

Your feet came to a stop. 

Coriolanus stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between you. ‘’The Commander wouldn’t want his darling daughter in a place like this.’’ Your back was now pressed against his front, an agreeable warmth in contrast to the night air. Coriolanus’s mouth moved to your ear. ‘’A place full of men who would like nothing more than dipping it in your tight cunt.’’

His words should have disgusted you, but they were speaking the truth. These men inside were drinking more than they should and no one was really stepping up for the women they were harassing. With the skirt of your dress hitting above your knee, some could associate it as provocative or inviting. 

You turned to face him, biting your bottom lip when you noticed his uniform button up partially undone, revealing a glimpse of his white undershirt. 

‘’I shall accompany you back to the base.’’ Coriolanus grabbed you by the arm, but you protested. 

He was much stronger than you, so he easily grabbed both of your wrists with a hard squeeze and pinned you against the closest brick wall. You gasped, then quickly realized what game he was playing and you’d be damned if you didn’t play along. 

‘’Are you going to arrest me, Mr. Peacekeeper?’’  

Coriolanus’s grip on your wrists tightened, a stern command following.  ‘’No talking.’’ 

You could feel your own wetness starting to pool between your legs, aroused by the unfolding situation. The game. The play of power. 

His other hand moved from your waist to your hip, slipping underneath the fabric of your dress. He went over the curve of your ass before venturing between your legs to rub you over your panties, but he was met with a surprise. Coriolanus cocked an eyebrow. ‘’No panties tonight?’’

‘’I was hoping to run into you.’’ 

‘’Naughty girl.’’ His fingers started moving over your folds, coaxing a needy moan from you. 

Your jaw dropped as he pushed two long fingers in, making you clench around them. Coriolanus did a scissor motion, then curled them inside, eliciting another moan. ‘’Fuck me.’’  

Coriolanus shook his head. ‘’Sorry, darling. I don’t take any commands from civils.’’ 

‘’Please.’’ 

You could feel his smug smile behind your neck as the words left your tongue. ‘’What would your daddy say if he knew what his little girl was begging me to do to her?’’ Coriolanus pushed his fingers deeper, making you mewl, so needy for him. 

He withdrew his fingers, letting you assume he was going to unbuckle his pants and finally take you, but Coriolanus turned you around and sank to his knees in front of you. The dirt on the ground will dirty his uniform, but he didn’t seem to care. Coriolanus looked up at you, then hooked your leg over his shoulder, leaning forward to kiss the inside of your knee.

You slipped a groan of approval when his mouth got closer to where you wanted him. Then, his tongue ran between your folds, circling your clit slowly. A loud, desperate moan echoed around the dark alley. Coriolanus pinched your thigh, a silent reminder to be quiet. He loved when you were loud, but the Hob was full of peacekeepers. If anyone were to see you together, Coriolanus would be in trouble.

His huge hands sank into your ass, squeezing at the same time he sucked your clit into his mouth. You reached to grab onto something, to keep you from being so loud, but found nothing other than Coriolanus’s buzzed head. 

‘’Coryo…’’ you whimpered.

In the matter of minutes, he had turned you into a whimpering mess. Back arching away from the wall, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

One of his hands moved from my ass, and when you looked down, a pair of blue eyes was staring back at you. They stay burning into you, watching you closely as two of his fingers slide into you, finding that one perfect spot in less time than you need to say his name. 

His pace increased as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue. If the wall wasn’t holding you up, you would have toppled over by now. The feeling kept building, the heel of your shoe digging into the hard muscles of his back as you desperately tried to move your hips to ride his fingers. 

You were wound so impossibly tight you couldn’t breathe. ‘’Coryo, I’m going to cu—’’ 

You didn’t even get the words out as every part of you spasmed, everything tingling and throbbing as you tightened around him. Below you, Coriolanus moaned, the taste of you welcomed on his tongue. 

When he removed his fingers and mouth, he leaned back so he could look up at you properly. He grinned like a devil, his lips glistening with your juices as he sucked his fingers into his mouth.

—

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[zreamy]

won't let you go (this time)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

summary: back home for good after a semi-unsuccessful first year at university in a new city, you’re looking forward to getting back into the routines of your old life in the town you grew up in but the one person you’d been desperate to see doesn’t seem too pleased about your return :(

genre: angst.. ......... fluff, smut, college au, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slow burn

warnings: minors dni, british in a way that's not vague (might be vague.. it's hard to tell when ur british), so so long, sad heeseung, long paragraphs..

word count: 36,007 .. (apparently, i'm in a competition with myself to see who can write the longest fic)

playlist: seasons wave to earth, understand keshi

author's note: writing this fic was like pulling teeth and then cooking pasta out of it.. bUT IT'S DONE !!! also one of these scenes is smth i reworked from a fic i posted to wattpad in 2021.. thanks @asahicore for the beta u rock ! and as always be lmk ur thoughts (positive/negative/anything) 🤍

fic taglist: @enhastolemyheart

Lee Heeseung had often imagined what it would be like when he saw you again. 

Sometimes, he envisioned you standing on his doorstep, playing with the cuffs of your sweater. Other times he’d dream up a chance encounter at the local grocery shop, where you’d be distracted and bump the end of your trolley into his. He’d even pictured a sun-soaked vacation, a gorgeous white sand beach where the temperature would be inching past the thirties. You, laying out on a patterned towel, lost in the pages of a book, and your pretty face obscured by its cover. Yet, even with the sun in his eyes and his poor vision, he’d recognise you without a doubt. 

Regardless of circumstance or setting, in all of his hazy daydreams, you’d look up at him with unbridled love in your eyes and say the words he wanted to hear all those months ago: I choose you. 

Heeseung had always imagined that his heart might glow in his chest, through his shirt like something from Jane the Virgin, and you’d know you made the wrong decision. 

But sometimes, typically when in an alcohol-fuelled state of despondence, these images would be rougher around the edges. Heeseung would be hot, with bleach-blond hair and thick dark brows—a walking, talking beacon of sexual energy when you’d see him. In his head, it would happen at a party or a club somewhere, and he’d be too busy talking to another girl to notice you, his arm hanging off of her, lust clear in his eyes. Somehow, even in sweatpants and an old hoodie of his, you’d still look as beautiful as always. 

“Heeseung,” you’d say, completely crushed with tears welling up in your eyes under furrowed brows. “I choose you.”

Reluctantly, he’d draw his eyes away from the girl and notice you, finally, and a smile would spread on his lips, a mean one, condescending. He’d shrug, wrapping his arm tighter around the girl and say, “You’re too late.” He wouldn’t mean it, but he’d say it just to drive you crazy. Make you beg him to take you back for months until he felt you’d suffered enough—as much as he had. 

These thoughts were few and far between and mainly followed by hot, guilty tears rolling down his cheeks because he knew it was his fault. After all, he was the one to let you go.

For now though, the little round table in Mark’s backyard seats four, and, in the arms of a balmy summer night, Heeseung chooses the seat closest to the fence. The garden light is still busted so in his seat of choice, furthest from the kitchen door, he’ll go completely unnoticed but still see anyone who might join him outside.

His phone is freezing when he takes it from his pocket and unsurprisingly holds no notifications beyond the outsiiiide text he’d gotten from Jake before the party started. Through Instagram stories, Heeseung watches the night play out from the perspective of people who are enjoying themselves while ignoring the voice in his head that tells him he could be one of those people if he tried. 

Maybe he was a fool for believing that tonight would go differently and that the boys would keep their ‘bro’s night’ promise for longer than it took to cross the threshold—but it’s not like he blames them. Maybe he was a fool for believing he would find more company than his somewhat abandoned bottle of Peroni that watches him mockingly from the glass table. 

He grimaces after taking a sip from it, remembering that he was only ever carrying it around so his friends wouldn’t feel the need to load him with shots. Now he’s not so sure that would’ve been a bad thing, seeing as he’s completely sober and aware of the tightness in his chest as he scrolls through the text thread he’s had pinned for years. Its end came abruptly; revived only by an ignored blue bubble saying: i heard you’re back home for the summer.. 

Seeing it now, he regrets hitting send even more than he did two weeks ago. Heeseung hates himself for believing the boys when they said it was a good thing that you opened the message right away. “Means she’s thinking of u 2 dude,” was Jake's message to the group chat (along with four bicep emojis and two red exclamation marks). Jay replied: i hope you guys can talk things out! And Sunghoon didn’t say anything. 

All your conversations bring up memories that hurt more than the last but he has to take a break when he reaches a text you sent last January: i had so much fun tonight, hee, idk how to thank u enough :((( i hope ur not in too much trouble.. i love you i love you and i’ll love you forever !!!

He ended up getting grounded for three weeks and lost car privileges for months after staying out four hours past curfew, but he’d do it a million times over if it meant he’d get to see you as happy as you were that night on the two-hour drive back, running your fingertips over the Sharpie autograph of your favourite author on the book’s front page—“Heeseung?” 

His jaw falls slack and his whole body stiffens. If you don’t count old videos in his camera roll, Heeseung hasn’t heard your voice in over a year. The back door slides shut and when he finally lifts his head, he wants to throw up. Even without the glow of the kitchen lights on your face, he’d still be able to make out the cute point of your nose, and the slight curve of your soft lips. Unfortunately, the breakup only seems to have made you even more beautiful and he hates himself for wishing you were having a hard time too. 

“Hey,” you say. “Can I sit?” 

Regaining his mobility, he moves his shoulders in a stiff shrug. The sound of your chair scraping the concrete makes him cringe and he hates that you chose the seat closest to him. 

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.” 

Heeseung scoffs, his brows furrowing defensively. “You didn’t think I’d be at my friend’s party?” 

You set your jaw. “Okay.” 

An unbearable silence follows, so heavy he can feel it sitting on his shoulders, weighing him down. There’s no way to know how much time has passed but he feels less tense when you start to hum, drumming your fingers against the table to the beat of whatever song the kitchen door is struggling to muffle. If he doesn’t think too hard about the lingering quiet, it feels like everything is okay between you two. 

His heart races when you giggle. “You still do that?” 

“Do what?” 

You smile before mirroring his expression, puffing up your cheeks and exhaling dramatically a few times. Due to the heat, nothing comes of it but you laugh anyway. “You always liked when it was cold enough out to see your breath. I remember having to nudge you every night of summer to get you to stop.”

To Heeseung, there’s something sinister about the fact that you can so easily bring up a memory you share with him. About the fact that even after what happened, his cheeks heat up just from seeing you grin. He deflates, unable to look at you, finding interest in the label on his bottle instead. It’s slightly curled up at its edge, and he runs his thumb over it a few times before peeling it off completely—with some struggle, leaving a sticky patch in its wake. Under your loaded stare, he folds it a little to make a square before trying to craft a swan or a crane (you were the one who knew these things) from the sticker. 

Your hands are just as soft as he remembers when your fingers touch his, though it shocks him so much he drops the label, immediately withdrawing his hands and, for lack of a better option, sitting on them. Even softer than your hands is your voice when you say, “I don’t want things to be so tense between us.” 

It must be easy, he thinks. For you to say something like that after dumping him. Heeseung wants to laugh, to let his head fall back and cackle from sheer disbelief; you really must have some nerve. Instead, a bitterness, raging and sour, works in his chest, choking the laughter into silence. It pushes his lips into a scowl as he lifts his head to look at you. You’re shivering with your arms crossed over your chest and Heeseung softens. Without thinking, he shrugs off his flannel to drape it over your shoulders, almost regretting it when he fixes his tongue to scold you playfully like he used to. Still too hot for a jacket, right, baby? he wants to say. This is the last time I’m doing this for you, next time you’re on your own. Heeseung figures that somewhere, in another reality where you’re still together, a version of him says these things but continues to give you his flannels and jackets anyway.

He’d give anything to be that Heeseung instead. 

Over the last year, he’s been replacing the clothes in his wardrobe. He noticed that during your time together you steadily wore every t-shirt, flannel, and hoodie he owned. Now, as you thank him with a sincere smile, he realises he’ll have to donate his new favourite shirt too. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask, reaching in to find out. A bleak carton of cigarettes sits full in your hands as you look over at him with wide eyes. “You smoke now?” 

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Never.” 

Back and forth between your hands, the box and its contents rustle. “Really? Because this—” You pause to pull a lighter from the same pocket. “—and this tell me something different.”

“Sunghoon’s quitting again,” he explains, with air quotes around the word quitting. 

“Oh.” You let out a laugh, nodding fondly. “He’s on, like, five weeks or something by now, though, right? Surely you don’t still need to carry these around for him.”

His head tilts so quickly he hurts his neck. With knitted brows, he inspects you. Nothing about your expression seems like you’re trying to hurt him, in truth, you look like you’re being quite sincere; your eyes are wide, curious, and your lips are quirked up at the corners with an amusement he adores. “Six,” he corrects. “How do you know?” 

“He told me.” 

“You guys still talk?” 

A shoulder-dropping sigh falls from your mouth as you put the cigarettes and lighter back in his pocket, raking a hand through your hair. “You’re the only one who doesn’t talk to me anymore,” you say in a small voice. 

The five of you stuck together in high school — where he and Jay first met you, Jake, and Sunghoon — and he knew it would be unreasonable for him to expect your shared friends, especially the youngest two whom you’d known longer, to turn on you. He also figured, given how close you’d grown to Jay, and his undying rationality, that his best friend would outright refuse to shun you on Heeseung’s behalf. Even though they didn’t need his permission, he told them that he didn’t want them to feel like they had to pick sides and that he was perfectly happy for them to keep talking to you. On one condition: that none of them tell him anything about you or your life without him unless you’re hurt—a condition they’ve clearly carried out more faithfully than Heeseung expected them to. 

Bile rises in his throat thinking about all the things your friends have kept from him about your year away. His heart twists over mundane details like your class schedules and favourite things to eat for lunch, and his eyes sting with tears over the important stuff like new friends and, worst of all, new partners. 

Heeseung jolts out of his chair, knocking the table so hard with his thighs that his bottle tips over. You’re quick to catch it. “My mum’s calling,” he blurts out, overwhelmed. 

“Heeseung.” 

“I really have to go.” 

“Heeseung!” you call out, but he’s already back inside. 

You don’t follow him. 

But that was in June, and now it’s September. 

While his friends complain about the chill of autumn, Heeseung’s just happy he can comfortably wear hoodies everywhere again. In a cool lecture hall, home to his Ethics and Responsibility class for the next few months, he relishes the feeling of soft cotton against his ears as he copies the course reading list into the first page of his notebook. 

“Is someone sitting here?” 

Heeseung’s stomach sinks to the floor. Reluctantly, he lifts his head, and through the gaps in his bangs, he sees you and the way your face falls when you see him, instantly looking around the room. 

“Oh,” you say, eyes blown. “I’m sorry, I’ll just..” you trail off.

He scans the room, chewing his lip when he realises that, despite the lecturer not having arrived yet, the seat to his left, with his backpack on it, is the only empty one. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant as he takes his bag from the chair and puts it on the floor. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, frowning a little as you sit down. 

In the light of day, he really sees you and a lone butterfly, one he was sure had died with the rest last year, flutters lazily in his stomach—wings buzzing against the lining, tickling him. Even with messy hair and tired bags under your eyes, you’re just as beautiful as the first time he saw you. It’s unfair, he thinks. That you could be dealing with this and still manage to look presentable. Jealousy kills the butterfly, stirring a pit in his belly at the thought that you were able to break up with him and continue with life as normal on the other end of the country, making new friends and new memories as if nothing happened. 

Even when Dr. Kim comes in and starts the class, Heeseung can’t take his eyes off of you. You haven’t lost any of your mannerisms, he notices when you stick your tongue out a little while typing notes as the lecturer says them, barely looking up from your laptop to see the slides. 

At the end of the lecture, all he has to show for it is the reading list and a couple of bullet points that seemed important as he copied them from your screen. Side by side, you silently walk down the stairs to leave the room, and the sight of Sunghoon through the doorway pulls a relieved sigh from Heeseung’s chest. 

Sunghoon’s brows raise seeing you together and he clears his throat when you’re close enough. “Hey, you two! My little study buddies,” he says in a strained voice. “First day back! First day for you, YN, what was that like?” He sounds like he’s reading from a script as he walks between you. 

Heeseung lets you answer, listening to your voice as he walks behind you down the stairs. He wonders if things will be this way forever, briefly contemplating throwing himself over the bannister so he doesn’t have to find out. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it, talking excitedly with Sunghoon about the class, mentioning things Heeseung hadn’t even heard, despite having sat through the same hour-long introduction lecture as you. He trails behind the two of you all the way to the library, where Jay is sleeping with his chin on his arms and Jake is staring at the table of contents in his textbook. You cut yourself off, jogging over to the table they’re sitting at to wake Jay. As soon as you wrap your arms around him, he flinches, waking up with his brows pulled together. 

“What are you doing?” Jay mumbles, trying to shake you off. 

As Heeseung sits beside Jake, he skims over the front page of the textbook, trying to remember what tensile strength means. Sunghoon stands at the end of the table looking at his phone, and you sit next to Jay, pulling your seat a little closer and letting him rest his head on your shoulder. Heeseung looks away, trying to bury the unease building in his stomach. 

Sunghoon breaks the silence. “Can we go get food?” And suddenly, you all stand up, filing out of the library towards the Tesco Express down the road. 

Jay and Sunghoon take the lead, picking up their lunch without much thought before waiting in line at the self-checkout, while you, Jake, and Heeseung spend an ungodly amount of time weighing up options in front of the meal deals. Heeseung gets the same thing every time but looks at every single sandwich, drink, and snack option just in case before picking up his food. 

“Just cheese is crazy, bro,” Jake says, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Heeseung shrugs. “It’s reliable.” 

“It’s absurd.” 

You hum between the two of them, tilting your head thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I think it’s cute.” Your shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug, almost as if you haven’t just paid Heeseung a compliment for the first time in a year and three months. 

Jake’s eyebrows raise, a grin playing on his lips as he glances between the two of you when you step forward, pulling a just cheese sandwich from the shelf too. “Cute,” he repeats. “Sure.” 

Outside, Jay and Sunghoon are sitting on a half-finished brick wall, and while normally, Heeseung would say something to interrupt Jay’s never-ending lecture series on making the most of your meal deal, he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself or the small smile he’s struggling to keep off his face. 

“Hoon, think about it,” he says, resting his giant can of Red Bull on the stepped brick next to him. “A meal deal costs £3. You get a sandwich, a drink, and a snack, all for £3. You, foolishly, bought a sandwich, a snack, and a bottle of water, you gave them money.” 

“Yeah, man, anyone who shops anywhere gives money, that’s, like, an entry-level requirement.” 

“But I’m taking money from Tesco, you get it?” 

Jake sighs, taking a seat next to Sunghoon. “You’re technically right, but you still paid for your food under a promotion Tesco created. If you really wanted to take from Tesco, you should be stealing your lunch. Also, the sandwich he got was £2.85, and there’s more water in his bottle than Red Bull in your can, so I actually think Hoon got the better offer today.” 

Beside Heeseung, you roll your eyes, wrestling with a packet of crisps while juggling everything in your hands. Seeing your struggle, he reaches over, taking hold of your drink and sandwich. “Thanks,” you mumble, smiling. You glance towards Jay and Sunghoon, then back at Heeseung. “Are they always like this?” 

He nods with a slight frown. A tiny laugh comes through your nose as you nod too. 

During the walk back to campus, as you split your sandwich with Sunghoon, Heeseung has an unsettling realisation. If he wants to get you back, he’ll have to start out being your friend. He’s not too sure what that will look like, seeing as the two of you were friends for six weeks — that he spent hopelessly in love with you — before he asked you out. All he knows is he wants to be the one you share your lunch and link arms with unthinkingly. While he assumes that your shared friend group and three out of four classes will naturally lead to friendship, things might go better if he makes an effort.

He doesn’t.

Not today at least. The second and last class of the day ends much like the first, with a heading in his notebook, and slowly reviving butterflies in his stomach every time your knee bumps into his under the desk. Again, neither of you says much as you leave the class to go meet Jay in the library. He’s awake this time, grinning at the girl across from him. 

“They’re so cute!”

“They’re talking.” 

“Yeah, in a cute way. Look at the smile on his face,” you say as if anyone could miss Jay’s grin or the way it widens when he notices you and Heeseung staring. 

Yunjin immediately looks over, waving before getting out of her seat to come over. She greets Heeseung with a hug before flinging her arms around you, gushing about how it’s been so long. Heeseung feels his brow raise when you giggle and  say, “We hung out two weeks ago.”

She loosens her hold on you, looking down into your eyes with a shocked look. “Yeah, two weeks too many. What are you doing later?” 

It feels like Heeseung skipped a chapter and his stomach hurts when he realises he has—a whole year's worth of the contents of your life. Of course, Jay already introduced Yunjin to you, of course, you’re already friends. 

Leaving you with Yunjin in the library, Heeseung and Jay walk back to their flat. They take the long route home, through the winding bike path and over the creaky footbridge by Sunghoon’s old apartment. Jay is eerily quiet, only responding in nods and hums—this silence means one of two things, he’s either too exhausted to speak or he’s saving his words to reprimand Heeseung at home. 

Outside their flat, Jay hesitates, gripping the handle tightly before turning to Heeseung. In his eyes is a familiar look, the one he typically wears before telling someone off and Heeseung bites his tongue lest he pisses Jay off even more. A few times, Jay opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, exhaling a deep sigh as he rests his head against the door. “I want you to know I’m on your side, sort of,” he says. “If it’s too hard being around YN, we can always hang out together instead, just us.” 

Jay’s key clicks in the lock and Heeseung watches, shocked. He didn’t expect that at all. 

“It’s not like it’s hard, just weird, you know?” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, leaving his shoes by the door while Jay locks it before following him into the living room and sinking into the couch. “We have the same friends, so I can’t avoid her, but I don’t think I want to.” 

“Like I said, we can just hang out on our own if we’re on campus.” Jay pauses for a beat, clearly pleased by whatever he’s thinking about as a smile spreads on his face. “It might do you some good being around her though, like, to see why none of us want to date her.” 

The offer is generous and Heeseung spends a while considering it. But as Jay said, it probably would be a good thing to hang out with you if he wants to build the friendship he finds himself craving. 

“It might also do you some good to, you know.. start looking nice again. It’s been a year, dude, and she’s back now, don’t you want her seeing what she’s missing out on?” 

Heeseung cocks his head to the side, surprised and honestly a little offended. “Are you saying I’m ugly now?” 

“No, I’m saying it probably wouldn’t hurt to put some essence in your hair, touch up your roots, and, you know, use deodorant.” 

Reflexively, he grabs the pit of his hoodie, bringing it to his nose and sniffing furiously. The only thing he can smell is fresh detergent and he looks at Jay with a frown. “So you think I should change everything about myself basically.” 

“I hate to be the one to say it..” Jay trails off, head falling back in contagious laughter. “Seriously though, if you want her back or, at least, want her to miss you, start putting some effort in.” 

Heeseung’s eyes are wide as saucers. “She doesn’t miss me?”

“You spent the whole day together, why would she miss you?” 

“So she doesn’t.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Jay shrugs. 

Outside, a cloud moves away from the sun, letting it shine right through the window and into Heeseung’s eyes. He squints a little, groaning before bringing his arm over his face to shield himself. Jay laughs and Heeseung flips him off. “You didn’t really say anything.” 

“Are you crying?” Jay coos. 

“Sure.” 

“Too bad, I’m taking a nap. Club later?” 

Heeseung grunts in response, considering taking a nap too. 

A dramatic sigh tugs its way from Jay’s chest. “Look, it’s not my place to say, but she told me a few months ago she was miserable in first year, something about wanting to see some guy she dated in high school.”

“You knew she was coming back?” Heeseung practically jumps in his seat, sitting up straighter. “You knew I’d see her today and you let me leave the house looking like this?” It’s not like he looks bad in his oversized black hoodie and sweatpants but he might have taken the time to do more than run a hand through his hair this morning if he knew.

Jay holds his hands up defensively. “You said you didn’t want to hear anything about her unless she died. I was just doing what you told me to.” 

“I think it goes without saying that that would’ve been a nice thing to know.”

“Noted.” Jay nods. “Club later?”

Despite saying no, Heeseung finds himself at the club anyway, having a friendly dance battle with Jay while you hype them up, filming blurry videos with your finger over the camera lens. Jake and Sunghoon came out too but went off to find girls. 

Heeseung spent all of pres and the journey to the club worrying about being drunk around you. Or rather, worrying about being drunk around drunk you. Drunk you who typically gets clingy and oversentimental just looking at a bottle of vodka, or brings up old memories and uses pouty, gloss-coated lips to say things without thinking of the consequences. For better or for worse, you haven’t done any of that yet. 

Between knocking back drinks and rivalling the club photographer, you find time to make a look of disgust every time a guy comes near you, immediately shaking your head and pressing yourself against Heeseung before mumbling an apology in his ear each time, even though he tells you it’s okay. Your admirers start to dwindle when he dances with you to a song you like, letting you hold his hand and pull him closer, all while wishing he’d stayed asleep on the couch. 

It’s only when the fifth guy shows up with a stupid smirk on his face, that Heeseung speaks up. His arm finds your waist and he holds you close as he looks at the stranger. “Dude, leave her alone,” he says, angling his shoulder to him in an attempt to shield you. “She’s not interested.” The weight of his words is lost on him until the guy rolls his eyes, shrugging and mumbling whatever as he leaves. 

He saw how uncomfortable you looked after being approached and hated how long it took for you to start enjoying yourself again, so in the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. To look after you. But now, as he stands with his hand on your waist, his skin touching yours at the hem of your shirt, he’s starting to feel like he’s crossed a line. It’s the worst possible time to freeze in place but there’s nothing he can do about it, and Jay staring at him, with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, isn’t exactly helping. 

With embarrassment burning his cheeks and neck, Heeseung finally looks down at you. You look almost as shocked as Jay for a split second before letting your hand rest on his chest, smiling. The moment feels endless until you lean up to his ear and Heeseung has to bend down a bit. “Thank you, Hee,” you say, still smiling when you pull back. 

All he can do is nod, smiling too.

Over your head, he sees Jay grinning and the heat returns to his cheeks. As if suddenly aware of your position — your hands now resting on his shoulders, chests held together by your grip on each other — the smile falls from your face as you take a huge step back, bumping into Jay while Heeseung’s hand slips from your body. 

“Let’s get more drinks!” you yell to Jay, slinging an arm over his shoulders to pull him away. 

On his own, Heeseung dances to three whole songs, only stopping when Yoo Jimin wraps her arm around him, holding him in the world’s tightest hug. “Lee Heeseung, did I just see you all over a girl?” The interaction takes him by surprise, seeing as he hasn’t actually spoken to her since before summer. “Let’s go for drinks soon, to say congrats on finally moving on!” 

This, of course, is when you and Jay finally return. Jimin notices before he does. “Be good to him,” she yells, smiling, and never letting go of Heeseung. “Bad breakup!” 

You stand there, holding two drinks so tightly your hands start shaking, causing one to spill over your fingers. A strained smile spreads over your lips as you nod. “Right! I’ll try!” 

As quickly as she appears, Jimin vanishes with a smile on her face, pleased with herself. You visibly relax, handing Heeseung his drink and swaying to the music again. Just like at high school parties, you let Jay sling his arm over your shoulders as you dance together. Back then, you’d dance with all of your friends while waiting for Heeseung to return, usually with a cup of water for you to drink, but tonight, with Heeseung standing there, it seems like he’s as good as dead according to you. 

It’s around 2 a.m. when you and Jay decide you’ve had enough, with Jay struggling to keep his eyes open. After failing to locate Sunghoon and easily finding Jake with his cap on backwards and makeup all over his mouth and cheeks, the three of you let him know you’re going home. 

As seems to be the unspoken rule amongst your friends, Jay walks between the two of you while trying to convince you both that if you had fun tonight, there’s no reason to regret having gone out. Even if it means you’ll be sitting in class holding your eyes open. Heeseung ignores him, conspiring out loud about Sunghoon’s whereabouts—getting lost on his way to the restroom or finding an ice rink out back. 

For a while, you entertain him before sighing. “I saw in the chat, he said he’s out talking to a girl he saw wearing a band shirt—Nirvana.” 

The notion is so surprising that Heeseung almost stops in his tracks. Jay voices his shock with a raised brow and an incredulous tone. “Hoon listens to Nirvana?” 

“No, but she’s pretty. I had to send him a screenshot of their popular songs on Spotify when one of her friends came over looking for a lighter.” 

At Jay’s request, you and Heeseung spend the rest of the walk back to your flat trying to name fifteen Nirvana songs. By the time you reach the lift in your building, you’ve successfully listed nine and the three of you stand inside while you look for your keys. On your doorstep, you pull Jay into a tight hug, whispering something in his ear that makes him laugh as he pats you on the back and says, “You probably could.” 

Pathetically, Heeseung hopes you’ll hug him too. With no hesitation, you do, arms locking around his neck, leaving him with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. “Thanks for looking out for me,” you whisper, lingering by his ear before burying your face in the base of his neck. 

Heeseung holds his breath, counting to twelve before you lean away from him, your arms in place as you look up into his eyes. “I’m always going to look out for you,” he manages to say. He can already hear Jay teasing him about it when they’re alone, but the smile on your face is worth it. 

In your doorway, you wave goodbye and they wait outside until they hear your lock clicking before heading home, where Jay doesn’t tease Heeseung at all. 

Turns out, getting home at 3 a.m. when he has a class at 10 o’clock doesn’t fit in amongst any of his better ideas, but still, he gets out of bed and gets ready, heeding Jay’s advice and scheduling a hair appointment on his way to class. 

As soon as he sits down, he gets a text from Jay: thinking of getting smth pierced later, come with? 

Heeseung: what is smth.

Jay: cartilage probs

Heeseung: im getting my roots done at 5

Jay: okayyyyyyy good shit man !!! tmrw? 

Heeseung: 👍👍👍

It shouldn’t surprise Heeseung that you look good, but the sight of you walking through the door in your zip-up hoodie and jeans almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re holding your notebook to your chest, stopping in the middle of the stairs and sighing when the white strap of your tote bag slips from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. You apologise to the people behind you before rushing up the stairs to Heeseung’s row, putting your things down and slumping into the seat beside him. The room suddenly feels warmer when you take off your hoodie and next to you and your bare arms, his heart starts to race.

“Do you have, like, an interview or something?” you ask, doodling in the margin of your notebook, filling the space with pretty butterflies that make his heart race.

Heeseung, who hasn’t looked for a job in two years, panics. “No?” 

“Oh.” You nod slowly, looking away from him. “A date? Maybe?” There’s something in your voice that makes him want to say yes and see your reaction, but the look on your face makes his stomach turn. 

“No, ne—just no.” 

“You can tell me if you’re going on a date.”

“Why would I go on a date?” 

You shrug, gesturing to his outfit. Heeseung looks down at himself and the cream-coloured cardigan he’s wearing. “You just look nice, that’s all,” you mumble after a while. Suddenly, Jay’s Prada loafers squeezing his toes doesn’t seem so bad and Heeseung sits through the whole lecture with a smile on his face. 

The leaves yellowed on October first, and unfortunately for Heeseung, the last two weeks didn’t play out how he hoped they would. Of course, he knew that you flinging your arms around him and confessing your love was probably a far stretch. But this is torture. You only talk to him when the rest of the boys are around, and even then, you only say things like, what time does class start? and do you have a pen I can borrow? 

His nice outfits don’t let up, but his hair is so long these days that you don’t take any notice of the throbbing hole through his cartilage that Jay somehow convinced him to get. Or so Heeseung tells himself because his ears stick out as far as his shoulders. 

Today marks the first time he’s sat in the library during the day for more than ten minutes, and it’s surprisingly busy. Most of his library trips take place in the early hours of the morning, playing his way through the Papa’s Gameria franchise on the computer next to Jake, who spends several minutes at a time staring at his fancy engineering software before clicking the mouse and staring again. So seeing the steady flow of students come in and out, setting up camp at their tables with headphones and thick binders, while groups of friends whisper amongst themselves, leaning back in their seats and gasping every now and then feels like a culture shock.

There’s about an hour until your class finishes, and he’s been sitting here for two hours already since his Music and Identity class ended, wondering if he’s making a mistake by waiting for you. Especially because he knows you’re not expecting him to. He’s at a table right by the library’s entrance, so you’ll see him on the way out and it can feel like a chance encounter. Uncharacteristically, he’s used this time quite wisely, deciding to go through the reading he was given on the role music plays in maintaining cultural identity among diaspora communities and making notes in the margins of his handout until your class is done. 

Impatience starts to settle in after thirty minutes so he texts you to see to ask if your class is over yet. Immediately, your response lights up his screen: yeah about an hour ago but i stayed home lmao what’s up :) 

Staring down at the message, he sighs, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he tries to come up with something to say. This goes on for a while until he realises what he’s doing and his heart clenches. How did you go from spending every waking moment texting each other to clutching at straws for a valid reason to talk? 

At the very least, the smiley face you sent is doing wonders for his declining mood. 

Heeseung settles on, “i just left office hours and wanted to know if anyone was still around haha,” before hiding his face with his hands. 

oh nooooooo :( sorry dude, you reply. how’d it go? 

In the six years he spent by your side, he’s never known you to use the word dude—at least not with him. By the looks of things, it seems like your time away was spent studying Jake’s texting patterns or a secret other thing that makes his head hurt when he thinks about it. 

Sighing, Heeseung types back: good! had a couple questions after sem but it went well! 

You react to the message with a heart but don’t reply. He doesn’t have enough time to think about what that might mean because Mark approaches the table, clutching the straps of his backpack with a grin on his face that makes Heeseung feel at ease, like a wide-eyed first year riddled with anxious excitement. 

“You look good, man. You going somewhere nice later?” Mark asks, dapping him up. 

Heeseung shakes his head. “Just home.” 

“Nice.” Mark nods, gasping after a beat. “Did you hear? I made captain!” 

“That’s major, dude, congrats! I knew you would.” If anyone deserves to be team captain, it’s Mark Lee. He was captain of the basketball team in high school and vetoed his spot to Heeseung when he graduated. Two years later, when Heeseung came to college, Mark had been enthusiastic about him joining the team too. 

“I’ve been thinking that my first official act as captain should be getting you back on the team?” Mark’s voice tips up at the end, his brows raising hopefully. 

The last time Heeseung was on the home court, he cried with the ball in his hands because he overheard someone in the crowd saying they didn’t think he could make the shot—they were right. He laughs, shaking his head. “Way too much pressure in uni basketball. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“I’m not giving up on you,” Mark says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I hear your birthday’s coming up, can I host?” 

“Host what?” 

Mark’s hands clap soundlessly as he laughs. “A party, obviously! Twenty’s a big one! I’ll text you the deets, alright?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like Heeseung has a choice because Mark’s already walking away, still laughing to himself.

In Heeseung’s eyes, there’s nothing better than knocking back (more than) a few bottles of soju with friends and singing your heart out in the four walls of a karaoke room. Worried about killing the mood, he enjoys from a distance, staying glued to the booth, ad-libbing for the boys and polishing off their drinks as discreetly as he can. The table is adorned with a collection of empty bottles and buckets of feasted-upon fried chicken that still envelop the room in a mouth-watering aroma, while a green strobe light pierces the air as Jake and Sunghoon wrap up their cover of Party Rock Anthem. 

By the time Jay manages to convince Heeseung to sing something, he’s four bottles in and searching for the most heart-wrenching ballad he can find. Sofa by Crush has always been his favourite karaoke song. Even when it first came out and he was in a happy relationship; even at home, alone in the kitchen, using a broom handle as a makeshift microphone, singing until his voice went hoarse and tears stained his shirt. 

It feels like fate when the song’s title flashes across the screen in big bold letters and he knows there’s no real way to ignore destiny, so he chooses it and stands up from his seat. Weighed down by alcohol and an aching heart, he stumbles to the front of the room to stand with his back to his friends. Clutching the mic until his knuckles turn white, he takes a deep breath, letting the intro wash over him before singing. He gets through the first half of the song before practically caving in on himself, too moved by the lyrics to stay on two feet. To Heeseung’s credit, he’s always had a beautiful voice, so he’s not exactly tanking in that respect, but if he was even a tiny bit more cognisant, he’d scrape himself up from his knees and finish the rest of the song in the same light-hearted way everyone else had.

The lights shift through red and blue, casting a pretty glow over the dim space and streaking purples and pinks all over the walls—aesthetically, the room is as moody as Heeseung feels. If he had eyes on the back of his head (or picked himself and his dignity from the floor) he might notice the way everyone else in the room is struck by his sadness, with all three boys sitting in solemn silence as a drunk Jay records the whole thing. 

Tired of watching his friend fall apart, Sunghoon gets up from his seat, muttering dick at Jay for filming before taking the phone from his hands and cutting off the recording. He lifts Heeseung at the armpits like a baby and takes the mic. Clearing his throat, Sunghoon half-heartedly finishes the rest of the song while Heeseung cries into his shoulder. Their duet scores them 63 points and Jay spends the next few minutes texting. Heeseung appreciates Sunghoon’s efforts, crying more as his emotions oscillate from love for his friend to yearning for you, all while Jake attempts to lift the mood with a genuinely moving performance of Highway to Hell. From the way he’s air-drumming and bouncing his leg to the song, anyone could tell that Sunghoon is desperate to join in, but holding back for Heeseung’s sake. With a hiccup, Heeseung wipes his tears with his sleeve and throws himself out to the front, accompanying Jake with an air guitar. It’s only during the start of the second verse that Jay and Sunghoon join in, and a full-fledged rock band moment falls upon them as if gifted from heaven. 

After another hour of singing and drinking, Heeseung and Jay race up their apartment building’s stairs. Panting heavily, with his heart beating in his throat, Heeseung’s knees ache when he reaches the top — though caught up in catching his breath and the sight of you sleeping against the doorframe — he can’t even celebrate his win. 

“Huh,” Jay says when he joins him. “How’d she get here?” 

Heeseung can only shrug in response. 

Suddenly self-conscious in your presence, he stands up straighter, pushing some of his hair off his forehead. Jay moves from behind him, approaching you, but Heeseung’s too hung up on the way you hold your jacket tight around your body to do the same. He wants to though—wants to help you out, pick you up and hold you in his arms, kiss your forehead and lovingly scold you for staying out in the cold. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well. 

Instead, he remains glued to the spot, watching Jay wake you up, only mobilising when you’re on your feet, stretching your arms above your head. To you, the sliver of skin peeking out where your shirt ends and your jeans begin is a fleeting detail, lost entirely under a veil of just-risen drowsiness. Yet, to Heeseung, it’s everything. It’s enough to make him want to beg you for a second chance right then and there. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well either. 

You’re talking with Jay and there’s a crease in your brow when Heeseung reaches you. Your voices were too quiet to make sense of with the distance but now he hears you loud and clear. “You told me almost two hours ago that you guys were leaving soon,” you sigh, rubbing your neck. 

Jay snorts, missing the keyhole a few times before catching it. “Should’ve just joined in, stupid.” 

“It was boy’s night and you made it very clear that I don’t count. And when I asked what bar you guys were at, you just said doesn’t matter, leaving in ten, and, by the way, none of it was spelt correctly. It felt like you were using code.” 

“Caesar Cipher, perhaps?” 

“Pig Latin, more like,” you scoff, leaning against the wall. 

A mischievous grin spreads over Jay’s lips and Heeseung already hates whatever he’s about to say. “Ixnay on the Eeseunghay.” Yeah, Heeseung hates it. He glances between the two of you, picking up on the smile you can’t hide as you roll your eyes. 

Your gaze finds Heeseung’s and your lips curl into a frown as you look back at Jay. “Otgay ityay.” You nod firmly. 

From context — and memories of numerous private conversations the two of you used to have in his presence — he figures it’s Pig Latin, a linguistic puzzle more intricate than any the English language has ever thrown at him. 

After a beat, you nod towards the open door. “Get inside.”

You follow the boys in and lock the door when Jay hands you his keys. He quickly heads to his room, leaving Heeseung shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the living room, staring at you. Save for Jay’s bedroom, all of the lights are off. The only light shines through the open blinds, a vivid orange beam coming from a streetlight outside, casting a harsh shadow over the room. The terminator line is stark—a clear partition between Heeseung, who’s standing in the shade, and you, who stands in front of the window, backlit by the warm light. You’re glowing. Or, at least, the lighting makes it look like you are—outlining all your edges in soft orange. 

Absently, he plays with the zipper on his jacket—unsure of what’s going on or why you’re here at all. It takes a while, but the words finally escape him. “What are you doing here?” Simultaneously, you ask if he’s okay. 

Even in the dark, your smile warms the room. For you and Heeseung, speaking in unison like that isn’t anything new, so it’s not enough to rouse a reaction from him—nonetheless, he smiles too. Whether by way of drunk optimism or his own sudden acceptance, Heeseung’s starting to feel as though maybe just being by your side, making you smile, might be enough for him. 

“Jay texted me, and I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.” 

“What did he say?” 

“That you were having a hard time.”

Heeseung nods slowly. 

“Actually, he said—” You pause to check your phone. “—Jay said, worried but hyung he is m let down. I think he meant meltdown?” 

“Hyung,” Heeseung repeats, tilting his head as if the word is foreign to him. A crease runs along his brow, Jay is way drunker than he let on.

“Huh,” you utter, tilting your head too. “I actually thought m let down would’ve gotten a bigger reaction out of you.” 

A moment passes, and then another before Heeseung says, “You can sit if you want. I don’t know if you’re going to stay long or anything, but you can always sit here.”

You smile and he can hear it, watching you take your coat off before sitting on the couch. It’s a bit of a stretch from where you’re sitting but you reach over to turn on the lamp in the corner and Heeseung sits too, as far away as he can. You look comfortable, like you’re supposed to be there and the thought warms his heart.

“You didn’t have to come here. I’m happy you did but you didn’t have to,” he says after too long. 

A frown tugs your lips down. “Of course, I did. I care about you, Heeseung, you know that.” 

Now doesn’t seem like the time to argue, so he makes a mental note to mull over this later. “I know,” he lies, his voice nothing more than a mumble as he nods. 

“Did you guys have fun?” 

Deciding it best to pretend his Crush cover went well, he nods again, smiling as he thinks about the nice parts of boys’ night. With your encouragement, he talks happily for a while about their song choices and the way they all came together in the end. “I feel like we’d get on pretty well as an AC/DC tribute act.” 

“Do you know what room you were in? There’s got to be a way for me to pull the security footage and see for myself.” 

“I actually think Jimin works there, she might be able to hook you up.”

“Jimin?” you repeat in a different tone. The shift is so subtle that Heeseung barely picks up on it, never mind placing it or knowing what it might mean. If he were any more delusional, he might think you’re jealous, but the curiosity in your voice tells him to get out of his head. 

“Yeah, this one girl in the year above,” he explains. “She transferred to humanities so we had a couple classes together last term.” 

“Oh, cool.” 

He really can’t work out your tone and it’s disconcerting. Maybe he should talk about Jimin some more. “She’s like mega smart, and really nice too. She was actually at the club that night! The girl I was talking to when you and Jay went to get drinks,” he says, suddenly remembering. 

“Good for Jimin.” 

“I think you’d like her.” He smiles. “You know, if you’re looking for friends or anything.” 

You only nod, pressing your lips together and leaving Heeseung at a complete loss for words. He watches you chewing on the inside of your cheek, playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist. “I’ve always loved your voice,” you mumble, looking down.

“I know.. You used to beg me to stay up on the phone singing for you.” Heeseung presses his lips together after speaking, mentally locking them and throwing away the key.

You nod with a smile on your face that makes his stomach flutter. “You’re, like, the best guy ever.” 

That makes sense. That Heeseung could be like, the best guy ever but not quite good enough to stay with. He mulls over your words and contemplates setting himself on fire. Standing up from the couch, he goes over to his room. From the doorway, he says, “You can share Jay’s bed, it’s too late to go home by yourself.” 

Heeseung closes his door with plans to stay inside the whole night, but only manages an hour before he gets sick of the stale taste in his mouth. He leaves quietly, and in the light from outside, he sees you sleeping on the sofa with your hands tucked under your head. His heart sinks. Without much thought, he carries you to his room, tucks you in and runs away before doing something stupid like kissing your head to go and brush his teeth. Unlike you, he’s not afraid to wake Jay up, pushing the boy over to make room for himself on his bed, where he lays awake for hours trying to figure out what went wrong with you two until his head starts to hurt. 

In the morning, Heeseung doesn’t see you before you leave, but he spends the better part of an hour with his ear pressed against Jay’s door, eavesdropping on your conversation. If you weren’t talking about him he might feel guilty about this, but you are, so.. 

“I just feel bad, you know? I don’t know how to fit into his life and I feel like I’m only making things harder for him by being here,” you say. “Harder for everyone.”

Heeseung grips the doorframe until his knuckles turn white. He’s spent too much time thinking about how to be your friend without actually trying to be, too caught up in his own feelings to see how he’s affecting everyone else. The corners of his lips droop at the thought. 

“We’re happy to have you back, Heeseung too. He’s just.. hurting, you know? I’m not sure if you heard but he kind of got blindsided and dumped by his high school girlfriend,” Jay says. 

You laugh drily and he pictures the way you roll your eyes. “Hey, uh, random Q, what do you know about Jimin?” 

Jay’s quiet for a bit. Or he’s whispering. Heeseung presses his entire body to the door as if it’ll help. “Yoo Jimin?” he asks. 

“Probably. Heeseung’s friend.” 

“She’s cool,” he answers simply. “You’d like her.” 

“So I keep hearing. What’s going on with them?” 

“Nothing really. They met at some party last year, both pretty drunk, and somehow ended up in a random bedroom where she tried hooking up with him.” Jay’s words strike Heeseung like a jolt, his heart pounds and his stomach twists. It takes a lot for him and the knot in his stomach not to burst out of the room and clear things up. The main thing stopping him though, is that Jay’s telling the truth. “But he misread the whole thing and ended up detailing your entire relationship for two hours,” Jay adds after a while. 

“And now?” 

“Why do you care?” Jay’s tone is teasing but the question makes Heeseung spiral. 

His mouth starts to dry up at the thought of you admitting that you don’t care, that you’re over him and just being nosy. Panic swells in his chest and he jumps away from the door as if it’s red hot, scrambling back under the covers of Jay’s bed and falling back asleep. 

In the following two weeks, Heeseung finds himself mastering the art of avoidance. He fills his evenings with pick-up basketball games with Mark on random courts in the neighbourhood and rushes out of class before you have the chance to talk to him. Playing with Mark is fun, but he can’t ignore the regret festering within him, a persistent thorn in his side. Fortunately for him, Jay, whether knowingly or not, presents him with a potential turning point. He’s invited you and the boys over for pres before his party, instructing Heeseung to get his shit together and acknowledge your existence. 

On the night before his birthday, the apartment echoes with your voice, yelling at Jake to get off the floor. Sunghoon’s cackles only get louder, filling the space. Behind his closed bedroom door, Heeseung catches a panicked glance of himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his bangs. He lingers in his room as long as he can, trying to put off seeing you.

Jay opens the door without knocking, a lazy grin on his face and a slight sway in his stance that tells Heeseung he’s drunk already. “What are you doing? We’re waiting.” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. 

Rolling his eyes, Jay lets out a tired groan. It’s an unspoken scolding that Heeseung heeds immediately, following him into the kitchen, where Jake is messily pouring shots on the counter. He doesn’t see you anywhere, but Sunghoon distracts him, cheering and wrapping his arms around him—also drunk already. “She’s in Jay’s room, Yunjin called,” he says. “Oh, yeah, happy almost birthday, man. Twenty is crazy.” 

By the looks of things, Sunghoon’s on a mission to kill Heeseung. Twenty shots for his twentieth birthday doesn’t sound like as much fun as Sunghoon thinks it does, it sounds like a punishment or a death sentence. Heeseung — put off by the smell of vodka — manages four shots before tapping out, deciding that he’d quite like to remember tonight and wake up on his birthday without a headache.

Heeseung’s eyes widen when you show up in the doorway, a confusing sense of surprise washing over him. It’s not like he didn’t know you were here; he heard you earlier. It’s just that your sudden presence catches him off guard. His heart skips a beat and a sudden rush of nerves courses through him. He takes in your appearance, his eyes tracing every inch of you before meeting your eyes. As you run your hand through your hair, you smile at him, so pretty and genuine that he can’t help grinning back.

Your dress is beautiful, of course—black satin, he thinks, with pretty pink ribbons tied into perfect bows on the top, and you’re the only girl Heeseung’s ever wanted in his life. 

A whispered whoa falls from his lips, which seem to rest in an ‘o’ as he stares at you. You’re looking away from him now, focused on the tequila puddle Jake’s left on the counter, grabbing some paper towels to mop it up. Jay snorts beside him, nudging his ribs hard. “You’ll catch flies, Heeseung. Come on—decorum, please.” 

Heeseung clears his throat, running a hand through his hair and wiping his palms on his pants, but he doesn’t make any moves towards you. 

“Do something,” Jay mumbles. 

He nods in response, repeating do something, over and over in his head until he finally approaches you. “Hey,” he says, breathless. His heart hammers in his chest when you look up at him, beaming. 

“Heeseung,” you say. “Happy almost birthday. How’re you feeling?” 

Before he has a chance to respond, you wrap your arms around his waist, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arms fall around your shoulders, holding you close. It’s perfect. Some combination of your warm scent and alcohol causes the butterflies in his stomach to rage, fluttering so frantically he thinks he might be sick. 

“Insane,” he admits. 

He can hear you laughing, feeling your chuckles against his chest. “You know, what?” You lean away from him, arms still around his waist, eyes locked on his and a soft smile on your lips. “Me too.” 

An odd weakness settles in his knees, a dizzying flutter alighting his entire body as he nods. Over his shoulder, Sunghoon calls for him, chanting, “More shots! More shots!” For a while, Heeseung ignores him, watching you until he feels his ears heating up at the top. 

“I think I have to go,” he mumbles, eyes locked on your lips. They curl up into a crooked grin, and you use a hand to pat his chest. 

“Good luck.” 

Heeseung takes a deep breath when you let go of him, taking shaky steps towards his friend, who’s grinning widely enough to show his fangs. “Sorry to interrupt, I think you could use the help though,” Sunghoon says, holding out a shot glass to him.

He shakes his head at the shot, taking it from Sunghoon’s hand and placing it down on the table. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon only shrugs, taking the drink himself, knocking it back with no visible reaction, and Heeseung thinks he must be a monster. “I really think you could fix things tonight,” he says afterwards, pouring another. 

Instead of taking this in stride, Heeseung decides to pretend you don’t exist after hugging you—it’ll be easier that way. To him, this looks like staring at you in your pretty dress and snapping his neck in the opposite direction when you look over at him. 

To appease Sunghoon, he takes another three shots and has to sit down, overwhelmed by the way his cheeks burn and how the kitchen starts to tilt around him. His mouth is oddly dry; a sensation that has nothing to do with you or the way you look in your dress. This time when you catch him staring, he smiles. 

Even in his beyond-tipsy state, Jay manages to ensure everyone leaves the flat before requesting an Uber. Heeseung finds himself sitting cross-legged on the pavement, for some reason, scrolling through his camera roll. 

“Car’s here, get up,” Jay eventually mumbles, nudging his back with the tip of his shoe.

With some stumbling, Heeseung stands up, dusts off his pants and heads to the car. Jay holds the door open for you, and as you slide across the backseat, your dress rides up. Heeseung screws his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, like resetting an etch-a-sketch. Jay’s hand claps his back as he instructs him to get in, which he does. Hesitantly, he slides into the middle seat, glancing to his right to see who’ll be joining you. 

“You’ll thank me later!” Jay calls out, closing the door. 

Before he even has a chance to shift over, your hand lands firmly on his knee, silently urging him to stay put. With a pounding heart, he complies. The back of his hand brushes against your thigh as he fastens his seatbelt, and the feeling of your soft skin against his leaves him breathless. He feels afloat when the car starts moving. A few minutes pass before you take your hand from his knee, mumbling an apology as you place it on your lap, idly playing with your fingers.

Mark lives about twenty minutes away, leaving Heeseung with something close to sixteen minutes to think of something to say. R&B from the early 2000s rumbles through the speakers in the car, vaguely explicit lyrics alluding to something he’s craving fill the space around the two of you, wrapped up in your warm vanilla scent and the fresh peppermint gum you’re chewing. To put it simply, there’s not a coherent thought in his head he could express that wouldn’t get him into trouble. 

“I didn’t know you were on the basketball team,” you say after a while. “Well, I did know, but you know.” 

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly because he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

A beat passes before you speak again. “How was your day?” 

The first thing on his mind is what falls from his lips. “You look beautiful,” Heeseung blurts out, trying to ignore the tinge of anxiety that’s irritating his stomach. “Your dress is.. It’s really pretty,” he adds, feeling as though he won’t lose anything by putting everything on the table. 

“Thanks.” You smile. “You look beautiful too.” 

Heeseung’s breath hitches in his throat and he looks down at his outfit in the dark. If Jay hadn’t interfered, he’d be wearing a hoodie and sweatpants right now, but he’s happy with the simple striped shirt and loose pants Jay suggested, even if it leaves him a little chilly. “It’s, uh, it’s actually my birthday party tonight,” he supplies uselessly.

You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “I kind of just meant in general.” 

“Me too.” 

The car falls silent as he lets his head fall into the space between the headrests and closes his eyes. When you reach Mark’s house, he opens them and finds you staring with a smile. “I thought you fell asleep,” you say.

He shakes his head, sliding over the backseat and opening the door. He didn’t expect you to leave from the same side as him, but he likes the heat on his cheeks as he closes the door for you. Wordlessly, the two of you go through the gate and join Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon who are sitting cross-legged on the porch, giggling around a shared joint. He has no idea how they arrived before you did. 

Heeseung isn’t sure how he loses you guys but it’s not until his third round of beer pong that he actually notices. Lee Jeno and his red eyes are a poor shot, barely managing to throw the ball without hitting Heeseung’s chest or dropping it before he gets to aim. He almost feels bad for the guy when he sinks another one of his cups, watching Jeno frown before pinching his nostrils shut and taking a big gulp. 

Jay’s sudden presence startles him, though he’s quick to grin at his best friend. The smile isn’t returned. Instead, he leans up to Heeseung’s ear, yelling that YN’s crying before nudging his way out of the room. His heart sinks and he offers no explanation to Jeno, following Jay upstairs and into the bathroom where he finds you, sitting on the floor, crying into Sunghoon’s shirt while Jake watches with a frown, picking at his nails. 

“What happened?” 

Jake talks with a hushed tone while Sunghoon helps you up before leaving. “She didn’t say anything, she just asked us to go to the bathroom with her and started crying.” He opens his mouth to continue but Jay yanks him out of the room, closing the door. 

“I’m not, like, upset or anything,” you say after a while, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to ruin tonight for you so I told Jake not to say anything, but obviously, he didn’t listen.” 

“Jake did the right thing telling Jay, none of us want to see you upset.” 

“I’m not upset.” You hit Heeseung’s chest with a weak fist, crying more. “Why does everyone think I’m upset?”

“It might be the tears,” he offers, feeling good about making you smile. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

“Are you using a new liner? Mascara? You still look good.” 

You take a look in the mirror, resting your hands on the edge of the sink. “Yeah, I discovered waterproof makeup in first year.” 

“Is it harder to take off?” 

“Definitely, but it’s worth it, I think, for nights like this.” 

“Yeah, right.” Heeseung nods, watching you carefully as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. It’s like being in high school, seeing you like this. Most of the parties you went to were spent in the bathroom, with Heeseung holding your hair back and trying to calm you down after throwing up. He misses all of it except the vomit. “Are you okay?” 

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you nod but look down at your hands when he says your name. “It’s just a little harder being back than I thought it would be.” 

“Oh.” 

You sigh, playing with your hair as you sit down next to him. “Obviously it’s great seeing the guys all the time, seeing you all the time, but everything’s fucked and we act like strangers and it’s killing me not being able to just..” you trail off. Heeseung is clearly drunker than he feels because it looks like your eyes are stuck on his lips. After a beat you slide away from him, moving until your back hits the wall. A mixture of frustration and something else colours your face. “I just don’t like treating you like a stranger and I don’t know how to fix it.” Before he has a chance to think or to say anything you ask him for the time. 

“It’s 12:23.” 

“Happy birthday!” you say, smiling. “Am I the first to say it?” 

“You’re always first.” Even last year, you sent a text at midnight, so Heeseung’s not sure why there’s a surprised look in your eyes or why it’s making him want to kiss you more than usual. “You don’t have to treat me like a stranger if you don’t want to,” he says carefully, trying to get you both back on track. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.” 

His voice is soft when he says, “Honestly, neither do I.” 

“I wish I never left.” 

“Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” Despite the small smile on his face, he’s still trying to understand what reason you had. 

An exhaled laugh comes from your nose and you nudge him. “Were you secretly trying to get rid of me?” 

“You caught me,” he sighs, holding out his hands in defeat. “I had this whole elaborate plan. I was going to fake my death, but you saved me the trouble. Thanks for that.” 

Both of you share a genuine laugh and the tension in the air eases up a bit. Heeseung’s eyes meet yours; a brief moment of silence follows. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry for leaving. I really wish things could’ve been different.” 

It can’t be your intention to hurt him by saying that, but you do, leaving Heeseung feeling the full spectrum of his emotions. A pang of hurt, of longing—hurting himself even more as he thinks about the could-have-beens. He purses his lips, looking down at his shoes. “Me too.” Sick of the tension, of his feelings, he glances at you, sitting up a little straighter. “How about we start fresh? Clean slate?” 

“Clean slate?” you echo, raising an inquisitive brow. 

Heeseung nods, determined, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Heeseung.”

“YN,” you chuckle, taking his hand in yours. 

He holds onto it, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Funny, you look just like my ex.” 

Your eyes widen, amused. “Wow, Hee, you always know just what to say.” 

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, but Heeseung’s just glad you’re not crying anymore. He feels lighter now, hopefully you do too. Standing up, he holds out a hand to help you get to your feet which you take, smiling up at him as you straighten out your dress. 

“You know,” he says, clapping his hands together. “For a second there, I thought I’d need a manual on how to talk to you again, but I think we’re doing pretty well.” 

Heeseung feels pleased with himself when you laugh, rolling your eyes and nudging his chest with your hand. “Shut up,” you say, light and playful. 

“Are you ready to get back to the guys?” 

You smile at him, nodding before quickly turning back to the mirror. “Do I look okay?” 

It doesn’t make sense to Heeseung that a girl as beautiful as you could ever look just okay. Even with the slight swell to your glassy eyes, you’re the most perfect person he’s ever seen. But he can’t say that. So instead, he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth, tilting his head a bit and raising his hand in a horizontal gesture, his fingers wobbling as if balancing an imaginary scale. A  non-committal sound escapes him, a soft eh before he laughs at the way your jaw drops. 

You punch his arm. “Heeseung!” 

“Come on, you know you look great,” he mumbles, looking away to hide the flush in his cheeks. The sound of your lips spreading into a smile makes his stomach flutter as he opens the door to find Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon sitting cross-legged in the hall in front of it.

“Birthday boy!” Jay yells, springing to his feet and flinging his arms around Heeseung. 

“And YN!” Jake adds from his seat. 

Heeseung hears you saying thanks to Jake before sitting next to him. 

“So, did you two kiss and make up or what?” Jay’s attempt at whispering is futile and somehow Heeseung’s cheeks burn even more as he frees himself from his friend’s hold. 

“Kiss, no. Make up, yes.” 

“Playing the long game, I like it.” Jay grins, patting Heeseung on the back. “Sit down, let’s talk.” 

Heeseung sits in the space next to Sunghoon, holding his legs awkwardly to his chest. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening and he feels like he’s not drunk enough anymore to fully relax into it, until you leave Jake’s side, crawling over to Heeseung and resting your head on his shoulder. In the dim hall, the boys shuffle around but it’s too dark to see what they’re doing—not that he cares much at this point, letting his head rest on top of yours and closing his eyes. It almost sounds quite pretty when they start singing Happy Birthday, and Jake has a tiny lunchbox cake in his hands when Heeseung opens his eyes. Its purple-frosted TWENT-HEE is disrupted by a half-smoked joint stuck in the centre which the flash on Sunghoon’s phone provides a makeshift flame for. 

“Make a wish!” you squeal, clapping your hands. 

It takes three attempts for Heeseung and Sunghoon to coordinate the timing between his exhale and Sunghoon turning the flash off, but the candle is blown out, and, right now. Heeseung has everything he’s ever wanted. 

Almost. 

Heeseung wakes up pressed against the wall with an arm wrapped around his waist. An embarrassing surge of excitement courses through him as he thinks about your conversation and puts his hand over yours. What he’s met with is less of the softness he’d anticipated, and more of the coarse skin and defined knuckles he’s come to recognise as Jake’s hand under the duvet. It only takes a look over his shoulder to make sense of why Heeseung’s nose is grazing his bedroom wall. Behind him is Jake, who’s being spooned by you, and behind you is Sunghoon who’s clinging onto your frame for dear life, even in his slumber. Evidently, Jay’s had a successful night and with his unwavering loyalty to Yunjin, it’s not hard to figure out what happened in the room across the hall.

With his eyes pressed shut, desperate to clutch some more sleep, he hears you mumbling. “Park Sunghoon, if you don’t wake up and let go of me, I’ll kill you,” you say with a tone that frightens Heeseung and sets off a flutter in his stomach. The yelp and thud that follow seem to wake Jake up and he crawls over you to get out of bed, stretching his arms out above his head and making no effort to step over Sunghoon on the floor. You roll over in the bed, wrapping an arm around Heeseung’s waist and pressing yourself into his side. “Happy birthday,” you say through a yawn before getting up. 

He manages to mumble a thanks, butterflies running wild in his stomach and a flush creeping up his neck as he watches you leave the room, eyes stuck on the way your hips move in last night’s dress. He gets out of bed, sighing, untucking his shirt to cover the tightness in his pants before joining his friends in the kitchen. 

Hungry but unmoving, you and the boys occupy the three seats at the small kitchen table, harping on about the different things as Jake whines, begging you to keep it down. 

Heeseung’s first intense emotion as a sober twenty-year-old is betrayal. There are used dishes lying in the sink, plates, mugs, and pans — two of each — staring up at him, wafting the scent of a cooked breakfast, with no leftovers in sight, up to his nostrils. He sighs, wondering if it’s his responsibility as host, and eldest friend, to make more food for everyone, or if, as the birthday boy, he should sit around and wait for someone else to take action. Settling on the latter, he sights up on the countertop, sure to keep his back to you so he doesn’t have to see the low neckline of your dress.

Finally, Jay comes back, whistling an unfamiliar tune and twirling his keys on his finger when he reaches the kitchen. “Hello,” he says simply, leaning against the doorjamb as if he hadn’t single-handedly ruined Heeseung’s birthday. 

Sunghoon rubs his eyes, looking in Jay’s direction. “So now, if I want a nice breakfast after a night out, do I have to fuck you?” 

Jay’s cheeks flush as he looks at his feet. “I mean, I planned to cook for you guys when I got back.” 

“I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” he scoffs, slumping in his chair. 

“I do, Jay. Cook for me,” you say, gesturing toward Jay’s general direction making grabby hands at him.

With a gentle smile, he crosses the room and pats your head. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything,” you mumble into his shirt. 

Jay nods, going over to the fridge. He stands in front of it with his hands on his hips, completely still for almost two minutes and Heeseung only approaches him because he’s worried about the outside heat getting on all the food through the open door. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, uttering his first sentence of the morning. 

Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck as he leans towards Heeseung. “I, uh, finished the eggs, milk, and bacon.” A nervous look covers his face before he continues. “And we ate your Hello Kitty pancake mix,” he adds, mumbling like he doesn’t want to be heard. 

Unfortunately, he is, and Heeseung’s mortified. “My Hello Kitty pancake mix?!” He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “YN got that for me, we were supposed to make those together.” His voice is as whiny as his volume will allow, and he struggles not to stomp his feet. 

“Oh, you were? How’d that work out?” Jay’s words are cutting. 

“Okay, ouch.” 

“Dude, it was expiring next week. Plus, Yunjin just looked so cute when she saw it—I had to.” 

“What if I wanted to make them this week?” 

“You’ve had the box for two years,” Jay reminds him. “Think of Yunjin.” 

With a sigh, Heeseung actually does think of Yunjin. Although the girl he envisions is different from the one Jay wants him to imagine. 

They met on the first day of university. She had a guitar strapped to her back, and a huge amp in hand when she approached him. Her eyes were wide with nervousness or excitement; Heeseung couldn’t tell which. Immediately, she extended her free hand for him to shake. “Yunjin,” she said. 

“No.” He shook his head while pointing at himself. “Heeseung.” From the way she laughed at his stupid joke, he knew she was the next girl Jay would fall for.

Jay had a habit of falling in love with the first girl to do something nice for him on any given day. And then the next girl. But after hearing Yunjin talk about her gap year, spent learning guitar seriously, Heeseung had a feeling things were going to change for his friend. He was right. 

The memory, along with the satisfaction of having figured those two out from the beginning, brings a warm smile to Heeseung’s face. “You owe me.” 

“Yeah, whatever. I owe you,” Jay scoffs, though the slight furrow in his brow suggests genuine remorse. “Just so you know, they weren’t special or anything.. just pancakes, you know?” 

Heeseung chuckles despite himself. “Are you trying to make me feel better?” 

“Maybe a little,” Jay shrugs. To his credit, it works. 

At least until Heeseung’s stomach grumbles, a noisy reminder of why they’re standing there in the first place. He also learns the hard way that the fridge starts to beep when you leave it open too long. Jay laughs through his nose, closing the door with his elbow. 

“What are we eating?” 

Jay seems to think about this for a minute, tilting his head and suggesting McDonald’s. 

If asked, Heeseung probably wouldn’t have said he pictured spending the morning of his twentieth birthday squished between Jake and Sunghoon in a sticky booth, but he’s here and can’t find anything to complain about as he inhales his breakfast. Too caught up in the way his hoodie drapes over you, he listens half-heartedly as you all quiz Jay on his night. It seems like he’s being pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing but the dreamy grin on his face is hard to miss. 

Eventually, you all pile back into Jay’s car, with Heeseung sitting shotgun as a birthday gift, that he doesn’t get to fully enjoy because he falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving. He sinks into the front seat, a contented smile playing on his lips as the warmth of the sun and his full stomach lull him into a peaceful nap. 

At home, he thanks Jay before crawling into bed where he replies to messages before letting his head fall into the pillow.

His eyes don’t even close all the way before you come into the room. “Can I nap in here?” 

Heeseung nods, watching you get comfortable under his duvet. In a matter of seconds, you’re just an arm’s reach away, softly snoring with your back to him. Meanwhile, he spends four hours laying completely still, trying to convince himself that the heat radiating from your sleeping form doesn’t make him miss you more. 

At around 3 p.m. when everyone wakes up, you and the boys hurry away for various mumbled reasons, leaving Heeseung home alone, trying to practise his surprised face for whenever you’re all back with cake and a gift. 

You don’t return until Heeseung’s hair has started to dry after his shower, but you waste no time shuffling around the kitchen before coming back with a pretty cake and real candles with a real flame, singing for him again. With the way Jake’s rushing him, Heeseung can’t come up with a wish in time, so blows out the candles with a clear mind. 

“Woo!” Jake cheers, clapping around a wrapped present that he immediately thrusts into Heeseung’s hands. “Open it!” 

He barely gets to peel the first piece of tape before he jumps off the couch and kneels down next to him. “It’s LEGO! The Infinity Gauntlet, you know? And the best part is..” Jake pauses dramatically. “You get to put it together with your best friend, Jake! Right now!” His excitement is endearing even though he’s ruined the surprise. “The others can help too, I guess.” 

You frown at him. “I paid for the kind lady at the LEGO store to gift wrap that for us.” 

“Yeah, and she did great!” Jake grins. “Can I help you open it? Please, Heeseung, please. You’re taking forever.”

With a smile, Heeseung hands the box to Jake, letting him open it carefully before Sunghoon joins in, tearing the paper to shreds all while Jay records the whole moment like a proud father. All five of you are sitting on the floor now, covered in wrapping paper while Jake holds the LEGO set up like it’s his, blinking hard at the camera with a smile on his face, and it’s Heeseung’s favourite birthday yet. 

my girl: who wants to take me on a date?

Heeseung knows he should probably change your contact name but the notification still makes his cheeks burn in a way he thinks he likes.

jake: heeseung probably 

jake: idk tho

my girl: ok heeseung come to the museum with me for class

sunghoon: next time open with the museum thing holy shit.. i almost fucking volunteered

heeseung: when?

my girl: i would have rejected you hoon

my girl: whenever ur free !

Heeseung’s schedule always has a way of clearing up when it comes to you, and he skips pick-up with Mark to pick you up at your door that evening. You answer right when Heeseung knocks, sliding some rings onto your fingers with a smile on your face, saying, “Hello.” 

“You..” Heeseung swallows, nodding his head. He’s doing his best not to check you out but he really can’t help it when your jeans seem to fit like they were made for you. “Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hey.” 

He clears his throat, finally managing to unstick his gaze from your thighs and gestures in the direction of the stairs. “Shall we?” 

At the train station, you don’t object when Heeseung pays for your ticket, he didn’t mean to, his finger just clicked through for two tickets instead of one. He’s happy when you don’t make a big deal about it, only smiling and thanking him when he hands you the ticket. He stands close behind you, protective, letting the peak-time commuters nudge past him instead of you as you wait in line for the only working ticket barrier. You go through first and Heeseung quietly follows, trying to keep his eyes off your ass and praying that the rest of the day goes by more comfortably than it’s started. 

The train is packed too, so you stand by the doors and, again, Heeseung stands maybe a little closer than necessary, his arm above his head gripping the yellow handrail. “Why did you want to go to the museum anyway?” he asks, gulping when you look up at him. 

“I’ve always liked museums.” You shrug, playing with the buttons on your cardigan. 

“I know, it’s just.. You said earlier you wanted to go for one of your classes.” 

“Right. It’s a requirement for one of them. Visualising Culture,” you explain, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly nervous, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak so he nods, keeping his gaze fixed on yours. “Museum and Exhibition Studies.” 

“Cool.” 

“Yeah.” You nod and turn your head from him, looking through the window. 

Your eyes are stuck on the trees outside, blurring into each other, and his eyes are stuck on the side of your face, staring shamelessly for the rest of the journey. A tinny voice announces the name of the station you’re approaching, and you nudge Heeseung gently, a silent signal that it’s time to leave. Silence seems to follow you out of the station and into the museum, but he tells himself he doesn’t mind. 

For the last hour, you’ve been looking at artwork without taking note of anything or making comments, all while Heeseung observes you, wondering what you’re supposed to be doing for class. “What’s the point of this trip?” he finally asks. 

Without backing away from the painting, you turn your head to look at him, raising a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, what’s your task?”

You chew on your lip for a bit before looking back at the painting. He can’t help but wonder if in all your time away you’ve been flexing some sort of elitist muscle, or if it’s come about as a result of your fancy exhibition studies class that you had to take a test to be accepted into. Finally, you lean away from the painting and use your phone to take a picture of the blurb before looking at him again. 

“I wanted an excuse to get someone to come to the museum with me and I wanted it to be you.” 

Your words are so cute and so honest that his heart warms in his chest, even as he ignores his sadness about the fact you felt like you needed an excuse to hang out. “You could have just asked me.” 

Considering his words, you frown, tilting your head at him. “You make it sound so easy.” 

“It is easy, or it should be, it’s us,” he says unthinkingly. Clearing his throat, he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, that’s, like, the whole point of having friends, right? To hang out with them?” 

“Well.. yes. I just.. I don’t know.” 

Somehow, this makes perfect sense to Heeseung who only nods his head, moving on from the frame when you do. It’s nice watching you admire the art, to watch the soft smile that develops as your eyes scan the canvas. 

You like looking at the paintings when no one else is, to get up close and try spotting the brush strokes. You like imagining the artist and how they might have felt as they painted, and when the paint is thick, protruding from the canvas, when you can see streaks of yellow peeking through a sludgy green. You have a lot to say about the paintings and how they make you feel, and how they don’t make you feel, finding something you like in all of them.

After a while, you grab Heeseung’s hand and excitedly pull him through all the Ancient Egypt stuff, and he’s too happy that his fingers are locked with yours to worry about his aching feet anymore, and you’re so cute with your wide grin that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d like to sit down. He hates you a little when the two of you take turns writing your names in hieroglyphs, and you somehow manage to maintain your neat handwriting. But you make up for it by writing his name too, drawing a pretty butterfly at the end that makes his heart race.

You start rambling about shabtis and how people were typically buried with a few, depending on their wealth and status, but Tutankhamun was buried with something like four hundred, and some of them were even painted to look like him. “Look at how pretty this one is,”  you say, grinning while holding your phone in his face with a picture of one. Your excitement peaks when you reach the big sarcophagus, and you let out a squeal when you open it and three kids run out, bursting into a fit of giggles. You’re excessively cute when you ask him to take a picture of you, and then make him take a video opening the front while you're ‘dead’ inside it. Which takes a few attempts because you’re laughing each time.

You tell him to delete those takes. He doesn’t.

Right when he’s expecting you to get out, you grab him by the wrist and pull him in with you, closing the front of it before letting go of him. Heeseung is certain he’s lived this exact moment before, but he was seventeen and you were giggling like crazy, feeling around in the dark for his shoulders to wrap your arms around before kissing him. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or what you want him to do, and the feeling of your breath fanning his neck in the tight space isn’t helping. 

Silent minutes pass by like hours until a kid pulls the sarcophagus open. The light is blinding but Heeseung steps out, relieved, almost thanking the kid for saving him. You’re fiddling with your necklace and struggling to meet his eyes. When you do though, you shoot him an easy grin, laughing to yourself about nothing. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Drinks maybe?” you ask after a while, playing with the zipper on your jacket. 

Heeseung takes you to a restaurant where university students he’s only seen on Instagram walk around like they own the place. A tired-looking guy comes to take your orders before you even have a chance to take your coat off so Heeseung asks for a minute and the waiter leaves. There’s something in his demeanour though that makes it seem like you only have one full minute to make up your minds. 

“What do you want to drink?” you ask, holding the drinks menu out to him. 

Heeseung closes it, sitting it on the table. “Probably a beer.” 

You laugh at this. “You don’t have to act all manly in front of me.” There’s a soft look in your eyes like you mean it. 

“I actually like beer these days.” 

Your brows raise and your jaw drops before you utter the word whoa. 

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious. 

You shrug, collecting yourself. “You’re just.. different now.” 

The very prospect of being different is shocking to Heeseung who prides himself on being pretty consistent with his behaviour. His brows knit together as he tilts his head. “Because I like beer?” he asks, scoffing slightly at the mere suggestion. 

“I mean, that’s part of it.” To his dismay, this seems to be the end of your sentence. He gives you a little nod, hoping you read his mind and elaborate like he wants you to. “You bleached your hair, pierced your cartilage, what’s next? Are you going to tell me you have a tattoo?” 

Heeseung feels his breath catch in his throat when you say the word tattoo but you don’t seem to notice. “It’s been a year,” he points out, folding the corner of his napkin, pressing his thumb against it with enough pressure to leave a defined fold and have it stick up a little when he lets go. 

“I know, it’s just.. weird, you know?” Your voice is small when you speak, soft and quiet, barely anything above the noise around you both.

Heeseung nods. He does know. 

“You’re weird too.” 

“How?” There’s a defensive tone to your voice that makes him chuckle. 

“You’ve always been weird.” 

A dramatic frown curves your lips and the waiter is back before you can object. Leaning forward slightly, he orders for both of you, the sharing platter of fried chicken, your French Martini, and his controversial draught beer. He doesn’t miss the way you raise your brows when he orders the beer, as if you’d been waiting to catch him out or something. After the waiter leaves, Heeseung meets your gaze briefly, matching the gentle smile on your lips before looking away. 

The drinks only take a few minutes and you thank the waiter before looking over at Heeseung, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you slide your cocktail over to him. “Do you want to try?” 

He nods, lifting the glass and moving the straw out of the way to take a sip from the rim. Nodding his head, he hums in approval, eyes widening. “It’s good.” 

You lean back in your seat, twirling the straw when he hands the drink back to you. “Yeah?” you ask, smiling triumphantly as if you made it yourself. “A normal person would’ve used the straw.” 

Heeseung can’t help but roll his eyes, liking the way you laugh. “Are you acting out because I called you weird?” 

“A little.” 

The waiter places the platter at the centre of the table with a small smile, that you match, clearly hungrier than you’d been letting on as you lick your lips at the sight of the chicken. Heeseung’s stomach grumbles quietly as the scent hits his nose and he feels like he hasn’t eaten in days when a plate lands in front of each of you. A comfortable familiarity settles over him when he lets you pick first, and he knows you feel it too from the sweet smile you give him before eyeing the food. You take a while considering every wing, even though all of the pieces are scarily identical, before picking one and Heeseung follows, choosing with much less care than you, but enjoying it nonetheless.

Under your light-hearted scrutiny, he orders a cocktail the next time the waiter comes around. It’s much better than his beer, and so quickly, one cocktail turns into two until both you and Heeseung are four drinks in, laughing over nothing and putting in an effort not to slur your words together. 

Time seems to pass at the same rate as your drinks, though neither of you seems to notice until you check the time on your phone and your mouth falls into a gasp. Heeseung does the same when you show him your screen, you only have ten minutes to make the fifteen-minute walk back to the station so you can catch the last train. 

He gets up to settle the bill as quickly as humanly possible before you grab him by the hand and book it out of the restaurant. Though breathless, he knows he can’t let up, running as fast as his legs will carry him as he tugs you along behind him. Somehow you still have it in you to cackle every time either of you trips up. 

Out of breath, you both slump into the first seats you find, sobering up a little after the run. He looks at you and feels his heart snag in his chest. “You okay?” he asks, huffing out a breath that pushes his bangs into the air.

“No,” you whine, pouting and resting your head on Heeseung’s shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours reaching his hand out to grab your own. He squeezes it gently, in a way he hopes is comforting. You lock your fingers with his before he can pull away and Heeseung’s heart starts pounding again. 

He doesn’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until the train reaches your stop and you don’t react. He doesn’t want to wake you up, nor does he want to let go of your hand, but he knows he has to. Heeseung nudges you gently, rousing you from your sleep. “Let’s go,” he mumbles. 

Stretching your arms above your head, you nod while yawning. 

You take tired steps alongside him on the short walk back to your apartment, not saying anything until you reach your doorstep when you yawn once more, looking up at him. “I actually had fun today, thanks for hanging out with me.” 

“Actually?” Heeseung raises a brow. “Did you think you wouldn’t?” 

You shrug, chewing on your lip. “I thought it might be awkward.” 

“It kind of was.” 

“Maybe,” you admit with a nod. “It was a pretty successful first date though.” Your eyes are like saucers as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “Not in that way. I’m only saying ‘date’ because that’s what I said in the chat—I would’ve called it a date if Hoon came with me, you know? I didn’t see this as a date if that’s what you’re thinking. Because it wasn’t. And I didn’t.” 

“Mhm,” Heeseung hums with a sceptical look on his face, finding amusement in watching you scramble to correct yourself. “First dates are always awkward, baby, don’t worry.” The endearment slips out before he can help it, his heart stopping in his chest until he sees you smiling. 

“Well, yeah, but this wasn’t a date, baby.” 

“Are you sure? I mean, you made me pay for your train ticket, I paid for dinner and drinks. As far as first dates go, I’ve been a perfect gentleman all night.” 

“That you have.” You nod once, firmly. “I’m not going to pay you back or anything. And this is hardly our first date.” 

Heeseung grins despite himself. “Is this your way of saying I can bill you for our other dates? Do you have savings?” 

Your head falls back in laughter, the sound infectious as it falls from your lips. You sigh softly, straightening up after a beat and nudging his shoulder with your fist. “Stop making me laugh or I’ll do something stupid like kiss you.” 

His heart races in his chest, caught between your laugh and the thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “I feel like if we pulled up a typical date timeline we’d be right on track for that, don’t you think?” 

“Heeseung,” you mumble, face softening. It doesn’t seem like you’re finding this funny anymore. Your gaze locks on his lips — a hyper focus that makes him press them together nervously — before snapping up to meet his eyes. You gulp. “Goodnight, thank you for today.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Don’t say that or I’ll take you up on it.” 

Heeseung shrugs. “You say that like I’d have a problem with it.” 

“You wouldn’t?” 

“Never.” 

A small laugh comes through your nose as you smile up at him. “I’ll see you, let me know when you get home.” 

“Got it.” 

Wordlessly, you open the door, crossing the threshold before saying goodnight again. Heeseung says it back, watching you shut the door and waiting for the lock to click before he leaves. 

He’s never drinking with you again. 

Heeseung feels like he’s settling into the role of your friend quite well. So well that he can spend time alone with you without the discomfort he felt in September. Maybe he’s taking liberties, bending the word friendship to suit him, but as you lie in his bed together, your head on his chest as you nap, he can’t bring himself to care too much. He knows he’ll get hurt by this at some point, but for now, he’s just happy to play with your hair and try his best to fall asleep too. You don’t stir when Jay opens the door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him, tilting his head before closing the door quietly. 

Sleep never reaches him, but he pretends to yawn, rubbing at his eyes when your alarm wakes you up, making a point to stretch his arms over his head and only respond to you in a lazy mumble when you speak. “Whose idea was it to nap between classes, again?”

“I think it was yours.”

“Damn,’ you mumble, yawning again before laying back down, head returning to his chest as if drawn by a magnet. “I think ten more minutes, fifteen, and then we wake up and go back.” 

“Or we could skip?” 

The suggestion makes you jolt upright, fully awake now. You let your eyes drag over his face, and maybe Heeseung’s being hopeful or straight-up imagining things, but your gaze lingers on his lips for more than a few seconds before you gulp and meet his eyes. “Lee Heeseung trying to skip class? I never thought I’d see the day.” A smile spreads over your lips, turning into a laugh as you throw your head back. “That was funny, Hee. Let’s go.’

Heeseung’s brows furrow, watching you stretch your arms out in front of you. Was it so hard to believe he would skip class if it meant spending more time with you? His lips settle into a pout. “I’m serious.”

“No, you’re scaring me. Come on, let’s go,” you say, making no attempts to get up. 

To prove a point, Heeseung shifts under the covers, lying on his side with his back to you. “You go ahead, I’m staying.” 

You sigh but don’t get out of bed, only lying down next to him and draping an arm over his waist. “Ten more minutes.” You press yourself against his back and he feels his heart racing. As quickly as he feels it, you stiffen behind him. “I’m not crossing a line, right? Holding you like this? It’s always been easier to sleep if you’re next to me,” you say into his shirt. 

Remembering the way you would cuddle into his side during sleepovers, his heart aches, wondering if you had endured the same sleepless nights as him. Heeseung only lifts your arm to turn onto his back, pulling you onto his chest like you had been earlier. “Fifteen,” he says. 

Seeing as neither of you bothered to set another alarm, you sleep through class, only waking up when it’s dark out and Jay comes back. “I bought dinner, come eat,” he says, leaving the door open on his way out. 

Wordlessly, you both peel yourselves from bed, dragging your feet to the kitchen to wash your hands before joining Jay in the living room. Heeseung sits cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table while you and Jay sit on the couch. He’s not awake enough to fully register your conversation over the rustle of plastic takeout bags and his sudden overwhelming hunger, but you’re telling Jay to shut up, mumbling something and he lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest when Heeseung turns around to hand over your food. 

With his elbows on the table, he takes a bite from his burger and has to suppress a moan. Most of your conversation with Jay goes over his head and he doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until you’re standing at the door pulling on your shoes. Given the way Jay’s lying on the couch, Heeseung assumes he’s on walking-you-home duty and grabs a jacket before stuffing his feet into Jay’s slides. 

The conversation is light as you walk together, Heeseung making sure he’s on the edge of the pavement the whole time and letting you talk about your friends. The walk has become so natural now that he only realises you’re approaching home when you take out your key to open the door to your building. 

“Do you want to meet before class tomorrow? To go over the slides we missed today?” you ask, with something behind your eyes that Heeseung sleepily interprets as hope. 

He nods, smiling at you and waiting for you to lock the door before he leaves. 

Jay’s awake when Heeseung gets back home; he can’t say he’s surprised. Heeseung only nods at Jay, who sits on the couch, but he knows his flatmate well enough to know there’s a conversation coming because the TV is off and his laptop is shut. Heeseung makes it all the way to his door before Jay says anything. “You’re in way over your head.” 

Heeseung sighs, not in the mood. “Okay. Night,” he says, opening the door. 

By the time November arrives and Jake’s birthday approaches, everything is back to normal again. Turning nineteen, Jake celebrates with a modest pub crawl that spirals into a three-day bender, leaving him bedridden for nearly a week due to dehydration and fear of a test he’d forgotten to study for. 

In standard Jake fashion, he manages to bounce back and sits across from Jay at his favourite restaurant only six days after his actual birthday. Considering the state he was in, it’s a wonder he can stomach the smell of alcohol, let alone down four cocktails without a pause. Jay and Sunghoon exchange sighs, each supporting one of Jake’s sleeping arms on their shoulders to carry him home. 

“Cover the bill and let me know the amount. I’ll transfer you in the morning,” Jay mumbles before they leave. 

You shake your head when Heeseung asks if you want to go home as well. “Unless you want to,” you say, all of your words blending together. “If you want to go home, we can. I don’t want you sitting here bored or anything.” 

Heeseung smiles. “I’m not bored, we can stay as long as you like.” You seem to take this to heart, nodding and flagging down a waiter to order more drinks. “Let’s maybe slow down a little though,” he suggests. 

He pours you a glass of water and makes you drink the whole thing, withholding your alcohol until you’ve finished the cold tteokbokki in front of you. Gradually, you become more coherent, wiping your face with your hands and sitting up a little straighter. You thank him when he pours soju for you and take tiny sips from the glass here and there, telling Heeseung about some of the friends you made while you were away. There’s Yizhuo—sweet, funny, and down-to-earth. And Minjeong—a quiet girl who needed a while to warm up to new people. You tell him about meeting her for the first time, how unsure she seemed when Yizhuo introduced you two, but by the end of the night, she was falling asleep next to you in bed with her arms and legs tangled around you. 

“Do you miss them?” It’s a stupid question, anyone could tell from the fond smile on your face that you do. 

A beat passes while you think about it before shrugging. “Not as much as I missed being here.” If he wasn’t watching you, or looking you straight in the eye, he probably would’ve missed the longing in your gaze. 

He’s never known you to be subtle after a drink, and Heeseung knows he needs to nip this conversation in the bud before either of you says something you can’t take back. “How are you getting on with your research task?” he asks, while at the same time you say, “I’m so happy to be back.” 

A short laugh slips out of you, a hand falling to the table before wrapping around your glass. You bring it up to your face but don’t drink, only looking down into it as if it’ll tell you what to say. “Are you happy I’m back?” 

“Sure,” Heeseung says noncommittally. 

You sigh, sinking into your seat a little. “I loved you. I still love you,” you mumble. “Even after all that.” 

He’s not sure what to make of this, of anything you’re saying. It’s not like you had a messy breakup or anything. At least, he wouldn’t describe his long-term girlfriend breaking up with him and asking if they could be friends after as messy. Even in heartbreak, Heeseung was a reasonable person, and any reasonable person would’ve said no. Like he did. 

“I still.. You’re still the one for me.” 

His stomach lurches violently. “Don’t say that.” He gets out of his seat quicker than he means to and leaves you at the table, tapping his foot as he waits in line by the bar to pay the bill, praying he’s right about the two of you sitting at table ten when the cashier asks. With a folded receipt in his pocket and too much to think about, he returns to the table, only putting on his coat and mumbling, “Let’s go.” 

For some reason, you don’t seem to mirror his urgency, only finishing off the drink you had left in one go and sitting for a bit longer. He takes your jacket from the back of your chair and holds it open for you, helping you into it when you finally stand up. “Thanks,” you giggle.

Heeseung says nothing. 

The silence and fresh air outside are sobering as he watches an Uber driver through the app, very slowly moving from two minutes away to one before arriving. Maybe if you hadn’t said what you said at the table, he might have warmed to the idea of a forty-minute walk alone with you, but you did say those things and even the thought of this fifteen-minute car ride is unbearable when John (4.9 stars) pulls up on the curb outside. You thank Heeseung quietly when he opens the door for you, and against his better judgement, he walks over to the other side of the car and sits in the middle seat like he used to. 

Slow R&B murmurs through the speakers as the driver pulls off while Heeseung hums along. His thigh is pressed against yours but he does his best not to think about it, only chewing his lip when you rest your head on his shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours before regretting it.

He doesn’t move. 

It feels a little bit like the driver is playing Heeseung’s playlist, as every song he knows and loves seems to come on one after the other, steeping him in an odd comfort in the backseat of this car.

Your hand falls onto his knee so clumsily he’s sure it’s a mistake, so sure you’ll move it back into your lap that he’s genuinely surprised when you don’t. Unsure what to do, he chooses not to acknowledge it, acting like you sitting so close to him, like the feeling that no time has passed, doesn’t make his heart clench. Slowly but surely, your hand inches up his thigh—a motion Heeseung stops as soon as he realises, his hand falling heavily over yours and pushing it back to his knee. He thinks about keeping it there, but when he feels his thumb stroking your skin, he moves his hand immediately. You’ve obviously gotten the wrong idea. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve actually gotten the right idea. You have. But it can’t happen like this. After a few minutes, you move your hand again, and like before, Heeseung pushes it back, keeping his hand over yours and reminding himself not to move his thumb.

You’re drunk. This will pass. 

Finally, the driver parks outside your building, and Heeseung’s sure his “thank you so much” holds the world’s sincerity in it as he unbuckles his seatbelt and practically leaps out of the car. He opens your door and has to undo your belt for you, helping you out and thanking the driver again. 

There’s a couple leaving the building when the two of you reach the door, and with your arms wrapped around his, he thanks them when they hold it open.

The lift takes forever to come and Heeseung pushes the up button five times before it arrives. He lets the girl in fleecy pyjamas with a takeout bag in her hand go in first before following, pressing the button reading 7 before relaxing a bit. Under the protection of a stranger, he knows you won’t do anything. The journey to your floor feels like hours as the lift drags its way up the shaft—why does nothing share his urgency? 

You don’t say anything until the elevator door swooshes shut behind you. “I love you, Heeseung. You know I love you.” You’re saying everything he’s been wanting you to say for ages, but the words make his words sting. 

“Do you know where your keys are?” he asks, though you still have a ways to go before you reach your door. 

“My pocket,” you mumble. 

Heeseung finds your keys, unlocks the door and helps you in. As much as he wants to leave, he knows if he does, you won’t take your makeup off or change, so he holds your hair back for you as you brush your teeth and wash your face in the sink quietly. 

In your bedroom, you search through your drawers, pulling out something to wear. He turns his back to you and ends up face-to-face with an old photo of the two of you from school. 

“You can look, Hee.”

Drawn to the picture, he doesn’t reply. The boys are in it too, but it feels like you two are the focus. Everyone’s smiling at the camera except Heeseung, who — with his arm around you — stares at the side of your face with a lopsided smile. Happiness radiates from his being, lighting his eyes and face.

“I want you to look.” The softness and desperation in your voice tug his heart.

“Come on ba—” Heeseung sighs. “Just get dressed, yeah?” 

You don’t say anything but he can hear the rustle of your clothes as you change. 

Jealousy blooms in his chest, looking at himself three years ago. Happy and full of love for you and your friends, for life. Everything was so easy then. His chest tightens and he has to close his eyes.

Heeseung feels you next to him, hears your jewellery falling into the clay holder on your dresser and opens his eyes, looking at you. You’re in a t-shirt he’s sure belongs to Jake and struggling with the clasp on your necklace. He knows you want him to help but he feels like he can’t move.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really do want to be with you,” you say when you finally get the necklace off. “And I know I’m too late, but I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t want to be with you.” 

You’re so close the peppermint on your breath hits him like a wave. A distinct smell of citrus and summer, of Jake, comes from your body, mixed up with the scent of you in a way that makes him uneasy. 

He gets a headache trying to make sense of your words, if it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with him, then what was it? Even back then, you didn’t elaborate, you just repeated his name and the words: it’s not your fault, over and over until they sounded made up. Heeseung can’t entertain this conversation, not now. Not when you’re drunk and looking up at him with longing in your eyes. “I think we need to get you to bed,” Heeseung mumbles, taking a step back. “I’ll get you some water.”

“But I’m here now and we can be together again.”

“You moving was never the problem. You know that wasn’t the problem.” A tear slips down your cheek and he softens immediately. “I wanted to go with you, I was going to go with you.” 

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, frowning. “This university was your dream. How could I let you give up your scholarship for me?”

“You were my dream,” he admits. “And it wasn’t your decision to make.” 

“You would have made the wrong one.” 

Heeseung scoffs. “Do you think breaking up was the right one?” 

Your silence is brutally telling. You squeeze your eyes shut as if trying to magic yourself out of the conversation, but it only makes more tears fall. A realisation hits him like a truck: you’re thinking about it. A painful lump forms in his throat. How could you have anything to think about? How was breaking up with him, not the single worst decision you’ve ever made? He can’t believe you could have let go so easily if you loved him. Long distance wouldn’t have been easy, but surely if you loved him, you would have made it work. You would have tried. Heeseung wishes he hadn’t asked at all.

“I do,” you say finally, opening your eyes to look at him.

His heart is heavy in his chest. “Okay.”

“Heeseung.”

“What?” 

A stomach-churning sob falls out of you. “I don’t know.” 

Another silence weighs the room down and Heeseung knows what he needs to do. He sighs. “Let’s just.. I should go.” 

You don’t put up a fight, you don’t say anything, only letting your shoulders droop before you sigh and lead Heeseung to the front door. He says goodbye as he puts his shoes on and all you do is watch as he leaves your apartment. He waits for you to close the door and lock it before walking away.

Heeseung walks all the way home and only cries when he closes his door, sliding down the back of it like something from a movie. With tears in his eyes, and his knees to his chest, he pulls out his phone to text you. I hope your hangover isn’t too bad, he types. Let’s only talk when we need to.

The two of you manage to hold this up, with you finding others to sit with during classes, and no one seeming to question Heeseung’s skipping plans or new close friendship with Mark’s group who he spends time with between classes instead. But as always, things have a funny way of going different to how Heeseung expected them to. 

After three weeks of near radio silence, Jay barges into his room with his face scrunched up. “What are you doing?” 

“Right now?” Heeseung asks, confused. Standing by the bed with the corner of his duvet in his hand, in nothing but his underwear, he thinks his plans look a little obvious. “I’m about to jerk off.”

Jay rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what I mean.” 

“Evidently, I do not.” 

“Why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” he asks, squinting at Heeseung. 

“We’re hanging out right now.”

“Forgive me if I don’t count an impromptu circle jerk as hanging out.”

“I don’t.. want to do that.”

Jay clutches his chest. “I’m crushed.” 

Heeseung studies his expression. Serious, an inch of concern pooling in his eyes. “We dated for six years, she dumped me, I turned into a shell of myself, but she moved back home and we’re all friends again, so I think things are looking up for me.”

A deep sigh leaves Jay as he sits on the bed. “What happened at the bar with YN three weeks ago when we all left?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What exactly counts as ordinary for you two?”

Heeseung’s still trying to figure that out. He shrugs. “Making the right decisions.” 

“So you’re okay?”

“Never better.’

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?” There’s a sincere look on Jay’s face as he leans back on his hands.

“Which is why I’m being honest.” 

It doesn’t seem like Jay’s going to let this go, but to Heeseung’s surprise, he smiles. “Perfect,” he says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the mirror where he checks himself out. “Because she and the guys are going to be here in ten. Put some clothes on.”

He does just that, pulling some shorts over his hips and a shirt over his head before pulling the two bean bag chairs stacked next to the couch to sit in front of the TV, claiming one of them with his body by sinking into it. The cosy material is soft against his thighs and he wonders why they don’t use them more. 

Ten minutes go by like seconds when Jay gets up to answer the door, laughing at something one of you says before leading you all into the living room. He’s watching some show Jay left on, greeting you and the boys with a wave before turning back to the TV. Behind him, the four of you laugh and talk on the couch but Heeesung’s too wrapped up in an argument on screen to join in. His attention only falters when he reaches for the open six-pack on the coffee table. It’s barely out of his reach, so he turns around to take a beer, trying to ignore the way his heart sinks in his chest seeing you and Jay cuddled up together. It’s friendly, he knows that. Jay’s with Yunjin and you’re.. He’s still not sure, but it hurts nonetheless. You’re bickering over a bowl of popcorn and he only laughs when you throw a handful at him. 

The red speaker Sunghoon’s holding chimes three times when he turns it on, a Frank Ocean thudding out of it that drowns out the show he’s watching, leaving him to follow along with the subtitles instead. But he can’t focus. 

Heeseung tries to settle his heartache, comforting himself with the thought of the two of you in another reality. One where it’s him instead of Jay. Or one where you come over and sit with him, curling up in his lap, pouting because Jay’s being mean. He pictures himself stroking your hair and kissing away your pout, holding you into his chest when Jake and Sunghoon start teasing you. In this reality, however, he watches you peel Jay’s shirt from his chest and dump a handful of popcorn in the gap, cackling to yourself at the clear frustration he doesn’t verbalise. Heeseung sighs, looking back at the TV and taking a sad sip of his sad beer. 

After a while, you fall into the beanbag next to him, sprawling out over the whole thing and looking at him. “Hey, Heeseung.” 

“Hello.” 

“I’m sorry about that night.” Your voice is quiet, clearly apologetic if the way you don’t meet his eyes is anything to go by.

“Okay.” Heeseung nods and a beat passes. “I meant what I said, what I texted you.” It hurts to say but it’s for the best. He stands up out of the beanbag, making a show of stretching his arms and legs before sinking into the couch next to Jake. Over Jake’s slouched form, Jay shoots him a look, arching a brow. Heeseung only stages a chuckle, shrugging before looking at the TV again. He can’t make sense of anything on the screen. 

Sunghoon emerges from Jay’s room with a grin on his face, asking when you’re going to eat. In standard fashion, the four of you stand around Jay in the kitchen, bothering him by telling him what to do like he’s a child as he puts frozen pizza and some garlic bread in the oven. 

“The middle one’s the timer,” Jake says, pointing at the knobs above the oven door. “It’s there so you can set how long the food needs to cook for, and after you set it, it’ll go off so you know it’s ready.”

“But it’s all up to you and your discretion. You can open the door whenever you want to check on everything,” you coo, patting his shoulder.

If Jay’s actually annoyed, nothing about his smile gives it away as he nods with a clenched fist, closing the door and sitting next to Heeseung on the countertop. Heeseung’s almost too busy focusing on the way his beer heats his stomach to notice the way you watch him with a small frown from barely an arm’s length away. Sunghoon picks up on your declining mood and thrusts an open bottle into your hand. “We like to drink with—” He’s cut off by Jay taking the bottle and setting it behind you on the counter, mumbling cut it out, dude, and tugging you out of the kitchen by the arm when he notices the tears in your eyes. 

He hears Jay’s door close and nobody says anything until the timer goes off and Jay comes back alone, filling a plate with food and going back to his room. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Jake says to the back of Jay’s head, offbeat and half smiling as he washes his hands in the sink. 

Sitting at the table, he watches Jake and Sunghoon eat while pretending nothing’s wrong. 

At the end of the night, when everyone’s gone home, Heeseung gets into bed, barely managing to pull the duvet up when there’s a knock at his door. “Yeah?” he calls out. Jay appears with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly. 

Jay regards him with a frown. “I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to.” 

“Yeah.” He nods, and Heeseung prepares himself for a lecture. “I was going to say, I’m going home next week, for Christmas, so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.” 

The holidays go by in a soju and tteokguk-filled blur, with Heeseung choosing to stay at home until the day of his first class of the second semester so he doesn’t have to be around you. He tells himself it’s for the good of your friend group, as he watches you all make plans in the group chat through notification bubbles, so he doesn’t leave a read receipt. 

The commute is more jarring than he realised. What had been a twenty-minute drive turns into an hour-long journey, including a thirty-minute walk to the train station ‘near’ house, fifteen minutes on the train into the city centre, and another fifteen minutes on foot to campus. He’s drenched in sweat despite the below-zero temperature and has to make a stop to the bathroom to sort himself out.

He arrives early at least, finding the room where his Ethnography: Theory and Practice 2 class is set to start in fifteen minutes. The only indicator that he’s in the right place is the lecturer’s name and contact information written in the top corner of a whiteboard, and Heeseung picks the seat furthest from the door. It’s an elective class and, judging by the nine empty chairs next to him, not a very popular one. He’s relieved at least that he’ll be able to start off the semester without running into anyone he knows, least of all you. As seats start filling up and the lecturer arrives, he’s feeling unusually lucky. 

So, of course, you show up, running a hand through your hair as you walk through the open door, apologising for being late even though there are still two minutes until the class is scheduled to begin. Of course, the only empty seat is the one next to him, which you sit in without looking at him, making an effort to angle your body away from him. Of course, the lecturer assigns a presentation for two weeks time, pairing the class with the person they’re sitting beside. Neither you nor Heeseung say a word to each other, but you raise your hand when prompted to pick a topic to cover. He can’t help his irritation at you for making the decision without asking him, but you look so nice in your hoodie with your hair tied up that his annoyance settles before it has a chance to bloom. 

“YN YLN and Heeseung Lee, we’ll do music and cultural expression,” you say, picking the topic he wanted to do anyway. 

When class is over, you’re quick to get out of your seat, pulling on your jacket and stuffing your laptop back into your bag before leaving so quickly that Heeseung has to leave his stuff behind to go after you. You don’t stop walking when he calls out your name, and too scared to make a scene, he overtakes you, leaving you with no option but to stop in front of him. 

“We should go to the library, get the research and shit out of the way ASAP,” he suggests.

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m going to get my stuff.”

You follow him back to class, watching from the door as he puts his things in his bag before putting on his jacket. You don’t say anything on the walk to the library, when you get there, or when you browse the Cultural Studies section. Heeseung glances at you and you’re chewing on your lip, crouching a bit to read the spines of the books on the lower shelves. “Are you alright?” he asks with genuine concern. 

You look up at him, nodding. 

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t said anything in an hour.”

This makes you straighten up, your brows furrowing in an expression he can’t figure out. “Sorry, Heeseung,” you say, your voice weak. “I’m just trying to figure out if you think I need to talk right now.” 

“Obviously, a paired project is a situation where we need to talk.” 

You sigh, muttering oh, my God, before you look at him. “You know what, I’m going home. Let’s do this tomorrow.” 

“We have class in twenty minutes.” 

“Yeah, I’ll read the slides when I get in.”

Unsure what to say, he watches you walk away, deciding that he should just go home too. 

At the flat he hasn’t seen in five weeks, Heeseung feels slightly out of place, going straight to his room and into bed, not even getting up when he hears Jay coming home. Jay opens the door without knocking, his mouth falling into an excited ‘o’ shape. “Hey, stranger,” he says. “I thought you weren’t coming back, so I started advertising your room on Gumtree.” 

“Any offers?”

“No one as good as you.” Heeseung doesn’t have to look at Jay to know he’s smiling. “Move over,” he mumbles, lifting the duvet. 

Lazily, he rolls over in bed, making room for Jay who makes himself comfortable under the covers. 

“What are you doing, Heeseung?” 

“Trying to sleep.” 

“Talk to me, help me understand.” Jay sighs and Heeseung’s lips curl into a frown. “You’re my best friend,” Jay says quietly, with a tenderness that strikes him. 

“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung repeats like an affirmation. 

“So why won’t you talk to me?”

There’s a subtle hurt in Jay’s voice that upsets Heeseung, who shifts around to lie on his back. “I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that YN hasn’t already.” 

“She only told me that she fucked up.”

Hearing it from someone else’s mouth makes it sound drastic, especially considering he’s the one who left. Again. But he’s too bitter to say that out loud so he bites his tongue. “Seems to be the theme in our relationship.” The words taste rotten when he says them.

“Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you get to be a dick,” Jay says. “What happened?” 

It takes some time but Heeseung explains everything, letting Jay ask questions and make comments until the end when he looks away, pressing his eyes shut and saying, “Oh.” 

“Oh?”

“I don’t think I get it. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Why can’t you just be together already?”

Everything sounds painfully simple when it’s put like that. But there’s too much between you both for it to go that way. It’s not like he didn’t want to be with you when you confessed, it’s that he didn’t know how he could without knowing why you left him in the first place. Without knowing what he did that was so terrible you couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with him, never mind the same area code. 

A beat passes before Heeseung speaks. “There was something wrong, and instead of trying to fix it, she just.. gave up. I would’ve done anything she asked me to. I could’ve changed, could’ve fixed things, but she didn’t even tell me.” 

“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could. I don’t think she wanted to hurt you, Heeseung.” 

“But she did.” 

“Yeah,” Jay admits, sympathy lacing the word. 

“How can I be with her knowing there’s some awful part of me she hates?” 

“It’s not like that, not really.” 

“What’s it like then?”

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say.” 

Heeseung laughs, shaking his head. “Do you keep my secrets as dutifully as you keep hers?” 

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t even know you have secrets.” Jay sounds exhausted as he speaks, and it’s the last sound to come from him until a few minutes pass and Heeseung hears him snoring. 

You didn’t reply when Heeseung texted you asking to meet in the library before class, but you show up anyway, pulling out the seat across from him and dumping your bag on the table. “I don’t know if you saw the email, but the partner work is just for the presentation.” 

“Cool.” he nods, relieved. 

“I think after that, I’ll start hanging out with Yunjin instead, so you’re not uncomfortable.” 

Heeseung frowns, shaking his head. “I’m not uncomfortable around you,” he says. “I just don’t.. get you. You dump me and move as far away as you can. Now you’re back and what? You love me again?” 

You furrow your brows, inspecting him for a moment before you speak. “I don’t love you again, Heeseung. I’ve loved you this whole time.” 

“So why didn’t you choose me? I just wanted you to choose me.” He’s too anxious to know the truth to worry about how desperate he must sound. Until he notices that the guys sitting at the other end of the tables are watching him, their brows arched sharply in a mixture of shock and curiosity. Heeseung runs a hand over his face, hoping the motion might wipe away the flush burning his cheeks.

“You wanted me to choose you over my future?” 

“I could’ve been your future, part of it. I’d never ask you to choose me over university, you know I wouldn’t. I’m saying you could’ve had both.” 

“It wasn’t as easy as that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Heeseung,” you say like it’s an answer. 

“Just tell me why you didn’t want me. That’s all I want to know.” 

The following silence makes him consider packing up abruptly and faking an emergency. He’s sure he could probably fake his death if he slumps in his chair slowly enough. 

You sigh heavily, interrupting his train of thought—now, he’s wondering if he even wants to know. “Because you would’ve put me first,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “If I stayed here or moved away, I would’ve been your top priority and I couldn’t let you throw away everything you worked for, for me.” 

“I loved you, of course, you were my top priority.” He can’t believe he even has to say it, can’t believe you might have thought you weren’t the single most important thing in his life. 

“Heeseung, you were sacrificing your life for me. You missed your cousin’s engagement party to help me study for a history test, you deferred your scholarship entry by a year just so we could go to college at the same time. How could I keep letting you miss out on your life?” 

“Deferring my entry wasn’t just for you,” he lies. “And it’s not like I missed the wedding.” 

“But I think you would’ve if I stubbed my toe.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” 

You sigh again, shaking your head. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t keep living like that, you can’t just throw everything away. You’re such a hard worker, Heeseung, and I’d hate to see you waste that over some girl.” 

“But you’re you. You weren’t just ‘some girl’ you were my girl.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s true. “We were in high school and I was studying constantly; it didn’t matter back then. And you were so far away, it’s not like I could feasibly drop everything and go to you every time something happened.” 

“Heeseung.” 

“You had a choice.” 

“Heeseung.” 

The way you’re saying his name reminds him of your breakup—the pink walls of your childhood bedroom and the pictures of the two of you stuck up all over them, in frames on your desk, and stickers on your light switch. How they seemed to close in around him as he put all of his energy into staying on two feet, instead of falling to the floor and begging you on hands and knees to stay with him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve spent the last year and a half wondering what I did wrong, I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” We could’ve tried, he wants to say. I could have changed and we could’ve tried. 

“I didn’t want you to lose that. I felt really lucky that you loved me like that, and I didn’t want to rob someone else of it, you know. I thought maybe you’d find a balance with someone someday, but I didn’t think that person would be me.” 

Heeseung has to put in an effort to stop his jaw from dropping. How could there ever be someone else? How could you ever think he could have someone else? There’s so much he wants to say, to ask, but he can tell by the way you press your lips together that you’re done with the conversation. 

“It’s not too late.” 

You tilt your head at him. “What?” 

“In your room that night, you said you were too late,” he explains. “I love you.”

“Still?” 

His heart shifts uncomfortably in his chest at the tone of your voice and the way your eyebrows shoot up. “Always,” he says. 

A smile starts to curve your lips, but it slips before it has a chance to bloom, stifled happiness that you cover with your hands, hiding your face completely. “I don’t think we should talk about this here.” Your palms muffle the words but not their impact; you’re right and he knows it. 

It’s been a year—the longest of his life, and the hard part is already over. He knows now and he’ll do anything he can to fix it. “Right.” Heeseung nods but you’re not looking at him. He’s going to fix it. For now, though, he says, “What’s our research topic again?” Despite having had Music and Cultural Expression typed into the search bar since before you arrived. 

With Heeseung’s work ethic and your commitment to being the best, the presentation goes quite smoothly. You make no mistakes, and Heeseung, distracted by how pretty you look in professional attire, manages to stumble through the script he’d rehearsed. The two of you even win the first place prize — satisfaction that you got a perfect score — and celebrate with coffee afterwards. 

Between the four walls of the campus café, you and Heeseung sip lattes that taste like temperature — still too hot to have a real flavour — and laugh with each other about something Jay said when you all hung out last night. Neither of you mentions your conversation from two weeks ago, deciding instead to fall into the patterns of your first term together: napping in his bed after class and coming up with excuses for alone time. He makes an effort to follow through with his commitments, even when you ask him to hang out, to show you that he’s different now. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t said anything about it, but Heeseung tells himself it’s a good thing while missing shots on the court with Mark, too hung up on you to focus on anything else. The only thing left is to figure out a way to be yours again and do everything he can to make sure he doesn’t lose you. 

Over your shoulder, through the window, the sun slips below the horizon, casting long shadows around the café. He takes a deep breath when he looks at you, smiling down at your phone as you take a picture of your half-drunk latte and the milky swirls still peeking through your coffee. A tangible determination settles in his chest as evening’s first stars appear in the sky, he knows one thing for sure: he has to grab the chance to be yours again with both hands, and once it’s his, he won’t let go this time. 

The café may be clearing out, but his heart is full of hope and for the time being, sitting with you as a friend is.. fine. 

You’d often imagined what it would be like if you hadn’t broken up with Lee Heeseung. 

Most of your first year was spent daydreaming about him in all of your usual hangouts. Sometimes, at drinks with your friends, you envisioned him showing up, a smile on his face as he apologised for being late. He’d slide into the booth next to you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. Other times you imagined him showing up to surprise you, sitting on a bench in the quad and grinning when he saw you leaving. He’d run up to you with open arms and a bouquet in his hand, wrapping you in a hug and whispering that he missed you too much to wait another day to see you. You would even fall asleep thinking about FaceTime calls that stayed on overnight or drunken texts after the club, misspelt I love yous and can’t wait to see yous filling your text thread. 

You didn’t tell your new friends much about him, briefly mentioning a partner you’d watched some film with or an artist he liked if they came up, and most nights were spent begging Jay to send you Heeseung’s social media posts and tell you every detail of the day they had without you. Based on accounts from Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, it seemed like he was getting on well, a fact that — while hurtful — pushed you to try and do the same. After a month of avoiding your flatmates, you finally managed to connect with them, going to various social events around campus and rolling your eyes any time a drunk guy complimented you. 

This is why it took you by surprise to see him at Mark Lee’s party in the summer—sitting alone in the garden, in sweatpants and a flannel, looking at his phone with a deep frown etched over his lips. When you think about it, it feels like so long has passed since then and it’s hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago. 

Being back in Heeseung’s life has been more challenging than you thought it would be when you filled out your transfer application. Especially in the weeks since you finished your presentation together, since you suggested the library might not have been the right place for the conversation you were having and never followed up on. 

Now doesn’t seem like the right time either—you’re sitting on the floor in Jake and Sunghoon’s living room with your back against the couch, sharing a blanket with Heeseung. Jay left about an hour ago to go to Yunjin’s, leaving the four of you to your own devices. You know you can’t bring it up with Jake and Sunghoon around, but you’ve had plenty of opportunities to over the last month. 

When you finished your celebratory lattes, Heeseung walked you home. The sky was a perfect inky black, and it was cold enough to see your breath, just the way he liked, so cold he offered you his jacket to wear. He didn’t say anything about it, only shrugging it off and setting it gently over your shoulders, shocking you so much that you stopped walking. The scent of his cologne, dark and woody, was overwhelming as you slid your arms into the sleeves, zipping it up and after three paces without you, Heeseung turned his head with wide eyes. You could have said it then, you wanted to say it then, but you bit your tongue and thanked him instead. He smiled, gulping when you closed the gap, you should have kissed him, he was close enough, his lips just a tip-toe and tilted head away, but you hugged him instead. 

After that, the two of you had all the time in the world together. Between your shared classes and going for meals alone. All the time you’d spend in his living room together, cosy on the couch when Jay would go to sleep. So many moments to talk, to get back together, but the words would die in your throat every time you thought them. It all seemed too cheesy or not cheesy enough, too dramatic or too casual, you couldn’t strike a balance and had no idea how to even find one. 

Last night was probably the most jarring occasion. Yunjin and Chaewon had been trying to convince you to go the club all week but you just weren’t in the mood. They seemed happy enough when you suggested hosting pres—but now you think they’d been hoping you’d be so drunk you’d just agree to go out. Yunjin brought half a litre of vodka and Chaewon brought a soup flask with enough murky cocktail in it to feed a small family. Together, the three of you drank and gossiped around the small table in your living room, with Chaewon’s phone in a glass to amplify her playlist. After taking a whiff of whatever she brought, you and Yunjin decided — for everyone’s wellbeing — to hide her flask and take shots of vodka, finishing off the cider you had left in the fridge. 

“Please come out,” Yunjin begged. “I’ll feel bad leaving you here, all pretty and drunk by yourself.” 

“I’ll feel bad too!” Chaewon added, clasping her hands. “Not bad enough to stay with you, but I’ll probably have less fun.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t even have an outfit.” The words were like music to their ears and you regretted them as soon as you said them. Both girls grabbed you by the hand, tugging you to your room and flinging open your wardrobe. Yunjin looked for a top and Chaewon for a skirt, though both of them gasped when they saw the dress you wore for Heeseung’s birthday. Chaewon pulled it from the rack, holding it out in front of her. 

“We won’t pay for anything if you wear this,” she squealed before she and Yunjin started chanting: Free booze! Free booze! 

You sighed, thinking of Heeseung and shook your head again. That dress, though beautiful, hadn’t been enough for him to lose all composure and skip the party in favour of fucking you into the mattress, and you didn’t love the idea of guys that weren’t him ogling you all night. “Anything but that dress.” 

Yunjin and Chaewon seemed sad, but you were able to distract them by bringing out the disaster cocktail the oldest girl brewed earlier, pouring each of them half a glass and ordering an Uber to come and take them away. You promised them you’d go out next time, locking your pinkies with theirs and closing the door behind them. 

Alone in your room, with nothing but thoughts of Heeseung to keep you company, you called him. He answered right away. You can’t remember exactly what you said but you remember the soft sigh he let out when you said it. You could practically see him tilting his head, weighing his options. 

“I’m trying to get a paper finished, it’s due Monday,” he said finally. 

“But it’s Thursday.” 

“Yeah, and I want to have my weekend free. If you’re still up when I’m done, I’ll come over, okay?” 

You nodded. “Okay.” 

Heeseung hung up after that and you got out of bed to clean up, hoping the time would fly. It didn’t, but your flat was clean again so you pretended not to mind. 

He called you after midnight. “Do you still want me to come over?” he asked, breathless. 

“Please.” There was a knock on your door after you spoke and you mumbled hold on before going to check it. Warped by the peephole, you saw Heeseung standing there, holding his phone to his ear and playing with the zipper on his jacket. He hugged you when you opened the door, asking if you were okay. “Perfect,” you said, looking into his eyes. 

His pretty face scrunched up and he pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers, turning his head. “Well, you smell like a distillery.”

Heeseung stood in the doorway of the bathroom while you brushed your teeth, grinning every time his eyes met yours in the mirror. Tell him now, you thought. You have to tell him now. Those thoughts nagged you as you gargled mouthwash, plagued you when you hugged him again and tortured you when he carried you to bed. 

He stiffened when kissed his jaw. “You can’t do that,” he mumbled, setting you down under the duvet. “Not now.” 

Then when? you wanted to say. “I’m sorry,” you said.

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just.. It’s okay.” 

Neither of you spoke after that, you made room for him on the bed and he lay down next to you, let you rest your head on his chest and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He was gone when you woke up in the morning but he left a glass of water and some paracetamol on your end table, along with a note. 

I had to go to class and you wouldn’t wake up :(  We’ll talk about everything soon, we have to. See you at Jake and Sunghoon’s later? 

— Your Hee. 

If you hadn’t been drunk he might have been okay with the kiss, he might have looked down at you and kissed you properly. You might have talked last night, fixed things—you’ve never regretted drinking so much in your life. 

Things are better tonight at least. You’ve been nursing the same can of cider since you arrived a few hours ago and Heeseung’s only had two sips of his beer, so hopefully, if you get some alone time, the two of you can finally talk. You’re still not sure what you should say, if you should apologise for waiting so long, for leaving in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time, applying elsewhere. You didn’t even think you’d get in but you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least take the chance. It seemed like a sign when the acceptance letter reached your inbox before the term had finished, an unconditional offer to a high-ranking university, you couldn’t pass it up. And knowing Heeseung as well as you did, you knew he’d do anything to be by your side when you needed him, you knew he’d drop everything to move with you if you let him. You’d owe him forever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of you. 

You called Jay in tears after a month away, telling him you made a mistake, that you needed to come back and had already filled out a transfer application. He convinced you to at least stay until the end of term, to actually make friends with the girls you were living with and see how you felt. A week later, he, Jake and Sunghoon showed up on your doorstep with chocolate and booze, hoping your room was big enough for all of them to stay for the weekend, it wasn’t, not really, but for three nights, the four of you slept head to toe in your bed after eating your body weights in pizza and ice cream. There was no talk of Heeseung, even though you begged them, and by the time they left, you felt much better. At the end of your first year, you quietly submitted your transfer application and shared a tearful goodbye with Yizhuo and Minjeong before finally flying back home. The boys seemed happy to have you back, even if it meant sneaking around to hang out with you—A nudge pulls you out of your thoughts, Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

When you look at him, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. His eyes are brimmed with concern, wide and beautiful, a deep brown you’ll never get sick of. His lips are curved into a soft pout, a crease running along his brow that you want to smooth out. 

Heeseung relaxes a little when you nod, but he seems unconvinced. “You sure?” 

You reach up to poke his cheek, grinning when he turns his head, trying to fight a smile. “I’m good,” you say, pressing a dimple into his cheek anyway. 

He holds your finger in his hands, unclenching your fist and locking his fingers with yours. A wide grin stretches over your lips as you plead with your cheeks to stop burning. Jake’s hand interrupts the moment, falling from the couch, limp and curled into a fist that smacks the back of your head. He’s fast asleep, not stirring at all even when Heeseung laughs. 

Unfortunately, you lose rock, paper, scissors and have to wake Jake up. He shifts a little on the couch when you shake him, whining at you to stop and scrunching up his face at you. Heeseung and Sunghoon eventually sigh, grabbing him by the arms and legs to carry him to bed. 

Both boys return, laughing about something and Heeseung sits down next to you again while Sunghoon leans in the doorway, yawning. “You two can have my room,” he says, cutting his eyes at you. “No funny business though, I just changed my sheets.” 

You chuckle nervously and Heeseung makes a show of hiding his face in the crook of your neck, much to Sunghoon’s visible dismay. He clutches the doorframe so hard you see his knuckles paling and uses his free hand to point a stern finger in your direction. “I mean it,” is the last thing he says before leaving. 

“Sorry,” Heeseung mumbles when the door closes. “It’s just so funny teasing him.” He’s grinning when he lifts his head and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me about your group project.”

A sigh curls out of you, dramatic and loud as you let your head fall back against the couch at the thought of it. You brought it up in passing on Monday after class and spent the rest of the week pretending it didn’t exist. 

“Damn,” he mutters. “That bad?” 

You don’t have many friends in your Archaeology class, but you always look forward to it — because you’re covering Ancient Egypt — and enjoy it. But this morning, you slept in, arriving late, to find your lecturer assigning groups for a project weighing 25% of your final grade. She put the groups together based on where people were sitting, which left you, standing in the doorway fighting for breath, being added to a group of boys you shared a seminar with last term. They never contributed, and rarely showed up, constantly sending messages in the class Whatsapp group to ask if anyone had the tutorial answers. The sinking feeling that your project was doomed before it began plagued you throughout the lecture and all the way to lunch with Yunjin afterwards. Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the story, you tell him in meticulous detail about your time with her that day. Thankfully, you’re sober so don’t admit that you spent a lot of the meal exchanging increasingly ridiculous ideas to get him back. 

Heeseung is just as beautiful and good at listening as always, nodding his head and uhm-ing and ah-ing at all the right parts. Until his gaze changes for a split second into something so soft and so sweet that it leaves a mark on your heart. “I was pissed about it earlier, but now I’m here, with you, and I want you to be my boyfriend again,” you say, jaw hanging open as soon as the words come out. 

His eyes widen, lips parting in shock. Then his brows furrow, pushing a crease into his forehead. 

“I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.” You start running damage control and pray that Jake or Sunghoon will wake up and come back. “I really didn’t mean to say that, especially not now when we haven’t talked about everything. But you looked at me, Heeseung. You really looked at me just now and I can’t pretend I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry, really, but it’s your fault I said that.” 

Mortified, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you say something now?” you ask, mumbling into the heels of your palms. 

All he says is your name and a pit forms in your stomach. “God, anything but that,” you groan. 

Heeseung chuckles, which you think is a good thing. “Would it be better if I called you baby?” 

“In what context?” 

Holding your breath, you watch as he presses his lips together, humming as he tilts his head. “Term of endearment between a girlfriend and her boyfriend.” 

You lift your head, separating your fingers to see him properly through the space and the pit in your stomach dissolves into something live, butterflies fluttering in a frenzy from the look on his face. The gentle curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and the slight flush on his cheeks all make your head spin. 

“Really?”

Heeseung nods so hard his hair follows the movement. “Yes, baby.” 

“Can we kiss now?” 

“Maybe if you move your hands out of the way.”

“I don’t like maybe.”

“Definitely if you move your hands out of the way,” he corrects. 

You can’t bring yourself to move, worried that the sudden motion might disrupt something, might knock you out of the moment. Heeseung laughs, so softly it sounds like an exhale, as he takes your wrists in his hands, tugging gently. With your face in full view, his eyes flit over your features for a beat before he cups your cheek in his hand, dragging his thumb over the soft skin of your lips. 

You don’t even realise he’s leaning in until his lips touch yours. There’s a rush of something in your chest, an intense warmth surrounding your heart. His lips are softer than ever, gentle as he kisses you like you might break—you think you might. Nothing is better than this, better than having Heeseung’s lips on yours after all this time. You lean into him completely, pressing your body impossibly close to his and twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you,” he whispers, barely pulling away. “I love you so much.” 

You can’t bring yourself to reply, emotions too close to the surface, tears too close to spilling. Instead, you smile into the kiss, somehow holding him closer and hoping he’ll understand. He pulls back, just enough to gaze into your eyes with a look of pure affection. He doesn’t press for words, a reassuring smile tugging his lips. 

He understands, Heeseung always understands. 

Sunghoon’s sheets are soft against your skin when you wake up, tickling your nose with the scent of detergent and Heeseung’s shampoo—fresh and light. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers curling around the strands as Heeseung watches you with a soft smile, eyes scanning your features, taking you in. He lets his hand rest on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there and his eyes flick up to meet yours. You feel like a teenager, a giddy smile gracing your lips, giggles tumbling out at the tickly feeling of lovestruck butterflies rumbling in your stomach. Heeseung beams, nuzzling into the touch of your hand as his eyes flutter shut. 

“If we’re going to work out this time—I want us to work out, but we need to talk,” you say after a beat. 

Heeseung’s brows raise like he can’t believe what you’re saying, his lips pushing into a pout. “We are going to work out, of course we’re going to work out.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a deep hoarseness that’s too sexy for the cute way he’s chewing on his lip, doe-eyed and sweet as his eyes scan your face.

“I know, baby, I want that.” You nod, using your hand to push his hair out of his face. It’s so long now it’s starting to cover his eyes, the soft blond strands curling into his eyelashes. “But you have to say no to me, you know? I want you to have a life of your own, we both should.” 

“No.” 

“No?” You press your eyes shut, sighing. “What do you mean, no?” 

“I’m starting now.” 

“I’m serious, Hee, this is serious.” 

He pouts for a second before nodding. “I’m serious too. I can say no to you, I will say no to you.” 

You can’t help your scepticism, raising your brow at him as you inspect his face. There’s nothing about his expression that suggests he’s not being serious, nothing in those huge eyes seeming insincere. But you know Heeseung, you’ve been with Heeseung, and you know better than anyone, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with you, so you have to ask. “So from now on, if I text you when you’re in class or out with friends, and I tell you I want to see you, what are you going to do?” 

Heeseung sighs. “I’m going to text back and say that I’m.. busy.” His lips curl into a frown. “My heart will be super heavy though.” 

“But you’ll do it? You won’t see me until you’re free?” 

“I’ll do it, I won’t leave or anything.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Yeah, baby, I promise.” When you smile at him, Heeseung leans in to seal his promise with a kiss, his lips meeting yours softly. 

You flinch when the door opens and Heeseung chuckles against your lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. Over his head, you see Sunghoon standing in the doorway, hair dripping water on the floor with a towel wrapped around his hips. 

Sunghoon sighs, loud and dramatic, his head falling back. “I specifically said no funny business,” he mutters. “Quit looking at me.” He comes into the room and lifts the duvet over your heads. 

Under the covers, Heeseung pulls away, poking his head out and laughing. “We’re just kissing.”

“Yeah, with your shirt off. Why is your shirt off?”

“She wanted to wear—”

Sunghoon cuts him off with a gasp, pulling the duvet back. “Wait, why are you kissing?”

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” 

The word makes your cheeks burn and you hide your face in Heeseung’s chest. His lips find the top of your head, kissing you as he wraps his arms around you. 

Sunghoon groans at the sight. “I haven’t missed this at all,” he says. “Who else knows?”

“Just you so far.”

You can hear Sunghoon grinning when he drops the duvet back over your heads and shuffles around the room, getting ready for skating. Heeseung calls you cute and holds you closer. “I’ve missed you so much, missed this,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you.”

Dating Heeseung again is better than anything you could have imagined, even if it has only been two weeks. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and even the simple things he does make you smile so hard your face aches. Like when he picks up snacks for you after class or sends you pictures of sweet things he wrote about you in his old diary. Chaewon and Yunjin comment that you seem happier, that you’re glowing, and you can’t help the giggles that always escape and the flush that burns your cheeks when you mention your boyfriend, Heeseung.

Even under the pressure of taking on a group project by yourself, you find yourself fighting a grin in the library just thinking about him. Your class finished an hour ago and you’re doing research in the computer lab while waiting for him so you can go back home together. With a crease in your brow, you try to make sense of conflicting articles on the origin of the Great Pyramid of Giza, happy when your phone lights up with a text. 

hee: we should go on a date tonight !!! how does the fair sound? 

you: sounds good :D 

hee: ❤️

As if sensing that plans have been made without him, Sunghoon sends a message to the group chat asking who wants to go to the Spring Fair in the city centre tonight. 

you: hee and i are alr going :/

sunghoon: awesome i can meet u at hee’s in a few hours?

You really can’t find the heart to tell Sunghoon it’s a date so you decide not to say anything, only feeling worse when Jay replies. 

jay: sounds good :D 

hee: it’s a date dumbass, you’re not invited.

sunghoon: ok.. i can still go

jake: time?

With your date set and whatever else the boys are planning in the group chat, you manage to finish up your work in time for Heeseung to show up with a grin on his face as you pack up your notebook. Excitement stirs in your stomach when he locks his fingers with yours and you’ve never looked forward to the sticky heat of a night in spring as much as you are right now. 

“How was class?” you ask, squeezing his hand. 

Heeseung grins at you, swinging your hands between your bodies as you weave through tables to leave the library. “Turns out I focus really well when you’re not sitting with me.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Mm.” He nods, biting his lip. 

“I can sit with other people if it’ll help you focus.” 

“No!” he whines, loud enough to draw side eyes from the students around you before the tips of his ears burn red and he pulls you out of the library at lightspeed. 

When you reach his flat, Jay’s sitting on the couch grinning at something on his phone, so distracted he doesn’t even realise you’ve arrived until you sit down next to him. He’s got a lot to say about his mock trial and tells you everything, all while you’re cuddled up to Heeseung, with your head on his shoulder. 

You blink and the sun’s gone down, Jay isn’t around anymore and Heeseung’s arms are around your waist, holding you close. “Hey,” he says when you stir. “The boys left already, you just looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you.” 

There’s a wet patch on his sweater where your mouth was that you try to wipe away. It doesn’t budge. And a burning flush attacks your cheeks and neck when Heeseung uses his thumb to wipe some of the drool by your mouth. “So cute.” He chuckles. “Should we get going?” 

You spend the whole journey to the city centre with your hand in Heeseung’s, trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach every time he smiles at you. It’s weird. To have been with him for so long, yet still feel giddy when he looks at you. This is new though, you suppose, to live away from home and see him whenever you want. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder and you can’t help the grin on your face at the thought of spending infinite nights like this, with him. 

The Spring Fair is alive with laughter and squeals of delight that you can hear from around the corner. Winking lights spill onto the pavement in rapid succession, somehow showing the whole spectrum at once. Heeseung is bursting with excitement, running down the street with you in tow, desperately trying to keep up with his stride and regulate your breathing. His eyes are huge when you reach the gates, scanning the area for the churros he’s been talking about for the entire walk and he gasps when he sees the stall, pulling you along with him. You have to weave through the crowd, dipping and dodging tired locals and excited tourists as you call out apologies to everyone Heeseung bumps into. The first night is always packed like this, so full it’s hard to believe the fair runs for six whole weeks. 

You share a heart-shaped churro and pose for the photos he wants to take, your heart swelling with affection as you pretend to be embarrassed when he buys matching character headbands for you both. Two years ago, Heeseung would’ve told you that headbands aren’t a good use of your money and bought them anyway, but today, he spent fifteen minutes trying on and taking photos with each character before finding the perfect pair. You can’t help but grin as he puts the headband on for you, a sense of excitement blooming inside you, so great it’s overwhelming.

Heeseung buys a blue raspberry slushy in an obnoxiously large reusable cup with two straws, and as he clutches his head with each brain freeze, chuckles pour out of you, only increasing when he pouts. 

At every opportunity, the two of you take selfies, and the grin on his face in each one warms your heart. He posts his favourite to his story, showing you all the compliments he’s getting in his DMs, all aimed at you. He seems so proud and excited to be with you, and butterflies go mad in your stomach as he reads some of them out to you, agreeing with and adding to the messages.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I think I might delete the picture,” he says, frowning as the story replies pour in. 

The look on his face makes you laugh, struggling to talk but trying anyway. “But I love it.” 

Heeseung puts his phone away, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I love you,” he says, using his free hand to tip your chin towards him. He grins when you say it back, tracing his thumb along your jaw. An odd stillness hits you, in the midst of vibrant chaos. Flashes of multi-coloured LEDs dance in orange and purple strobes over his face and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are pretty and wide, flicking from your eyes to your mouth a few times as a flame starts to burn in your stomach, low and scorching. 

“I love you,” you repeat, tip-toeing to close the gap. 

You kiss him, slow and sweet to savour the sugary taste on his lips as they move against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and the taste of syrupy artificial fruit, leaving you craving more, craving him. A pop goes out in the air and you flinch in Heeseung’s arms. He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away, looking up. Trails of pink and gold paint the sky above, vibrant sparks spreading everywhere as a few more go off. If you weren’t so busy trying to catch your breath, you might appreciate their beauty, but you are and the next pop only startles you too. 

Heeseung looks down at you, his slightly swollen lips curving into a grin. “How are you so cute?” he coos. “And don’t most people want fireworks to go off when they kiss someone?” 

“It’s probably a sensation thing, Heeseung.” You know it’s a sensation thing. The first time he kissed you, it felt like you were floating on air, as if Sunghoon’s basement, cold and dark, was the most romantic place on Earth. You were sweaty and nervous, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Heeseung while the boys were sleeping. He was the one to lean in and he kissed the tip of your nose by accident.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Come here.” His voice is so deep and raspy that it spurs the flame on, burning higher, hotter, until it’s the only thing you can think about. His hand finds your jaw again, pulling you towards him to kiss you. Of course, you can’t resist; he’s Heeseung. 

The kiss is rife with neediness, whether from you or Heeseung you can’t tell, but you’re tugging at his hair and he’s clutching at your t-shirt, both of you struggling to get enough of the other. You nip at his bottom lip with your teeth and a heady sigh falls from his mouth into yours, brewing a storm in your mind, a thick fog obscuring everything but thoughts of him.

At the sound of a forced throat clearing, you break away from Heeseung, seeing an elderly lady with a steaming cup in her hand and a disgruntled look on her face. She extends an arm, gesturing behind you. When you follow the direction of her hand, you see a bench that you’re standing right in front of. Heeseung grabs your hand, mumbling an apology and tugging you as far away as possible. You struggle to stifle a laugh at the redness of his ears against his hair. 

A huge ride swings and spins into the air, catching your attention, though Heeseung seems to be more interested in the way Jake stands by the entrance with a scowl on his face. Jake waves you over when he sees you, grinning and hugging you both like it’s been years since he saw you. 

“Jay and Hoon are..” he trails off, using his arm to vaguely gesture towards the sky. 

“Man,” Heeseung whispers, pointing a reverent finger to the sky, “R.I.P.” 

Countless fireworks shoot up noisily, painting the dark sky, and Heeseung’s arms fall heavily around your shoulders, his body warm against your back. If not for the way Jake’s flinching next to you, covering his ears with his hands and ducking slightly at the bang of each one, it might feel like the two of you are alone in the moment. Alone despite the chatter, the laughter and squeals. Just you and Heeseung. 

And Jake. 

Heeseung is amazing at fair games, especially the ring toss. But a tired-looking man in a business suit wins the Hello Kitty plush you’d been eyeing for the snotty toddler wrapped around his leg, so you settle for the Kuromi plush instead. Heeseung says it’s cuter. You agree. 

His voice is soft when he asks, “Maybe we can go on the Ferris wheel later?” This is a far cry from the boy of sixteen who fainted at an amusement park just from seeing the drop on the biggest ride there. When you look up at him, his eyes are wide, boring into you, holding the stars in his pupils with a grin across his blue-stained lips, and how could you say no to that face? 

The platform by the Ferris wheel is sticky under your shoes, making you cringe with every step you take towards the front of the line. Heeseung’s grip on your hand is tighter than you think it’s ever been when he realises that you’re next to get on. This might be the most scared you’ve ever seen him, your poor boyfriend with his overpriced Kuromi headband shivering beside you. 

You frown at the sight, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We don’t have to do this, Hee,” you say.

He tries to play it cool, shrugging with a nonchalance that doesn’t match the fear in his eyes. “I want to,” he assures, though his voice lacks conviction. 

“Are you sure?” The way he flinches when the ride operator opens the gate gives you his answer, but Heeseung is firm in his words as he pulls you towards the cart, despite wincing when the operator locks you in. “Baby,” you whisper, touching his cheek. “It’s not too late to get out.” 

In what appears to be a display of his bravery, he makes a show of rocking the carriage — only to be told off by the operator (who can’t be older than sixteen) — and cheering (with no conviction) about nothing in particular. You can’t help but laugh, the cart shaking slightly as you let your head fall back and you only laugh harder when Heeseung gasps because of it. 

He flinches again when the ride starts moving, an unsettling creak sending you forward just enough to allow the next victims — according to Heeseung — to get on the ride. When the last of them board, the wheel sets off in a slow spin and he spends the entire first rotation with his eyes clamped shut, only opening them after a while when he thinks the ride is over. 

The wheel creaks more than what you think is necessary and he only grows more and more outwardly uncomfortable, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and gripping the safety bar above your laps until his knuckles turn white. 

“Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?” you coo, holding your left hand out to him. 

He rolls his eyes but takes your hand in his, holding it between his palms. Seemingly at ease, Heeseung shifts slightly in his seat to close the tiny gap between you, pressing his knee into yours. 

Even in the distance, the fair’s LED lights are beautiful, melting away into flashing bokeh before your eyes as the carriage inches higher and higher. You almost forget your company, leaning over the edge to get a better look, only for Heeseung to put his arm on your arm, mumbling, “Stop it.” 

His skin is warm despite the slight chill that comes with your increasing altitude, and you wish the carriage was smaller—cramped even, forcing the two of you together so tightly that you have no choice but to become one. You sit in the quiet of the night, excitement on the fairground growing quieter as the wheel spins, agonisingly slow, until eventually it’s just the two of you—you and Heeseung: the only people in the moment. 

The only people in the world.

“Why are we even on this thing?” you whisper, squeezing his hand. 

Heeseung shrugs his shoulders as gently as he can manage so as not to rock the carriage. His eyes are big when he looks at you, holding your gaze intently. “I wanted to be romantic.” 

Oh, Heeseung, you think, pressing your lips into a frown. He’s the sweetest person in the world and just the thought of it makes your stomach flutter. “You’re plenty romantic,” you say sincerely. 

He scoffs. “Yeah, because pretending you didn’t exist for a year is romantic.” 

“Yes! Very!” You chuckle, nodding your head. 

Again, he rolls his eyes at you but he uses his hand to hold your face, pulling you in. His kiss tastes like candy floss and the blue raspberry slushy you shared earlier, lips soft, relaxed against your own. Your hand reaches for his thigh, meeting instead with the squished plushy between your bodies and you can’t help but laugh. 

With your presentation out of the way, you and the guys are all sitting in Heeseung and Jay’s living room for the first night of Spring break. You’ve just about reached your limit, cuddling into Heeseung’s side with your eyes closed, sleepily listening to the conversation. It’s unintelligible, more laughter and wheezes than anything else. 

You shift your way into Heeseung’s lap after a while, moving around to get comfortable. It only takes two movements for him to grab you by the waist, holding you still. You try again, and his lips catch the shell of your ear. “Relax, baby. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you admit, moving around again until he sighs, relieved, you think. A wicked grin spreads over your lips when you feel him getting hard, grinding down on him a little and liking the warmth that spreads in your stomach from having him pressed against you. 

“Stop it,” he whispers, kissing the spot behind your ear. 

You heed the warning but can’t help the thoughts filling your mind, though you try to ignore them, laughing at something Sunghoon said about Jake’s ugly hat and shoes. Jake doesn’t find it as funny as the rest of you seem to.

Another hour passes by in the same way before the boys stumble into Jay’s room, calling out a slurred goodnight to you and Heeseung on the couch. You stand up first, holding out a hand for him to take and giggling when he presses a kiss to the back of it. 

In his room, he stares at a spot on the wall as you close the door, a contemplative look on his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, but he doesn’t look at you, only nodding his head with a crease along his brow. 

You kiss him, a featherlight touch of your lips against his. It’s soft for a while, sweet and sincere until he clutches your shirt like his life depends on it. Heeseung’s hands are all over you, stroking and squeezing every part of you he can reach. Overwhelming heat burns your skin under his touch. He inhales sharply through his nose when you reach for his waistband, tugging the drawstring free but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. He keeps kissing you, keeps trying and frowns when you pull away. 

“You don’t want this?” 

He tilts his head, looking down at you with concern flooding his wide eyes. “Do you think we’re going too fast?” His voice is quiet and he chews on his lip after speaking. 

“We’ve been together for six years.” 

“A month,” he corrects, looking at his feet.

As badly as you want him, you don’t want him doing anything he’s not ready for, so you wiggle your arm free from his grip, dropping it at your side. He lifts his head to look at you, brows knitted together, the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “I just don’t want us doing anything you’ll regret.”

“I’m not going to regret this, I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Heeseung,” you say, holding his face in your hands. 

He closes his eyes, nodding. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“Never,” he whispers and the word has you falling to your knees. 

It’s hard to see his exact expression in only the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but you can clearly see the way he’s watching you. The way his eyes are lidded as he chews on his bottom lip, watching you reach for the buckle on his belt. Heeseung threads his fingers through your hair, groaning, and for a few seconds, you’re hypnotised. Too wrapped up in tipsiness and lust to move your fingers, completely focused on the way his breath starts to pick up before you’ve even done anything. You’re starting to think it might be enough for him just to see you like this, on your knees for him, wide-eyed and eager. 

Whether on purpose or not, Heeseung tugs on your hair gently, pulling you from your trance. His blunt fingernails scratch at the back of your head as you undo his belt, tugging his jeans down. He steps out of them as soon as he can, smiling when you toss them behind you. Too worked up to wait, you push your face against him. You take a minute to hold his covered cock between your lips, shuddering at the feeling of the damp spot at the top of it. Heeseung grunts, bucking his hips. He looks like sin when you lock eyes with him, licking a strip to the top of his waistband, sucking and nipping at the skin and coarse hair there. 

“Quit teasing,” he says, still keeping control of his voice. 

You blink up at him sweetly, shaking your head. “I’m not,” you mumble, pulling his underwear down. 

Heeseung’s dick smacks his stomach with a wet sound that makes you clench around nothing, and you sit back on your heels to admire him. Maybe it’s from time, or your unbearable desire, but he looks bigger, thicker, and much prettier than you remember. When you finally drag your eyes from his dick, you notice a mark on his hip, right above where his thigh starts. It’s a smudge of something dark, inky almost. You furrow your brows, licking the pad of your thumb to try and get rid of it. He practically flinches when you touch it, moving away from you. The increased distance between you and the low lighting only further obscures it—when you rub at the mark it doesn’t budge. 

“What is this?” 

“It’s nothing,” he says, sitting down on the bed and covering it with his hand. 

If it was anyone other than Heeseung, you might have thought it was a tattoo, but you can’t make sense of the thought so it slips your mind as soon as it occurs. You reach for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on, losing your breath at the sight of his skin glowing golden in the light, and the tip of his cock is a tempting, glossy red. You can’t help but take him in your hand, stroking him slowly. 

“Tell me, baby.” 

“It’s a bruise,” he manages through a gasp, licking his lips.

Your thumb swipes over his slit and he crumbles. “Heeseung.” 

“Butterfly, it’s a butterfly.” 

A fuzzy warmth starts to bloom in your chest, overwhelming you. “Lay down,” you say, voice as soft as it’s ever been. 

Heeseung obliges, linking his fingers with yours when you move his hand from his thigh. Under the light, you can see it clearly, dark strokes of ink forming a pretty butterfly, tiny, and heart-achingly familiar. 

“Is it..” You trail off, moving your lips around words that you can’t get out as tears sting your eyes. “Did I draw this?” Leaning over him, you get as close as you can, using your finger to trace the shape. 

Sitting up on his elbows, he looks down at you with a worried look on his face as he nods. “Do you hate it?” 

“I love it.. it’s perfect.” You let go of his hand, using the back of your fingers to wipe at your eyes. 

Heeseung sits up, letting his hand cup your cheek and looking at you. He uses his thumb to wipe some of the tears you missed before leaning down and kissing you. His lips move slowly with yours, he’s being gentle, so gentle that you hear your heart thudding in your ears. 

“Come sit,” he mumbles against your mouth, helping you up and guiding you into his lap, a whine falling out of him when you sit on his cock and you mumble an apology that you don’t mean.

“When did.. Why did you..”

His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “My first birthday I spent without you. I just wanted to have something for you.”

You’ve seen it and you’ve heard it from him, but you still can’t make sense of it. “But you’re.. you’re Heeseung. You’d never get a tattoo, you told me that.” 

“I’ll probably never get another tattoo, it hurt like hell,” he says, frowning. 

“You’re such a sweetheart.” You cradle his face in your hands, gazing into his eyes, your sweet Heeseung. So different yet so incredibly similar. “You’re, like, obsessed with me.”

There’s a loud adoration in his eyes that makes your stomach turn. “How could I not be?” His smile is wide even though his lips are smushed a little by the way you’re holding his face. 

Heeseung tilts his chin towards you so you kiss him, the two of you passing moans and whines between your mouths as you grind on him, his hands gripping your waist under your shirt. He shudders under you, rutting his hips against yours with a groan. He’s harder than ever underneath you, his cock hot between your thighs, pressed up against your core in the most maddening way. It can’t be comfortable for him, the friction from your underwear but he seems like he’s enjoying it just as much as you, maybe more, you think, when he starts throbbing. 

Conscious of the boys across the hall, you try your best to be quiet, though Heeseung doesn’t share your concern, his lips parting too wide to keep kissing you and his head falling back as he lets a whine out into the air. His nails dig into your skin, hips speeding up more than you can keep up with as he trembles, clearly so close to the edge that you moan at the sight of him all fucked out in front of you. You chew on your lip, watching his whole face scrunch up before falling to your shoulder, his cum leaking out all over your panties and the tops of your thighs. A grin covers your lips while your pussy aches from the heat of his release and the feeling of his staggered breath hitting your skin. When he finally sits up, sweat slicks the column of his neck and chest, a nervous look in his eyes that he can’t quite bring to meet yours. 

“This is j—” Heeseung cuts you off by covering your mouth with his palm. 

“I remember. You don’t have to say it, baby, I remember.” 

“You were so cute that day,” you say when he moves his hand. Butterflies fill your stomach when you think about it, the first time you ever did anything with each other, with anyone. He was fifteen, with cute round glasses perched on the end of his nose and teeth too big for his mouth, finishing in his jeans with you in his lap.

“You don’t think I’m cute anymore?” he asks, frowning. 

“You’re always cute.”

Heeseung grins at your words, so wide and sweet your heart races. He kisses you gently and slips his hand into your underwear, his finger trailing the length of your pussy slowly, groaning into your mouth at how wet you are. You whine into the kiss when he strokes your clit and gasp when he pushes a finger into you easily. Gradually, he adds more fingers, fucking you open on his knuckles and watching as you fall apart.

His lips move from yours, falling to your neck so he can kiss and suck the sensitive skin there. “You feel so good, baby. My sweet girl,” he mumbles, breath searing your skin. The words make you clench, your stomach fluttering relentlessly as he uses his thumb to press on your clit, the pressure enough to make you spiral. It’s all too much too fast and before long, you’re squirming and mewling in Heeseung’s arms, finishing all over his fingers. 

Immediately, an excruciating flush burns every inch of your body as you hide your face in his neck to catch your breath. His arms wrap around you and he whispers sweet nothings into your hair while stroking your back.

Ever since that night in his room, all your senses feel heightened when Heeseung is around. 

And it doesn’t help that you spend every waking moment with him. Whether in his flat or yours, you’re joined at the hip and it’s near impossible not to pounce on him. In your stomach blooms a heat you haven’t felt in years. An all-consuming flame that makes you hold your breath when he cuddles you; makes you look away when he strips before showering.

He’s taken a liking to shirtlessness, only seeming to remember that the garments exist when he has to leave the house—which isn’t often now that classes have ended. This sudden cotton allergy plagues you, burning the image of his ever-increasing muscle definition and the tattoo on his hip into your memory, so deeply they’re the only things you see when you close your eyes at night. 

Even when Heeseung’s being romantic, cooking dinner for the two of you and almost burning his finger with a match while lighting a candle, you’re thinking about him fucking you. When he goes out with the boys and stumbles into your flat, drunk, with a crushed bouquet in his hands, you’re thinking about what might have happened if you’d gone out too. If he’d finger you in the back of a taxi or take you against the door when you got back. 

Weeks go by like this until you finally reach your limit. 

There’s nothing overtly sexual about the way Heeseung’s sitting. About the way his lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks, or the way his hair sits in a sleepy mess on his forehead. But it’s Heeseung. So these things existing on him drive you crazy. 

Given the lack of privacy in your family homes — by way of an open-door rule when visiting each other — you and Heeseung didn’t have many opportunities to have sex that didn’t involve being tangled around one another in the backseat of his car. And even those occasions were few and far between. 

With the only three brain cells that seem to function around your shirtless boyfriend and your head on the doorjamb, you begin to scheme. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—just a way to get Heeseung to fuck you without you having to bring it up. 

“What’s up, baby?” he asks, finally looking over at you. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, with a raspiness to it that makes your thoughts run wild. From head to toe, his eyes drag over your body, his tongue coming out to run over his lips. 

Clearly, a very delicate, well-timed conversation is in order and the gears in your mind scrape against each other, turning egregiously as you try to figure out how to start the conversation. “I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out. Not the most delicate approach, but the way Heeseung’s eyes widen suggests you might be on the right track. “I didn’t mean to say that,” you admit sheepishly. 

He chuckles deeply in a way you haven’t heard in years. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a challenge in his question, evident from his raised brow, the setting aside of his phone, and the way he sits up straight. The movement forces the duvet to slip a little, falling from above his belly button to his hips in one fell — effortlessly sexy — swoop. 

In spite of this, you can’t help but roll your eyes at him. How could you be standing there, in nothing but his t-shirt, asking him to fuck you and he’s caught up on semantics? “That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“What are you saying?” When you don’t say anything, Heeseung lifts the duvet from his body entirely, grinning when your gaze locks on his hips. His pyjama pants are sitting low enough to show off the waistband of his underwear, and they don’t do anything to hide the way his hard cock pushes against them.

Heeseung towers over you, overwhelming you and the space of the doorframe as his mouth quirks up at one corner. “You want it, baby?” he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face in his hand, using his thumb to trace your lips. 

His face dips down to yours and you can’t resist reaching up to kiss him, whining at the contact as you move your lips in sync with his. The sounds he’s making are dizzying, deep groans you feel in your chest. His hand grips your waist, pulling you as close as possible so you can feel him, hard and thick, pressing against you. 

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing his kiss, but Heeseung only chuckles. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he whispers, looking down at you with those big eyes. 

“I’m not going to beg.” 

He smiles sweetly, a soft curve of his lips summoning butterflies. “Suit yourself,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your neck and leaving the room. 

Flustered, you follow him, flinging your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back. “Okay, I’m going to beg.”

“I’m listening.” 

“I need you,” you mumble into his skin. 

“You have me.” 

Even though his words and the way his lips audibly split into a grin make your heart race, you can’t help your frustration. “Heeseung,” you say, pleading with him. 

He frees himself from your grip, turning around. When you look up at him, he’s watching you closely through lidded eyes, his lips parted in a soft pout that makes your heart melt. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close enough to feel him pressing against you. “I’m all yours, baby. What’s up?”

“Why are you torturing me?”

This makes him smile as he shakes his head. “I’m not.” 

“Please.”

He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm. “Please what?” 

“You know what I need and I can’t go any longer without it,” you mumble into his hand. Heeseung only raises a brow and you sigh. Somehow, your want for him is greater than your embarrassment so you sigh, looking him in the eye. “If you want to, please, please, fuck me, Heeseung. Any way you want, baby, just promise me you’ll do it. I need it, need you.” 

A shit-eating grin takes over his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Was that so hard?” he asks, frowning when you don’t reply. “Don’t get all moody, baby, talk to me.” 

Heeseung picks you up, holding you close as you wrap your legs around his waist. Both of his hands are spread over your ass and you’re too embarrassed to say anything, chewing your lip and staring at the little mole on his forehead. 

“Need me to fuck you ‘til you can talk again?” There’s a roughness to his voice that makes your cheeks flush, but you can’t help but laugh, head falling back in a fit of cackles. 

“What are you talking about?” 

His pretty lips come together in a pout before he speaks. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears burning red as he carries you to his room, using his foot to close the door behind him. “I’m rusty.”

You shake your head before kissing his forehead. “You’re perfect.”

Heeseung sets you down on the bed gently, crawling over you. “I like seeing you in my shirts,” he says, clutching the fabric in his fists, tugging a little. 

“Someone has to wear them.”

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. “What?” He tilts his head, leaning away from you to sit back on his heels. “You don’t like seeing me like this?” 

It’s hard to find a balance between missing his warmth and looking at his body. Staring at the definition that marks his chest and stomach and the way his muscles stick out over his biceps, you can feel yourself leaking at the sight of him. Your eyes catch on his waistband, on the strip of hair that’s cut off by the start of the fabric before falling to the bulge in his pants. 

“You’re looking at me like I’m your next meal,” he mumbles, leaning back over you with a deep flush on his cheeks and neck.

“I think I want you to be.” 

“You think?”

You nod eagerly, anticipation swirling in your stomach. 

“Anything I can do to make you certain?” Heeseung’s voice is thick with something you think could be enough to make you finish. 

“Whatever you want,” you say, desperate. 

He chews on his lip, considering you for a while before kissing your cheek. Once more, he sits up, tugging at your waist. “First, I want this shirt out of my way,” he says with a smile. 

Immediately, you lean off the bed to let him take it off, tossing it behind him. “Anything else?” 

Heeseung’s too busy staring to speak, taking you in hungrily with a jarring combination of lust and adoration behind his eyes. You thought you’d feel shy about him seeing you after so long, but you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life as he reaches down to lock his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You’re so pretty,” he says against your skin. 

There’s no stopping the flutter in your stomach or the smile that spreads over your lips. You tell him you love him and he says it back as he leans back down to kiss you slowly, his tongue licking into your mouth at an agonising pace, a line of saliva connecting you to him when he pulls away. 

“I want to get my head between your legs,” he mumbles, letting his hand dip between your spread thighs. “So wet already?” he asks, dragging your slick up to your clit, rubbing it with a featherlight touch that leaves a whine slipping from your lips. “Will you let me?” 

You nod. 

Heeseung smiles and you match it before he dips his head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there for a minute. His breath and wet mouth are hot, burning a trail down to your collarbone and chest, where he gets distracted, pulling one of your nipples between his lips.

Your stomach twists at the sight of him, his pretty, pouty lips sucking and biting at your sensitive skin, the way he’s moaning against you, using his thick fingers to tug and pinch your other breast. It takes him a while to move on but you don’t complain, even when he presses tickly kisses to your stomach. 

When he reaches your legs, he gets off the bed, kneels on the floor and hooks his arms around your thighs to pull you towards him. You feel exposed when he uses his thumbs to spread you, staring at your pussy with wide eyes, his lips parted a little until his head falls back with a groan. 

“Missed this pussy. Been thinking about it so much, all the time. So beautiful, baby.” He manages to drag his gaze from between your legs to lock eyes with you. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” His lips touch your thighs, kissing the soft skin there, sucking marks into it and biting softly. The sting is subtle but it makes you clench, a movement that isn’t lost on him. “You’re so needy, huh? You want me that bad?” he asks, looking up with a tilted head. 

You mumble the word ‘no’ and shake your head. “Need you.” The words come out of their own accord, nothing more than a desperate whine that makes Heeseung press his eyes shut. You watch as he shifts on the floor, leaning in and giving you the attention you deserve. 

Heeseung’s nose grazes your slit and you gasp at the sudden contact, flinging your head back into the pillows when he licks a strip from there to your clit, giving it a quick peck. 

You card your fingers through his hair, gripping at the strands so hard it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, going slow despite the way you’re trying to rut against his face. He kisses the spot above your clit, his tongue poking out to lick at the skin there, only hitting the bud a few times and the anticipation is enough to make you spiral. 

Time stands still, all concept of it demolished when, finally, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit, running his tongue over it with a pressure that leaves you shaking against the sheets. Moans pour out of you like water from a faucet with nothing but pleasure and Heeseung’s sweet mouth crossing your mind. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s ever going to stop, only coming up for air for a brief moment before sticking a finger into you and attaching his mouth to your clit, burying himself in your wetness. The stretch is minimal, barely registering in the waves of pleasure crashing over you, until he adds a second finger, thick and rigid as he works you open for him. By the time his third finger enters, you have to pull him away by his hair, struggling to find the words to say and settling on a whiny cry of his name.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, face covered in slick that shines on his chin and nose, shoulders rising and falling heavily, but his fingers don’t let up, curling towards your belly button torturously slow.

“Want to cum with you inside.”

Heeseung’s eyes darken and he licks his lips. “Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh, and I don’t want you using a condom either, want you to fill me up.”

“Are you sure?” 

You nod. “I’m still on the pill and you’re the only person I’ve ever been with.”

Heeseung wastes no time standing up from the floor, watching hungrily as you sigh at the emptiness, moving up on the bed. He uses his fist to pump his cock slowly, sighing when he drags his thumb over his tip. A beat passes before he grins, boyish and handsome while crawling over you again. His face softens and his eyes burn into yours as he cups your cheek in his palm. “You sure about this?” 

“I’m sure, Heeseung, you’re all I want,” you whisper, pecking his lips. 

“Me too.” 

He uses his free hand to reach for his cock, rubbing his tip over your clit and chewing on his lip. He lets his cock split your folds, grinding his length against you, rubbing your cunt with a wet sound that fills the room. Heeseung straightens up and you moan when he spits into his palm, stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. You hold your breath, bracing for the stretch and crying out when he pushes in. His head falls forward with a sigh, his hair tickling your forehead.

“I missed you,” he groans when he bottoms out, his thumb running over your lips. A moan slips out of him when you open your mouth, running your thumb over the pad of his finger and sucking on it. “Missed these pretty lips, this pussy. Don’t know how I got on without it.” His words and the feeling of him inside after so long only make you dizzy, knowing that he wanted you like you wanted him. He watches you with parted lips, rocking his hips tenderly against yours. 

“Faster, Hee,” you whisper. “Harder.” 

Heeseung’s brows knit together and he slows to a pace that lets you feel single vein and inch of him as he bottoms out before pulling almost all the way out. “Can you take it?” he asks, a jarring tone to his voice that you think is a challenge. 

You nod desperately. “Please.” 

The word flips a switch for him and he speeds up, thrusting so hard, so deep that your back arches off the bed as his tip nudges your g-spot each time. Just when it all starts to feel too much, Heeseung lifts one of your legs, hitting deeper than he has before and tangling up a knot in your stomach. 

“You’re so good, baby, so good for me.” His eyes are dark and lidded, full of all the love in the world as he gazes into yours, a tangible love that overwhelms you, eating you alive along with his praise.

Sweltering heat stretches through every part of your body at the drag of him inside, the push and pull of his cock along your stuttering walls. It’s enough to make you shiver and a cry of his name rips out of you when he starts rubbing your clit again, pushing the bud in slow circles that make you screw your eyes shut. 

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby, make a mess,” he whispers and that’s as much as you can take. 

Stars flash behind your closed eyes as every single part of your body sets alight, dazed by Heeseung’s whines and the feeling of being full, finally being full, until both ends of the knot tug and tug, leaving you with nothing but a hoarse moan that dies in your throat as your orgasm hits you like a truck. 

A lewd squelch accompanies each of his thrusts as they get sloppier and sloppier, losing their rhythm and intensity. It seems like he’s right there with you though when he collapses on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck and his moans slipping out like music to your ears.

It’s hard not to fall apart under him, but you try your best, dragging your nails over the toned muscles of his back while telling him you love him over and over until he finishes. Both of you are trembling, fighting for breath and whining as Heeseung sloppily fucks you full of his cum. The sound is downright pornographic, loud and wet as your cum mixes with his for the first time in so long. An inexplicable intimacy so thick it hangs in the air, perching on your shoulders as he looks into your eyes. 

Heeseung slows down after a while, stopping completely but not pulling out yet, keeping you full and aching around him. When he catches his breath, he gives you a dreamy smile, thanking you before pressing soft kisses to every part of your face he can reach. 

You whine when he pulls out, missing him as soon as he’s gone. Despite your sensitivity, you want to beg him to come back, to slip back into you and stay forever, though Heeseung has other plans. He sits between your legs, dragging a lazy finger up your slit and watching with a smile as cum leaks out. You squirm against the sheets, pushing your head into the pillow when he uses two fingers to push it back in.

“Wish I could keep you full like this forever,” he mumbles absently, curling his fingers. 

All you can do is sigh happily. Long minutes go by until he takes his fingers out of you, reaching behind him for his shirt to wipe you up before leaning down to your face, mumbling against your lips to come and shower with him.

You’ve never showered with Heeseung before and a voice in your head tells you to press your cheek against the tile and let him have you again, but you’re way too sleepy for that. The warmth of the water and his big hands roaming your body do nothing to help, only forcing your eyes to fall shut as you lean back against Heeseung’s chest, willing yourself to stay awake. 

Once you’re all showered and clean, you only feel sleepier, standing on the plush bath mat in front of the steamed-up mirror. Droplets of water trickle down your skin and you can’t help but revel in the warmth of the room around you. Wrapped snugly in a soft, fluffy towel, you find yourself too tired to follow Heeseung out, slathering some of the expensive moisturiser Jay keeps in the bathroom over your skin. You peer into the mirror, though you don’t see much, and for a moment, it’s just you and the steady trickle of water from the showerhead. The bathroom smells like Heeseung’s minty shower gel and you miss him already, but you take your time anyway, savouring the moment and everything that came before it. 

You find him in his room when you’re done, tucking the last corner of a fitted sheet around his mattress. 

“You want to nap, baby?” he asks when he sees you, holding out a clean shirt for you to wear. 

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head and dropping the towel so he can put the shirt over your head. 

“Let me just fix the pillowcases, yeah?” 

You nod, slumping into his desk chair and watching the muscles in his back shift and flex as he moves around the room, dumping the dirty bedding into his laundry basket and slipping the clean linen over his pillows. He pulls the duvet back and pats the mattress, grinning when you shake your head and make grabby hands in his direction, 

Heeseung stretches his arms above his head and comes over to you but you stop him before he can pick you up. 

“I’m going grocery shopping with Yunjin later and I need a pound for the trolley, do you have any?” you ask through a yawn. 

He scratches his chin, thinking about it. “If I do, they’re in my wallet,” he says, reaching for it on the desk and handing it to you before taking a seat on the end of his bed. 

When you pull on the zipper to open the coin slot, you find a shiny pound coin and a folded piece of lined paper. You leave the coin where it is and hold the paper between two fingers for him to see. “What’s this?” 

Immediately, he hides his face with his hands but you can still see the flush on his ears. You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting, but despite your curiosity, you won’t look at it if he doesn’t want you to. “Sorry, baby,” you say, putting it back. “Forget I asked.” 

Heeseung sighs, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers. “You can look if you want, it’s nothing bad, just mildly humiliating.” 

Nervous anticipation settles over your body and you can’t help but laugh a little, feeling your breath catch in your throat when you unfold the crumpled and creased paper. It’s blank. You arch a curious brow at Heeseung, who, though still slightly embarrassed, gestures for you to turn it over. 

What meets your eyes on the other side leaves you stunned. There, inked in blue with delicate care yet bearing the natural imperfections of a hand-drawn butterfly, was a familiar image. It’s the very same butterfly you drew in your notebook on a spring date with him four years ago. Your fingers tremble as you trace the lines, your heart racing as you remember how he’d torn it from the page, eyes full of appreciation for the simple drawing. 

Tears well up in your eyes when it dawns on you. It’s the very same butterfly he has tattooed on his hip, a permanent reminder of your love that endured separation and time. 

Your voice is weak as you look up at him, quivering with emotion. “You kept it after all these years,” you whisper.

Heeseung smiles, his eyes full of love. “I never let go of what matters to me.” 

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[deathlooksgoodonyou-if]

It was the summer of 2010 when you found Jules Hawkins by the lake. But it didn't look like Jules Hawkins.

After all, how could it? Jules Hawkins was a god. And as you know, gods like Jules are unbreakable. If you knew anyone death couldn't touch, it was Jules. And yet, somehow it felt like you had never seen Jules look more like them than they did, that day, dead by the lake. Plump cherry lips, now parched and blue, dirt on their perfect knees, golden hair sticking to their forehead, exquisite clothes matted and muddied, skin, ghostly pale.

Even in death, even as Jules became a child of soil and dirt and ruin, Jules managed to look like art. How could this creature of beauty be anyone else but Jules Hawkins?

A string of murders follow the passing of Jules Hawkins and in the desperation of avoiding being tangled in the web of this cold blooded murderer, you end up right in the thick of it when you find out the killer may have set their eyes on you next.

Of course, you ended up in the killer's radar. You had always been a child of misfortune, after all.

• Customise your mc. Choose your appearance. Play as male, female, non-binary or trans; straight, gay or bisexual etc.

• Play as an emotionally scarred individual. Escape the hell you call your mind, alone or with the help of allies. Or succumb to the voices.

• Find your predator before your predator finds you. Or keep running. How far will you run? Do you even want to run?

• Befriend, antagonize, manipulate or romance fellow residents of Ravenwoods.

• Heavily character driven.

• The lake calls out to you. Will you listen?

JULIAN/NE "JULES" HAWKINS. [he/him or she/her] [semi ro]

You knew Jules in the way you wish you never did. Jules is embedded into your very bones. Jules is a part of you. You wish you could escape them.

Jules may be no more for the world but they are alive and breathing in your haywire brain and they are not very kind. Not that they ever were. But the Jules that haunts you, plagues you like a disease is ruthless with their words in a way the old Jules could never be. Not to you.

Description : Pale skin. Rosy tint to cheeks. High cheekbones. f!Long wheatish blonde curly hair with bangs. m!shoulder length curly wheatish blonde hair. Almond shaped brown eyes. Arched eyebrows. Long, thick lashes. Bow shaped lips. f!willowy frame. 5'11. m!broad back, narrow waist, long legs. 6'2.

CHAE WARREN. [he/him]

There are few you consider friend and Warren is one of them, alongside Sujin. He is revolution in a glass jar. A little rough around the edges, with bullet holes in his paper heart. Lately, the air becomes laced with awkwardness when its just the two of you around. You wish you weren't fairly perceptive. Perhaps that could have made you oblivious to the way Warren's adams apple bobs and his throat tightens when you are around, the way his fists clench when his tongue slips or the way he glances at you thinking you didn't notice.

Description : Sharp jaw. Medium complexion. Monolid chocolate brown eyes. Straight eyebrows. Thin pinkish lips. 5'7. Athletic figure. Short dyed dark red hair.

JESSICA HAWKINS. [she/her]

Jules' twin. You never bothered to acquaint yourself with her. She had always seemed too saintly and your mother had taught you well to stay away from that kind. Those who hide their tainted souls behind rosemary lies, platinum smiles and bright eyes stitched from sunshine. Beware of them, your mother had told you. But is that what she truly is doing? Spinning honeyed tales from saccharine lips?

You would never know. Unless you choose to. If it helps, Jules lips always quirked upwards and the crease in their brows mellowed whenever her name rolled off their tongue.

Description : Kind almond shaped brown eyes. Long, thick lashes. Bow shaped lips. Arched eyebrows. High cheekbones. Straight blonde hair, reaching her back. Pale skin. Willowy frame. 5'10.

DYLAN JEANE. [he/him]

Jules' boyfriend, Dylan. Well, ex boyfriend now. He seems to harbour a deep dislike for you. No matter how hard he denies it— the slight tensing of the muscles in his jaw always give it away.

You had always been curious about him. Jules and him were an odd pair. How could Dylan be what Jules desired? They were polar opposites. Jules was tidal waves and traditional typhoons. He is ruddy sunsets and roseate dawns. He is habit, he is routine, he is rigid, he is never changing. A sad strange kind of tragedy. Jules was anything but that. Jules was everything at once. Jules was never the same. Jules was uneven. Jules was hurricanes and tsunamis.

There is a natural downwards turn to his lips, his shoulders always a little hunched as if the burdens of life have dripped down from the ceiling and chosen to settle like dust upon his shoulders. You wonder what weighs him down so terribly. He talks as if every breath he takes from his lungs rattles him to the core. Perhaps it does. He seems to have taken Jules' death as hard as you, if not worse.

Description : Short slicked back midnight black hair. Heavy lidded hazel eyes. Slender built. Wears rimless rectangular glasses occassionally. Angular face. Sharp lips. Upwards eyebrows. Fair skin. 6'1.

AIDEN HAMILTON. [he/him]

The second child of the sleazy mayor. Boy of many faces. You don't trust him one ounce. For good reasons. It irks you to watch his eyes glimmer as if you are a specimen that intrigues him. You don't trust the myriad of unhealthy secrets he hides behind his charming gaze, the sly smile that tugs off the corner of his lips or the disarming lilt of voice as his salty tongue rolls off silken threads of honeysuckle lies frictionlessly. It comes to him as naturally as breathing. The impurity of his father's gold taints him, it runs in his veins and he embraces it willfully.

He is hiding skeletons in his closets and everybody knows that. What it is however, is a different story.

Will he let you in on a secret?

Description : Unruly brown wavy hair, in a middle part. Luscious lips, heavy lower lip, a small faint and old scar at the corner of his mouth. S-shaped eyebrows. Sea green hooded eyes. Tanned complexion. V-shaped jaw. Toned build. 6'4.

HEATHER HAMILTON. [she/her]

Eldest child of the mayor. You are not particularly friends but she is not a bad company to have around either. You like her. You have met in passing and she always has a quick smile reserved for you. You know she is a dreamer with a pomegranate heart. She has also somehow inherited her mother's love of parties. Hers tend to be a little more wild and carefree, though. Just like her.

Uncharacteristically, she is also fond of painting. Will you be her muse?

Description : Straight brown hair in a bob cut. Hooded brown eyes. Heart shaped lips. Soft arch eyebrows. Skinny frame. Tanned complexion. Dimples on both cheeks. 5'7.

MIA MORGAN. [she/her]

Mia Morgan is the kind of girl who will rip your heart out, eat it raw and call it love. With midnight eyes of catlike grace that could rival any godforsaken abyss and lips richer and darker than the blood running in your veins, she's the kind of girl that would skin you alive and chew on your fickle heart but then kiss your eyelids and tell you 'good night, baby' and you would like a lovesick dog spiral back to her, yearning for more.

Why? Because you are a fool? No. Because she was Mia Morgan and Mia Morgan was born for seduction and playing with the strings of childish hearts. A holy ruination. Destruction in its most, enchanting, enrapturing form.

Will you let her destroy you?

Description : Wispy bangs, short hush cut, black hair. Dark cat eyes. Beauty mark on upper lip. Soft jaw. Chubby cheeks. Crimson pouty lips. Fair complexion. Curvaceous figure. 5'2.

KIM SUJIN. [she/her]

She considers you a close friend, sharing every secret with you.

Description : Bronze skin, wide set brown eyes with gold flecks, button nose, freckles, curtain bangs, medium length chestnut brown hair. 5'3.

ARTHUR MORRIS. [he/him]

Aiden's friend. He's an asshole.

Description : Mahogany complexion, hollowed cheeks, has a stubble, ebony eyes, buzzcut, brawny. 6'1.

PARIS HILL. [he/him]

Local heartthrob. He looks handsome till he opens his mouth.

Description : Sunkissed complexion, wide lips, honey brown eyes, blonde hair in a fringe. Buff arms and broad back. Has an unhealthy obsession with shades. 5'10.

AUNT AUBURN MACKENZIE. [she/her]

She loves you dearly. There is nothing she wouldn't do for you.

Description : Brown hair, generally tied in a loose bun. Wrinkles near eyes and smiling lines around her mouth. Thin lips. Stout and a little hunched frame. Brown complexion. 5'1.

MOTHER. [she/her]

A woman with a twisted understanding of love. You haven't seen her in years and while you may have forgotten her face, her voice still rings crystal clear in your mind, like an old cassette on repeat.

FATHER. [he/him]

A man you knew but never quite understood. It is his face that stares back at you everytime you look in the mirror.

MAYOR JOHN HAMILTON. [he/him]

The mayor of Ravenwoods. It would serve you well to have him as an ally. Having strong connections has always proved to be useful.

Description : Beige skin. Hooked nose. Green eyes. Bushy brows. Short hair, close cropped. Smooth blonde hair. Plump frame. 5'8.

MEERA CHAUHAN HAMILTON. [she/her]

Wife of the mayor. She may be a little snobby but she means well. Most of the times. After all, who isn't a little selfish?

Description : Tanned complexion. Almond brown gold eyes. Brown hair wavy reaching her mid back. Slender frame. 5'10.

LAWRENCE HAWKINS. [he/him]

Father of the Hawkins siblings. You would rather not get involved with him.

Description : Pale skin. Blonde slicked back hair. Blue eyes. High cheek bones. Sharp jaw. Wears frameless rectangular glasses. 5'11.

AURORA HAWKINS. [she/her]

Mother of the Hawkins siblings. You would rather not get involved with her.

Description : Blonde hair, generally tied in a tight bun. Pale skin. Brown eyes. 5'9.

OFFICER RYAN DOUGLAS. [he/him]

He's a good man. He tries his best.

Description : Rosy complexion. Dark brown eyes. Short brown hair. Average build. 5'8.

DEMO. (DECEMBER OR SOONER!)

COG FORUM. (DECEMBER OR SOONER!)

EXCLUSIVE CONTENT. (TBD!)

FAQ.

> Rated 18+ for mature themes such as (heavy spoilers ahead!) explicit language, sexual themes, questionable behaviour, toxic relationships, murder, elitism, child abuse, domestic violence, insomnia, toxic relationships, manipulation, transphobia, racism, internalised transphobia and homophobia, death, childhood trauma, mild nudity, feelings of being watched, stalking, infidelity, hallucinations.

Reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for your interest! <3

[swaqcenix]

The Devil was an Angel First | N. Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff x fem!stripper reader

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Summary: It was a risk and a job worth taking, simply use your ability to seduce to earn enough money to get you your university degree. Yet you didn't anticipate the owner of the strip-club to take a significant interest in you, but what can she do? As soon as Natasha saw you, you were hers.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x!fem stripper reader, employee x boss, forbidden romance

Warnings: 18+, slight dark!natasha romanoff, manipulation, strip-teasing, lap-dancing, pole-dancing, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (n to r), mommy kink, strap-on, choking,degrading, over-stimulation, handcuffs and toys, reader is easily manipulated!

Word Count: 9K

AN: This is heavily inspired by the song Pray by Xana, you could listen to it while reading this to get an extra bit of the atmosphere ;)) Also I wil be taking small requests or drabbles for this specific fic/pairing as I'm secretly addicted to this concept.. (not so secretly.)

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Slipping amongst the crowds, your eyes dart around the room as the sounds of the club itself echo through your body. The lighting was illuminating each corner of the room, but stopping in certain bleak shadow's contrasting well with those who put on a performance.

The smell of slick sweat and hot bodies mingling through the room made your nose twitch through instinct and it was around this time your mind was wondering whether this was the right call.

University had been always your major goal in life, pass through High-school get your qualifications and your grades, just don't fuck up. For most of your life you'd remained hidden in the shadows, contempt to live life remaining hidden away while the flashlight of beams hit the sky's ground touching everything but yourself.

Yet apparently life deemed it not apparent that this was the case for you. Instead when your family collided into debuts and the household becoming a simply standing memory of what once was and never could be's you knew the longing for snatching your degree's up in higher education was slipping like fog and air through your fingers.

Would that be a common knowledge concept and reality to turn towards darker paths? Well, darker in regards to your family's eye-line anyway. You simply saw it as an opportunity for people who enjoyed doing things their own way, their own style and didn't wish to follow into the lights of the sky like others we're unique.

Your family wouldn't be appreciating your actions but it didn't matter. It realistically couldn't no matter how much they perhaps frowned at the idea. You could perhaps go into depth of how it wasn't selling your body but allowing it to be seen, allowing others to get a taste of the salt and the the aroma of flavours their hearts desire, but never fully satisfied.

Pole-Dancing wasn't something you'd be opposed to doing by any means. Watching the way they drift through the air, holding onto the bar with such pristine confidence and high agility hit your stomach in all the right ways. Nimble and soft fingers holding onto the pole with such grace their body's dancing into the fire of the night, other's moving with grace and affirmation.

The men and women watching their every action their every step with such a wide eye their lustful thoughts screaming with such a power your own ears rang. Black stiletto's clinging to the poles with a strength that made you doubt your own abilities despite having the darkest of secrets lingering on thoughts.

Quiet girls always tend to have the deepest of desires, the fieriest of personality. The set determination on being quiet, being forgotten and not wanting to be seen always portrays just how difficult life could dance around in a sea of wonder and mystery.

The air smelt so much of blood sweat and tears, the smoke driving the fuel into everyone's body, an ignition lighting up. You turned towards the bar deciding to opt on a drink, probably a hardcore whiskey if you wanted to get through this alive and sane, the burning feeling would ground you heavily to reality.

Turning on your heels, your contrasting deep-blood heels clacked heavily on the floor, treading with a walk that helped you do the one thing you'd avoided doing. Being seen.

Eyes watched, heads tilted and words of whisper drifted across the room as you brought the attention away from the other worker's sensing some hard glares and other longing looks. It was no secret you had the looks, it was just never in your cards, not your line of sight, but the devil didn't always play with fire until pushed within the flames.

"Whiskey neat please," your voice was firm and held no conversation for an argument.

The barman glanced at you and you simply watched as his eyes glanced at you, looking you up and down. You could practically feel the budge in his pants grow from here and the self-refraining you were doing from rolling your eyes was repulsing.

You weren't about to start off your first time in this place by pissing off the men you could encounter more often in telling them you not into indulging in their acts. Explaining to men who couldn't understand the word no when it comes to simply not being interested in them was not a path you cared to go down for the time being, instead settling on biting your tongue.

Sure, it didn't mean you couldn't make some impressions around here though. You'd already made a rather splendid entrance by sauntering around capturing lingering eyes of the men and women which allowed your red tinted lips to tilt upwards.

The barman worked nimbly, his hands being heavy but not without meaning as he flipped bottles around like he was performing an act. Normally this would entice most women to jump for joy and use some ogle eyes towards him. However, you were in fact not most women, you simply walked through the world of shadows until you decided to finally allow the light to kiss your skin in all the right areas.

He slowly slid the drink down to you as you tossed him the dollar bills owed and sauntered off in means to find the owner of this establishment. The music moved above you like puppet's on a string as you did your best to try and move through the blinding strobe lights and bodies mingling into one.

Guessing that the owner would find you before you found them, your body decided to make it's way over to a table waiting for them to arrive with introductions, you crossed your legs simply playing with the bottom of the whiskey glass, swirling it around for play as you chucked it down your throat.

The feeling of the burn hit you instantly and you squinted for a moment before a heavy sigh escaped the opening of your lips leaning back in the chair once again becoming one with the shadows. Besides the demons in everyone else's heads seemed to be having their own rituals one of which you weren't enticed on indulging in such acts.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you. Doing well to not attract attention you glanced through your glass trying to picture who was approaching and a flash of red curls took through the reflection.

Your lips tilted upwards in a mischievous smirk as you leaned back in your seat, a feeling of excitement coursing through your veins. Your mind wandered as you presumed the mystery woman was approaching ready to allure you into sinful acts of seduction and dance through desire into the night.

Instead, what was not predicted was the black stiletto heels coming to a stand still right behind your table, a hot and heavy breath lingering in your ear. Your body tensed and you felt the smirk dripping from the woman behind you as you tilted your head turning around to be met with someone who should be the devil in disguise, one to lure you entirely out of the shadows and touch the fires to ignite you entirely.

"You must be Y/N. Y/LN. I am Natasha Romanoff, Miss Romanoff to you. Owner of Desiring ignition. I will interview you in the back rooms if you don't mind?" her voice asking a question but orders slipping from the sinful tongue.

Your body moved before your lips did and you found yourself following after the redhead like an obedient dog, for a minute forgetting yourself entirely and not thinking, just acting like a string was tugging you along.

Her red hair was distinctive even against the darkened tone of the room, the lights dimming in and out didn't affect it as it shone like fire and ash, the devil reincarnated you knew. Her hips swayed with an intent to drive a man wild but in a way she didn't wish for any of them, simply alluding to her own intoxicating beauty, poison and toxic.

The eyes followed you both and you scampered after her down a neon-purple hallway, the colour's almost blinding you within a trance. Finding your bearings you knew you'd need to pull yourself together if you wanted this job so decided to play in the same game, the same chess board. Play with the devil.

Her hands clasped tightly around the handle as Miss Romanoff lead you into what you presumed to be her office before shutting the door behind her. The noise seemed to almost be drowned out now, as though she'd installed noise cancellation into her office.

Your eyes scanned the room trying to analyse and get anything you could on this woman. You'd always liked to get to know someone through their surroundings and what that said person associates themselves with, especially if it works in your favour.

The office itself was dimly lit but well cleaned and decorated minimally. To your left there was a desk, mahogany coloured with 2 chairs on ether side, the desk holding files that your eyes couldn't capture from the distance you stood. A solemn picture held itself strongly on the desk of what you could make out to be a younger blonde woman, perhaps the same age as you or a couple years older.

The redhead nodded her head towards the chair on the other side of her desk, before sitting down on a black leather one herself. Even sat down in the dimly lit office you could tell she was a woman of business, not one to be meddled with nor to cross without paying the price which for yourself was bad given your track record of loving to stir the pot.

Her eyes lingered over your own for a while examining you, looking you up and down in a way your body almost jolted at the sheer intensity of her gaze. Not wanting to keep the older woman wanting any longer, your feet moved on the own accord sitting down on the chair opposite of her. Her posture was still up straight, impossibly held and elegant opposite of your own.

"So," she began by looking through your files as though you'd be arrested under a warrant issued for the most wanted criminal.

"You've got good grades from schools, a track record of not seeming to show herself within public eye and even held debates and meetings within clubs. Your jobs previously consist of coffee shops and waiting so what exactly is it you have to offer here," she stated her voice was laced with disdain and annoyance.

"Well that's correct yes, but I have goals in life and things I need to achieve. I can't get there without doing this first, trust me it's a last resort," you replied cringing inwardly at your response.

It was a stupid mistake you'd created by saying this job was a last resort. That would be the last thing this goddess of a pain was waiting to hear, especially when wanting to employ you. You'd fucked up royally but like she stated, you had a tendency for debate clubs and there was nothing better you were good at than worming you way into or out of situations.

Her eyebrows shot upwards at your response and you watched with fear as the redhead perused her lips together eyeing you once again with a look of utter irritation.

"So you see us as a last resort?" She asked stiffly.

"No, nothing like that-" you tried to reason but her hand waved in the air dismissing your comment before you'd began.

"Y/L/N. Do you know how many people come here asking for jobs hm?" Her head titled to the side lips twitching while watching you squirm.

"No..."

"Over 200. How many do you reckon we employ exactly?"

The venom and toxic poison in her voice almost sent you spiralling you couldn't help but feel entirely hooked on it. Yet the feeling in your mind told you to run, leave before you headed down the road of embarrassment and utter danger.

"I'm not sure, Miss Romanoff," you voice was surprisingly even for someone being scolded in a private office room.

"The answer is 4% out of those 200 get employed. Yet, a silly girl like you walks along struts in like she owns the fucking place and says it's a last resort," she taps her finger on the side of her face mockingly.

"No.. I can dance and I'm incredibly talented on a pole," you tried to reason but she once again shushed you in a dismissive tone.

"You're dismissed off you go," she shooed you off and your legs stood by themselves your mind no longer in control of your body.

As your body walked towards the door head daring not to look back your hands went towards the door handle, before lingering on the metal for a moment. Your mind danced away thinking of thoughts and how you couldn't give up so easily. You came in this bar, this strip-club looking for a job and you'd be damned to go without one. Sure the woman behind you was a stole cold bitch, but she came with fire. You had the gasoline to set this place alight.

Turning on your heels, you faced the older woman who went from looking down at her files with disinterest to whipping her head up. Miss Romanoff tilted her head to the side as you approached with a surge of confidence that you didn't know you had running through your veins setting your blood alight. Your body leaning over her desk you smirked as she watched and you could sense her tense beneath you.

"Let me show you what I can do," your voice was whispered with sultry and laced with such confidence that was missing moments ago.

The redhead thought for a moment, her lips twitching ever so slightly at the sides before tilting up. She removed herself from her chair carrying her composure elegantly as ever before entering your personal space.

"Be my guest, show me what you can do," she smirked.

Before you could even blink, Miss Romanoff snatched your hand and lead you out of her office towards one of the unoccupied rooms. The sparks you felt when her hand clasped your hand and rising towards your wrist jolted your stomach giving you somersault's.

She on the other hand, snatched her hand away as quickly as she took it and you weren't sure why that caused such a sting within you. The older woman wasn't required to touch you in any way, but her response was as though she'd been burnt in opposition to your own body's reaction wanting to feel her touch ignite you more.

Suddenly the vast realisation of reality crashed down on you and your stomach churned in thought. Your mindset couldn't be thinking this type of way in any shape or form towards someone who could perhaps be your boss. This wasn't about to become some cliche film style where you fuck your boss, you couldn't give her that style of power.

Yet, as you let your mind indulge further in thoughts, she wasn't your boss. Not yet and not now, besides if you wanted this job a thirst to prove yourself to the flames of hell as she was, you were going to have to join the game.

Heading further down the hall, Natasha stopped at the door to her left and you titled your head in anticipation. The feeling of not knowing what you could possibly find was always thrilling yet had an edge of dread that filled your lungs and ran through your veins.

Observing her silently, you watched the redhead slip out a singular key from her pocket before slipping it with ease into the lock and turning it. Her hand which you tried definitely too hard to not focus on wrapped around the handle turning it before standing to the side awaiting you to head inside.

Silently entering the room, you found yourself coming to a sudden halt at the sight that stood before you. A singular pole stood in the middle of the room, tall and with a bolden look about it almost calling to you begging you to dance upon it. Towards the corner of the room lay what you predicted to be a lot of BDSM toys ranging from handcuffs and blindfolds to nipple clamps and leg spreaders.

Your cheeks flushed heavily at the sight as heat ran through your body and you found yourself turning away from the toys, eyes instead landing on a chaise lounge. The furniture was a deep red, crimson in fact darkened like the blood flushing heavily through your veins, perhaps darker than Ms Romanoff's hair. Turning your head in her direction you realised she'd been watching your reaction as you absorbed and gawked at the room, causing you to flush even further.

The older woman simply smirked at you before making her way over to the chaise lounge, looking you up and down in what you originally thought was a judgmental look now seemed otherwise, before sitting with determination down onto the chair.

For a moment it was silence as she only stared at you examining you for a mere moments that felt like hours before rolling her eyes and scoffing. Her hand raised upwards as her index finger- that looked incredible you might add- came out and directed at the pole giving you a pointed look. Realisation hit your face and you realised what the redhead was asking of you, which caused all sorts of emotions to run through your head.

She was asking you to to give a full example of how you'd dance within her club, within her line of work and show yourself. Normally this wouldn't be a bother as you'd come to a damn strip-club for god sake, but it was the idea of dancing alone with her that sent your nerves spiralling and your body shaking beneath you.

Still, there was no point in arguments, you'd been the one to suggest showing her, but in hopes of a more lively atmosphere. Instead Miss. Romanoff had lead you to a secluded room one of which held what you predicted secrets hiding within the 4 walls for you to dance in.

Sucking in a tight breath you closed your eyes tightly shut counting to 3 before opening them once more. Getting your bearings around you, you strutted to the pole making sure to remove the jacket that clung tightly to your skin hugging you in all the right places. The jacket was placed to the side of Natasha and you tried not to smirk too much at the feeling of her eyes travelling over your form.

Her body stood up, walking over to a speaker in the corner causing you body to tense up slightly. If it was too loud it was sure to cause an uproar of attention that in this current moment you didn't want. Your mind was too focused on earning the approval and the full attention of the redhead selfishly to yourself despite wishing that you didn't indulge in such sinful acts.

You removed your pants, leaving yourself in only your polo shirt and underwear, trying your best not to make any sort of contact with her. You could have done pole-dancing in your pants but it wasn't a risk worth taking if you didn't want any slip ups and needed the grip. Instead you walked over to the pole closing your eyes tightly before opening them and glancing over at Miss Romanoff.

Her head was tilted to the side and you were almost convinced her eyes that you noticed earlier were the shade of emerald green like the piercing ground of earth were almost charcoal now, luring you into the mist of hazing sinful creatures and touching the igniting flame. Instead of contemplating thoughts any longer you let out a mere nod towards the older woman and she smirked turning on a song that widened your eyes as, girls girls girls by FLETCHER began to echo through the room.

Trying to once again ignore the intriguing implications behind the song you stepped forward flexing your hand back and forth continuously before gripping onto the pole tightly with your left hand. Your fingers curled instinctively around the metal bar and you cleared your mind. One of the first things you'd learnt about dancing and when understanding how to use the effective ways of pole-dancing was don't think just act.

You let your mind carry through the music eliciting the illusions of thoughts and song's as your body carried you through. You started off smoothly, swinging your way seductively around the pole keeping your outside leg straight before pivoting your inside foot at the same time.

Your mind carried through song as the beat's began to pick up, your outside foot worked through muscle memory hooking around the pole before your other joined gripping tightly.

As soon as you felt your body securely fitted on the pole your hips moved in ways of wonder as though art itself couldn't touch through paintings of masterpieces. Your back arched and your hip swayed in beat swinging yourself around the pole before your body flipped itself in ways of wonder, dancing and spinning with everything it had.

The song slowly began to draw to a close and it was then your eyes chose to linger from being shut as you made your distinctive signature move, swinging yourself around with a grace you didn't know was within you. Your body swung from the top to the bottom of the pole in the most seductive way possible as your fingers crossed over, before your eyes drifted to the red head.

It took everything within you not to let out a shit-eating grin when you noticed the gawking from Miss Romanoff who looked like she was ready to eat you up whole. Given any other circumstances you would have flushed or felt self-conscious, but instead you embraced the feeling of confidence as you gently slithered off the pole a laugh almost sliding past your lips.

You sauntered over to the older woman, teasing leaning over her body to grab your jacket only to be yanked down onto the couch. You felt the blood run course through your body you heart pounding so loudly you'd not be surprised if she could hear it herself. The room came to a heated silence, the tension thick and easily cut with a knife. Natasha's hand came up to cup your jaw tilting it to the side almost as though she wanted to judge that part of you too, or better yet distract herself from what she was initially going to do.

"Tomorrow, 8:30pm your shift will begin. I recommend not arriving late, or better yet arrive earlier to prepare yourself. You work hours will differ but tomorrow you'll be finishing at 3:30am. Understand sweetheart?" Her voice husked out and you were almost putty in her hands once more.

Your head nodded unconsciously, the primal instinct in you roaring to obey your now boss's instructions. The feeling of disgust ran through your body at the realisation of what you'd just performed despite it being your job area now. It wasn't the fact you'd pole-danced it was the secluded room and the song that made your body squirm.

The redhead seemed to thrive in amusement on that power and you weren't sure whether the heat that ran to your core was feelings you wished you didn't have or anger that turned into the feeling of lust, perhaps both. Her hand tightened on your chip ever so slightly to the point you thought her nails may cause intends within your skin, marking like a hot poker within it.

"Oh no, none of that. You use words to me okay? So do you understand dorogaya?" her tone showed no time from you for disagreement.

"Yes, I understand Miss. Romanoff," your voice was strong and assertive despite inside your body was a mess of sweat and utter chaos.

Natasha leaned back, stretching her arms across the couch staring at you for a moment before taking her lip between her teeth, clamping down hard. The sight was enough to send a hot gush of wetness between your legs and your mind screamed at you in retaliation, she was your boss. Her teeth gently let her lips go with a pop before standing up and walking up to the door, swinging it open with ease staring back at you with an expected look.

"Good girl," she whispered out her lips tilting up dangerously as your fixed your tousled hair that had become slightly damaged from dancing.

Your body reacted once more to the words almost jolting in response, but you did well to keep yourself refrained and intact. Instead you simply grabbed your belongings nodding towards the woman and headed straight for the main exit. Perhaps the acts you were prepared to partake in was deemed as sinful and immoral, you wouldn't give so much as a glance if they were. It felt like the devil was standing their glaring into your soul and you didn't care for anything else other than entering the gates and feeling the flames wrap around your body.

The next evening went as smooth as it could, the blasting of the music as your body danced in between of time to the tunes. Your personal favourite was the one's that went sensual before picking pace as it allowed you to do your signature moved before flaunting around people in a seductive manner. You'd thrived on how the men and women gawked at your, eyes popping out of their heads, drooling from the mouth like you were a treat they had to have.

Fellow colleague's had taken up on asking advice, specifically your new favourite Wanda who you added on further inspection was quite a looker. The way she'd bounce her brunette curls around her face as she danced into the night like nobody was watching always had you admiring her.

She herself had wanted tips from you, always seemingly interested by your dancing to the way you move on a pole, her eyes always lingering in sheer awe and amazement as though you personally had placed each star drifting through the sky. Yet, you always felt another pair of eyes, heavy and dark lingering in the shadows.

It was the type of shadow you'd spent your whole life hiding within but this aspect was dangerous. It felt cold mixed with fire alike, bonding in ways it shouldn't mix. The soul being ice and chilled to the bone with fire in the centre waiting to burn itself from the ground up. You constantly sensed the lingering eyes on your body but chose to ignore it, for you knew the consequences of the danger, you knew who those eyes belonged to you just couldn't face them to admit it.

It continued for the next week until Saturday came faster than anticipated. Your legs carried you through the building with ease and a sense of calm now almost as though you'd been there for years. In reality you'd become rather content with the building of Desiring ignition. You'd scarcely interacted with Natasha though, (thank god.)

It wasn't the exact concept of fearing the woman, no it wasn't that. It was the way she made you feel. It was like feeling towards the devil, it's forbidden you see red with anger, lust the picture painted of danger and intoxicating aroma.

You'd done well in avoiding the older woman but she did appear to be making it easer than anticipated, despite knowing the one hiding in the shadows, lingering not wishing to be seen but knowing you felt her presence seemed to enough for the older woman.

You had settled on something different this time, usually not opting for dresses preferring to dress loose but certainly stylish all the same. However this time, you'd decided to rock the boat and you weren't sure why.

Instead you'd settled on a deep emerald green, darkened than usual but curved around your body clinging in all the right ways. The anticipation and adrenaline of the reactions you'd receive left your mind racing, despite not wanting to show anything off entirely. Definitely not for her..

Directing yourself towards the bar, you walked over greeting who you'd now become accustomed to know as Bucky. He actually was opposing to what you expected after your encounter on the first night, he was just hesitant of newcomers. Instead now you'd become close to the man always offering a term of greeting.

"Same as usual?" He questioned winking as you both knew it was wrong to drink on the job.

Albeit it was hardly your fault, when it came to this job and work environment you'd hardly be faulted for having the odd drink to get by. Most days we're enjoyable, the women ogling over you and many wanting to touch what their desired hearts couldn't reach, like seeing a pebble in the ocean before the sea carries it out, perfectly sculpted but not yours to own.

Your lips curved up into a smirk filled with fire and mischief, the look of mystery plastered all over your face. Not a word spoken, your head nodded into his direction and Bucky nodded once in return. His body moved swiftly, preparing a small yet rather what the average person would deem an intoxicating strong drink for yourself as he slid it over.

Taking your drink you sipped away at it as you made your way onto the floor, seemingly into the sea of people. It was busy & you only knew it was going to get busier. Besides; you had an hour to kill before even remotely starting your shift so you might as well busy yourself.

It started simple, sitting down mingling with guests, eyeing up who was necessarily your desire for the night. All you needed was the money, even with the weighing guilt that sometimes poured over your head you needed to make your way into the world.

God only knows how you'd found yourself onto the dance floor, one moment you were sipping on your drink waiting for the beginning of your shift the next you were dragged onto the dance floor by a taller and seemingly older brunette. Her hands were dragging across your waist causing your face to flush.

Were you sure you were entirely within protocols here? Not at all, yet there was no rules you couldn't dance with the paying guests before your own night began. Though you were indeed certain Miss. Romanoff may cause some issues with this.

Alcohol wasn't even the reason for your confidence, it felt like something was drawing you to push boundaries that night to tempt yourself into desired that you shouldn't cross. You could say you don't bring your guests into the bedsheets like you do your demons but as the brunette's hands grazed across your stomach for a moment you short circuited.

You found your head tilting an angle towards Bucky's direction who was eyeing you with a concerned expression painted upon his face. His frown that narrowed through his forehead, eyes giving a dangerous tone, almost trying to warn you.

Still, you shrugged it off instead allowing the touch of another burn your skin though whether it was a burn of desire or the burn of hell you weren't sure. You were playing with the fires of lucifer here & partially enjoying yourself. Lips grazed slightly over your neck, almost allowing you to loose yourself instantly without a sudden care or thought.

People were silencing around you within beats of the music, like a chill had passed down from a frost bite. They were parting like royalty had arrived themselves, but you were completely unaware in your own mindset in your own thoughts.

Lips grazed your neck sloppily, yet it burnt like an ignition hell fire in your skin. Yet your mind was dancing somewhere else or better yet, someone else. It was like someone snapped a finger, as within a second like you'd blinked an eye and the warmth from behind you disappeared.

Widening your eyes, you opened them but a hand snatched you spinning you straight into a body. You stumbled forward legs like jelly, hands still shaking with adrenaline as their perfume invaded your senses. It was a sexy perfume smell no doubt, the aroma making it's way into your nose poisoning you. You'd almost breathed in, wanting more of the intoxicating taste of it, yet that wouldn't be ve-

Shit. Shit, shit shit.

If your suspicions were correct, which you were highly convinced they were then the perfume and the person you'd been dragged into was someone you dreaded finding you in that compromising position. A whisper drew you from the dread in the pit of your stomach and your stressing mindset as they leaned towards you.

"Enjoying yourself darling?" The voice carried the familiar edge you dreaded.

The feeling of bile rose in your throat from sheer anxiety and you gulped hard to keep yourself at bay. Slowly looking up, your eyes met the all too familiar green ones.. One's you could get lost in and fantasise about consi-

No, not to be thought of right now.

Her eyebrows were arched consistently and the familiar look of a stern facial expression was painted on your Boss's, Miss. Romanoff's face. Her lips were painted a blood deep red and the blush on her cheeks were making your legs like jelly, let alone your stomach's feeling of somersaults.

"I..." Stuttering voices was all you could muster right now.

A swift finger placed on your lips was all it took for your cheeks to hear up and you were certainly an embarrassing jumble of mess in front of her and everyone around you.

"Shh," her voice carried an authoritative tone but you were almost certain you could sense a lace of.. jealousy?

Surely that was an impossibility; she had nothing to be jealous about besides she was your boss, albeit a damn sexy one. Reality hitting back to you slowly you sensed the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and wanted in that moment for the ground to swallow you whole.

Gone was that confident attitude you easily found yourself mustering up to her, instead replaced with a timid jealous woman wanting nothing more but to run for your life. Your eyes didn't dare leave hers despite their sea of pure intensity and fire, though you didn't think you were capable of looking away even if you tried to.

A quick flick of her hand could be seen from your peripheral vision and as if someone had press play on a remote, the crowds resumed. Colleagues danced on laps, poles and bar stools while the noise resumed like they'd been frozen in time.

Before you even had the chance to speak, you were spun back around rather forcefully. However rather than letting you go, her hands yanked you flush against her chest, allowing you to feel her radiant body heat and the heat to come back to your cheeks once more.

Hands roamed over your body while her lips moved to your ear, a sultry almost lustful voice following suite.

"Well well, what was that little stunt hm? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for private shows not giving a full on public display of borderline sex," she snapped though her hands still cupped your hips.

"I.. I can explain..."

Her hands cupped your clothed cunt causing you to cut your sentence off and gasp out. Embarrassingly, your body jerked forward into her hand showing how putty you were, easily giving into your boss.

"No, no I don't think so. You wanted a public stunt like that hm? Who's breasts are these?"

Her hand moved up to cup them, needing them through your dress causing you to almost cry out. You couldn't lie, you were grateful for the atmosphere being so loud and disoriented otherwise you'd have cried out from sheer embarrassment.

"M-Mine," you whispered through a half gasp earning you to feel her knee rub you subtly once more in your lower region.

"Wrong answer, don't get it wrong again hm?" She said through semi-gritted teeth and your body melted back into her.

Unsure of the adrenaline you had coursing through your veins you spun around and found some form of confidence in you to cup her own lower region.

"Yours," you whisper-shouted back due to the strength of the music, though your voice partially wavered.

It was obvious she was caught off guard through the sheer surprise that danced like the force of nature the wind dancing with the trees on a stormy night. Miss.Romanoff's lips tilted upwards into a smirk and without a word or a warning her hand clasped onto yours and you were being pulled swiftly down corridors.

Everything seemed to pass you buy in a blur as you had no recollection of one door to the next, nor did you dare to look at any faces glancing and gawking your way. Simply you decided to be an obedient little thing and follow Miss. Romanoff towards wherever she was leading you.

Suddenly, you came to a halt in front of a locked door slowly coming to the realisation this was Miss.Romanoff's personal room; no one was ever allowed to enter. A surge of some sort of excitement flooded the course of your veins in some way as she led you through.

Locking it behind her she pointed to her own personal chaise lounge and you obediently followed her instructions like a lost puppy, almost falling over your own feet to get to it. A low chuckle left her lips sending chills upon chills down your spine and embarrassingly hitting your core (that was probably now soaked.)

"Miss Romanoff I don't know if this is-"

"Natasha," she cut you off instantly smirking at you.

You gawked at the older woman like she'd just spoken in a foreign language. However she brushed it off, slowly approaching you like an animal would it's prey. Lifting your chin up she grinned down at you like a cheshire cat before huskily speaking.

"Call me Natasha. Though I'd also prefer to be called a different name, can your pretty little brain think of what that is?" She asked lustfully.

Gulping you had a smart idea, but didn't want to ask a stupid question. So you kept your mouth shut but apparently Natasha had other idea's towards your 'misbehaviour.'

"Colour," her voice was softer for a moment only by a slight tone but you sensed it.

It almost made you crack for a moment and come to your senses. An employee couldn't- shouldn't sleep with their boss. Yet, as you believed earlier the devil was technically an angel first and you wanted to touch the fire, you wanted her to touch you. However, it was evidence you were taking too long as you'd received an arched eyebrow and she grabbed you firmly by the chin awaiting her answer.

"Green but.. this is wrong you're my.."

A gasp cut you off as she placed her lips instantly on your neck biting down hard before sucking. You felt Natasha's lips trail up and down biting an area she could, knowing instantly it was going to leave a mark. Moans elicited past your lips as you found your head slowly adjusting to give more access.

She sucked and nipped at your skin like her life depended on it, it was intoxicating. She was starting a fire within you no one else could ever ignite. Natasha kissed her way back up to your face before whispering sultry into your earlobe.

"Now you want to keep your job don't you, you want to be a good girl for me?"

"Y-Yes I do Natasha," you went to move your hands in her hair when you felt something restrict you.

A deep blood red-handcuffs the same shade as her hair was holding you back and your eyes widened in realisation. The demon's in your head were fighting with each other as you felt her clamber her way into your lap.

"Now.. you're going to behave for mommy aren't you?"

She grinned at you arching an eyebrow while her plump red lips glistened under the dim lights. You couldn't bring yourself to respond to Natasha, you felt your stomach twisting in knots at the word and your brain go fuzzy.

Restriction on your neck caused your airways to tighten slightly, not too much but the pressure sent a heat to your core you didn't know could happen. She frowned at you sternly, a small crease of annoyance in between her forehead that you found dangerously hot and cute at once.

"Don't make ask twice detka, you should know in the time you've worked for me I hate repeating myself. Now be a good slut and respond."

Not wanting to face the consequences of hell knows what she'd do you nodded instantly a feeling of nervousness that was fuelled by desire and lust rising within you.

"Yes mommy, I'll behave. I promise!"

Your response pleased her, yet your brain didn't have much time to respond as a loud groan escaped your lips. The buzzing sensation pressed against your panties sent you spiralling into oblivion. Natasha captured your lips with her own, red lipstick smearing your own with a kiss, sealing your fate. Signing your soul to the devil seemed like a fate that could send anyone into a panic, but when it was Natasha Romanoff, it was pure bliss.

"Your moans are a delight to my ear sweet girl," her whispers against your lips only spurred you on further.

You found your hips grinding down against the toy your bottom lip become broken and bruised from how hard you were biting it. A small slap to the thigh sent you jolting as you looked up to see Natasha's stern look.

"You move when I tell you to move slut," she slurred out high on lust and desire and you felt a spiral of wetness shoot down to your glistening pussy that was most definitely dripping with desire.

You felt the pressure of the toy increase levels and it took you everything not to cry out in absolute ecstasy but the overwhelming stimulation, it was so intense your toes could curl.

"You're already coming undone are you for your mommy?" Natasha bit down slightly on your ear lobe her fingers trailing up to your throat once more as she whispers into your ear.

"When you lay down on the chaise lounge you'll be screaming my name tonight darling. Yet, did you honestly think that you could get away with that game Y/N?" Her voice dragged down your body as quickly as possible.

Teeth sunk into your skin, nipping sucking and licking into the depths of every single area Natasha could reach. You hands tried to fling over your mouth to muffle your moans, yet your restraining handcuffs brought you back to reality.

"They'll hear Na- Mommy," Your slip-up didn't go unnoticed as a slap to your thigh and a hard bite on your chest caused a cry out from your lips.

"Let them hear you. You wanted a show, I have every intention of giving you one."

Before your thoughts could catch up to your lips a rip echoed through the room as a strength had come from the redhead herself. Gasping as she put some pressure on your clit the intense feeling driving your body into an overwhelming feeling.

As her fingers pressed against your puffy lips you knew instantly you were getting addicted to the feeling; the ignition pushing you towards Natasha's capture. She was easily trying to capture her pray within you and you'd stupidly let her.

"Please.. I need more," You pleaded your brain foggy with lust and utter craving for Natasha in every way possible.

With a single flick of a switch you felt her turn the toy to maximum levels before her fingers were swiftly replaced with a lapping tongue. The cuffs that felt like chains kept to a wall yanked down as you tried to touch.

She spat on your clit and you felt the shit eating grin pass her lips as Natasha heard the familiar sound of tugging from them. Instead she tutted and her eyes grazed up connecting with your own, purposely dragging her tongue up your slit making you cry out from the intensity.

"You're a good girl aren't you hm? Taking your boss so well. Imagine if I got to do a public show with you.. God the way the crowds would go wild as I fucked you over and over again," Natasha lulled against your pussy.

The images dancing through your brain was sinful, absolutely disgusting to others but for some reason like you were trapped in a cage of sex you didn't care. Magic was a dangerous power and a dangerous curse yet she wheeled it all within this room, your body and your mind, your essence and soul.

As she shoved her tongue into your entrance another cry of intense joy, you weren't sure lust most definitely past your lips. Her free hand moved up to your breasts massaging the buds between her tips, sending you without permission releasing your juices all over her tongue.

Ms. Romanoff pulled back and the look on her face was not one of an impressed look, though that didn't stop her tongue swirling around her mouth getting the remaining taste left. That action alone sent another wave to your core despite the overwhelming feeling and you felt your legs like jelly simply from one round.

"Did I say you could cum?" Her voice was stern, boomed against the contrasting atmosphere of what the stench danced with sex, and sweat, desire and fire.

"I.. I didn't me-"

"Did. I. Say. You. Could. Cum?" She repeated her voice was filled with such an authoritative tone sending your mind back to your original meeting.

Had it not been for the handcuffs and the familiar stern look and not wanting any more disapproval from Natasha, you'd have coward away from embarrassment. Instead you shook your head wondering what on earth you'd gotten yourself into it wasn't like you were bound together but.. part of you lived from the excitement; she was a devil, demon of angel and hell with the need to feel her touch.

"No.. No Miss.Romanoff, you did not." Your voice rasped out exhausted from screaming already.

She stood up no word uttered and she disappeared around the back, leaving you to your thoughts for a moment. It felt like you were fucking with the goddess herself, but was it sanity? Was it safe to be sharing sheets and secrets behind closed doors? Possibly not, but her blood-red lips and curves of her body made it impossible not to fall into. A trap of love or lust, it wasn't even known to you within that sight, just the devil herself you'd taste it every-time.

A song brought you from your dancing curious thoughts, one that sent your body ice-cold and your eyes widening instantly. A song called 'Pray' You'd become one to recognise. It was a favourite with your regulars at the club. Except you hadn't quite realised Natasha herself had noticed, but you'd been proven quite wrong.

On the contrary, Natasha walked in with a thick deep red strap-on, one that was already wet ether with her spit or something else it was unknown. But, she knew and had seen it caused a rage in her she hated herself for. Yet, she had to have her way with you.

"Sit back," she ordered pleased instantly you'd complied with no sudden refusals or hesitation.

Without a warning she flung one leg over your body joined by the other leg, until she was sat in your lap straddling you. Instantly, a gut feeling surged through your veins flying through every pulse point sending a fire and ice in one through your very skin. Your suspicions were confirmed when she slowly started to move her hips on you with the strap on.

A lap-dance. A lap dance by Natasha Romanoff, your boss the fucking owner of Desiring ignition. Better yet it was with a strap on.

Her hips moved in a motion not even the most poisonous temptations of the world could, but Natasha out-beat them all. Her hands moved down her body over her hips and you watched in amazement as she began to thrust onto your leg while dancing like a majestic queen. Her moans spilled past her throat, giving you everything you desired sipping her up.

Your hands begged to move and your pussy pulsated allowing some juices to spill out. Your eye's pleaded with her to undo the cuffs but all you'd received in return, was a tut and a small pressure to your throat.

"You can touch soon detka. I'd like to have my fun now. Do you know how long I've waited to have my way with you?" She whispered her hips shaking and thrusting to the beat of the music.

"N-No," you answered honestly to mesmerised by her movements to figure out an answer.

"Since you first walked into that door. I needed you away so I didn't tempt myself with the cup of sinfulness, one that I shouldn't lead by. Yet, when I saw you dance.. Oh my sweet little slut. You were perfect. I needed to ruin all of you," she husked out shaking her strap slightly.

You almost came right from the scene in front of you, gaining your own kind of friction from her strap. However while the music beat sped up one lyric spurred her over the edge and caused her to break the chains of control, fly up from hell and take her prize.

'When she lays down to pray at night.. She'll be screaming my name.'

Something about that song lyric sent Natasha spurring forward and her hips bucked against your lap causing her to cry out in ecstasy. Her hands reached up undoing the cuffs breaking the barrier as your hands finally touched her hips, her olive silky skin feeling beautiful under your finger tips.

Her fingers suddenly managed to make their way underneath her body with a precision that seemed impossible to you and slammed themselves into your now over-stimulated pussy. You cried out in part-pain and mainly bliss the coil in your stomach building up.

She worked you like wonders themselves couldn't work the song blaring in the background. Natasha still continued to give you a lap-dance of sorts but mainly focused on getting the two of you off and fingered you hard and fast, her hips meeting some sort of thrust.

"Scream my name," left her lips and that's all it took.

The coil in your stomach snapped and you came once more all over her fingers, legs shaking and your eyes pooled with tears of joy from how incredible it felt. Natasha followed suite from the sight and the friction cumming all down her strap and some spilling onto your lap causing yourself to groan.

However, she had an ungodly amount of adrenaline pounding through her system as she clambered of your body leaning over your lips and throat demanding one thing of you.

"Suck."

Her voice was raspy sending a pool of wetness shooting down once more and you felt yourself let out some dripping juices by accident. You instantly took the strap on gagging on it as she shoved it deeply in your throat. Looking down, the sight was enough for Natasha to cum right there and then but she held it.

She wanted you to gag on her strap, shut your pretty little mouth up as she took in the sight of what was hers. Her sinful prize, her desired need was sucking her cock so well it was a bliss to see. Hearing you gag she rubbed your pussy once again causing you to cry out the stimulation being too much, yet Natasha ignored you.

She ignored you until your hips jerked up once more being greedy and desperate for her fingers or strap-on and she smirked in sheer delight. She'd made you putty in her hands. You didn't care anymore the manipulation of her job had worked wonders in your mind making it hazed with fuel of her touch and knowing only she could make you like this.

Clambering down, no warning was given as her cock suddenly found your puffy and over-stimulated entrance and her eyes drifted down. Natasha groaned at the sight, how ruined and how messy you were, wetness seeping down your thighs.

Not wanting to waist another minute, her cock slammed into you thrusting hard not giving you any time to adjust. Her lips moved fast and at a ferocious pace causing animalistic like grunts to leave your lips. Your mind danced with her and only her, it was like she'd made her mark engraved her and only her within it and you'd take it all, drink all of her and whatever she'd give you.

Sloppy slapping sounds hit the four walls of the room and her lips slammed into yours as she bit on your bottom lip. Your now free hands, moved into her hair tugging lightly causing a growl fit from an animal that could kill within seconds. Natasha kissed harder, hips slamming down without a single care and you felt yourself becoming close.

"Please.."

She grinned against your lips and you knew what was going to happen then and there. Your boss had won the game of the life time, her prize possession and puppet.

"Cum on mommy's cock like a good little stripper hmm? Let me take all of you," she husked out giving a particular hard thrust.

With that your juices hit her strap-on hard, flowing out of you like a river itself your mouth screaming her name while your body shivered. Hands clawing at her back now the sight was enough to send her spiralling, leaving you just enough time to recover to see the sight.

Her back arched, releasing her own as she had her eyes closed lips partially opened and skin slick with sweat and cum mixed from both of your spots.

Your eyes shut themselves sheer exhaustion taking in and all that could be heard was panting breaths in the room. It was as she leaned down you'd known how badly caught in the trap of lust you were with your own boss, her whispers filling the room.

"I've caught my own trap now, the devil got her prize. And I am far from finished with you yet, mommy's little stripper slut."

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

[nightsmarish]

Summary: James might actually like Slytherins.

Poly!Starchaser x Reader (James Potter x Reader x Regulus Black) | 1.2k words

TW: mentions of Sirius leaving, getting kicked out(?), honestly not a lot I think

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ

When James started Hogwarts, he had a certain distaste for Slytherins. Never an outright hate, unlike his best mate, Sirius. But something about the house always put a sour taste in his mouth. 

Maybe it was the stories Sirius shared of his family, or the way many of them seem to sneer at him, or maybe it was Severus Snape. He was never really sure. But, nevertheless, the Gryffindor seeker has always seemed to avoid Slytherins. 

Until James’ sixth year at Hogwarts. The previous year, Sirius had left Black Manor for good (but if you ask James, Sirius had left closer to third year, the incident in fifth year just made it official). 

All the Marauders know the story well, and all the boys know just as well how distressed Sirius was when Regulus didn’t take the chance to leave with him.

The refusal created a rift between the brothers—a big rift. Like the big crack in the earth muggles call grand that James never remembers the name of. And that rift lasted for the entirety of fifth year.

But the summer before their sixth year marked when Sirius couldn't take it anymore. So, the boys' sixth year marked when the Black brothers started mending their relationship.

And also when James became a pathetic mess for Regulus. Lily was the first to find out. Besides the boys, Lily was James' person. Once he finally got over the childhood crush he had on her, they became actual friends. 

Regulus is just so…. Regulus. He's pretty, first of all, like, so pretty. James isn’t very poetic, but he reckons one of the romance books Remus has read wouldn’t even begin to describe how beautiful Regulus is. From his well-kept, dark hair to his gray eyes, which at times reminds James of The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel. The same painting his mother has fawned over to him and his father many times. The poetically tragic painting. 

And dear Merlin, he's so smart. James has shared very few classes with the boy, being one year apart makes it hard. But when they shared The Study of Ancient Runes, James became almost certain that he's attracted to people smarter than him, (which he realized greatly limited his dating pool because it can be a bit hard to find people smarter than him (save Remus, Lily, and now Regulus)). Don’t get the seeker started on how good Regulus is at quidditch, he could talk all day. 

Honestly, not much changed with this crush when James met you. You had been friends with Regulus (and Crouch and Rosier, but that was irrelevant to James); maybe a little more; he wasn’t sure at the time; the little friend group had always seemed suspiciously close sometimes. 

You. Oh Merlin, you. It made a lot of sense, at first glance, how you and Regulus got along. Both of you seem to be able to sit in silence, not needing a conversation every time you hang out, yet still having fun. But at the same time, James had seen you able to joke and have banter with Crouch and give half glares at Sirius when he was trying to borrow -steal- Regulus for a bit. 

And finally, after months of talking to (mildly annoying) you too, the lot of you finally started dating. Even though Sirius nearly had a heart attack when he found out, either way, James has found himself walking to the Slytherins table before his own more often, and has found himself ducking from Crouch throwing potatoes at him even more regularly. James has also found himself sneaking into the Slytherin common rooms when he isn’t planning a prank. Like right now. 

It's not exactly necessary to sneak into a common room. The way to get into most common rooms stays the same. Ravenclaws answer a riddle; Gryffindors have a password that changes semi-regularly; Hufflepuffs have changed a few times over the past few years, but right now you have to tap a barrel located in the kitchen space near the Hufflepuffs door. But, as it seems, the Slytherins seem to change more regularly. 

Rarely just a simple password nor a rhyme or riddle. Though James likely doesn’t deserve the right to be annoyed by the constant changing because the Marauders pranks are often the reason for a change. And it's not like the boys exactly need a password to get in. Not when you have learned almost all of the secret passageways through the castle and can sneak in through one of them. 

James finds a way down to the dungeons, with or without any password or trick, and makes his way to Regulus' dorm. When he gets there, he's presented with a loving, beautiful, and perfect view.

The dorm is free of Regulus’ dormmates, Crouch and Rosier, the only people who lay claim are you and Regulus. There you two lay, your head on his stomach, arms wrapped around his waist as your body lays between his legs, any closer and you'd be under his skin.

Regulus is lying back on his pillows, jumper far too red to belong to him. As one hand rests on the top of your head, the other lies abandoned. It’s clear both of you had been reading at some point; books lay abandoned nearby on the bed. 

James could scream, squeal even, but instead he silently closes the door and locks it (the only people that would really need it are people with a key (Crouch, Rosier) or people who don't believe in locks (Sirius, and honestly, probably also Crouch and Rosier)). 

James slips off his shoes near the bed, climbing onto the bed with the two of you.

“Love?” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair away from your face as he gently rubs your shoulder.

You shift, barely coherent, as you open your eyes the smallest amount to look at who woke you. They soften a tremendous amount when you register that James is in front of you. 

“Hi, baby,” Salazar, his smile is so bright, he could make the Black Lake change its name with just a curl of the lips. “Your arms are gonna cramp if you don't move.”

James slowly draws your arms from under your shared boyfriend for you, limp like a liquid cat in his arms, and he somehow finds it the most endearing thing in the wizarding world. 

The movement makes Regulus come to consciousness, opening his eyes much quicker than you did and already more alert than you. “Chéri?” 

“Hello, love.” James drags your liquid body to the side of Regulus, instead of on him, and kisses his boyfriend's temple. Freeing a hand to smooth out his hair and stop him from getting up. “Go back to your nap, just moving you guys a bit so neither of you hurt.”

You are quick to go back to wrapping your arms around Regulus, now in a slightly less straining position, ready to go back to dreaming. James' smile might just grow impossibly founder.

James goes to the other side of Regulus, leaving you to cling to his left as James takes his right. “'S ‘kay to go back to sleeping.” 

“I know.”

You reach one of your hands blindly and grab James’ arm, resting it there as the three of you drift back to a lovely sleep.

Maybe James has a taste for a type of Slytherin after all. 

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico is going to be smote by Hermes.

As he trudges through the muddy lake water, seething, he weighs each elaborated murder he has planned for each member of Cabin Eleven against how harshly Hermes will punish him for it. Connor will be flayed alive. Travis will be cooked over an open flame. Julia will be strapped to a rocket and blasted into the sun. Alice will face death by a thousand paper cuts.

And Cecil.

Fucking Cecil.

Cecil Markowitz will face a death so tortuous and harrowing that the constraints of the crime cannot be adequately covered in any mortal tongue. Crucified is too light a term. Nico is going to kill him in a way that is unspeakable — to hell with Hermes and his wrath. Nico is going to smite his dumbass children himself, and it will be worth it.

His boyfriend waits for him, lips pressed together and eyes trained to the sky, on the dock, holding several towels.

“Say nothing,” Nico hisses, slamming his sword on the wood and dragging himself up after it.

“Wasn’t going to,” Will lies. He immediately begins to cough, face turning slightly red. “Well, if I were to say anything —”

“William,” Nico warns.

“I just mean to say,” he soldiers on, setting all but one of the towels down, “that you look —”

He cuts himself off with a quickly smothered giggle.

“I swear to all that is fucking holy, Son of Phoebus.”

He lets Will maneuver him about, towel turning almost black with all the mud it’s absorbing off Nico’s clothes. He has to move on to another towel once he’s finished just Nico’s arm, dripping the soaked towel with a wet plop.

“It’s not that bad.”

Nico stares at him, deadpan. In fact he has to swipe pond scum out of his eyes and hair to glare properly.

“I am the fucking Creature of the Black Lagoon, Solace.”

Will bites his lip, hard. A burst of laughter escapes anyway, heedless of his desperate attempt to smother it, and the worst part is that it’s gorgeous and it makes his eyes light up and his stupid face looks stupid divine, when he’s giggly about something, and it makes Nico want to crush him a little. In the facial region, with his own face.

Except his own face is covered in stinky lake mud.

And Will is laughing.

Hard.

“I mean,” he manages around giggles, holding up a new towel to dab at Nico’s face, “it brings out your eyes, honestly.”

Nico closes his eyes. He lets that sit for a moment. He exhales for ten solid seconds.

“William Andrew.”

“It does! I mean, it’s really the perfect shade —”

“Romance is actually, genuinely dead.”

“— makes them look very deep, actually —”

“I should’ve listened to Demeter and married a doctor.”

“— and lake mud has so many uses! Most of the microbes on you are excellent for the skin. Who wouldn’t want to be compared to lake mud?”

“Oh wait! That is useless advice.”

“And you didn’t even pick up any leeches! Just all this dark, beautiful lake mud, as brown and beautiful as your eyes —”

“I’m returning you to whatever lab you were created in. Obviously you’re defective and I want a new model.”

“— in fact I’ll write a haiku about it.” He clears his throat. “My boyfriend is so hot —”

“Enough,” Nico interrupts, slapping his semi-clean hand over Will’s motormouth before things get any worse. Unfortunately the mud still caked into the lines of his skin contrasts beautifully with Will’s sparkling eyes, making them even bluer somehow. That’s a felony. “Also, that’s six syllables, dumbass.”

“I’ll revise,” he shoots back, muffled.

“If you promise not to, I’ll move my hand.”

Will presses a kiss to his palm because he’s a sappy loser who knows exactly what he does for Nico’s heart problems, based on the wiggle of his stupid perfect eyebrows.

“Deal.”

Nico removes his hand slowly. He lifts it back up when Will opens his mouth, threatening, but luckily he changes course before Nico has to make good on the threat, leaning down to kiss Nico softly, properly.

“I’m crucifying your best friend,” he mumbles against his lips. “That is step one of a ten step torture process.”

“‘Kay.”

“His siblings, too.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hermes might grind me to dust, after.”

“Trying really, really hard to focus on something right now, babe.”

“Right,” Nico breathes. There is still mud drying onto him and it is the Worst, actually, and he still has several homicides to play out, but.

But.

He can spend a little time kissing his boyfriend first.

(As long as that will keep him from spouting any more damn haikus.)

[rollingsins]

say my name

summary: While in bed with Wednesday, you accidentally moan Enid's name.

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, jealous!wednesday, fingering, dirty-talk.

word count: 2.2k words.

a/n: :) horny hour, kids.

Having sex with Wednesday is like a dance. 

A weird, semi-formal gothic dance.

It would start with the lick of her lips. Her eyes, usually wide and emotionless, would narrow slightly. Her pupils would darken. The hair on the back of her neck would stand. 

Then the staring would start. 

Subtle at first, with the quiet tilt of her neck, waiting for you to notice. Then she’d become brazen, open. 

Stare at you unblinking, the slight part of her lips betraying her intent. 

She’d get you things. Water, soda, your favorite book. Like she was trying to court you into bed with her. Rub her hands over your shoulders, weirdly affectionate, so un-Wednesday. Like a black cat in heat. 

She’s doing it now. 

She’d given you a granola bar and a quick kiss to the head before mantling in her spot by her typewriter, just watching. 

“YN,” She’d said, voice low. Lower than usual. The tone she took when it was something she wanted. Something she knew you couldn’t resist. 

“You look very appealing, right now.” 

You’d looked up from your spot on the bed. You’d had your head buried in one of Enid’s dumb romance novels, the kind where everybody seemed to be sans clothes. And you wouldn’t be lying to say the book, combined with the heady look in your girlfriend’s eyes has you more than worked up. 

You cross your legs and bite your lip. 

“I look appealing?” You tease. 

“Alluring.” She corrects.

You tilt your head, smiling slightly. Your belly coils, and all you want to do is pull her onto the bed and on top of you. 

But you can’t resist teasing her a little, first. 

“I look alluring lying on the bed in my sleep shorts?” You ask, blinking. She stands, circling the bed like a lion closing in on its prey. 

“Mmm,” She murmurs, “Very much so.” 

“Huh,” You say, looking back down onto your book. You flip a page, “Well, maybe I should put on some more clothes. I wouldn’t want to allure you away from your writing.” 

Wednesday’s gaze is piercing. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Wednesday says, voice flat. She’s getting closer, hands pressed to either side of the bed, “You won’t be needing your clothes for the next hour or so.” 

“Hour or so?” You say, trying to pretend like her words aren’t sending white hot arousal soaring through you. Instead, you tilt your head, playing dumb, “Are we going to have a bath or something?” 

Wednesday gives you a look, like she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. 

“No,” She says, voice gravelly. She leans down and brushes her lips against the side of your neck, “I would like to partake in intimacy with you.” 

“Oh,” You say, as you tug her a little closer. You thread your fingers through her dark hair, voice hitching as she presses her lips to your neck, “You want to bang, babe? You should have just said.” 

Wednesday frowns. She pulls back slightly, eyebrow raised. Your words lack eloquence, and despite the hungry look in her eyes, she can’t help but correct you. 

“I would like to be intimate with you, yes.” She says and you kiss her. 

A little while into partaking in intimacy, when Wednesday is half-naked on top of you, kissing you desperately, you hear the sharp thud of the door opening. 

And you panic. 

Enid is the first thing that flashes through your mind. You hadn’t locked the door. Again. 

It wasn’t the first time Enid had caught you like this. 

A couple of weeks ago, Enid had pranced in while Wednesday had her head buried between your legs. 

Enid had screamed, you’d screamed, and clamped your legs shut so quickly you’d jutted Wednesday in the face with your knee. 

It had more than ruined the mood. 

Enid couldn’t look the two of you in the eye for weeks. 

She’d scurried out without a word, and promptly relayed the message you and Wednesday were sleeping together to the entire school. 

You didn’t want a repeat. 

You withdraw only slightly from Wednesday’s lips to call out to Enid, warn her.  

Unfortunately for you, it’s that exact moment Wednesday slides her hands into your pants. Your warning call slips into a low moan. 

“Enid.” 

The entire room stills. Wednesday’s hand freezes. The door creaks, slightly. It isn’t Enid, you can tell by the quiet pitter-patter of Thing’s fingertips on the floorboards. He makes a timely exit. 

“Enid?” Wednesday says, pulling back. She’s frowning, confusion on her face. There’s something behind her eyes, hurt, and your eyes widen as you realize the implication of what you just said. 

“Oh, no- babe - I wasn’t - I thought it was her at the door-” 

Wednesday turns. 

The door is shut, no evidence of it ever being breached. Thing had closed it behind him, the little shit, taking with him your only evidence. She turns back to you. 

“There’s no one there.”

Fuck. 

Wednesday withdraws from you. There’s that look in her face, you know it all too well. That look when she’s trying to figure out a puzzle, or a crime, or a string of violent murders. Appraising you like a gothic Veronica Mars. 

“Do you find my roommate attractive, YN?” She asks, watching very carefully for your answer. 

“No.” You groan, fall back onto the mattress. You rack your brain trying to think of ways to get her to believe you. You know her too well - she’s a skeptic by nature. Always inclined to believe the worst. Even in you, her favorite person. You can feel her eyes on you, scanning you like an x-ray. Trying to discern your intentions. 

“If you were… fantasizing about Enid, that is information I should be privy to.” She says after a moment, voice clipped. You sit up, look her in the eyes. They’re guarded, her walls up. You take her hands in yours, try to push through the barrier. 

“Baby, I wasn’t fantasizing about Enid, I swear. I honestly thought she was at the door.”

Wednesday’s lip twitches. She doesn’t quite believe you.

“Why would I be thinking about Enid?” You say, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, “When I have you?”

Wednesday blinks. 

“Enid is arguably more attractive than me. She possesses a rarer color of eye - a deep blue. I find her sunny disposition nauseating but understand it is a far more alluring trait in a partner than my personal brand of nihilism.”

“That’s not true,” You say, reaching for her hand. She withdraws it from you. Her walls are up, and to anyone else she’d look like she was about to kill you. But you see through it. Behind the stark black of her eyes, she’s hurt. 

You’d moaned her roommate's name, for god’s sake. 

“Enid is not more attractive than you,” You say, hurriedly, trying to fix it, “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen and I happen to find your personal brand of nihilism very attractive. I thought it was her at the door, babe, that’s all.”  

Wednesday blinks. 

It’s not in her nature to believe you, this you know. But she knows you by now, she’s studied you harder than her favorite cold cases. She swallows, and gives you the benefit of the doubt. 

“Alright.” She says, voice still a little curt, but lets you pull her back down anyway. 

You kiss a little while longer. 

Her lips are addictive. Consuming. You thread your fingers through her hair, loosening the braids she keeps so perfect all the time. When you break away from her mouth to try and pull at the button of her black slacks, she withdraws again. 

“Enid is in a relationship with Ajax,” She says, eyebrows knit. Her eyes are squinted as she watches yours, “And while I find their coupling odd at best, she seems very happy with him.” 

You groan. 

“Baby,” You say, rubbing your eyes, “I wasn’t thinking about her, I promise. I have no interest in Enid.” 

She stares. 

“You only moaned her name because you thought she was trying to come into the room?”  Wednesday asks, eyes narrowed. 

“It sounds dumb when you say it like that,” You mumble, “You just… put your hands in my… and I just-” 

“Moaned her name.” Wednesday says, voice flat. 

You lean up. Press your hands to her face. 

“I don’t want Enid.” You say, looking her right in the eyes, “I only want you.” 

She stares a moment. Wide brown eyes stare back at you, like she’s trying to decipher the look on your face for any hidden clues. She blinks, finding none. 

“You believe me?” 

Wednesday’s quiet a moment, but then she nods. 

“Good,” You say, “Now come here. Please? I was promised some intimacy.” 

Wednesday leans down and reclaims your lips. Her kisses deepen, tinged with urgency. 

You moan out against her as her hands drop down to pull your shorts clean off your legs. She’s usually slower than this; Wednesday, despite her insistence that she wasn’t, had always been a romantic. 

Usually, she’d kiss you until you were so worked up, you’d have to beg her to touch you. She’d whisper words into your ear, grind down on you until you were a wet, sloppy mess. Like jelly in her hands.

But not tonight. 

Before you can so much as call out her name, she’s sliding your panties down your legs and cupping her hand against your sex. 

You’re wet, embarrassingly so, and so she doesn’t have to tease long. A couple of slow circles around your clit before she’s sinking inside you, her long fingers curling to hit you right in that spot you like so much. 

You gasp as she thrusts, hard, thumb pressing heavy against your clit. Her kisses don’t relent, and you spread your legs a little wider to take her deeper. Your belly coils as she fucks you, her breath hot against your lips. You grip her back with your fingers, sucking on her bottom lip as she sets her pace. 

Hard. Rough. Like it would hurt if you weren’t so turned on. 

She’s going to make me cum in all but three minutes, you think, mind whirling. She’s fucking you like she’s going for an Olympic medal, like if she slows down you’ll disappear on the spot. 

She builds you right to the edge, all tongue and fingers and quiet sharp gasps against your lips. 

And then, she’s withdrawing. Her pace slows, only slightly. Her eyes open, and she presses a long kiss to your lips. 

“Say my name,” She murmurs. Her eyes are dark. Her nose brushes against yours. 

You ignore her, words caught in your throat. 

She’s never been this rough before, and it’s making you so wet you can barely think. All you can feel is the tightening of your belly as her fingers thrust into you. The weight of her body against yours. The quiet little noises of pleasure she makes, the feel of her lips against yours. 

You try to draw her back in, quietly willing her to speed up her pace. 

You’re so, so close. 

She nips at your bottom lip, so hard it draws a little blood. Then, she stills her fingers. 

You groan.

“Baby, please-” 

“Say my name.” She demands this time, eyes flashing. 

This is about Enid. You can tell by the way she’s looking at you. Hungry, a little possessive. She’s claiming you. She’s fucking you harder than she ever has to make you hers. 

You swallow as a new wave of arousal courses through you. You half want to protest. Pull her down and murmur sweet nothings in her ear until all thought of Enid is gone. 

But she’s hot like this. Dark eyes, rough fingers. 

You don’t want it to stop. 

“Wednesday.” 

She’s satisfied with this, curls her fingers slightly and brushes up against that spot. You moan. 

“That’s right. Wednesday. Not Enid, or Ajax or Yoko or any other student at this god-forsaken school. I’m the one who gets to do this. I’m the only one who makes you cum, understand? I’m the only name that should be on your lips.”

“Wednesday, fuck.” You gasp as her thumb brushes your clit, slowly, teasingly, like she’s trying to punish you. You lean in, try to kiss her, but she retracts, eyes dark and stormy. 

“Who’s making you cum?” She presses, “Tell me.” 

“You, baby,” You gasp, “Only you.” 

“Not baby,” Wednesday growls, “Not sweetheart, not darling, not honey. Wednesday. Say it. Say my name.”

“Wednesday.” 

She juts her hand up a final time. You cry out, moan her name once more as your orgasm flashes through you. You clutch at her back, legs locked around her thighs, starry-eyed as she leans down and kisses you desperately though it. 

You sigh, body slumping back into the mattress. 

She comes down with you, tilting her neck slightly to press lazy kisses to your neck. When you open your eyes, she’s watching, fingers still buried deep inside you. 

“I wasn’t moaning her name,” You say, breath ragged, trying to plead your case once more. 

Wednesday hums. 

“No,” She says, and her tone of voice says she finally believes you, “But you were moaning mine.” 

She offers you a small smile - sweet, with only the tiniest hint of a smirk. A smile of victory.

“Do that again,” You say, pulling her back down, “And I’ll moan your name as many times as you want.” 

She leans down, and kisses your neck. Arousal sparks back through you. Her fingers draw, like a pistol ready to be fired.

“Wednesday.” You gasp.

[campredwood-if]

genres: Cosmic horror, thriller, semi-romance

CALLING ALL LEADERS!

We are very excited to invite you to CAMP RED WOOD! A summer home-away-from home where you'll find plenty of opportunity to learn outdoor skills and form friendships with an amazing cast of people!

Please find attached the application form to join our Camp Counselor team!

Camp Red Wood is a Lovecraftian horror based Interactive Fiction, based upon the Delta Green TTRPG system. You will take the role of a Camp Counselor for the next two weeks, helping not only to entertain a flock of bored children, but also keeping them all sane and alive for the summer! All while keeping your own sanity too, and maybe- just maybe- you'll figure out what is really happening at Red Wood Point Park.

FEATURES

Create your own Camp Counselor; customisation varies from appearance, gender, pronouns and personality; to skills, camp background and counselor role!

Interact with a cast of character, form friendships over your short summer, and maybe even fall in love!

Face the horrors!

YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE

Discover the mysteries of the bay and participate in camp activities!

Die.

ROMANTIC OPTIONS

Drew Winters

HEAD CAMP COUNSELOR

19 . Sagittarius . 5'3

Drew is a young, compassionate and determined lady. With rusty brunette hair, plaited down the side and often draped over her shoulder, she give of the air of someone meant to take the lead. She works well with the campers, creating a fun and enthusiastic atmosphere that we value for a Head Counselor.

Though we've observed that she often has issue with a few of her fellow leaders to the point of conflict, this has yet to be proven detrimental to her ability as Head Counselor.

Tobias "Tobey" Oak

ARTS AND CRAFT-TICIAN

18 . Cancer . 5'9

Tobey is a young, enthusiastic and amenable man. With dirty blonde hair, dyed green with chlorine from his time often in the water. Frizzy and untamed. He is returning for his second year as a leader. Though this time, taking the role of our Craft-tician rather than the Water Sports counselor position he had last year. Tobey is known to be liked by the campers, creating a personal and warm environment that we expect from a Leader.

Though, the boy is known to be quite distracted, and we suspect he is often under influence of cannabis, which we do not endorse, nor encourage.

Joem Masri

HIKING AND SURVIVAL SPECIALIST

17 . Virgo . 5'6

Joem is a new addition to our cast. A carefree, though quiet young man. With dark, silky hair he often has half tied back in a small pony-tail or bun. He has applied for the Hiking and Survival Specialist counselor position, with experience with rock-climbing, abseiling and quite the enthusiasm for our native flora.

For now, we'll just have to wait and see how he is with the campers.

Unfortunately this is, however, his first experience in a leadership position, and it is unclear how he will handle the role with the younger campers.

AND SIX MORE TO COME!

Join us for these two weeks, or one night, and experience enriching opportunities you wouldn't find anywhere else!

* The email is real, send through your application!

[hemipenal-system]

just saw a tiktok that frustrated me a bit so heres some semi-regular reminders:

- porn addiction isn’t real (good reading)

- there is nothing wrong with enjoying fictionalized depictions of rape or murder, sexually or otherwise

-the above point goes for fantasies about perpetrators as well as victims equally

- kinks do not hurt people. assault hurts people

- it is frankly none of your business what other people find sexually attractive

- so-called “dark romance” has existed for centuries

- the weird complaints about “booktok” are driven by the same puritanical moral panic that motivates anti-shippers to harass people and conservatives to ban books with queer content

[spencereidluver]

H is for Hold My Hand

october 31, 2008

summary:  You take a cocky, halloween loving Spencer to a haunted house for his first time. He underestimates how scary it actually is going to be, and ends up being taught a very valuable lesson.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: details of a haunted house. nothing  bad though

Spencer Reid was a big Halloween fan. He loved dressing up and going to haunted houses and eating candy. He was a kid at heart, maybe because he never truly had a childhood. 

This year, you decided to take him to a haunted house on the outside of town. It was an old abandoned house that had been boarded up and condemned for years. A few years back, a family bought it and renovated it, turning it into a movie style horror building. It was one of the top spots in the entirety of Quantico during the month of October.

You decided to take your horror-loving boyfriend there as not only a late birthday gift, but also as a way to celebrate halloween. Because let's be honest, two mid-twenty year olds trick or treating isn’t exactly socially acceptable. After going out for a semi-nice dinner, you and Spencer drove 17 miles east to visit the haunted house.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to a haunted house,” Spencer said to you. His eyes were focused on the road as he made gentle movements of the steering wheel with his left hand. His right hand rested on the midsection of your thigh, gripping ever so slightly.

“Really?” You said. You ran your fingers over his, following the bumps of his knuckles.

“Nope. I’ve always wanted to go but never had anyone to go with.”

“Well, now you do.” He smiled, turning his head and giving you a quick peck on the lips. It took Spencer a few weeks to get used to kissing you. For a while, he would ask every time. Last week, the two of you went to the theater on a date. As this was a silent audience, he didn’t want to interrupt. About half way through the show, you felt the buzz of your phone. “Can I kiss you?” a text from Spencer read. You couldn’t help but giggle out loud, which got you a few shushes. You didn’t mind too much, leaning over and giving him a big kiss. 

Kissing Spencer was something straight out of a romance novel. He had this certain way about him, he was always so passionate. The way his lips moved perfectly in sync with yours was something unpredictable. You always imagined him being a good kisser, with practice of course, but he’d clearly done research.

Spencer pulled into the parking lot of the destination. The owners of the house tore down the shed in the back to pave an area. It’s almost as if they know they’d be a city-wide success. 

It was still slightly light outside, the sun having yet to set. You wanted to wait until dark to go inside. You wanted Spencer’s first haunted house experience to be memorable. Of course, anything with him was memorable, however, you wanted to make this extra special for him. After all, Halloween was sort of his thing, and you were sort of his girl-thing. 

You grab Spencer’s hand and turn to look at him. “Hey,” you say, ensuring to keep your voice calm and steady, “I’m not saying you will, but if you do happen to get too scared, we can leave.”

“Y/n, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he says. “I work for the damn FBI.”

“I know Spence, but this is different.” “Yeah. It’s fake.”

He really didn’t know what he was getting into.

“Yeah, it’s fake, but it almost makes it more scary. The people here can touch you, and it’s loud, and basically it’s all the stuff you hate grouped into one thing that you somehow love.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you if I’m scared. But I’ll be fine, y/n.”

He was completely clueless. For one, you were going to prove him wrong. You just knew it. The two of you exit the car, meeting in the front and interlocking hands. Spencer rubs his thumb on the back of your palm and swings your arm back and forward with your steps. 

As you approached the steps to the house, Spencer’s hand began sweating. Yeah, he was nervous, but he’d never ever admit it. He liked to seem strong in front of you, though he’d be the first one to cry if he stepped on a bug. There was something so innocent about him. He just, he was different. 

_____

The line to get in was long, but it moved fast. The entryway to the house was filled with those fake spiderwebs. Those always made Spencer sneeze. The majority of your time in there was spent with Spencer’s arm over his mouth and you trying to convince the people ahead of you he wasn’t sick. 

As you approached the entrance to the basement- where the haunted house started- Spencer began to get giddy. He was so excited, like a kid in a candy store. Except he was a Spencer in a scary house that he was allergic to.

You enter the doorway to the steps that lead to the basement. Spencer trails behind you, walking a little slowly and paying careful attention to each spooky detail on the wall. He held a loose grip on your hand and let you lead him down the stairs. 

As you enter the actual attraction his grip tightens significantly. There was a coffin slightly ajar that had fake blood dripping out from the bottom. A plastic severed hand lay at the gape of the door. Spencer inched closer to you and hid his face in your hair. You silently laughed to yourself and continued walking forward.

As you continued through the basement, there was lots of fake blood and red stained sheets covering walls and pieces of furniture. They did a good job of creepifying this place. There was a fog machine plugged in somewhere, and from out of the fog popped a man draped head to toe in blood stained clothing. He jumped out in front of you and Spencer, screaming into your faces. He then ran back into the fog, knocking over a stack of ceramic plates causing a loud crash. Spencer jumped. Literally, jumped. He pressed his body into yours, attempting to hide behind you. You turn around to look at him.

“You sure you can handle this, Spence?” You ask him. “We can leave if you want to.”

“No, I’m fine. Can you just hold my hand?” He answers, looking into your eyes, almost as if he was too scared to grab your hand himself. You smile at him, taking his hand and dragging him to the next room and through the rest of the basement.

_____

next chapter: I is for "I Knew It!"

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____

a/n: hey guyyys sorry it's been a bit since the last chapter, i've been working a lot and had finals. i really hope i'm able to get back on the grind, but no promises. i hope you all are having a good holiday season! also, i would just like to say that chapter M is a christmas themed story, however it is non secular and celebrated for gifts with the team, not the birth of the christian god. i want to try to make all my stories inclusive to whomever and be able to read across all races and religions. have a wonderful night :)

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff

@ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie

@spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13 @hades-disappointment-child @aceofspades190 @taygrls @hookergutss

@random-3455 @nmw-am @bookworm124 @hizzielover @jem08 @cherrybowbabby @theofficialfunk

@hookergutss  @skylions-den @smalltownbeautyqueen @spencereidapologist @lunajay33 @novaeatsworld @pleasantwitchgarden

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-five: "The Evening of Insecurity"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: You attend a fancy gala as Matt's date.

Or

Old insecurities resurface, making you question your place at Matt's side.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: The gala smut you've all been patiently waiting for (AKA there's semi-public sex in this installment)! Enjoy the return of Spicy Matty because this installment is slightly angsty but definitely filthy. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @babygirlmurdock @theoraekenslover @wanda-maxamommy @justanerd1

Sitting in the back of the limo, your eyes were fixed on the skyline of the city flying by through the open sunroof. All the bright lights intermittently shining along the tall buildings stood out against the night sky–like false stars glittering amongst the city. As the excited chatter among your friends filled the air, you felt your nerves for the evening increase, gnawing at your stomach as you sat silently beside Matt. Occasionally your eyes would drop down to sneak glances at him in his tuxedo beside you as he focused on the conversation, a smile drawn wide on his handsome face as he listened to Foggy. His presence gave you a bit of comfort at least, though admittedly the sight of him dressed so well also caused a stir of anxious butterflies to flutter in your gut.

You’d gotten ready with Marci and Karen at Karen’s apartment for the evening, so you hadn’t actually seen Matt until he’d shown up with Foggy in the limo a little bit ago. Of course he’d looked just as breathtaking in a tuxedo as you remembered him looking during that charity benefit where you’d received an award last year. The dress shirt and suit coat he had on fit his broad, muscular torso just right, making you wish you’d been alone with him in the back of the limo on the ride to the gala. You were certain you’d have ruined your makeup and messed his hair and clothes if it had been just the pair of you alone, too. He looked more than good enough for you to want to throw decorum straight out of the sunroof if it wasn't for the fact that you both had an audience. You were longing to rip that bow tie off of him and tear open the buttons on his shirt. Your fingers practically itched in your lap to yank the zipper of his dress pants down, your body refraining from climbing on top of him and–

Matt’s hand tightened around yours in your lap, the gesture drawing you instantly from your thoughts. Gaze dropping down from the sunroof once more, you saw he’d focused his attention on you now. His dark glasses hid his eyes, but you could see the little coy smile now playing along his lips. He’d clearly picked up on what you’d been thinking about, the thought causing you to clear your throat as you ducked your head, grinning to yourself. Matt leaned over towards you in the seat, his mouth just beside your ear when he spoke.

“Trust me, I’m thinking about after the gala already, too,” he whispered.

At the sound of his deep voice in your ear, the nerves that had been in your stomach were abruptly replaced with a fire that quickly found its way through your veins, heating you from head to toe where you sat. Eyes still averted towards the deep red heels just visible beneath your floor length black dress, you couldn’t resist the words from spilling out of your lips next.

“Actually,” you whispered back, “I was thinking about what I wish we could’ve done beforehand. In the limo. If it had just been us.”

You caught the sharp intake of his breath beside your ear, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you fought back the smile growing further on your face. His hand gripped yours tighter as you felt the limo begin to slow to a stop.

“Oh, hey!” Foggy exclaimed from across the large limo seat. “Looks like we're finally here! Time to rub elbows with the filthy rich, drink all their booze, and eat all their little fancy finger foods!”

You were too focused on the presence of Matt beside you to excitedly stare out the window with your friends now that the limo was gradually pulling to a stop. Instead, you were very aware of the side of Matt's body currently pressed against the side of yours where you sat.

“Might want to control your thoughts tonight, sweetheart,” Matt murmured, his mouth still beside your ear. “I might not be able to hear them, but I can certainly guess at them.”

Raising your gaze from your shoes, you turned and focused on the cocky grin along his mouth. Taking a slow breath in, you fought to control the urge to force him to stay back in the limo with you, desperate to keep him all to yourself for the evening instead of actually attending the event. It was probably a good thing that you hadn't gotten ready together at the apartment because the pair of you might have never left, especially if your first week of living together was anything to go by. Matt dressed in a tuxedo was a turn on all on its own–a sight you were absolutely weak for.

“You're doing it again,” he cheekily pointed out. 

“I can't help it,” you whined softly, aware of your friends already beginning to exit the limo. “It's hard to not have thoughts when you're dressed like that.”

Forcing your eyes away from Matt, you began to scoot along the length of the seat, making your way towards the limo's exit with Matt following behind after you. Carefully you slid out of the vehicle, trying to make sure you remained covered as you stepped outside due to the high slit in the side of your dress. You sent the driver a smile and a polite ‘thank you’ as you took a couple of shaky steps past where he was holding the car door open.

Smoothing a hand down the silk of your dress, your other clutching your purse, you turned back around just in time to see Matt gracefully ease his way out of the back of the limo. You almost lost your footing as you saw him rising to his full height in his tuxedo, your heart skipping at the sight of him. His covered gaze quickly found you, probably having caught the stutter of the traitorous organ in your chest. The smile that formed along his mouth caused your heart to start up again, pounding rapidly and unevenly inside of you. 

The grin remained as he stepped over towards you, your breath coming in sharper as you tried to contain yourself. Matt held out an arm expectantly in your direction and you swallowed hard, reaching out and directing his large hand to your upper arm. His fingers curled firmly around your bare skin, the heat of them raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the night. 

Matt leaned in towards you, amusement in his voice as he whispered, “Breathe, sweetheart. I don't want you passing out on me.”

Heat was burning at your cheeks as a sudden timidity began to overtake you. That feeling like you didn't belong at this man's side–a feeling you hadn't really felt to this extent in quite some time–was suddenly washing over you. It didn't help that you were leading him up onto the sidewalk and over towards your friends where they were standing in front of the elegant ballroom the event was taking place at. Foggy looked handsome as well in his tuxedo as he stood beside both the stunning Marci and Karen, the pair looking like glamorous models in their dresses. 

As you led the both of you towards your friends, Matt silent at your side, your eyes were shifting around at all the well-dressed people making their way towards the entrance. Almost immediately your nerves hit you like a truck once more, your foot twisting in your heels as you took another step. Briefly you faltered, but Matt’s hand gripped your arm tight and quickly caught you, stopping you before you could fall. 

“Relax, everything is going to be alright,” Matt assured you, his mouth once more beside your ear as you both continued walking towards the ballroom entrance. “I've got you tonight Bambi. Just take a deep breath.”

“Right,” you murmured back, nodding your head quickly as nerves continued to fill your stomach. “Tonight will–will be fun.”

“I'll make sure you enjoy yourself here, sweetheart,” he promised. “Just relax and focus on me. That's all you need to do.”

You glanced at him beside you skeptically, your stomach anxiously flipping inside of you. “Okay, that normally calms me down, but tonight is a bit different. It’s not that you don't always look good, but tonight you look insanely good, Matt. Which almost makes me more nervous than relaxed.”

He chuckled lightly, focusing on you at his side as he walked. “And does it make you more or less nervous to know you're coming back home with me after all of this no matter what?” he asked.

“More nervous,” you immediately answered.

“Mmm,” he hummed back thoughtfully, his attention returning ahead of him. “Then maybe don't think about what I'm going to do to you when we get home tonight.”

You laughed weakly as the pair of you approached your friend group. Unfortunately what he'd said had only made you think about going home with this handsome man after the gala even more. And that was only increasing your anxiety for some reason. You definitely felt out of place at his side now that you'd left the safe confines of the limo, your eyes taking in the sight of all the stunning couples around you.

“Yeah, not helping,” you whispered. 

Matt laughed lightly at your side, his warm hand affectionately squeezing your bicep. You didn't know how you had thought you could handle attending this event as his date, but now that you were here, you certainly hoped you could survive it.

Focusing on your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you checked over your makeup and hair once more, making sure everything still looked as good as it had when you’d first left Karen’s apartment. Satisfied that nothing seemed too out of place, even with the occasional kisses Matt had snuck in so far this evening, your hands once more smoothed down the sides of your silk dress. 

You had to admit, the dress you’d chosen for tonight looked good on you. It hit in all the right places and the side slit that reached mid-way up your thigh was surprisingly flattering. You’d certainly never worn anything quite so beautiful before, only having splurged because Matt had practically urged you to buy something you really wanted to wear tonight.

But despite how beautiful the dress was and how good it made you feel to be in it, the nerves still fluttered frantically in your stomach as you stared back at your reflection. A frown pulled the corners of your mouth downwards, your eyes focused on the way they’d dropped. The slight confidence boost you’d felt tonight after getting ready with Karen and Marci had almost completely disappeared in the first hour of you being here with Matt. 

You’d followed him around, his arm looped through yours, politely greeting the people that approached him and smiling as they discussed varying topics. You’d joined the conversations whenever you’d had a chance, but nothing had fully shaken the insecurity that had only continued to grow inside of you every single time Matt introduced you as his girlfriend, because you could’ve sworn a few women had openly sneered at you. Others had given you a once over, their defined brows arching in something like distaste as they eyed you.

You knew Matt couldn’t exactly see what was going on, but you wondered if he’d somehow known something was happening. He’d often pull you further into his side throughout the evening and whisper comforting words before planting a lingering kiss to your temple. And while the gesture occasionally eased a flare up of your insecurity, that feeling always quickly returned whenever the pair of you passed some gorgeous, model-like woman in what was clearly a designer dress as she turned her nose up at you. Or as some other well-dressed man shot you a curious, almost offended glance. You’d soon found yourself wondering how your friends had been so excited about attending an event with all these stuck-up New York City elite–though it seemed like all of them were fairing vastly better this evening than you. And that only made you further feel like you didn’t belong here, walking the ballroom with Matt’s arm looped through yours as if you actually could be the one at his side.

As you were adjusting a loose strand of hair while looking at your reflection, a woman entered the bathroom and approached the opposite end of the counter, ignoring you entirely as she began fixing her makeup. Squaring your shoulders, you forced yourself out of your spiraling thoughts now that you were no longer alone. They weren't going to help anything tonight anyway. 

You reached a hand out, grabbing your clutch purse from off the counter before turning and heading towards the exit. Making your way down the short hallway outside of the bathrooms, you smiled politely whenever you passed someone as sweat began to dampen your palms. When you finally re-entered the extravagantly decorated ballroom a moment later, the sound of the live orchestra playing hit your ears just over the noise of multiple conversations. Feeling your nerves increase even further at the room full of people, you mentally reminded yourself that you only needed to survive for a few more hours here before you and Matt could go home.

Eyes scanning the room, it didn't take you long before you found Matt among the crowd of people. He was standing exactly where you’d left him a few minutes ago when you’d excused yourself to the restroom, but now you noticed he was talking to a different group of people than when you’d been at his side initially–three men and one of those gorgeous, model-like women who was standing a little too close to him. With a sigh, you plastered a bright smile onto your face once more and began making your way through the crowd and over towards the group, walking carefully so as not to trip in your heels. But your smile faltered the closer you neared the group when you began to pick up on the conversation.

“Oh, I apologize,” you overheard one of the men saying to Matt. “I truly thought she was your date tonight. You both just look so good standing together, I only assumed.”

You felt your feet come to an abrupt stop along the floor at the man’s words, your heart thudding so heavily in your chest that you could feel it. That was the last thing you wanted to hear tonight. More confirmation that you weren’t good enough to be at Matt’s side–that you didn’t belong there.

“Ahh, well, considering I’m blind, I can't exactly see why you'd say that,” Matt replied.

His tone had been charming and polite as usual when he'd responded, but you’d caught the edge to his words that the others clearly hadn't. Nevertheless, the entire group still laughed at his joke, but you winced as you stood there rooted to the spot feeling like your heart was gradually sinking to the floor.

“But I can assure you all, my lovely girlfriend is around here somewhere,” Matt added on. “And I’m sure she’ll be back very soon.”

Swallowing hard, you willed yourself to take another step over towards the group, attempting to push down the hurt the man’s comment had caused. You knew it was only a mistake, but that didn't stop it from unleashing even more insecure thoughts that were now running wild in your head, making you feel even worse than you had been a few minutes ago in the bathroom. Though it was taking everything in you to not have your fears feel validated by that small mistake.

You’d barely managed to take two steps closer before you noticed the woman beside Matt raise a hand and place it along his shoulder. The sight had your feet abruptly come to a stop once more. You noticed Matt had stiffened at her touch, but the sight of her so casually and intimately beginning to rub her hand along him immediately elicited a strong reaction from within you. Sick churned in your stomach, your heart nearly launching itself out of your mouth at the sight of this woman so brazenly touching him like that. As if she had every right to do so. The urge to vomit only increased when she leaned in towards him with a seductive smile spread across her damn red lips.

“If I was your lovely girlfriend,” she purred at him, “I’d know far better than to leave you alone in a room full of gorgeous women. Wouldn’t want one coming along and stealing you away from me, if I was her.”

Gritting your teeth, you felt tears burn at your eyes as the other men in the group burst into laughter at her comment. As if what she'd said was actually funny and the implication of her words wasn't vastly inappropriate. The woman just stood there smiling at Matt, her hand still rubbing his shoulder. You took in the frown along Matt’s lips for a second before your feet suddenly moved of their own accord, spinning you around and taking you directly away from the group. Too focused on fighting back tears in your eyes, your hands nearly crushing your clutch purse as you stalked off, you hadn't caught what Matt responded to the woman with. 

By the time you'd finally weaved your way around the mass of people and found yourself out of the ballroom and in an empty hallway, you'd completely lost your sense of direction. You had no idea where you'd wandered off to, your mind too busy cruelly playing back the mental image of that woman touching Matt the way she had. Saying the things she'd said. 

Right now you wanted to scream. To collapse onto the floor and cry, giving into your spiraling thoughts that came rushing back to you–all the ones trying to tell you that you’d never be good enough for Matt. That you didn't belong at his side at events like this. That you would never be the right woman for him.

Throwing a hand over your mouth, you attempted to muffle the choked sound of a sob that you were desperately fighting back. Because you knew that you couldn't cry here no matter how much you wanted to break down. You didn't want to ruin Matt's evening with your insecurities, the very same ones which you thought you'd put to rest already when it came to you being with him. Yet here you were, hiding in a hallway and trying not to cry because some woman was hitting on him in front of you again . Upset because some guy had mistaken her as his date just because of how she looked standing next to him.

Sniffling hard, you tried to force yourself to stop getting so worked up over all of this. This wasn’t the time or the place. Frantically you blinked back your tears, reminding yourself repeatedly that Matt had clearly not wanted that woman's advances and that he had openly acknowledged having a significant other. He hadn't done anything wrong. You honestly weren't even upset at him.

But still, that moment had wounded you quite deeply anyway. It made you once more feel like you weren't meant to be with him. 

Trying to focus on your breathing, you attempted to calm it down and even it out. You needed to relax so that you could find your way back to the ballroom and finish out the rest of the night. You’d worry about all of these spiraling feelings of inadequacy later. But as you were inhaling a slow and quivering breath in, you heard the door at the end of the hall open. Before you could even turn around to see who'd joined you, you heard Matt gently calling out your name. Eyes closing, you roughly blew out the breath you'd just taken. You hadn't wanted him to know how upset you'd been over something so ridiculous. Especially not with how far your relationship had come with him over the past few months. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Matt asked.

With your back facing him, you quickly began wiping at your dampened cheeks, forcing the tears back. You knew it was pointless though because you knew with his senses he had already been aware of the fact that you’d been in here crying. Continuing to roughly wipe at your cheeks, you heard the sound of Matt’s footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Yeah, I'm–I'm fine, Matt,” you answered, trying to keep your voice even. 

“You're crying,” he pointed out. “You're not fine.”

Blinking hard a few more times, you tried to quickly regain control over yourself. But the moment you felt Matt's gentle hand on your shoulder, a soft sniffle snuck its way out of you. 

“I know you overheard what just happened,” he told you quietly. “I heard you walking over as it was happening. I know that’s what has you upset and I'm sorry, sweetheart.”

You shook your head before looking back over your shoulder at him. Matt was standing just behind you, his glasses no longer on his face and covering his eyes, probably having removed them and slipped them into his jacket pocket when he’d come to talk to you. There was a worried crease between his brows as his eyes continued to dart around your face, scanning you over. You could practically feel the way he was analyzing your body right now.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Matt,” you assured him. “You don't need to apologize. It's just–”

You broke off on a sigh, your eyes dropping down to your red heels peeking out from beneath your dress. Matt's hand on your shoulder began to gently spin you around to face him before his other hand landed on your opposite shoulder. Both of his hands gave you a firm, comforting squeeze as you continued to avoid his stare.

“It's just what, sweetheart?” he prompted.

You winced, shaking your head. “It's stupid. Really. I got upset and I was hoping to just come out here and calm down because I know how stupid it all is. We've been over this before–I thought I was past this already.”

“Hey,” Matt murmured, both of his thumbs beginning to rub soothing little circles over your bare shoulders, “whatever upset you isn't stupid. You can talk to me, you know that. I want you to talk to me. We do have that pinky promise, after all.”

Shoulders sagging in defeat, you knew he was right and had a point. You both had long since agreed to communicate with each other. This was precisely one of those times where you needed to.

Inhaling a deep breath, you slowly released it before your eyes traveled their way up Matt's handsome form in his tuxedo. When your eyes finally landed on his face, you couldn't help but relax at the way he was gazing down at you with so much love and concern reflected in his eyes. The sight only had you feeling further idiotic for having had such a strong reaction to that woman hitting on him.

“It’s really stupid but…I just feel like all night everyone has been staring at me like I don't belong here. Or rather, here with you, specifically,” you confessed awkwardly. “Mainly the women. They've just…openly made faces at me all night long and it's been weighing on me. And then to–to come back from the bathroom just to overhear all of that? For that woman to just touch you like that? Make the comment she did?”

You shook your head, that unpleasant squirming of your heart in your chest returning at the memory. Quickly you tried to blink back the tears, not wanting to cry anymore. Matt's expression only further softened as he listened to you. 

“To hear someone else openly acknowledge that another woman looked good next to you–something people here would probably never say about me–it…hurt,” you whispered. 

Matt was quick to wrap his arms around your shoulders, drawing you into the front of himself as he pulled you in for a hug. Your own arms timidly rose up, encircling his waist under his suit coat as you buried your face against his chest, careful not to smear any makeup onto his white shirt. The cologne he'd put on tonight filled your nose as you breathed in, somehow calming the uneven pattering of your aching heart. He smelled good, like something warm and woodsy. Safe and comfortable. The longer you breathed it in, the more it eased that ache in your chest just a little bit more.

“I wouldn't concern yourself with the opinion of anyone here,” he told you, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head. “Everyone here is so superficial and just putting on an act. And if you forgot already, they only invited us here last minute as a slight. Believe me, I've overheard some of the things being said about Nelson, Murdock, and Page when they think we can't hear. It's not you, sweetheart. I promise you that. And you know I love you,” he continued, the soft and even rhythm of his voice calming you more in his embrace. “Not a number far enough from one, right? I don't want anyone here but you and I never will.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “That’s why I feel stupid.”

“Don’t,” he replied. “You had a human reaction to the way you're being treated, sweetheart. That’s normal. It’s okay. I'm just sorry that's how you're being treated because you're here with me.”

One of Matt's hands unwrapped itself from around your shoulders, his fingertips beginning to glide their way down the back of your bare arm as his other continued to hold you to the front of himself. Your eyes closed under his touch, goosebumps rising along the skin his fingers had just brushed over. When his hand reached your wrist, you allowed him to gently unwrap it from around his waist.

“But you know,” he murmured, something about his change in tone catching your attention as his fingers interlocked with yours, “one of these days, there'll be a ring on this hand.”

Your eyes flew open, your entire body tensing against the front of him at what he'd just unexpectedly said. His fingers continued to affectionately toy with the fingers of your left hand as you stood there feeling like you suddenly couldn't breathe, your heart skipping a beat.

“And then I'll be introducing you to everyone as my fiancé at these galas,” he continued, a hint of a smile in his voice, “not my girlfriend.”

Your knees felt weak at his words, your right arm holding onto Matt even tighter, afraid you might actually lose your balance in your heels. It had been awhile since either of you had mentioned marriage, both of you having been so busy lately, but you knew it was something you both wanted. It’d been discussed. But for some reason standing there and hearing him so casually refer to you as being his future fiancé had you wondering if maybe you were closer to that future than you’d even realized. Was it possible he’d already bought a ring? You were too afraid to even hope for that, but the prospect of being engaged to him soon had your insecurities immediately draining straight out of you.

“And eventually,” Matt continued, his chin rising from off the top of your head, his lips lowering beside your ear, “I’ll be introducing you as my wife at these things. Then they’ll all have to call you Mrs. Murdock.”

Sucking in a sharp breath that got stuck in your throat, you found yourself suddenly lightheaded just at the thought of that. A jolt of excitement raced through you as Matt pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then his lips were curling into a smile along your skin. At a loss for words, you stood there with your mouth slightly parted in surprise as you tried to process the fact that he'd just said that.

“You like the sound of that, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed out, not even pausing to think.

Because you did. You liked the sound of that a lot. The idea that Matt really wanted only you so much that he’d make a lifelong commitment to you. That he’d put a ring on your finger as a visible reminder to everyone else that you were his, and someday, you’d get to put one on his finger that showed the world he was yours . Forever.

You liked the thought of that far more than you realized, especially here in this moment and after what had just happened out in that ballroom.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out, his hand which wasn't currently interlocked with yours sliding slowly down your back, “wasn’t quite expecting that reaction when I said that.”

“Wasn’t exactly expecting you to say that,” you whispered back.

His hand continued its slow descent down your spine, a shudder racing up the length of it under his palm. Eventually its trajectory changed, his hand coming to rest along your hip. Holding onto your waist in one hand, his other hand still entwined with yours, Matt began to carefully walk you backwards. As you moved, his nose nuzzled affectionately against your temple while your face remained buried against his chest. You felt your breath coming in sharper, the fingers of your right hand curling around his dress shirt beneath his suit coat as you tried to keep yourself from tripping over your own feet.

“I want to make you mine,” Matt told you, an edge of the possessive Devil in his words. “And I want you to know that you’re mine. To never question it.”

Your back had just barely bumped against the wall before Matt’s hand released yours and instead came to lightly encircle your jaw in his large palm. A soft gasp slipped out of your mouth as his hand gently pushed your head back against the wall, raising it up so that your mouth lined up with his. He leaned in and your eyes snapped shut just before his lips were on yours, somehow soft and full of heat simultaneously. 

You lost your footing at the intensity of the kiss, your left hand flying out to grasp onto Matt’s bicep over his suit coat just before his body pushed you further back against the wall, keeping you upright. His hand continued to hold your jaw firmly in place as he kissed you in a way that he had yet to this entire evening–a way that had your knees trembling. But just as you’d barely had a chance to match that intensity, he abruptly broke away from you, a fire burning in his hazel eyes as he focused his sightless gaze along your cheek. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath, your mind still reeling in the moment.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” he told you. “And I don’t care who tries to flirt with me. There might be a whole room of other women out there,” he continued, gesturing his head back down the hall in the direction from where he’d come, “but the only one I want is right here. And if you want, sweetheart,” he whispered huskily, his hand releasing your jaw and sliding down to lightly grip your neck, “I would be more than happy to show you how much I want you right now.”

Head still resting against the wall behind you, your eyes grew wide. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“I–I’m not sure I follow,” you whispered.

Matt's face hovered a few inches from yours, that unmistakable heat still burning in his eyes as he focused back on you, a small smile on his mouth. You were positive the tips of his fingers were feeling the thrumming of your heart with where they each rested along your neck.

“There’s a room to your right,” he said. “Yes?”

Slowly turning your head, you glanced over your shoulder. There was in fact a door there, one labeled ‘office.’ 

“I don’t hear any cameras inside of it, and I’m guessing it has a locking door,” Matt said. 

Your attention returned to him, your brows jumping up onto your forehead. “Are you suggesting we…?”

“Yes,” he replied, his smile growing into something mischievous on his face, a glint of something flickering in his eyes. “If you want to, of course.”

“But–but Matt,” you whispered in a rush, your cheeks heating as you glanced back to the door at the other end of the hall, “there’s literally hundreds of people back in the ballroom. And security roaming around. We are by no means alone here. We could get caught!”

He shrugged a shoulder, the movement drawing your eyes back to him. You could feel your heart beating faster in your chest at his suggestion, an unexpected excitement growing inside of you at the prospect of having him here at this gala without anyone knowing. The pair of you had never done anything like this before, the closest having been when he’d teased you back at Fogwell’s Gym last year. But you'd been alone at the gym that night–this was different. 

“I can assure you,” he began, “that no one has even been down this hallway except us all night. Trust me, I can tell. If we keep quiet, no one will ever know but us. So it’s up to you, sweetheart.” The corner of his lip curled into a devilish smirk, the sight causing your thighs to press together. “We can certainly head back to the ballroom instead. I would be content just having you at my side for the rest of the night. Or,” he continued, the corner of his lip curling even higher, “I could ease any of your lingering insecurities for the rest of the evening first. Prove that you and you alone are mine.” 

His hand released your neck as he pushed back off the wall, giving you space. Space you found yourself not remotely wanting.

“But the choice is yours,” he assured you. “Because you know I'd never want to make you uncomfortable.”

Mouth opening and closing for a moment, you felt at a loss for words as you tried to decide. There was a part of you that wanted to lead him back down the hallway and just finish out the night. It wasn't like the pair of you couldn't do all of this back at the apartment afterwards, and it would be more than mortifying if the pair of you got caught fucking in an office during this gala. But another part of you was curious. Curious to see what he meant about easing your insecurities–because you knew whatever happened he certainly would. And the thought of fucking him while everyone else was a few rooms over was tempting, especially considering the way both you and Matt had been treated so far this evening by the other guests. It'd be a little secret just between the both of you, and something about that had your blood beginning to rush to your cunt.

Ultimately the image of that woman who'd been running her hand along Matt’s shoulder flashed through your mind again, but this time something else raced through your entire body at the memory of it. Something almost possessive hit you hard. Something territorial. Without further contemplation, you knew exactly what you wanted right now. 

Hands flying out, they latched onto the lapels of Matt's tuxedo before roughly yanking him towards you, immediately crashing your mouth onto his. Matt's hand tightened along your hip almost bruisingly tight in response, something like a snarl vibrating in his throat and rolling into your own mouth. The sound of it had your fingers curling further around his suit coat, your feet beginning to clumsily guide the both of you over towards the office door. After a few steps, your hand released his coat, beginning to feel around the wall for the door handle. You were too caught up in kissing Matt to actually look for it, not wanting to end the moment, but he must've realized what you were doing because he broke away from you a moment later, loosing a breathy laugh as your hand continued to blindly search for the handle. 

“I take that as a yes on doing this,” Matt teased. He released his hold on your hip, grabbing you by the hand instead and shooting you a cheeky smile, one that had the corners of his eyes creasing. “Allow me,” he said.

He pulled you a few more steps down the hall towards the door, reaching a hand out and easily opening it. All the while he continued to smile back at you, his attention never leaving you. Somehow that only made you want him more–especially in that damn tuxedo.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, tugging you along after him. A giggle escaped you as you stumbled into the room behind him, your feet a little unsteady in your heels. You were still unable to believe that you were about to do what you were about to with him while so many people were nearby. But as usual, this was Matt you were with. The very same Matt who always made you feel safe and comfortable.

You had barely entered the room before Matt turned back towards you, quickly closing the door and flipping the lock on the handle. And then he was on you once more, pushing you back against the door without warning as he caged you in between his arms. His mouth was at your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the length of it like you both hadn't just been briefly interrupted. Your head fell back against the door behind you with a soft thump , your eyelids fluttering in pleasure as your hands rose up, grabbing helplessly at his back.

“Only want you,” Matt murmured against your skin between kisses. “Only you.”

He continued trailing his sensual kisses along your throat, his hips pressing you firmly back into the door. Your breath was coming in sharp already, your mind almost entirely forgetting about the gala happening just a few rooms over because of his skilled mouth. When his lips finally landed over your pulse point, you felt his teeth gently bite down on the skin, taking you by surprise and eliciting a sharp hiss of pleasure from you. Your nails dug into his suit jacket, your teeth gritting together to keep from making too much noise. 

“ Matt ,” you breathed out.

“ Mine ,” he snarled in response along your neck.

The hand he had splayed wide along the door beside your head dropped down, landing on your thigh through the slit of your dress. He let out a pleased noise as he began to trail kisses past your collarbone, his face lowering to the cleavage the V-cut of your dress created. His hand began to massage the muscle of your thigh, gradually making its way further up your leg and towards your ass as his lips began to suck at a patch of skin along your breast. A dampness was steadily growing between your thighs, your eyes completely closing under his attention as one of your hands slid up and into his hair.

“Thought there was a slit in your dress,” he whispered, face still buried against your chest, the stubble on his chin tickling you with each word. “Was hoping to properly appreciate it tonight.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut short by his teeth placing soft nips along the swell of your left breast. His hot breath cascaded its way down the front of your dress as he did, the feel of it causing your brain to go blank. His large palm was kneading your ass in a way that had a soft moan tumbling out of your lips, one you were powerless to stop. Matt's mouth paused at the noise, hovering just above your chest as you felt his hand dragging its way back down to your thigh. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warned, his warm palm sliding to the inside of your thigh, fingertips brushing against your cunt just over your now damp panties. “Need to keep quiet if you don't want us to get caught.”

“That might prove–” 

You stopped short as Matt's fingers pushed your panties to the side. They soon began sliding back and forth through your damp folds, collecting the slick that had been steadily forming there for the past few minutes as your breath hitched. Hips squirming along the solid door behind you, a surge of pleasure raced through you when the pad of his finger began to delicately circle your clit. Eyes closed, you swore you saw white flash across your closed lids. He always knew exactly how to touch you.

“Difficult,” you finished lamely. 

“Mmm,” he hummed out thoughtfully.

The pad of his finger continued tracing circles over your clit, your cunt starting to desperately ache for his attention as he did. You could feel his erection growing against your leg through his dress pants with the way his hips were still pushing you back into the door. The feel of it almost had you accidentally loosing another moan.

“Or maybe you'd rather they all knew you were in here with me,” Matt continued, his tone suddenly dark and low–something reminiscent of the Devil. “Is that what you want? For all of them out there to know you're in here letting me touch you like this?”

A quiet curse slipped out of your mouth, your back arching against the door as his finger quickened its pace, pressing more firmly against you as he did. Admittedly you wished that woman out there knew exactly what he was doing to you right now after the way she'd been touching him. You wished she knew just how much he wanted your hands on him instead of hers.

“ Yes ,” you whispered, the word sneaking its way out of your lips. 

The truth of your admission surprised even you, your eyes flying open. Matt was hovering over your cleavage, his finger still drawing delicious patterns on your clit. But his face shifted ever so slightly upwards at your response, his focus turning up towards you. There was something almost dark matching the intensity in his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as a growl rumbled in his chest. Your heart instantly accelerated at the look on his face.

“Certainly caught the truth in that,” he assured you, his finger never stopping its movements along you. “So you want me to give you a reason not to doubt that you're mine for the rest of the night? Is that what you want? To stuff you with my cock and fill you with my cum so you know who exactly you belong to?”

“Yes,” you answered.

Once again you’d found yourself stunned at your admission–and how quickly you’d answered. Even Matt seemed to be taken by surprise for a brief second, his head tilting a little to the side. But then ever so slowly his hand slipped out from under your dress, his smirk growing at the faint, pathetic groan you emitted at the loss of contact. 

He straightened up before you, both of his hands landing on the belt at his waist. Your eyes dropped down in the small distance between you, your heart hammering away in your chest as you watched his hands undo the buckle before sliding his zipper down. In a swift movement, he shoved his pants and boxers farther down his thick thighs before tugging his dress shirt out of the way, all the while your eyes were focused on the emergence of his erect cock springing forth. Practically salivating at the sight of it, especially considering the exhilarating situation you both were in, you whined impatiently against the door.

Matt’s eyes flew to your chin at the noise, a smile overtaking the smirk on his lips. In seconds he was pressing you back against the door behind you, one hand firmly grasping your thigh while his other roughly shoved the fabric of your dress out of the way so forcefully that you swore you heard a seam tear. But you didn’t care as he hoisted your leg up onto his hip, the head of his cock bumping against the slick of your core. Your hips eagerly twitched forwards at the contact, already desperate to feel him fill you.

Matt’s forehead lowered to rest against yours, the hand he didn’t have holding your leg in place along his hip beginning to drag his cock back and forth through your arousal. You bit the tip of your tongue more firmly with each teasing pass of him through your folds–partly in anticipation and partly to remind yourself to keep quiet. Even if you couldn’t hear the noise of the gala, there was a small part of you still aware of it continuing not that far away.

But when you felt him finally sink inside of you, you almost forgot your own name. The pair of you released a sigh at almost the exact same moment, as if you’d been waiting far too long for this connection between the pair of you tonight. Though truthfully with how long you’d had to endure chaste kisses, seeing him in that tuxedo while watching him display his intelligence in conversation all night, had felt like a new form of torture. And now having him finally burying himself inside of you felt like the sweet relief you’d been craving.

Matt rolled his hips forward into you, sliding the entirety of himself inside of you as your hands wound their way into his hair, keeping his forehead against yours. His lips brushed against yours so lightly that you almost didn't feel them just before his fingers dug into your thigh where the slit of your dress had slipped out of the way, gripping you tightly in place against him. His other hand landed with a sharp slam on the door near your head, holding himself upright.

“I’ll give you something to remind yourself that you’re mine for the rest of the evening,” his husky voice promised you. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart.”

Your whole body trembled at his words, feeling him drag his cock out from inside of you slowly at first before he sharply thrust himself back inside of you. Clenching your teeth together at the impact, your fingers curled tighter around the strands of his hair, not even worrying about how mussed it would look by the end of this. You had a feeling the both of you would look disheveled at this point no matter what, and a large part of you almost didn’t care anymore.

Gradually Matt began to pick up his pace as he began to fuck you, his hips eventually snapping forward into you so hard that your back and your ass pounded into the door behind you, the resounding bang accentuating each time he pumped into you, the noise louder than the obscene sound of skin on skin. You were struggling to keep your mouth shut, fighting to keep your pleasure quiet as Matt’s hips continued to viciously roll into you over and over again.

Eventually your lone heel on the floor began to slide ever so slightly back and forth along the tile with the intensity of each of his thrusts. One of your hands dropped down, grabbing onto his round and solid bare ass in an attempt to hold onto something. Beneath your palm, you could feel the large muscle repeatedly contracting in your hold with every pump of his cock burying itself inside of you. Eyes becoming half-lidded, your ragged breaths mingled with his sharp grunts in the minimal space that existed between your mouths. His forehead hadn’t left its place against yours, and every so often his mouth would occasionally graze your lips before he took the opportunity to seize your mouth in soft little kisses. The intimacy of the tender action was a perfect contrast to the way he was currently roughly fucking you into the door behind you.

“No one else–will ever have me–like you do,” Matt ground out between each sharp slam of his hips into yours. “You'll be–the only one–I call Mrs. Murdock.”

Your nails dug into the firm muscle of his ass at his words. You once more hadn't expected him to say that, but the pleasure of hearing it again shot straight through you so fast that you swore your whole body had ignited. With his cock filling you so wholly and those words echoing in your mind, you felt a moan building in the back of your throat. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted. “The way your body reacts every time I say that–” 

Matt inhaled a hiss of air, his hips faltering in their rhythm as if he was already struggling not to cum just at your reaction. The fact that he was so turned on at the prospect of you being his wife alone had your eyes snapping shut completely, that moan that had been building in your throat making it halfway out of your mouth before Matt quickly quieted it with his own, swallowing the sound.

You could feel yourself growing closer to your release already, far more turned on by hearing him call you ‘Mrs. Murdock’ as he buried himself inside of you than you could ever imagine. With the way his body was shuddering against yours, you could tell it was having an unexplainable effect on him, too. One that was drawing him fast to his own climax.

“Say it again,” you whispered.

You heard Matt let out a low groan, his hips beginning to sloppily slam into your own as his blunt nails dug into the flesh of your thigh, clamping it tighter to his hip. Your release was building just at his reaction, making you understand just how he was feeling in that moment, too.

“Call me that again,” you breathed out.

His mouth found yours immediately, latching on as he kissed you fiercely but with so much tenderness. As if he was struggling with the intensity of his own feelings at your request. When he broke away from your mouth, he stayed so close that you could feel his lips brush yours as he whispered the name one more time.

Your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, your thighs shaking as another particularly rough thrust of Matt's hips pushed you back into the door. Your cunt tightened around him as he once more filled you, the delicious stretch of him inside you one you wanted to remember for the rest of the night. 

It was the pleasure-filled, deep moan that Matt so carelessly spilled into the room as he abruptly came inside of you that had you about to cum along with him. He continued to pump into you, the warmth of his release filling you as you neared your own climax. But the moment Matt whispered ‘I love you’ in a broken, breathy pant, you completely lost it. 

Gritting your teeth together, you fought back the moan growing deep in your chest as best as you could, though you couldn't completely quiet it as a wave of pleasure raced up the entirety of your body. Your thighs trembled at the intensity of it as Matt's cock gradually began to slow its pace, your own orgasm washing over you in a crashing, dizzying wave that took you by surprise.

Eventually when you'd finally fallen limp against the door behind you, exhausted and spent, his hips entirely stopped their movement. Inevitably Matt's forehead left yours, your eyes opening as he carefully removed himself from inside of you before shifting your panties back in place. The pair of you were both panting hard, attempting to catch your labored breaths. His face was flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, a look of almost smug satisfaction on it.

Matt's hand gently lowered your leg from his hip, returning your foot to the floor as your hands both found their way to his hips, trying to keep your balance. Matt's own hands landed on your shoulders in return, helping to keep you upright as his gaze landed on your cheek.

“Certainly didn't expect tonight to go this way,” he mused. 

“You and me both,” you breathed out, still trying to catch your breath. “I've never exactly done that before.”

When Matt was sure you weren't about to lose your footing, he released his hold on you and took a step back. With an amused huff and a growing smirk, he began to pull his pants back up and to fix his disheveled state of undress.

“Pretty sure that wasn't the first time we've done that , sweetheart,” he teased. “We seem to do that often. And quite well.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you readjusted your dress, noticing he had just slightly torn the seam when he’d yanked it out of the way. Though you didn't think it was too noticeable to continue wearing tonight.

“You know what I mean, Matt,” you told him. 

“I know, I'm only teasing, love,” he assured you.

Your eyes spotted the small, decorative mirror hanging on the wall across the room, just past Matt as he continued adjusting his tuxedo. You bent down carefully, picking up your clutch purse that you'd dropped to the floor the moment Matt had pushed you back into the door, and then you made your way over to it.

“Convenient there's a mirror in here,” you said to Matt as you began inspecting your slightly smudged lipstick. “I can at least attempt to make myself presentable again before we go back out there.”

Using your fingers to wipe away the smeared lipstick as best you could, you heard Matt approaching you from behind. You saw him appear over your shoulder in the mirror a second later, taking in his out of place hair and slightly rumpled shirt. He wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing himself to the back of you as he leaned in towards your ear, your eyes catching sight of a devious smile on his mouth before he spoke.

“Now when we go back out there,” he murmured, his voice once more low and husky like the Devil’s, “I want you to remember this moment anytime anyone looks at you like you don't belong at my side. And if you catch yourself starting to believe them, I want you to do something for me, okay?”

“And what's that?” you asked him slowly.

Matt's nose brushed along the shell of your ear, your body straightening at the touch.

“I want you to focus on the feel of my cum dripping down your thighs,” he ordered you. 

Your hands stopped what they were doing trying to fix your makeup, hovering over your face as your breath caught in your throat. Eyes growing wide at Matt's reflection, you watched as he pulled away from your ear, turning and grinning at you through the mirror. 

“I know I'll certainly be paying attention to it for the rest of the night,” he said, grin growing wider.

[jhdyuiee]

A wish or two

☁︎ pairing: doyoung x fem!reader x jaehyun

☁︎ synopsis: finally! after going back and forth with Qulture Corps. you've finally landed a spot. everything seemed as though it'll be fine and dandy, however it seems like team managers, Kim Doyoung & Jeong Jaehyun, have other things in mind...

☁︎ tags/warnings: threesome!, smut!, everything is consensual!!, rough sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (males & female receiving), masturbation, spanking, fingering, hair pulling, dirty talk, name calling (whore, good girl, baby), throat fucking, dumbification, impact play (pussy slapping), spitting, multiple orgasms, squirting, kissing/making out, breast play, cursing, praise kink, multiple positions, drinking, office romance

☁︎ w.c: 6.7k

☁︎ a.n: hello! jiji here, this one came up as a request by one of you & thank you so much for that!! i really appreciate any request and will try my best to make them possible. i hope you all enjoy this one, it’s actually my first writing something like this so i am a bit nervous on how you all will enjoy it. anyways stay safe and i’ll hopefully be back soon…🤍

Prologue.

Everything sort of just happened.

There was no stopping either of us.

Our hunger, lust, and desire for one another was an addictive drug. One with no cure.

But I didn’t care… heck I wanted more, Doyoung wanted more, Jaehyun wanted more.

March 20.

Finally… Finally! I can’t believe I finally got accepted! After two months of going back and forth with the company, they’ve finally hired me. Oh thank goodness, I don’t know what I would’ve done if they hadn’t hired me.

Qulture Corps. A renowned company, mainly widely known for producing some of the latest fashion and make-up trends. Since I graduated I’ve been dying to get a spot on their team. Truly, this is a dream come true!

The call I received earlier from them was nerve-racking, I thought they’d call me to inform me I didn't make the team, but luckily I did and was set to start in 3 days.

3 days. Oh god, I’m so fucking excited. ‘What am I going to wear?’ A sheer sense of panic overcame me, first impressions are always a must, especially if I’m going to be working for a company where literally fashion is at the top of its game.

“I have no time to waste,” I muttered, as I got up from my living room couch and headed off to my bedroom. I picked up my purse, slipped on my shoes, and headed off to a mall not so far away from my apartment complex.

I stormed off to every store trying to find the perfect outfit, however I just ended up picking up whatever caught my eye at every store I went to. This is a disaster.

Sighing, I headed off to the next shop, a boutique called Soltre. The store has a beautiful yet elegant aesthetic to it, it was sort of my vibe. I made my way to where a particularly beautiful and gorgeous top was racked. I inspected it, so lost in my thoughts I was unable to hear the footsteps that approached me from behind.

“That’s a beautiful top,” said a voice, causing me to turn around, startled. I was faced with a tall man with dark brown hair and dark chocolate-colored eyes. I was awe-struck, such a beautiful man was standing in front of me. “You should definitely buy it,” he continued when I didn’t respond.

I looked away, my focus back on the shirt. “I guess I’ll take you up on that then,” I finally spoke, glancing up at him again. He gave me a smile, dimples appearing. Wow. “This shop is one of the best in the mall after all,” he said.

‘He seems to know a lot about fashion,” I thought. “You sure know a lot… about uhm, fashion I mean.”

“You can say it’s my line or work per say,” he answered.

“Ah, I see. Well then, I uhm have to get going,” I said, fumbling with the top. I walked past him, but soon turned around, “Thank you.” I offered him a smile as well. He returned a smile as well, “My pleasure,” his voice said smoothly.

Once I paid, I left the store and decided that I had enough shopping for today, plus my arms couldn’t bear to handle another bag so I went back home. My thoughts though kept wondering on the mystery man I met at the store today. I didn’t ask for his name, well not that it should matter since I’ll probably never meet him again.

The rest of the day continued as normal and so did the next 3 days. Until finally, the long awaited day. My first day at the job!

☁︎*^+**

I glanced at myself one last time before heading out. I decided on the top recommended by mr. stranger man, a nice gray pleated skirt, and some cute black mary janes. With everything looking fine in my eyes, I headed to my car. The drive was gonna be at least half an hour, but I’ll manage. The closer I found myself to the building the more my stomach twisted and turned. I was getting even more nervous by the second. I can’t blow this up, I kept repeating.

When I arrived, the building was huge, at most 15 floors. Once I parked, I took quick deep breaths, to calm the nerves. “Let’s do this,” I said, and headed off into whatever awaited me.

The check-in process went smoothly, I met up with my new boss, Lee Taeyong and luckily he seems like a genuinely kind and easy going boss. My nerves from earlier are now fleeting.

I rode in the elevator with Taeyong to the 7th floor, where he was to introduce me to my new team. Once we arrived, I took a look at my surroundings. There were rarely people there, this floor seemed rather peaceful. “Ah, I see you’ve noticed. This is the planning department, and where you’ll be from now on. The planning department is rather small than most companies, but that’s because we choose the best of the best. We want committed people here, creative people who aren’t afraid to voice their thoughts and feelings,” Taeyong explained.

‘Wow… I made it to such a prestigious department… I thought I was just going to spend my days typing away at a screen or answering calls. This is absolutely 10 times better.’

“Wow, I’m honored Mr. Lee,” I spoke, bowing at the man. “Oh, god no you don’t need to do all that, reading your resume I figured you’d be a perfect fit for the team. Plus the team managers thought so as well,” he said.

“Team managers?” I asked, confused. “Ah, yes in this department we have two team managers. Follow me this way and I'll introduce you all,” Taeyong responded, as he guided me to the far end of a hallway located on our left side. Taeyong briefly knocked on the door before proceeding to open it. He ushered me inside, closing the door behind me.

“Hey! You two come over here for a sec,” Taeyong said, capturing the attention of the two males sitting on their desks who then got up, walking towards us. I looked at both of them, ‘Wait a minute he looks-‘ my thought was interrupted by Taeyong.

“You two, this is Y/L/N our new worker. Y/N this is Kim Doyoung and Jeong Jaehyun,” Taeyong explained. One of the two males reached his hand out, “Doyoung,” he mentioned. I took his hand and turned to the man standing beside him.

“Nice seeing you again,” he said with a chuckle. It was Mr. Stranger man in the flesh. Who knew he’d be my new manager, well that explains a whole lot about our interaction…

“You two know each other?” Taeyong asked.

“Ah well-“ I was interrupted by Jaehyun, “We met at the mall a couple days ago when I set out to look for… inspiration.”

Taeyong looked at us, his expression unreadable. “Very well, I trust you two know what to do with her,” he said as the two males nodded.

“Let me know if you have any other questions or concerns Y/N. I look forward to seeing what you bring to the team,” Taeyong added, as he left us behind with one another.

“So, shall we show you to your office?” Doyoung spoke up. I nodded, as they led me to my desk. It was quite close to their office, ‘That’s a relief.’

“Let us know if you need anything… Doyoung and I gotta get back, we have a meeting soon,” Jaehyun explained as he leaned against the door frame.

“Thank you, you two I appreciate it,” I thanked them. They smiled, shutting my door and walking away.

I leaned against my chair, recapping my past hour. It’s only a relief that everything went smoothly, Doyoung seemed great, and Jaehyun did too. I shut my eyes, not believing this was my life now. Honestly, I could get used to this.

However… what I didn’t know was what would come of my life a month from now. The irreversible. The desire. The lust.

1 month later.

It’s been over a month now since I started working for Qulture Corps, and so far it’s been nothing but amazing. The work has gone smoothly, and today we just wrapped up the final meeting for our upcoming Fall Collection. Although, it’s still months aways, production of the products does take some time to produce.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” I answered.

Doyoung appeared before me, “Hey, Y/N I just came in to inform you we're having a team dinner tonight. Would you like to come?”

I pondered for a bit, making sure I had no plans afterwards. “Yeah! That sounds fun, I’ll go,” I said.

“Great, see you at 7 p.m then. I’ll send you the location too,” Doyoung explained before exiting shortly after.

My phone then buzzed with the restaurant's location. In the time that I’ve spent here I’ve been able to get closer to both Doyoung and Jaehyun… However, it feels like something else is there between us. Something unexplainable, indescribable.

I snapped out of my thoughts, continuing my remaining work and answering emails before I decided to head off to meet them at the restaurant.

Luckily the drive there wasn’t long so I found myself a bit early. I entered and gave the waiter Doyoung’s name as Doyung had instructed me to do so. Our table was located in the far back. Later, everyone started pouring in Eunsoo, Leah, Jaemin, Mark, Chenle, Haechan, Yena, and Isabel. Surprisingly, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Taeyong were the last to arrive, you would think that host would be the one’s here first. Kinda funny isn’t it?

“Nice to see you all here,” Taeyong announced.

“Wouldn’t miss out on free drinks!” Haechan cheered.

I chuckled, Haechan was definitely the life of the party within our team. With drinks and food on the table now, everyone dug in. They truly weren’t lying when they said food tastes better when you eat with others.

“Hey~ Y/N~ you’re so beautiful, a-anyone ever told you that~” Leah slurred, she was a rather light drinker. I laughed in her embrace, luckily still a bit sober so as to not do anything stupid. I glanced up, catching Jaehyun as his eyes lingered on mine. My mouth slowly opened so to speak, utter a word, but swallowed the words back down.

I pulled away from Leah’s embrace. “I’m gonna go to the restroom,” I say, excusing myself. Although, I wasn’t going to the restroom… I headed outside, stopping by an alleyway. I wanted some fresh air, the short eye contact with Jaehyun earlier got me irritable hot.

As I took in a breath, a voice spoke up, “Restroom huh.” I whipped my head towards the direction of the voice, only for my eyes to meet with Jaehyun. ‘What was he doing here?’

I stumbled on my words, “I… I, uhm-” Jaehyun walked closer, I inhaled his sandalwood smell that radiated off him. I was losing my composure, ‘Was this the alcohol?’

“Just wanted some fresh air,” I stuttered. “Yeah?” he questioned. I nodded, silence befalling us. I just couldn’t speak. “Look at me,” he whispered. A beat, then two passed before I looked up. Jaehyun was so close, I could feel his breath, see the fire in his eyes. He brought his hand to caress my cheek, then ghosted a finger over my bottom lip.

“Jaehyun…” I whispered. “I’m sorry baby, but can I… Can I kiss you,” he whispered back. I nodded shyly, closing my eyes.

I felt as Jaehyun’s lips collided with mine, his soft lips molded so beautifully against mine. It was gentle, so beautiful that I wished time would stop, but then Jaehyun backed away. My lips feeling empty again.

“Don’t stop,” I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I put my lips back on his, only this time teeth clattering, tongues colliding with one another. It was rougher, that the first that I ended up pushed against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist.

We were so lost in each other we failed to notice the person standing on the front of the alleyway. Cough. I flinched, the cough caused us both pull away and direct our attention to the male standing on the other end.

Doyoung…

“Fuck,” I muttered. I got off Jaehyun, patting myself. We walked to Doyoung who has not said a word since catching both of us.

“I was getting worried when neither of you came back so I looked for you two,” Doyoung later explained.

“Sorry about that,” I apologized. “Oh! No, not at all there is nothing to apologize… In fact, I’m sorry to have walked in on that.”

Gosh thank god it was dark because I was probably burnt red. I was so goddamn embarrassed.

“I should get going now, it’s quite late…” I proceeded to say as a means to get out of this awkward situation.

“Oh, yes of course you’re right. You should get back safely Y/N,” Doyoung said.

“See you tomorrow… Y/N,” Jaehyun said, finally speaking up since Doyoung walked in on us.

After bidding them both farewell, I rushed to my car. I wanted nothing more but to lock myself up in my apartment. A quick drive later, I threw myself on my bed. I recounted my kiss–or rather heated make-out–with Jaehyun, but then the memory of Doyoung catching us haunting right after.

Buzz.

I turned my head to my phone which was lying beside me. Speak of the devil. It was from Doyoung…

I unlocked my phone, opening his message. However, I now wish I hadn’t.

Doyoung: you know Y/N seeing the way you two kissed earlier got me so fucking hard

Doyoung: [ 1 image attachment ]

Doyoung just… he just… Oh my fucking… Was he really sending me a picture of his cock!? “He’s big…” I mumbled as I took another look at the image he sent.

Shit. I felt as the wetness began pulling in between my legs. I rubbed my legs together, but then slipped a hand inside, and fingers inside as I imagined Doyoung roughly pounded in and out of me. The squelching sounds echoed in my room, along with my little whimpers and moans.

First the kiss with Jaehyun and now this, masturbating to Doyoung?!

Once I reached my high, I waited until I caught my breath so to continue the rest of my night time routine. With one last sigh, I laid myself on my bed again, trying to shoo away any indecent thoughts of Jaehyun or Doyoung.

However, that proved rather harder as I ended up dreaming about not one, but both of them!

☁︎*^+**

It’s been 4 days since the whole ordeal with Jaehyun and Doyoung, and everything surprisingly has been rather good. It’s like what happened between us never– happened! We were like regular co-workers again. Though, I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not…

“Y/N?” Eunsoo spoke. I flinched, regaining my focus. “Huh, oh yeah what’s up?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing I was just asking if you’re okay… you’ve been kind of out of it lately,” she said worriedly.

“Yeah, everything's peachy so to speak,” I replied. Nothing was in fact peachy though. Pretending like nothing happened 4 days ago has actually been haunting me. The kiss, picture, dreams have been driving me insane. ‘Was I always so horny?’

Buzz.

My phone vibrated, causing both of us to turn to it. I picked it up, ‘Jaehyun?’

Jaehyun: can you come to my office?

A second later he added,

Jaehyun: like right now

“Looks like I’m being summoned,” I said. Eunsoo bid me a “good luck,” and I scurried off to his office. A million questions pondered my head, but neither of them were about what was to come in the next few minutes.

I knocked, and the followed a “Come in.” As I entered there he was, but he wasn’t alone. Doyoung was here too. ‘Great just my luck.’

“Is something the matter?” I asked. Jaehyun glanced at Doyoung, he hesitated before he spoke. “We have something we want to say to you Y/N.” I gave them a nod as to signal them to continue whatever they wanted to tell me. They gave each other one more glance.

“We’re truly sorry for our behavior that night at the restaurant,” they both said, bowing at me. I can see their sincerity, but part of my heart ached. 'Did they truly think of that night as a mistake? The kiss? The picture?’

They got back up, but neither one of us spoke up. Silence befell us. ‘I didn’t like this. No, I don't want to pretend nothing happened. I-’ “No, god no please,” I spoke up. They looked at me with confused eyes. “D-Don’t pretend nothing happened. At least I can’t. I- I…” my words got caught in my throat. ‘What am I saying?’

Doyoung then spoke up, “You what Y/N… tell us. What do you want?” ‘He’s right, what do I want? Ah, wait a minute… what I want is…’ 

“I want you… I want you both.”

Silence.

Oh god what did I just say. “Oh wait uhm-” I couldn’t even speak as Doyoung's lips collided with mine. His kiss was different from the one I shared with Jaehyun, even more gentle and passionate. ‘Wait a minute Jaehyun!’ I broke our kiss, my eyes meeting Jaehyun’s. He just stood there like how Doyung did that day.

Jaehyun then smirked, coming closer. “Is that really true? You want us both,” he says.

I felt as my face heated up, I glanced from Jaehyun to Doyoung. “Yes,” I muttered. “Please, I want you both.”

No words fell from their mouths, but their movements continued. Jaehyun walked until he was behind me, and Doyoung raised his hand to my chin. “You sure you can handle both of us, right here right now?” Doyoung asked.

“Yes, please I couldn’t stop thinking about that night,” I admitted. I then felt Jaehyun's mouth ghosting near my ear. “Then make sure to not be too loud or else they’ll have to witness how much of a whore you are,” Jaehyun whispered, then kissing my ear down to my neck. Every kiss lit me up even more. I wanted more.

Doyoung then crashed his lips onto mine again with the same intensity, while Jaehyun’s arms wandered all over my body. His hands groped my breast, causing me to moan into the kiss I was sharing with Doyoung. They later wandered even further, until they cupped my cunt causing me to grind on his hand. “Impatient aren’t you?” he whispered into my ear.

Doyoung backed away, our saliva connecting. “We have time, don’t worry,” Doyoung said, as he teased the buttons of my shirt. He slowly unbuttoned each button, dropping the shirt on the floor. My bra later joined in as well, leaving my perky breasts for his eyes. I watched as Doyoung stuck out his tongue, licking on my bud. All the while, Jaehyun began working on my lower half. He successfully got rid of my pants, leaving me in only my panties.

I whipped my head towards him when I felt Jaehyun's fingers playing with my slit. “Oh god,” I whimpered when he prodded his finger in my hole. “So wet already,” he muttered against my neck. I could only let out a small whimper and he continued the movement. “S-Stop teasing me… Please,” I pleaded.

“You sure are an impatient one. Fine then take it,” Jaehyun said as he inserted two of his fingers inside my cunt. I practically sucked his fingers in, the wetness echoed around the room. “Fuck, so tight and wet,” he whispered in my ear. His pace was unbearable, he would slow down and then go fast. I was losing my mind, his fingers hit me so fucking well–  it was like he studied my body beforehand to know what my likes and dislikes were. I felt my stomach clenched, my cunt tightening around his fingers.

It certaining helped too that all the while Doyoung was working his way with my tits. His mouth would lick one and then return the same affection to the other one. He sucked on them like a child, biting down on my bud a couple of times as well. His stimulation on my tits and Jaehyun’s on my cunt were enough to have me pushing me to the edge.

“Cum. I know you want to,” Doyoung said when he let go of my breast with a pop. With a final pinch to my clit by Jaehyun, I came. I came so hard, I would’ve fallen if not for Jaehyun catching me. I watched hazily as Jaehyun licked his fingers clean of my essence, and felt as Doyoung carried me. He then placed me on the couch they had in the middle of their office.

“On your hands and knees,” Doyoung commanded. My body acted on it’s on, getting into the position. I watched as Jaehyun came in front of me, and later whipped my head around to see Doyoung behind me. “Think you can suck me off while he eats you out?” Jaehyun asked. I nodded, so turned on by what he just said that I drooled from my mouth and in between my legs. He chuckled, unzipping his pants and freeing his cock from his underwear. His cock was big. It made me doubt if I would be able to take it all.

“Don’t worry, you can take it baby or else a whore like you wouldn’t have made such a request,” he said when he noticed a hint of doubt on my face. “Now open up.”

I did as Jaehyun said, opening my mouth up for him. I flickered my eyes up to watch him as he brought his cock closer to my mouth. Once it was close enough, I started by swirling my tongue around his tip, and then wrapping my lips around his tip. I watched as his brows furrowed, so I continued my movements. I then began gliding my tongue along his shaft, up and down, down and up. He seemed to be enjoying it judging by the way he’d started groaning. 

As I began taking him even more, I felt Doyoung's tongue begin to kitten lick my cunt. Doyoung had begun with some slow licks, but would stay a bit longer on my clit which caused me to moan against Jaehyun’s cock. His cock was so big that I barely even made it halfway yet. I felt as the tears began pooling in my eyes and drool passed my lips. “That’s a good girl, take more I know you can,” Jaehyun said. And so I did until his cock reached the back of my throat. “Fuck,” Jaehyun groaned, grabbing a fistful of my hair. He started taking over, bobbing my head along his shaft.

Meanwhile, Doyoung had begun licking me even faster, occasionally sucking on my clit which just caused me to moan on Jaehyun’s cock even more. I can tell the sensation satisfied Jaehyun as he muttered incoherent words into the air.

I felt like another high was coming, so fast and quick it was almost embarrassing. As I was lost in the pleasure I suddenly felt a wet muscle poke my hole, oh god. Doyoung was fucking me with his tongue. It felt so good, enough to have my cumming for a second time while Jaehyun was stuffed in my throat. “Cumming before me? I think you deserve a punishment,” Jaehyun said.

‘Punishment? What is he-’ I couldn’t even finish my thoughts before Jaehyun started gripping my hair even tighter and increasing his speed. It was getting messy– drool and tears everywhere. As if matters couldn’t get any more worse, Doyoung landed a slap on my ass. It only caused my eyes to widen and moan on Jaehyun’s cock.

“Fuck, that feels good. Doyoung do that again since it seems like our little whore enjoys it.” I looked up at Jaehyun, with those tearful eyes of mine, in which he also looked down at me. A smirk plastered on his face. Obliging to Jaehyun’s words, Doyung began slapping my ass even more.

“Shit, I’m close,” Jaehyun moaned. A thrust or two down my throat, Jaehyun came into my mouth, my throat. I watched as his chest heaved, and he pushed his hair out of his forehead. “Swallow it all,” he commanded, which I instinctively ended up doing.

“Come here now,” Doyoung’s voice spoke up, as he sat on the couch, patting his lap. I saw as his cock stood proudly against his stomach. I crawled to him. “Put your back against me and put it in yourself,” he said. So then I turned around, grabbing his hard cock and began inserting it inside me. I felt as his cock stretched me out the deeper he went in. “Yes, just like that baby… It’s almost all in,” Doyoung groaned.

“She’s so tight Jaehyun, I guess all that stimulation did nothing to her,” Doyoung chuckled as he turned to the other male. I turned to look at Jaehyun who just kneeled on the couch, fisting his cock. Then suddenly, Doyoung plunged the rest of his cock into me. No warning, just the grip he had on hips. With him all inside me now, I felt as his cock hit my cervix. I whisper lowly, “S’ good.”

“What was that? You like that?” he said, as he began thrusting into me. Who was I to deny what he just said, I loved it. “Ye-Yes you feel so good!” The phrase that slipped past my lips only caused his thrust to become deeper and rougher. Doyoung was treating me like his personal toy. He kept ruthlessly pounded into me, until it came to a halt. “Making me do all the work?”

I turned around, nodding my head no. “Hmm, is that so? I’m tired, why don’t you do it now,” Doyoung says, a slight smirk appearing on his face. So I did, thrusting slowly at first. “Stop the teasing, go faster baby,” Doyoung whispers into my ear. And so I grip onto his thighs, bouncing myself on his cock.

In the midst of it all, Jaehyun continued watching us contently while fisting his cock, he enjoyed the sight in front of him. You, a whimpering mess who was so cock drunk already. He wanted to get a taste of that sweet, tight cunt of yours soon because if he wasn’t already, he’d go insane.

“God, Doyoung I’m cl-close.” My stomach was tightening up, so close to unleashing. “Ready to cum all over my cock,” he replied. I yelled out “yes” as I repeated his name over and over again. “Open your eyes,” another voice said. And so I fluttered them open, Jaehyun’s cock in front of me. I watched as he jerked himself in front of me. It only turned me on even more.

“Shit, you like that? Like watching Jaehyun jerk himself off to you fucking me?” Doyoung says. I tightened even more around his cock, causing Doyoung to groan. His hands roamed down to my clit. He rubbed and pinched the poor thing continuously.

Just a few more thrusts and I came for the third time this night. My back arched, eyes rolling back, and moan and after moan slipping out. However, it didn’t stop here. Doyoung brought his hands back to my hips and kept fucking me through my orgasm. It was all too overstimulating, I felt I could even cum again.

“Fuck, I’m cumming. Don’t waste any drop,” Doyoung groans, finally cumming. His warm seeds painting my walls white. At the same time, Jaehyun also came, cumming all over my breasts. All three of us were heaving, trying to gather some oxygen back into our bodies.

“Don’t think we’re done here,” Jaehyun chuckles. He gently picks me up, bending me over the couch. My hands gripping it, while my ass stuck up. I felt his hand come in contact with my ass cheek in a harsh slap, causing me to yelp forward.

Jaehyun wasted no time, plunging himself deep and snug into my cunt. “Fuck, Doyoung wasn’t lying. How are you still so tight?” Jaehyun says, as he pounds in and out of me. I don’t even know who I am anymore, I could only think of how deep Jaehyun was reaching me. He hit my g-spot so well with every thrust I could barely contain myself. I ended up squirting all over for the first time tonight.

“Making a mess,” Doyoung’s voice spoke. I tried opening my eyes to locate him, only for him to be besides me. We locked eyes, and his lips later engulfed mine. It was a sloppy kiss, but I didn’t care. It felt good, everything felt good. Jaehyun’s thrust too became sloppy, it could only mean he was close too. And so with a thrust or two later, he came in me.

My stomach feels so full now. This is what I’ve wanted. This is what I-

Jaehyun’s POV.

“Shit, did you kill her with your dick?” Doyoung says, laughing as he puts his pants back on.

“So funny, she’s just fallen asleep,” I replied. “Think we went too far?” Doyoung continues.

“Probably, but hey she said she wanted it. Wanted both of us,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. I took Y/N into my arms while Doyoung began cleaning the couch. Luckily, the couch was made of leather so it shouldn’t be too hard right?

I looked down at her. Y/L/N. From the moment I first met her at that store, I fell in love. I know as cliche as it sounds, it’s true. There was something so captivating about her, something that made me want her. All of her.

So when I saw her that day, her first day here I knew it meant something. Fate? Whatever it was, I didn't want to waste any opportunity. Which is why that day at the dinner, I did that. It wasn’t planned or anything, but I just felt something that day. Some urgence?

However, then I learned of Doyoung’s mutual interest in her too. We talked it out, but we left it at “It’s whoever she wants. Whoever she chooses.” But to my surprise, it ended up being both of us.

I smiled down at her sleeping face. She’s cute. Everything about her was just so beautiful. Whether what just happened ends up being a regret for her once she wakes up, I hope she knows or at least has some awareness of our feelings for her.

“Hey!” Doyoung yells, capturing me out of my haze. “I finished cleaning it, bring her over here so we can wipe her clean.”

I nodded, placing her gently back down onto the couch. Doyoung began cleaning her with a wet cloth he got from our private bathroom. “Go get her a pair of clothes, in the meantime Jae,” Doyoung says.

“Mmm, be right back then.”

I exited, leaving them behind. On the elevator ride, my thoughts were consumed with questions. Good and bad ones. In particular, “What will happen once she wakes up?” I tried shrugging them off, as my answers will come once she wakes up.

“Hm?” I stirred my eyes open. ‘Where am I? This isn’t my apartment?’

“Awake already, sleeping beauty?” A voice said. I recognized that voice… Doyoung!

“A-Ah I-” “Water?” Jaehyun says, handing me a water bottle. I gladly accepted it, my throat felt quite dry. ‘Wait a minute… Oh Shit!’ I nearly choked on the water as I remembered what had transpired a couple hours ago. I looked outside their windows, the night sky illuminating.

“Uhm… I-” Jaehyun interrupts me, “regret it?” I looked at him puzzled, ‘regret?’

“What? No, No! I… I just don’t know what I should say, what I should do…”

“Well, it’s whatever you want Y/N,” Doyoung says, getting closer. “You want us to be friends, we’ll go back to that. You want us to be fuck buddies with one another, we’ll do it. You want to put a label on it, we’ll do that too.”

Is he serious right now?! The three of us? Wouldn’t I be asking for too much? Is it greedy of me that I want that. I want to be with them. I want Doyoung. I want Jaehyun.

I look at the floor, trying to hide my embarrassment from what I was about to admit. “I- I want us to be together. Me, Doyoung, and Jaehyun.”

It went silent, neither of them spoke up. So I took the courage to then look up. I flinched, at how close they’d gotten, standing only a few inches away.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Jaehyun asks. I nod, “Yes, is it selfish of me to?”

Jaehyun nods, “No. Be as selfish as you want with us.” To which Doyoung adds, “We just want you to be happy.”

I feel like crying again, only happy tears though. How could this even be my life right now? A tear trickled down. Then another, and another until I felt both of them wipe them off my face.

I smiled, “Thank you. Thank-”

“There’s no need to thank us. We love you,” Doyoung says, smiling as well.

“He’s right. We love you Y/N,” Jaehyun adds. We all smiled, engulfed in each other's warmth.

Today might’ve just been the best day of my life. No matter what the future brought us, I would be prepared to face it because after all I wasn’t alone.

It was me, Doyoung, and Jaehyun. It was us against the world.

Bonus!

I shifted to the other side of the bed, but a strong hold on me prevented me from doing so. I stirred my eyes open, Jaehyun. Ah, that’s right, this was my life now. I’d moved in with Jaehyun and Doyoung a week ago but the whole thing hasn’t really sunk in yet.

“Good morning,” he muttered. “Admiring me already?”

“N-No!” I refuted. It was barely morning and here he is teasing me already.

He chuckled, and then leaned in to kiss my temple. “Sleep well?” I muttered a small, “Yes” before snuggling against his bare chest. I’ve always felt so safe around him, and Doyoung. They made me feel so safe and loved.

We stayed like that for a while until I felt his hands come down to grope my ass. A shameless man he is. ”Where’s Doyoung?” I asked.

“Work probably,” Jaehyun says as he works his lips from my ear to my jaw. He kissed me so tenderly, every touch of his lips felt so warm; his embrace so warm. Jaehyun’s lips then lingered to my mouth, engulfing me into a tender kiss. It always went like this, he would be gentle but then go rougher. His tongue intruding, teeth clashing, and occasional lip biting.

“So I got you all to myself huh,” he whispered in my ear. I giggled before capturing him in another heated kiss that ended up with Jaehyun on top of me.

His hands roamed all over my body, from my waist to hips to breasts. He squeezed my breasts, pinching my nipples that sent an electric shock throughout my body. Oh god.

He parted from our kiss only to look down at my embarrassingly lustful state. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Every part of you baby.”

My heart throbbed at his statement, my face probably beet red. He then began removing my top, leaving my shorts and panties on. He brought his mouth towards one of my breasts, where he began licking it and sucking on my nipple. Later, he returned the same affection to the other neglected breast. I was a squirming mess, I tried getting friction from somewhere, anywhere. God, I was so fucking wet already, I could feel it as it pooled between my legs.

“Eagered like always,” Jaehyun said with a pop as he let go of my breast. His lips kissed down until they reached the waistband of my shorts. Those poor things were off in seconds, along with my panties. I watched as Jaehyun spread my legs open, “God, so wet already.” I moaned his name when I felt him tease my folds with his fingers, and then a Slap.

I widened my eyes at his action. Then again, another Slap. “You like that,” he says, coming closer to my ear. “You like it when I slap your sweet cunt.”

Slap. Oh fuck, was this good. Slap. “Y-Yes!” I yelled. He wasn’t stopping, continuously torturing my cunt. “Look at all this mess you’re making so early in the morning,” Jaehyun’s voice says, bringing his hand to his mouth. I watched as he licked his fingers clean of my essence.

“Get on your hands and knees for me baby,” he later says. I complied, getting in the position he most enjoys. I moaned out even louder when he slid his cock so easily inside me. “Fuck, so wet that it slid right in.”

Grabbing my arms, holding them from behind me, he started mercifully thrusting into me. His cock reaching the deepest part of me like it always has. I was enjoying this so much that I just kept moaning louder and louder.

“Having fun without me?” A voice rose. I quickly looked up, capturing Doyoung’s figure. Oh god.

With another thrust I moaned again. “I was wondering what was going on since I heard screaming, but it looks like our girl was just horny wasn’t she?”

Jaehyun speaks up while thrusting into me, “Yep… Mmm, she thought you… were gone and pounced onto me. Poor thing I couldn't just neglect her.”

“N-No! He- He is ly-lying,” I tried saying. “Lying? Me? You hear that Doyoung she’s accusing me of lying,” Jaehyun says smugly.

“I know, don’t you think she deserves a lesson?” Doyoung questions Jaehyun. Jaehyun chuckles in satisfaction. Oh, no…

Thus, I found myself sucking off Doyoung’s cock while Jaehyun continued pounding into me like some ruthless beast. “Just like that, a little deeper,” Doyoung groans. He watches me intently as I suck his cock into my mouth, but that didn’t last long. Doyoung ended up taking control, thrusting into my throat like I was his personal pleasure toy. Which I admit, I probably was, but hey he was mine too.

“Your pussy swallows me up so well, fuck I’ll never get tired of this,” Jaehyun groans. His thrust had gotten sloppy, meaning he was close to cumming. Good thing I was too as I started squeezing around his cock. I felt Jaehyun’s hand snake to my stomach and then further down. His fingers pinched and rubbed on my clit. I moaned into Doyoung’s cock, the sensation causing his cock to twitch in my mouth.

“I’m cumming,” Jaehyun groaned, thrusting his cock into me one last time. I also met my orgasm, cumming all over Jaehyun’s cock. He must’ve been watching as our cum mixed together, oozing out of my pussy.

“Shit, I’m cumming too,” Doyoung abruptly says, releasing his seeds inside my mouth.

Once we both caught our breaths it was back to fucking again. There was no stopping us once we started. Which was how I ended up with Doyoung’s cock buried within me. “Spread your legs wider,” Doyoung says. “Good girl, keep 'em like that.”

“Open your mouth,” Jaehyun says from the side. I opened it only for him to spit in my mouth and then start kissing me again. My lips are going to be so swollen from all the kissing, but my pussy from all the rough pounding. However, those concerns were at the bottom of my list. The pleasure they kept giving me was too blissful.

I love this. I love Doyoung. I love Jaehyun. “I love you,” I whispered, just loud enough for them both to hear. The three-word phrases elicited a small smile on their faces.

“We love you more.”

© jhdyuiee

24.05.02

final a.n: hi again! i would like to apologize for the delay. i think i have spoken up about this before but i would like to inform u all that as i am still a student, it can be hard to juggle all things at once. im very sorry for not uploading during the month of april, it truly saddens me but with school on my plate its been rather difficult. however, from now on i promise to at least post once a month. thank you for your patience i truly am grateful to every single one of you! i love you all <3!!!!!!!

[borathae]

"You and he aren't supposed to fit so well together. You aren't supposed to work and yet somehow destiny seems to tie you to him tighter and tighter. Will you be able to cut the string of fate before the knot gets tight enough to suffocate or will you accept it and allow yourself to entangle with him?"

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Jimin

Genre: Forbidden Love!AU, Fantasy!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers!AU, Romance, Smut

Warnings: fluffy moments are sprinkled in between, but also angst :(, so much yearning, secret kisses & secret meetings, multiple smut scenes where one is more detailed while the others are implied-ish, she's fighting her feelings for him, he loves her so much, death, grief & guilt, the tension!!!, i'm clawing my skin off i fucking love yearning and forbidden love, consumption of alcohol, oral (m. & f.receiving), indications that she jerks off with his sword handle, strength kink, body worship, sex in nature, semi-public sex, the next warnings are for the detailed smut: sub!Jimin, Dom!Reader, sex in a broom cabinet, mutual stripping, desperate making out, handjob, he kneels as he gives her sloppy head, she pins him against a shelf, and rides him on the floor, he's sensitive and needy, fuck besties they need each other so bad, cumming too soon ehehe, this has a happy end!!!!!

Wordcount: 23.9k

a/n: i blame you guys for making me suffer. you fucking begged me for more knight!jimin and therefore gave me PAIN i am not oKAY OMFG them them them 😭 i don't think i'll ever shut up about them and their bond and the fact that they've known each other since childhood fndnafn have fun besties, this is so fndnfnasnf 🖤

~ To Prologue ~

His gasps are the loudest thing in this silent night. He tries not to make any sounds, but it is difficult when your touch drags pleasure to his skin.

“Mine. All mine”, your whispers are quieter than his gasps, swirling against his length before your warm mouth replaces them again. 

“Please”, Jimin begs, feeling his knees buckle as his senses begin to blur.

You ambushed him tonight. One of your queendom’s viscountess hosted a dance in her castle today and you visited it with your most trusted members of the council. Jimin escorted you as well. As your Queen’s Guard and nothing more. The dance was a two edged sword. You had incredible fun, the food was delicious and wine plenty but the knowledge that you couldn’t even steal as much as one dance with Jimin laid a sad blanket over the evening. And so you danced. You danced with everyone but Jimin, whilst having to resort to sneaking longing glances at the dark haired knight. Glances he retorted with just as much longing in his beautiful eyes.

You arrived back at your castle late into the night. Drunk on wine and good dance, but also burning up in yearning for your knight. And so you visited him in his chambers once your servants helped you get ready for bed and the castle was asleep. 

Jimin came out of his bathing chambers when you ambushed him. He wore nothing more than a drying cloth around his hips and pearl necklaces around his neck, while his black hair was pushed out of his face. You kissed him right where he stood, pushing him until he collided with his dresser and you could touch his every inch. 

“I need to have you”, you sighed against his lips. 

“I need to have you as well, my Queen”, he allowed you and while he believed the night to bring the taste of your cunt, you proceeded to worship every inch of his sculpted torso. With your fingers, your palms, your lips and tongue. You traced every outline, kissed every scar, licked the spots most sensitive and left marks where he arched his back the most. He will trace the marks once he is alone in his chambers and you weren’t with him.

And Jimin felt weakened in pleasure, barely keeping himself upright when you proceeded to fall to your knees, take off the drying cloth and worship his aching length. 

“You taste so heavenly, oh Jimin”, you moan as you abandon his length for the sake of worshiping his heavy balls. Your hand is busy jerking him. He is so wet already, pulsating in your hand. 

“Oh- it, it feels so good ah”, Jimin moans squeakily, scrunching his face, “my Queen...”

It hasn’t been long since you fell to your knees, but Jimin is already grasping the edge of the dresser for strength. He hasn’t experienced such untamed hunger from you before. Such gluttony for his length. It is difficult to handle for someone as sensitive as your beloved knight.

“Please, I will soil you please”, his voice is breathy in ruin, his eyes are glassy as they look down at you, “please, you have to slow down. Ah please.”

His begs have the opposite effect on you. Instead of giving him a break, you take him into your mouth until his groomed hair tickles your nose and he throbs in your tight throat. 

“No I-”, Jimin whimpers and throws his hand over his own mouth to muffle the loud moan escaping him as you force him to climax down your throat. He throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as pleasure courses through him. His knees buckle and make him stumble. If he wasn’t that strong, he would have crumbled to the floor. 

It isn’t often that you are the one on your knees. But tonight you were drunk, jolly from dance and starved for him. He didn’t wear his usual armour tonight. He dressed in leather attire adorned with your queendom’s symbols and wore a pale, silken shirt underneath. He topped it off with pearl jewellery and his sword and styled his hair in a noble way. Truly, every second spend with looking at him was agonising paradise and turned you into the hungry woman you were right now. 

You slip off his length as he whimpers for a break, finding your heaven by kissing his hard abdominal. It is sculpted from the strenuous training your Queen’s Guards have to do daily and ripples under your lips as he fights for air.

“This was incredible”, you moan, swirling your tongue over his lower abs. You are panting and gasping with him, looking up at him with love drunk eyes, “you are the sweetest thing I tasted tonight.”

Jimin swallows heavily, meeting your gaze. His heart swells. He grabs your face and pulls you to your feet, claiming your soiled lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue tangles with yours, feasting on his lingering taste like a starved animal. Seconds later, your feet leave the ground as he lifts you to carry you to bed. Even more seconds later, your dress is lifted up and his length is breaching you as he rocks his hips into you in a desperate rhythm. 

The only thing which keeps the castle from knowing what was happening, are the passionate kisses you share. Otherwise you would be way too loud. 

Jimin is part of your life. It began when thirteen full moons ago, you claimed his innocence and loved him passionately for a night. Since then, he began trickling into your life more and more. You invited him to your bedroom more and more under the guise of wanting his services, which most nights ended in his length deep inside you. You began sneaking to his bedroom more and more and at first, you always left after the fun ended, but then those nights where you stayed with him began. And after that, the nights where he stayed in your bed began. 

And while you should have stopped it then because it reached levels such a secret should have never reached, you didn’t stop. You kept going. And so you kept going until one night, Jimin stood by your door in nothing but his sleeping clothes and he asked to have you. He asked for the first time since you began this forbidden love affair. And while you should have send him away and ended it because it had become something too much, you dragged him into a kiss and allowed him to have you. And he stayed the night. 

That is when the secret became something which never should have happened. You continued to visit him and Jimin began visiting you more and more. You stayed the night, he stayed the night and then one faithful morning, you woke up with him still next to you. Until this point, you and he had always made sure to sneak away before the other – and most importantly, the castle – woke but not that morning. He stayed with you, meeting your gaze as you opened your eyes for the new day. And he gave you a smile, cupped your cheek and whispered that you are the most beautiful person on earth and then he kissed you. 

And you kissed him back eventhough you should have sent him away and ended it. You and he became a secret so forbidden and yet you didn’t send him away.

Jimin stays with you tonight. Your bodies were spent and your dress has found its new home on the floors. You are on your stomach, propped on your elbows and covered by the blanket as you look up at Jimin. He is returning from his small dining table with two jugs of water, climbing back under the warm sheets.

“Thank you”, you accept the water, drinking it gladly, “I felt truly parched”, you say, handing him the half empty jug. He discards it on his nightstand, placing his own jug next to it once he took a healthy sip.

“Yes, I felt the same”, he says and shimmies under the blanket. He rests on his side, propped up on one elbow and with his head supported by his hand. He places his hand on your lower back, rubbing circles on your skin, “it’s not often that you ambush me in such ways”, he says with a smile that reaches his eyes. His damp hair is terribly tousled, his soft cheeks flushed. He looks so beautiful after sex. You could look at him for hours.

“I feel no shame in what I did tonight. The dance was agony. All I wanted was to dance with you and you looked so dashing in your clothes that I almost made a whore of myself in the middle of the room.”

“Oh heavens”, he flusters, letting out little giggles as he throws his head back. He covers his mouth with his hands, speaking in a higher voice, “don’t say such things.”

“I am truthful”, you laugh.

“Oh, I’m aware that you are”, he says, leaning in for a gentle kiss to your temple. You lean into the kiss with closed eyes, feeling utterly calm in his presence, “you looked beautiful as well. I wanted to steal you away from all others.”

You giggle, “you talk the sweetest things.”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling his face against yours to begin kissing you.

“Mhm and you talk the most indecent of things”, he coos, tickling your face gently as he nips on your cheek.

“Jimin, please”, you squeal and moments later, you are on your back while Jimin attacks your face with loving kisses and shares in your giggles.

There is this tree not far outside the capital’s walls. It wasn’t really alive, but it also wasn’t really dead. All its branches were bare, except for one which climbed high enough to reach the light. One has to walk a narrow path along the cliff side, find their way through a cave and climb natural stairs down until one reaches a small plateau in the high cliffs to find it. It is a secluded spot, only the sea and its birds are witness to what happens there. It is the middle of the day and Jimin is beneath you with his mouth latched onto your heat while you stroked his length. You left the castle for a walk and because Jimin was your most trusted guard, he escorted you to keep you safe. At least that is what you let the court believe. You held his hand the second you entered the cave and haven’t let go of it since then. Well, until you couldn’t take the yearning any longer and began kissing him with the sole purpose of connecting with him in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Oh this feels so good. Ah Jimin”, you moan, arching your back as his tongue laps at your heat eagerly. He growls against you, rolling his hips into your touch as he chases the pleasure you bring him.

It has been a few weeks ever since you last touched each other. The night after the dance was long ago and since then, you weren’t able to be with one another again. Your husband returned from his travels, bringing stories to tell, clothes to try on and foreign foods to taste. And so you had to pretend to be a wife most delighted to see him, while Jimin had to pretend to be nothing more than your guard. Your husband didn’t sleep in your bed, but he stayed in your chambers long into the night, telling you stories of his adventures or fulfilling his duties as your husband. He wasn’t terrible and knew not to touch until you allowed him, but he also wasn’t Jimin. That is all the knowledge one needs about this topic as you didn’t truly want to remember the nights with your husband. Yes you allowed him, but you only did so because you feared that if you didn’t at least pretend to want him, he would grow suspicious about how you could go so long without a touch and not be starved for it. And so you shared intimacy with him, finding your release only once you began thinking of Jimin.

Other than the nights of duties you had to share with your husband and having to push away Jimin, having your husband back at the castle wasn’t terrible.

You and he are good friends after all and you always shared wonderful conversations with each other. He also knew how to make you laugh and brought many books filled with stories about foreign cultures. You enjoyed learning about other cultures, so his presents were truly appreciated by you.

Once the sixth week passed, your husband left again, taking his favourite ship to sail east. He promises to return by spring and you told him to be safe and to come back bearing wonderful stories and books filled with knowledge. You kissed him goodbye and he told you that he would write to you the moment he had a quiet moment to himself and then you stood by the shore until his ship was but a small dot on the horizon.

Frigga, your advisor, was with you, as was a small group of the court, some guards and Jimin as your personal guard. You turned to him once your husband’s ship was gone.

“I want to take a walk to clear my heart of the agonies of seeing my beloved leave”, you lied and gave Jimin a look.

“Shall we come with you, my Queen?” Frigga asked.

“No, I want to be alone with my thoughts”, you told her and left the shore.

Jimin followed you and nobody in the court questioned it because he was your personal guard after all, meant to tail you like a shadow and keep you safe. It was truly the perfect disguise to keep the truth hidden. That you left so you and Jimin could finally catch up on six weeks of distance and that you couldn’t wait for the moment your husband’s ship disappeared on the horizon.

“Jimin! Now!” you gasp, throwing your head back as his tongue pushes you over the edge.

He moans into you, intoxicated by your high and charmed by your touch, he finds his own release in the palm of your hand.

Jimin wasn’t always part of the Queen’s Guard. Only a handful of knights will have the honour of serving you in their lifetime. Selected by you and with hard training keeping them strong, the Queen’s Guard is truly a small yet mighty group of knights. 

Jimin became leader of it seven full moons ago. Not only because he was a capable and strong warrior and he proofed himself worthy of such a position, but also because being your personal protector, and the leader of the Guards, meant that people would ask lesser questions about why he was always leaving your chambers or following you to secluded places. After all, you and he must be talking strategies in your chambers and he most definitely follows you to keep you safe. Truly the court was a credulous bunch.

You roll off of Jimin, lying down on the ground beside him. It happens naturally that Jimin stretches out his arm so your head wouldn’t touch the dirty ground. You rest on it comfortably, looking up at the high cliffs. A rock overhang hides the sky from your eyes. The harsh, salty air of the sea made it so that over thousands of years the black rock became dark grey in colour. 

“You truly feel like no other”, you say, “I feel breathless.”

“Yes, I feel breathless as well”, Jimin says as he rests beside you with closed eyes. 

You turn your head to study his features. It is as if every single inch was sculpted by magic. His proportions are perfect for his face. He is so beautiful. 

“I missed you, Jimin.”

“I missed you as well”, he says and turns his head. He looks into your eyes, smiling softly, “you look ruined.”

“Do I? I feel ruined”, you say and laugh.

Jimin laughs with you, reaching out to brush your cheek with his thumb, “I love when you look this way.”

You draw closer to him until your head rested on his upper arm and you could steal a kiss. 

“Mhm”, Jimin smiles into the kiss, stubbing your nose with his own.

“I feel so lucky that he will be gone till spring. Eight months, Jimin. We will be able to do so many wonderful things during this time.”

“I know. I’m excited.”

“Yes, me too.”

You fix your head so you could look at the rocks again. Jimin does the same, smiling to himself as you reach up to hold his hand.

You share a few moments of silence until suddenly you break it with chuckles.

“Why are you laughing?” Jimin asks.

“Oh, I was just thinking.” 

“Tell me.”

“I was just thinking that I can be lucky to have such skilled sorceresses in my castle. Imagine if they didn’t use their prevention magic on my belly. Oh Jimin, we would be producing children like rabbits.”

Jimin laughs, “you think of such crude things, my Queen.”

You giggle, “I know, oh I know. I’m terrible. I can’t help it. I always think of you and what we did.”

Jimin rolls to his side, pulling you into a gentle forehead kiss. 

“I think of you as well. Most of my days even.”

You giggle, seeking his closeness, “oh Jimin, you are wonderful.”

He rubs his hand up and down the back of your head.

“It saddens me that I can’t share my stories with Frigga.”

“It doesn’t sadden me. Don’t make me an indecent man in front of her”, Jimin jokes, making you laugh.

“Oh you”, you nudge his chest, “I wasn’t speaking of our intimacies. I just meant that I find it saddening that I cannot tell her how happy you make me”, you look up into his eyes, “and that I think of you every waking second.”

A sense of sadness washes over Jimin’s face as quickly as a wave crashes the shore. A smile replaces it.

“I know”, he whispers, tracing your brow with his fingertips, “it is already enough that you and I know”, his eyes fill with insecurities, “isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, of course it is enough”, you say and lean in for a kiss.

It has to be enough.

“The Queen Consort is dead! He is dead!”

It was a sunny day when the news reached the castle. You enjoyed the ray of warm light in your courtyard, playing card games with Frigga and your maids, when a messenger interrupted the peace.

“He is dead”, he wheezes with tears in his eyes, “the sea took him. Him and his crew! He’s dead!”

It was a sunny day when the funeral happened. There wasn’t much of him to say goodbye to. Only pieces of his ship and a small heap of books survived. They washed up on the shores and at first you didn’t want to believe that they belonged to his ship. Until your guards found two members of his crew. Their bodies were bloated from the waters and their eyes were already missing from their sockets. Animals must have gotten to them.

Their funeral was held two days after.

It is sunny. It is blinding your eyes. It hurts. You cried all night. And the night before. And all day when the news met you. It has been sunny since. You hate that it is. How dare the sun shines when life is so cruel.

It is custom in your Queendom to give a dead beloved a sea burial. The body was sent out on a wooden boat with food, drink and riches for a safe journey to the afterlife and then the best archer will light an arrow and sent it straight to the boat to set it aflame.

Your husband can’t have such a burial. An empty boat with useless riches and food is sent from shore. You are tasked with shooting the arrow. You light the resin soaked tip and draw the bow. You let go. The arrow flies fast and misses.

The people stay silent, but the humiliation is there in your heart next to the paralysing grief. Most of your queendom is standing by the shore and watches you. You feel useless now that you missed.

One of your servants hands you a new arrow wordlessly, avoiding your eyes. You light it, draw the bow and miss again.

The same servant hands you a third arrow. The boat is getting further and further away. You force down a sob and try again. It misses.

The first whisper sets off a choir of whispers. It isn’t your fault. The sun is too bright and your heart aches too much. You have no strength in your arms. Why are they whispering?

Another arrow is handed to you. You light it with shaking hands and try to draw. The string barely wants to budge. The boat is far away. The whispers grow.

“She won’t do it.”

“She’s not strong enough.”

They don’t know that you can hear them, but you can. You struggle with holding the string, but you have to draw more. It is so difficult to do.

“Her husband’s already died at sea without proper burial and now she can’t even send him off.”

You fight for air and lower the bow. The gasps are deafening in your ears. You can’t do it. You couldn’t love him right and now you can’t even send him off right. You are a failure of a wife.

You try again. You have to send him off properly. The string barely moves. A small sob escapes you. The whispers are so loud. You can’t do it and all they can do is whisper. Your head turns. You are going to pass out.

Strong arms lie themselves around you, an armoured chest presses into your back. You tense up, but feel yourself relax when Jimin’s face comes into your vision.

“Trust in me, I can help you”, he whispers as he helps you draw the bow.

The whispers are still in the back of your head, talking about how you cannot do it alone.

“Don’t listen to them. Concentrate on me. They don’t know what they’re saying”, he tells you and aims the bow, “once I stopped talking, we will let go together. Understood?”

You nod your head.

“Okay. Let go.”

The arrow flies fast and it flies straight, connecting with the boat far, far in the distance. It lights up within seconds, painting a bright orange spot on the blue ocean canvas.

The music starts and people behind you begin cheering. It is custom to send off the dead with song and cheer. But you can’t cheer. You are humiliated and at the end of your strength. You turn, falling into Jimin’s arms as you sob uncontrollably. Only a handful of people look at you, while the rest was busy celebrating your husband’s safe journey to the other life.

“I do not wish to be here. Please take me away”, you beg Jimin.

“Of course. Come, hide in me”, Jimin tells you and leads you away from the festivities. Some people try to fetch a touch, but he pushes them away skilfully, sending each a deathly glare.

You can still hear the festivities from your castle. The building is empty as everyone is by the shore wishing your husband and his crew a safe journey. You wanted silence and yet the music and cheers still meet your ears.

Jimin manages to lead you as far as the dining halls and then strength forsakes you.

“I can’t do this”, you wail, falling to your knees.

“Oh”, Jimin gasps and stumbles as the sudden drag surprised him. He catches himself quickly, helping you back to your feet. Together, you and he manage to stumble to a bench, “sit down here. Sit down”, he tells you, helping you with it.

You sink into yourself once you are seated, burying your face in the clammy palms of your hands. Jimin squats down before you, trying to calm you down by rubbing your arms.

“I can’t do this anymore”, you cry.

“Oh my treasure”, Jimin gets out with comradery tears in his eyes, “I’m here. I’m right here”, he promises and pulls you into a hug. He kisses the side of your head, swaying you from side to side gently, “I’m here.”

You and he will hug by this bench until the first voices of people returning meet your ears. And you won’t be able to tell anyone, but you were so incredibly happy to have Jimin by your side.

It shouldn’t have to be mentioned that the weeks after your husband’s early death were filled with grief. You didn’t spend a lot of time doing things a Queen should do. Your once colourful clothing caught dust in your dressers as only the blackest of garments cover your body. Your jewellery stayed untouched and if it wasn’t for your servants, you wouldn’t even have bothered to do your hair. Jimin brings food to you each night. Sometimes Frigga is faster than him and they meet in your chambers with slight awkward surprise between them. Thankfully nobody questions why he spends time with you each night. The court thinks that Jimin is solely doing his duty as your guard and he does. Of course does, but more than anything he attempts to be there for you as your lover, offering you arms to fall into when you needed it and a shoulder to cry on when the tears didn’t want to stop.

“My Queen?”

He brings dinner tonight as well. Your chambers are empty and the scent of vanilla oil fills the room. He knows the origins of this scent like a lover knows the scent of his beloved’s skin. You are bathing.

Jimin places the tray of food on your dining table and takes the path to your bathing chambers. 

You have your back turned to him as you look outside at the sea. The full moon reflects in the unruly waves. A storm is brewing. The kind of storm which took your husband. Jimin knows by just looking at your hunched posture that this is what you are thinking.

“My Queen?”

You turn your head upon hearing Jimin’s voice, meeting his gaze with exhausted eyes. You hum as acknowledgement but otherwise stay quiet.

“Why are the windows open? Aren’t you cold?” Jimin asks, hurrying to the open windows. He closes them, locking out the cold winds. He turns back to you. You are looking at him with tired eyes and your chin resting on your knee. 

“Do you want to leave the water?”

You nod your head.

“I shall call the servants.”

“No. Stay. Don’t call them.”

Jimin watches you stand up and point at the drying cloth. He hurries to it and picks it up instantly, carrying it to you. He holds your hand as he helps you out of the stone tub and wraps you up in the cloth. You lean into him, resting your head back against him as he rubs his hands along your body to dry you. 

“A storm is brewing on the horizon”, you whisper.

“I know. It will be a cold night, but we are inside where it is warm.”

“Do you think that Mino was cold before he died?”

Jimin falters in his touch, looking at the side of your face. You never called your husband by his name before. At least not in front of him.

“I cannot say”, Jimin says quietly. 

“To imagine that he died wet and cold. Storms are so scary. Oh, he must have been so frightened.”

“I am sure that he thought of you, which made it easier to bear.”

“Don’t say that”, you gasp and tear up, “why would you say such a thing?”

“I didn’t think that it would hurt you. Forgive me, oh please don’t cry.”

“I was such a terrible wife to him. He thought of me as he died while I laid in your arms and wasted not a second with thinking of him.”

Jimin would be lying if he said that your words didn’t leave an ache in his heart. He swallows it down and wraps his arm around you.

“Perhaps he didn’t think of you. I just merely said such words because this is what I would do.” 

“Oh”, you let out, spilling tears, “oh what have I done?” 

“Come. Let us get you in some clothes. Come”, Jimin says and leads you outside the bathing chambers and also hopefully away from your emotions. 

He sits you down by your dressing table and hurries to your drawers to get a warm sleeping gown. 

“Jimin, do you believe me to be a terrible person?” you ask him with emotion in your voice, but thankfully no sobs.

“No, my Queen. I believe you to be the most precious person on this planet.”

“If you didn’t love me, would you still think this way?”

“Yes. But I love you and I do not want to imagine a world where I don’t”, he says and hurries back to you, “now, stand up and allow me to dress you.”

You allow him. You stand up and raise your arms so he could slip the sleeping gown on. Then you turn and allow him to tie it in the back. Jimin gives your shoulders a gentle massage once you are dressed, pushing you down carefully until you fall onto the chair. He leans down and places kisses from your dressed shoulder up to your neck. 

He looks at you in the mirror, expecting you to have your eyes closed as you always have when he kisses your neck but instead you are looking at him with sad eyes. 

“I’m frightened”, you confess. 

Jimin furrows his brows in worry. 

“I should be relieved that I am not betraying my husband behind his back anymore, but I am not. I grieve for him deeply and I am frightened.”

“Frightened of what?”

“I do not wish to marry into royalty again. I want to marry you.”

Jimin smiles.

“And yet I am frightened that I will have to. My queendom is so small compared to others. What if people want to attack us now that we lost such a strong ally?”

“Who would want to attack us? We are a peaceful queendom.”

“We are, but the Queens of Stormveil aren’t, neither are the Naritauri. Danger lies beyond the sea and I am frightened.”

“Please don’t be. Those are futures which won’t happen”, Jimin assures you and wraps his arms around you. His cheek is resting against yours, he is swaying your bodies slowly, “for tonight the future you should think about is dinner and how I will rub your back until you fall asleep.”

He expects a smile but receives a sad frown. 

“What’s the matter? Do you not want me to?” 

“I have to send you away tonight”, you press out. 

Jimin feels weird in his stomach. This isn’t going to end well. This is going to hurt him. 

He keeps holding you in an attempt to drag out the inevitable.

“I am sure that none of your maids will come here tonight”, he acts oblivious in hopes of steering the conversation into another direction.

“No. No, I have to send you away. I cannot do this right now.”

“Do you want me to stop hugging you?”

“No, of course I don’t, but I have to send you away. I need time.”

Jimin falters. He shakes his head.

“Please, Jimin”, you whisper, placing your hands on his lower arms, “find it in yourself to understand me. I have too much going on, I cannot drag you along for it.”

“I’m your guard. There is no situation more suited for me than what you are currently experiencing. It is my duty to protect you from harm”, he slides his hand to where your heart races, “especially harm on the heart”, he whispers.

“Jimin please”, you beg, “I cannot do this right now. I need time.” 

Jimin blinks his tears away.

“Time for what?” he asks quietly.

“Time to think and to come up with what I should do and how I should handle the dangers of being such a small, unmarried country with such dangerous neighbours.”

“You can do those things with me by your side.”

“Yes, indeed I can. As my guard.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can think about these things with me as your lover as well.” 

“I’m sorry. I need time. Everything feels like too much.”

“I don’t want to leave tonight.”

“Neither do I want you to, Jimin!” you say loudly, standing up and therefore breaking the hug. You turn, placing your hands on his chest, “I have to do all this thinking so I do not have to send you away anymore. Do you not understand? I am widowed, Queen of a weak country and I cannot be caught with my guard sleeping in my bed. If people caught you, rumours would start. Rumours that you were compliant in my husband’s death so you could seduce me.”

You shake him by his collar, squeezing out tears.

“And I would have to choose between executing you to make an example or running away from here and making us a target for every possible assassin on the continent.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“You speak of impossible futures. Such things would never happen.” 

“I cannot risk it, Jimin. I just simply cannot. Please give me time. Please, I will fix this. Please, I simply need time.”

Jimin takes a deep breath. He will do something that he will hopefully not regret.

“Very well”, he gives in, “I will give you time. I will fulfil my duties as your guard and give you time.”

“Thank you so much”, you say, cupping his cheeks to pull him into a kiss. This is the last thing you should be doing right now, but you can’t help yourself. You need him like you need air.

Jimin deepens the kiss with his hand on your lower back and his other cupping your cheek. He doesn’t want to stop, to let go, to end this. Once that kiss ends, you will send him away and he will return to being nothing more than your guard. You speak of temporary distance. Jimin sees that you need it as your mind produces futures most impossible and you clearly need the time to rid your mind of them. But he is scared that this isn’t temporary. That perhaps your heart won’t change, but fate will. That life will be cruel enough to force it to change. 

You break the kiss.

“Not yet please”, Jimin begs, chasing you. 

“Jimin, please”, you beg, fleeing him, “please make it easier for me.”

“Then you shouldn’t have kissed me. You shouldn’t have given me a glimpse of you.”

“Please…I….please.”

“Just one more kiss. Please.”

“And then you will beg for one more and then we will end up in bed and I couldn’t possibly send you away.”

“And what would be so terrible about this? A storm is coming. The night will be cold. Allow me to keep you warm”, he caresses your cheek, “___.”

You let out a small whimper, twisting the hair at the back of his head.

“I curse you”, you get out and pull him back into a kiss. 

Jimin doesn’t leave your chambers tonight. But he leaves them tomorrow with the same promise between you and him which he gave you last night. He will give you time.

He shouldn’t have given you time. 

Jimin finally knows why he never should have made such a promise. 

Fate proved him right and now he has to pay the consequences. Your queendom was attacked. But not in the way one might expect, but in a way far worse anyone could have ever imagined. It was attacked by a flood of suitors begging for your hand in marriage. It has been weeks and the proposals won’t stop. He has to stand by your side and has listen to the disgusting yapping of boring men while you pretended to be somewhat interested in what they had to say. 

Perhaps the weeks would have been easier to bear if you gave him a feeling as if you and he weren’t over. But you didn’t. You didn’t call for him at night, didn’t visit him in his chambers, stopped visiting the secret spots you and he so often had found yourselves in to kiss and hug. You even stopped looking at him from the other side of the room or going on walks just so he could follow. 

You acted as if he was just another one of your guards and it ripped him apart. He aches for you and yet you seem so indifferent about him. Jimin already began wondering if you ever really loved him as he loved you. 

Today, the fates were especially cruel to him. 

One of your suitors invited you to a hunting party and because Jimin was your most trusted guard, he had to come along, trailing behind you as this boring, ugly man spit his attempts at seducing you. Jimin could speak to his fellow knights or listen to some of the other noble people coming along for the hunt, but he didn’t want to listen. Not when he had to watch you get seduced by someone as ugly as Lord Frail. It should be a crime that someone like him even looks at you. 

The hunt takes your party of ten noble people, a handful of servants and ten guards deep into your queendom’s forests. Tough conifer trees filled the forests and sharp thorns covered the parts which weren’t paths. Dark green ferns broke up the thick thorn carpets and the scent of the ocean followed you.

“The weather’s good for a hunt. Wouldn’t you say, Sire?”

Jimin turns his head to the right as someone clearly addressed him. One of his fellow Queen’s Guards. He joined them a year ago and looked up to Jimin a lot.

“I guess”, Jimin murmurs, looking back at you and the boring Lord Frail.

“The winds are in our favour. I am sure we’ll be successful.”

“I am sure we will.”

“Have you been on many hunting trips before, Sire?”

“Yes, the late Queen, ___’s mother, took me on trips the moment I began serving as her knight.”

“Huh. I sometimes forget that you and the Queen shared adolescence with each other. I would never dare to call her by her name, but it must be common to you.”

Jimin tenses his jaw for a moment. It stopped being common when you and he both passed your second decade on this earth. Before then, you and he always addressed each other with the other’s name. You played together, danced together, ate at the same table and called each other like two childhood friends. But as age changed you and him, your different ranks became so painfully obvious to both of you. You grew up to be the Princess and future Queen of Windfell, while Jimin stayed a common knight. But even as your name stopped being a common thing for Jimin, you and he never grew apart. Age just tied you tighter together until your husband died and you asked for time. The cliff between you and him had never been that big before and Jimin is aching.

“Yes”, he presses out with a heavy heart, “yes, it was common once.”

“I see. You seem to care a lot for her, Sire.”

Jimin sneaks a glance at the knight.

“As someone, who watched her grow up to be the Queen she is these days, can care about her. Yes.”

“This is good, Sire”, the knight says and takes a deep breath, “the winds are on our sides, I can smell it.”

Jimin relaxes his shoulders now that the conversation shifted back to something less nerve wrecking. One wrong word and he could destroy what you and he built. He glances at you. That is, if fate hadn’t already destroyed it.

The hunting party reaches a clearing, gathering in a small circle so you could converse. Jimin places himself next to you, scanning his eyes over your surroundings.

“We shall go in five groups so we can cover more ground”, you order, “I shall take Lord Frail and we shall meet back here once the sun moved past this mountain.”

The hunting party looks at the high mountain in the distance. The sun will take some time to pass the mountain peak.

“Understood.”

“Very well, take two guards each and be careful not to get hurt. We have seen enough death this year”, you say and turn your horse, looking into Jimin’s eyes, “I want you to come with me.”

“My Queen”, he says, nodding his head. He waves his hand so the knight, who talked to him, follows as well and then your small group is already off.

The hunt turns out to be less painful as Jimin imagined it to be. And it was Lord Frail’s fault. Your small group had put some distance between the party and the group when he broke the silence.

“You spoke of death this year. Have you lost someone, your highness?”

Jimin almost cursed at the stupid man, but stayed silent, looking at your face instead. Shock, anger, disbelief. It all washed over your features upon being asked such a tactless question.

“Did you truly just ask me that?” you press out angrily, “I lost my husband but two months ago.”

“Oh yes! Oh how stupid of me! That is why I am here!” Lord Frail laughs, “please forgive me, I am quite forgetful in my old age.”

“Yes, you seem to be”, you say and turn your head away from him. It was clear to Jimin that you were furious.

“The weather seems to be on our side today, wouldn’t you agree?” Lord Frail continued the conversation as if nothing happened.

“Yes, indeed it is”, you answered each of his questions coldly.

“It is already long into the year, but the autumn takes its time this year. I am quite pleased with it. My old joints do not agree with the cold.”

“That is awful.”

“Yes, yes indeed it is. However, colder weather also means more frequent baths. I do not believe in bathing for cleanliness, but I enjoy warming my old bones in a bath once the weather is cold.”

“I couldn’t even tell that you do not believe in baths, my Lord.”

Jimin has to bite down on his tongue in order not to laugh. The sarcasm drips from your voice.

“Of course, of course”, Lord Frail runs his eyes up and down your body, “do you enjoy baths, Your Highness?” he asks and the implications are obvious in his voice.

Jimin almost drew his sword on him, sending him a deathly glare over your shoulder.

“Yes I do.”

Jimin looks at you in surprise. Why would you say that?

“I prefer to take them alone.”

Jimin relaxes again.

“Oh, ohuohuo”, Lord Frail laughs, “you are a jester, Your Highness.”

“Hahaha”, you practically pronounce your laughter, “I am indeed. A fucking jester.”

“Forgive me?” Lord Frail gasps.

You look away, studying the trees, “nothing”, you murmur and roll your shoulders, “we should split up. I believe that I heard a hog along this path. You should check it out, Lord Frail. I will take this path down along this stream.”

“But shouldn’t we-”

You do not give him time to finish his sentence and then you have already turned your horse and nudged it into a full sprint.

“Hya! Hya!” you encourage it.

Jimin follows you close by, keeping a careful watch on you because a sense of recklessness surrounds you.

“Slow down!” he calls out, “there is a slippery bridge coming!”

He knows that it is slippery because the ground never dries in these forests and nature has grown over the stone bridge and made it slippery. You and he took this path countless times before. Up until now these forests witnessed nothing but good memories between you and him. 

“My Queen, slow down!” he tells you.

You are too fast, speeding up on the last meters.

“___ no!” Jimin screams and watches with horror as you leap over the small stream. He tugs his horse into a stop, gasping for air as he tries to recover from the shock.

You slow the horse down on the other side, turning it skilfully. Your face is glowing from your skin catching the fog, the creases between your brows disappeared.

“Did you see that?” you call out to him, smiling, “I managed this so easily.”

“Yes and almost killed me from fright in the process”, Jimin says, trotting over the bridge.

You laugh, “nothing happened. You worry too much.”

“Worrying is my duty, of course I do”, he says, joining your side.

You snicker. You and he have a comfortable tempo with your horses, swaying from side to side naturally. You take a deep breath, lifting your head.

“I haven’t ran like this in ages. It felt good to do.”

“I worried that you might hurt yourself.”

“Wasn’t I the one to teach you how to ride?” you ask in a chuckle, “you should trust in me more.”

“Of course you taught me, but I also remember the countless times where you ran recklessly and fell.”

“Indeed and yet I never hurt myself.”

“I remember differently. You cried each time you fell.”

“This is a lie and you know that”, you say, reaching over to slap his arm gently.

Jimin laughs with you, reaching over to slap your arm right back.

“I don’t lie.”

You nudge him again, “yes, you do. You liar.”

You and he laugh together and in this moment it felt as if you were fourteen of age again, laughing in the forests after an afternoon of mischief. You and he exchange a look. It was clear to each of you that you thought the same. Growing up is cruel when it meant that two friends of mutual respect have to act as if one was more important in society than the other.

You break the eye contact first, taking a deep breath. Jimin twists the reigns, swallowing down the heavy lump in his throat.

“I cannot stand Lord Frail”, you confess.

“I could tell. You cursed.”

“You heard that?” you laugh, throwing your head back.

It has been too long since Jimin last saw you laugh so honestly. It fills his heart with happiness and so he finds himself laughing with you.

“Oh, I couldn’t help myself. He angered me so much”, you are still laughing as you speak, shaking your head in disbelief, “I mean, who in their right mind forgets something as detrimental as my husband’s death? That is the very reason why I agreed to this charade in the first place.”

“As you said, he’s not right in the mind. He doesn’t believe in baths.”

“Yes, one couldn’t smell this at all.”

You and Jimin laugh and it felt so good to do. Life was correct right now. Life wasn’t cruel because you and he could laugh together.

“Oh, how wonderful”, you end the laugh with a soft swipe under your eyes as if to dry your tears.

“You know”, Jimin begins.

“Mhm?” you hum, granting him a warm look.

“Jinus made me think of us and how long we have known each other already. How long has it been? Fifteen years?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen?”

You nod your head, “we were eleven when I found you on the streets of your village. Remember? You were covered in ash and threatened to beat me with a stick.”

Jimin laughs, “I did! Oh, I forgot.”

You laugh with him, “but you changed your mind once I brought you food. Remember?”

“Of course I remember. I was starving and scared. I wouldn’t have been able to beat you.”

“Oh, I was aware. You looked weak.”

You and Jimin laugh. The forest paths fill with sunlight and the sweet scent of resin. Neither he nor you had noticed until now, how much sunlight fell down on the earth today.

“But we helped you grow strong, didn’t we?”

“Yes, you really did. I found my home with you.”

“Oh”, you let out, exchanging a sheepish look with him.

“Forgive me”, he whispers.

“Don’t worry”, you assure him quietly.

The sunlight dies down again. The scent of resin gets less.

You slow down your horses as the path melts into a small clearing. You jump off the horse. Jimin does the same. You and he choose two small trees to secure your horses on. Equipped with your bow and his sword, you leave the path to wander through the denser forest instead. He is by your side because right now, it is just the two of you and there is no societal rule keeping you apart.

“I apologise for what I said”, Jimin says.

“Don’t apologise”, you assure him, giving him a warm yet yearning look, “I feel glad that you found a home here. Life wouldn’t be the same without you”, you tell him and it is the first time in weeks where you show him that you cared for him. Jimin swallows down his overwhelming emotions to instead give you a smile.

When you retort it, he takes a step closer to you, brushing his finger against your hand. When you don’t pull away, he reaches for you truly and intertwines his fingers with you. You give him a squeeze instinctively.

“Fuck”, you whisper, looking away, “you have to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Reminding me what I feel for you”, you say.

“I won’t ever stop doing this”, he says, eliciting a small laugh from you.

You shake your head, looking at him with fond eyes.

“You are too stubborn.”

“I know”, Jimin says and tugs you closer. You let him, falling into him while he places his hands on your waist. You and he stop in your tracks. Ferns surround you. The sunlight breaks through the trees and illuminates his features beautifully.

You want to kiss him. You want to cup his cheeks and trace his features. You want to call him yours and love him openly.

Seventeen years. There is no constant in your life which has been with you for as long as Jimin has. There is no person in this world who knows you as well as Jimin does. In front of everyone else you have to pretend, to act a certain way, to hide parts of yourself. But not in front of Jimin. There is no person who makes you feel more like yourself than he. 

And there is no person you want to be with more than him. 

He moves in, nudging your cheek with his nose to test the waters. You close your eyes because you couldn’t bear to look at him. 

“Jimin please”, you whisper, exhaling deeply as you move your head away slightly. You look at him even if it is difficult.

“It’s been weeks.”

“We had to go longer than this in the past.”

“But this is different.”

“Jimin, why can’t you-”

A blood curling scream interrupts you before the situation could escalate into a fight. You and Jimin look at where it came from.

“Did you hear this as well?”

“I did.”

“Help! Help!”

You and he exchange a look and spring into a sprint. The fight lies forgotten for now.

You reach your horses quickly, working skilfully to mount them and gallop off. You and Jimin ran together and rode horses next to each other ever since you were children. You taught him how to ride a horse and he taught you how to climb a tree. You didn’t even need words to find perfect synchronisation in your jumps and gallops because acting like a team has been a part of you ever since you were children.

The owner of the screams turns out to be Lord Frail. Covered in muddy water from the stream and without a horse or guard in sight.

“Lord Frail, what happened?” you gasp, slowing down your horse carefully.

“The foolish horse slipped on this bridge and threw me off! It ran off without me!”

You and Jimin exchange a look. What a fool.

“How terrible. Did you hurt yourself, Lord Frail?” you ask without honesty in your voice.

“Of course I did! Look!” he shows off the small graze on his elbow.

Jimin snorts, hiding his laughter behind his hand. You send him a warning look, fighting the toughest battle in trying not to laugh as well.

“How terrible. Where is your guard?”

“I sent him off to get the cursed animal. Horse stew should be made with it! Foolish horse.”

“I am sure that it merely startled”, you tell him and send Jimin a look. He retorts it. He thinks the same. Of course someone like Lord Frail would blame the horse and not his own inability to ride.

Lord Frail stomps his foot.

“So what now? Should I walk?”

You take a deep breath in order not to curse at him.

“Of course not”, you say with a faked smile, “Jimin, give Lord Frail your horse.”

Jimin tenses his jaw, “yes, my Queen”, he says and gets off. He leads his horse to the clumsy man and presses the reins into his hands roughly. The man seems confused at the dark look he receives from the knight, but doesn’t say anything. 

He merely points at the ground.

“You know what to do.”

Jimin considers drawing his sword and slicing this idiot’s belly open. But he doesn’t, instead he gets on all fours so the clumsy sack can climb on his horse. He presses into Jimin’s back painfully, forcing him to growl angrily. It goes unnoticed by the man as he is too busy yapping about how much taller this horse is and that it was too good for a knight.

Jimin stands back up, cleaning off the dirt from his clothes aggressively while his eyes murdered the man. 

“Now where to next?” Lord Frail asks, sitting proudly on the horse which you gave Jimin after he became a knight.

“The castle. I grew rather cold”, you say dryly, studying Jimin with guilty eyes.

“Cold you say? That is a bother. Let’s go then”, Lord Frail says and looks at Jimin, “I assume he walks. Oh, ohuohuo how tragic”, he says and rides off with snickers leaving him.

Jimin feels hot in anger. Perhaps if he threw his sword just right, he could knock this twat off his horse without killing him.

The sound of hooves beside him rips him back to reality. He turns and lifts his head. You are shielding the sun from him, standing right beside him and looking down from your horse.

“I understand. I’m walking”, he hisses and sets off. 

He gets as far as three steps and then he realises that you are riding next to him. He stops again, looking up at you.

You scoot to the front of your saddle. 

“I do not want you to walk.”

Softness washes over his features.

“Come up here”, you tell him, nodding your head behind you.

“Very well.”

Jimin gets on your horse without hesitation. The saddle is built in a way so that you and he could share it with some discomfort. It results in his middle to press against your behind. You rub against each other with every step the horse takes. You try to ignore how it makes you feel, while Jimin tries not to close his eyes.

“Is this comfortable for you?” you ask.

“Yes”, Jimin places his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands run up and down your corseted waist. His warmth seeps deep into your skin, “it’s comfortable”, he speaks softly and steals a kiss to your neck.

Lord Frail is enough steps ahead of you that he doesn’t notice it.

Your heart is beating unbearably. Jimin is so close to you, touching you and sharing warmth. His neck kiss still lingers on your skin, even now that he is resting his chin on your shoulder again. You brought yourself into this situation, but it is still almost impossible to bear. 

“What if he sees us?” you whisper.

“I truly wish that you wouldn’t consider this twat as a husband”, Jimin ignores your warnings, staring holes into Lord Frail’s head. 

“I’m not. It wasn’t mannerly of him to use you as a stool. I apologise. He is indeed a twat.” 

“Mhm, one that stinks as well. I will have to buy a new saddle and burn the other.”

He makes you laugh. Loudly. Lord Frail looks over his shoulder. Jimin was thankfully quick enough to change his position so he wasn’t resting his chin on your shoulder and his arms around you. His hands rest on your hips now, hidden from view in your coat. The touch is heavy on your skin, seeping into your deepest fibres. 

“That is a peculiar view. I thought he would walk.”

“It is quite far to the castle. I take great care of my knights.”

“I can see that. He’s an ill-mannered lad. He sent me dirty looks.”

“That is merely how he looks when he is on duty.”

Lord Frail looks at Jimin and his darkened eyes. He looks away again, fixing his collar. 

“I see. Well, I don’t like it.”

“If you know yourself to behave, you mustn’t worry.” 

“I am a very mannerly fella.”

“I doubt that, Lord Frail”, you say, masking the poison with a laugh, “after all, you used my knight as a stepping stool.”

“Oh well, yes”, Lord Frail laughs because he thought the situation to be a laughing matter, “he is sturdier than I thought.”

“You misunderstand me, Lord Frail. I wasn’t jesting. You do not use my knights as stepping stools.”

Lord Frail stops laughing. He looks at you with widened eyes. The smile from your face was gone. You weren’t jesting. 

“My apologies, Your Highness”, he presses out even if it clearly hurts his pride. 

“I am not the one to apologise to.”

Lord Frail looks at Jimin. The dark haired knight is carrying triumph on his features. 

“His name is Jimin. Say it with respect”, you say coldly.

Lord Frail flares his nostrils and opens his mouth.

“My apologies, Sir Jimin”, he mumbles, frowning in distaste afterwards.

“Very well”, you say and click your tongue, telling your horse to speed up with a gentle nudge of your feet. 

The horse listens well, galloping off so you could put some distance between you and the ill-mannered lord. He should know that he wasted his chance. 

Galloping on a horse with Jimin behind you is difficult. Not only because sharing a saddle minimises the support you have, but also because he is rubbing against you. The thick, sturdy leather of his pants against your own thick leather thankfully masks some of the sensation, but it was there nonetheless. 

You slow down soon, passing the convoy in a slow trot. You ignore the curious looks people send you, calling out orders instead.

“If one may see a horse without a rider, return it to Lord Frail. The fool lost it!”

“Yes, Your Highness”, they answer you and pretend that seeing your knight ride behind you without any distance between you and him was a normal sight to see. 

“We will ride straight back to the castle. Is Jinus back already?”

“Yes, my Queen he is back with the others.”

“Very well.”

There were two reasons for why you decided to ride to the front. You were the Queen and you needed Lord Frail to know that he lost his spot by your side. And being in the front meant that Jimin couldn’t touch you again. He has been running his hands up and down your hips and thighs ever since you put Lord Frail into his place and it is getting very difficult to concentrate. Thankfully, your riding coat covers his hands from creeping eyes, but you knew that they were there and it is making your thoughts blur. 

“I will assume that your sword needs fixing”, you tell him quietly enough that hopefully only he can hear.

“Mhm yes, my sword needs polishing”, Jimin answers you, sending heat to your face. 

You hide the giggle wanting to escape by covering your mouth, lowering your head for just a second. Jimin squeezes your softness under the coat, chuckling deeply. Even through the thick layer of leather you could feel the strength behind his touch. 

You straighten up, “Jimin, I am serious. Please fix your sword.”

“It is hard to fix when it’s in my pants.”

“Lower your voice”, you hiss. 

“It is hard to fix when it is in my pants”, Jimin whispers, letting the words swirl against your neck.

“I am not jesting.”

“Neither am I.”

You swallow heavily. His touch is unbearable to handle. 

“My Queen”, thankfully – or perhaps sadly – Frigga catches up to your side. Jimin slides his hands from your coat, placing them on your waist instead. He needs to hold on somewhere and this was the most logical place. It isn’t easier to bear. 

“Yes, Frigga?” you ask her, hoping that your breathlessness goes unnoticed. 

“What shall I tell the cooks to prepare tonight now that the hunt bared no fruit?”

“Whatever they find on the markets. I am certain there are lovely fish to buy.”

“Understood. Is Lord Frail staying for dinner?”

“No. No, as a matter of fact I wish to eat dinner in my chambers. I have had enough of dutiful chattering.” 

“I understand”, Frigga looks at Jimin with a sense of knowing in her eyes, “will Jimin bring you dinner?”

The knowing grows. You feel yourself panic. Jimin’s presence behind you feels burdensome. 

“Why would you ask such a thing?” you gasp. 

“Because he always brings you dinner. My Queen, what did you believe that I was saying?” 

“Nothing. I, uhm, nothing. It doesn’t matter”, you stutter. 

Frigga studies you and Jimin together. 

“I understand”, she says and slows down her horse to put some distance between you and her.

The rest of the ride back was silent until Lord Frail gallops to the front clumsily.

“Your Highness, I must ask for clarification. Am I staying for dinner?”

“No, you are not.”

“Is it because I used your knight as a stepping stool?”

“It is because you are ill-mannered and quite frankly, you reek.”

Jimin laughs quietly behind you, squeezing your waist. You could swear that he rolled his hips against you. You bite down on your tongue to distract yourself.

“Oh that is”, Lord Frail searches for words. In the end, he decides on scrunching his nose in distaste and leaving with a mumbled, “manner less wench.”

“What did you just call her?” Jimin hisses, trying to draw his sword.

“Let him be”, you say, “he’s just a lord. His house consists of him and his servants.”

Jimin sends Lord Frail one last dark look and then he won’t ever see him again.

The ride home continues to be silent from then on and Lord Frail will leave the castle without receiving another word from you.

The horse Lord Frail borrowed from your castle waits by the stables once you return. You greet it with pets behind its ears and apologies for having to carry someone as smelly as Lord Frail. The horse seems to care rather little about what you say. You leave it by the stables, making your way to your chambers.

Jimin follows you.

You turn when you realise his presence.

“Why are you following me?”

Jimin glances down at his crotch. Your eyes follow his line of sight.

“I think you misunderstood something. I am leaving to get changed.”

“So am I”, Jimin says, taking a step closer.

“Jimin, please.”

“Riding with you messed with my mind”, he says, closing in on you until he could touch your waist.

“I could feel it.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I keep thinking about you and being so close to you, it reminded me how much I want to be with you.”

You are so weak in his presence. You truly wanted to keep distance to him, to give yourself time to think and to perhaps give him a chance to move on and yet you are back where you started, craving nothing but his presence. You miss him when you wake, when you fall asleep and when you see wonderful stuff you know he would love to see. Sharing such a laughter-filled afternoon with him, having him close as you rode and being reminded of how far you and he go back, reignited every single flame you tried to kill. 

“Jimin, I…” you begin, placing your hands on his chest. His heart is racing just as quickly as yours does. 

Jimin closes in, lowering his eyes halfway as he gazes at your lips. You inch closer, getting lost in the view of his lips. 

“Oh, there you are my Queen”, Frigga says, stopping in her steps as he watches you and Jimin scramble to break apart.

“Are you feeling better now, my Queen? Do you still feel weak in the knees?” Jimin lies, holding your waist.

“Yes, I feel better. Thank you for catching me, Sire”, you lie, meeting Frigga’s eyes, “oh Frigga, how lucky that you are here. Might you help me out of my clothes? I suddenly feel terribly weak from riding.”

Frigga clears her throat, keeping her thoughts to herself. She hurries to your side and supports you, taking over for Jimin this way. She leads you away from him.

“Yes, my Queen. Shall I send for the physician?” she asks.

“No, no I am sure that food and something to drink will help me greatly.”

“I understand, then we will…”

The rest of the conversation dies out in Jimin’s ears as you and Frigga cross the corner and therefore disappear from his sight.

Jimin takes a deep breath, touching his chest where his heart races. He doesn’t feel bad, he feels hopeful. Of course he is upset that you and he got interrupted, but if Frigga hadn’t interrupted you and him, he would have been close to you again.  You leaned in for a kiss. You haven’t given up on him yet. He giggles to himself, doing a small jump before he hurries away in happy skips. Today wasn’t as terrible as he thought it to be.

He will wash up and then wait for you in the hallways. Knowing your traditions, you will leave your chambers for a book from the library and that is when he will catch you again. Yes, that is his plan for the remaining day.

Jimin eats food in the dining hall with the others. He listens to Jinus talk about how awful Lord Frail’s company was and in return, Jimin tells him how he had to act as his stepping stool. The two knights proceed to call the lord many names, which will not be documented in these writings but one can imagine of what nature they were. After dinner, he still had to partake in an hour of training, but different than on other days, Jimin felt good. He felt happy and hopeful and terribly excited for what the night will bring.

Jimin tells the knights to have a good sleep after training and he makes his way to the library. He meets Frigga and your maids on his way, greeting them with a bright smile. Frigga’s eyes keep lingering on him, but Jimin ignores it, continuing his way to the library. He won’t be witness to the knowing gasp Frigga releases once she realises where his path will take him.

The library is empty during this hour of the day, but Jimin doesn’t let it intimidate him. He knows where to find you. You particularly enjoy the cultural section and always find yourself lost in the books. Tonight is no different. Dressed in a simple night gown and with your hair vast of jewellery, you stand by the cultural section with a book in your hand.

Jimin increases his steps, smiling so brightly his cheeks hurt. He begins running those last few steps. He cannot wait to be with you again.

You turn your head at the sound of steps in sync with Jimin sweeping you off your feet and pressing you against the shelf. You wanted to scream in shock, but don’t get to as Jimin claims your lips in a deep kiss.

The book falls to the ground, your lips tremble against his'. Your surprised sounds get swallowed by him.

Jimin rolls his hips into you and sighs, sucking on your lower lip as his heart races in his chest. He missed your kisses so much. He missed surprising you with them and how you always clutch him especially tightly as a result.

Tonight however, your desperate touch doesn’t come. Tonight, your hand presses itself between your lips as you begin wiggling in his hands until he can’t help but drop you.

“I don’t understand”, he confesses.

“Why would you do this? I gave you no permission”, you spit, carrying anger on your features.

“I, I thought that, that. You love when I surprise you here.”

“You have no idea what I want. All you care about is yourself”, you spit and push him away.

Jimin stumbles back, hitting the opposite bookshelf. His heart aches in his chest. Your words cut so very deep.

You turn and run away.

“I don’t understand. Why are you saying this?” he gets out, running after you, “my Queen what happened? Why are you acting this way?”

“I never should have come here. I’m such a fool”, you murmur to yourself.

“My Queen”, Jimin insists, touching your wrist gently, “what happened? I’m sorry for surprising you, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

You turn around, looking at him with glassy eyes. Jimin closes in on you, carrying honest regret in his eyes.

“What’s the matter? Is it me? I’m sorry for acting like this.”

“She asked me about you, Jimin”, you get out with fear in your voice, “she knows what we are”, you add and continue your way back to your chambers.

“What? Wait, what?” Jimin stutters, “wait. What are you saying?” he asks as he begins running after you.

“Go away, Jimin”, you tell him, increasing your steps.

“Who asked about me?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We are so wrong.”

“Who asked about me?” Jimin insists with increasing panic in his chest. He doesn’t like how you talk or how you act.

“Frigga. She saw that we touched each other and asked what it meant.”

“And what did you say?”

“Please, leave me alone. Please”, you beg, leaving the library. It isn’t far to your chambers anymore.

“My Queen”, Jimin follows you, “my Queen, please.”

You increase your steps. Tonight is not a good night for this. You feel weakened in spirit and crave his gentle touch. Frigga asked about him. She asked if perhaps you felt more for him than just friendship. You didn’t know what to say and so you sent her away. Now you are frightened. You do not want the public to find out and therefore shame Jimin. You can’t be responsible for him losing his honour. You are so scared and the worst of this situation was, that you craved his hugs as remedy.

“My Queen, please allow me but a moment”, he begs, taking one step where you take two. He knows these hallways well enough to be aware that he doesn’t have long until you can flee into your chambers, “please just a fleeting moment. I do not require much time.”

“You should go to bed, Jimin. It is too late”, you tell him, taking a sharp turn to the left. Your chambers are so close to reach.

“___ beloved, please.”

You falter in your steps. Your name from his lips stole your ability to walk. No one knows that he calls you beloved, whispered when he is deep inside you or gasped when you sink down on him. It happened naturally, he didn’t realise at first that these syllables fell from his tongue until you kissed him deeper than you ever had before and stole his breath in the process. Ever since then, your name followed by a term of endearment leaves him during moments most intimate. To be called this way right now, here in the dark, cold hallway where longing gets so painful to bear, robs you of every step you wanted to take. Jimin stops in order not to run into you. You don’t turn, but you also don’t run away anymore. You are breathing heavily, balling your hands into fists.

Jimin steps closer and brushes his hand down your arm. You tense up, biting your own lower lip to stop it from trembling. His touch returns warmth to your skin. Warmth, you missed like lungs miss air and plants miss sunlight. 

“Please stop pushing me away. We can solve this together”, he speaks quietly, sharing a secret only meant for you. 

A step closer. 

His calloused hand closes around your elbow. You close your eyes. To be touched by him is the most painful of dreams. Why must he feel so good? 

“I know that you are hurting. Please allow me take care of you”, he whispers, looking at your neck with longing, “allow me to ease the aches. Like I always did.” 

You want to speak, but can’t. You can’t form words as the only word your tongue craves to produce is his name.

His arm lays itself around your waist and tugs you into his chest. 

His heart is hammering against his ribcage. His warmth engulfs you in burning flames. Tears escape your eyes and leave cold trails down your cheeks. 

His hand closes on your waist and squeezes. The touch digs into the deepest parts of you. It is so familiar and yet so foreign. A comfort estranged because of the distance you forced yourselves to be in. 

“I miss you”, Jimin whispers with trembling emotion in his voice and brushes his nose against your neck. Vanilla and honey. He missed your scent so much. 

You miss him as well. You miss his laughter, his voice, his embrace and the tenderness of his kisses. You miss him when you fall asleep, you miss him when you wake up and you miss him during the day. The grief for your late husband is only for the public, for the true reason you are grieving is your lost love with Jimin. You ache without him. 

“It’s late Sire, go to bed”, you force the words out, stepping out of the hug even if you didn’t want to. 

“My Queen…”

You leave without looking back because if you did, you would have fallen around his neck and begged him to stay. You can’t allow yourself to give in.

Jimin doesn’t follow you that night and you cry yourself to sleep. 

He is talking. He should be the one asking questions and listening, but instead he has been talking about himself for the past hour. His name was Landor. Another suitor begging for a chance to be your second husband. He promises you lands in the north and strong children in the belly. Both of which sounded terrible to you. 

He is currently laughing at one of his fooleries. You don’t think it entertaining and so you don’t laugh. He snorts as his way of stopping his bone twisting laughter, looking at you with self-assured confidence. He must think himself to be the most entertaining of fellow. He probably hadn’t even realised that you didn’t join his laughter.

“Thank you Sire, I shall send word with my decision”, you tell him and send him away with a flick of the wrist.

“My Queen, I await the splendid news with longing in my heart”, Landor says and leaves thinking that he completely charmed you. He won’t ever receive word from you. 

The doors close and so you turn to your advisor.

“How much yapping do I still have to bear?” you ask her.

“There are still six contestants left, my Queen”, Frigga tells you and shows you the list. You skim over the names. None seems familiar to you and none catches your attention. Because none formed the name of the man you truly yearn for. You catch yourself looking at him.

He is standing behind Frigga, staring at the closed throne room doors with a stern expression. To others he seemed concentrated, but you know that he was upset. The tension in his jaw is familiar to you. You know that it only tortures his muscles when he is upset. He had this habit ever since he was a boy and on many nights, you soothed it away with soft touches to his jaw.

Jimin’s eyes flit to you, meeting your gaze for but a moment before you quickly look away. Your heart races unbearably. He caught you staring.

“Six, I see”, you press out, touching your own chest in hopes of calming down your heart, “bring in the next contestant.”

The doors open. You hope that it is enough to distract the people in the room and most importantly to distract Jimin. You glance at him again, feeling your heart twist in your chest. He is still looking at you, carrying heartbreaking longing in his dark brown eyes. The longing grows when your gazes meet, the tension in his jaw riffles and tightens.

You seemed tired today. Jimin felt tired as well. He didn’t find a lot of sleep last night, repeating what happened in the dark hallways over and over again. He tried to find answers to understand why you keep pushing him away. He fell asleep without finding what he looked for. Even now, as he looks into your eyes, he can’t find it.

You are plagued by thoughts of your own. You miss him. You miss his embrace, his kiss and his hands which fit so perfectly in yours. You miss him.

“My Queen!”

The voice of the next contestant rips you back to reality. You break your eyes away from Jimin and look at the man before you.

The next contestant for your hand in marriage was taller than Landor. His hair was grey and a lot thinner already and he seemed to have used some sort of animal grease to smudge it back. You scrunch your nose at the view, already hating the interaction. 

“My Queen!” he speaks loudly and bows deeply, “my name is Sir Kanneth from Kanneth Height and I am here to ask for your hand.”

“Yes I am aware. Tell me why I should consider taking you as my husband.”

“I shall tell you through song, my Queen!” he says and slides a lute from his back.

You bite back your exhausted sigh. He is one of those men. Annoying peacocks who believe their mediocre singing and terrible song writing will impress you. You listen to the man sing about his great adventures, wishing that it was over soon.

No voice could impress you, not when you know how Jimin sings. He doesn’t sing often, mostly during quiet moments of the night when the candles are almost burned down and you feel relaxed in his arms, but whenever he does, you find yourself wishing for time to slow down just so you could listen to him longer. You glance at Jimin again. He is furrowing his brows as he is forced to listen to the contestant sing. He turns his head, meeting your gaze. 

The terrible melodies drown out in your ears as you get lost in Jimin’s eyes. If you got up and ran away with him, would your life be happy?

“Wonderful! Oh how wonderful!” the cheers and applause of the court rips you back to your sad reality.

Sir Kanneth finished his song, bowing his head at you. You lift your hands and begin clapping.

“Impressive”, you say coldly, carrying no honesty in the statement.

Sir Kanneth leaves the throne room twenty minutes later. He won’t receive word either.

Neither will the third nor fourth contestant of the day. The fifth one enters the throne room, bearing gifts. Foreign food, which seem to be of his home country. He appears to be of your age and carries himself well. His ruby hair was long and reflected the light and his clothes were made of the finest of silks. You watch him with interested eyes.

He bows.

“Thranduin is my name. I come from far, far in the west”, he bows deeply, “my dearest condolences for your incredible loss, Your Highness. I too lost my first wife to the seas and I understand your grief.”

“Thank you for your well wishes”, you tell him, running your eyes up and down his body, “you don’t look like my other suitors.”

“Oh no”, he laughs and you think his laugh to be passable, “but when I got news that Queen ___ of the beautiful country of Windfell seeks a new husband, I had to get on my dragon and see you.”

“You have dragons in your country?”

“Yes indeed we do. We receive our companions once we pass two decades. Smogwyn is his name and he is a wonderful companion. I could introduce you to him if you wish.”

You don’t think that conversation with Thranduin is terrible or boring. As a matter of fact, he intrigues you, which hurts one person in the room more than anyone else. Jimin, stood behind you and with a careful eye on you, he stands witness to the laughable attempts of charming you the other men perform. He celebrates whenever one of your suitors gets send away by you, he judges whenever one says ridiculous stuff and he suffers now that you are standing up from your chair to descend the stairs.

“I would love to meet your companion, Sire. I have always dreamed of seeing a dragon.”

“Then I shall introduce you to him. I promise he doesn’t bite.”

You laugh and while Thranduin seems delighted, Jimin almost bites his own teeth out from tensing his jaw so tightly.

His agonies continue as his duties drag him with you. He follows behind while you and Thranduin talk. He clutches the handle of his sword tightly while his mind produced the most sinister of thoughts. If he was quick enough, he could cut Thranduin’s head off and throw his body over the edge of the railing. The cliff would be high enough and the sea punishing enough to take care of the rest. Naturally, he doesn’t give in to his thoughts even if every laugh you spill because of this stranger makes him wish he did.

Smogwyn, the dragon, is outside the capital gates. Down the windy road which leads to the rocky beaches of the capital. People had already gathered on top the walls to look at the foreign animal. The dragon covers an impressive amount of land, dragging a gasp out of you.

“By the heavens, this animal is enormous!”

“Indeed he is, eventhough he is still growing.”

“He is? Oh how incredible. How big will he be once he stops growing?”

“About twice his current size.”

“Oh, I am awestruck. This is the most unbelievable thing I have ever seen.”

“Shall I call him to us?”

“Oh heavens I am a little frightened, but yes call him.”

Thranduin whistles with the help of his fingers.

The red scaled dragon lets out a grumble so deep the earth shakes and lifts his head. He takes a step where humans would have to take seven, shaking the water each time he connects his clawed foot with the ground.

You are standing on the high bridge which connects the capital with the Queendom’s many islands. The dragon reaches above the bridge, taking up your entire vision as he moves his head close.

You squeak in frightened excitement, stumbling back. Your hand closes around Jimin’s in instinct. His heart stops in his chest, his stomach clenches. You haven’t noticed that you are holding his hand as you are mesmerised by the dragon. Thranduin hasn’t noticed either, he is too preoccupied with petting his scaled companion.

“Oh, this is frightening”, you say and squeak in laughter.

The dragon moves his head, taking in your scent.

“Oh heavens”, you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut as the dragon’s nose stubs your body. He breathes in and exhales, blowing warm winds around your body and Jimin’s. The dust on the ground swirls, your dress sways aggressively. The air smells like glowing coal. But everything Jimin can take in, is your hand squeezing his’ and your back pressing against his chest as you flee from the dragon.

The dragon grumbles and lifts his head.

“Oh this was thrilling!” you exclaim, letting go of Jimin’s hand to clap. You jump on the spot, beaming at Thranduin, “a dragon smelled me! Oh Sire, I am bouncing in excitement. This was incredible!”

Jimin balls his hand to a tight fist, staring at your glowing face with pain in his heart. You gave him so much happiness with the touch and yet you haven’t even realised that you did it.

“He seems to enjoy your company, Your Highness”, Thranduin says, “I must say that I share this feeling with him.”

“Oh dear”, you fluster.

Jimin tenses his jaw, gripping the handle of his sword. He would most definitely be eaten by the dragon if he tried anything right now, but it would be worth it. This man angers him beyond imagination.

You step closer to Thranduin.

“May I touch him? Please just once.”

“Of course. Give me your hand, I shall guide you to him.”

And so Jimin has to watch as you place your hand into the palm of a stranger. This is the hand he held mere moments ago and now you are giving it away. Jimin forces down tears and turns his back to you. He can’t bear to watch this any longer. He can hear you squeal and squeak behind him as Thranduin, the twat, guides your hand over the rough scales of the dragon. He can hear you laugh and giggle as Thranduin calls out your beauty once again. And he can hear you talk with great vigour in your voice as you ask more questions about the dragons and the customs of Thranduin’s country.

He doesn’t look at you until it was time to leave for the castle again. And while he puts more distance between you and him, you seem to walk closer to Thranduin.

You stop by the throne room doors.

“Will you stay in Windfell for long, Sire?” you ask Thranduin.

“I can stay for as long as you wish me to, Your Highness. I have many more stories to tell”, Thranduin says, making you smile.

“Then you shall stay for dinner. I want to know everything you have to tell and try the foods you brought.”

“As you wish, Your Highness. I shall stay for dinner. I am certain that my country’s cuisine will bring you great enjoyment. Food is very important in our culture.”

“You have me interested, Sire. I enjoy food a great lot.”

“It seems that we share yet another similarity, Your Highness”, he says and makes you laugh. 

Truly, Jimin wishes that he could slice him. 

The sixth contestant of the day gets sent home with the promise that tomorrow will be another day, while Thranduin gets led to one of the empty guest quarters to prepare for dinner.

You hurry to your own chambers, followed by Frigga and Jimin. While Frigga helps you with getting dressed behind your privacy screen, Jimin is destined to stand by your door. He tries not to, but still looks at you. The privacy screen feels like mockery to him. Your naked body is a landscape most familiar to Jimin and yet you hide away from him. He is aware why you do it, as his explorations were secret to even Frigga, and he also knows that he has no right to your body even if you and he were husband and wife, but he still feels mocked today. Your friendly nature with Thranduin made him irrationally jealous and upset.

“He seemed to have caught your attention, my Queen”, Frigga says, twisting a knife in Jimin’s heart with her words.

“Oh yes, his dragon is most interesting”, you say, “I hope to hear many more stories about them.”

“My Queen, you make it sound as if everything which was intriguing about the man was his dragon”, Frigga jokes and laughs.

You falter for a moment. Frigga can’t see it as she is busy tying your dress at the back, but Jimin can. The privacy screen is low enough that your heads are still poking out. Jimin watches how a sort of realisation washes over you and how embarrassment replaces it.

“Well, I”, you let out a breathy laugh, lowering your head as you shake it, “you speak of silly things, Frigga.”

Frigga giggles, “my apologies. You know that I jest way too much.”

You laugh, nodding your head. But the realisation still remains on your features.

Jimin stares at it with a racing heart. Perhaps he looked at the entire situation with incorrect eyes. Perhaps Thranduin was never exciting to you, but the dragon and stories he brings. Perhaps the man will ruin his chances with you just as all the other men did. A dragon and little stories will only be interesting to you that long before you realise that the man itself won’t bring you satisfaction.

Your eyes flit to Jimin and meet his gaze and for the first time today, he feels confident in holding eye contact. You break it sooner than him, touching the side of your own neck. You don’t look at him again while Jimin feels his lips curl into a triumphant smile. Your eyes said everything he needed to know. You just lost interest in the man.

Fate however soon shows him that it wasn’t as easy as he thought it to be. You seem entirely entranced by the man’s every word during dinner. You look at him, laugh at his jokes, ask for more stories and once dinner ends, you ask him if he felt in the mood for honey wine in the castle gardens. And while Jimin wanted to follow you as your guard, you told him that he was free for the night, leaving him behind as you left for wine with Thranduin. Jimin felt so angered by the entire situation that he dared to kick the sturdy stone wall when nobody saw him. 

The castle sleeps except for a few night owls still playing card games in the dining halls. They share wine and sweet delicacies of your country. Butter cookies with a pinecone jelly filling. The taste is most exquisite and goes excellent with the honey wine of the castle’s brewery. You drank quite a lot of the honey wine tonight, so much in fact that you try not to let the people see you as you hurry to your bed chambers. It would be beyond humiliating to show yourself in such a state to the public. It is already embarrassing enough that Thranduin had to help you to your feet as you felt too drunk to walk on your own. Speaking of the latter, you left him by his guest quarters, promising him breakfast in the dining hall tomorrow.

Frigga and your maids are asleep by now. You are glad that they are, because you couldn’t bear to hear their teasing comments about your intoxicated state. They would most definitely think your jolly nature to be of love drunk origin, but it wasn’t. You were drunk. Nothing less and nothing more. Thranduin was good company, his stories were thrilling and you loved learning about dragons. He was also very handsome and a scent of what he called a “coconut” surrounded him. But you didn’t find your heart beating faster for him. He felt more like a good friend to you than a potential husband. You were too drunk to think about the meaning of said feelings however, all you knew is that you had a good evening and that you felt ready for bed.

You slip inside your chambers, closing the doors behind you. You use them to catch your balance for a moment, propping your hand against the wood as you take a few deep breaths. You are jolly drunk, by the heavens.

You let a small giggle escape. It has been too long since you last felt that carefree. You missed the feeling so incredibly much.

“Ah heavens”, you let out and turn to hurry to the dressing area. You want to get out of your clothes. They have been torturing you for too long.

It is a rather difficult task to undress. It is already very hard to do alone on a sober day and with the additional help of alcohol, it gets almost impossible. You find yourself sitting down on the floor and undoing the intricate lacing of your dress this way. You also take off your jewellery this way, giggling to yourself because you felt rather silly sitting on the floor. Truly, you feel so entirely carefree tonight.

You abandon your clothes and jewellery on the ground, stepping from behind the privacy screen in nothing but your undergarments. You need to take the hair jewellery out and take care of your skin and then you can finally fall into bed. You stumble past your bed, letting out a loud scream when you see a figure sitting on it. You squint your eyes to see better.

“Jimin?!” you exclaim, stumbling closer, “by heavens, you gave me such a fright! I believed you to be an intruder. Oh dear”, you giggle at first until realisation overcomes you, “why are you in my chambers? Have you always been here? Did you sit in silence like a ghost while I undressed?!”

Jimin nods his head. He is wearing nothing more than a thigh-length sleeping tunic and some comfortable linen pants. His sword is on the mattress beside him and his hair lacks volume from brushing it.

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“You seem drunk”, he ignores your question, scanning his eyes up and down your body.

“Indeed I am. I drank way too much honey wine.”

“I can see that. You shouldn’t drink that much. You’re the queen.”

“Oh come now”, you let out a mocking scoff, “did you truly just say that?”

He nods his head, tightening his jaw.

“This isn’t yours to say.”

“I worry.”

“Well, don’t. It soils my mood.”

Jimin tongues his cheek, lowering his eyes in annoyance.

You break your eyes away from him and walk to your dressing table. You don’t feel as jolly drunk anymore as you did before. As a matter of fact, you feel rather terrible. He was the reason why you drank so much. You wanted to forget him and the burning feelings you harbour for him and seeing him on your bed presented in such an intimate way brought everything, you managed to forget about, back to the surface. You are so irrationally angry at him.

Jimin watches you barely manage to sit down. If the chair wasn’t as sturdy in its balance as it was, you most definitely would have doubled over. 

You begin taking out your hair pearls, doing so with swaying shoulders and lazy eyes. 

Jimin takes a deep breath and gets up from bed. He walks to the dining area of your room and prepares a jug of water for you. The waters in your queendom are as clear as crystal and healing to drink. While other queendoms struggle to find safe drinking water, your queendom lives in abundance. You especially enjoy the taste of it when you wake up in the middle of the night and its temperature feels especially cold on your tongue. 

Jimin places the full jug on the dressing table. You look at it, then at the reflection of him in your mirror. His jaw carried tension.

“Drink it. You will get a headache otherwise”, he tells you. 

“I didn’t ask for water.”

“And I didn’t ask to be treated like shit. It seems we both didn’t get what we asked for.” 

You break your eyes away from him, gulping the water down in an attempt to rid yourself of the painful lump in your throat. 

The silence is suffocating. He keeps staring at you, standing right behind you. You feel so much aching pressure on your heart, struggling to undo the pearls in the back. Jimin nudges your hands away gently and takes over for you. Your eyes meet in the mirror. He is frowning while you can barely keep the eye contact alive. He breaks it first, looking down at your head as he helps you with your hair.

Jimin helped you with your hair on many occasions in the past. He studied as your hair dressers styled it and studied how they prepared it for bed and then one night he asked if he could be the one preparing it for you. You allowed him and ever since that night, he often took care of your hair while you looked at him through the mirror.

To have him take care of you tonight breaks your heart into a million pieces. You are so lonely without him.

Jimin removes the last of your hair pearls, leaning over to place them in the big sea shell on your table. The seas of your queendom were filled with the most wonderful of shells, some even bigger than your head. It is a common occurrence that empty shells wash up at the shores and for the bowl makers of the capital to create the most wonderful bowls and trinkets out of them. Shell bowls and boxes are scattered all throughout your chambers, holding your jewellery and other treasures.

Jimin’s middle presses into your back as he leans over. The sensation steals your air. It ends too soon for your taste, but you know not to reach behind you and pull him closer like you so often did in the past. You shouldn’t do this anymore. As a matter of sad fact, you never should have allowed it to come this far that you began pulling him closer for more.

Jimin picks up the brush which your brush makers fabricated out of shells and natural bristles especially for your hair. It always leaves your hair feeling healthy and Jimin learned how to use it correctly in order to care for you.

It feels so good to have him untangle your hair, but it also makes you ache. He knows you so well and takes such great care of you. You miss him so much.

You reach for the jug of water quickly to distract yourself from your feelings.

“You held my hand today”, Jimin says into the heavy silence. 

You choke on your water, spilling some as you set the jug down hastily. You cough, looking at Jimin again. 

The latter lands gentle slaps to your upper back to get rid of your cough. It helps.

“What are you saying?” you get out, clearing your throat to rid yourself of the last tickles.

“Down by the beach, when the dragon came close. You held my hand.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. And then you gave it away to Thranduin”, Jimin scrunches his nose in jealous disgust, “the only thing this man can bring you, is the stench of dragon and boring stories. Even his food lacked flavour and I am sure he fucks just as bland.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” you gasp, feeling honestly shocked at his harsh words. It is unlike him to allow his dialect to come through.

“Nothing. I am merely saying it how it is.”

“Well, you are incorrect. I shared a wonderful evening with him. He is good company.”

“Good’s just passing in disguise. You deserve more than good company.”

“He has potential to become great company.”

“Of course”, Jimin says and scoffs, turning his back to you to walk back to the bed, “you’re a terrible jester.”

You stand up, looking at him with dark eyes. 

“I felt so jolly tonight. Why must you ruin it like this?”

“Because I’m in misery and I’m selfish and awful enough that I don’t want you to be happy with someone who isn’t me.”

“I see”, you let out and scoff, “you truly are selfish.”

“Yes, indeed I am. I am the most selfish bastard you will ever meet and you know who I learned this from?”

You don’t answer him.

“You. You made me your servant, took my innocence, gave me glimpses of a life with you only to push me away once your joke of a husband spent his time and rotted away and you finally began feeling guilty enough. You are the most selfish person I have ever seen.”

“Why would you say that?” you gasp, feeling yourself tear up.

“Because I am tired of being treated this way by you.”

“Treated this way? You are my knight and nothing more. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Leave you alone? I went from holding you in my arms and feeling your love to being pushed away and treated like vermin by you within the blink of an eye. Tell me how this should make me feel. How I should live with the ache in my heart.”

“You know why I had to push you away.”

“No. No, I don’t because you never gave me an explanation. He died”, Jimin points out at the sea, “and suddenly I wasn’t good enough anymore, because we are both well aware that your horrific futures wouldn’t ever have happened. They were never the reason why you pushed me away. I merely stopped being good enough and I am tired of running after you. Please just give me a reason why I stopped being good enough for you.”

“I do not owe you an explanation, I am your Queen.”

“Yes, you are my Queen, but you are also my best friend and the woman I love and you loved me as well. The least I deserve is an explanation.”

You loved him.

The word hurts.

Loved is incorrect.

You love him.

You still do.

You still love him. You never stopped.

But you have to push him away. You and he are wrong for each other. There are no two souls which are actually so right for each other, but society makes you wrong. In another life where no ranks or duties differentiate you and him, you could be happy. But not here. Not in the real world.

“There is no explanation. I am your queen and you did your duties. I apologise if I made it seem as if there was more behind it.”

Jimin tears up, but continues to talk. His heart aches too much not to. He isn’t rational right now, led by emotions and he needs to say everything which was on his mind.

“Why are you saying this? Why would you lie? Who are you pretending for? It’s just us right now. Why do you pretend to feel nothing for me?”

“I am not pretending. I feel nothing for you.”

Jimin closes the distance between you and him. You stumble back until the edge of the desk digs into your thighs. Jimin acts quickly, lifting you up on the table with such vigour that you make a sound without wanting to. He is between your legs, pressing his middle against your own while his hands are on your waist. You feel short of breath, gulping repeatedly in an attempt to get air back into your lungs.

“Go on tell me that this doesn’t make you feel anything”, Jimin whispers, drawing patterns between your eyes and your lips with his mesmerising gaze, “tell me that this means nothing to you and I will leave you to find unhappiness with a stranger.”

“Jimin I…” you breathe shakily, fighting your eyes as they flit to his lips. You lose the fight. His lips are glistening in the candle lights, looking like rose petals in colour even in the dim room. The scent of his vanilla lip oil meets your nose. You crave his kiss like water “…please.”

“Push me away, ___.”

“Why would you do this to me? Why can’t you listen?”

“Because I can’t give up on you. Not without help, so push me away. That is all you have to do. Push me away.”

You place your hands on his chest. His heart is racing uncontrollably. You give him a gentle nudge.

“This isn’t enough. Push me away”, Jimin insists, fighting your weak pushes.

You try again, spilling tears.

“Push me away. Do it, ___.”

You can’t push him away. You need him. You can’t survive without him. 

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. You drop your hands from his chest, grabbing his waist, “no”, you whisper and tug him into a hug. You rest your head on his chest, shaking it, “no. You are good enough, Jimin. You are too good for me in fact. I have to marry for power, but you should marry for love. I’m so selfish to keep you with me. You are not supposed to be a secret.”

Jimin closes his arms around you and presses you close.

“It’s alright. I’m just as selfish.”

“No. No, it’s not fair to you”, you shake your head.

“Sending me away will break me more than being your secret”, Jimin insists, stopping your vigorous head shaking gently. He brushes his palm down the back of your head repeatedly, “I know you are scared, but we will figure this out. We will do it together like we always did. Please don’t let seventeen years go to waste, ___.”

You exhale shakily, looking up at him with tears covering your cheeks.

Jimin’s eyes are filled with reassurance, a warm smile curls his lips. He cups your cheeks to dry your tears. You lean into the touch, finally finding the comfort you craved for too long.

“We will find a way together. Yes?” he whispers. 

You nod your head. 

“Yes, we will”, he says and watches as you furrow your brows sadly, “what’s the matter?”

“I want to marry you”, you confess, “but if I can’t find a strong companion, my queendom will be without protection. My late husband never expected love from me, we were friends and I loved him dearly as such and now he is dead and I am destined to find someone to fill his place. I am frightened, Jimin. I do not want to pretend to love a stranger. Why did he have to die and leave me to fend for myself?”

“You are not alone. I’m by your side. I will always be by your side.”

“I know”, you blink your tears away, “I’m so grateful that you are”, you say and cup his cheeks.

He leans into the touch, lowering his eyes in the fondest of ways. He slides his left hand to the small of your back, while his right engulfs the nape of your neck. He tugs you closer, eliciting a whimper from you. You tilt your head up, closing your eyes to get lost in the kiss. But the kiss never comes. At least not on your lips. He kisses the tears from your cheeks before placing soft kisses on your sensitive neck, on the spots where it feels the best.

“Jimin….” you sigh, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. Your fingers grasp his tunic and twist it desperately, your legs close around him to tug him closer. You feel breathless. This is the kind of feeling you know to be attraction. This is how you feel when you crave someone’s touch. One kiss to your neck is enough to send your body into a blurred state of happiness.

Jimin lifts his pillowy lips from your neck. You chase him, even going so far as to slide your hand to his neck to pull him back, but he is stronger. He brushes his lips over your ear as he speaks.

“I won’t go further than this tonight. You are drunk and I am the last person who would make an indecent woman out of you.”

“I don’t care. I’m indecent with you”, you say, grabbing his hair to pull him close, “kiss me, Jimin. Please.”

Jimin allows you to win the fight and drag him into a kiss. It is a messy kiss. You are so drunk that you barely have coordination over your mouth. To you it felt like the most wonderful of kisses, but to Jimin it felt wet and just a little sloppy. He still kissed you back because he missed your kiss so much it became hard to breathe. He swallows the crude moans you let out while his hands touch your backside. You arch your back, rolling your hips into him. His calloused hands slide under your behind and lift you from the table. You moan, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you to bed. You are rubbing yourself against him, feeling suffocated in need. You missed him so much. You missed him. Missed him. Missed him.

Jimin places you in the sheets, but doesn’t climb on top of you. Instead he keeps one foot grounded on the floor, while the knee of his other rests between your opened legs. He breaks the kiss, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek.

“Sleep tight, ___ beloved”, he whispers and steps back.

“Jimin…please…”

He gives you a bow before turning his back to you and leaving your chambers. He keeps his sword on your bed as a symbol that he hasn’t left your life tonight.

The doors fall closed.

You touch your lips, gasping for air. He left you. He did so little tonight and yet your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Fuck”, you whisper, staring at his sword.

That night you do unspeakable things with its handle. Things so indecent that they couldn’t possibly be mentioned in these writings. And the most humiliating part was that you weren’t ashamed of them.

You don’t let the court know how hungover you felt. Frigga and your maids woke you two hours after the sun rose and helped you freshen up. They asked how you enjoyed the evening with Thranduin and you could simply smile and tell them that you had a good time with him. They missed how you ogled Jimin’s sword as you spoke the words.

Once they dressed you for breakfast, you left your chambers. You take Jimin’s sword with you, even if your servants seemed confused about its presence for a moment.

“He must have forgotten it as I got ready for the evening with Thranduin”, you lied and they didn’t probe any further.

“My Queen”, Jimin joins your side on the hallways. He is dressed in his armour and carries his spare sword. He bows at you, giving you a miniscule smile as he straightens up again. Happiness surrounds him today and you feel the same.

“Sire”, you greet him with a curtsey, stifling a giggle, “I noticed that you forgot your sword in my chambers.”

“Truly? I did? Oh how clumsy of me. I already looked for it everywhere this morning”, he says, “I must have forgotten it as you got ready for your evening with Thranduin.”

“I already figured that much. Worry not, I brought it with me”, you say and offer it to him.

Jimin accepts it with a bow of his head. He holds it by his sheath at first, furrowing his brows as his eyes scan over the handle. 

Your heart flutters. He noticed.

He touches it, lifting his brows in surprise when he feels the sinful residue you left on it.

His eyes meet yours and widen. He knows. You allow a small smile to curl your lips. Oh how you are fighting with your giggles. His shocked face is such a delight.

“You should take better care of your swords, Sire”, you tell him and continue your strut to the dining hall.

Jimin stands and stares until even the last of your servants passed him. He waits until their chatters and giggles became quieter in the hallway and only then, he dares to brush his fingers against his nose. If he wasn’t yet sure about what covered his sword, he received all the reassurance he needed with just one inhale. He gulps and finds himself feeling dizzy. You pleasured yourself with his sword. With burning cheeks and his heart racing in his chest, he sets off to follow you. Today will be a difficult day. Oh how he yearns for you.

Thranduin is already in the dining hall when you enter it. He stands up and closes the distance between you and him. “Your Highness, you look lovely this morning”, he greets you and reaches for your hand to kiss it. 

Jimin places the sword on his wrist. He kept it in its sheath, holding it by its soiled handle. Only he gets to touch it on this spot. You feel beyond excited at the view, which further proves how no other man could ever inflict the same feelings in you. You have a handsome suitor kissing your hand and yet the thought that Jimin touches the handle you marked brings you more joy than such a romantic gesture.

“The Queen prefers to be asked before she gets touched”, Jimin tells a baffled Thranduin. He glances at you, giving you a small smile. One you retort with a fluttering heart.

“Oh? I, I”, Thranduin stutters, “please forgive my manners. I must have believed that I had a right to a hand kiss after last night.”

You pull your hand free. 

“No please, I took no offense. You must forgive my guard. He is overly protective”, you say and strut to the tables, “now, shall we have breakfast? I must say that I am starving.” 

Conversation with Thranduin is great again. You feel comfortable with him and honestly laughed. Jimin didn’t mind bearing witness to them today. He knew of your true feelings, the sword he keeps clutching was proof enough. What you are currently doing was for show. 

You ask Thranduin if he and his escorts felt in the mood for a game of Stickball in the castle’s garden. He agreed and so you find yourselves playing stickball in the gardens. 

Stickball was an incredibly fun game which originated in your queendom long, long before your time. Back in its beginnings, people used sticks they found on trees to carry a spherical stone to a basket on the ground without dropping it. Over time one basket became multiple baskets placed over the playing field. These days, there are tools for the game and it is played whilst sharing honey wine and pine cone jelly biscuits. You refuse the wine today. 

Thranduin is busy with his play and the others on the court are busy with exchanging cultural stories, so only Jimin bears witness to your refusal.

You stand under the shadow of a tree, leaning your weight onto your sticks, when he closes in to whisper.

“Does someone regret last night?” he is teasing. 

You still feel drunk enough to feel the need to tease as well. You turn your head so your noses almost touch.

“You carry proof of how much I regret last night in your hand. Need I say more?” you whisper, ending it with a seductive look to his lips.

Jimin flusters, taking a step back. 

You chuckle, leaving him under the shadow as you join Thranduin’s side. 

“You seem to know your way around this game very well, Sire.”

“You must be mocking me right now. I am truly terrible at it.”

You laugh. 

“But you are talented for your first time. Not everyone manages to keep the ball balanced for such a long time.”

“You believe so? Well, then I feel good in my play”, he jokes and seconds later, drops the ball. You and he share in laughter. 

“See? I am terrible.”

“Fret not, it took me a long time to get good at the game”, you say and pick up your ball, “I shall show you how it is done.”

“I have to look thoroughly then”, Thranduin says and laughs when seconds later you drop the ball as well.

“Oh by the heavens, I-”, you let out and glance at him, “I must insist this only happened because I am still drunk.”

“Yes, yes tell yourself such lies, Your Highness”, Thranduin teases and picks up his ball for another try.

The game is amazing fun. Thranduin is wonderful company. You joke, exchange stories, laugh and have fun. He feels like a friend you have known for a long time. But this is as far as your interest for him goes. Friendship. 

Your feelings for the situation became so painfully obvious to you now that you had the memory of last night replaying in your head. You liked Thranduin as a friend and hope to continue this friendship, but your heart lies with your knight. You do not want to deny those feelings any longer.

Thranduin is currently busy exchanging stories with Frigga. You and he already moved on to the fifth basket on the playing field. There were still ten more to go. Now experiencing a moment of silence, you begin looking for Jimin. He is standing with the other guards under the shade of the trees. His eyes meet yours instantly and light up. He smiles, you retort it. 

The heat of the sun, the lightheartedness of the game and the lingering wine in your veins blurs your sense of care today. And so you listen to the voices of your heart and make your way to Jimin. 

Not before interrupting Thranduin’s story for a quick, “I feel the need to freshen up. I shall return shortly. Frigga, you can play in my stead.” 

“Are you feeling alright, my Queen?” she asks.

“Yes, yes I just drank too much and need to use the private chambers.”

“Understood, my Queen”, she says with a nod of her head. 

“I shall attempt to get better till you are back”, Thranduin jokes, eliciting a small laugh from you before you officially excuse yourself. 

Jimin straightens up in giddy nervousness once he sees you strutting to him confidently. His heart is racing. He didn’t expect to be approached with such confidence.

“I need to freshen up”, you tell him. 

“Yes, my Queen”, he says and leaves his spot to tail behind you. 

You pass a few people on your way through your gardens. They greet you with bows while you greet them with a smile. You manage to get as far as the lower hallways and then loneliness surrounds you. No other people are in sight. 

Jimin looks around. Left, right, front and back. You and he are alone. There is a broom cabinet to your right. Jimin looks at you and grabs his soiled sword. This is his chance.

He closes the distance and touches your waist. 

“Oh”, you gasp in surprise, squeaking when he twirls you and pushes, “what are you doing? Jimin, what-”, an unflattering, yet honest cackle leaves you, "heavens, you."

Jimin pushed you into the broom cabinet. It is big enough to house hip high dressers and ceiling high shelves. Your gardeners use it to store their equipment in here, as well as pillows for the garden. He kicks the door closed and uses the soiled sword to seal it from inside. Then he turns, grabbing you again to lift you off your feet and onto the dresser. 

You grab for him, pulling him into a kiss in sync with him leaning into it. It results in your teeth colliding with each other. 

“Careful”, you giggle, smiling into the kiss.

“Forgive me”, he mumbles and claims your lips in a passionate kiss. He doesn’t care about the clumsy mess-up, not when he wants you achingly. 

You moan and pull him closer. Your limbs wrap around him, your hands grasp him desperately. You need him closer and no matter how close you and he are, it isn’t enough. This is everything you wanted for weeks. To go without his kiss was torture.

“I can’t breathe”, Jimin confesses between kisses, “I’m ruined.”

“Jimin, closer”, you beg, pulling him into a kiss. Your tongue traces his lips. He grants you access instantly, allowing you to show him the tempo. Desperate. Messy. With barely any honour. You grind yourself against him and in return, he can’t stop rolling his hips into you. This is scandalous. No decorum is left. You have never needed each other more than you do right now. You can’t be mannerly, not when your very souls need to be connected. 

You tug at the straps of his shoulder plates. It takes some time to take off his armour, but you have practice with it. Too many times you and he had to be quick. Too many times, you had to be fast in undressing each other because little time was all that you had. You learned how to do it in a haste. You studied his armour until you knew where it was easiest to open. 

You tug the correct strap open. His shoulder plates fall off of him. Jimin moans and pulls you closer. His right arm is around your waist, pressing you into him. The kiss to your lips breaks because he needed to worship your neck. He does it sloppily and with desperate whimpers leaving him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you”, he moans between kisses, “what you did with my sword. It drives me mad.” 

“I had to. You left me alone”, you moan, struggling as you open the straps for his chest plate. He is sucking on your skin, kissing the spots most sensitive and kneading your flesh with desperate fingers all while his hips keep rolling into you as if he was already fucking you. 

You open the strap. His chest plate falls off, his back plate follows as well. Now he is before you in nothing but his linen shirt tugged into his pants. You grab it desperately, feeling him up through the fabric. It is damp because it was a hot day and armour makes one very hot. The sensation makes you moan. He is so heated up, so undoubtedly him. There is no one else who gets to feel him when he is this way. 

“I need to have you, please”, he begins begging because your touch through such a thin shirt is hard to bear.

“Open my dress”, you order as you are busy tugging his shirt from his pants.

“You have too much lacing. Why must you wear such a dress today?” he whines as he tries to open it.

You giggle, Jimin does as well. You and he shared this struggle on many occasions, but today it feels special. It fills your hearts with happiness because such a struggle meant that you and he were finally together again. 

“I felt beautiful.” 

“You are beautiful”, Jimin says and struggles, “fuck, I can’t do it this way”, he says and swoops you off the dresser to put you down in front of him. He twirls you so your back is facing him.

“You are so indecent”, you giggle, pressing your behind into him while he gets busy with your lacing. 

“I learned from you”, he answers you, meeting your hips in rolls of his own.

Jimin manages to unlace your dress quickly in this position. He tugs it open and pushes it down your shoulders. It falls to the floor. You turn and allow him to lift you out of the fabric heap. You squeak and giggle as you do, pulling him into a kiss. 

He feels weakened. He stumbles and falls against the shelves, sliding you down until your feet touch the ground. You pin him against the shelves instantly, kissing him so deeply Jimin finds it difficult to stand. His hands are holding you by your waist, his fingers dimple your flesh. Your underdress is made out of a thin fabric. It is as if he was already touching your bare skin. You are heated up as well, forcing moans to the tip of his tongue. There is no better feeling than that of your warm body.

His sword falls to the ground. You opened the belt, allowing it to drop. The sound doesn’t startle Jimin. In fact, he barely hears it as his ears are filled with nothing but your moans and heavy breathing. 

Seconds later, he feels your hand slide down his pants. You find him instantly, rubbing him vigorously.

“___”, he moans breathily, breaking the kiss just so he can rest his forehead against yours and shudder in pleasure. He throbs in your hand, soiling your palm with his wet pleasure.

“You are so hard”, you croak, playing with his sensitive tip. You squeeze it gently, forcing more of his wetness to leak.

“Please can I h-have you?” he begs in a pitched voice and his knees trembling uncontrollably.

“I shouldn’t allow you. As punishment for abandoning me last night”, you taunt.

 “Please, oh-” he nips at your jawline, “I wanted to be respectful, I- oh please.”

“I had to pleasure myself with your sword. Do you have any idea how desperate that left me? How humiliating it was? I couldn’t stop until my legs shook, Jimin.”

“Please”, he breathes out, collapsing into you before he catches himself again. His forehead rests against the side of your face, his pillowy lips brush over your cheek as he fights for air, “I’m sorry.”

“Mhm Jimin, you are such a treasure when you beg”, you rasp, slipping your hand out of his pants, “you can fuck me.”

“My Queen”, Jimin mewls and falls to his knees before you. He runs his hands up your legs, gazing at you with utter devotion in his eyes, “my beloved ___”, he croaks, punching up your dress with his hands as his lips worship your inner thighs. 

Your breath shudders, your heart skips too many beats. He is so out of breath, so obviously ruined, kissing his way up your inner thighs until your heat is under his lips. The dress covers most of his face this way, his strong hands are on your hips keeping you close. 

His wet tongue suddenly laps at your heat, sending fiery pleasure through your veins.

“Ah! Jimin!” you moan loudly, throwing your head back as your hands try to grab his hair. You sway because it gets difficult to keep yourself standing when he is using his mouth in such desperate manners. 

He is sucking and licking you vigorously, producing the most sinful of sounds. He is moaning as well, letting you know how much enjoyment he finds in the taste of you. His strong, calloused fingers keep kneading you desperately, leaving marks of sensitivity all over your skin.

“I missed you”, he gets out, pulling you onto his face until there is nothing but your scent filling his nose and your taste coating his tongue. He flicks it quickly, slurping up the masses of saliva his greedy mouth produces. He is untamed in the way he tastes you.

Jimin is a very mannerly lover. Too much he worries to soil your treasured heat with disrespectful oral. Most times it was you who had to tell him to let manners by the door. So to have him so unapologetically feast on you as if you were his last meal truly ruins you. Especially when you had to go without his touch for months.

Jimin takes your clit between his puffy lips and sucks, growling and moaning around you as his lips truly come to good use in massaging you just right.

“Oh Jimin, I’m close”, you confess in a squeak, fighting gravity. Your fingers tug on his hair painfully.

Jimin chuckles, sucking on your clit one more time before he tilts his head up. Your dress ruffled his hair, his puffy lips are wet in your sweetness, as his chin. His eyes gleam in dark pleasure and hungry desire, running up and down your body.

“I barely did anything”, he is teasing because he knows that he is allowed to do so.

“It has been months for me as well”, you defend yourself, giving his hair a gentle tug, “do not make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I love when you are like this”, Jimin smiles, squeezing your hips, “I want to fuck you so good”, he rasps as he rests his chin against your lower tummy, gazing up at you like a love drunk puppy. He sticks his behind out for it, looking truly to die for.

You ruffle his hair, “you and your dirty mouth. Get your cock out. Now.”

“Yes, my Queen”, Jimin obeys.

He takes his cock out of his pants, sitting on the ground as you keep him down with just a look. Jimin loves following your orders and there are no orders sweeter than when you tell him exactly what to do during sex.

He kneels once he is bared, keeping his hands on his sculpted thighs. His tunic, punches up on them, hiding his cock from you. You glance at it. Jimin fixes it instantly, stuffing the fabric behind his cock so it was visible to you.

“So good for me”, you praise, running the back of your hand down his cheek.

Jimin closes his eyes halfway, chasing your touch with a sigh.

“Sit down so I can get comfortable.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

You place your hands on his shoulders once he fixed the position and lower yourself, sitting comfortably on his lap. He touches your waist, meeting your fond gaze with even greater fondness. 

“I’m happy”, you confess.

“I’m happy too”, he answers you and gives you a gentle tug, “I want you. Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I want you as well”, you say and lift yourself to fix your positions. Jimin wraps his hand around his length, keeping it straight so you could slide down on him with ease. There is no friction, no discomfort. Just warmth and the overwhelming feeling of reconnecting with each other. 

“___”, Jimin moans, looking up at you with glassy eyes. His lids flutter, his fingers dimple your behind, “I missed you so much. Oh, you feel so good.”

“I missed you as well”, you croak, bottoming out. You grab his face, “Jimin. Beloved”, you whimper, pulling him into a kiss. 

“Beloved”, he sobs, keeping you close as his trembling lips kiss you back desperately. 

Your hips dance on his lap, chasing the feeling of him. There is no other person who fits as well as Jimin does. He makes you feel whole, as if a missing piece finally returned. Being with him not only heals your body from the aches of desire but also heals your heart from loneliness. 

“You feel so good”, you keen, panting desperately as your lips chase him. It is difficult to kiss, but you just can’t get yourself to stop. You need to make up for months of lost connection.

“Yes, yes, you do”, Jimin moans, holding you close. He is helping you with the movements, finding his only support by grasping your hips. 

It doesn’t matter if you and he love each other slowly or if you fuck like animals, it always heals your hearts. Because what you and he are doing isn’t just simple fucking, it is yet another way to confess each other’s love. And today it leaves you especially breathless. 

You were so lonely without each other, your hearts were so broken. Every second spent reconnecting with each other mends the deep cracks in your hearts. 

“Oh, my Queen”, Jimin whimpers and drops his head into the crook of your neck. He hugs you against his chest, forcing your desperate hips to slow down. Like this, he is deep inside you while your movements are reduced to movements back and forth. 

“Jimin”, you whimper, dropping your own head as your arms close around him. He rubs against the most sensitive spots this way, reminding you how wonderful it felt to be with him. 

“I love you”, Jimin presses out, twisting your dress at your back to pull you closer.

“I love you too”, you answer him, spilling tears while your warmth convulses around his length.

“I love you so much”, Jimin sobs, squeezing you tightly.

“I love you too”, you moan, twisting his hair, “I want to be so much closer.”

“Me too. Oh me too, it isn’t enough”, Jimin croaks and grabs your behind just to press you against him. Your clit rubs against his toned stomach, his cock bends just right to stimulate your favourite spots.

You tighten in reaction, struggling with your movements. 

“Ah”, your voice pitches, “ah, Ji-Jimin.” 

“You’re so warm and, and ah…tight”, he keens, “does it hurt?” 

You shake your head vigorously, “no, but it, it brings me close. Please don’t stop.” 

“If you let go, I have to as well.”

You shudder, grabbing for him. You want to hold him so much closer but you can’t. You feel charged in pleasure as if his touch enchants you. 

“I love you, Jimin beloved. I love you, I love you”, you chant, finding it harder and harder to move whilst at the same time, speeding up more and more. You need to be with him. You need to experience sensations only he can make you feel. You need all of it. You need him and him and him.

“I love you too. I love you, so much”, he answers you each time a new confession of your deepest feelings roll off your tongue. He means it more and more with every repetition, finding it hard to function when you feel so good. His toes keep curling, he keeps gasping for air between his pitched moans.

“I have to let go”, you confess, muffling your desperate moans in his neck.

“Please don’t hold back, I need it”, he begs, squeezing your hips.

“Jimin”, you moan, letting go of the tension. 

“___”, Jimin follows instantly, spilling tears as his arms cradle you tightly.

You and he had orgasms more intense in your time together. Orgasms which left you disoriented and out of breath and yet somehow the high you share today feels the most intense a high has ever felt. You and he stood at the edge of the cliff, you tasted how it would feel to live without each other. So to be finally reconnected and to share such a vulnerable state with each other feels like medicine to you and him.  

You are finally together again. The painful loneliness is no more. 

You stay seated on Jimin after your highs died down, sharing silence. You fill it with heavy breaths and small whimpers of recovery. Jimin does the same, holding you so tightly without once moving his hands from the spots he has grabbed. He needs to make sure that you stay with him, that he can truly live out the full potential of the hug.

“Do you feel alright?” he checks up on you 

“I feel so good. You?”

“I feel so good”, he says and exhales shakily, “I don’t want you to leave again”, he whispers.

“I do not wish to leave”, you answer him, squeezing him gently, “I will tell Thranduin that I do not wish to marry him. I never did.” 

“I’m so happy to hear that. My heart ached unbearably these past months”, Jimin says and squeezes you back, “my beloved ___, don’t ever push me away again.”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for causing you so much grief. I wanted to keep you safe and yet hurt you in the process. It hurt me as well, my Jimin, you mustn’t think that it didn’t.”

“Don’t apologise, I understand.”

You take a deep breath of relief, scratching your nails over his scalp softly.

“It will be difficult. We are still a small country without a strong ally on our side.”

“No matter what will happen, I will stay by your side”, Jimin promises. 

A warm smile curls your lips. You lift your head, meeting his eyes. They soften instantly. His left hand comes up to cup your cheek. He caresses it with his thumb.

“You’re my best friend as well, my Jimin and you’re the man I love. I do not want to hide my feelings anymore”, you say, painting soul-consuming love onto his features.

“I love you too”, he whispers, cradling your cheek in his calloused hand, “and I always will.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes halfway.

“Now we must figure out how to get back to the game without causing suspicion”, you say, making Jimin laugh.

“Ah putting on your dress will be a bother”, he chuckles, making you laugh with him.

“As will be your armour. Do not pretend to wear easier clothing”, you tease him, basking in how much more he laughs because of it.

Now everything is truly right in the world again.

You invite Thranduin into the garden for a conversation come the next day. You were a little sad to see him go because he had the potential to become a great friend, but more than anything you were excited for what was to come. You will be with Jimin and that is the sweetest future you can imagine.

“I think that I might not be ready for new marriage yet. The loss of my late husband affects me deeper than I thought it does”, you tell Thranduin.

You expected Thranduin to meet your confession with shock and disbelief, but instead he is smiling. 

“I understand”, he says, “but you mustn’t feel as if you needed to lie to me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I know when someone’s heart is already taken. I can advise you to follow it, even when he is merely your guard.”

“Oh. Heavens, I- how did you…”

Thranduin laughs.

“It is as simple as that I was on the way to the private chambers when I passed the broom cabinet as you…well, I am certain that you are aware of what you did.”

“Oh by the heavens, this is humiliating. I must apologise. Such behaviour isn’t like that of a Queen.”

“Fret not. From one ruler to another, I can keep a secret. However, I wish that your love can be public soon. He seems very fond of you and very protective as well. He would make a good husband for you, Your Highness.”

You fluster, “I thank you Sire, for keeping this secret and for understanding. I deeply regret if I gave you hopes of a future together.”

“There is nothing to apologise. I came here to meet the wonderful Queen of Windfell and I will leave having made a new friend. If that is what you desire as well, that is.”

You smile. 

“I like the sound of that. I grew quite fond of you as a friend.”

“Then it is decided. From this day forward, Windfell and Dragonrock are united by friendship. We will aid each other in times of need, stand side by side in battle and trade with our countries’ finest goods. And we shall meet up for more Stickball. I must win at least once." 

You laugh, "I am quite certain that you will, Sire. And I cannot wait to meet you again. You are always a welcome guest at Windfell.'

“As are you on Dragonrock. I must show you around the capital then and the white sand dunes.” 

“Yes, I would enjoy this a great deal. I will try coconuts as well.”

Thranduin laughs, nodding his head, “you must bring your knight with you then.”

Your cheek feel hot, your heart flutters.

“Heavens”, you murmur, fanning air to your face. 

Thranduin chuckles fondly. 

“So it is decided then. Our nations are united by friendship. Shall we shake hands on it or will your knight slap my hand away again?”

You laugh, “I am sure that he can excuse a friendly handshake.”

You enter the throne room. It is busy with the court. They bow as you pass them.

“Frigga!”

Conversation dies down now that you are talking. 

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Send word to every possible suitor that I have decided to stop looking for one.” 

“My Queen, I don’t understand.”

“It is easy, dear Frigga. I have found my husband.”

Jimin stiffens up in his chair, feeling his heart sink. You promised him that you would send Thranduin away and yet you come back bearing news of marriage. His heart is shattered and he feels like death would be easier to bear.

“Oh truly that is wonderful-”, Frigga stops in her celebrations when outside your window, Thranduin leaves Windfell on his dragon, “-but why is he leaving?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. Windfell gained a loyal and strong friend in Dragonrock. I will visit his country soon and we shall seal our friendship bond with a contract. But he is not who I want to marry”, you say, walking up the stairs to your throne. 

“My Queen, I don’t understand. Who caught your eye then?”

You smile. 

“Jimin.”

The court gasps, staring at the baffled guard. Jimin stares at you with disbelief on his features.

“If you feel the same as me and it is what you want as well, come up here and allow me to make you my husband.”

“What are you saying?” Jimin gets out. He is already crying.

“You heard me”, you say and laugh in unbearable happiness, “come up here and be my husband.”

Jimin squeaks and jumps into a sprint. He takes two steps at a time. You laugh with him, welcoming him with open arms. You squeak when seconds later, he sweeps you off your feet to twirl you and him as squeals of contagious happiness leave him. 

“Are you certain? Are you truly certain?” he asks, beaming up at you.

“As certain as breathing is, my beloved Jimin.”

“Oh my beloved ___”, he gets out and kisses you.

And to your happy surprise, the court celebrates with cheers and laughter. It may be terribly confused, but your happiness was truly contagious. Frigga exchanges a knowing and happy look with your maids. It was about time you and your knight showed the world your feelings. She had hoped that you would.

[jaylver]

GUYS MY AGE — S.JY

synopsis: dating guys your age almost all your life has got you sick and tired and most definitely deprived of being treated well. that was until you met an older guy at a club one night, not knowing it would soon develop into something more.

pairings: non-idol!jake x afab!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, romance, implied age difference, jake is aged up (everyone is legal aged!!!)

warning(s): profanities, drinking, mild suggestiveness (no smut)

wc: 1473

a/n: hi 😘 currently i'm still figuring out my next long fics and stuff so here's some drabbles that i fortunately squeeze out of my brain. i realised i don't have many jake fics despite him being bias 😭 i'm sorry for that </3 so here's one greatly inspired by hey violet's guys my age 💓 + my current fav jake pics. hope you enjoy this one! please leave a feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | © jaylver 2023 all rights reserved

Going out to a party shouldn’t be a bad idea, right?

Maybe the first mistake was agreeing to an invite from your friends to a random party in the club, believing their claims that you should put yourself out there more after your break up. As much as you hate to admit it, they weren’t exactly wrong, especially when you stay cooped up in your room all day.

It has been months since the break up and you haven’t seen him since then. All because he was immature and didn’t want to grow up, which prompted the imminent break up. Well, there you were now, by your friends in a club you were unfamiliar with, dressed in something low-cut that they had picked out, and it surely worked out as you were gaining attention from people around.

A few drinks in later, you were starting to loosen up, feeling the need to dance and fuck around more. So, that was exactly what you did. 

Stumbling through the crowd and getting on the dancefloor was already tiring, but somehow that wasn’t stopping you from anything. The dim lights and loud music completely made you unaware that someone was approaching from behind, until you felt a presence close to your back and you spun around. 

Wow.

Despite the fact that it was hard to make out his face entirely, something about him and his aura screamed hotness. You could still tell how he looked vaguely. Prominent cheekbones, hair styled up, alluring eyes and the key point of it all, his lips.

From the looks of it, he doesn't seem to be your age either. He was most definitely older. Adding to the spice of it all, he seemed expensive. Hell, the cologne he wore alone smelled like something out of your budget.

Dressed in a simple button up, the chains and rings decked out on him simply added to his attractiveness. Gosh, he was the opposite of your ex. Now that you know, guys your age only disappoint you, so what's stopping you from having fun this one time?

Okay, so you weren’t about to get yourself a restraining order either. He was just too irresistible.  Although you were screaming at yourself internally, you held yourself back, instead, you let him come to you. And boy, he definitely did. 

Almost too naturally and smoothly, he moved closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist while you threw your arms around his neck. You didn’t say anything and he only took it as a sign to continue. 

“Hey,” he said by your ear, miraculously loud enough for you to hear. “I’m Jake,”

Usually, you might've thought it was lame, but maybe it was your semi-drunken state or simply his pretty face that gave you a green pass.

"Hi," you answered back rather meekly. "I'm Y/N,"

"Y/N," he echoed, eyes glinting in the dark. "Want to get out of here?"

Crazily and insanely you were for following him to his car, letting him drive you to an abandoned spot and sneak to the backseat. It was probably the Aussie accent and blond hair that got you. 

It didn't take long before you let him kiss you, feeling the flames bursting in your abdomen. The way he kissed was deep and feverish; dirty but gentle enough. Slowly, you felt his hand trace up your thighs and it made the hairs on your skin stand. 

You had to admit, you've never felt this way with your ex before. From the kiss to the touches, it was different. 

Guys your age don't know how to touch you.

The night eventually ended late but still, he went out of his way to drop you home, watching you get in safely before driving off. In a daze, you thought that was it, your potential lover was gone, but then you felt an uncomfortable prickly feeling in your chest area.

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out a piece of paper. One that had been slipped in discreetly moments ago when you were completely unaware.

Text/call me ;)

xx-xxxxxxx 

— Jake Sim

That was exactly what you did the next day. Even if it took you half a day and lots of pacing across your room, you managed to work up the guts to text him. Biting your nails in anxiety until his reply appeared. 

Luckily, he was a nice guy who was equally humourous over text. 

It wasn't long before you started calling each other. From one phone call turned into frequent calls that eventually included facetimes. 

Soon, this thing going on between you two progressed rather quickly but steadily. Him asking you out on a date was inevitable and you gladly let him take you out on one. 

It might've been a simple dinner that allowed you and him to get to know one another more, but throughout the whole night, he was nothing but a gentleman. First, it was him opening the car door for you that shocked you. No one has done this for you, your ex doesn't even have his own car to begin with. Then, it was him letting you hold his arm when going up staircases since you were in heels. Lastly, he even paid for dinner when you were against it, yet he didn't want to listen to your arguments.

This treatment was a little foreign to you, because simply, guys your age don't know how to treat you.

Days turned into months and you two naturally got closer, too close. Jake eventually asked you to be his girlfriend, to which you accepted and he even brought you out to celebrate, making sure to attack you with kisses while he was at it.

Despite being busy with work, he always made time for you. Tight schedules? He'd loosen some time up in between for you. Overtime in the office and not getting dinner together? He'd call you just to eat together over the screen. If there was one thing about Jake, it would be him getting clingy and missing you loads.

Him always going out of his way for you made you surprised even though you had been together for almost a year. It was his consideration and effort that got you soft for him. 

He wasn't like your ex. Not at all. He was completely unlike the people from your past. In a good way of course.

It was a shame. Guys your age don't know how to keep you or love you good.

The time has come where you wanted Jake to meet your parents, especially since you've already met his.

It was unfortunate that his schedule kept clashing and your mother has been on your wits end trying to get a glimpse of the guy you've been telling her about. But it was what it was and you could only tell her to be patient.

You were at home that day instead of staying over at his place, however, you were still texting Jake as per usual.

jakey: i'm omw to meet up w a business partner! i'm not sure when i'll be a back but don't stay up too late waiting, okay?

you: alrightt :( i'm over at my parents now. remember to eat and don't skip meals!!!!

jakey: yes yes ma'am. i'll let you know once the meeting is over, kay?

you: sure, drive safe!

You couldn't help but miss him at times, allowing him to fill your thoughts as you helped your mother set the table, not noticing an extra set of utensils placed. 

The usual business around the house around dinner hasn't changed over time. Even when the doorbell had rang, you didn't notice it at first, until it came the second, catching you off guard. You placed down the things in your hands, shuffling awkwardly to the door after calling out for your parents before opening it. 

"Jake?"

"Baby?"

What was Jake doing at the doorstep of your home? You promised to bring him over but wasn't he … busy?

"What do you mean 'baby'?" There came your father's voice, confusion laced in his tone.

"Mr L/N," Jake greeted stiffly, then the realisation dawned in his eyes. The last names, the similar features. Oh God.

"What are you doing here?" You ignored your surroundings, hissing in panic to Jake.

"F–for my business meeting," 

"Is he the guy you're dating?" Your father seemed to have also pieced it together, shock and bewilderment on his face as your mother joined his side.

"You're dating an older guy?"

There's going to be a whole explanation needed over dinner before any business is discussed.

Maybe Jake might've been an older guy but he was way more than that. He knew how to treat you, touch you, love you. Unlike guys your age.

Now you know, you're never going back.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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