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igbylicious · 6 months

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whichever way [woosan x reader] pt7

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, light angst, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: San opens up, Wooyoung cooks, and time passes.

wc: 5.7k

ch. warnings: no full-blown sex scene but there is smuttish content, dom San, sub Wooyoung, sub reader, strip poker, dry humping, cumming in pants, thigh-riding, overstimulation, titty fuck, light cumplay, vaginal fingering, blindfolds, gettin’ giggly during (an attempt at) sex

San background story: UNLOCKED. Comes with a pinch of angst over a strained past relationship.

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

“Yes, Dad, I’ll tell Wooyoung. No I won’t forget, don’t worry about it. Say hi to Mom for me, okay?”

San ends the call, an amused yet weary smile on his face.

“…Did your dad call you just to ask you to ask Wooyoung to call him?”

You stifle a laugh at what you just witnessed, putting a container of blueberries in the shopping cart. The grocery store hums with the sound of background music and other customers around you, not too crowded but still busy enough for a random weekday afternoon.

It’s a sweltering day, afflicted by an early burst of summer heat, and so San has opted for a basic white sleeveless shirt with jeans while you and him go through the shopping list that Wooyoung compiled. It is a true testament to your steady exposure to San’s physique that you aren’t constantly distracted by his bare arms — just a perfectly reasonable amount. (So… still a lot.)

“Yeah, he did…” San sighs, shaking his head as he puts his phone away. He picks up a watermelon and taps it to check for ripeness, a pout still lingering on his lips. “Dad has Wooyoung’s number, I don’t get it at all.”

“Wait, really? That’s… actually kinda cute.”

San stares at you, watermelon still in his hands. “‘Cute’?”

“Yeah! It’s like an excuse for him to also call you, right?” you shrug, picking out some nice-looking peaches.

“Why doesn’t he just call me if he wants to call me,” San sulks, but there is the tiniest hint of smile on his lips. “I swear, he can be such a weirdo.”

“Hm. What’s that thing they say about apples and trees?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!”

“San, you are a bit of a weirdo.”

“Funny,” he corrects you firmly. “I am funny.”

“Don’t get me wrong, weird is good. I like weird! But your dad did call right when you were trying to convince me that you’re secretly immortal.”

“I’m just saying there’s no proof that I’m not! Have I ever died? No!” San says, like he has just outplayed you with the most brilliant ‘gotcha’ in human history.

“Alright, Mr. Immortal,” you grin at him, pushing the cart further along, “then why are you such a scaredy cat anyway? I’ve seen you get jump-scared by Byeol more times than I can count. You have nothing to fear, right?”

“Hey, that cat is a ninja,” San counters, comically serious. “She can get the drop on anyone. There is no shame in getting scared by Byeol.”

Good-natured arguments aside, you and San are a well-oiled machine in the store. You do your groceries together on the regular; it started off one time when you impulsively texted San whether he needed anything, since you figured he’d be tired from working all day after a late night with you and Wooyoung.

But instead of sending a list, San decided to just come with you. Ever since then, it’s grown into a habit for either of you to text a little 🛒❓ before you go out to the store. Sometimes you pick stuff up for San, sometimes he picks stuff up for you, but more often it turns into a group effort.

Just like today; ticking off the shopping list that Wooyoung charged you with. He’s cooking tonight, and you’re excited to finally taste for yourself whether Wooyoung’s promised ‘perk’ of friendship lives up to expectations.

San certainly believes it will, hyping up Wooyoung’s skills as you make your way through the grocery store. You listen to him with a fond smile, slightly worried that Wooyoung might not be able to live up to the sky-high expectations, but also endeared by San’s open adoration of his boyfriend.

Since it’s a hot day, you and San also pick up two ice cream sandwiches, and walk home together.

You squint at San, who lugs around both the watermelon and a heavy bag of groceries. “San, this is ridiculous. I should carry something too.”

San grins. “Nah, you already have your hands full! With snacks!” He eyes his sandwich, then blatantly opens his mouth at you.

“Yeah, and if I took the watermelon, it’d free you up to hold your own,” you point out, but you raise up the frozen snack to his lips so he can take a bite anyway.

He shakes his head with a full mouth, barely taking time to swallow before he makes his protests known. “That makes no sense to me. Besides, it evens up this way,” he says, lifting his hand with the grocery bag up to his shoulder like it’s a dumbbell, then slowly lowering it back down.

“…Weirdo.” You affectionately roll your eyes at him and feed him another bite.

The ice cream sandwiches are gone by the time you reach your apartment building, where you take the elevator up to the top floor. Hands free, you open the door to San’s home and join him inside.

“Aish, Byeol no!” San poutingly scolds his cat when you step into his living room, where Byeol is sitting on the coffee table like it’s her throne. She turns her head at him, lets out a little ‘mrrp’, and refuses to move an inch — and San does nothing to actually remove her from the table, just leaving her be. (What a softie, you think warmly.)

“Wooyoung will be here soon, right?” you ask while you unpack groceries together in the kitchenette; you take them out of the bag, San puts them away or on the counter for later cooking. He also puts some sweet rice in a bowl to soak, as requested by Wooyoung.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be more than—” San starts, but he is interrupted when his phone buzzes insistently yet again. He looks at the name on the screen, and grimaces at you. “Shit, sorry, mind if I take this?”

“Aren’t you popular today,” you tease him. “Go for it.”

San shoots you a look of apologetic gratitude, and answers the call. “Yunho, hey man! Listen, can I call you tomorrow? I got someone over right now. No, not Wooyoung, it’s my neighbour. Y-yes, that neighbour. From next door.”

You had walked over to the coffee table to lure Byeol off the surface, careful so she doesn’t knock San’s reading glasses onto the floor. But when San mentions you, you look up just in time to see how his ears have gone slightly red, and he grimaces at the eye-contact.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow, Yun-ah!”

You raise an eyebrow at him from your place on the couch, with the fierce and terrifying ninja cat purring loudly in your arms. “So… I am that neighbour, huh?” you joke.

Embarrassment now fully burns across San’s face. “I swear we don’t go around gloating about you,” he rushes to explain, flustered. “Yunho just— I asked him for help on how to approach you, before you walked in on— He, uh, he has some experience—”

“It’s okay, San,” you assure him, taking mercy. “I trust you and Wooyoung aren’t the shag and brag types. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t told anyone about you guys either.” Hongjoong probably also has San mentally catalogued as ‘that neighbour’ in his head. That being said, you are curious about this Yunho and his ‘experience’ now.

“So, uh, Yunho is a friend? Very accomplished in picking up his neighbours for threesomes?” you ask, scritching Byeol behind her ears while she slowly falls asleep.

San laughs lightly, your question smoothing away his earlier embarrassment. “No, no, it’s not exactly like that. I met him back at my first BDSM party; Yunho took me under his wing when he found out how little experience I had. The parties ended up not really being my thing, I prefer to keep it more private, but we stayed in touch. We tag-teamed a few times — usually at his initiative, so when me and Wooyoung got… interested in you, I figured he was my best bet for some advice.”

“Oh? What was the advice?”

San rolls his eyes. “To make sure we asked you somewhere that you could run away from. Fast. In case we creeped you out. Very helpful.”

“Hey now, don’t knock him for that!” you laugh. “One should always give a person access to a solid escape route when soliciting them for sexual favours.”

“It’s not like I planned to corner you in the elevator!”

San strolls over to the couch to flop down next to you, where he runs a gentle hand over Byeol’s grey fur. A hint of a smile tugs at San’s lips when she bumps her head into his hand, and his face is relaxed. It reminds you a little of Wooyoung’s quiet photographs of him, serene and soft.

Curiosity nags at you. You’ve always been interested in San’s history with kink; you just never found the right moment to ask more about it.

“Stop me if this is too personal to ask,” you say, “but how did you end up at a play party? Most of the kinky people I know stick to buying some gear online, do a bit of research on their own.”

“Oh? Huh, good question.”

San chuckles, completely unbothered by your curiosity. It’s not surprising; ever since stepping into this arrangement, San has always been very free-spoken about anything related to sex. He does ponder the question for a moment, thinking it over.

“The kink was only part of it, really. A big part, sure, but the whole emphasis on negotiation and everything really spoke to me too,” he slowly explains. “I looked online into local communities, found some groups, and decided to just take the plunge. I guess I just wanted to be around people who knew what they were doing, you know? I… I really struggled with confidence at the time, thought it’d be nice to see experience in action.”

You blink in surprise at that last part. “Wait, you struggled with confidence?”

Considering how shy San used to be around you, perhaps you shouldn’t be too shocked; but inside the bedroom, you have never known him as anything but a beacon of self-assurance. He takes care of you and Wooyoung with a rough or gentle hand, always certain in his assessment of which the situation calls for. No, you don’t exactly associate San with a lack of confidence.

San is not bothered by you asking this question either, or at least you’re pretty sure, but his brow does furrow lightly, and his fingers gently curl in Byeol’s fur.

“Yeah, I did,” he says with a wry smile. He hesitates, but then continues on. “My old boyfriend, he… Communication wasn’t our strongest point, I guess. It was always on me to take initiative, to figure out what he liked and I just— At some point I couldn’t tell anymore if he was even enjoying himself, or just… going along with it.”

You lightly lean against San, putting a hand on his knee. Not wanting to interrupt, but still wanting to let him know you’re here. Casual acts of affection don’t come the easiest to you, but San looks like he needs one right now. For him, you will try.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you in silent thanks. “It’s not that I mind taking the lead or anything,” San says awkwardly, like there is a need to explain himself, “or explore new things together if someone is still figuring out their preferences, but I need something, right? I need to know if it feels good — or if it doesn’t.

“Especially since, well, since I’m into some rougher things,” he says, abashed. “I already had a hard time not feeling guilty about those interests and he… didn’t exactly help. I kept worrying I’d push something bad onto him, that the things I wanted to try were wrong.”

A sympathetic pang of pain rings through your ribcage, and you gently squeeze San’s knee. “There is nothing wrong about the things you want. I’m sorry he made you feel that way. You didn’t deserve that.”

San’s smile deepens at your assurance, but he shakes his head. “Honestly, in hindsight I think he had his own issues to sort out. I hope he has now. We just… weren’t good for each other.”

“San,” you say firmly, exasperation and fondness battling it out in your voice, “sometimes you seriously are way too much of a nice guy.”

He shrugs, grinning at you. “That’s fine by me.”

“Of course you’d say that! It’s okay to be a little resentful at someone who made you fumble around in the dark like that.”

Something complicated shines behind San’s eyes. Like he can’t quite share your feelings, but he still appreciates that you feel them on his behalf. “It’s okay, I’m doing a lot better now,” he assures you, his face brightening again. “Besides, better to look at where it brought me, right?”

“Oh sure, if you insist on being all emotionally mature about it,” you say, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes as you nudge an elbow in his side. “But yeah, I can see how that’d draw you to BDSM, with kink checklists and all that stuff. Must’ve been freeing to have people just flat-out tell you ‘yes, I would like you to tie me up and spank me until I cry, actually’.”

There’s a little pop of warmth in your chest when San laughs. “Exactly! I mean, not that being into kink automatically makes anyone perfect at this stuff, but it still helped me out a lot.” He considers what you said a moment longer, and his lips curve a little sharper as he grins at you. “Soooo… is that a request? The spanking thing? I did take it easy on you last time.”

“You took it easy— San—!” you splutter, giving him another nudge with your elbow. Byeol mrrps in protest at how you shift underneath her. “Fuck, you really got better at that whole confidence thing, huh?”

But you look at him, at his gleaming dark eyes, and as you think back on some of your past interactions with San, their context changes ever so slightly.

Like the way San always softens when he’s praised after an intense scene; or how he had thanked you for being so open with him during your first kink negotiation and after you’d used ‘yellow’ on him. You had simply taken his mindfulness towards your safety and consent as the green flags that anyone should like to see in their sexual partner — but now you can see it goes a little deeper than that.

It was always a given to you, that San would make you feel good and cared for. But San has not always seen it the same way.

San’s attention has shifted back to Byeol, and he scratches the purring cat under the chin while she slowly blinks up to him; looking like the very picture of contentment in San’s trusted care.

“Thank you, for telling me all this,” you say, squeezing San’s knee again.

He grins. “Thanks for being cool about it.”

“Of course I’m cool about it,” you tell him, a little confused that it even needs to be said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Eh,” he says, trying to shrug it off. “It’s not that I thought you wouldn’t be. It’s just, for some people it kinda ruins the fantasy, to hear that their dom has a history of insecurity issues.”

“You’re not a fantasy, you’re San,” you blurt out, stubborn and earnest. “And you are my friend, first.”

San blinks in surprise at your words. (You’re a little surprised yourself.)

“Well,” he says in the abashed silence that follows, while slowly breaking into a soft smile, “thank you. I’m glad to hear that, really.”

You grin back at San, trying not to be overwhelmed by the simple, honest gratitude that glitters in his eyes. “Good. A-anyway,” you continue awkwardly, “you and Wooyoung sure do make a lot of sense, considering. He is not shy about what he likes. Is that how you guys met too?”

San’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh at your ungracious pivot. “Not really, but kinda yeah?” he says, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about the question. “I did meet Wooyoung through Yunho, but they’re mostly gamer buddies. Yunho pretty much set us up; must’ve also realised we’d be… compatible. He’s observant like that,” San chuckles.

“And it’s true, that is what drew me to Wooyoung at first. I liked how outspoken he is about what he wants — and he liked that I like that about him. And then… well, we found a whole lot more to like about each other,” San grins at you, just a little cheeky.

Before you can respond, you hear the front door to the apartment open as the man in question lets himself inside.

“Hey, we were just talking about you!” San calls to Wooyoung when the latter steps into the living room.

“Oh? About how great I am?” Wooyoung says, walking up to the couch to give you a half-hug from behind and kiss San on the cheek. He has come straight from work, still carrying a pleasant waft of the florist shop’s scent around him.

You’re still a little surprised every time you see Wooyoung; he has abandoned his red hair-dye to go back to black. Not as boisterously loud but still strikingly attractive, especially with the way it’s growing out, long strands framing his pretty face. He is wearing simple but elegant black trousers, plus a cream-coloured button up with a relaxed fit, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a low v neckline that falls just short of scandalous. It makes for a stark contrast next to San in his casual summer fit, but the two still look good together, like they always do.

“Nah, I was just saying that you’re probably going to burn all the food,” San teases his boyfriend, feline mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Wooyoung scoffs, smacking San on the shoulder as he pulls back. “All the food? It’s samgyetang,” he says in an indignant pout. “How badly do I have to mess up to burn the soup?”

“…I’ve burned soup,” you pipe up.

Wooyoung’s exaggerated offence melts away as he looks at you, a distinct sigh of ‘oh honey’ painted across his face.

“I got distracted, alright! Not my fault that I took my eyes off the stove for two minutes and suddenly it was an hour later!”

He pats your cheek with a pitying shake of his head, then turns to San with a flat expression. “Let me know if you ever need a place to stay because a certain neighbour burned the building down.”

“Hey—”

“Thanks Woo, I’ll take you up on that,” San grins, then whispers to you, “Don’t worry, I’ll save you from the fire first.”

“Thanks… but also, rude? Stop assuming I’ll set anything on fire!” you sulk at him. “Is this what I get for confiding in you guys? Mockery and distrust? You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Wooyoung gives you an unimpressed look; you really should’ve known better than to appeal to his sense of shame. Predictably, he banishes you from the kitchenette when he starts to prep the small hens — but there is a small consolation; San gets banished right with you.

This way, you and San end up playing some Mario Cart while the room slowly fills with the mouth-watering aroma of Wooyoung’s cooking. It’s comfortable and homey, with plenty of back-and-forth chatter between living area and kitchen.

Eventually, Wooyoung drifts over to your side while the chickens cook, where he is an energetic and unhelpful backseat gamer to both you and San. He also pointedly shows you the timer running on his phone, like he’s sharing a vital but obscure life hack to prevent burned food.

(Wooyoung also has a brief but animated talk with San’s dad over the phone, and you smile when you catch a few threads of conversation; “Yes, he’s sleeping well, yes. No, we haven’t had dinner yet, I’m working on it! I’ll make sure he eats well too.”)

The meal is delicious, just as San advertised, and perfect for fighting today’s heat. The chicken falls apart with ease, the broth rich and flavourful with ginseng and jujubes. “So? What do you think? Be honest,” Wooyoung badgers you, an intent expression on his face; one that morphs into a happy giggle when you moan around a mouthful of food, nodding at him with knitted brows.

You swallow the food down, and give Wooyoung the most puppy-eyed look you can muster. “This, uh, this isn’t a one-time thing either, right?”

“See, I told you right? Bedroom stuff isn’t the only benefit,” he grins, while San smiles contently at your appreciation of his boyfriend’s skills. One of San’s hands casually massages the back of Wooyoung’s neck, the way he is always casual in his displays of affection.

Every now and then, you do feel like a bit of a third wheel in San and Wooyoung’s presence, like when their shared braincell ricochets off each other in patterns too intricate for you to keep up with, or whenever they get a little too lost in each others’ eyes. However, Wooyoung makes up for it by promoting you to his sous-chef for making watermelon punch, while San is relegated to dish duty.

You sink back into the couch after dessert, drowsy from a sated stomach. Wooyoung offered just one drink with the guys before you take the long journey home but, much like you once burned your soup, your heavy eyes flutter shut for just one second — and suddenly there is a blanket draped across you while you’re curled up against the armrest, and your eyes are bleary and unfocused.

You blink, slightly disoriented while you need a moment to remember where you are. It’s starting to get dusky outside, and some drama plays quietly on the TV. San is sitting right next to you, with Byeol sleeping in his lap and Wooyoung dozed off on his other side, leaned into his boyfriend’s solid frame.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to crash on your couch,” you say, voice a little hoarse, but San shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, eyes crinkled as he winks at you, “I’ll forgive you for breaking the no sleepover rule.”

You make a vague groggy noise, and twist your body to try and get comfortable again. San opens his arm, almost like a question, offering himself as a cushion. You don’t think about it too much, your brain still a little fuzzy from the nap, and curl into him, head resting against his shoulder.

This way, you don’t see how San brightens with the delight of someone who persuaded a skittish street cat to sniff their hand — but you do feel a sudden light pressure on the top of your head.

For a second you stiffen in tension, thinking San kissed you; but you turn slightly to see he just pressed his cheek against your head. A small but important difference in the grey lines drawn around your comfort zone. You breathe out and relax, then wiggle a little closer against him to find a comfortable angle. Safe with your friends.

“What’s the show,” you murmur sluggishly, trying to understand why the lady on the screen looks so tearful.

“Ah, see, she has this daughter,” San whispers back, and he starts an intent explanation of her tragedy that you only half-follow before you drift off again.

San stops talking when he realises you’re a goner again, shaking his head with a chuckle. He just quietly continues to watch the movie, more than happy to be a pillow for the three sleeping figures surrounding him.

As time passes, you reap more and more benefits of your close friendship with San and Wooyoung. Sharing meals, movie nights, casual outings; and something shifts so gradually that you don’t even realise at first. You go from inviting each other into plans, to naturally including one another without second thought.

It’s not that you’re always at San’s when Wooyoung is there, just like you’re pretty sure they still have plenty of sex without you, but the group chat does pop off on the regular. Everyone treats it like a given that time will be spent together; whether it be in the bedroom or not.

Also, it’s not always just the three of you hanging out. You meet some of their friends; many you recognise from Wooyoung’s photographs — although the much-discussed Yunho remains illusive for now, out of town for work. San and Wooyoung meet some of your friends as well; San even has an opportunity to wave at Hongjoong, when he walks in on you during a video call.

(Hongjoong loves mocking you for how you used to insist that this situationship was ‘not too involved’; but meeting a shy yet warm San goes a long way to assure Hongjoong that your judgement is solid this time around.)

Of course, you also continue to reap the classical perk of a ‘friends with benefits’ deal.

You were already well aware that San and Wooyoung both have a ridiculously high libido, with energy to match — and they’ve clearly taken a liking to the dynamic of having a third in the bedroom (of having you). In fact, there truly is no need to worry about intruding on them when you are usually the one who needs a break.

Sometimes you do wonder how long their interest will hold strong. It’s all new and fresh and exciting to them right now; will they revert back to a more private lifestyle once that excitement wears off? But there are no signs of that happening anytime in the near future, and you surrender yourself to the pleasure of the moment, letting yourself get dragged along by their enthusiasm.

As you do so, the nature of your sex life with San and Wooyoung starts to split into two directions; on the one hand, scenes become more planned out as elaborate fantasies are brought to the table, fantasies that sometimes require a degree of preparation. San in particular becomes more vocal about his interests — though he does always keep you and Wooyoung at the forefront of any discussion.

(Wooyoung is always at the ready to give San an encouraging nudge when he needs it, never too surprised by what San brings up. You suspect all of this is only news to you; maybe a side-effect of the openhearted conversation you had with San.)

But while the level of planning increases for some scenes, the level of spontaneity goes up for other moments.

It’s not unheard of for a casual hang-out to take a sudden, heated turn. Once, a memorable game night escalated into a round of strip poker, which further escalated when you discovered that San has terrible luck with cards. You and Wooyoung mercilessly poked fun at him for it — until San finally had enough, and turned the night around in his favour with a firm hand.

He did not allow you or Wooyoung to remove the rest of your clothes; San simply watched while you humped against Wooyoung’s clothed crotch in a frenzy, your own panties sticky and sodden, staining his trousers with your glistening arousal. Desperately you sought out friction, not stopping your rut even when Wooyoung came in his pants with a broken whine. He squirmed and whimpered as you mindlessly kept grinding on his sensitive half-hard cock, his eyes tearing up as he let you use him. But it was on Wooyoung’s thigh that you finally found the right angle, your body shuddering with sweet relief as your cunt clenched on nothing, dripping over the infuriating layers of fabric.

Only then, while you breathlessly kissed away the stray tears on Wooyoung’s cheeks, did San approach. He pulled you off Wooyoung, laying you side by side so he could take a proper look at the mess you’d made of yourselves and your clothes. Still unsatisfied, he’d plunged his fingers underneath your ruined underwear to gather your juices, and used them to slick himself up.

You’d moaned as he fucked your tits, but not as loudly as Wooyoung; San palmed him roughly through his crusted trousers, forcibly bringing him to another orgasm. San had abashedly apologised for making a mess of your bra… but only after he’d stuffed you with three fingers covered with his own cum, pulling your panties aside just enough for access.

That night, you learned a very important lesson about what happens when you tease San too much for losing a game.

(…Maybe not the lesson that San intended, since you were not exactly convinced to never tease him again; but still! A lesson was learned.)

At other times, not all planned endeavours go exactly according to plan either.

You still look back fondly on the time Wooyoung suggested everyone wore sleep masks; thinking it would lead to an evening of excitement and surprise, guessing at who was touching and being touched. But instead, you and the guys kept bursting into giggles as you blindly pawned at one another, clumsily fumbling around on the bed. San finally called it to a halt when he nearly got elbowed in his stomach — but it was not the last time you’d experiment with the masks. Just… not everyone at once.

In many ways, this thing with San and Wooyoung is the ideal situation for you. No pressure of romantic expectations, and a growing friendship that you’re coming to appreciate even more than the mind-blowing sex. (Which is saying a lot, considering.)

There is just that slight nagging in the back of your head sometimes.

The feeling that there is a timer on this arrangement, and that you are waiting for it to end. How long before something changes? Before San and Wooyoung move on to different things, or they choose to ‘focus on each other’, to move in together elsewhere, or start a family that does not include you? Before they simply… lose interest?

You tell yourself it’s silly; you stepped into this knowing fully well that you won’t be fucking around with them forever, and you need to trust that your friendship has grown into something substantial enough to survive a change of situation. That it will last, even after you fall a few steps down the list of their priorities. No matter how unlikely it is that you stay this involved in each others’ lives indefinitely, you will stay involved.

But the thought continues to nag, as thoughts are wont to do.

“We can still be friends if we stop having sex, right?”

You and Wooyoung are hanging out at your place after a long walk through the neighbourhood; Wooyoung with his new camera in hand, you mostly just trudging along for company. Now you’re resting up with a cool drink, keeping Wooyoung company once again as he gives the photos a cursory examination.

But now he blinks at you, surprised and confused by the unexpected topic. The question had slipped out of you without too much forethought, just an impulse you chased during a lull in conversation.

“…Why would we stop having sex?” he asks, a puzzled frown on his face. Like you’ve given him a riddle to solve that he can’t work out. “Do you want to stop having sex?”

“No, of course not!” you are quick to reassure him. “But you know. Things change sometimes. Situations change, priorities change. You can’t always know the future.”

“I guess,” Wooyoung says gingerly, like he never thought that far ahead before. Something draws across his face that you have a real hard time pinning down — but it clears up quickly, making way for a cheeky grin. “Yeah, obviously we’d still be friends. You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

The grin is reassuring, but you can’t quite shake Wooyoung’s earlier expression from your mind. “Good,” you say, winking back at him. “Hey to be clear, I seriously don’t plan to stop things. I just… wanted to make sure, I guess.”

“Yeah, no, I get it! You’re making sure we don’t ditch you,” he teases, poking at your cheek. “Just don’t ditch us either, alright?”

“Of course not,” you say, rolling your eyes as you wave his hand away. “That was the whole poi— Oh!” You get distracted when your phone lights up with a text, so you don’t catch how quickly Wooyoung’s smile fades again. “San’s on his way, how about we get started on some food?”

Somewhere along the line, you’ve managed to convince Wooyoung that you’re not a walking fire hazard, which has led to the occasional team-up to make dinner. And today you are extra antsy to get started, considering what has been planned for later this evening.

By the time San walks in, you and Wooyoung have fallen into your familiar patterns in the kitchen, with easy and cheerful chatter that has chased the earlier awkwardness out of memory. San kisses the top of Wooyoung’s head, smacks you on the backside, light and casual (you aren’t even fazed anymore), and swipes a piece of pork from right underneath your nose.

“Aish, just five more minutes, you can’t even wait that long?” Wooyoung scolds him, but you secretly feed San another piece not ten seconds later.

Wooyoung gives you a massive side-eye when he catches you sneak bites to San — but in your defence, it’s really hard to be firm with San when he’s looking at you with shiny guileless eyes and stuffed cheeks. “The faster we eat, the faster we get to the fun after, right?” you say, barely even trying to justify yourself.

“Everyone’s always in a hurry these days. Rushing through their meal so quick they won’t even have time to taste it. Does no one appreciate well-cooked food anymore?” Wooyoung grouses, but you are not fooled. He is just as restless are you are, casting regular glances at you and San.

After all, there is quite the night planned for Wooyoung.

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sweet-little-raven · 21 days

Text

🚨 Everything we know about Wednesday season 2 (possible spoilers and trigger warnings for violence — don't read this if you don't wanna know anything about season 2. Also, remember that none of this is confirmed yet, everything is from a leaker supposedly working on the set)

1- Xavier left school so his character is completely forgotten

2- Enid is craving affection and attention a lot

3- Enid's scars healed (I'm so sad about that... bye bye our hopes of Wednesday comforting her about it)

4- Enid's hair is a bit shorter, closer to Emma's real haircut. It's still blond. They also talked about giving her a black streak, but they didn't do it. They will possibly add it next season

5- Ajax broke up with Enid because she kept missing their dates and wasn't really involved in their relationship

6- Ajax disappears through the season but is found at the end

7- Enid has a new boyfriend, Maxim (played by Owen Painter)

8- Maxim is predicted to be loved by the fans

9- Maxim is abusive towards Enid (he grabs her a lot and leaves bruises)

10- Wednesday hates Maxim from the start

11- Wednesday is really protective of Enid during this season

12- Enid breaks up with Maxim in episode 4 (I suppose, as it says mid-season) and it doesn't go well (he's really mad and they almost physically fight. Enid uses her claws)

13- After the break up, Maxim becomes very obsessive

14- Wednesday initiates a hug after Enid comes back to the dorm after the break up

15- Enid and Wednesday will investigate together in every episodes except the first one

16- Maxim takes over the Nightshades and kick Bianca out. His father is said to have old views (I guess similar to Crackstone)

17- Bianca will have a lot of scenes. So does Thing

18- Tyler is back and will work with Wednesday. He's not the villain of this season

19- Tyler has a lot of scenes with Bianca's mom

20- Wednesday, Enid, Morticia, Maxim and Barry (Maxim's father and Nevermore's new principal) have the most screentime

21- Enid meets the Addams and Morticia thinks her relationship with Wednesday is stupendous

22- Enid's relationship with her mom changes a lot (good or bad, we don't know)

23- There will be a camping episode taking place at Camp Jericho, where Enid and Wednesday will share a tent

24- There will be a musical number

25- Christopher Lloyd (original movie Uncle Fester) will come back as, apparently, a music teacher

26- Enid will have a major fight against around 5 creatures

27- One of Enid's fight is to protect Wednesday (who is immobilised during the scene)

28- Wenclair share another hug at the end of the season

29- Enid and Wednesday are very close friends at the end of the season. Wenclair is not comfirmed yet for season 3 but they said it's still possible

30- Jenna is producer this season, so everything that happens between Wednesday and Enid has gone through her. She and Emma are most likely the ones to decide if Wenclair will happen or no. Considering they both said in an interview that they would be good together, that the whole cast ships them and that so much fans does too, we are on the right track!

All of this is not officially confirmed. A leaker working on the set posted all this on Reddit in June (from what I understood). Recently, bts pics of Camp Jericho has been shared, confirming what the leaker said about it. So all of this is most likely true, but again, nothing comfirmed.

I really hope it is true, because holy shit, the plot is INSANE. I literally told my best friend I needed a camping scene in season 2 and more drama... well, there we are 🤌🏻 All this informations I have shared are from the leaker (the post has been deleted on Reddit but you can find some screenshots on @zstronz78's Twitter account)

What are you theories and thoughts about it?

#jenna ortega #emma myers #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #wednesday #sweet little raven news

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explosionkatsu · 2 years

Text

“Age doesn’t matter” 5

Dad!Bakugou x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Hearing what Kazui said made her completely stop. Mama? Why would he think that? Was it because she takes care of him like her own child?

“K-Kazuki. I don't think that's something possible.” Ms. Y/n said washing her hands before she approach the now pouting Kazui.

“Why not?” Kazui said, now tearing up. “My classmates have a mama. Why I don't have one? Why can't I have one?” he was now sobbing.

Seeing his tears pour breaks her heart. Ms. Y/n dreamt of having her own child, but because of how life can be challenging, how she can't afford to buy her own house or a decent permanent job, she set her dream aside and focus on trying to make it at least to the cruel world.

But nothing is crueler to a child not having a mother wanting to have one.

“Shh.” Ms. Y/n carried and embrace Kazui who was sobbing in her arms. “I’m sorry, Kazui.”

Then it suddenly went quiet. Ms. Y/n was still holding Kazui in her arms.

“Kazui?” Ms. Y/n called out, but get no response. When she slowly made her way to a mirror, she saw him fast asleep. She looked at him for a moment, sad that she couldn’t do anything for Kazui. It took a while for her to bring him up to her bedroom and tucked him in, caressing his cheek that was stained from his tears.

Ms. Y/n then left her bedroom. She decided to keep the door open in case she heard him wake up. She strides down the stair and went back to the kitchen where she left some of the burger steaks she molded. As soon as she washed her hands again to proceed, she saw her phone lit up causing her to look at it. When she saw the unknown number, she slightly frowns. But when she clicked on the message, she blinked in surprise.

It was Mr. Bakugou.

Once Katsuki settled in his car, he placed a bag beside him. A thank-you gift for Kazui’s teacher.

Giving anyone a gift isn't his thing, but Ms. Y/n's kind gesture made him want to. This is the least he could do to show her he appreciates what she does.

And so, Katsuki turned on the engine when he received the address he needed and drove his way to the said address. seeing he was nearing the address, he noticed it was close to the school. After just a few minutes of walking, for sure they'd reach it.

He remembered Ms. Y/n telling him there was a near convenience store and taking a right turn. As soon as he turned right, he immediately saw her apartment and slowed down. Once closed, he pulled up but didn't leave his car.

Katsuki is nervous. He didn't know how to approach her. His palms are sweating, and so was his forehead, and believe it or not? This was pissing him off. So with all the courage he has. Wait? Why does he need courage for this? He's just going to pick Kazui and hand his gift to her.

That’s fucking it.

Katsuki groan, starting to get frustrated. Without thinking, he grab the bag beside him and exited his car, slamming the door shut behind him.

Ms. Y/n heard this, making her jump and slightly spilling the hamburger steak sauce. “What was that..” She mumbled to herself and wiped her sauce-filled hand.

She made her way to her apartment door even though she knows it was a bad idea. But curiosity got in her and grab the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled the door open. She comes face-to-face with Mr. Bakugou who has his hand raised, about to knock.

“U-uh. Good evening! Mr. Bakugou!” She slightly stuttered. “Please come in!”

Seeing him in an awkward position made katsuki's face turn slightly pink, all the way to his ears. “Ahem. Thanks.” He said in a quiet voice.

Ms. Y/n closed the door behind her as soon as Katsuki get in. “I'm sorry about the mess. I have a lot of papers to work on.” She said sweating dropped when she saw him eye the papers stacked on her coffee table. “Please have a seat.” She added as she collect all the papers and headed to her bedroom.

When she came back, she made her way to the kitchen switched the fire off on her stove, and saw Katsuki sitting on the sofa. “Make yourself at home.” She smiled. “You might be looking for Kazui, he’s currently sleeping in my bedroom.”

Ms. Y/n opened one of the kitchen cabinets and grab two glasses. She then grabs a drink and pours the content into the glass.

Katsuki was quiet even though he can hear her talking . He was checking her apartment which was neat, and organized, with no dust in sight. Except for the stack he saw earlier, which was now gone.

Her apartment was indeed small, like what Kazui said. But she made it look homey. Unlike his quiet home. Even though he has all those branded furniture and expensive stuff. Never in a while, had he felt his house homey. But he, sitting in someone’s home? Knowing that Y/n is living alone, single-

Wait, was she single?

Katsuki’s thoughts about her apartment suddenly vanish. I mean, was she by herself?

Getting inquisitive, he looks for a sign of another person living with her. A male person. But all he saw was what a single woman has.

How old was she again? 23? Right. She’s too young and still unraveling her future.

Well, age doesn’t matter to him.

What? The fuck was he thinking? Why would he think that?

Katsuki internally smacks himself in the face. He’s not looking for any relationship right now. After what happened. He’s too scared to try again.

“Here. Seems like you're deep in thought.”

Katsuki blinked being cut off and saw Ms. Y/n place a cup of tea in front of him.

“Thank you.” He said.

Why was he being quiet anyway?

“You’re welcome.” Ms. Y/n smiled at him. “I actually poured you an orange juice and was about to give it to you but it seems like you're stressed. So I made you some tea. I hope you don't mind camomile?” She giggled and went back to the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” Katsuki said. “Where’s Kazui?”

Ms. Y/n blinked. Didn't she say he’s asleep? Maybe Mr. Bakugou was too deep in thought that he wasn't listening to everything you said.

“He’s sleeping in my bedroom.” You chuckled making Katsuki look at you raising an eyebrow which made you panic and immediately apologize.

“Why're you apologizing?” Katsuki asked and gently gran the tea in front of him. The aroma made him relax.

“I was being rude.” Ms. Y/n smiled nervously.

She’s always smiling.

"You're not," Katsuki said and took a sip.

Ms. Y/n only smiled before going back to her kitchen and preparing the plates needed. "Have you had your dinner, Mr. Bakugou?" You asked.

As if on cue, Katsuki's stomach started making a sound making him blush and her, giggle.

"I'll take that as a no." You said. "I made Hamburger steak. Kazui requested it."

"Hah? I swear to god that spoiled ass brat." Katsuki said, this time, out loud.

"Would you want a plate, Mr-

"Just call me Bakugou. I hate this formality and such. It's fucking pissing me off." Katsuki said as he placed the teacup back on the coffee table.

This doesn't surprise you anymore. Why? Because there are times Y/n watches television in her free time and saw how Dynamight swears a lot. Even civilians got used to this.

"Alright, Bakugou." Ms. Y/n chuckled and just prepare another plate for him. "You can go wake Kazui so we can all eat. The more the merrier right?"

"Don't order me around." Katsuki tsked but follow otherwise.

He heard a low sorry when he walked past the kitchen and straight to her bedroom where he saw the door wide open. He was about to go straight inside but he stopped midway. He's trespassing on her privacy. But she was the one who gave him permission, plus, he's only waking Kazui up, so it doesn't matter. So he continued and went straight into her bedroom and saw a double-sized bed where he saw Kazui sleeping peacefully.

"Oi." Katsuki called but got no reponse. "Brat. Wake up. We're going to eat dinner."

Seeing his son won't wake up anytime soon, he picks him up and carries him in his arms. "Kazui, wake up. Ms. Y/n made us dinner. You spoiled brat."

Kazui lightly stirred in his father's arms before completely waking up, and rubbing his eyes. "Papa," he mumbled.

Katsuki only watched his son.

"Where's mama.." Kazui yawned and snuggled back into his arms.

Katsuki was frozen in his place. Shocked, confused, angry? He doesn't know what to feel when he once again heard his son looking for his mother.

"Why are you looking for her?" Katsuki asked, hoping he would get a response despite knowing how drowsy his son is.

"Mama Y/n.."

#bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugo katuski

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themultifandomgal · 8 months

Note

I have a Mark Sloan x female

What if Mark Sloan had been dating Meredith’s older sister who is head of trauma. Y/n and Mark broke after the situation with his daughter and grandson.

After the night at Joes after the attendings had been celebrating Derek, Mark and y/n ends the night with sleeping together.

About 8 or 9 weeks y/n starts to feeling nauseous and tired. Callie starts to feel the same way as y/n, the two friends takes a pregnancy test and they both finds out that they are pregnant.

Callie had slept with a stranger from joes bar.

Y/n tells Mark that she is pregnant with his child and he wants them to get back together.

Maybe you can make it as two or three parts, something based on season 7 episode 9, 13 and 14

Mark Sloan- Try Again Pt1

It all started 9 weeks ago with one drunken night at Joe’s Bar. One night of weakness. I promised myself I wouldn’t run back to Mark, but I did. We broke up because I felt he needed to focus on his daughter and his unborn grandchild. I still love him, I think I always will. Maybe braking up was a mistake, but here we are. Now Callie and I are sat in my bedroom both with pregnancy tests in hand

“I’m scared” I reveal

“Me to. At least you’ll know who the dad is though”

“Why did we go to the bar that night?”

“Because we were celebrating Derek. The real question is why did we get so drunk?” Callie replies

“Cal, what are we going to do if they’re positive?”

“Well, you need to talk to Mark. But whatever you decide to do I’ll be by your side. If I’m pregnant I’ve already decided I’m going to keep them”

“I mean I have wanted to be a mom forever and I am getting older” just then the timer goes off. Both Callie and I take in a deep breath and look down at the tests in our hands. 2 pink lines. Pregnant. Tears immediately start to threaten to fall from my eyes, emotions are all over the place, scared, confused, excitement

“I’m pregnant” Callie says

“Me to”

“You ok?”

“I honestly don’t know how I feel. You?” I turn to face my best friend

“Same. Guess I gotta tell Arizona now”

“Fuck I gotta tell Mark” I groan placing my head in my hands

“You want me to come with you?”

“No” I shake my head “I gotta do this myself. I’ll call you later”

“Good luck” Callie says as I get up from the couch and leave my apartment, heading straight for my car and then Marks place.

I knock on the door waiting for what feels like ages until it finally opens up to a confused looking Mark

“YN? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk. Can I come in?”

“Sure…” Mark opens up the door more so I can step into his place. Knowing where everything is I head straight to the kitchen to get out a bottle of beer for him and a glass of juice for myself

“Bit early to drink isn’t it”

“I think your gonna need it. Go sit” I follow Mark back into the living room and sit down next to him. It’s silent for a number of minutes until Mark finally says

“So you going to tell me why your here and trying to get me drunk while you sip on orange juice”

“Mark, I’m pregnant”

“Your… you… are you sure”

“Yeah. Took a test this morning. Plus no period, I’ve been feeling nauseous and tired. Boobs are aching and I swear they’re already a cup size bigger”

“But we used…”

“Are you sure we did because we were both pretty drunk. Look I think I want this, the baby. I’m getting older and I’ve wanted kids for a long time. If you want to be apart of their life I would love that, if not then that’s ok I under….”

“No I want to do this. I’ve missed the chance to be a dad before. I’m not doing that again. I want to be part of their life”

“Well ok then. I still need to book for a scan so I’ll Errm let you know” I stand up ready to leave

“Wait. Err I was just making some lunch, made to much for one… so if you’d like, you can stay for a bit” I give Mark a little smile and nod my head

“Ok. Yeah”

#mark sloan #mark sloan x reader #mark Sloan x yn #greys anatomy #greys anatomy imagine #mark sloan imagine

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noroi1000 · 8 months

Text

F**k your fav - Epilogue

F**k your fav | ←Previous

You were sitting in front of your laptop, looking at the same website as always.

You were on Satoru's lap while Suguru sat next to you, watching curiously as to what was causing his friend to ask for Threesome.

The same questions arose.

Question 1: Who is your partner for you?

Question 2: What do you think about your partner's character?

Question 3: What do you think about your partner's appearance?

Question 4: What do you like most about your partner?

Question 5: What do you like most about yourself?

Question 6: What do you think your partner looks best in?

Question 7: Do you think you're a good kisser?

Question 8: Do you think your partner is a good kisser?

Question 9: Where do you like to be touched most?

Question 10: What turns you on most about your partner?

Question 11: What do you like when your partner is with you?

Question 12: What is your dirty secret that you are hiding?

Question 13: How often do you masturbate?

Question 14: How often do you have sex?

Question 15: Do you like having sex with each other?

Question 16: Do you use toys?

Question 17: What do you think about your partner's sex drive?

Question 18: Do you like to experiment?

Question 19: What do you like to do most in bed? What type of sex do you prefer?

Question number 19 was what started it all.

The entire test had 20 questions. And you were stuck on 19 because Satoru didn't know what type of sex he liked. When you told Suguru about it, he couldn't believe it. He made so many things out of such a small problem. He even agreed to do anal with another guy to find out if Threesome was his favorite! This wasn't a completely normal task...

Would you rather you had sex normally, on the spur of the moment, and not when he wants you to check another item on his list? This must have been the strangest experience for Suguru...

"So, are you able to answer now?" Geto asked, watching his friend, who was staring at the question on the laptop screen. "I decided to help you not hear now that you still don't know. Satoru. So the idea of that exactly."

"And I thought you were horny for my girlfriend; that's why you agreed to it." he stuck his tongue out at him, and you hit him on the head to stop him from fooling around.

But now you were a little wondering if it was true...

But if you didn't like Suguru even a little, or he didn't like you, he wouldn't have agreed to it. And he agreed, and this all happened.

"Well... If I had to answer..."

You waited carefully for his response.

You both helped him so he could choose. So now you hope that -

"I cannot choose." he said bluntly.

You were frozen. Especially you, who helped him from the beginning. You let him do everything! For everything, even the strange ones! For him to say that he still can't choose?!

"Satoru!" You screamed.

"I can't choose! I think I like it all! I just like having sex with you in all kinds of ways!"

His hands, which held you close to him, were very warm. And all you could focus on was that.

It doesn't change the fact that he did everything he liked with your body so that he wouldn't choose one thing at the end.

If either of you would like, Suguru can join you. He was always close to you, like family. So it doesn't change.

But you could have been happy.

You could fuck your Satoru in every way.

And you fucked your fav.

Your fav is Satoru.

Your boyfriend moved on to the last question, which was:

Question 20: How did you like our questions? We encourage you to take part in our second project, “30 Day Sex Challenge.” Every day, you will be given the type of sex you need to have. If you are interested, click the link later.

"Noooo!" You screamed, and your hands shot out.

Before Satoru could turn it on, you closed the laptop and held it to stop him from running another test that would end the same as this one.

✨A/N✨

Thank you for reading F**k Your Fav! It's been a long road for me to make this. Even though it has few chapters, there were breaks that lasted several months. I was supposed to post this a week ago, but I had major problems with being an author on Wattpad. But it's over now! This was the last chapter! I can mark this story as finished and be happy with my success!This story was also written on the spur of the moment.I saw fanart and suddenly I came up with something. Now I know I can't trust all my sudden fantasies because at some point I'll have mental lag while writing this.And writing smut is not as easy as it may seem.

Anyway, thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this story

Thank you very much!

😘

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #geto suguru #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x reader x geto #f**k your fav

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magicshopaholic · 7 months

Text

Moving On (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: BTS performs in Amsterdam and Namjoon invites you to the afterparty.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 8.2K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, angst, sex, nudity, making out, fingering, cumming, arguing,

A/N: Takes place a little over a month after Final Destination.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "where does the good go" by tegan and sara

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

Joon [13:45] Did you get the email from Big Hit?

Kaya [13:50] Yes

Joon [13:51] The number at the end is their London office. They’ve been briefed already and have additional security available for all European locations.

Kaya [13:54] Okay

There’s a break in the chat here. Kaya stares at the time stamp, trying to picture him scrambling to find something else to say.

Joon [14:15] The company managed to track down the account that uploaded the video. Account has been taken down and they’ve sued for invasion of privacy.

Kaya [14:20] Okay

Joon [14:22] They’ve also offered to add damages to the suit, in case we want that. Do you?

Kaya [14:25] Not really

Joon [14:26] Okay then

Another break. Kaya scans the time stamps again, even though she’s memorised it by now. She remembers the three dots indicating him typing, seeing them appear and disappear over and over again.

Joon [14:40] How are you?

Kaya [14:45] Fine

Joon [14:46] How‘s work?

Kaya [14:48] Fine

Joon [14:50] Kaya I’m trying

Kaya [14:51] Class starting, got to go

He hadn’t responded and she hadn’t expected him to. Four days post break-up hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to let go of her anger but now, four weeks in, it’s only been replaced with an equal amount of sadness and longing.

Every conversation has been exactly this terse and abrupt, the last one being a week ago. It had appeared when she’d been teaching an elective class and it had taken every ounce of her will to not check it until the class ended. As it turned out, she couldn’t even think of a decent response to it.

“How can he possibly think of asking me this?” Kaya mutters, earphones in as she walks home. It’s dusk, a gorgeous time of the day, but she holds no appreciation for it right now.

“Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask?” Dilara asks reasonably. She’s in her car by the sound of it, a low hum audible of whichever fancy car of hers she’s decided to take out today.

Kaya swallows, pondering this. It might be, but it doesn’t address the problem she’s too embarrassed to voice out loud: it should be harder for him to ask. The thought that he might not be taking this break-up as hard as she is kills something inside of her, as if she’d misunderstood everything in the last three years.

Her strategy to save herself from hearing the truth had been to distance herself from everyone, including Yoongi, who had texted her out of the blue one day to ask her if she was okay (she hadn’t responded); Seokjin, who seemed to skirt the topic altogether and sounded as though he was speaking to someone very sick; and especially Dilara, who Kaya knew would be the only one with the capacity to ask insightful questions that she herself was too afraid to.

“It’s just… strange,” is all she can manage. “He hopped on a flight, shot a few emails, came over and broke up with me and then went right back to his schedule, all in one day. And now he's inviting me to a party?"

“After-party, so it won’t be, like… crazy,” Dilara clarifies. “And the concert before it.”

“I’m definitely not going to his concert.”

“Of course not,” she agrees breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the party… I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want you to be strangers.”

Kaya slows down as she approaches the river. She’s taken the long route home today - anything to prolong the commute before another night in her tainted apartment with memories on every surface.

“I don’t know if I want to see him.” I don’t know if I can. “He wants to see me, though, apparently,” she states after a moment.

Dilara doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I mean -“ She begins before pausing, then trying again. “I’m sure it’s going to be torture for him to see you. But even that’s better than not seeing you.”

Kaya doesn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath; she exhales as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound, both at Dilara’s words as well as her answering the unasked question.

She doesn’t respond immediately, though. Now that they’re down this route of addressing concerns she’s been harbouring in her heart for weeks, Kaya feels the rest of them on the verge of tumbling out of her mouth.

"You've seen him a bit these last couple of months,” she ventures, lowering her voice and leaning backwards against the railing overlooking the river. “Does it seem like he misses me at all?"

Dilara hums, a little too knowingly for Kaya’s liking. “Of course, he does. He’s not the most expressive when it comes to his feelings but aside from Tae last year, I don't think I've met a more miserable person."

Kaya waits for the swell of happiness or relief at this news, but all it brings with it is a new wave of anger and frustration.

“Thanks.”

"Look, speaking from experience, it's not easy seeing your ex after a difficult break-up,” says Dilara, sighing. “But sometimes you don't realise just how much you needed to see them until you see them, even if it's just to gain some closure."

Closure. It sounds… final. Kaya can’t picture it, being virtual strangers eventually, just bits of each other’s past. Ex-boyfriend, girl of his dreams, the one that got away. She hates all those words because they just don’t apply, not really. They can’t.

She closes her eyes and presses the heel of her palms into them to intercept the wetness forming, not caring that Dilara is still on the other end of the line. She and Namjoon had stood right here, years ago, living in the bliss of a new couple in fresh love. He’d brought her a bunch of tiny yellow flowers from the park, part-cheesy and part-genuine, eyes twinkling and dimples soft.

Kaya squeezes her eyes shut at the memory, terrified at how the edges of it are already blurring.

“I don’t think I’ll go,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at the ground. “I can’t.”

“Are you sure?” Dilara sounds slightly surprised.

“Yeah. Two days from now is… it’s too soon. I’ll either cry or yell or… I don’t know. It’s too hard.”

“Oh.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. If you’re sure. Let me know if you want to get together on Sunday,” she adds. “Brunch or something.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

—

The next day, Kaya is in the library again, grading papers and wishing she could go back to being a grad student who’s biggest problem was a pop quiz. She’s deliberately chosen a table at the back, away from where the students generally sit, which is why she looks up in surprise when someone comes to her table.

“H-hi, Kaya.” The student waves rests one hand on the back of an empty hair and waves hesitantly with the other.

“Um… hi.” Kaya tries not to frown too conspicuously, for she’s sure she knows this girl.

Svetlana. Savannah.

“Elena, right?”

“Yeah,” she answers with a nervous smile. “Um… are you busy?”

Kaya glances at the stacks of papers, books and laptop on the table. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Okay. Well… I just wanted to say hi.”

Kaya nods awkwardly and forces a small smile on her face. “Hi.”

Elena nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks like she’s about to leave but at the last moment, sits down at the table. Kaya feels her smile fade for she really, really wants to be alone right now.

“How - how are things going?” She sounds nervous - extremely so. She seems to be fidgeting slightly and constantly touching her hair.

“Great,” says Kaya shortly, going back to her paper and hoping she’ll take the hint. “You?”

“Not bad, overall. I guess. Classes are hard and mid-terms are coming up as well…” Elena trails off. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Trying not to sigh, Kaya shakes her head. “Not really. You?”

“Well… I’m going to a concert tomorrow,” she answers hurriedly, and it’s clear that she’s been waiting to divulge this information, oblivious to how Kaya’s heart stops. “It should be fun. Do - do you listen to BTS?”

An unexpected notification from this morning floats into her kind. BTS continues their Europe leg by arriving in Amsterdam, ready to kick off the summer in style!

“No,” she answers truthfully.

“Oh.” Elena is quiet for a moment. “They’re really… good.”

There’s some awkward silence during which Kaya deliberately writes comments on the paper she’s grading, scratching the pen on the paper and wishing Elena would leave.

“It’ll be good to get out of campus. The people here are kind of intimidating. The parties are pretty wild, too,” she murmurs after a moment, sounding uncomfortable.

Kaya nods absently, uncharacteristically satisfied with the knowledge that she might be intimidating this unwanted guest. “Maybe you’re going to the wrong parties,” she offers.

Elena lets out a nervous laugh again. “Maybe. I never see you at them, though. There’s one, tonight, in the common room. Maybe you could come,” she suggests lightly. “Bring a friend or - or your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers flatly, not looking up.

“You - oh.” There’s a note of surprise in her voice. “Oh,” she repeats, this time seemingly to herself. “Are you sure?” she blurts out.

Kaya’s eyes snap up to glare at her. “Pretty sure.”

Elena’s eyes widen. “Oh, of - of course,” she stutters. “Sorry, that - that was a stupid question. Sorry.” She swallows and looks at her lap.

Kaya closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at an innocent bystander in this situation. “Elena, I… I really need to get these papers done,” she tells her, her voice one of forced calm. “So…”

The blonde finally seems to understand and awkwardly stands up. “Okay. Um, see you around,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear again.

Kaya nods as she leaves, Namjoon’s invitation swimming in her mind tantalisingly. She can’t ignore it anymore, the fact that they’re in the same city, her city. If she’s not wrong, he’ll do the concert tomorrow night, the group will probably stay the night and depart by Sunday afternoon or evening and she will probably never see him again.

She attempts to continue grading the paper she was working on when Elena interrupted, but when she finds herself reading the same stupid sentence for the fourth time without retaining anything, she begins packing up, ready to head home.

—

Joon [18:42] Hope to see you there tonight

Kaya, with a loss as to how to respond to this, simply did not. She can’t imagine he would be texting her during his concert, but she also knows he has before, if the situation was urgent enough to demand it.

She straightens the black dress against her hips and tilts her head at her reflection. It’s a simple dress, plain black, form-fitting and reaching below her knees, but it’s quite possibly the most gorgeous, sexiest dress she owns.

If she and Namjoon were together, she would have worn it tonight with no hesitation because it would have driven him insane. After weeks of being apart, seeing her in this dress would have rendered him incapable of staying in work mode without dirty texts, flirty touches and eyes from across the room undressing her. Even now, with a bare face, her hair tied into a loose bun and no footwear, the dress is a game-changer.

She gives herself a few moments to imagine this paradise, one that might have come true tonight had she never told him about the break-in. Then, she silently unzips the dress and climbs out of the black fabric pooled around her feet. Tucking it back into her closet, she looks for something else.

Dilara [18:50] In case you change your mind, sharing the location here [Location]

Dilara’s text had come minutes after Namjoon’s, and Kaya has to imagine it was a genuine coincidence. Although she’d replied to neither, it was the second text that caused her to change her mind - that, and the lingering fear that if she didn’t go today, she didn’t know how either of them would be able to maneuver a situation to see each other again.

The concert should end in a little over an hour. Her phone pings again and she groans, for she doesn’t think she can take any more of their unsubtle attempts at convincing her to go tonight. It’s not Namjoon or Dilara, though, but Adam Fischer, her thirty-something thesis advisor, asking if she wants to discuss the coming week’s class schedule tonight.

Kaya shakes her head as she types out a reply (Sorry, I can’t tonight. Will set up a meeting for first thing Monday if that’s okay?), a little rueful. Namjoon heavily disliked Adam, despite having no concrete reason for doing so. He’d always suspected Adam of having feelings for her, even though Adam hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he might. Part of her wonders if she could somehow ditch the party for this meeting and still make sure that the news travelled to Namjoon through the grapevine (Dilara), and if that would still piss him off even now.

She immediately cringes at the pettiness of it, however, sending her reply to Adam and heading into the shower.

The party is at the rooftop restaurant of the hotel next to the concert venue, and presumably where BTS is staying while in Amsterdam. It isn’t as crowded as she was anticipating, although the music is fairly loud. It looks more like a fancy houseparty, and even a few seconds in, Kaya can spot a handful of vaguely famous people in attendance. She looks around for a familiar face, preferably Dilara or Yoongi or one of the younger boys, wishing she’d called ahead and trying not to think about the fact that in spite of not RSVP-ing, her name was on the guest list.

She takes another hesitant step in and audibly sighs when she spots Taehyung, who, for reasons best known to himself, has accessorised his outfit with an ascot. He seems to be in an animated conversation with Jungkook, while standing in between them and facing ahead, with loose curls tumbling down her shoulders and looking slightly bored, is…

“Kaya!”

Dilara’s mouth forms her name over the music as she brushes past her boyfriend and his friend and hurries towards Kaya, looking both happy and relieved to see her. “You look hot!” she exclaims when she reaches her.

“Oh -” Kaya looks down self-consciously; she’d settled for a straight strapless top and jeans, unable to justify dressing sexier without seeming like she was trying too hard for her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. And you look…” She frowns slightly at Dilara’s mini-dress and go-go boots, with a slightly out-of-place gold ring hanging around her neck. “... like Daphne Blake.”

Dilara’s face visibly falls. “I look like a cartoon character?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, a very pretty cartoon character,” she adds quickly. “Especially with the headband. But… why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Taehyung picked it - but I’m sure it’s not because of Daphne Blake.” Spotting Kaya’s confused expression, she shrugs sheepishly. “We got into an argument yesterday about who has better taste, so we decided to go shopping at The Nine Streets and pick each other’s outfits for tonight.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows, something seemingly clicking into place. “So the ascot is your doing?”

“M-hm.” She nods in satisfaction before her eyes widen. “Oh, hey! An ascot - like Fred!” She lets out a low whistle at this realisation and laughs, while Kaya nods knowingly, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Not planned but zero regrets. I wonder if Tae knows that - oh.”

Kaya cuts her off mid-sentence with a hug, suddenly immensely grateful for Dilara. She can’t remember the last time she’d let anyone into her life this much with the exception of Namjoon; but just maybe, when she’d been happy with him and her guard had been lowered, Dilara had slipped in without warning as well.

She tightens her arms around Kaya and rubs her back. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, sounding part-surprised and part-delighted. “It’s been a while but I promise that we will still - oh, hey.” The change in tone is abrupt. “Incoming.”

By the way her voice immediately lowers, Kaya is sure she knows what Dilara is referring to. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she pulls away from the hug and turns as casually as she can.

Her first thought is that he looks thinner - visibly so. Well, he’s on tour, says a voice in her head but Kaya suspects that’s not the only reason, for he’d been on tour when he’d broken up with her as well.

His hair is a silvery blond, looking almost metallic; dressed simply in a black T-shirt and jeans, he runs a hand through his hair so it falls gracefully around his face as he approaches her, his face unreadable.

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like all the breath has been let out of him with just one word. He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face, the dimple faintly visible. “It’s good to see you, Kaya.”

Kaya nods, unable to speak and overcome with a sudden urge to cry. “You, too,” she murmurs, glancing at the floor and blinking rapidly before looking back up at him, a bit defiantly.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

She nods again, her chest twisting at how normal he sounds. He’s standing far away from her as well, as though to make it clear in every way possible that they’re not together.

“Hope you had a good concert,” she ventures, recalling the grad student who’d accosted her yesterday, practically beside herself at attending a BTS concert. “Backstage must have been hectic.”

A flicker of something appears in his eyes for a moment, possibly with memories of backstage. Wishes of luck, last minute hugs, sweaty and passionate kisses fueled by adrenaline. But it disappears instantly and Kaya wonders if she imagined it.

“It was,” he answers, nodding. He slides his hands into his pockets smoothly, leaning back on his heels and his smile widening a little. “But worth it as always. The crew did well.”

Kaya doesn’t even bother nodding this time; all of a sudden, she regrets coming here tonight. Dilara has left, she just realises, and Namjoon is acting like they’re acquaintances at best, making her feel stupid and yet immensely grateful that she didn’t wear the sexy black dress.

At that moment, his eyes flicker to something behind her. “I’m sorry, I just need to go and say hi to a couple of people. But enjoy your night. It’s an open bar,” he adds, smiling and nodding politely before brushing past her and walking away.

Kaya doesn’t move; she doesn’t think she can. Something heavy feels like it’s settled on her chest, the weight of confusion, disbelief and crushing disappointment threatening to suffocate her. She has no idea what she’d been expecting; maybe arguing, fighting, crying together again - but not him not caring. Not this.

Namjoon continues walking in the opposite direction for as long as he can keep Kaya in his peripheral vision, both guilty and relieved when she doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t think he can look her in the eye if she does, witness the pain and hurt in her face that close.

He catches Seokjin’s eye and hurries over to him. Seokjin raises his eyebrows and seems to guess what might have transpired, ushering him over to the other end of the circular bar and out of Kaya’s line of sight.

“How did it go?”

Namjoon rests his palms on the bar and shakes his head, no words coming to him at the moment and feeling like he could throw up. He can’t fathom how he did it, how he stood there before her and didn’t immediately pull her to him, or break down and ask her to forgive him for doing the only thing he knew to do.

“Drink this.” Seokjin slides a glass to him and Namjoon takes it without hesitation, taking a huge gulp and waiting for it to sting his sinuses.

“This is water,” he states hoarsely, frowning at the glass.

“Cold water,” corrects Seokjin. “It’ll help clear your head.”

Namjoon takes another sip and places the glass down, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. How do I tell her I can’t do this? How do I ask her to -“ But he breaks off here, his mind swimming with the sight of her bare shoulders and exposed collarbones, imagining how they would feel if he held her.

“Okay.” Seokjin exhales through his nose and pauses. “Look, I have to ask. You’ve seen the state she is in. And you’re…” He struggles for a moment “...like this. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to ask her to get back -“

“No.” The answer is instant, although it’s partly a habit by now. As he does every time his mind tries to convince him otherwise, Namjoon forces the memory of her phone call to the forefront of his mind, the fear in her voice and devastation on her face when he’d entered her apartment.

“But maybe this is -“

“No.”

Seokjin is silent and Namjoon can tell that he doesn’t approve. Please don’t ask me again, hyung. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing by inviting her but he couldn’t imagine not doing it either, not being right here in her city, knowing she was so close that he could almost smell the coconut and vanilla in the air and still not see her in the flesh.

“If you’re sure,” says Seokjin at last. “If you are, then I guess you did well. Just… just be normal around her. Keep a normal distance, talk about normal things and…” He half-shrugs, sounding uncertain. “She’s smart. She’ll understand. If you’re sure you want to do this, then… she’ll get it.”

Normal. Namjoon knows what he means, but he wants to tell him that none of this is normal. Not touching her, not being honest with her, not being with her - none of it is normal.

“She’s talking to Yoongi right now,” he adds, and Namjoon turns to see them near the stairs to the top floor. Kaya’s back is to him, her head lowered slightly and her thumbs hooked onto the back pockets of her jeans, the material hugging her hips and curving down her backside… He swallows and looks away.

“This is your chance,” says Seokjin. “Go and mingle. Let her see you moving on - even if you actually aren’t,” he clarifies quickly. “It won’t be pleasant but it might encourage her to do the same.”

Namjoon isn’t sure of the wisdom of this strategy but ever since the cause of his break-up had been revealed to the older members (and surely to Taehyung at least, by Dilara), he’d almost been relieved that he wouldn’t have to make every decision on his own.

He tries his best to navigate the party after that, making empty conversation with guests, using every bit of remaining energy and willpower to plaster a smile on his face. All the while, part of his attention is constantly on Kaya, registering her familiar figure alone at the bar as she nurses a beer, sometimes with Dilara.

Be normal. Seokjin’s words start holding less and less meaning with every passing minute, especially when he spots Kaya having finished her drink and he’s struck with the sudden fear that she will leave the party. In an effort to be as normal as he can, Namjoon heads over to the bar where she’s scanning the life-size menu half-heartedly, arms folded across her chest.

“Like anything?” he asks humbly. Long Island Iced Tea or a Mai Tai - depends on the flavours. His heart jolts when she shoots him a doubtful look and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s wary of talking to him. She leans over the bar and gives the bartender a smile that makes his heart drop, especially when he grins back.

“Komt de mai tai in mango?” she asks, half-pouting when he shakes his head. “Een biertje, alsjeblieft,” she says finally, taking her second beer and turning away from the bar.

Namjoon doesn’t remember ever feeling this distant from her. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he tries again, choosing to look at her even though she’s facing away.

Kaya nods, pursing her lips and looking ahead. “Yeah, you said that already.” But her voice trembles ever so slightly, or maybe he just knows her so well that he’s sure it’s not a case of her not wanting to look at him - she can’t look at him.

It’s all on him now. He started this; if there is any hope of them still staying in each other’s lives, it’s down to him to make it happen.

“How’s your dissertation going?” he asks, hoping her work is a topic she might open up on.

She shrugs after a moment. “Off schedule,” she answers shortly. “A lot of variables hanging in the air.”

“Did you get into the research project you’d applied for?”

It’s momentary but it appears: the corner of her mouth tilts upwards. “Yeah,” she admits, finally looking at him, albeit hesitantly. “Guess I’ll have a lot more time to focus on it now,” she murmurs, the hint of a smile fading.

Namjoon’s heart sinks. She’s so angry with him; it’s palpable and not something he has ever been on the receiving end of. Her hand hangs by her side; his own itches to link his fingers with his, maybe tug her to him or lead her out of this stupid party where he can plead for her to just look at him.

“Well,” he says, then pauses. “I’m glad you could get the time off tonight. Must have been hard.”

“M-hm, not really.” She shakes her head. “Adam wanted to meet but I’ll probably catch up with him later,” she adds nonchalantly.

Namjoon nods, his hand tightening around his glass. He can’t tell if she’s trying to provoke him, for they do work closely; close enough that Adam’s intentions have always been a point of disagreement for them. He’d never been able to explain to her just how much he hated the way her advisor looked at her when she didn’t notice, how his hugs always lingered a moment too long or how he insisted on calling her late in the evenings to discuss work.

He’s distracted momentarily by Jungkook, who approaches them while bopping effortlessly to the music and stops in between them, turning to face in the same direction as Namjoon and Kaya. He’s definitely tipsy; the smile on his face is too big and he doesn’t seem to be reading the room at all.

“Dilara is a really good dancer, isn’t she?” he says loudly in English to no one in particular. Namjoon frowns and follows his gaze to see Dilara, Taehyung and Hoseok dancing, before turning back to look at Jungkook. On his other side, Kaya is also frowning at him, tilting her head curiously. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows slightly.

Namjoon fights a smile as Kaya half-chuckles and looks away, his heart twisting with longing at how much he misses her. She looks so incredibly beautiful; his eyes sting when he realises that there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“I’m gonna -“ He gestures vaguely and walks away in the opposite direction, desperate to be anywhere but around her before his resolve breaks.

The next half hour is a flurry of faces; Namjoon distracts himself with every single individual at the party, making small talk and exchanging unfunny jokes and hyper aware of Kaya occasionally glancing at him.

He knows, because he’s watching her, too, doing his best to make sure she doesn’t see him looking. He can’t even help it; it’s almost muscle memory at this point.

“Who are you looking at?” The woman he’s talking to asks him point-blank.

Namjoon flushes, realising he’d been staring at Kaya over her shoulder while she’d been speaking.

“No one,” he answers quickly. “Sorry.”

The twenty-something woman frowns curiously. “Are you sure? I’m not offended.”

“It’s… nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“Ex-girlfriend?”

Ex. Not trusting himself to speak, Namjoon nods.

“Hm.” She hums, somewhat sympathetically. “Bad break-up?”

“Pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “It’s never easy to be around an ex if it hasn’t ended well.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, desperate to change the topic. “All part of the process, right?”

“Right,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, once you’re past this phase, the one where you constantly want to die, you can begin the drink and eat and hook up as much as you want stage with no judgement.”

He chuckles politely, the prospect sounding horrendous. “Thanks. Feels good to laugh for real.”

She smiles wider and, before he knows it, leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips.

It takes Namjoon a couple of seconds of pure shock before he jumps backwards. “Whoa. What -“ His heart races uncomfortably. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” she says slowly, looking a little confused. “I thought… you wanted to make your ex jealous. Isn’t that where you were going with this?”

“No,” he clarifies immediately. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to - no.” In the midst of his minor crisis, he notes how the woman looks almost mortified.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He looks up out of habit and sees, unmistakably, Kaya leaving the restaurant, her long dark hair and the shimmery dark blue of her top disappearing out the door.

—

The night has gotten chillier in the last couple of hours and the cool wind hits her bare shoulders the moment she steps out, but Kaya barely feels it. She’s not thinking right now; thinking is what’s got them here, thinking about everything and overthinking to the point of fleeing a restaurant.

“Kaya!”

Her feet increase their pace automatically the same time her stomach flips, but he’s taller and faster and he reaches her before she can even reach the elevator.

“Kaya,” he repeats hurriedly, reaching and grabbing her elbow. “Wait, please. I’m sorry -”

“Why did you even invite me here?” she asks, cutting him off and turning around to face him. She’s so tired; she didn’t think break-ups could be this exhausting. “You’ve barely said anything to me. Was it to show me in person how you’re moving on? Because if that’s the case, then… message received.”

Namjoon shakes his head immediately; he looks exhausted as well, and Kaya is once again struck by how much thinner he is, overcome with a mixture of empathy and frustration at him.

“That was not - I didn’t plan that,” he says, sighing. “I don’t even know who she is. She kissed me and it wasn’t… come on, does it look like I’m moving on?” he asks, raising his arms helplessly.

Kaya stares at him and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why did you invite me here?” she asks again, less defensive this time.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he says at once.

She stares at him. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she says, sniffing. “Can I go now?”

“Kaya…”

“What?”

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for words. “Please don’t -“ He breaks off abruptly before taking a step closer to her, his height both large and comforting. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”

Too late. “You’re not supposed to care how I feel. Not anymore.”

He lets out a humourless chuckle. “What?”

“We’re over.” She can hear the tremble in her voice as she crosses her arms across her chest again. “You said it yourself. You’re not supposed to care how I feel.”

“Really?” He narrows his eyes at her. “You think this break-up had anything to do with how I feel about you? You know as I do that it didn’t.” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I did this because I care.”

“If you say so.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me or something?”

“Provoke you into what?” she blurts out. “What - what is that you want, exactly? What do you want us to do? Just circle around in each other’s orbits for the rest of our lives, while still being - while still feeling the way we do?” she asks, avoiding her almost-slip of tongue. “We’re just supposed to stay not be together and still stay in each other’s lives? What - what do you want?”

Namjoon opens his mouth but falls silent; it’s clear he hasn’t thought that far ahead - or he can’t say it out loud. “I want…” He begins, before pausing and starting again. “I want… you to be happy,” he says eventually. “And safe.”

She scoffs and he bristles.

“I’m serious. I -” He breaks off when someone exits the restaurant, his gaze following them until they’re out of sight before he turns back to her. “This is hard for me, too, you know? Why is it so hard for you to believe I might want you to be happy?”

Kaya exhales but doesn’t answer, because it isn’t hard to believe, not even a little bit. It’s unfortunately the most believable thing he’s ever said to her which means she can’t even fight it.

“How?” she asks finally. “By moving on, like you were pretending to do?”

Namjoon bites his lip and his eyes glaze over, and she knows he’s picturing it. His eyes fall to the floor but he nods slowly anyway. “Yeah, I guess. As long as I don’t have to watch it,” he adds in a mutter.

It’s really over. Kaya feels her eyes well up. “Fine,” she answers quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone to move on with tonight.” She turns to leave but feels him stop her again. “What?” she snarls.

“Kaya, I -” The lift opens and a handful of people tumble out, holding merchandise and talking loudly. Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs her arms and walks her back into a corner, just as the group turns into their corridor and towards the restaurant.

“What are you -”

But the second lift opens just then and they hear the sound of a second group of voices. Namjoon swears under his breath and pushes open a door behind her, walking her back further into the tiny dark room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

“What is wrong with -“

“It’s press,” he hisses, and she falls silent.

He peers out into the corridor through the small window in the door; there’s no light except for the bit through the window and from a skylight in the ceiling. Kaya can smell something vaguely citric that she decides is floor cleaner; they are in a janitor’s closet.

She and Namjoon are frozen in place, his hands still on her arms and hers on his torso to keep from losing her balance. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this close; it takes Kaya a few seconds to realise that the voices outside have disappeared, but he still hasn’t moved away.

Almost as if he’s subconsciously heard her, his thumbs stroke her arm once. The simple touch makes all the anger crumble away for a moment, especially now that it’s just them with the rest of the world shut outside. Kaya hesitates for a moment, then gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. Namjoon stiffens but a moment later, she feels his fingers tighten above her elbows, followed by him loosely enveloping her in his arms.

It seems cruel, almost, that the target of her anger and source of her comfort lie in the same person. It isn’t even a hug; it’s a moment of weakness at best, borne from his almost subconscious need to protect her. For the first time, Kaya wonders if she’s being unfair to him.

Resisting the temptation to wrap her arms around his waist, she steps away from him with difficulty, her back touching the wall. His arms fall from around her reluctantly, his expression resigned. It’s dark but she can see him more clearly than she has all night.

“This is a terrible idea,” she murmurs, echoing her words from a month ago. “The worst you’ve ever had.”

Namjoon exhales shakily but doesn’t argue. “I meant everything I said in that note,” he says, not even trying to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. “And I really do want you to be happy.”

The note. The one he’d kept on her bedside table when he’d left her apartment while she slept, the only thing of his that was left when she’d awoken, naked and alone. She’d only had the strength to read it once before she’d broken down and tucked it deep into her drawer, knowing the words would be etched in her memory.

“You know what will make me happy,” she whispers, looking at the ground. She feels him come closer to her, one hand hovering by her side as though unable to decide if she’d want her to touch him.

He finally rests it lightly on her waist, moving it slightly upward as she looks up at him, her heart twisting at how he’s unable to meet her eyes. She places her hands on his face, thinking vaguely how much she misses seeing his dimple.

“Joon,” she whispers, waiting for him to nod once. “Look at me.”

Namjoon visibly swallows, gaze still fallen. “Kaya, I…”

“No,” she interrupts him. “Look at me.”

With what seems like an enormous effort, he meets her eyes. This is hard for me too, you know?

She knows. Kaya strokes his cheekbones with her thumbs, her touch feather-light. “Kiss me,” she whispers. She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes, hoping he’ll give in, for she can’t go further than this.

His hand tightens around her waist, pressing her into the wall. Their lips brush momentarily and he shivers.

“Do it,” she urges, her voice barely audible now. “Kiss me.”

She feels his lips before she even registers him moving against her and she leans into it, feeling like she can breathe for the first time in weeks. Come back to me, she thinks desperately. Come back to where you belong.

It’s like he can hear her. Namjoon pulls away, one hand on the wall beside her face for support, the other holding her.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and it sends a jolt of anticipation through her heart. “I love you, Kaya,” he adds, voice full of emotion. Kaya nods, unable to speak, wishing he would meet her eyes. He moves his hands to her face and touches his forehead to hers again, swallowing.

Look at me.

But he doesn’t. “But you have no idea,” he continues, every word sounding like it's costing him effort, “how I felt when you called me that night. The things that went through my mind…” He sniffs, and Kaya’s heart sinks. “I can’t let that happen again baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She can feel her face start to contort and she drops her hands from his shoulders, for she knows this part by heart. “Goodbye, Namjoon,” she mutters thickly, sliding out from between him and the wall. She pushes open the door and hurries out, leaving him behind.

—

When she hears the knock on her front door the next morning, Kaya is just about to step into the shower. She freezes and sighs, for she really, really needs this shower. She considers ignoring it but the knock sounds again and she groans, abandoning the activity of tying up her hair and letting it fall loose instead.

Grabbing the old, threadbare robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she pulls it around herself and shuffles to the front door. She peers through the peephole and her heart stops for a moment, but she steels herself and opens the door.

Namjoon stands before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. “Hey. I just wanted to - oh, God,” he switches abruptly, his expression changing from vaguely apologetic to shocked, and he slips inside the apartment.

“What?” Kaya asks, taken off guard and stumbling backwards.

“You really opened the door wearing that?” he hisses, shutting the door behind him. “I could’ve been anyone!”

“I knew it was you,” she argues, tightening the belt around her waist and realising, for the first time, how short the robe is. But she isn’t about to admit that to him, especially not when he’s turned up unannounced and decided to begin his visit by berating her. She folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Namjoon?”

He hesitates, almost as though he’s just noticing how displeased she is. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking a bit ashamed. “I didn’t mean to… anyway,” he says quickly, wringing his hands and slipping them back in his pockets. “How are you?”

Kaya shrugs suspiciously. He looks remarkably different from where she’d left him last night, almost breaking down and apologising to her. Right now, he seems almost… calm. She can almost imagine that last night had been a slip-up of emotion, possibly due to tiredness and an open bar, whereas in the light of day, he’s back to being the responsible ex who’s fulfilling his obligations by checking up on her each day.

“I’m great.”

He nods after a moment, clearly not believing her. “Well, I came here because…” He sighs and a glimmer of last night’s emotion appears on his face. “I thought about what you said last night. And you were right.”

The jolt in her stomach is almost painful, but Kaya hangs on. If he was talking about what she thinks he is, he would be delivering it far more differently.

“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t expect you to keep doing this,” he adds. “Staying in this limbo, not knowing…” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, removing his hands from his pockets. “You have every right to move on. I want you to - to be happy.”

Kaya licks her lips slowly. “This,” she says coldly, “could’ve been a text.”

“I didn’t want to leave things the way they were last night,” he tells her, his voice softer. “You’re, uh…” His voice breaks off for a moment. “You’re the love of my life. And we were together for a long time and I… I loved every moment of it. I just want to say goodbye the right way.”

Her throat hurts holding back the rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.

“Are you sure?” She can’t resist asking, in a whisper. When he nods and lowers his eyes, she feels the heavy, heavy anchor of acceptance settle in her stomach.

Namjoon hesitantly reaches out with one hand but when she gives him a look, he nods and steps forward, and they meet in their last hug, three and a half years after their first last hug in her apartment.

Kaya hugs him tight, no longer caring about hiding how she feels. There isn’t enough time to try and memorise everything so she doesn’t even try; she just goes higher on her toes and presses her nose into his shoulder, revelling in his scent one last time.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s holding her tight, so tight that it doesn’t seem like he’s ever intending on letting her go. His face is in her hair and his arms stroke her back in small movements, his go-to movement to comfort her since they met.

Just a few more seconds. The sensations increase now; the feel of his shoulders, his chest touching hers - and she’s suddenly conscious of the thin robe being the only thing separating her naked body from him.

At the same time, his hands move to her waist - out of habit, she knows, but she can’t help but be extremely aware of it. His hand stops just above the curve of her hips, quickly and abruptly.

Her mouth feels dry, but her legs press together. Then, as though he can read her mind and the direction her thoughts are invariably leading in, against her hip, she can feel his body react.

She lets out a soft gasp and feels his body stiffen around her. This is goodbye, a voice reminds her, urging her brain to focus on the matter at hand. But it’s slipping - fading, almost, as a physical urge struggles for dominance.

Her lips brush his neck as she pulls away - she has to pull away - but it doesn’t matter in the end because somewhere along the way his lips find hers and all thought disappears, replaced by touch, feel and hunger.

Namjoon sighs into her mouth like he’s breathing for the first time, pulling her close. Her robe starts to loosen and he tugs at the belt, groaning when his hands touch her bare skin.

“Fuck, are you really not wearing anything under this?” he murmurs, his voice so low and reverberating so deep inside her that she shivers.

The robe is off; it’s cool and sudden air, a moment where his hands fall from her waist and then their back but this time, it’s skin against skin. It’s lips and sighs and tight grips, the feel of denim, her fingers moving out of habit as they unbutton and unzip - and then there’s pride and relief when she feels his desire for her, still the same as ever, no matter his words.

There’s something solid against her back; somewhere, dimly, her mind registers that her dining table is rickety and has her laptop on it, and then she’s leaning forward and he’s behind her and his chest is against her back and he wants her just as much as he wants him.

“Are you -“

“I’m still on birth control,” she confirms tightly, the next moment feeling his fingers on her hips and then he’s inside her again, after so long. She could almost sob at how good it feels, how right, the lips on her shoulder and his scent and touch.

But it’s over too soon. She gasps and falls forward, her ears ringing and heart hurting at the same time as her heart races. He’s getting close, too; she tries to memorise it now, the exact moment, but then he pulls out. It’s sudden, the emptiness, but the next moment, she feels wetness on her back.

It takes around ten seconds, ten seconds when she’s frozen before she finally hears him sigh and take a step away. A moment later, she reaches across the table and pulls the tissue box towards her, reaching behind and wiping her back.

Kaya turns slightly to see him pulling on his T-shirt, jeans buttoned already. She picks up her robe and pulls it on hurriedly, suddenly not wanting to be naked for even another microsecond in front of him.

Something feels wrong. It’s not the first time he’s finished on her; he’s done it before, on explicit request and without, none of which ever made her feel… like this. Self-conscious. Bare.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I -“ He meets her eyes, still panting slightly. “I still want to… do this right,” he says, sounding almost formal. “Goodbye, Kaya.”

He starts to take a step forward but pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t hug,” he murmurs, offering her a small smile. Kaya watches as he hesitantly offers her a hand.

This is goodbye. Kaya can’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around him. The momentary loss of her sense of reason feels like it’s returned in full form, and she tightens the robe around her. She starts to reach for his hand but then stops.

“This is what you meant?” she asks quietly. “When you said you wanted to do it the right way? You wanted to see if you could squeeze in one last fuck before you closed this out like a business meeting?”

“What?” Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No! I didn’t - I didn’t want that to happen! I mean - you know that’s not what I meant,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t plan this. You and I both -“

“You planned our break-up and I had no idea,” she cuts him off, the shame and embarrassment creeping up her throat. “I really don’t know anymore.”

He scoffs, but his eyes flicker like he’s been stung. “Is that what you think of me? We were both here, Kaya. It wasn’t just me - you wanted this just as much as I -“

“I slept with Adam.”

Namjoon freezes. He swallows and his eyes flicker again, rapidly this time. “You’re lying,” he whispers.

Kaya shrugs, holding his gaze with every last bit of willpower in her. “You were the one who told me to move on last night,” she reminds him, watching his expression crumble and doing nothing to stop it.

After what feels like several minutes, or maybe even hours, Namjoon nods slowly. Then, without another word, he turns around and opens the door, walking out of her life and shutting the door behind him.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon x oc #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #micdropnet #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts rm fanfic #bts rm angst #bts rm smut

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choicesficwriterscreations · 3 months

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July Creator of the Month: Eadanga

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @eadanga

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Eadanga How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Esang

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I don't remember the year, but I started playing when it was only The Crown & The Flame, The Freshman, and Most Wanted. I thought it was a rip-off of Episode because many apps like that exist. The first book I started playing was The Crown & The Flame, and then I got bored of it, so I tried The Freshman, and I was hooked. Been playing ever since 😃

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined about four years ago. I was in a Choices group on Facebook and saw people sharing fanfics. I first thought it was an ad, but when I looked, it was a fanfic, and it was amazing. That's when I joined so I could read more, and then I posted one of my own that I wrote.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

Literally, it's just my name. I didn't think I'd be here long, not to mention posting. It's the first letter of my name, Esang, and my last name, Adanga. Maybe one day I'll change it 🤣😂

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

This was my first post. I saw people making stories in the Choices group and decided to make one of my own. I didn't think it would get much attention, but it did 😁

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write fanfiction, but I’m not really good at making art, lol

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

Let's see, I think I started in 2020. Choices is the only fandom I write for.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

The Freshman and The Royal Romance will always be my number one favorite books to read and write for 😁

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

This was my favorite, and I'll never change anything about it. It is so romantic, hehe 😍

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

This one wrote it for @flowerpowell, and even though she doesn't post anymore, it was so much fun to write something for her.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

It's definitely my Deepest Desire series. I didn't expect people to enjoy it, especially @littlegreenmoo, who was having a field day with that series 🤣. Chris's Journal could have been better; a little bit more detail would have made it pop.

11- (WRITERS) If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I hate angst, and I haven't written smut since my Deepest Desire series 🤣 so fluff all the way. I love happy endings 😁

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I put some of me in my MCs, like when they're cooking, cause I love to cook 😁

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Keeping up with a schedule. I make one, but then real life gets in the way, and I gotta change it.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Eternal Love, I haven't written for that in a long time. I just got caught up with other fanfics, and then you lose inspiration, but I will get back to it one day.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Yes, I would love to show them, but I've shown my work without people asking. I've shown my best friend my work; she didn't ask. I just showed it to her, and she enjoyed it. I've shown my mom, too. She constantly told me to send it somewhere and get paid even though I only write for fun, not as a job. I stopped showing her after that because she was tired of hearing that.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

@maxattackpowell and @drivenbyfantasy are both no longer here, but their fanfics inspired mine. I’m grateful to both of them for that.

17- (WRITERS) Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

The Graduate would make a great movie or Choices book, hehe.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

Choices is my first fandom.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

I love cooking and baking, watching anime (I'm a total anime nerd 🤣), spending time with my baby @choicesgodfanatic, reading Archie comics, watching cartoons, praise dancing, and writing episode stories.

20- BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

Thanks to everyone who enjoys all my stories, and don't ever worry about me leaving cause I'm here to stay. Choices is why I met my amazing love @choicesgodfanatic. It's part of our love story, and I'll never give up on it.

Plus, I've met some wonderful people here and never want to leave them. So glad you all enjoy my fanfics, and look out for many more cause more is coming your way 😁

#cfwc creator of the month #playchoices #creator of the month #the freshman series #choices stories you play #choices fic writers creations #eadanga #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow

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scary-grace · 2 days

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 16) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Chapter 16

“We can’t stop here.”

“Why not? It’s out of the way. There are abandoned buildings. It’s perfect.” Dabi gestures down at the small village between the hills. “I don’t get what your problem is.”

Spinner crosses his arms over his chest. “Just trust me. It’s not a good place.”

“Why not?” Toga asks – whines, almost. “I’m tired. It’s dark. Can’t we just find somewhere and –”

“We’ll protect you if there are ghosts!” Twice chimes in. “Or you can sleep in a tree.”

Spinner’s shoulders stiffen. “Hey,” you warn. You turn your attention to Spinner. “If you know something we don’t that makes it not safe for everybody –”

“It’s safe for you all,” Spinner says. “Not for me. This is a sundown town. The CRC has a branch here.”

Your heart sinks. “The who?” Tomura says blankly. Everybody else looks just as confused.

“The Creature Rejection Clan,” you say, before anyone can prompt Spinner to explain. He shouldn’t have to explain. “They’re a hate group. Against people whose quirks visibly alter their bodies.”

“Mutants,” Spinner says shortly. “If they catch you with me we’ll all be in trouble. It’s safer to find somewhere else.”

“No,” Tomura says. You look askance at him, and you’re not the only one. “Fuck them. They don’t own this town. Why should you have to leave? Let’s just kill them and then we can all sleep.”

“Um –” You feel like you should say something about this turn of events. Like that murdering however many people are in this town’s CRC branch is a bad idea if you’re trying to keep a low profile. “Shouldn’t somebody scout and find out what we’re looking at as far as numbers go? I can do that.”

“Yes,” Compress agrees. “We should plan –”

“We don’t need a plan.” Tomura cuts him off. “We’ll tell them we’re there to steal their shit. When they attack us, we’ll kill them, and then we’ll steal their shit. Easy.”

“Like an item drop,” Spinner says, and cracks a weak, angry grin. “Fine with me. Let’s go.”

The CRC branch headquarters isn’t hard to spot. The League strategizes quietly on the walk there, trying to decide who will attack what, and you walk in the middle, unsure of what to do. They’ll tell you what to do, right? Somebody will. It’s not like you can fight. Sure enough, Tomura drops back from a conversation with Twice and falls into step beside you. “I want you to stay out front.”

“Still keeping your precious Saintess’s hands clean?” Dabi sneers. “She’s on the run. It’s too late.”

“We need a lookout,” Tomura says. “If it looks like backup’s coming, we need to know. And if anybody gets out –”

“Not likely!” Toga trills.

“Someone needs to stop them,” Tomura continues. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.” You answer before you’ve really thought about it, but you won’t be any use in the main fight, and if they’re doing this, you need to help. Besides, how hard could it be?

The answer to the question “how hard could it be” turns out to be “pretty hard”. The League is outnumbered, unable to use Dabi’s wide-range quirk without potentially burning themselves alive, and Toga and Spinner are the only ones who actually use weapons in hand-to-hand combat. The front door locks from the inside, and while you know Compress locked it on the League’s way in, it must not be very hard to unlock, because there are multiple people trying to open it and escape. You throw your weight back against it to keep it shut, but you’re not going to be able to forever. “Um –”

“Hey, where are you guys going?” Toga’s voice is syrupy sweet and all the more terrifying for it. You hear an agonized shriek. “Come back in! We were just starting to have fun!”

The pressure on the door lessens significantly, but a moment later, there’s a crash, followed by someone in a creepy mask diving through a window and sprawling out on the ground in front of you. This is your job to deal with, but you don’t have a weapon. A quick check of your surroundings reveals an umbrella stand by the door. You knock it over, spilling the umbrellas, then pick up the stand. The CRC member is on their hands and knees, struggling to rise, and you deliver a sharp strike to their kidneys with the base of the stand.

You knew what you were aiming at. You know it hurts. The CRC member shrieks, and your stomach turns. “Stay down.”

Toga vaults through the window and lands on the ground, graceful like a cat. “Thanks for grabbing him,” she says. She stabs one of her syringes into the man’s leg and his body jerks as the device on her back begins to suction blood at a rate that collapses his veins. “We’re almost done in there. It’s too bad you couldn’t see Tomura-kun fight. You’d like it when he gets angry.”

You don’t know that you would. You don’t feel very good about what you just did. You’re not sorry that you hit the guy who tried to escape, and you’re not sorry that the members of a hate group are getting what’s coming to them, but – you don’t really know why you feel weird. You just know it’s the kind of thing you should keep to yourself.

The front door opens just as Toga’s finished draining blood from the man you hit. Dabi sticks his head out. “Grab that guy and get in here. We’re searching the place.”

Toga grabs the dead man’s feet, leaving you to grab beneath his shoulders, and the two of you drag him up the front steps and into the house. You’re used to handling the injured. You’re not used to dead bodies. You’re more than a little relieved to set him down, and you don’t feel entirely better until Tomura’s touched him and turned the corpse to dust. “We’re searching in groups, in case anybody hid,” he informs you and Toga. “Toga, you’re with Compress. And you’re with me and Spinner.”

You nod and follow them deeper into the house – Tomura in front of you, Spinner behind. “Did either of you get hurt?” you ask. There’s an awkward silence. “I need to know.”

“I got clipped. It’s not that bad,” Spinner says. You glance back and see him grimacing, and you switch spots with him in line without another word. “It’s not that bad. Seriously.”

“I’ll look at it once we’re done,” you decide. You address Tomura next. “What about you?”

“They couldn’t touch me.” Tomura disintegrates the first door the three of you come to and peers inside. “Empty. Let’s search.”

There’s not much in the room. Some antiques, but those are easier to trace than regular stolen goods and would be harder to sell. There’s a bookshelf, and a case full of ancient bladed weapons, which Spinner promptly breaks and begins to sort through. “These are old but good,” he says. “They did a better job with steel back in the day. Here.”

He’s holding out a knife to you. “You should have a real weapon. I don’t know how you stopped the guy who got out –”

“Umbrella stand.”

Spinner looks honestly taken aback. “A knife’s faster,” he says. “Take it.”

“Thanks,” you say. You’ll have to think of somewhere to put it later. It won’t be much use in your backpack.

Out of everybody who’s searching the house, you and Toga come up with the items with the highest resale value – Toga has a good eye for clothing, and having recently hidden your own jewelry from Compress, you have a good idea of where to look for concealed objects. Rather than helping with the search, Dabi’s gone looking for food, but in spite of the fact that he’s found whatever the CRC was planning to eat at the conclusion of their meeting, he’s still in a mood. “Why are we doing this? Wasn’t the point of the supply caches so we wouldn’t have to?”

“This wasn’t just for food and a place to sleep. It was about taking out the trash, same as dealing with Overhaul was.” Tomura starts picking through the food. You sit Spinner down to check out his injury. “There’s no place for them in the new world.”

Dabi makes a derisive noise, and nobody else is paying attention – but you’re right up close with Spinner, and you see his eyes widen. “The new world?” he asks quietly. “I’ve never heard him say that before. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

You nod. “You should ask him.”

“No, you should tell me so I can decide if I want to know. I – ow.”

“Sorry,” you say. “Do you know what this is from?”

“It was a pitchfork. Classic, right?” Spinner scowls, grimaces, while you explore the wounds. They’re deep, but not deep enough to do real muscle or organ damage. Infection will be the biggest risk – like it usually is. “How’d you know about the CRC? Most people who have quirks like mine – don’t.”

“Most big cities have CRC offshoots. Yokohama’s no different.” You clean out the wounds one at a time, doing your best to be gentle. “They have neighborhoods they hang out in, and the clinic I worked in sat near the border of one. People they attack come to the clinic for treatment. Or hide in there to get away. The CRC are, um –”

“Top-flight assholes.”

“Yeah.” You pick up some bandages and a roll of medical tape. “I shouldn’t have talked over you earlier. I just didn’t want you to have to explain.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad somebody else knew what I was talking about.” Spinner gives you a curious look. “How are you doing with all this?”

“This?”

“Being on the run.”

“Oh,” you say. “It’s fine.”

It’s been three weeks since you took a leave of absence from work and ran for the hills, and since then, life’s been broken up into long periods of travel and short periods of stillness. Kurogiri was captured by the heroes sometime after the temporary alliance with Overhaul was made, which means that overland travel at night is the only way the seven of you can get anywhere without getting in trouble. You aren’t doing hardly any fighting, and your medical skills are only needed when somebody needs patching up, but you’re keeping busy in spite of that. You’re still the only person the police aren’t looking for.

Scouting, supply runs, running interference if the daytime hiding place is at risk of being found – all of it falls to you. You’re supposed to be a medic. On a day-to-day basis, you’re logistical support. It’s exhausting, but not particularly dangerous. It feels more like a hard day’s work than anything else, and at the end of it, you’re with Tomura, which is the important thing. You’re there to remind him that a new world can be built after the old one’s been destroyed, to convince him that the new world is something he wants to be a part of. That’s your job now, more than anything else.

Tomura comes over to check on you and Spinner. “How bad is it?”

“Painful, but they aren’t deep,” you report. “I’ll monitor them, but the infection risk is low so long as we all stay clean.”

“That’s the hard part,” Spinner mumbles. “It’s too cold to take baths outside.”

“Saintess said no more baths outside anyway,” Twice calls from the other side of the room. “Since some people can’t swim.”

“You can say Tomura-kun,” Toga says. “It’s okay.”

The realization that Tomura can’t swim was an unpleasant one for everybody, since it necessitated yanking him out of an icy pond while avoiding contact with his quirk. Twice and his clones came in handy, and nothing bad happened other than embarrassment on Tomura’s part, but it’s still not an experience you want anybody to repeat. “We’ll find ways. Worst comes to worst, I’ll rent us a motel room.”

“One motel room for all of us? You’d be doing the heroes’ work for them,” Dabi sneers. “If I have to sleep in a confined space with all of you, you’ll be dead by dawn.”

“Fine. The roof of the hypothetical motel room is all yours.”

Tomura looks irritated. “He’s this close to being more trouble than he’s worth,” he says in a low voice. “We could cut him loose without the risk he’d turn us in. He hates heroes as much as I do.”

“Yeah, but he’s our only ranged attack,” Spinner says practically. “I say stick it out.”

Tomura glances at you. You hate it when he does that on questions about strategy. “Keep him,” you agree. “He’s all talk.”

Tomura nods, still dissatisfied. Spinner looks a little nervous about it, but you aren’t – it’ll dissipate, like most of Tomura’s bad moods do sooner or later. He’s moody, but not volatile. “Do you want food?” he asks abruptly. You nod. After a second, so does Spinner, and Tomura gets up and walks away.

“Is he really getting food for us?” Spinner asks. You nod again. “And you’re sure about the new world thing. It’s not going to piss him off if I ask?”

You shake your head. Tomura mentioned Spinner specifically as someone you should talk about it with, but you think the idea itself should come from Tomura. The mission all of you are on is Tomura’s dream, really – you’re just trying to make sure it doesn’t kill him.

Tomura comes back with some of the food that Dabi scavenged, passes it out, and sits down next to you to eat. Spinner waits until Tomura’s mouth is full before he asks. “So, uh – you mentioned a new world. What’s that about?”

“Ask her.”

“No.” You glare at Tomura. “I’m your sidekick. It’s your idea. Tell him like you told me.”

“I’m not telling him like that,” Tomura says, and you elbow him, exasperated. He’s smirking slightly behind the hand as he addresses Spinner. “The old world has to be destroyed. Once it’s gone there’s a blank slate. And you –”

You elbow him again. “We get to decide what it should be like,” Tomura corrects himself. “Mainly her. And the two of you should talk about it, because you have ideas, too. Right?”

“Uh –”

“Anti-discrimination laws,” you suggest. Tomura snorts. “Come on. Anarchy isn’t sustainable long-term. A new world won’t automatically be better than the old one. If we don’t want it to be worse, we have to make sure it isn’t.”

“If you say so.” Tomura wolfs down his last few bites of food, then lies down, stretching out with his head in your lap. “I’m done planning for today.”

You can tell Spinner doesn’t like seeing Tomura call it quits when there are things to do. You make eye contact with him and try to bridge the gap. “You wouldn’t have checked out from the world if you thought it was a good place to be. Tell me what’s wrong with it.”

You and Spinner talk a bit while Tomura dozes, but things are winding down, and eventually the League barricades the front door, shuts the windows, and retreats into two of the back rooms to sleep. Tomura stirs when everyone else leaves, but when you try to get up, he won’t let you. “We can’t sleep out here,” you remind him.

Tenko kisses you. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

“Tenko –”

He cuts you off with another kiss, one hand sliding inside your jacket, the other dipping into the pocket where you keep his gloves. Tenko’s hair is getting long. You weave your fingers through it as he puts on the gloves, trying to ground yourself, to find a second of calm. You know there won’t be any once Tenko gets his gloves on.

In retrospect, having sex with Tenko for the first time the night before you went on the run might not have been the best idea, because Tenko’s been taking advantage of every second where the others are looking away ever since. In some ways it’s hot. You’ve never had a boyfriend who’s this handsy with you, this addicted to you, and the fact that Tenko barely cares about being caught in the middle of something makes it even better. But as hot as it is, you’re not sure about doing whatever Tenko’s got in mind in a place where at least two dozen people just died.

You don’t even know what he’s got in mind. “Tenko,” you mumble as his lips press against your neck. He bites down slightly and you shiver. “What are you doing?”

“Give me a second.” He’s leaving marks. One at the side of your mouth, one down against your shoulder, and you feel almost uncomfortably hot at the idea that it’ll all be visible without your veil. “Don’t rush me.”

You’re not going to rush him, but your discomfort is building, and if you don’t do something soon, it’ll be too late. You plant your hand on Tenko’s chest and push him back, crawling over him to press your lips against his. You know Tenko likes it when you show you want him, and it’s not hard for you to do. It’s not the idea of hooking up right now that bothers you – more the venue, and you find yourself caring less and less about it with every second that passes. Something is wrong with you.

Knowing that doesn’t stop you from straddling Tenko’s lap, grinding against him. There are multiple layers of clothing between you, but you know he’s getting hard, and you can pretend that the heat between your legs is the result of his touch rather than simple friction. Tenko’s kisses are eager and messy. His hands slide beneath your shirt, up from your waist to your breasts – but your bra is in the way. He taps it impatiently and speaks without pulling away. “I hate this thing.”

“I taught you how to unhook it.”

“Still.” In fairness to Tenko, you’re wearing a front-fastening bra. “I’m banning these in the new world.”

“You don’t get to ban stuff in the new world unless you’re planning to be in it,” you say, and your heart leaps when he doesn’t argue. Then you think about it. “Hate groups, heroes, and bras. That’s really what you want to get rid of?”

“I’ll think of other stuff,” Tenko says, unconcerned. He unfastens your bra, then runs his gloved fingers along the underside of your breasts. One of your nipples is captured between his thumb and forefinger, and he tugs and pinches lightly at it, making you squirm. “This is a good start.”

You hate it when he does this. You hate how much you like it. The friction between your legs provides the only relief, so you grind further into Tenko’s lap, looking for more. “Stop,” Tenko says, an edge to his voice. “Don’t do that if we can’t –”

“Who said we can’t?” You made one last addition to your med kit before you left, hidden in an inside pocket. You slide your backpack off your shoulders, reach inside, and produce one of several condoms. Tenko’s eyes widen. “What do you think?”

He slides his hands out from under your shirt to pull at your leggings and underwear. You decide that counts as a yes. Getting out of your clothes is a pain – your boots have to come off, followed by your leggings, followed by your underwear. Your boring underwear, according to Toga when she helped you pack. A thought crosses your mind, and like your thoughts usually do when you and Tenko are together, it comes out of your mouth. “Do you think my underwear is boring?”

“I think it’s in the way.”

You weren’t sure there was a right answer, but that counts. You kiss Tenko and work on unbuttoning his pants. It’s much less of a production for him, and once his cock is free, you can’t resist taking him in hand for a few strokes. Tenko’s body tenses in response, and you watch as his red eyes dilate. He picks up the condom on his own this time, putting it on with sharp, frantic movements, and as soon as it’s in place, you shift forward, lining up and sinking down onto his cock.

All the air leaves your lungs, and Tenko’s breath hisses out from between his teeth as you settle fully into his lap. “You didn’t give me a second,” he mumbles, his voice strained. A questioning sound is all you can manage in response. “I was going to eat you out.”

Your stomach ties itself in a knot instantly. You shift your weight, drawing your attention to the stretch and pressure of Tenko’s cock inside you instead of on what he just said – or maybe you’re trying to get him to stop talking. You’re not sure which. Either, way, it doesn’t work. “We haven’t done that yet,” he continues. Riding him isn’t shutting him up. You try kissing instead, but leaning forward to do it leads to an unsustainable change in pace, one that leaves you gasping. “I like how you taste.”

Tenko’s hands are on your hips, holding on with an iron grip. You were trying to set a faster pace, but his hold on you forces you to slow down, prolonging the slide of his cock against the most sensitive spots inside you and making you shudder. You wish you’d taken off more of your clothes. You feel hot and shaky all over and somehow even more out of control than you did when you were underneath him the first time. Tenko’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated so far that his irises are noting more than a thin red rim. His hips lift slowly beneath you as his hand leaves your hip to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss.

Tenko’s pace is slow and intense, almost agonizing. Your legs are trembling so badly that you couldn’t maintain a rhythm of your own if you wanted to. Tenko holds on even as his control deteroiorates, while he twitches beneath you and moans into the kiss. When you draw back to breathe, you find his eyes squeezed shut. A tear leaks from beneath one of his eyelids, and you stare for a moment in shock before leaning in to kiss it away.

From there you kiss the scar over his right eye, the one you’ve never asked about, just like you’ve never asked about the one on his mouth – the location of your next kiss, once you’ve decided against kissing the birthmark on the other side. Tenko sucks down a breath, mumbles your name. Then: “I love you,” he says. Your stomach twists again, this time with anxiety. It doesn’t make a difference to Tenko – he moans and thrusts sharply upwards. Your body shifts independent of your mind, making sure his cock hits the right spot. “Fuck. I can’t – I love you –”

Whatever unspoken rule there is against saying I love you during sex, Tenko’s clearly never heard of it, and seeing and feeling him fall apart between your legs sends you over the edge in a few seconds more. For a moment, your mind goes totally blank, and in the absence of thought or restraint, the worlds almost slip out of your mouth, trailing after his name. “Tenko. Tenko –”

I love you. The weight of it keeps you silent. But only just.

Tenko doesn’t comment on the fact that you haven’t said it back. He never does, which is a relief. You’ve shown that you love him, and you’ll show it again, so it doesn’t need to be said. What does have to be said is the same thing you said last time. “We can’t sleep like this.”

“I know.” The sulky note in his voice almost makes you laugh.

By the time the two of you retreat to the back rooms, some of your anxiety’s worn off, and like always, you feel better once Tenko’s asleep next to you. You have him. All For One can’t take him away from you. He belongs to you, and you’ll keep him with you, through the end of the world and into the new one. The thought comforts you, but it’s not comforting enough to fall asleep on. You’re awake most of the night, like you have been for months.

The League of Villains is awake and in motion before dawn, heading towards Kurogiri’s last pre-capture coordinates. You’re not sure what’s waiting there. Tomura isn’t sure, either – just that it’s something his master left for him, some power that’s supposed to help him reach his goal. Dabi’s theory is that it’s some kind of super-Nomu, while Spinner thinks it’s a weapon. “What kind of weapon?” Twice asks. “Like a sword?”

“No, like a really big gun.”

The idea of Tomura with a really big gun is inexplicably entertaining to you. You struggle to muffle your laughter. “My quirk is better than a gun,” Tomura says. “If it’s a gun, Spinner, it’s yours.”

“Shouldn’t it be mine?” you ask. Tomura looks askance at you. “I don’t have a quirk or a real weapon. And I’m an okay shot.”

“In Call of Duty,” Tomura says. Spinner wheezes. “It’s a game.”

“We should get you a gun,” Toga decides. “Those creepy yakuza guys had one, and they had quirks. You should definitely have one, because you don’t.”

“A gun or a quirk?”

“Both,” Dabi says. He stops walking, and you walk directly into him. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Twice asks, and makes a fart joke that has Toga and Spinner groaning. “I gotta tell you, Dabi, if you can feel them –”

“There it is again,” Dabi says. He twists around to look at you. This time, you picked up on it, and so did Tomura. “What is that?”

“If I knew I’d say it,” Tomura snaps. “Sensei didn’t tell me.”

“You should have asked. If you had asked, then we wouldn’t be –” Dabi breaks off as the vibration strikes a third time, hard enough to make all of you stagger. A plume of dust rises from between the hills ahead of you. “What the hell is that?”

Not a hill. It’s not a hill. What you thought was a hill is the curved back of some giant thing, and now it’s straightening up, getting to its feet. It rears up, taller than you and everybody else by orders of magnitude, and you see that it’s human-shaped. Its features are craggy, like it’s been carved inexpertly from rough stone. Looking at it, it’s hard not to imagine that this is what Kurogiri was looking for, and it’s impossible for you to imagine that he was unable to find it – or that the heroes didn’t find it, too. All For One didn’t leave Tomura a weapon. He left him a mountain that walks.

The mountain-that-walks steps towards the group of you, rattling your bones on every step. “Master’s heir,” it says, in a voice that sounds like rocks shattering. “Where is he?”

Tomura steps forward. “Here.”

For a few moments they’re simply looking at each other, Tomura looking up and the mountain staring down. Then the mountain’s face distorts, an anguished howl issuing from a mouth filled with jagged teeth. “No! He’s too weak!”

“What?” Tomura snarls. The giant is clawing up dirt and stone from the ground, looking for something. For a weapon. Your blood turns to ice, but Tomura steps forward. “If you think you can just –”

“Die!”

The giant hurls a massive chunk of stone at Tomura, and you throw yourself forward, too, hitting Tomura in the back and knocking you both to the ground. You land hard, biting the inside of your cheek as the rock crashes down in the same spot as Tomura was standing a split second ago. The giant wails again, tears running down its face. “Weak,” it howls. “Too weak. Master, how could you do this to me?”

You’ve got seconds before it throws something else. It’s already looking around for another weapon. You drag Tomura to his feet and pull him away, ducking around the boulder and back to the League. “We need to get out of here.”

“Right now!” Spinner looks just as scared as you feel, which makes two of you who are reacting normally. “If we split up and run –”

“Outrun that thing? No way.” Dabi’s face splits into an eerie grin. “We’ll fight, right, Shigaraki? Or is that thing right about you?”

Tomura yanks his arm free of your grip and takes off toward the giant, throwing an order over his shoulder. “Get her out of here, Spinner!”

It makes sense. Spinner’s quirk doesn’t equip him well for a fight like this, just like your lack of a quirk doesn’t equip you at all. Spinner doesn’t look insulted at being stuck on girlfriend protection duty, and you’re not opposed to getting out of here – except you’ve got a job to do. “I’m the medic. I can’t leave!”

“If they get hit, there will be nothing to fix,” Compress says shortly. Your stomach turns at the thought of Tomura being struck by a flying boulder or getting crushed in the giant’s fist until he’s nothing more than a bloody smear in the dirt. “And he won’t be effective if he’s worried about your safety. Get clear.”

A wave of blue fire fills your vision, then dissipates. Toga’s voice is bordering on a shriek. “That didn’t work, Dabi!”

If Dabi’s flames aren’t having any effect, this opponent’s too dangerous for the League. Tomura’s the only one who could take the giant down, but he’d have to get close. There’s a horrible crash from somewhere ahead of you, and Spinner grabs your arm. “Let’s go!”

You balk again, agonized, but then you hear a voice – one that’s not the giant’s, not Tomura’s, not Dabi’s. Someone else. “How are you, Shigaraki? Are you well?”

“Sure,” Tomura says, tense and frustrated, “but I might be mincemeat in a second.”

“Then let’s have a chat, shall we? Stand by.”

Stand by for what? The giant’s coming. You can’t stand by. You all have to run. You try to say that, but suddenly a foul taste pervades your mouth, and it fills with something slimy, something that makes you cough and gag. Everyone else is doing the same. You hear Dabi curse, the words muffled and then choked off entirely. Your own body contorts in discomfort, and when you force your eyes open, you see black slime emerging from the others’ mouths, engulfing them entirely, engulfing you. It obscures your vision, and when you open your eyes, you’re somewhere else entirely.

It’s some kind of warp quirk, and overall, you much prefer Kurogiri’s. You glance around at your surroundings, just like the others are doing. They’re completely unfamiliar – an enormous room, high-ceilinged and dark. The only light comes from the tall capsules filled with bodies suspended in glowing liquid on either side of you, and from a bright screen up ahead. In front of the screen sits a man.

The location looks unfamiliar. But as you cough and struggle to clear the taste of the sludge from your mouth, you catch a familiar smell. Rot. Like a morgue, and suddenly you know exactly where you are. It was even darker last time, but the smell is unmistakable. This is where you met All For One.

All For One’s not here, and you have a feeling about who the man is, a feeling that’s confirmed a moment later when Tomura speaks. “Doctor,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed. I always intended to reach out, but I wanted to see how you would do on your own. It’s been –” the doctor makes a displeased sound. “Underwhelming.”

“What part of taking down the Shie Hassaikai is underwhelming?”

“The fact that it wasn’t your doing. The heroes did the lion’s share of the work,” the doctor says, “while the lot of you merely swooped in, crippled Overhaul after he had already been captured, and kidnapped a child – only to return her. If you’d held onto her, I would have reached out sooner. That was quite a quirk you let slip through your fingers.”

“That wasn’t him. That was me,” you say. You’re not about to let Tomura take the fall for something you did, particularly when you aren’t at all sorry you did it. “If you’d reached out and let us know you were interested, I might have held onto her.”

You wouldn’t have, but there’s no need for the doctor to know that. He rises from his chair and turns to face you. “And who were you to make the determination to let her go?”

“I’m the one who’d have wound up taking care of her,” you say. You already didn’t like the doctor – the fact that he refused to care for Tomura when he was hurt leaves a bad taste in your mouth – but you like him even less now. You keep yourself conciliatory with an effort. “We didn’t have the capability to contain her quirk long-term. It was too much of a risk.”

“And you allow your underlings to make those decisions, Shigaraki?”

“I trust my comrades’ judgement,” Tomura says. “The League of Villains is functional whether we’re working as a group or not.”

“It’s quite a group,” the doctor says. “Let’s see – one teenage girl, one societal reject, two petty criminals, a serial arsonist and murderer, and a civilian to round things out.”

“You went with ‘civilian’ for Saintess? Really?” Dabi never says your codename with anything less than scorn. “Try quirkless next time. Then you’d be eight for eight.”

Now that you think about it, it’s weird that he targeted your lack of a record, when anyone else would agree that your quirklessness is the larger problem. The doctor ignores Dabi. “Still, it’s a team worth paying attention to – and perhaps worth helping, depending on what you intend to use them for. What do you intend to do with them?”

“Destroy All Might.”

The doctor tsks. “Those are your master’s words, and you aren’t him. Try again.”

“Destroy hero society.”

Tomura sounds like he’s taking a test. Taking one, and failing it. The doctor tsks again. “Close, but not quite.”

“Destroy everything,” Tomura snaps, and the doctor smiles. That smile cements your dislike for him for good. “Everything I see, I hate. There’s nothing about this world that’s worth saving, so I’ll destroy it all at once.”

Toga makes a skeptical sound. “What about me, Tomura? Are you even going to destroy the things I like?”

“There’s always room for my comrades’ wishes,” Tomura says. Toga grins. Tomura glances sideways, meets your eyes, then faces the doctor again. “My comrades can’t live as they want in this world. I can’t live in it at all. So I’ll tear it down, brick by brick, atom by atom, until there’s nothing left in our way.”

“Anarchy, then?”

“Anarchy’s not sustainable,” Tomura says, and you find yourself hiding a smile under your veil. “What happens next isn’t my problem. My comrades can choose what to do.”

“What if I don’t want to do anything?” Twice asks. “I want to drink coffee and eat sushi.”

“Ugh,” Dabi mutters. “I don’t give a shit about any of it. As long as nobody stops me from doing what I need to do.”

Every so often, Dabi alludes to some mission of his, trying to lure one of you into asking so he can tell you to fuck off. You’ve all learned to ignore it by now. “As long as the things I like are here, I don’t care what happens,” Toga says. “Everybody else can choose.”

It’s quiet after that, other than Twice musing out loud about whether sushi and coffee go together even slightly. The doctor raises his eyebrows. “Three of you are awfully quiet. Compress, Spinner, Saintess – what plans do you have after you’ve helped Shigaraki destroy everything?”

“I’m keeping my options open,” Compress says. “A true performer waits for the right moment to claim the spotlight.”

The doctor lets that go, probably because Compress is a real adult and not somebody he feels like kicking around. He faces you and Spinner. “The shut-in and the civilian. What will you do?”

Spinner opens his mouth and you cut him off. “I’ll do what Shigaraki asks of me,” you say. It’s not a lie – he’s asked you to build the new world, and you’ll do it as long as he agrees to live in it with you. “I’m his sidekick. That’s my job.”

“I’m not a sidekick, but I’ll do what Shigaraki asks, too.” Spinner’s smart enough not to bring up Tomura’s instructions about the new world. “I don’t have my own vision. I’ll follow the person with the best one.”

“And you believe Shigaraki’s vision is the best one.”

“Yes.” Spinner doesn’t hesitate.

“Remarkable,” the doctor says, but he doesn’t follow up with Spinner. Instead he turns to you. “I have no need to question your loyalty to Shigaraki. You had more to lose in following him than the others.”

More to lose, sure – but losing him would have been worse. The doctor returns his attention to Tomura. “It seems you do have some degree of vision, as warped and simplistic as it may be. And you are capable of inspiring some degree of loyalty. The situation is not as dire as I originally thought.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s still rather dire,” the doctor says, like Tomura’s acceptance of the backhanded compliment wasn’t the most sarcastic thing you’ve ever heard him say. “Still, I’ll assist you on a limited basis for now.”

“How limited?”

“Some financial support. You’re still lacking in that department. That being said,” the doctor continues, “I can promise significantly more should you convince Gigantomachia to submit to you. He was your master’s most powerful servant. If he accepts your rule, I’ll throw my considerable resources behind you.”

“So we have to fight him until he quits?” Dabi sounds skeptical. “Fuck that. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

“Like what?” Spinner asks.

“There’s a potential ally I’m cultivating. If I’m right about him, it’ll be a coup for us. Way more than converting some random civilian.”

Tomura’s shoulders tense, and you pray he’ll let it slide – and he does. “I look forward to meeting them.”

“While you’re doing that, perhaps you can assist with the testing of a Nomu,” the doctor says. So he’s the one who makes them. You weren’t sure. “I’ve created a class of high-tiers, far more powerful than the Nomu Shigaraki deployed at USJ, and they’re ready to be tested against powerful heroes.”

Dabi looks like he’s about to tell the doctor to fuck off. Then he tilts his head, considering. “How powerful of a hero do you want?”

“As powerful as you can secure. If I’m correct about the strength of the high-tiers, lesser heroes will fall before them easily.”

Dabi cracks a nasty grin. “I’ve got somebody in mind.”

“Excellent. As for the rest of you –” the doctor snaps his fingers, and the smallest Nomu you’ve ever seen scurries forward. It’s carrying a box, and when you look closer, you see that it contains earpieces. “Take these. This is how I’ll contact you from now on.”

You each step forward to take them. “This is really it?” Twice asks, not all that quietly. “We just have to get the big guy to bow down?”

“It won’t be easy,” the doctor says. “His strength and stamina are unmatched. I’ll be very impressed if any of you survive.”

Spinner looks worried. You’re worried, too. Tomura isn’t. “Thanks for the tutorial,” he says to the doctor. You’re last in line to collect your earpiece, and you tuck it into your ear. “Send us back. I feel motivated all of a sudden.”

The doctor signals something – another tiny Nomu – and black sludge begins to erupt from the others’ mouths. The others’ mouths, but not yours. You look to Tomura, a surge of panic rising within you, and Tomura reaches out, his fingers closing on your sleeve for a split second before the warp tears him away. He’s gone. They’re all gone, and you’re alone in here. With the bodies floating in the glass capsules and the two tiny Nomus and the doctor.

You have the knife Spinner gave you strapped to your back, concealed with your backpack, but you don’t know the doctor’s quirk, and you still can’t fight. The only way out of here is if the doctor decides to let you go. “Sir, please –”

“Manners for me, too? I’m glad to see that someone in Shigaraki’s gang of misfits respects common courtesy.” The doctor smiles. It’s not quite a leer, but it’s enough to make your skin crawl. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll send you back to your master in short order. I just need to run some tests.”

“Tests?” you say uncertainly. “What kind of tests?”

“Nothing too painful, or too invasive.” The doctor beckons you closer, and you take a few hesitant steps. You don’t want him to get mad at you. This, whatever it is, will be worse if he’s angry. “All For One had a hunch when he met you, and I’d like to confirm it. You want to be as useful to your master as possible, don’t you?”

You don’t like that he keeps calling Tenko your master, but you do want to be as useful as possible. You nod. “Excellent. Hold out your hand,” the doctor says. You do, at which point he jabs a needle attached to an electrode into the meat of your palm. You yelp in pain. “Oh, hush. Has anyone explained the theory of quirk latency to you?”

Even with your palm stinging, even in fear for your life, you can’t help rolling your eyes. “Yes.”

“And you seem not to set much store by it.”

“It’s a lie,” you say. “Something they tell quirkless children so we’ll stay hopeful instead of recognizing how the world really sees us.”

“Explain it for me.”

The needle in your palm is buzzing. It feels like there are insects crawling beneath your skin. “Quirk latency theory suggests that the majority of people who appear to be quirkless are not. Instead, they possess latent quirks – quirks that don’t manifest for the first time unless certain conditions are met, and if those conditions are never met, the person in question appears to be quirkless for their entire life.”

The doctor yanks the sensor out of your palm. “Give an example.”

“If someone’s quirk is driving stick-shift perfectly,” you say. It’s the example you heard in school. It was stupid then and it’s stupid now. “It’ll never show up if they never get behind the wheel of a stick-shift car.”

“Sounds plausible, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter,” you say. The doctor wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm. At least, it looks like a blood pressure cuff – when it constricts, it jabs dozens of needles into your bicep, and you whimper in pain. You can slice into your skin without blinking, but it’s different when someone else is in control. “If it never manifests and you never know what it is, it’s the same as not having one at all.”

“Mm. I suppose.” The blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm agonizingly tight, then beeps and releases. The doctor peels it away. “Your decision to release the girl, while frustrating on a professional level, was the correct decision with regard to Shigaraki’s survival. Lift the veil.”

“Sir –”

“I know your face already. Lift it.”

You raise the edge and flip it back, at which point the doctor stuffs a thermometer into your mouth. That one doesn’t stab you, but he jabs a needle into your lower lip a second later. A mask lowers over your eyes, ringed in tiny needles just like the cuff, and all the needles deliver a low, buzzing shock. The thermometer in your mouth beeps, but the doctor doesn’t remove it. “It’s intriguing that Shigaraki selected you, of all people, to serve as his sidekick – but far more intriguing is the fact that you accepted the role. All For One had charisma. The strength of his character drew others to him, and his wealth and benevolence certainly didn’t hurt. Shigaraki Tomura possesses nothing of the kind. How on earth did he entice a civilian away from what for all intents and purposes appeared to be a relatively normal, happy life?”

Not by being Shigaraki Tomura – and not just by being Shimura Tenko. You call him different names depending on who you’re with, but he’s the same person, the same man, regardless of whether you use the name given to him by his master or his father. The thermometer in your mouth beeps sharply, and the doctor extracts it in a hurry, followed by the needle in your lip. Then he lifts the eye mask away. Next he slaps electrodes onto your temples, the sides of your neck, your forehead, your chest – the same microneedles, the same electric shocks. You clench your jaw against the pain. You’re not going to make another sound.

Why are you letting this happen? The same reason you let Overhaul touch you, the same reason you didn’t give in to panic when All For One’s hand descended over your face. You’re doing it for Tenko, so you can stay with Tenko, so no one will try to take you away from him or take him away from you. When you think of it like that, it’s – not easy to survive, exactly. But it’s easier. Easy enough that the chorus of stings and shocks from the last set of electrodes don’t visibly break your composure.

It’s only once you’re free of electrodes and needles that you remember you were asked a question – and that you don’t remember what it was. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your question. Would you mind repeating it?”

“Don’t worry. You’ve answered it,” the doctor says. “And All For One’s hunch about you was correct. You’re a victim of quirk latency. You are not quirkless.”

You look blankly at him. Your skin is stinging in a dozen places, and there’s an unpleasant buzz in your nerves. “The tests I just conducted were tests of the most common locations of quirk factors,” the doctor says. “The hands, the eyes, the mouth and nose – when receiving certain types of stimulation, quirk factors produce an abnormal response. I was unable to identify a discrete quirk factor for you, which indicates that your quirk is not vulnerable to external attack. Overhaul, Shigaraki, Compress – remove their hands, and they’re useless. Your quirk factor, however, can’t be separated from your body so easily.”

He's looking at you, clearly pleased with himself, clearly waiting for you to respond in kind. “I don’t have a quirk,” you say. Your instruments are wrong.”

“My instruments are never wrong,” the doctor says. “Neither is All For One. You have a quirk, my dear. It’s latent, and without a discrete quirk factor, we have few clues as to what it might be, but make no mistake, a quirk is present. You said you wish to be as useful to Shigaraki as possible. Imagine how much more useful you’d be with your quirk.”

“I don’t have a quirk.” You know you shouldn’t argue, that you should pretend to be happy or at least let it go, but you can’t. You’re quirkless. That’s it. That’s all you’ll ever be. “If I had an actual quirk factor, maybe I’d believe you. But those abnormal reactions – you jabbed needles into my face and shocked me. Of course my system acted up.”

“Your system reacted normally to the electric current. What indicated the presence of a quirk factor was something else. Don’t question me, my dear. This is my area of expertise.” The doctor’s smile is horrendously smug. “I’m tempted to keep you here, and send you back to Shigaraki once we’ve awakened your quirk –”

“No!”

You clamp your hands over your mouth too late to silence yourself, and the doctor continues speaking like you didn’t say a word. “But I’d prefer that Shigaraki stays focused on mastering Gigantomachia, rather than hunting me down to retrieve his favorite toy. I’ll send you back, but well away from the battlefield. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before we’ve discovered your quirk.”

You know better by now than to argue about whether you have a quirk or not. You nod mutely, and since you have your mouth shut, the black sludge oozes from your nose instead. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the taste and the sensation to fade, and when you open y our eyes again, you’re on a wooded hillside somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There are clouds of dust rising in the distance, and in the midst of them, you can see Gigantomachia’s silhouette. Tenko’s already fighting him.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you take it out. Twice has been messaging you. A lot.

Twice: Saintess

Twice: hey Saintess

Twice: are y coming back or what

Twice: I k already had to make ten clones of Shigaraki to go get smashed because the real one can’t focus long enough to fight the big guy

Twice: sorry TWELVE clones

Twice: i won’t make any more fart jokes if you come back right now

Twice: WHERE R U HES GOING BERSERK

Damn it. You call Twice, praying he’s not up close and personal with Gigantomachia right now, and he picks up on the first ring. It’s colossally noisy on his end of the line and you find yourself having to shout. “Hey! Tell Tomura I’m fine and tell him to get his head back in the game!”

“Hey, you’re back! What took you so long? I – hey, boss, you might want to get back out there –”

“Make another clone,” Tomura snarls, and a moment later you hear his ragged breathing on the line. “What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. He just wanted to talk. I’ll tell you about it the next time we have a second.” You speak quickly, calmly, even though the sound of Tomura’s voice and the fact that he’s worried about you are this close to making you burst into tears. “He dropped me off away from the battle so I wouldn’t get trampled. I’ll make my way back. Just focus.”

“Drop a pin. Spinner and Toga will come get you.” Tomura swears into the phone a moment later. “It’s not fucking fine. He can’t just –”

“Just focus,” you say again. “We’ll talk. Be careful.”

“I love you.”

Your heart twists. “Be careful,” you say again, and you hang up the phone.

You drop the pin as requested, then use your phone camera to check out the damage the doctor’s tests did. It doesn’t look good. Your lower lip is swollen, and you’ve got a rash around your eyes and your forehead and your neck — everywhere a microneedle went in. Your eyes are puffy, maybe from the needles, maybe from wanting to cry this much and holding it in. But maybe you shouldn’t hold it in. You’ve got some time before Spinner and Toga get to you. Maybe you should just get it out of your system. You sit down on a rock, bury your face in your hands, and cry, but the longer you cry, the worse it gets. A quirk. The doctor says you have a stupid quirk, and your whole life –

You can’t think about it. You can’t stop. You have to stop right now before anybody sees, and with no one else to turn to, you find yourself turning to a coping mechanism you thought you gave up on. It was nice of Spinner to give you the knife. You know for a fact you weren’t supposed to use it for this.

But it works. You wouldn’t do it if it didn’t, and by the time Spinner and Toga come to get you, you’re neatly bandaged under your shirt and sitting behind your veil with dry eyes. “Where have you been?” Toga asks. “Tomura-kun was really upset.”

“The doctor and I needed to talk about something. It’s all okay now.” Your voice sounds perfectly steady, and you’re perfectly calm. The doctor is wrong. You don’t have a quirk. You’ve never had a quirk, and since you’ve never had a quirk, your entire life hasn’t been built around dealing with something that was never even true. “How’s Tomura?”

“If we didn’t have Twice, we’d be screwed,” Spinner says. He looks grim. “Let’s go. Somebody’s probably going to be hurt by the time we get there.”

“What did the doctor want to talk to you about?” Toga asks as the three of you hike through the woods. “Something fun?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “He just wanted to give me a hard time about letting Eri go.”

It’s a safe lie, you think. One the others will buy, if Toga’s reminiscing about how cute Eri is are anything to go by. The real question will be if you can sell that same lie to Tenko. You think you probably can. You’ve lied to him directly before. And you’ve lied by omission, every time he tells you he loves you and you don’t say it back.

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