#wonder cement company

[wondercementpvtltd]

Over the last couple of months, the earthquake has proved to be the deadliest natural disaster. You can read the blog to get some basic ideas about modern earthquake-resistant building construction techniques.

[scoriarose]

The Language of Love

If you are already convinced snakes are incapable of love, this post is not for you. But if you are open to the possibility that maybe they do, and maybe they love us too, this post explores that thought. Perhaps snakes feel it differently, perhaps they feel it the same humans do- though even humans experience love, be it platonic or romantic, differently from individual to individual. Different people also show their love in different ways as well! Yet still even with a divide between species most of us have felt love from our furry and feathered friends. Perhaps our scaly friends are also telling us they love us, we just might not understand.

When I first got my girl Scoria, if I could tell her only one thing it would be, "I love you." When I held her, I wondered if she understood how much I cared about her, and would do anything to protect her. When I pet her, I wondered if she knew how amazing I thought she was and enjoyed spending time with her.

And then I started watching livestreams of wild snakes, and how they act toward each other. (The above still is from Project Rattle Cam!) When the babies see a trusted adult, they slither all over them! How many times had my girl happily slithered all over me going no where in particular? I imagine that my finger petting her soft as a feather was probably quite similar to another snake greeting her in such a way.

Sakura is much more shy, yet wants to form a bond with me. I see it when she fights her fear to vibe with me. Sometimes she'll sit for hours at the edge of her tank nearest me, not wanting to come out, but just be near me.

Snakes like rattlesnakes and garter snakes will vibe peacefully with each other, with baby rattlesnakes sleeping near the adult rattlesnakes they trust to keep them safe.

Perhaps, when our shy snakes sits with us, facing their fears they're saying, "I'm scared, but I want to be closer with you." And maybe when our snakes slither all over us, going nowhere in particular, like their wild counterparts do with each other they're saying, "I'm so happy to see you! You're my favorite to be with!" I wonder if they could tell us one thing it would be "I love you, best friend!" And it's okay, best friend. I love you too, and already know. <3

[bestcementcompany]

Common Terms in Construction: Understanding the Language of Cement and Building

Understanding the basics of these construction terms can significantly impact the quality, durability, and safety of a building project. By selecting high-grade materials, especially cement, and following the right practices, builders can create structures that stand the test of time. Wonder Cement is committed to providing superior cement solutions, ensuring that each project, whether big or small, is built to last.

[roanofarcc]

A MISJUDGMENT

pairing. tyler owens x fem!reader

summary. when kate drags you back to the home for a one-week stint to help out one of her old friends, you meet tyler owens. the uncouth cowboy and his reckless actions when dealing with something as dangerous as tornados almost instantly prick your nerves until you realize maybe there's more to the cowboy than meets the eye.

warnings. description of tornados, a curse word or two, slightly inaccurate meteorological info, reader is from the midwest.

word count. 2k || masterlist

a.n. did not expect my other fic to get so much love!! sending kisses to everyone who sent me such nice words <3 and I am having a ball with all of the wonderful requests I'm getting!!

The difference between the Oklahoma and New York was more jarring than you remembered. The wide-open skies and fields that stretched for miles were a distantly familiar sight as you stepped out of the truck. You had grown up in the Midwest, smack dab in the middle of tornado alley, which meant your youth was spent listening to your cautious mother warn you every tornado season of the dangers the storms posed so you’d always be prepared when worst came to worst. You’d hunkered down more time than you could count in your storm cellar, listening to doors rattling and the radio speak. Your father was less cautious; he enjoyed watching the storms roll in on the front porch as he listened to the distant hum of sirens. 

You’d never been a fan of storms, not like your father. They made you nervous; the unpredictably and devastating destruction wasn’t something you found fascinating enough to chase.

Moving to New York was a culture shock but you were lucky enough to score to a job working in tandem with someone who also grew up in tornado alley. You and Kate quickly became friends, bonding over your upbringing and knowledge of the weather. She had opened up to you about her storm-chasing days, all ending with the tragedy that took the lives of three people she loved. Her story only cemented your opinion of storm chasing; it was too risky. But she had suckered you in with your love for the science behind weather, and the next thing you know you were in Oklahoma with Kate and a friend of hers on a one-week mission.

You stuck back with the team in charge of reading the data the chasers collected. Your apprehension wasn’t thwarted by Kate’s reassurance, but you’d always known her to be smart and she knew those storms better than anyone. Your distaste for storm chasers was not because of those there for the science of it all, but rather those who did it for the thrill. 

Tyler Owens was exactly the kind of person you expected to drive into tornados with no regard for the danger. What he was doing, from what you gathered from Javi’s brief explanation, was for entertainment and the excitement of facing down peril, laughing in the face of it. 

You stretched in the nighttime air as Kate closed the truck door behind her and turned to you with the same unsure smile she’d been carrying around since you arrived in Oklahoma. You could tell her feelings were mixed about being back there, but you also saw the spark of enjoyment she was slowly relighting. 

“I’ll go check us in,” Kate said, gesturing to the front office of the motel before she took off. You leaned against the side of Javi’s truck, yawning and taking in the scene of more storm chasers lounging around the motel’s lot, enjoying each other’s company as you all waited for another storm to pop up amidst the outbreak. 

The sound of boots under gravel approached you, belonging to none other than Tyler Owens himself. “How ‘ya holding up, city girl?” he said. 

He introduced himself to you and Kate when you first arrived with Javi, meeting his team and the other groups of chasers who were all gunning after the same storm. She had told him the two of you were in from New York for the week, and he assumed that meant you both were born and raised there. Maybe you had lost your Midwest twang during your stay, but no matter how far you moved away, a piece of you would always remain there. 

“Just fine, thank you,” you replied. His team had set up not far from where you two stood; they all seemed busy working on their equipment, but their work was often cut by howls of laughter. They seemed to be enjoying themselves more than Javi’s team was. They’d all split up into separate rooms for the night, so they’d be ready to leave first thing in the morning. 

He rested his arm against the bed of the truck, making himself comfortable as he too looked out across the lot at the people. “I’ve always wanted to visit New York City,” he said, surprising you. That seemed like the last place someone like him wanted to go. “What’s it like?” 

You shrugged. “A lot different than this.” You looked upwards at the sky, seeing stars blinking back at you. The skies were never that dark in New York City, but the towering buildings made for a cool scene too. “I haven’t lived there too long, though. I’m still figuring it out.” You were still trying to gauge if you liked it more than home. You liked the hustle and bustle most of the time, but being back under starry skies and open plains, you had to admit you missed it a little. 

“Really?” he furrowed his brows. “Where’d you move from?” 

“Kansas.” 

He smiled in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned. City girl’s not actually a city girl after all.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” 

“I’m seein’ that.” Tyler was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Do you miss it?” 

You weren’t sure why he asked or why he seemed to care, but you answered regardless. “Sometimes. Not so much the storms though.” 

He laughed. “Yet, you’re out here storm chasing anyway?” 

“I’m just here to help my friend; their business is to help people. That kind of storm chasing I can get behind, I guess. Yours on the other hand…” You trailed off, and he scoffed in mock offense. 

“My kind of business is to face my fears.” 

It was your turn to scoff. “By putting yourself and your friends in danger for…what, exactly? Your internet audience? I know plenty of people like you from back home. You’re reckless and irresponsible.” You saw Kate waving you down by the stairs of the motel, flashing a set of room keys in the air. You said nothing more to Tyler, didn’t even give him a chance to defend himself, before you walked off and into your room for the night

You’d seen devastation before following a tornado, but it was still a harrowing sight. Homes flattened, family belongings flung miles away, and people left hurt in the ruins of their town. You, Kate, and all of Javi’s team arrived just as the storm subsided and the damage was fresh as wounds many of the townspeople bared. You wasted no time going around to help people; Kate did the same. 

An old woman sat in her front yard, carefully cradling windchimes in her arms. “Are you all right?” you asked, kneeling down in the wet grass in front of her. She looked up slightly startled but smiled kindly as she shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m just fine, dear, thank you.” 

“Here you go, Ms. Riley,” a familiar voice sounded from behind you. You turned your head just as Tyler appeared, holding a small box in one hand and a little kitten in the other. The woman, Ms. Riley, gasped and sat her windchimes back on the grass. She took the kitten, teary-eyed, as it purred. “There’s food there too. Make sure you eat, and if you need more my team’s got a table set up just down the road, all right?” 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Tyler said nothing to you as he began to walk away, but you followed him, not catching up with him until he was at a little table surrounded by his team. They had a stack of brown boxes they were handing out, filled with sandwiches one of the members was making quickly. They also handed out bottles of water to the line of people who had just been affected by the storm. 

One of his team members smiled at you, holding out a box of food. “You hungry?” they asked, but you shook your head. 

“No. These people need it, but thanks.” 

You weren’t sure for a moment that Tyler was going to say a word to you. You hadn’t left your last conversation on the nicest note, only to find him and his team working hard to help the ravaged neighborhood. 

But he turned toward you for a moment, looking a little conflicted. “At least take a water,” he said before looking at another member of his team. “Lily, can you take some boxes up the road? There’re  some people who can make it all the way down here.” She nodded, filling her arms with the boxes before she took off.

You were quiet for a moment, staring at Tyler as he and his team came up with a plan to help and feed as many people as they could before night fell. You felt a complicated set of feelings topple over you. And as Tyler started to walk away, you surged forward and grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around. 

“What can I do to help?” 

Together, you and Tyler spent the rest of the afternoon helping members of the neighborhood find their lost belongings and connected anyone with injuries to the EMTs working overtime. It wasn’t until the sun started to set that you took a break, finding a blown-away lawn chair that was still usable to sit on. All day you had eaten your judgment and first impression of Tyler and his team. Maybe they all were reckless and a little irresponsible in their storm-chasing, but they were doing just as Kate was, helping people, just differently. He and his team apparently did that often and were some of the first responders to the damage the tornados they chased caused. You had overheard Lily tell Kate they used the money from their t-shirt sales to buy food for victims of the storm. 

“Hey,” Tyler greeted, approaching you with two boxes of food. “Here.” He handed onto to you before he found a seat and pulled it up beside you. 

You thanked him before the two of you ate in silence for a little while. Some of the debris had been picked up, but the wrecked houses haunted the street. You’d been lucky enough to never lose your home turning a storm, but you knew too many people who had. It was terrible. That was why you had gotten a metrology degree. You had witnessed the devastation storms brought and even though you were trapped behind a computer most days, your goal was to help improve warning systems for all kinds of disasters and ensure that people knew the best way to prepare for them, but it wasn’t foolproof. Sometimes all there was to do was help pick up the pieces in the wake. 

“I think I misjudged you,” you said, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?” He smiled slightly, his face warmly illuminated by the ironically beautiful sunset. “Are you taking back the reckless and irresponsible comment?” 

“No.” You smiled too. “But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. You guys did a good thing here, helping these people.” 

Maybe there was more to him than you had originally believed. 

“It’s all a part of the job,” he said, a bit too casually for all of the work they actually did to help; one could say he was humble about it, which confused you even more. From the second he climbed out of his truck the first time you saw him, you were so sure you knew exactly the kind of guy he was. 

“You aren’t exactly how I expected you to do,” you said, honestly. 

He seemed to take that in stride, smirking at you bright enough to bring heat to your face. “Well, if you stick around, you might even get to like me.” 

You laughed. “Don’t push your luck, cowboy.” But you had a feeling he right be right. The week wasn’t over yet; you still had time to figure out exactly who Tyler Owens was. 

[luminiamore]

SHH.

older brother choso x babysitter reader

a/n: this was for someone who requested a reader with waist beads. had such writers block with this omg

warnings: sub choso, he says mommy like once

masterlist

Homeless. The word never came to mind when you juggled around the possibilities of moving out of your parents’ home. You worked a decent job; it wasn’t much, but it was enough to pay the rent and small utilities. You never thought about what you would do if you happened to not have a job anymore. It never seemed plausible.

But unless this was some elaborate prank from your forbearing boss, you’re staring at a termination letter in the darkness of your room. You’re fired. There’s the proof right there, written in a fine, bold red print. They needed to cut budgets- they had to let a few people go. There’s also the fake sympathies of ‘We’re sorry to let you go’ and ‘You were a great employee’— all bullshit, really. A poor attempt at making you feel better.

You should’ve prepared for this, should’ve saved for more than a month’s rent. But you didn’t, and unless you find something in the next two weeks, you will run out of food. You had little experience, you had only been working at that café shop for three months. You try to find the same position at a different place, a little bit further from your place.

“Why do you want to work here?” A sharp feminine voice blinks you of your thoughts. Your eyes swiftly turn to the lady recruiter, but you frown when you realize hers were shifted downwards�� on her notepad.

Because ya’ll are hiring?

You decide to take the honest route. You need to pay rent; you don’t have the capacity to come up with a lie. Maybe she’ll take pity on you.

“.. I- Uh. I just got fired from my previous job and only saved one month’s rent- I like the peacefulness of working at a local café since that was what I used to do. Your company also promotes natural and healing ingredients; that’s admirable.” You choose your words carefully.

You hear a hum, “Do you like these things?”

“I do. I like taking care of myself in and out, even energetically. It’s why I have these waist beads. They’re stones each have different healing properties.” Should you have rambled like that?

Your waist is a target of her attention, and as you mentioned, a collection of colorful, small, spherical stones adorn your waist. At least seven of them sat snugly under your slender stomach.

You piqued her interest because the next twenty minutes of your interview were a deep conversation about the different meanings held by the stones you wore. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, but her tone made it seem like she was impressed.

She dismisses you with a, ‘Expect a call in two weeks.’ and a smile. The only one she’s given you since you got here.

The wind in New York was quite strong, so when your shoes clattered on the cement beneath you, you were surprised when a paper hit you right in the face. Your lipgloss held the paper in place. You pull yourself to the side after moving the paper, and you see something just as you’re about to crumble it up.

babysitter wanted asap, will pay $50 an hour!

And just under that, his Instagram and a small description.

my name is choso, and i need some help looking after my little brother. he’s 5 years old, very cheerful, and generally well-behaved. i’m only 20, and if i continue taking care of him alone, i’ll probably fail my classes. it’s just the two of us, so if you’re interested my ig is @c.kamo

In all honesty, you were already hooked when you read $50 per hour. Is he rich or something? When you type in his Instagram, you’re taken aback.

The man you see now is dangerously attractive, making you wonder if this is a prank. You click on his story and- how lucky are you? The piercings on his eyebrow, nose, and lip were a striking contrast to his pale white face. His jaw is exceptionally sharp, his lips are pink and full, and his hair is styled into two adorable pigtails.

When you press your finger to show the following picture, you audibly gasp. His abs were pushing through a tight black compression shirt. His arms are veiny, firm- big. Your Uber almost left without you because of how struck you were.

You fold the paper stu, put it in your purse, and follow him, deciding to text him when you’re home. You just hope he’s still looking for a babysitter, you don’t know how long this paper has been rolling around the streets.

As usual, the doorman greeted you happily when you arrived after a short ride to your apartment. The constant buzzing on your phone since you got here has reminded you of the potential job offer that came to your attention a few moments ago.

You’re pushing your pants down when you go to his profile again, and you stop abruptly when you realize the man who followed nobody followed you back, and he sent you a message. A smile slowly creeps onto your lips, making you feel giddy.

That was easy, you think. If you had known how easy it was to earn money elsewhere, you would have quit ages ago. It makes you overthink, worrying that this was another one of those sex trafficking schemes you haven’t heard of yet.

Choso sends you his number afterwards and instructions for tomorrow. You feel at ease knowing that the address he sends you is in one of the skyscrapers in Long Island City. He even sent you the apartment number and told you to use his full name so the doorman could ring you up.

That morning, he informed you of a few things about Yuji. He may be reserved because his previous babysitters didn’t appreciate his energetic personality. Though, Choso assures you that once he feels comfortable, it won’t be long until he opens up. You’re a bit sad to hear that those who looked after him before weren’t very kind and that Yuji would often complain that he would have to play alone.

You figured they only mentioned babysitting to get Choso. When you told him this, his only response was,

‘get with me? i don’t see why, is there something in particular they want?’

Yeah, what’s in your pants. Is what you wanted to say.

Yuji leaves you feeling surprised when you meet him. This boy wasn’t anything like a reserved one. You don’t believe he could manifest such a thing. When he came to greet you, he jumped on you, and you had to quickly pull your hands from your pockets and catch him so he wouldn’t fall. You’re chuckling, and your voice is comforting the little boy when you speak,

“Oh! Hi, sweetheart. Nice to meet you, Yuji.”

His smile is blinding when he looks up at you, “You’re pretty! What are those beads for? Are you my new babysitter? Will you play with me?”

Choso observes your interactions with his brother and how you answer his questions as if it’s second nature. The beads that his brother mentioned caught his attention the moment you stepped through his door. He’s ashamed. He feels utterly ashamed to admit that he’s been gazing at them.

Out of curiosity at first, but then he noticed the way they moved whenever you did.

Choso was not the type to indulge in lustful thoughts. He didn’t have trouble keeping his eyes away from the previous babysitters who arrived at his house in the shortest skirts ever made.

So, why is it so hard to look away from you? From your waist?

There’s nothing revealing about what you’re wearing. Your outfit consists of a flowing white skirt that touches the ground, and he noticed that a black tank top keeps bouncing up no matter how many times you try to pull it down. Despite this, he is still unable to look away. You look soft, the beads are loosely adorning your hips, and suddenly, he can’t help but think of how his hands would look there.

Choso blinks. Where did that come from?

He shakes his head, attempting to shake himself away from these fantasies. He has to leave. He will miss his class if he doesn’t leave his seat on the kitchen counter.

He clears his throat, “He seems to like you already. I have to leave now.. for class. I’ll be home in 3 hours, and there is money on the counter if either of you gets hungry.”

When he speaks, you notice the uncomfortable look on his face. Does he not want to go? Is he worried? Although you hope not, you are questioning yourself when he walks towards you on the floor and gives his brother a kiss, but then passes you without even giving you a glance.

Well... That was uncalled for. Yuji takes hold of your hand and leads you to his LEGO collection, preventing you from pondering it.

Choso doesn’t come home in three hours like he said. Rather, two hours later. He did let you know, though. He really wasn’t the type to do this, so it wouldn’t be fair to you if he didn’t. He tried his best to delay as much as possible because he wasn’t ready to see you yet. He was afraid of those thoughts from earlier and wasn’t prepared to come face-to-face with them again.

Alas, he had to. He closes the door to his apartment with a smooth click and is greeted with the sound of TV. He doesn’t hear much, but what he thinks is.. light snoring?

He makes a slow walk to the living room, and there you both are. You’re lying on your back, your mouth slightly open in a light snore, and your left arm is dangling off the corner of the cushion. Yuji is on top of you, also on his back, and is practically in the same position as you.

Choso’s instincts drive him to walk towards you both, and what he does next is entirely natural. He lightly ruffles Yuji’s hair to avoid waking him and kisses his forehead. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even with the few hairs on your laid black lace that covers your right eye when he looks up at you.

He brushes it to the side, immediately flinching back when you move your head in your sleep. What the fuck is he doing?

He rushes to get a glass of water, taking care not to make any abrupt sounds. He wants to let you sleep a little, he reasons with himself that he’s just being a good person. In reality, he doesn’t want you to leave yet. He refuses to believe he does not want to wake you because of his selfish motives.

“Choso?”

He jumps, almost dropping the glass in his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Yuji-” When he fully faces you, he stops short. The pictures on your Instagram had nothing on you, honestly. Both your skirt and tank top are now lower than when you came here, and he can clearly see your voluptuous tits. The cute pudge of your stomach wrapped by those fucking waist beads is also visible to him.

You’re still half asleep when you notice he’s not talking, so you don’t care much to interrogate him. Your tone of voice is one of concern when you say, “I put Yuji in his room, don’t worry. You okay?”

No. Far from it, actually. That is what he desperately wants to say. But how could he explain what it is that’s really wrong with him? He’s having unnatural thoughts about you, including your body and face. You might think that he’s a creep. Yuji seems to have a good relationship with you. What is the probability that he will find someone like you again?

He doesn’t want to risk it; he doesn’t want to take that chance. So, he answers you, “I’m great. Nothing is wrong at all. Did you, uh, have fun with Yuji?”

“Oh, yeah! He was great, he always had something new for us to…”

Whatever you’re talking about gets tuned out by Choso. He hates himself for it. He’s sure what you’re saying is important, he doesn’t doubt it for a second. But did you ever notice that your lips twitch whenever you speak? That you start playing with the ends of your hair when you suddenly become hyper-aware that his eye contact is unwaveringly on you.

He’s not looking directly into your eyes but rather at your entire body. His eyes would shift from your lips, then to your chest, but they would always find their way back to your hips. You had a hunch that he wasn’t really listening to what you were saying. And you catch on quickly, so you decide to tease him.

“I think if I keep stretching, I’ll be able to do the splits in a week. Don’t you think so, Cho?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Cho? You already gave him a nickname?

Even though you stifle a giggle, it eventually becomes a full-blown laugh. The mere sound brings Choso to a smile before he covers his face sheepishly.

“I didn’t mean to zone you out, I just had a long day.”

“I can see that.” You finish your fit of giggles and move over to his fridge and check to see if you have any leftovers from earlier, “You should eat. There’s some leftover Chinese in the fridge, I can heat it up for you?”

He hurriedly takes his bag off and drops it on the ground before sitting on the countertop. “I’d have to pay you more for your services.”

“You don’t have to pay me, I can’t in my good conscience leave you alone like that. You can barely stand up.” As you microwave some leftover fried rice, you can hear him hum. All the while, his eyes never leave your frame- waist.

“This is actually the first time I didn’t have to rush home early.” He murmurs, his hand holding his face up while he admires you.

As you wait for the timer to end, you turn your attention towards him, “Really? Is that why you took your sweet time coming home?”

He likes how you say ‘coming home’, as if he’s coming home to you. As though you were living together. When he detects the annoyance in your tone, he frowns, “I apologized.”

You notice his pout as you hand him the hot plastic food container. “It won’t happen again if that’s what you’re worried about. Please don’t quit, I really-”

“Woah, I’m not quitting.”

You cut him off, and he can reply with nothing but an “Oh.”

When you gather your purse and keys, Choso watches- You’re leaving already?

“Yeah, you pay really well, anddd I like Yuji.” You were sincere. A salary like this shouldn’t be wasted because of a delayed arrival. At least he informed you that he would be late; that’s better than nothing. And it’s true, you really liked Yuji. It was natural for you to get along with him as if he was already a family member.

It’s endearing how Choso abandons his food to follow after you as you walk towards his door. “It was fun babysitting, Cho! Text me when you need me-”

“Tomorrow? Could you come again tomorrow at the same time?”

You’re momentarily speechless, but remember he’s waiting for a response, “Tomorrow?”

“I might need you for the rest of the week actually, I have a few finals coming up.” Choso is smart. He doesn’t really need to study for these finals, but he figures he can use that as an excuse to have you here, with him.

You stutter out, “Well- Well, I still have to go job hunting..”

“I can triple your pay. Quadruple it if you want.” He said without delay as if he hadn’t offered to pay you more than $500 daily just to spend some time with his brother.

“Is money just not that big of an issue for you?” You laugh, perplexed as to why this man is just throwing money at you like you’re a common whore.

Not when it comes to you, no. “No. Will you come back for the week?” His answer is blunt, honest, stoic even, like he doesn’t catch on to why you’re in such disbelief.

“I- I guess.” At that moment, he offers you a lazy smile and wishes you goodnight. He complemented his words with a sweet ‘You looked very pretty today, by the way.’ Allowing you to drive away in the Uber flustered and thinking about the entire interaction on your way home.

The next four days were the same: Choso left for class, you spent an afternoon with Yuji, and a small conversation and meal between you and Choso happened right before you left for that night in the kitchen. You assumed it would be the same when he asked you to take care of Yuji while he was studying at home.

As you neared the end of the week, those conversations grew longer…and more secluded. Choso is usually found in his room with his face stuffed in a big textbook and his notes. When you sat on his bed, he would move them to the side and give you his full attention.

“So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?” You repeat his statement back at him with a look of apprehension. How is that even possible? He’s hot, rich, and really smart, too. How come he’s not taken?

When he answers you, he doesn’t seem embarrassed, “No. I haven’t met anyone.. interesting, yet.”

You stare at the ceiling as you take in his words, “Are you saving yourself for marriage?”

“I’ve had sex once. It wasn’t memorable enough for me to do it again.” Choso’s face becomes warm when he responds to you. Is it even right for him to share these things with you? He is curious about your thoughts when you don’t speak for an entire minute. His body is shaking in anxiety while he is in his gaming chair.

You huff, sprawled out on his bed, “I don’t think anyone’s first time is the best.”

He raises a brow, making a sound that urges you to finish, “You need experience to figure out what you like and don’t like.”

“Do-Do you have experience?”

You smile and finally turn to look at the pale man, “Why, yes, I do.”

“…Could you teach me some things?”

Silence. Choso doesn’t know why he said that. He’s not sure why you guys are even talking about this. Maybe it was too soon? Maybe you didn’t see him that way? What if you decide to leave?

“M-Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to-”

“Sure, I’ll teach you.” Lifting yourself off his bed, you stop in front of the space between his legs. The physical struggle he’s facing to not grab you can be seen as he repositions his eyes on your waist again.

Leaning close to his lap, you place your hands on his shoulders, “If that’s what you really want.”

Your movements are slow, particularly when you put your ass right on his bulge, which has been there since you entered his room. Choso is at a loss with his hands, so you help by positioning them on both sides of your hips. He instantly squeezes and you can’t help but notice that small mewl coming from his lips.

“Is that what you want, Cho?”

His nod is swift and desperate even as his mind starts to get hazy. You smell really good, and the feeling of you on his lap is quickly becoming something he wants more of. His head is already in the crook of your neck, and his soft lips touch you before he tentatively sucks.

You gently pull his head back by his hair, and the sound that comes from his lips is raw and deafening. “Don’t go mute now. Use your words.”

“Yes.. please.” He’s panting, his eyes hooded and low as he gazes into yours. His words prompt you to gently press your lips against his, proving his resolve. He didn’t have much, or any at all, because he snatched your lips harshly. You’re gasping because of the sensation of his hands gripping your waist and pulling at your waist beads. He’s grumbling about how you taste and how you feel so much softer than he could ever imagine.

Choso’s breath becomes choppy when you start grinding against his bulge, and he can even detect your swollen lips through your shorts. His hands begin to creep up your body, and his fingers immediately pull down the top of your tank, exposing your tits. You weren’t even wearing a bra.

You swallow loudly when he releases your lips and lowers his head to wrap them around your dark areola, squeezing the other hand to ensure it’s not neglected. Choso gets lost in your taste and hypnotized by how you twitch and buck whenever he bites gently. He withdraws with a pop and swiftly leans down to fill his mouth with the one his hand was holding.

You gasp out, “Since this is a lesson, I should teach you how to-”

“Eat you out?” Although his words are muffled, you can still hear them clearly. You make an effort to chuckle, but he bites your nipples again, making you release a small moan. There’s no chance to react because he suddenly lifts you up, takes two steps from his chair, and sets you down on his bed.

Choso is prompt and hurries you out of your shorts and panties. The lace pair is flimsy and rips easily due to his strength- his eagerness. His face is flush against your cunt as he forces your legs apart. Even if you tried, you couldn’t move because of his firm clasp.

Your lips are gleaming and dripping on his lips, you are so wet. When he finally drags his tongue between your folds, he can feel your throbbing, “You taste amazing.”

His lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly, causing slight twitching and cross eyes. It’s impossible to think he only did this once. He’s sucking so obscenely and poking at your quivering hole incessantly. Choso is moaning against you like he’s been dying to do this. There’s no way he only did this once. You’re overwhelmed by the way he’s making you feel,

“Right there! Shit- Oh! You’re doing so- so good.”

At the praise, his eyes roll back, and his cock throbs against his boxers. The way he slowly pushes his middle finger into you is riveting, stretching you better than your fingers could ever. Your breath staggers as you let out a sinful moan.

Your hips begin buckling, your beads thrash as you move, and Choso has to put a heavy hand on your stomach to prevent you from running away when he accelerates his ministrations. He’s keeping you steady while curling his finger upwards and punching your G-spot over and over again. He adds another one and twists them, hoping to receive your praise again.

You wail out a beautiful symphony, “Yes- fuck! M’gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

He loves the way you make dirty words sound angelic. He’s the one who’s going to make you cum, he’s the one making you tremble and cry out at the mercy of his tongue and two fingers. The pressure in your stomach is so intense that you feel like you’re on fire, like a dam is about to burst.

“Cum. Please, please. I want it so bad, want you to make a m-mess.”

Your head is turning as he continues to make love with your hole, kissing the hood of your clit with his rough passion. An earth-shattering orgasm rips through you, and your chest rises up and down as your back arches without much help. With your head thrown back, your hands scramble to grab his hair to keep him where he is. He was too determined to savor every last bit of your sweet essence, so he wouldn’t even dare move anyway.

As you stumble out, your body shakes violently, “Ah! You’re such a good boy, Cho.”

Low whimpers vibrate against your core, and you don’t delay in pulling him up your body and kissing him, moaning when you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s becoming needy once more and doesn’t hesitate to start grinding his fat cock against your thigh- his boxers being long gone.

He doesn’t pull away from your lips when he speaks, “Can I put it in now? Please?”

The way he begs is so sweet, and it makes you coo as your soft hand grabs his length to lead it to your sopping cunt. Jesus, he’s big. Abnormally big, how did he hide this?

You’re teasing him by slowly sliding his flushed tip between your lips, never going in. His moans are whiny, and his hips twitch every time he goes over your tight hole. Choso’s balls are churning, he might just cum like this.

“Please- wanna fuck you. Just put it in, p-put it- Fuck.”

His lips swell with a deep moan as you finally push his tip in. You’re so wet, so warm. He has to push the rest of his thick cock inside to feel you clench on him entirely, and he does. He bucks instantly, forcing almost half of him inside your dripping mound, and the stretch he’s giving you is painful but euphoric.

You have to silence Choso with your lips against his lips after he releases another pornographic moan, “Shh, baby. Don’t- Don’t wanna wake your brother up.”

You move your hips, causing him to slip the remaining inches inside you. He’s speedy in pulling back, bringing his tip to your entrance, and then slamming his hips against yours. You’re groaning against his lips, gasping every time you hear a slick noise coming from between your legs.

The sensation of your cunt being so warm and suffocating him back inside with a tight grip is making his mind go into a coma. As Choso gives you deep, sweet strokes, his hold on your waist is harsh, and you anticipate feeling sore tomorrow. He’s not going to last long, you feel too good.

“You’re fucking me so good, Cho! Harder, baby. Just like that, fuck me harder.” He follows your instructions swiftly as if he’s afraid of disappointing you. Your words are motivating him to work harder, to make this experience perfect for you.

He’s whimpering pathetically above you, his thrusts getting harsher and deeper when he fucks into you. “M’gonna cum. You feel so- Shit. Please- Please let me fill you up.”

“Yeah? Wanna fill me up? Beg a little more.” As you whisper in a daze, you’re spent and almost at your peak.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease- Ah shit! Please, mommy!” Choso moans into your neck while his hips bump into yours in uncoordinated movements. Your cunt is a perfect fit against him, he can’t get enough of it.

You were surprised by the impact a single word had on you. You’re wrapping your legs around the man above you, arching your back off the bed as your fat pussy squeezes his cock, releasing your juices all over his body. That’s all Choso needs to dump his seed inside of you, having to bite your shoulder to not release a loud moan that would surely wake Yuji up.

Choso falls onto you, both of your movements still, as your breaths are heavy and your bodies are dripping with sweat. You don’t speak but rather sink into his embrace and the aftertaste. He finally ends the silence,

“I think I know what I like now.”

You make a confused sound, “What’s that?”

“..You. I like you.”

As you prepare to respond, a faint snoring noise interrupts you. He fell asleep. You chuckle and stroke his hair in a comforting motion before kissing the side of his head. Your mind is brimming with unspoken thoughts of,

I like you too.

[wandasaura]

IT WAS NEVER MINE

summary — as your year long contract with natasha come to an end, all the feelings you’ve been trying to ignore come to the surface. you didn’t think they were yours to lose in the first place, but you’d never been so wrong in your life

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, angst, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of panic attack/spiraling thoughts, confession of feelings, soft!wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, bratty behavior, face grabbing, fingering, ruined orgasm, degradation, praise, mommy kink, daddy kink, doggy position, oral, grinding, mutual orgasms, threesome, finger sucking, cum tasting, literal filth? men/minors dni

authors note — russian translations are included at the end of this work. we finally got the confessions of feelings! the trios officially a couple! everybody cheered!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Everything around you had been cemented in false permanence that you weren’t quite ready to give up just yet, or ever. The weather, the sunsets, the arms you fell into at night; a month into the summer holidays and you could no longer deny that your feelings for Wanda and Natasha were merely a result of the situation. You wanted them, in every way they would give themselves to you. You yearned for their laughter, and to join in on the soft kisses that came by the kitchen window every morning like a sacred routine. You wanted their eternal company and the lingering presence of where their gentle touch had lied even when they went away. To put it simply: you crave something that will never come. The terms of your contract were made clear when you signed them, but you were naive to have ever thought you wouldn’t catch feelings. 

With June halfway through and July on the cusp, the bed the couple fell into each night was practically your own now too, and clothes you wore frequently had been given an official place in the master en-suite closet beside Natasha’s. Some mornings, when sleep had been hard to claim and exhaustion carried over into sunrise, you couldn’t distinguish between what was hers and what was yours. When those days came like unexpected storm clouds, the gravity of your predicament clung to your skin like the disappointment of cold rain on a tropical vacation. 

Westview came alive in the summer months, like most shore towns in Jersey did once schools were out. The small town wasn’t one that you had been familiar with prior to signing the contract, rather isolated and forgotten about between the bigger beaches that bordered it, but now you that you knew of it and had seen it in the winter, you couldn’t imagine hard days without that small ice cream shop four blocks from the Maximoff’s, nor do you think you could survive hard semesters without escaping to the deserted edge of solid ground only locals visited when pale snow kissed tan sand. 

When sunshine became too bright to ignore, you were the last in the house to stir awake. The master bedroom was quiet, too quiet, save for the blue jays that chirped just beyond the sun-warm window. You sighed at the muted colors that adorned the walls and furniture within the room, wondering how some places could feel so lived in and empty in the same breath. You had to force yourself out of bed, though you would’ve rather stayed burrowed beneath thick blankets and pillows made of clouds until they fused to your three-day-old marked skin. Your routine may not have been as sweet as the married women who lingered somewhere beneath you, probably cuddled up close on the couch in the living room or laughing together in the kitchen over a memory you weren’t privy to knowing, but it had become something cherished since joining them in bed at night. Your fingers, cold from their lack of use throughout the night, trailed over the hickies that discolored your skin. The touch was softer than silk, fear clouding your impulses as you wondered if today would be the day they disappeared into nothing but another memory. In prior relationships, you’d always hated when your partner left you with physical remnants of the intimate connection you’d sought from them. It had always felt cliche and admittedly demeaning when you’d then have to walk around with splotches of burgundy peeking out from beneath clothes, but there was something different about the way you allowed Wanda and Natasha to claim you. Perhaps it was the sick pride you harbored just by knowing that your body was solely theirs to mark, or maybe it was your own twisted need to convince your mind that they cared for you the same way you did them like your heart so desperately wanted to believe. Either way, the love bites strewn across your neck lived to see another day if the intense sensitivity was any indication of their presence, and with the confirmation that everything you’ve devoted yourself to hadn't completely fallen away yet, the dread you faced like an endless mirror melted away to be stared at later on. 

With no energy to actually get dressed, because even a full night's sleep had felt like simple minutes recently, you didn’t even bother walking into the closet where your favorite outfits remained hung up on expensive metal hangers. You’d only stare at them blankly, no pull to anything in particular, until you walked away still clad in paint splattered shorts and a t-shirt you’d owned since high school. Every morning Wanda would say that the pajamas you wore weren’t allowed to exist outside of the house, and every day Natasha would drag you out for a walk while still wearing them. It was like they couldn’t agree on how to help you, but both women had noticed your shift in attitude even if they didn’t know the cause. You weren’t their lively girl anymore. You didn’t jump at the chance to skip down the pier holding tightly onto Natasha’s hand, you didn’t fling yourself off the countertops just because you knew it worried Wanda, and you didn’t bounce between offices seeking attention from whoever gave it first. As each day passed and another one came to the surface, you only got farther from the woman that they had loved. The woman you believed was unlovable. 

They tried to stand firm on the rules and expectations, having seen what happens when they try to soften their edges for you, but even doubling down on their control had been in vain. Your ass had been over both of their laps countless times in recent days, but all that seemed to do was fuel your desire to push back and retreat inward. Wanda had tried various other methods of punishment to break through whatever wall you were trying to keep up, hoping that getting you to relinquish control would settle whatever storm you had brewing beneath those dazzling eyes. Edging you had failed. You had blatantly refused to let her see how desperate you were, taking each edge with impressive neutrality until eventually she’d given you a full orgasm out of her own guilt and need to comfort. She had made you sit at the dining room table and write lines when you’d dared to try and talk back to her one night, but when she had come back to check on you the sheet of loose-leaf paper was blank and the pen hadn’t even been picked up. That was the first time you’d received the silent treatment from Wanda. She’d merely collected the paper and pen with a hum of dissatisfaction before she moved on with her evening as normal. There was no question about if you were still cared for, she tucked you in and kissed your head, but it wasn’t until the next morning rolled around when you’d heard her voice being directed toward you again. She could see that the punishment had affected you. It wasn’t typically one she resorted to, knowing how it could impact a submissive's emotions, but everything else had been falling flat on its face and she just wanted her girl back. She’d tried to amend the situation at the first chance she got, tried to comfort you in the way she knew you’d needed done, but you were more or less unresponsive to her attempts. 

As the nights of summer carried the end of your contract nearer, your sadness only grew and presented in agitating ways that were winding both of the redheads up – there was only so much more of your attitude that they could take before they snapped and you wouldn’t blame them when it came. The contract was practically the only thing on your mind anymore, namely the part of the document that disclosed the length of your agreement; twelve months. You were on month ten, and although a large part of you desperately wanted to enjoy these last few weeks entirely, the smaller, more stubborn part of you, felt like you had to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak that was to come. Change was unavoidable, you kept reminding yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for how truly fast it was happening. Natasha had promised you a glorious summer break. She’d promised s’mores and beach days and near permanent attachment. It wasn’t her that broke those promises, it was you. Even the thought of spending individual time with the Russian made panic flare within you, and though it wasn’t fair to her, you continued to cancel plans regardless. Today was another day of plans that wouldn’t happen, and there wasn’t even the slightest ounce of remorse in your belly as you descended toward the kitchen. You had been wrong for getting attached in the first place, you wouldn't add fuel to the fire so close to the once unimaginable end. 

 The lawyer owned a Harley-Davidson LiveWire. It sat covered by a thick black tarp in the two car garage that at some point during their relationship, had been converted into an at home gym. The very first time you had gotten a peak at the bike, you knew that you wanted to join her for a ride, but you found out weeks later that riding wasn’t something Natasha did often or at all, not anymore. Wanda had been the one to tell you why during one of the first conversations you’d had. She told you how Natasha had been in a bad crash, how the bike in the garage was a replacement for the one she’d used to have, how even the sight of it sent her spiraling and thus was why it remained permanently covered. But, after hearing about your interest, Natasha had spent months working through her anxiety just to give you a taste of the biking life she’d adored for so many years. She’d told you three weeks ago that she was almost ready to get back on, that she would let you know when she could trust herself not to panic. Months of working through trauma that could’ve easily stayed untouched just to see you smile, and now you didn’t even want to go. You were probably the shittiest person ever. They had every right to hate you come August, but you convinced yourself that that would make everything easier. If they still cared for you, you’d think about crawling back to them every second of the day. 

As expected, Wanda and Natasha were sitting together on the couch when you reached the end of the stairs. The windows in the living room were open and welcomed the fresh breeze inside, but despite the warmth that lingered with the wind, you shivered. Wanda’s head craned toward the stairs first, and then Natasha’s. It always took the Russian longer to notice you, and you wondered if Wanda really did just have a sixth sense because she never took more than a second to spot you, even if you tried to be as soundless as possible. They offered you sweet greetings and easy smiles, but they went unreturned. Three weeks ago, you would’ve melted into their laps and grinned eagerly, but now you merely rolled your eyes and shuffled into the kitchen where leftover ice cream from Billy’s remained in the freezer. 

Wanda had brought it home a few nights ago, her form of an apology for being kept at the office so late. It wasn’t yet fall, just barely summer really, but already their workload was starting to increase. You could see it in their eyes that carried permanent exhaustion, and though Natasha had thus far kept her promise of not being away, she worked in her office a significant amount more. Maybe your attitude is what pushed her to spend time with mind-melting files and cases, or maybe she was just accepting the end of the contract better than you. 

Your ice cream was decorated with sprinkles softer than sunsets. Their pastel shades were unlike the sprinkles sold at chain ice cream restaurants near your University and hometown, and you adored the simple detail that set Billy’s apart from everyone else. The first time Natasha had shown you to the parlor, you had claimed so boldly that despite being made of the same ingredients, the sprinkles tasted sweeter then the other ones you’ve tried. Another thing that had changed in your dynamic were the rules. Wanda was strict, hovering and well-alike to a helicopter parent, and when she’d realized that you only ate meals when they were prepared by either her or Natasha, she’d wasted no time in implementing another rule into your dynamic; you needed to eat at least one real meal a day. It wasn’t hard in the summer months. You were with them every day and you ate what they ate when they ate, but your late wake-up time had given you the perfect opportunity to make your lingering bad mood known in yet another way. You pulled the freezer open without any hesitation, heading straight for the half-eaten ice cream with your name on it. You’d scribbled your newest nickname, utenok, on the cover when you feared Natasha would eat it on you. The silliness and untainted delight that you had felt in that moment was practically unimaginable now. You tried to grasp at how light you had felt as you sat around the dining table joking with Wanda who had a smudge of peanut butter sauce on the tip of her nose, but you had come up empty handed quickly. 

Shaking your head, not wanting to spiral down another path of inconsolable tears, you directed your attention to finding a spoon. The many cabinets in the kitchen had once confused you, as they would anyone who was randomly dropped in a lavish kitchen with too many drawers to count, but now they were engraved in your memory and you hadn’t even stopped to question if you opened the right one, knowing confidently that you hadn’t messed up in months. The silverware was in the drawer closest to the sink, and you found a spoon easily. You hated how before you could even dig into your ice cream, that your mind felt the need to remind you about how in eight weeks, you’d have no right to this kitchen and the silverware inside of it. The first bite on your tongue felt wrong, and your stomach churned in thick guilt, but you ignored how badly you wanted to beg Wanda for forgiveness and went in for another mouthful. The sprinkles didn’t taste as sweet, but you knew that Wanda could see you from the living room so you kept up with the action. 

Her voice made you feel sick to your stomach when it finally attempted to reach your ears. “What are the rules, milaya?” She asked you with sternness, her eyes set into a thin glare that could end wars if the military let her loose on the battlefield. Nobody would go against her, they’d stand no chance, but you did. You had learned how to ignore the rush of guilt and shame that set in when she looked at you that way, and were becoming quite good at it if you had any say in the matter. No, that was a lie, the biggest lie that you had ever told yourself, but you had to try. You felt like the absolute worst person in the world when you went against Wanda, but in eight weeks there would be no Wanda to go against, so you tried to remain unbothered despite how bothered you actually were. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Your clipped tone had made her flinch, had made her reel back into Natasha and pull her eyes away from you. Your heart dropped to your feet, your eyes stung with unshed tears that had come at least once every day since you realized how near the end was, but you didn’t apologize. You didn’t backtrack and attempt to amend what you were breaking. Instead, you scooped up another bite of ice cream that was significantly bigger than the last, and shoved it all into your mouth at once. The creamy flavor melted onto your tongue and tried to clear your mind, but the guilt made it difficult to win. You needed this. You needed them to hate you so that you could hate them, but it felt like a knife stabbing into your least important organs over and over. You could live without a spleen, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt for a while. You knew that you could live without them and their praise and reassurances, but that wouldn’t mean that even if they hated you it wouldn’t hurt. There was no good way out, but you were being forced closer and closer to the day with every minute that passed. 

“Put the ice cream away and get something else to eat, detka. You agreed to these rules.” Wanda came back at you harder, sterner, colder, and when you met her eyes from across two rooms, there was a fire beneath them that had made her near unrecognizable. Her publics were blown and darker than midnight as it hung over Westview, her lips were set into a firm line that would give her wrinkles by the time she was forty. She was miles away from the sweet woman you had seen glimpses of since dropping your what was your initial attitude, but even the woman you’d hated hadn’t been so harsh. Your nose crinkled, and for the softest second she believed that she had won, but when did you ever give in so easily, though nothing about this was easy. 

Raising your chin, the handle of the silver spoon felt heavy between your fingers that held it up to your lips where the taste of your treat lingered. She wasn’t going to make you back down when in eight weeks you’d be back on campus and without her. As horrible as it was to admit, you didn’t know who you were without them anymore. Natasha laid out outfits for you that paired sweetly with hers. Wanda made breakfast and dinner, and always asked you to help with lunch. They helped you sleep through storms and nightmares. They had satisfied you and completed you for ten months, and in turn you were just expected to know how to keep going without their rules. You’d drown before you even had the chance to swim. “Make me.” 

Daylight drenched the house in warmth, but the room felt cold when Wanda shot to her feet and started to approach with footsteps that were silent and deadly. You had half the mind to run in the opposite direction, to avoid whatever she was coming over to do, but you stayed firmly planted to the floor of the kitchen and dared to even take another mouthful of ice cream between your lips. For days you had been dismissive and hostile toward them, quieted by silence and fear, but those initial feelings were quickly folding into anger that begged to be released. 

You stiffened when her ringed hand caught your jaw, her fingertips squeezing your cheeks together not unkindly, but not softly either. You had amended your limits just as you had amended the rules now that Wanda was an active participant in your dynamic, but none of your new allowances had been used on you yet, there hadn’t been a reason. You had just given her a reason though, and your eyes, despite your willingness for them to remain slitted and annoyed, widened in shock immediately. You’d been adamant against Natasha grabbing you like this, a fear response from childhood that at the start of your relationship hadn’t yet been processed, but as your trust in their control had grown over time, so had your curiosity for harsher elements of kink and submission. Your core throbbed at the sensation of her fingers digging into your skin, and you wanted to kick yourself for folding so easily. You’d never accomplish anything if your body craved their touch, but getting them to hate you was just as hard as getting you to hate them. 

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to like that. Mommy expects little girls to do as they're told the first time they’re asked, but it seems you’ve forgotten who you're with. One last chance, go put away the ice cream and find something else to eat. You will not take your attitude out on me when I have given you every opportunity to tell me what’s wrong.” If you thought she wouldn’t grab you any harsher, you were wrong. The grip she had on your face was painful now, and you could feel every grove in the metal around her fingers as they pressed into your cheeks and jaw. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to listen to her, to just find something else to eat or ask her to make you something instead, but your anger had grown fond of disobedience, and you shook your head before you could process what would happen next. “Very well.” The hand on your face had fallen away just as quickly as it had come, leaving you with an ache on your face and soon an emptiness in your hands when she plucked the cup from between your grip and walked it over to the garbage can beneath the skin. You wanted to sob when you watched her throw it away, the bright colored cup a flash of pigment before it was completely out of sight and at the bottom of the bag. 

“What the fuck?” You complained, throwing the spoon down on the island countertop. The metal clanked against the marble when it made contact, but you didn’t care about how you might have scratched the surface they kept so perfect and tidy. There were too many bigger feelings coursing through your nerves to recognize how Wanda’s eyes snapped to the island before they fell upon yours again. She was getting sick and tired of your attitude. The sadness she’d felt when she first realized something was wrong hadn’t quickly become anger, but she was reaching that point now. You were forcing her over the edge with every minor act of brattiness you could even think to initiate. 

You were pinned between her body and the edge of the counter so quickly you hadn’t even realized that she had backed you in, but in a moment of forgetfulness, drunk of the state of her radiating dominance, your hands gripped onto the hem of her shirt and your eyes burned with desperation for her touch. You scolded yourself when you realized, but Wanda had already seen it and smirked knowingly down at you. You hadn’t responded to edging, but maybe you’d respond when someone properly ruined your orgasm for the first time. You never did take too kindly to their teasing, and it seemed that even in whatever funk had taken hold of you, your body was calling out for her attention. Who could blame you though, the three-day-old hickies on your neck were an indication of the last time you’d been touched, and you shared a bed with the hottest women in the world. 

Wanda’s hands were ruthless as they didn’t waste time with teasing. You’d been teased enough, there was no need for her to drag out your punishment. As cruel as she intended to be with you, she didn’t think you could handle being nothing but putty in her hands. Her and Natasha weren’t quiet when they ripped orgasms from each other in the shower at night as you laid in their bed waiting for their return, and they certainly weren’t quiet when they snuck into one of their offices upstairs in the middle of the day. Just because you hadn’t been touched, didn’t mean they hadn’t been, and the sounds of their pleasure had been torturous each and every time. They’d been waiting for you to come to them, waiting for the breaking point where you begged for their attention and any toy you were desperate enough to name at the moment. Asking for what you wanted was still hard, but they were patient enough to let you figure it out, and they had hoped that not immediately offering attention like they had a habit of doing would pull you out of your head. Clearly it hadn’t. Clearly, they’d failed to help you in yet another way. 

Wanda was in no mood to be patient anymore, and when her hands dipped beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, that fact became very apparent to you. You gasped at the sensation of her cold fingers seeking out your clit with intent and eagerness. Your eyes snapped up to hers, a million silent questions buried beneath the haze of desperation her aggressiveness had provoked. You grinded down against her fingers, not being stopped. So much control was being placed in your hands, or at least that’s what you were being led to believe as she eased two fingers into your pulsating entrance and allowed you the freedom of grinding down on them however you wanted. You wanted to push her away, wanted to keep up your act and attitude, but that had all melted away from you the second her fingers curled into your soft spot. 

“Nobody’s touched this sweet pussy in three days.” Wanda hummed, her voice laced and dripping in false sympathy as she scissored you open and made you ache for more. There was no question to be answered in her observations, and it confused you. She almost always followed up with a question because she liked to see you squirm in pleasure unable to answer her. She liked to belittle you and force you to see just how pliable you were to her every direction. Everything that you had grown to accept and adore had been ripped away. Her lips hovered above yours, but they didn’t lean down to kiss you. Everything about this moment felt so impersonal and detached, and it made you cry out in frustration. She was only doing what you had done to her, she knew that, but you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around it at this moment. When you’d eventually realize, she hoped it was enough to set you straight, because she desperately wanted to close the gap between your bodies and love you the right way. She kept her face mere inches from yours, her eyes open and hard and dilated. She was looking at you so cruelly, it made your insides feel like they were on trial. When a desperate moan fell from your lips, Wanda doubled her pace, ruthlessly rubbing circles on your clit that had become stiff beneath her thumb. “Gonna cum for Mommy, little slut?” 

“Y-Yes!” You only just barely managed to cry out, and you expected her to slow her pace and reprimand you for not asking her correctly, it had been three days since you’d called her Mommy and though you were aching for her to be just that to you, there was still bite left in your bones and Wanda merely hummed as she registered that fact. You would not like what was to come. She knew you would hate it. You liked full satisfying orgasms, and she couldn’t blame you for that, but the feeling you were about to become familiar with was the exact opposite. Only she was privy to that information though. 

“Then go ahead.” She shrugged haphazardly, a third finger daring to stretch you open and fill you up. Your walls accepted the burn, leaned into the pleasure, craved her touch and thanked every star in the universe for sending her down to you. With her permission to let go, you didn’t fight the coil from snapping within your belly. Your eyes fell closed at the sharp sensation of approaching, promised pleasure, but just as quickly as she’d let you think you were about to taste it, her fingers pulled away and left your hot cunt to pulsate and throb with no help or satisfaction. Your eyes shot open in shock, your hips writhing and bucking against the countertop as tears glistened in your eyes. You could feel it wash over you, just beneath the surface, but that was all that came from it. Your entrance sobbed at the loss of stimulation, your clit twitched and jumped in protest, but nothing could bring her back to you, and as quickly as you had tasted relief, it was gone and just nothing. 

“No!” You sobbed, your hand shooting out to grab Wanda’s wrist and drag it back to your uncomfortable core. She merely laughed at your distress, the sound foreign and cold as it rolled off her lips. Wanda had been mean, she’d been harsh and unforgiving, but she’d never been cruel. Not like this. Not with you. You didn’t know what to do with yourself as you stomped your feet and wiggling helplessly against the edge of the counter, unable to form the words that wouldn’t convince her to help you, but again, you didn’t know that this had been her plan all along; that no matter how much you begged and cried, she wasn’t going to make you cum. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not even for the rest of the week. It depended on the state of your attitude. 

With a frown of sympathy that didn’t even attempt to be perceived as authentic, Wanda had the audacity to coo at your distressed expression and reach her hand out to gently cup your cheek that was damp from falling tears. “You didn’t like that, huh?” She questioned, her green eyes unwavering in their position of dominance. You shook your head feverishly, unable to stop the twitches of movement that made your entire body tremble. She offers you no support, no endearing kiss and soft reassurance, she’s allowed you to make your bed, it’s not her problem you’re expected to lay in it now. “You weren’t supposed to, devchonka. When you’re ready to talk about what’s bothering you, like the contract that’s been open in my office for the last week, we’ll see about fixing your little issue.” 

You swallowed thickly at the words she whispered against the sensitive shell of your ear, at the fact that she had figured out where your thoughts laid without you even saying anything. You wondered if she had told Natasha, wondered how long she had known what your attitude was about and had just been waiting for you to bring it up to her yourself. You had so many questions, but you always seemed to have questions when it came to Wanda and the ways in which she worked. Of course you had your own copy of the contract, they’d be horrible lawyers if they sent you away without one, but it had been thrown into a random box with the rest of your belongings when you had moved out of your dorm room in May. When you remembered the terms of the contract one afternoon, or more specifically when the agreed upon end would be, you’d sought out one of their copies, and Wanda’s was easiest to find. Her office was so meticulously clean and organized that it hadn’t been a hard task, but that should’ve been your first sign of caution. You were stupid to think she wouldn’t notice you’d been in there snooping around, you were even dumber for forgetting to put it back. So clearly in your mind you could remember how you fled in a state of panic when your eyes reached the black printed end date, August Third. You hadn’t been back in there since, and for the week that had followed, the contract had surely been sitting open and tear stained on her desk. You were an idiot. 

The only thing you could think to do as panic flared in your chest like a category five hurricane, was run in the opposite direction. Never in your life had you stood and faced a problem head on, and now was no time to start. Would she terminate the contract early? Would she berate you for having been in her office at all? You knew they had confidential files in almost every available drawer, and your heart raced with the possibility of her thinking you’d read them. You hadn’t, you’d only been looking for the contract, but you’d messed up too badly to even beg her to believe you on that. When the initial shock subsided, and you were aware enough to realize that Wanda had stepped away from you and offered you space, you didn’t even bother to grab your phone before you headed for the exit. You hadn’t stepped into your flip flops that had gained a permanent place beside the front door, didn’t even look back at Natasha calling for you to calm down and come back to her, you needed to get out of there before you could make things any worse. You're certain that Wanda hadn’t meant to rattle you so severely, she was just tired of dancing around the issue, but the damage was done, and you couldn’t stick around to see how it unfolded. 

The front door didn’t close behind you like you’d hoped. Your hand had barely even grazed against the edge of the door when you’d flailed your limb out towards it and you’d left in too much of a hurry for the gentle touch to matter anyways. Unfortunately for both them and you, it gave them the perfect glimpse of your form as it shot straight down the familiar route toward the beach. You hadn’t wanted them to know where you were going, hadn’t even considered it much, but it was an unconscious response after so many late night walks with Natasha. A sense of ease washed over Wanda when she could at least predict where you’d be going, but Natasha, who didn’t have the privilege of knowing what Wanda knew, was left to question whether she should go after you or not. You hadn’t brought shoes, and even if the shore was only seven blocks from the house, the asphalt would burn your skin in seconds. Despite the comfort that should’ve come with the fact that you were headed in the direction of a familiar and relatively safe location, Wanda could hear the rushing of blood in her ears as she retreated back to the living room and dropped down beside Natasha on the couch. Her face was the only indication of her worry, as her shoulders took the precision of a lawyer and sat aligned with her hips. 

Natasha sat absolutely stock still on the couch, her green eyes bouncing between Wanda’s crestfallen face and the open front door where she could vividly picture you standing so tensely before you were gone entirely. She’d known there was a problem, known that Wanda was on her last ounce of patience with your persistent disobedience, but she had placed all of her faith into her wife’s ability to handle things. She was accustomed to your bouts of bad days, aware that most of them came when your mother attempted to stir trouble in your life, but this felt different, this felt personal. Natasha’s gut clenched in guilt that she couldn’t even fathom the reason for. They’d been strict, and they’d been lenient, but any side of them hadn’t been received well, even when they approached you as equals. What you needed in this moment was anyone's guess, because anyone she tried to be for you only failed to help. Brokenly, like the world had just run away from her heart, Natasha kept her gaze steady on Wanda, begging to know what had happened. “What was that about?” The softest hint of not being a born and raised American played on the edge of her words, an indication that she was beyond upset. 

Wanda sighed, knowing it was never an easy conversation to be had when Natasha was too emotional to keep her accent out of her words. The woman preferred the American accent she’d adopted after nearly twenty-five years in the States, but no amount of practice could ever fully take Russia out of her heart. Natasha might put it on thick when she was trying to wind her up, might throw it out boldly when she wants to catch you off guard, but when it was soft, when it was gentle and broken, the Sokovian knows that it isn’t intentional. After so many years together she’s become fluent in the subtle tells of the woman's emotions. “She was looking at the contract a couple of days ago.” Wanda knows what her wife needs, and so she lets her own native accent lace her words. In this moment, they’re just two women from places of destruction that thought they had finally found something good. They’re not CEO’s with enough money to buy a country if they so pleased, they’re not dominants who seek to have control and obedience, they’re merely two hearts that just watched a piece of them run away in tears. 

“Why?” Natasha frowns when she finally processes the simple sentence Wanda whispered into the dry and heavy air around their warm and lonely bodies. She tries to wrack her brain for anything that she might’ve done in recent days that had violated the terms you’d agreed on, but she can’t find a single reason for you to have sought out Wanda’s copy of the contract and fled the way you did. Things had been going so well, only a few weeks ago she had asked you how you wanted to spend the anniversary of your dynamic, and she’d not seen even an ounce of reluctance in your eyes when you said you just wanted to spend it with her and Wanda. She’d been looking forward to it since then, meticulously sneaking off to her office and planning little things to fill the day with that she knew you would adore. She’d already drafted a new contract, one that was void of an end date because as much as she knew she wanted you eternally, that wasn’t yet a conversation that she had come to you with. Did you not want that now? Had she been a fool to ever think you did? 

Wanda’s face melted at the utterly crushed gleam that rested within Natasha’s typically vibrant green eyes. Sadness wasn’t even a strong enough word to abridge the kaleidoscope of emotions that crashed against her features like the shore, but Wanda didn’t need words, she already knew. She was feeling it too. “O, milaya.” She smiles sadly, knowing that as sharp as her wife can be, she was blind to the little gestures of love you’d been throwing out. She reciprocated them all, went above and beyond for you, but her own past had tainted the purity of affection. That was not something Wanda could blame her for missing, but didn’t stop her from hating. “She’s scared. As much as you have a hard time realizing that girl is head over heels for you, my best guess is that she thinks all of this,” Wanda gestures around the visible rooms, her eyes sweeping over your shoes in the entryway before they fall on the baby blue blanket Natasha had bought solely with you in mind that now lives on the loveseat in a ball. There are so many subtle traces of your presence that linger in their perfectly kept rooms, and Wanda adores each and every one. “is because of the contract.”

Natasha feels so stupid for not having realized the cause of your apprehension toward her sooner. If it were possible for her heart to break into a million pieces of sharp glass, she’s sure the organ would have crumbled into dust by now. She wonders how many nights you had laid awake between her and Wanda and tallied them off as one of your last chances to do so. The exhaustion on your face makes sense now, the inward spiraling she’d watched you do wasn’t so random anymore. She hates that she spent the first ten years of her life in a family void of love, she hates that even now at thirty-four, she hasn’t figured out how to show how she feels clearly. If she could just get over herself, maybe you wouldn’t be questioning your place in her home. “No.” Natasha shakes her head, her eyes begging with Wanda to believe the next string of words that fall from her tongue, “I-I love her.” 

Wanda smiles that same sad smile again, and her hands that are free of scars and calluses hold firmly to Natasha’s cheeks. It’s not the same grip that she’d held you with in the kitchen, it’s softer and tender and expels all of her unspoken emotions that nobody has found the words for yet. Tears glimmer in her eyes as she nods her head to the whispered admission that had been danced around for four months. Wanda’s always known that her wife has found another home in your heart, just like she’s always known that you’ve found a home in hers. She’s accepted that, but beyond that, she’s found a home in you too. “I know that, Natalia. YA nikogda ne zadavalsya etim voprosom. Nikodga. YA tozhe yeye lyublyu. YA lyublyu vas oboikh.” 

Natasha’s eyes brim with tears at the whispered confession in her native language. Sokovian and Russian are close enough to understand without having to learn the other, but Wanda had gone the extra mile to make her feel at home even thousands of miles away. Russia had never felt as soft as Wanda does in this moment, and Natasha can’t even begin to explain how disgustingly in love she is with the woman sat beside her. “My skazali, chto eto ne bylo nikakikh usloviy. My smotreli Pinokkio, i ty spel mne etu pesnyu. YA obeshchal tebe nikakikh usloviy.” Tears leak down Natasha’s face in single streams that resemble rivers, but Wanda’s quick to wipe them away, thinking her wife’s face is too beautiful to hold such sorrow. 

A wet chuckle falls from Wanda’s lips as she shakes her head, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her mouth that can’t quite stay in place with the sadness that keeps her still. “Vsegda byli kakiye-to usloviya, dorogaya. Menya ustraivayut eti struny. YA khochu eti struny.” There’s understanding and acceptance in her eyes, and Natasha doesn’t understand how she’s done something good enough to deserve a wife so accommodating. Wanda’s always known that Natasha was never fully hers, much like she’s always known she was never fully Natashas. Their hearts were forged in the same fire of pain and suffering. Wanda lost her home to bombings and war, Natasha lost hers to violent abuse. They were the best and worst parts of one another but you; you fit on them like a glass slipper made by magic. You fulfilled every part of their traumatized souls that they’d thought would remain empty until death took them whole. You showed them unconditional love, and yeah, you were blemished and traumatized too, but that just made it better.  

“I should have gone after her.” Natasha whispers into the silence that hasn’t fully come over the house in weeks. There was never silence when you were around, even when you slept whispered words of sweetness fell into the air as you wiggled and tossed in a dream she could only hope was innocent as you are. Her head falls forward until her forehead rests against Wanda, their green eyes that are so vastly different but similar connecting passionately. There’s worry brewing in her chest that she just can’t ignore, not when you’re out there without any way to communicate with them. You’re a perfectly capable adult, she knows that you can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to; not when you have her. 

“She needed space, moya lyubov’. She’ll come back to us.” Wanda mumbles, her lips ghosting over Natasha’s. It’s not quite a kiss, neither one of them lean into it, but neither of them pull away either. Right now, they just need to be close, they just need to hold onto hope that wherever you are, you’ve found the peace you needed. 

“She has to.” Natasha lets her eyes fall closed, and she silently counts the beats of her heart that she can feel against her ribcage. She loves you. She hadn’t been ready to admit it before, but it’s the only thing she can think of now. 

There’s a wistful smile on Wanda’s lips, and her eyes are so far away that Natasha knows she’s thinking of something specific. Whatever memory it is, she doesn’t ask. She just leans into her wife and hopes that she’s right, but Wanda’s never wrong, so there's no reason to worry. “She will. She always does.” 

-

The sand is coarse beneath your feet as the shore gets farther and farther behind you, off in the distance there's a seagull swooping down to steal the sandwich that one of the shoobies has packed from home, but you don’t witness the chaos unfold as you pace your way toward land. You don’t know how long it's been, but you know that the sun has shifted in the sky and the faintest wisp of pink clings to the horizon. The end of daylight is an approaching promise, and when it dawns on Westview you want nothing more than to be wrapped up safely in Wanda's arms for the duration of it. Even if it ends tomorrow, you need just one more night where you can pretend it’s all real. 

There’s a pair of vibrant seafoam green flip flops on your feet that aren’t yours, but the child who left them behind doesn’t miss them too much, hopefully at least. They barely fit, the heels of your feet hanging over the edge, but you're willing to suffer if it means avoiding the searing hot pavement on your journey back to the Maximoff residence. You don’t know why you ran, don’t know why you allowed yourself to fall back on that learned response to anything going awry, but there was nothing you could do to change how you reacted now. The time away had forced you into sounder thoughts, and the song of the ocean as it crashed against land had eased you down from panic quite well. All that lingered through your body now was longing for arms that felt forbidden, but you hoped they would make an exception just this once. The seven blocks back to the Maximoff residence was well known. You watched as the pastel homes that lined the coast as far as the eye could see became muted buildings and beige houses, counting down the sharp corners until the last number that remained was one. Six blocks had passed too quickly, in the estimated eleven minutes that it had been since your back faced the shore and your mind had made the decision to return, you hadn’t had the time to prepare yourself for what could possibly await you when you entered. The house could be ripped to shreds, or it could be still in perfect silence. Those had been the only two options when you were a child, but you found that it was neither when you finally mustered up the courage to set your hand on the unlocked knob and twist. 

You felt the eeriest sense of deja vu ambush your already hypersensitive nerves as you set your gaze on Wanda and Natasha cuddled together on the couch, watching old sitcom reruns beneath the blanket that had been bought by Natasha, and until this moment, solely used by you. Wanda had put up such a fuss about how it clashed with the theme they’d decorated the room with, you thought she might demand Natasha return it the very instance she saw it peeking out of a shopping bag, but that threat never came, and after seeing how in love you were with the feather light material, she had never even dared to move it into the linen closet where every other blanket they owned resided. Seeing them cuddled beneath something that had been bought specifically for you stirred feelings in your chest that you would much rather avoid but you wouldn’t run from your problems again. 

When your presence was noticed, it was merely seconds before two sets of strong and familiar arms wrapped tightly around your neck and torso. Wanda’s head burrowed deep into your chest seeking darkness while Natasha’s found a comfortable home in your shoulder demanding promise that you were real. It was never you in this position, with women clinging onto you desperately like you might vanish, but now that it was, you didn’t know what to do to console them. You mirrored the actions they’d done for you so many times before, hoping that it was the right move. One of your hands fell on the center of Wanda’s back, while the other curled into Natasha’s hair tightly. A strangled sigh escaped from your lips when you submitted to the comfort they radiated, but you knew that forgiveness was too good to be true, so you waited with baited breath for the other shoe to drop. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” Wanda mumbled into your chest, your skin kissed by unrelenting sunlight unsurprisingly warm beneath her cheek as she craned her head to look up into your eyes that were already looking down at her. Her knees must be bent, because otherwise she’d be nearly six inches taller than you, but you appreciate the shift in position even if it’s foreign. You’ve never noticed how thin the bridge of her nose is until now, and softly, unable to help yourself, you leaned down to kiss the unblemished and freckle-free skin. Her eyes fluttered closed at the close proximity of your faces, but if you thought that would’ve been enough to quell her scolding, you were wrong. “Do you hear me, dorogaya. Do not ever leave like that again.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of your sleep shirt and you felt your heart sink with guilt. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, not even sure if the weight behind your words was strong enough to reach her ears comprehensively. Tears brimmed within your eyes before you could stop them, and you felt small in your skin like it didn’t really fit on your body. Wanda pulled away from your embrace first, her head shaking firmly left to right as she unmade you with one simple look. You didn’t understand how she could do that, but you felt properly vulnerable beneath her heavy stare.

Her words were soft, and her hand reached out to tenderly hold your face. It would be weeks before they could trust that you wouldn’t go running away again. “Don’t apologize. There’s no reason to apologize.” She promised genuinely, even though you felt like that was the furthest thing from the truth. “I just need you to promise you’ll never run like that again. You don’t even know how badly you scared me, angel.” Her voice was raw, thin and shaky, and you realized quickly that the anger you’d been expecting was nowhere to be found. In place of it however, was worry and concern that could make even the worst person weak in the knees with sympathy. 

“I won’t.” You returned the gentle whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to collect yourself. Natasha still gripped you firmly and persistently, her hands clawing at the loose fabric of your sleep shirt like she was trying to get beneath it without really removing it at all. You’d never seen her so distressed before, and your eyes met Wanda’s in a panic not knowing what to do to console her. 

Wanda smiled softly at you before her hand fell onto the small of Natasha’s back and rubbed gentle circles. You absorbed the little pieces of information that was being provided, pocketing them for a later date that in full transparency, you hoped never came. You didn’t like seeing her so out of sorts, and you especially didn’t like being the reason for it. “Ona nikuda ne denetsya, dorogaya. Teper' ty mozhesh' otpustit'. Posmotri na neye, ona nastoyashchaya. Ona bol'she ne uydet. Vse normal'no.” Wanda’s words were quick and soft, delivered in what you could only assume was Russia, but they seemed to work effectively because not even a second later, Natasha was pulling away from where she had attached herself to you and her eyes searched your face and body for any visible injuries. 

“I’m okay.” You promised softly, not entirely sure if your word meant anything to her anymore, but hoping that they still did. You didn’t need to hear her internal questions to know what answer she wanted from you, and you were more than willing to provide what little information you could if it meant sparing you the heartbreak of having to witness her so broken down again. You didn’t have all the answers she wanted though, and that part pained you deeply. As much as you knew why you had run, and you could explain it to her if she asked, you didn’t have any valid reason as to why Wanda’s words had spooked you so much. Maybe it was the confirmation that things were really changing, or maybe it was something entirely different that you would never know. “A little sunburnt, but I’m okay.” You added when you sensed her hesitation to believe you, and she nodded curtly at your added affirmation. There was no denying the tautness in your cheeks, the only indication that sat on your skin that you’d wake up in lingering pain tomorrow. Sun burns had never been so common for you, but now you have one nearly every week. 

Wanda guided your attention back to her carefully, not wanting to rattle you like she had hours prior. Your wide eyes stared into hers without any hesitation or reluctance, clinging onto the open silence that rested comfortably overtop of you. The walls that you had slowly been building for the last week were finally gone, and in their places was the girl that she knew was just desperate for affection and tender care. Wanda hadn’t realized how much she missed you until she had you back, and she promised herself she’d never let you slip so far away again. “Are you ready to talk to us, milaya moya?” 

You nodded your head at her simple question, not wanting to avoid the topic any longer then you already had. It wouldn’t get any easier the longer you waited, and desperately you wanted all to be forgiven so you could lean up and kiss her. It didn’t feel right to do that now, not when you hadn’t offered her any kind of explanation or apology for your ongoing behavior. She took your hand routinely, a small habit that had formed in the weeks that followed the change in your relationship. She was always leading you around, always hovering and assuring that you were content and okay. If you were in a public space, she set the expectations that if you weren’t holding onto her or Natasha, you were within eyeshot. If you were in the car, even if she’d heard your seatbelt click into place, she was leaning over to fix it and assure it fell over your chest correctly. There was so much love in her simple actions, you felt like crying just recounting a few of them in your head. She guided you over to the couch, only letting go of your hand so that she could ease you down onto the soft cushions that welcomed your weight without protest and drape the soft blue blanket across your sun kissed thighs. You were thankful for the addition of your blanket, already cold from the abrupt displacement of the unfiltered sun against your skin. 

“Can I go first?” Wanda asked cautiously once all three of you were settled on the couch. Natasha was curled up against the arm of the sofa, looking entirely unlike herself as she gnawed nervously on her bottom lip and flickered her gaze between you and Wanda. The Sokovian was in a similar position, though her hand was grasping yours securely and her thumb ran over your knuckling soothingly. Natasha made no attempt to touch you, and you tried to swallow down your disappointment. You didn’t deserve her touch, you were lucky enough to have Wanda. 

You nodded at the lawyer's question, your eyes briefly trailing over to gaze at Natasha, wanting to assure that it was alright with her that you allow Wanda to take control of the conversation for the time being. It would give you time to get your own thoughts in order, and Natasha had no protests about the idea, inclining her head the slightest inch. Wanda smiled softly at the both of you, her grip never wavering around your hand. “I’ll start with what I think spooked you so badly this afternoon.” Wanda’s voice was soft and patient, no ounce of anger lingering in her tone like you’d been expecting. It was as if you’d already been forgiven for your week-long attitude and misbehavior, something that was still foreign to you after nearly a year of being treated this way. The Maximoff’s never went to bed angry, it was a rule within their own relationship that had also fallen upon you, but you aren’t sure that you’d ever get used to it. “I found the contract on my desk a few days ago. I thought nothing of it until I noticed how you started to pull away from Natasha and I.” You winced slightly, shame rushing over you, but Wanda merely smiled encouragingly down at you when she felt the minor movement. “I had hoped that you would come to us when you were ready to talk about it. I didn’t want to rush you into a conversation you couldn’t handle. Natasha and I work so well because we communicate with one another, sometimes it takes a couple of days for us to sort out our thoughts on something that we don’t agree with, but we make it a point not to hold any judgment until we have the full story. This is all so new to you still, I figured you might like the same curiosity. I can take responsibility for not addressing the issue sooner; for not letting you know that I saw you were upset right away. It must’ve seemed like we didn’t care about what was going on in that pretty little head of yours, but that was never the reason we didn’t say anything. Your feelings matter just as much as ours, this is not a one-sided relationship. You don’t have to make yourself small just so we’re not inconvenienced. With that being said, I shouldn’t have approached you the way that I did in the kitchen. That was a lot of new things all at once when you were already feeling pretty confused, huh?” 

You listened intently to Wanda’s words, hanging onto her every syllable as you gave her your full undivided attention. At some point, Natasha’s body had curled into yours, but you barely even recognized the way she was trying to hold you as you let yourself fall into a world where only you and Wanda existed. Behind her, daylight had melted into blackness, nightfall in full swing overtop of Westview. The weight of her apology had struck a chord within your broken heart, and you’d almost violently flinched away from it, but by some miracle, you remained perfectly still. It didn’t feel right to be receiving such an honest apology, but you knew she’d only fight you on the matter if you spoke up about how undeserving you felt. You just barely managed to nod your head at her question, squeezing her hand tightly. “Yeah.” 

“How did you feel about it?” She smiled encouragingly, always eager to hear your opinions on the new things they implemented when you were in the proper headspace to accurately communicate how it had made you feel. It was all still so new to you, and talking about sex felt like something cliche, but you tried your best for them. At the follow up question, you became faintly aware of how Natasha’s hand slipped beneath your t-shirt and sat firmly on the warm skin of your back, reassuring you that she was there as well and at the first sign of trouble she’d pull you out. 

“I… liked it.” You admitted shyly, your gaze flickering down to the blanket that covered your thighs and brought a comforting warmth over your body that goosebumps had threatened to adorn had she not covered you so quickly. You found that running your fingers over the soft blue checkered pattern was more interesting than meeting Wanda’s intense stare, still not entirely used to the way that it made you feel vulnerable. “I didn’t like when you pulled away though.” 

She smiled sympathetically, and this time it was genuine. Flashes of the earlier afternoon settled at the forefront of your memory, and you could distinctly recall how her grin had been anything but what it was now when you were pinned between her body and the counter writing in frustration. “You weren’t supposed to like that part, milaya. How do you feel about keeping ruined orgasms as punishment?” 

“Okay.” You shrugged, not really having an opinion on the subject. It wasn’t something you hated, not even really something you minded if you were going to be honest, but the idea of incorporating it into your sex life felt too bold. If you were going to be giving yourself over to Wanda or Natasha, you didn’t want the decision of if you were going to be allowed to enjoy your climax fully to be fully over your head the entire time. You were aware enough to know that a situation like that would only trigger your anxiety. 

“Okay.” Wanda copied your words, a teasing smile pulling at her lips when you finally mustered up the courage to meet her eyes again. A timid blush settled across your cheeks with heat that rivaled the summer sun, a shy smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you sat beneath her pride filled expression, but you didn’t back away from her stare, slowly gaining back the confidence you had lost. “Now, do you wanna tell us why you were so upset about the contract? I think we have a pretty good idea, but we need to hear it in your words.” 

You swallowed thickly, almost tempted to shake your head and push the conversation off for another time, but Natasha gripped your waist soothingly and spared you a smile that felt limited now. You hated that you had been the cause of her distress, hated that it still lingered on her face and there was nothing you could do to amend it. You took a breath, trying to keep yourself together before you fell apart again. How do you tell two married women that you love them? There’s not exactly a handbook that goes through step-by-step explanations for this sort of conversation. “The contract ends soon. In less than eight weeks. I don’t– I can’t– I don’t want to just– You’re married!” You finally bellowed, frustration lacing your tone at the jumbled mess of words that got caught in the back of your throat before they’d even become full sentences. “You’re married and I’m just a contract and I– I like this. I like being here with you, and I’m scared about what happens when it ends and you have no obligation to keep me around. I thought that if I pushed you away it would make having to leave easier.” 

You didn’t want to see the expressions on their faces as you cracked, everything you’d been meaning to tell them for weeks and long days finally out in front of you for them to analyze and criticize however they pleased. Maybe it wasn’t everything, maybe you’d kept some very major things to yourself, but it was enough to leave you feeling vulnerable and raw. Your eyes glimmered with tears, the lights in the room reflecting off of them in a way that allowed them to resemble stars. Wanda thought you were too pretty to cry, but she also couldn’t help but get lost in the galaxy you allowed the world to witness. It was Natasha’s voice that captured your attention, and your head snapped in her direction when the first words out of her mouth were an apology. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear to you how much I want you here, moy malen'kiy utenok.” Her voice cracked as she held onto your stare, feeling just as vulnerable as you as she let herself be less than a world-class lawyer for the time being. She was just Natalia right now, sat beside you with her own set of tears dampening her eyes and a pout that wasn’t quite a frown on her lips that were the same color as fresh unskinned peaches. She wasn’t Natasha, the version of herself who had her entire life figured out and laid in perfect rows ahead of her, but Natalia, the woman who had just barely survived childhood in Russia before she was adopted by a family that had just barely escaped years prior. Even if Melina and Alexei weren’t perfect parents, they tried so hard to be the remedy that her shattered heart needed. The words Melina had engraved in her mind were the only thing that kept her talking as she stared down at you. You didn’t realize that behind you, Wanda was mouthing the words like a mantra, an added element of encouragement that Natasha didn’t really need, but appreciated nonetheless; ‘Pain only makes you stronger, big girl. Do not cry over the growth you are experiencing’. “You are not just a contract. You’ve never been just a contract, I hate that you even think that’s all you are. Before I met Wanda, the only person I had ever known how to love was Yelena. And even then, I didn’t do it right most of the time. My parents… they believed that love was your greatest weakness. They taught me how to hate, and how to hide who I am. I’m still learning how to let people in.” Natasha drew a shaky breath in, her fingers that rested on the skin of your hip clutched you tightly, begging you to stay; to see and believe the truth in her words. “I put that end date on your contract so that you would have the choice to decide if, when the year ended, you wanted to stay. It was never meant to be an official end. Honey, I could never let you walk out of my life. Not fully. Not without at least trying to get you to stay. I look forward to coming home to you just as much as I look forward to coming home to Wanda. YA tebya lyublyu.” 

Your breath caught in your throat at the whispered confession she was certain you couldn’t understand. You heard her and Wanda whisper sweet nothings in their native languages often, but you never paid close enough attention to them. It had always felt intimate, like a secret only they were allowed to know, but you’d spent countless hours teaching yourself simpler phrases and sayings. A wet smile pulled your lips firmly upward, and you leaned just close enough for your forehead to brush against Natasha’s. You didn’t know she’d done the same thing to Wanda earlier, but Sokovian smiled softly at your likeness, even if the both of you were painfully blind to it. 

“I love you too.” You whispered back, your eyes locked firmly on the Russian’s. You smirked smugly at the expression of pure surprise that easily captured Natasha’s features, and you fondly remembered a similar look crossing Wanda’s face when you had pleaded with her to stop teasing. “I’ve been teaching myself. Little phrases, nothing major, not yet at least. I can’t speak it very well, but I can confidently understand when you call me an idiot and think I’m none the wiser.”  Wanda laughed softly at your admission, though Natasha’s cheeks flushed crimson knowing she’d been caught, on multiple occasions. She always did it affectionately, that was never a question in your mind, but you enjoyed teasing her, and you especially enjoyed seeing that warm smile come back to her face. “YA tebya lyublyu.” You whispered to her, your face mere inches from hers. 

“Say it again.” Natasha demanded, her eyes laced with lust that hadn’t been taken care of by your hands in days. You would certainly need to fix that. You merely remained smug against your spot on the couch, acutely aware of how Wanda’s arms circled around your waist and pinned you to her chest. You raised your hands to cup her still flushed cheeks, gingerly pressing your lips to her nose in a kiss too soft to fully quench her need for you. With her face in your hands, you briefly flashed back to the impromptu escapade you’d embarked on in the shower on the morning of their Memorial Day barbeque, more specifically how quickly she’d managed to flip your position in a matter of seconds, but you still dared to try and remain the one in control anyway. 

You shook your head at her request, certain that your lips would remain in a permanent smirk if she didn’t do something about it soon. “Show me.” You uttered, the need to taunt her thick and evident in your simple demand that only further drove her crazy. “Show me how much you love me, Nat.” The breathiness of your words brushed against her face, and she didn’t hesitate to comply for a single second. She’d be a proper full to turn you down. 

Lips that tasted faintly of cherry met yours in a passionate embrace that had a moan slipping from your open mouth and into hers. The force of her attack had been unsuspected, and it sent you falling backward into Wanda who accepted the heavy weight of your body against hers greedily. There was no fight for dominance, no urgency in Natasha’s kiss. She had kissed you a million times before but none had ever felt so vulnerable and real and right. You weren’t kissing her as your dominant. No, for the first time ever you were kissing her as the woman you loved. She licked at you slowly, tasting every inch of your mouth like it was the first and last time she’d ever have the opportunity to do so, and you allowed her that freedom without complaint. Your tongue clashed with hers on multiple occasions, the both of you too eager to prove your love that rhythm failed you. Each time your tongue touched, you moaned in tandem and grew red in the face. Not from embarrassment, but because neither of you had come up for air since leaning forward. Wanda, despite not being a part of your make-out session, had made herself busy behind you, not wanting to miss out entirely. Her soft lips ran over the skin on your neck, dampened by her tongue that had swept across them eager. She was careful not to hurt you, knowing all the places that became especially sensitive when you were turned on, but she made every effort to make her claim against your skin as she bit and sucked on expanses of skin that had miraculously remained unmarked until this moment. When Natasha bit down on your bottom lip, you couldn’t take the pleasure any longer, and your head tilted backward in pure ecstasy.  

“I want– I want your clothes off. Both of you..” You choked out breathlessly, just barely managing to pull yourself away from Wanda’s mouth on your neck, despite wanting to drown yourself in the sensations she was causing to shoot down your spine. You could appreciate their slow pace another day, but right now, all you wanted was to have them fully, to take their bodies into your hands and make them cum. It had been far too long since you’d last had the privilege. 

“Look at you making demands.” Wanda teased, her teeth nipping at your neck one last time before she complied with your request. You had half the mind to push her away and roll your eyes in fond exasperation, but Natasha feverishly stripping out of her clothes had distracted you before the words could fall from between your lips in a rushed mumble. The Russian wasted no time in making the act look sexy, you’d seen her be sexy about three million and one times. Right now was not about appearances, it was solely about connecting with the two women you loved. The women you loved. The women who loved you. Even if Wanda hadn’t said it, letting you have your moment with Natasha, you felt it. You felt it in the way she’d held you so tightly at the door. You felt it in the way she made sure you had a blanket when she sat you down to talk. You felt it now as the tenderness of your neck set in firmly. You were so beyond loved, and you loved them so beyond much. Natasha’s hair was a tousled and properly frizzy mess by the time she had actually managed to pull her shirt away from her body and discard it haphazardly on the floor to be picked up later, but you thought she looked stunning with wild curls framing her face and a flush blush to her cheeks and neck. Her leggings went next, and with them came a set of royal blue panties you’d never seen before. You’d definitely be making it known how much you loved them when you were in the proper mindset to speak full sentences. 

Wanda forced your head in her direction after her clothes had joined the already existing heap of fabric on the floor. Your sleep shirt and shorts were nestled somewhere between the both of their more presentable outfits, but you couldn’t help but think the difference of wardrobe perfectly summarized your relationship. It felt especially fitting in this moment with your body pressed between the both of them. Wanda pulled you in for a desperate kiss, her lips softer then Natasha’s but her teeth crueler. You whined when she pulled away too soon for your liking, but it was replaced with a desperate moan when she breathed out instructions against your lips, “You’re going to eat me out, and Natasha’s going to finger you.” 

“What about– What about Nat?” You questioned, but Wanda was already lowering her position on the couch and spreading her legs for you to see her fully. You groaned at the wetness that clung to the inside of her thighs, not even sparing a single second before you dove straight into her dripping cunt. The first taste of her arousal against your tongue had forced you into autopilot. You’d become fluent in the language of her pussy, and it hadn’t failed you yet as you lapped at her clit with a heavy pressure and let your fingers explore her entrance before they dipped in fully. You hadn’t thought that this could get any better, but then you felt Natasha’s warm cunt settle firmly against the back of your flexed calf. Your doggy position gave her the perfect chiseled surface to grind against however she pleased. You didn’t have questions about her pleasure anymore, knowing exactly how the Russian planned to cum; on your leg. 

The groan that slipped past your lips when two of her fingers pushed against your weeping entrance shot right into Wanda’s clit, and the Sokovian moaned loudly at the sensation that tickled up her belly and through her spine. Your tongue worked double time against her sensitive bundle of nerves, and eventually your fingers found a brutal pace that matched Natasha’s. Every time the Russian’s fingers curled into your softest spot, yours curled into Wanda’s. Every time the Russian’s hips stuttered against your calf, your tongue flicked harshly at Wanda’s clit. Your motions were perfectly in sync. They weren’t romantic, they lacked grace and care, but they were exactly what you all needed in this moment. When Wanda cried out in pleasure that came solely from your mouth and fingers, a complete sense of pride washed over you. Your tongue didn’t stop caressing her clit, working her farther and farther up the hill Natasha had you climbing steadily. 

It was only when the Russian’s thumb rubbed a particularly harsh and tight circle against your clit that you came with a body shaking moan that effectively pushed Wanda over that same edge. Natasha wasn’t far behind, and when you’d only just started to come down from your intense high, she was reaching hers. Her hips stuttered and jerked against your naked calf that glistened with her juices undoubtedly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from flexing the muscle beneath her weight. You collapsed against Wanda’s chest the second you had felt Natasha go slack behind you, and slowly, you pulled your fingers from where they rested in her cunt. Cheekily, you licked them clean, maintaining eye contact all the while. Natasha wasn’t as selfish. Her fingers shot out to Wanda’s lips in a second, and the Sokovian allowed their weighted presence in her mouth as she lapped up for juices. The sight was unreal, and if you hadn’t already been jello against her chest, you were certain you would’ve melted into her. 

“Wands?” You called out sleepy, not having the energy to even crane your head and search for her eyes in the dim lighting of the living room. 

“Yes, dorogaya?” She answered you softly, her own eyes fluttering closed just as Natasha found a comfortable position against the back of the couch. Your limbs were entangled, thighs between thighs and ankles crossed over, but you made it work. It would leave you with a serious kink in your neck tomorrow, but for tonight, it was the only place you wanted to be. 

“I love you too.” You whispered in Sokovian, having practiced them tirelessly since the first day you realized that your feelings for Wanda had never been hatred. You found that the languages merged beautifully together, but you wanted Wanda to feel just as seen and special as Natasha. You didn’t see her face when the words fell from your lips, you wish you’d had the energy to look at her when you finally admitted defeat and gave into your confused feelings, but just feeling the way her breath hitched in your chest was enough for you in this moment. 

Her hand, still adorned with rings that were cold to the touch, fell onto the small of your back like they’d always belonged exactly there, and held you to her chest tightly, not wanting to risk for even a single moment that if she wasn’t touching you, you’d fall away and never return. “I love you too, sweetheart. So much. You don’t even know.” 

“I do.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy and unable to fight against sleep, but there was one last thing that you wanted to say before you gave in entirely and left this perfect moment to be just another memory. “Natty?” You called, hoping the Russian was still awake against your side. 

“Yes, moya lyubov’.” Her voice was thick, gravely as it fell into the silence that was pulling you deeper beneath the blanket of dreamland that hadn’t felt peaceful in days. 

“YA tebya lyublyu.” You barely managed to get out, but you did, and just before you fell asleep, you heard her mumble back the same. 

It may not be perfect, but it didn’t really need to be.

I know that, Natalia. YA nikogda ne zadavalsya etim voprosom. Nikodga. YA tozhe yeye lyublyu. YA lyublyu vas oboikh. — I never questioned that. I love her too. I love both of you.

My skazali, chto eto ne bylo nikakikh usloviy. My smotreli Pinokkio, i ty spel mne etu pesnyu. YA obeshchal tebe nikakikh usloviy. — We said it was no strings attached. We watched Pinnochio and you sang the song to me. I promised you no strings.

Vsegda byli kakiye-to usloviya, dorogaya. Menya ustraivayut eti struny. YA khochu eti struny. — There was always going to be strings attached, honey. I'm okay with these strings. I want these strings.

Ona nikuda ne denetsya, dorogaya. Teper' ty mozhesh' otpustit'. Posmotri na neye, ona nastoyashchaya. Ona bol'she ne uydet. Vse normal'no. — She's not going anywhere, darling. You can let go now. Look at her, she's real. She's not leaving again. It's okay.

moy malen'kiy utenok — my little duckling

[nathaslosthershit]

Trips to See the In-Laws (LS2)

Summary: In order to save his teammate from an interviewer with not so innocent thoughts, Alex has to reveal that his thought-to-be-single friend, Logan, is actually in a long term relationship.

“Alex, Logan, so wonderful to have you both here with me today. Now that we are rapidly approaching the first race of the season, how are you both feeling? How was both your breaks?”

“Well firstly, thank you for having us. It has honestly been crazy. Break has gone by fast and with all the training we’ve been doing, I honestly feel ready to just jump in the car and start back up.” Logan replies.

It was no secret that Logan Sargeant had been training much more during the off season, everyone had seen how much he had changed. The way the interviewer was staring at him though, as if he was their next meal, was making him shift uncomfortably in the seat. 

Alex, being as perceptive as ever, immediately saw the change in Logan’s demeanor. He was confused by it until he saw how the interviewer shifted closer to Logan, eyeing him up and down in a very flirtatious manner. He then chimed in to try and alleviate the tension. “Yeah, busy break but we have been putting in the work and I think we are both ready for this upcoming season.”

“You both look very different from the start of last year. Alex with your hair and Logan has gotten very, very fit.” Dammit, this interviewer really wasn’t going to let it go, Alex thought.

“Um yeah, we are both pretty different looks wise.” Alex weakly responded. What was he supposed to say, the interviewer didn’t exactly ask a question.

“I was in a pretty bad state at the end of last season, both mentally and physically. I worked really hard this off season to improve both of those things and gained 5 kilos. I feel much better now that I am at a more healthy weight and I think it just cements how much more learning and growing I needed last year.” God, how can the interviewer continue to try and eye fuck Logan while he gives such a sincere and vulnerable answer, Alex wonders. He knew he needed to help his teammate and friend in some way, but the idea that came to mind might have some consequences. But surely it was better than the alternative of letting Logan get harassed.

“Well Logan, you took some time to travel a bit since being here in New York” Alex teased.

“Ohhh, where did you go Logan?” the interviewer asked, intrigued at the blush on Logan’s face that had appeared as he picked up on where Alex was trying to go with this.

“Well actually, my girlfriend is originally from New york and still has family that live outside the city so they very kindly invited me to visit them and watch the Superbowl. She wasn’t too happy that I got to see her family while she is stuck in London but also was ecstatic that they clearly like me enough to invite me to visit even when she isn’t with me. It was sweet and such a kind gesture, definitely beats spending that night watching the game in a hotel room alone.”

“Hey, I would have watched with you. You wouldn't have been alone” Alex said, offended.

“Mate, you did not have any actual interest in watching the game.” Logan responded.

“But I still would have kept you company.” 

Before the two could continue their fight, the interviewer bursted out a very aggressively asked “Girlfriend?”

The two were quiet then, not knowing what to say. The interviewer wasn’t looking at Logan like a piece of meat anymore, but now he had to deal with this sudden hard launch of his relationship.

“Uh yeah, I have been in a relationship for a while now. Met my girlfriend when I moved to London. We lived in the same apartment and had moved in around the same time. Insane luck, I guess.” Logan answered, still blushing.

“Leave it to Logan to find the one other American in his apartment complex and immediately start dating her.” Alex teased.

“Hey! It was a coincidence and she is from New York while I’m from Florida, they are practically two different countries.”

“Yeah whatever.” Alex rolled his eyes playfully.

The interviewer, now upset at practically getting rejected, stopped asking questions and just watched as the two Willaims drivers took over the interview, rambling, and teasing each other, till it was time to end it.

The interview had immediately gained popularity once it had been posted. Not many drivers hard launch the way Logan did and while Logan hadn't anticipated that this was how his relationship was found out, he did have to thank Alex for getting him out of that situation.

logansargeant

liked by alex_albon, williamsracing, and 73,355 others

logansargeant My favorite New Yorker 💙

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #28

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

Chartreuse

Due to the high levels of ambient ectoplasm, all the citizens of Amity Park gained a permanent change in eye color. They don't glow or flare in response to rampant emotions like true ghosts or the halfas though. They're just an unnaturally bright yellow-green.

The thing is, nobody else on Earth has this eye color, and it's never been seen in the human race until the recently graduated Amity Parkers started branching out to other cities to find jobs.

Nobody paid this any mind at first, though. Many just thought the individuals liked strangely colored contacts or it was a trick of the light. It's not until Danny and Tucker are both hired for positions in Wayne Enterprises that questions start popping up.

At first, the other employees thought the two might be related. It could happen, it's not that strange. However, when both of them said they're nowhere near related, just childhood best friends, it left everyone confused. If they aren't related and they aren't wearing colored contacts, then what are the odds of too completely unrelated people having the exact same strange and unseen eye color?

After a while, everyone just stops asking questions. After all, both men are easy to get along with and are excellent at their jobs, so a strange eye color isn't really something to complain about. Their stares were just a bit more intense than most people, and honestly, they've seen stranger things.

It helps that they've started seeing other people with the same eye color popping up in celebrity, sports, and activist circles. (1)

However, It's not until the power goes out during a late meeting/presentation, and Tim Drake accidentally turns on and shines his cell phone light into Tuckers eyes, that he starts seriously digging.

Needless to say, the animal-like green shine of his pupils scared the shit out of him and got him wondering if two of his new employees were part of a previously unknown alien race that'd recently settled on Earth without anyone noticing. When he looks into the middle of nowhere town they came from, this idea is even further cemented when he sees every person he finds a photo of have the exact same shade of chartreuse eyes. Ignoring the ghost rumors and "sightings" as just a strange tourist trap for the strange little town to make extra income, he brings the info he found to the other bats and birds.

They aren't exactly welcomed when they go snooping around Amity Park, unfortunately... (2 & 3)

✦

Now. To make this a bit more cracky, when confronted, do Danny and Tucker just come clean or do they milk the idea of them being aliens for all it's worth? (4) Add in a few strange, but perfectly normal for them, things they do that have people scratching their heads and make the assumption even worse/more irrefutable. This includes the unexplainable eye shine Tim discovered.

✦

(1) Paulina became a supermodel and is coveted for her striking eye color and beautiful complexion. Dash became a coach for a well known college in Metropolis, while Kwan became a fitness trainer and sponsor for health related items that actually work, also partnered with the college Dash coaches at. Sam became a notorious environmental activist and is the enemy of many companys who are determined to turn the world into a toxic wasteland. With the help of Danny's parents, she's found many eco-friendly chemical compounds that dissolve many of the toxic substances damaging ecosystems around the world. Etc, etc.

(2) Ectoplasm exposure has made everyone a bit more territorial over the town, including their protectors. They don't need outside heroes/organizations interfering with their work and don't/won't take kindly to the sudden interest hero organizations gain over them and their strange little town. That hasn't worked out too well with other government sanctioned organizations in the past and they don't want a repeat, thank you.

(3) Maybe Team Phantom even established themselves right around the same time or even before the Justice League was formed and they just flew under the radar until now. Maybe Amity Parkers feel a bit superior due to their seniority in having an excellent team in the know about the supernatural/non-human side of the world/universe? Who knows? You pick! Amity Park has been through a lot by themselves, so it's no shocker if they have an extreme amount of solidarity towards those they call their own.

(3 cont'd) Also! Since Amity Park has become so rich and saturated in ectoplasm over the years, they were eventually annexed/became an outside part of the Ghost Zone. Jack and Maddy are border patrol and any ghosts coming through need a passport now. Amity Park is basically a vacation hub for ghosts? Ghosts can freely roam the streets, they just don't wreak havoc anymore. That'd basically be terrorizing their fellow citizens at this point anyway and that's a no no. That means jail time with Walker. Amity Parkers also aren't afraid anymore and in fact CAN hit back now. This does not stop the Bat Clan and eventually the Justice League from thinking they're a town full of aliens tho. Some are just more human looking than others. Or they've been on Earth and procreating long enough with humans that their hybrid offspring have also started looking more human, is the ongoing conclusion.

(4) The Anti-Ecto Acts are not an issue here! Team Phantom already dismantled and annihilated the GIW years before they even thought of leaving Amity Park on its own. Before graduating highschool even. Yes, Team Phantom is perfectly self-sufficient and able to handle their own problems and have kept the city-wide ghost infestation pretty isolated outside a few events that were handled quickly and with the world none the wiser. So the world is still pretty ignorant of the existence of ghosts/the Ghost Zone. Would Team Phantom and Amity Park prefer to keep it that way though?

[hwangism143]

off-limits

synopsis: hwang hyunjin was multiple things to you: incredible. god-like. everything. but most of all, he was off-limits. that is, until, you both are forced to share a room at a beach getaway. sounds perfectly romantic, right? except for your fear of the ocean and his recent break-up.

pairing: non-idol!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: best friends brother trope, one room trope, angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of death, nightmares, graphic description of nearly drowning, eating and food, slightly suggestive, near death experience

please do not read if any of these topics are triggering

word count: 15.4k words

playlist: box in the ocean - alessia cara, swimming pools - francis on my mind, mixtape: time out - stray kids

a/n: guys. my baby is here. this was requested by the wonderful @scarlet789 also, shout out to my bae avi (@stayinlimbo) for letting me scream in her dms. as usual, pls leave your comments and reblog!! they mean everything to me <3

"all these explosive emotions, i'm holding"

Hwang Hyunjin was multiple things to you. Beautiful, heavenly and ethereal were just a few words to describe him. Off-limits, however, was probably the best and most encompassing in this situation. He was your best friend Hyun-jee's brother, and a long time ago, you chose friendship over love.

Hyun-jee and her brother came from an extremely well off family. Hyun-jee's mother was a famous model while her father was the owner of one of the most popular media channels in South Korea. Unlike the stereotypical rich kid, however, Hyun-jee genuinely did want to inherit her father's business someday, eagerly waiting to take over as CEO after his retirement. For now though, she was content with just being the CFO of their overseas subsidiary.

Hyunjin however, was a bit of an enigma when it came to company legacy. Rebellious couldn't be the right word considering his parents never really minded about what he would become (they did have the extremely ambitious to the point of it being slightly terrifying younger daughter). Hyunjin was destined for greatness though. The entire Hwang family was. To your astonishment, even the family dog had his own fanpage.

Hyunjin had cemented himself in the art industry, having gone to a special arts high school and studied painting in Paris for a few years. His artwork sold in the millions, and their relevance was extremely pertinent to everyday life. A part of you marveled about how you even came to become friends with such extraordinary people when you were just the opposite of that, bland and normal.

You first met Hyun-jee in boarding school, you with a scholarship and starry eyes and Hyun-jee with her father's massive paycheck and worldly wisdom that rivaled that of the oldest ahjumma's. It was an international one, meaning that the medium of speaking was almost entirely English. You could have taken Korean as well, of course, but you opted for French instead. That was when you met Hyun-jee, the dorm arrangements being set according to the second language chosen.

Hyun-jee shone as bright as a star but she never made that cover your light. If anything, she amplified it to an incredible degree. Being friends with her wasn't slavery (as popularized by fiction), but instead it was earth-shaking, revolutionary and the most brilliant thing to happen.

Ah, fourteen year old minds.

But really, Hyun-jee was a friend you would always cherish, having been extremely close to her even after graduation. Every first day of school, you two would curl up in the couch of your common room and start telling each other all about your wild summers.

You knew, of course, about Hyun-jee's brother, but she rarely brought him up. He was a slightly sensitive topic in your friendship and you knew why. All you knew was that he liked painting and was a year older than Hyun-jee.

To be completely honest, not only were you Hyun-jee's best friend, you were also probably her first and only close friend. People had a tendency to get close with Hyun-jee just to take advantage of her family. Nine out of ten times, that was girls who wanted to date Hyunjin.

Hyun-jee loved you for being completely unaware about who she was until after you met her. Not being a South Korean native, you had no idea who the Hwang family was. The only member you did personally know was Hwang Hyun-jee, future CEO. Except to you, she was nearly a sister. She was the girl who snorted milk out of her nose while laughing, owned practically a shrine dedicated to Michael B. Jordan and had the most awful bed head. You saw a Hyun-jee that she only showed to two people in this world: you and Hyunjin.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

All that ambiguity was about Hyunjin was about to change however, that junior year of high school. It was the first day of school and you were waiting for Hyun-jee to be dropped off near the school gates. This time though, it wasn't her old driver but someone a lot younger pulling up to the school front.

Hyun-jee opened the door and practically flew into your arms, causing a giggle to arise from your mouths and the both of you slightly stumbling backwards. Behind her, you heard a throat clear.

"Your bags, miss?" came an overly exaggerated tone of what you assumed was a male.

"Oh, piss off Hyunjin," snapped Hyun-jee, straightening her school uniform and letting go of you. She quickly introduced you both to each other. Hyunjin offered his hand and, your brain must have been on autopilot because your hand smoothly grabbed his without a hitch.

Your mind, however, was a mess.

Hyunjin was absolutely gorgeous. You could tell why so many women (and some men) pined over him. His then blonde hair fell into his eyes and he had a literal, a literal twinkle in his eyes. You probably just imagined it, but when your hand grabbed his, you felt a shock coursing through (although in hindsight it was probably just static electricity). He was attractive, yes, but you wouldn't really call it a crush, per se. It was more of a 'hey. you're good looking.' type of situation, not a 'i have envisioned our entire future together pls marry me.' kind of situation.

That was, until, Hyun-jee invited you (well, more forced by her parents to invite you) to spend the summer before senior year at her family's ski resort.

Hyunjin made you feel like you were glowing, like you were the only person in the room. If Hyun-jee amplified your brightness, Hyunjin captured it, understanding you in a way nobody else did.

While Hyun-jee was off skiing and being athletic, you and Hyunjin spent hours locked in the library. Sometimes, you sat in silence. Other times, you talked about everything under the sun, from classical literature and Jane Austen to cat videos and singing to Taylor Swift.

Being a huge bookworm yourself, you adored the concerningly large labyrinth which they called a  library housed in their lodge. Hyunjin would paint on a chair with him and his easel facing you as you would lounge on the sofa, poring over yet another thick, hard bound novel. Then, you would pass that book to Hyunjin, who would also read it, giving you both a topic of conversation.

You were never bitter towards Hyun-jee for leaving you behind with Hyunjin while she took classes and taught classes at the local ice rink and snow hill. She always was better left outside than cooped up inside, unlike you and Hyunjin who were ambiverted to a fault and short-circuited if outdoors for too long.

In fact, you were thankful for it. If Hyun-jee hadn't been gone long enough for you and Hyunjin to have some time together, you never would have experienced falling in love with him. If that is what it was.

Your relationship never blossomed into something more than soft smiles and knowing glances, even the occasional (and never accidental, at least on your part) brush of fingers being constrained and a rare occurrence. Even though you weren't sure if Hyunjin had such feelings towards you, you both knew that there was a line you couldn't cross.

Still, your brain romanticized all of it. Being in love with you best friend's brother, secluded moments in a library... it really was turning into an 'i have found a wedding dress. get a ring. we are already mentally married.' cacophony of feelings. Paired with the snowy backdrop of the mountains and Hyunjin more often than not offering you his hoodie, you were, to put it mildly, in heaven.

"Hey, do you want to make hot chocolate or bake something? I'm not really getting inspiration to paint and..." Hyunjin just waved his arm around, trailing off and looking at you with hopeful eyes.

The lodge had a personal chef who could whip something up at just a sentence. He knew that. You knew that. You grinned at him, "Okay. Let's do it."

The two of you worked your way up to the private kitchen (the shock you felt and finding out they had two kitchens was so comical that Hyun-jee even recorded it). Baking with Hyunjin was terrifying. By the end of it, you had flour all over you, Hyunjin having icing on his cheek. The end result was delicious but very off-putting looking cupcakes.

While Hyunjin busied himself with cleaning, you swiped your thumb across the icing that had laid base on his face (conveniently missing the tissues practically staring at you).

Hyunjin turned his head to look at you in surprise, eyebrows scrunched and cheeks puffed. "I'm sorry," you stammered, "There was icing and-"

"No," he laughed, "It's not that. Your hands are really cold. I thought I was doing a good job of keeping you warm."

A small pout formed on his face as he motioned to take your hands. You obliged and he rubbed them for a bit, humming along to some pop song that was trending. As he was doing so, you nearly bore a hole into the floor with tour eyes, trying (and hopefully succeeding) in hiding the massive blush threatening to creep onto your face.

That night, Hyun-jee asked you nonchalantly, "Is something going on between you and my brother?"

While the question might have seemed like an innocent one, you knew the venom and pain behind it. Your thoughts were only confirmed by her usage of the terminology 'my brother', instead of just his name.

You were laying down on her bed, bile rising in your throat. Love or friendship? The thoughts in your head collided, crashing into each other like a tsunami. Hyun-jee had been there for you your entire time in Korea, caring for you like you were her own blood. Hyunjin had only known you for a few weeks but made you feel like the only girl in the world.

Your conflicting feelings towards both your situations gnawed and twisted at you like a thorn bush, scratchy weeds clawing at you and desperately awaiting respite. All it would take to get rid of that awful feeling would be one sentence of confirmation or otherwise.

Hyun-jee made eye contact with you through the mirror as she brushed her hair. "Well?" she prompted, slightly impatiently.

You rolled over onto your stomach, eyes locked onto hers. "Hm? Sorry I couldn't hear you. Nope, we're just friends, if you can even call it that." You shrugged at her and she shot you a grateful smile, eyes full of relief. Your stomach, on the other hand, was tangled up in knots that felt painfully similar to the knots that had wound their way into your heart.

Hyunjin didn't see you in the library again.

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The irony of your situation, looking back was, well... ironic. Of the three months that you spent with the Hwang family, half of it went in trying to spend as much time with Hyunjin as possible and the other half went in avoiding him at all costs.

You were never a hopeless romantic, not really. You knew what love practically looked like, and that it wasn't perfect. If it was, then the phrase wouldn't be something as harsh as falling in love, would it? However, one thing that you constantly chided yourself about was the importance of first love.

You placed first love on a pedestal higher than anything else. You were extremely meticulous about it though. You were frighteningly determined to experience the most perfect first love one ever could, tailored to your desires. Falling in love with Hyunjin, however, was not part of the plan.

Falling in love with Hyunjin was like breathing. It came so naturally, as if it was always there but couldn't be shaken off as soon as you noticed it. It felt inevitable, it felt like life was giving you another reason to live in the form of a soft-spoken artistic boy who had a penchant for dyeing his hair.

It was so extremely easy too. How could it not be? The way his eyes crinkled in the sides when he smiled and high pitched laugh were sensations that you would pay anything to relive. The way his eyes never left you when you passionately (and sometimes violently) gesticulated about your favorite books, the way he somehow understood what you were communicating his way even without you verbalizing it, made you realize that no one had ever quite made you feel this way.

'This way', being, feeling excited at just the mere thought at knowing that you were inhaling the same air as them. Small firecrackers igniting in your stomach at just the thought of seeing them. Feeling like you would simultaneously combust and drown if you couldn't be with them.

You often lied to yourself though. No, it wasn't love. Just a passing crush, was your mantra, repeated over and over again in your head until you almost believed it. Almost. A passing crush wouldn't entail not being able to concentrate on anything apart from Hyunjin when he was in front of you. A passing crush wouldn't cause you to look at him when he thought you weren't, in an attempt to memorize his features, capture every moment and seal it in an imaginary locket.

The reason why you made yourself think these thoughts were because you were unraveling. The realization that your first love did not love you back, not even a little bit (or so you thought) crashed down all your ideals about romance. The you that existed back then was positive that you would never, ever, love again. If the person you had first fallen in love with couldn't fall in love with you, then how could anyone else?

Of course, compared to your life now, such issues felt trivial. Right? Then why did you still have such a hard time forming romantic attachments? Why was your self-esteem when it came to be loved was in the gallows, rotting in the negatives?

It wasn't Hyunjin's fault, it never was in your head. It was the causation and effect of your own fucked up idolization of falling in love for the first time. You had so profoundly accepted the notion of first love being unforgettable that you only assumed it to be positive, not even thinking about how you would grapple with the situation if it were negative.

Maybe if you did, you would learn and grow from every failed romance that you would have, all up until you found 'the one', even if it was just for that moment. But you didn't. Instead, you had grown such a clawing and deafening fear of rejection that you refused to fall in love at all.

Somedays, the loneliness would get to you. The day Hyun-jee announced to you that she officially had a girlfriend, you were happy, immensely so, but a part of you just... broke. Going to parties and dinners and even just staying in with your friends meant that you had to witness all the small things about love that you would never experience.

Your friends and their significant others were never obvious around you. They weren't constantly touching each other and making comments about their undying love for each other. But even those tiny actions, the little aspects, didn't go unnoticed by you.

The small smile of affection on one's face at anything the other did, an entire conversation passing through just a glance, the featherweight touches that probably had a heavier meaning that you would ever know - all of this was just something you could vicariously experience through the people in love all around you.

Maybe, if you weren't such a coward, you would be in love right now too, instead of wallowing in despair and the trenches of missing out.

On the last day of your stay at the Hwang lodge, you went to the library to see Hyunjin one last time. For seeking some sort of closure? Probably. For seeing Hyunjin one last time and committing his features and mannerisms, anything and everything that made up him to memory? Definitely.

You had pushed the doors open softly, letting out a shaky breath and attempting to still your restless legs. Hyunjin was hard at work behind a large canvas, propped up on a wooden easel. His arm furiously brushed against the canvas, angry strokes slapping against the medium of artwork.

He didn't notice you, continuing his work, until you cleared your throat. "Hi," you said uncertainly. Hyunjin looked at you in perplexation, like a deer caught in headlights. Quickly turning around his easel and regaining his composure, he motioned for you to take a seat on the couch.

You took him in, the light streaming in from the large window bathing him in cold sunlight that glinted off the snow. He looked like he wasn't human. It hit you, the absurdity of it all. If there was one word you would use to describe Hwang Hyunjin, it would be human.

He captured humanity within him in the sweetest form possible. He wasn't the blueprint, not by any means; he could be petty, overly dramatic and had a bit of a temper. But he was kind-hearted, constantly curious and overwhelmingly empathetic. He was so perfectly imperfect that it was incredible to you how someone like him could be a product of society as cruel as this.

"I leave in a few weeks," he said almost ponderingly, breaking a silence that hung between the two of you that was, for the first time, uncomfortable.

"If you want, I can get you something," he enunciated. You knew there were several unsaid words on his end; there were some on yours as well. But you had almost no indication about what they could possibly be, and were itching to know what they were.

"We can't- we can't be friends," you blurted out.

Hyunjin's expression was one of expectation. So he knew this was coming. He sat down next to you and let out a resounding sigh.

"I know. I'll send you something from Paris anyways," he lightly responded, attempting to liven up the mood. You just raised a shoulder and the two of you sat there for what felt like hours. Finally, you got up and made your way to the door. But before that, you stopped.

"Do you mind if I see what you were painting?"

Hesitantly, Hyunjin turned the easel around. You were met with absolutely nothing, just splashes of water all over the canvas.

"Artist's block," he said matter-of-factly.

You nodded as if you understood, even though you didn't and walked out the door with a, "Thank you. I'm sorry."

Head hung in shame, you took a step outside. You were about to step out when a voice called out to you, "It was nice, to pretend. Even if it was just for a while."

You turned to give him a wry smile, "Thank you for making summer fun for me."

He would understand what you told him. You knew he would. But that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. That was the last time you had ever physically seen Hwang Hyunjin, ever spoken to him.

He never sent you anything from Paris.

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While you wished that your relationship with Hyunjin would be one for the romcoms, your relationship with Hyun-jee was definitely one for the situational comedies. The rich girl becoming best friends with the new scholarship student? Cable TV viewer gold.

If you were being completely honest, the first time you met Hyun-jee you did find her a little bit stuck up. The two of you had to end up being friends though. Studying the same language, French, meant that she was your roommate for the four years you would spend at that high school (unbeknown to you then, she would spend another five years as your roommate in university).

Seeing Hyun-jee walk into the dorm room, decked in designer clothes and lugging a large suitcase behind her, was enough to demolish your self-confidence. The sight made you feel extremely self-conscious about your jeans, which were sporting gravy stains, and the mud brown sweater vest which your mother simply insisted you must buy.

All your fear disappeared, however, when one of Hyun-jee's heels (Dior!) caught on the edge of the living room carpet. She collapsed onto it, placing her palms face down to avoid hitting her face. She looked up at you.

"Hi, I'm Hyun-jee. I would shake your hand, but this is the unfortunate circumstance of letting my mother style me for the first day of school."

You laughed and offered her your hand and she held onto it, steadying to her feet. You gave her your name and a once-over to make sure she wasn't hurt. Then when you finally looked into her eyes, the two of you burst into laughter over the farcical situation that had just taken place. You both were wheezing by the end of your solid ten minute fit of laughter, laying on the couch in contorted positions and trying to catch your breath. Her eye caught yours, just setting of another bout of giggles.

You two had been inseparable ever since.

Hyun-jee wasn't as perfect as she was made out to be, and she had no shame in it. If she had the choice, she would go everywhere in her pajamas. She was horrible at Math and made fun of the World History teacher you both shared, convinced he was a Freemason. Hyun-jee was as human as one could get.

Even her parents were quite natural around you, or at least the cookies her mother sent everywhere which she and Hyun-jee baked made it seem that way. Hyun-jee was always sensitive when it came to the topic of her family. She skirted around it when it was a topic of conversation as if it was poison.

It wasn't that she had a bad relationship with them; she adored her family. She just seemed extremely uncomfortable about the topic, so you never really pried, instead regaling her with stories about your two younger sisters, parents and lineage of goldfish with abnormally high mortality rates.

There was moment in your life when you understood the gravity of just how alone people like Hyun-jee was in this world. You had noticed, that despite being extremely well-known and friendly with everyone, Hyun-jee could only call you her friend. On the other hand, you weren't at all as well known as Hyun-jee but had multiple friends.

That moment was at this end of the year party your academy was hosting to celebrate the end of exams. The upperclassmen were planning to go to another location, without teachers for an afterparty, but you had convinced Hyun-jee against attending it. She always had been the risk taker in your friendship.

You were walking around, checking off your social pleasantries. Light shone in the big auditorium and you swished around your floral flock. You caught Hyun-jee rejecting yet another poor guy (too bad he didn't know she was gay), and laughed a little to yourself. Even at fourteen, Hyun-jee had model-like looks. Probably because she inherited them.

You were lost in the moment of it all, entranced by the fact that you were even standing here. Coming to this prestigious international academy was your dream. It would kickstart your scientific career, which, back then, only revolved around discovering something incredible and winning a Nobel Peace Prize.

You came from an extremely mundane family. Middle class, living in a different country in a three bedroom apartment. Both of your parents worked in software engineering, and while you loved them for it, you couldn't help but find it slightly boring. You wanted to do something great, be someone great.

Hyun-jee must have walked over to you at some point in time when you hadn't noticed, because she laced her arms through the crook of your elbow and asked, "What's got you so concentrated, wife?"

Hyun-jee had a habit of jokingly calling you her wife, which you always entertained because why not? She had made it extremely clear that she would never date you, despite being romantically interested in women. "Eh, too nerdy," was her response when you asked why. She wasn't wrong though; if it wasn't for your 'nerdiness', you wouldn't be where you were.

You just shrugged in response to her question and turned to give her a smile. The expression you were met with gave you a bit of a surprise. For once in her life, Hwang Hyun-jee looked serious about something. Her normally mischievous eyes were now set in an unreadable expression.

"What is it?" you asked as the two of you headed to the buffet. Hyun-jee grabbed two plates, one for you and one for her, and proceeded to put a little bit of everything in her plate onto yours, despite you already having taken a lot.

She didn't give you a reply, instead opting to walk towards the table where you two had laid claim. You towed behind obediently, sitting down with a satisfied 'ah!' after having been standing for over an hour. You were digging into your food, relishing the taste of school food that was good for once (okay, that was a lie; your school actually gave you good food but that was only justified considering the insane costs).

"I was trying to figure out a way to say this but..." Hyun-jee's voice faltered.

Your glanced at her, finally looking up from your plate after eating like a starved, ravenous beast. Your eyes slightly widened. Did she not want to be friends with you anymore?

Hyun-jee took a visibly deep breath, "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you for being my friend. I have never really had anyone to call my own. If anybody ever got close to me, it was just to take advantage of me or use me to gain access to my family. Especially when it comes to my brother that I mentioned, remember? Hyunjin. Guys aren't friends with me because they're intimidated by him and girls only become friends with me because they want to date him. All my life I have felt like nothing more than a porcelain doll, only valuable because I held the title of being a Hwang daughter. I was labelled before I was even born, I have had to wear that label, written all over myself with fake pride, even though it sickens me. That was until I met you though. As Disney cliché as it sounds, you not knowing anything about my family and treating me like a normal person has really made me feel seen this past couple of months. Thank you, Y/N, for being my friend. A real one."

Tears began streaming down your face and streaming down her face. Paired with the emotional word vomit that Hyun-jee had just placed before you and both of you being on your menstrual cycles, this was kind of bound to happen.

You reached over to give her hand a squeeze. You were unable to say anything, partly because you were choked up with emotion and mostly because you had stuffed an entire slice of chocolate cake into your mouth while Hyun-jee was in the middle of her monologue.

That was the day that you made sure to make Hyun-jee never feel used, and that started with keeping her family at a seven-foot man's arm's length.

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seven months before.

Needless to say, your friendship with Hyun-jee wasn't always perfect. One topic that often came up during arguments was stepping out of the house. Hyun-jee was naturally more extroverted whereas you preferred the comfort of your home.

You both came up with a plan to alternatively go out and stay in while you both were roommates in college and this practice continued well after Hyun-jee had graduated.

Hyun-jee had dragged you to this upper class, high profile party as her plus one. Her girlfriend was at her parents' home and Hyun-jee simply 'could not go alone or would combust'. Regret at deciding to attend university in Korea was palpable in you (but no where else would you get delicious kimchi).

Beads of sweat clung to your forehead as you surveyed your surroundings. The party was filled with almost-drunk socialites, foreshadowing business deals and gossiping with each other. You rarely attended such events with Hyun-jee; this was her circle, not yours. You always overthought every little interaction that you had with one of them, turning it over in your head millions of times.

Even at such an event taking place at a simple rooftop resto-bar, you spotted the occasional man wearing an entire three piece set and woman rocking an evening gown. You had confirmed with Hyun-jee about what the dress code was multiple times leading up to the event, not ready to lose face in front of such prestigious people. She kept reassuring you that it was 'casual'. Clearly, the upper class' definition of casual and yours were worlds apart.

You were wearing a black, tight crop top, white skirt and white jacket that was currently below your shoulders and in caught in the crook of your elbows. You had already fended off quite a few men approaching you with a look in their eyes which made you quite uncomfortable. Having excused yourself uncountable times using numerous excuses (you had to put use to the skills that you had picked up on as an ambivert), you decided to step out onto the open area to catch some fresh air.

You glanced at the cup in your hand, not knowing where it came from. It definitely looked alcohol though, and you sent a small glare towards the cup while you set it on the first surface that you could fine. You drank sometimes, but today you opted against it. You were going to be driving yourself home and knew that Hyun-jee was going to be wasted, having lost her a few minutes after entering the premises. 

You knew that Hyunjin was there too, and were uneasy at the prospect of seeing him again. After the ski lodge, you never really met him again. He had taken you phone number once while he dropped of you and Hyun-jee snowboarding while you were there at their lodge. You both rarely texted, never going beyond the cordial 'happy birthday's' and exchanging wishes during various holidays. He never questioned why you stopped coming to the library, just giving you an understanding nod when you linked arms with Hyun-jee and looked at him with guilt evident in you eyes.

Deciding to ditch whatever the hell this glorified adult frat party, you made your way to the front door when you caught sight of Hyunjin. He sat near the door, scrolling on his phone. He seemed as uninterested to be here as you were. His hair was black now, slightly wavy at the end. You knew that; of course you knew. You followed him on social media and witnessed his hair evolution, praying for his scalp while you did so.

"Hi Hyunjin," you said hesitantly. Hyunjin glanced at you, surprise evident in his face while his eyes scanned yours, "I was just about to head out. I thought I'd stop by and say hello."

"Oh, you're leaving?" he questioned in a tone of confusion laced with something else. Recognition, maybe. "Call me when you get home, so I know you're safe."

He must have noticed you expression of apprehension, because he quickly added, "So I can let Hyun-jee know when we drive home of course. I think she mentioned that we're driving to our parents house tonight."

You aren't shocked by his request, knowing how protective (and worried to death) he can be, but were taken aback at the fact that he did not want nothing to do with you. "I actually wasn't planning on going home," you told him.

At that, it was Hyunjin's turn to wear an expression of surprise. You drank in his features as you noticed the gears twisting in his head. He was thinking hard about something. Deciding that this was his way of dismissing you, you headed towards the door that led to the stairwell that would take you downstairs. Abruptly appearing beside you was Hyunjin, giving you a small tap on your shoulder.

He offered you a small smile. "Mind if I join you?"

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Hyunjin was probably at that party because of his presence in the art world. Something about his art always spoke to you, in ways the no other piece of media ever did. You always proudly reminisced about how Hyunjin showed you artwork that summer that he hadn't ever shown anyone else.

His artwork was capable of moving someone without words. You could nearly feel the emotion pouring out of him and onto his canvas. It was like his paintbrush was just an extension of himself. Everything, from the colours he used to the angle of his brushstrokes were calculated measures, all joining in the most radiant harmony of pure artwork.

After a small discussion of where to go, you both decided that it would be best to catch some fresh air and then proceed to go your separate ways. You both walked a little ways down to an old park.

You were still processing the entire situation, marveling at how on earth you managed to keep your cool the entire walk here. You both didn't say a word while on your way to the park, walking in silence. Hyunjin had his hands jammed into his pockets while you played with the strings of your jacket, curling them in and out.

That was when Hyunjin spotted a playset, smack dab in the middle of the aforementioned park.

"Come on," he squealed excitedly, "Let's go on the swing set."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter. No 'hi' or 'how is life', but suggesting swing set antics instead? Gosh, he was so endearing. You both didn't really talk much, just exchanged giggles as you swung as high up as possible. Finally, after around ten minutes of swinging and one rendition of 'I Believe I Can Fly,' you both finally came down.

A part of you still loved him, didn't it?

It was dark, but you didn't really care. You were with Hyunjin and the area was known to be one of the safer, more-family centric parts of the city you lived in. You sat on the grass, knees brought up to your chest. Your arms wrapped around them while you closed your eyes, a small breeze whipping around you. It was strong enough to keep you cool yet gentle enough to not cause your hair to be similar in nature to that of a tornado.

Hyunjin observed you silently, leaning back on the grass with the help of his forearms. His legs were sprawled in front of him and he broke the silence with a casual, "How's life?"

You suppressed the urge to burst out into laughter. Imagine being asked by one of the hottest men you had ever seen, and had objectively been in love with for the longest, ask you 'how's life'. Adding to that, he was asking you the said question after suggesting that you both swing on a swing set.

"Fine, I guess. I'll be submitting my thesis, hopefully by the end of summer and then receive my doctorate," you replied, ignoring the rapid thumping in your chest.

You were not going to be held captive by a high school crush. You were so much better than that. You hadn't physically seen Hyunjin is over five years. He could have changed completely for all you knew. He could have had a girlfriend (which Hyun-jee would have told you about if that was the case, but you never know), maybe even a wife. And yet, that familiar feeling of wanting curled through your bones, engulfing you.

The two of you started talking about your lives, him as a painter and you as a final year PhD student.

"Hmm," he hummed in contemplation to something you had said, "You know, I always liked your company more then Hyun-jee's. Don't tell her though." He had mischievous look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips, eliciting a laugh from within you and bringing back a memory you had forgotten.

You were still slightly awed by the fact that the Hwang Hyun-jee invited you to spend summer with her. At a ski lodge. A fricking ski lodge! The shocking revelation that you could be considered cool enough to hang out with her and her brother were the thoughts in your head as you stared at the copy of Emma in your hands, pretending to read the text.

Beside you, you could hear the steady scratching of pencil against paper, interrupted only by the symphony of an eraser rubbing against the sheet. This little orchestra playing next to you was evidence of Hyunjin's existence, an art in itself if anyone asked you.

"You should teach me French," he asks you out of the blue, "For when if leave to go to Paris."

You look at him inquisitively. He told you that he got accepted into art school in Paris a few days ago. You did feel sad about the fact that he was going, but deep down you knew very well that practically, after this summer your interactions with Hyunjin would be few and far in between.

"You have Hyun-jee, she can teach you. If, that is, you can put up with her," you retort teasingly.

Hyunjin gives you a sly smirk, "That's exactly why I was asking you. I think I'll like your style of teaching better. And so, I want you to please, please, please teach me French."

You had no idea where this sudden newfound confidence to flirt with Hyunjin had bloomed within you but, oh well, you only live once. "Do you want me teaching you, or just me in general?"

"Ah," he said shaking his head regretfully with a smile, "Even though you have only known me for a few weeks, you already know me too well."

Butterflies ignite in your stomach, although you're pretty sure he was just playing along with you. You wonder what he's sketching, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes set in concentration. Even though you have a feeling it isn't, you sincerely hope it's you.

You don't know that your hopeful assumption was true.

A tightening in you chest starts to grow when the topic shifts to love. Earlier, talking to Hyunjin about love used to come as easy walking on your two feet. Now, it just hurts. He asked you if you were seeing someone. You promptly replied in the negative. You asked him if he was seeing someone. He reflected your answer back onto you.

But what did it really mean? You were always going to be bound in this life by that unspoken oath you made to Hyun-jee all those years ago. It wasn't even about love anymore, it was about not breaking another person's trust, a person who you held closer to your heart than most of your family.

You started thinking though. What was the point of hiding your feelings, old or not, from Hyunjin any longer? It wasn't like you could act on it, but you may as well have told him. Maybe then a huge weight from your chest would be released and you wouldn't be shackled by commitments, things you felt you owed to both of them.

"I don't think you know this but," your expression suddenly changed, "I used to have the biggest crush on you that summer."

"Used to?" At this point, Hyunjin is sitting up straight, eyeing you curiously. You roll your eyes and give him a playful slap on his arm. His expression, however, turns into one of regret. You begin to feel remorseful about telling him, paranoia settling in and molding itself into the fabric of who you were.

"That's a shame," he says quietly.

The air changes, charged with something you can't quite place. Hyunjin holds eye contact with you, unsaid words coursing through them. You never really believed in the phrase 'the eye is the window to the soul', but right now, you were terrified of whatever the hell your eyes were revealing to him right now. Hyunjin then proceeds to utter something, something so capable of infusing you with poisoned hope, that it takes your breath away.

"I think I would have loved loving you."

Time has stopped. Feelings of desperation, annihilation and most importantly, temptation, cascade in a whirlpool inside you. It had been years. This was wrong. This was the universe dangling temptation in front of you, urging you to just take a bite. Rebelliously, you wondered, what if you were selfish for one? Why were you feeling this way now?

"I think I would have loved being loved by you," you whisper back. Hyunjin's hand laces through yours and gives it a little squeeze in response.

That is when it dawns on you that Hyunjin is as confined in this matter as you, if not more. Hyun-jee is his sister for God's sake; whatever guilt you felt in wanting him, he must have felt tenfold in wanting you. You know exactly what the little squeeze he gave you signifies: It will pass. If it cannot be, it will cease.

And you know it's true because you and Hyunjin can never be 'us' or 'we' as long as you were present in this reality. You wished there was a universe somewhere, a parallel reality when Hyunjin and you were considered of one breath because to breath you would need him like oxygen.

Judging by his expression, he must have been drifting in thought about that too.

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Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic. Everyone he knew was painfully aware of that. He romanticized love in all it's aspects and yearned for it like a prerequisite for living. His standards were obnoxiously high though, and he had never met anyone even close to reaching them.

The thing was, Hyunjin didn't have high standards when it came to a romantic partner. He had high standards in what to expect during a relationship with said partner. Having never been in love himself, he could only witness it through other's experiences.

Until he had met you.

The first time he had seen you, you seemed unremarkable. Not in a rude way, of course, it was just that nothing about you really stood out to him that way. Hyunjin was a firm advocate of 'love at first sight' not being a logical concept. How on earth could you love someone without intertwining the fibers of being that made you with the strands of life that made them?

But then, when you walked into their hauntingly large ski lodge, your face full of wonder, Hyunjin felt an overwhelming calling of entrapping that moment forever. Your expression was so pure that is caught him off guard. He forgot what it was like to see some genuinely enjoy something. That night, he was sitting on his bed sketching something without any clear intention. The end result bore an uncanny resemblance to you.

Soon enough, the two of you began to spend exponentially increasing amounts of time together. Hyunjin was quite introverted, which was in stark contrast to the rest of his family. His mother used to also like spending her time in a lot, but nearly twenty five years of marriage to his father had definitely worn off on her.

The first time you stumbled into the library, you had audibly gasped. Hyunjin peered up, only his eyes visible, the rest of his face covered by the easel. When he saw that it was you, a small smile broke across his face and he sent you a wave, striking up a conversation with you and inviting you to sit down with him.

Hyunjin even knew exactly when realized that he had fallen in love with you. It was around a month into your three month stay with them. You were on the couch, laying down on your belly and Hyunjin was on a bean bag, munching on popcorn. You had a blanket covering you and a book in your hand, but your eyes stayed on Hyunjin as you both talked.

"I have a question," asked Hyunjin in between his mouthful of popcorn.

You rolled over into a position of sitting, legs crossed underneath you. "Before you ask, my interpretation of the meaning of life is pining for Michael B. Jordan against all odds. Blame Hyun-jee for forcing his movies down my throat and coming to me about her daily rants about how he is the only exception to her sexuality and how she would elope with him in a heartbeat."

Hyunjin shook his head with a laugh and passed you the bowl of popcorn. Having been on the receiving end of the conversation one too many times himself, he could quote Michael B. Jordan's monologue from Black Panther nearly perfectly.

"What I actually wanted to ask was whether or not you're happy with what you plan on studying in the future," Hyunjin asked curiously. You always avoided the topic of this, reiterating your love for Science time and again but always talking about how you planned on taking an English course on the side while in university.

At his question, your face fell a little bit. "Oh, well," you said sadly, "Truthfully, not really. But it's what my parents want me to do. I figured that if I did what they wanted me to do, then my sisters could be given a little more freedom at what they wanted to do."

Hyunjin's lips slightly parted, turning over your words in his head. Your selflessness really hit home, especially when he was so extremely selfish. He suddenly felt like he didn't belong to even be in your presence, and yet cherished it nonetheless.

"I have always been so adamant about becoming an artist that I never thought that it could lead to Hyun-jee potentially thinking that she doesn't have an option other than taking over the company," fell Hyunjin's confession from his lips. His eyes swirled with shame.

"If I'm being honest, she might have felt that way initially, but she truly loves the business Hyunjin," you told him comfortingly.

"You're a good person," he whispered to you softly.

"I'm not," you laughed condescendingly, "I'm really not."

Hyunjin's heart broke when those words flew out of your mouth. He wished he saw yourself at the standard that he did. But his heart pieced back together when he realized that he loved you. The realization dawned upon him when it hit him that your laugh, in no matter which context, seemed to lull him like a siren's call and draw him towards.

Later that day, Hyunjin called up seven of his closest friends to lament about his unfortunate predicament. He had all the textbook symptoms: gazing at you when you didn't notice, making up excuses just to be close to you and turning a fire hydrant reminiscent shade or red whenever he was near you (to the point where you would often end enquiring about his health).

"You are down bad in love," declared Changbin over the phone. Hyunjin decided against telling him that he had self-diagnosed himself before seeking anyone else's consul.

Hyunjin wasn't blind either though. He knew you felt something towards and although he couldn't quite pinpoint whether is bordered on love or like, he was quite content with simply knowing. It was extremely evident to him, in the way you began stuttering when he started flirting with you and the blush that would creep up your neck (albeit less pathetically obvious as his) when his fingers would accidentally or otherwise brush against yours.

He knew though, that blushes and wandering eyes was all your relationship ever could be.

He loved you, but by extension he loved his sister more. The night she came home to him, eyes puffy from crying and making him swear that he would never date one of her friends in the occasion that she ever did make a real one.

In that moment, Hyunjin made an oath encased in salty tears and bruised emotions that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

When you stopped coming to the library to squander away your time with Hyunjin, he knew he should have expected it. If you hadn't initiated the distance, then he would have been the one to do so, knowing it to be imperative when Hyun-jee questioned him on the nature of the both of yours's relationship.

He couldn't create anything, however. It was like your presence was what gave him the patience and creativity to actually go through with fishing a piece of art. He was frightened to death at the prospect of never being able to make something again if you weren't there.

Slowly, he realized that that wasn't actually the case. He could still paint, still draw, because he found love and emotions in so many other places.

Hyunjin found love in the way dewdrops beaded flowers, he found love in the cobblestoned alleyways of Paris and in the steaming mug of Americano he would drink every morning. He came to understand that he could pull inspiration from any love, romantic or otherwise.

But all of them paled in comparison to the love he held for you.

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five months before.

You were lounging in Hyun-jee and her girlfriend, Reina's apartment, which was practically your second home. The three of you went to the same university, one of the most prestigious in Seoul, and were quite a formidable trio. Hyun-jee was studying in business school, you were studying bio-chemistry and Reina was a lawyer in the making.

People had a tendency to stay away from the three of you.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor of their apartment, back resting against the leather couch. Reina was in the shower and Hyun-jee scrolled on her phone. You gazed at the blank wall, completely zoning out from reality.

"Oh," Hyun-jee said with a small smirk, "Hyunjin is coming over."

You tried to hide your surprise and anticipation. Excitement brewed a sickly solution within you as Hyun-jee caught your eye and sent a wink your way, signaling that she would be teasing her brother mercilessly upon his arrival.

Her grin faltered, however, when she her eyes went to her screen which lit up with yet another text message, presumably from Hyunjin.

"Oh. He's bringing a girl."

At that, you jerked your head up to Hyun-jee's, leaving your task of picking at your nails behind. She just gave you a shrug, indicating that she had no idea about any of this either. You studied Hyun-jee's reaction to this carefully. If anything she seemed unfazed.

Jealousy and anger pooled within you. You wished that it was you who Hyunjin was bringing, which was absolutely absurd because you were already in Hyun-jee's apartment. The girl he was bringing would probably be beautiful. At least, far more than you.

In the events that followed leading up to Hyunjin's arrival, you were halfway here and halfway not. Reina had come out of the shower, Hyun-jee had ordered some food, Reina had put on a movie, Hyun-jee had given her a kiss; everything happened around you presently, but you yourself weren't present.

Oh. He's bringing a girl.

You resorted to biting your lip anxiously, drawing blood even. Ah well. Small problems compared to the things people have to face all over the world on the daily. But it should have been duly noted that your small problems felt gigantic to you.

Sighing and attempting to kill time, you decided to be extremely unproductive and watch a romcom. They really did help make up for the lack of romance in your life (as if). Eventually, however, you got bored and instead switched your screen to watch a zombie movie.

You were sitting on one of the three barstools that lined the marble island countertop. Your hands were propped up on your elbows and you had managed to precariously balance your phone against a jar of strawberry jam.

You heard the doorbell ring amidst the screams coming from your earphones. Quickly stuffing away your phone in your pocket in the name of courtesy, you cupped your chin with your hand.

Reina went to open the door and in waltzed Hyunjin in all his glory followed by, yep, only the most drop dead gorgeous woman you had ever seen.

He quickly made introductions, introducing her as Ellie. You avoided Hyunjin's eyes like the plague as you offered her a smile that you hoped looked genuine because it most certainly was not.

Ellie was extremely sweet. She even brought cookies. Ellie laughed and smiled and made herself feel comfortable. You laughed and smiled and contemplated what life would be like in jail if you committed murder.

You couldn't help it. Jealousy came to you in waves inhibiting your sense of everything and clouding your judgement. You hoped the scowl on your face wasn't obvious as you offered to go bring plates for the pizza in an attempt to excuse yourself from the conversation taking place.

"Oppa," nudged Hyun-jee, "Go help her."

Hyunjin stood up and approached you the way one approached a hungry tiger. His smile was warm and inviting but his eyes reflected well deserved caution. He attempted at making conversation with you but you only answered with nods and hums.

Eventually, he just gave up and sat on a bar stool sprinkling seasoning over the freshly delivered pizza. "I'm surprised you got your girlfriend here," you broke the silence, the snark in your voice painfully audible.

"Why?" Hyunjin's eyes trailed up from his tedious task and surveyed you carefully.

"Well, after our conversation that night..."

Irritation flashed in Hyunjin's eyes. "Not all of us can pine over someone we know we can never be with," he huffed.

You blinked for a second, something suspiciously wet prickling the depths of your eyes. What? To him, this might have been just a casual passing comment. To you, this was venom, seeping into your heart and poisoning it.

"Maybe if I didn't have unreasonably high standards of love, I would be better at holding onto it," you rebutted harshly without even thinking about the consequences of what you had said.

Hyunjin's face wore the undeniable expression of shock. In the heat of the moment, you felt almost angry at him. How could he say something so cruel and not expect you to give a befitting reply in return?

Then, the effect of your entire conversation weighed upon you. Gasping at your insolence, you turned around and felt a drop of water slide down the side of your cheek. You wondered if Hyunjin's eyes became a catchment area for tears the way yours did, pushing violently to be let out in a torrent.

Afterwards, you barely spoke to anyone. Quickly eating a slice of the unfortunately delicious pizza, you cited sickness as a reason to not be a present of the lovely and suicidal thought inducing situation you were stuck in.

Making a mental note to ask Hyun-jee where she ordered the pizza from, you headed home, thinking and over thinking your conversation with Hyunjin. The entire scene replayed in your head multiple times but one thought was annoyingly persistent: You went from loving Hyunjin, to somewhat professing said love for him, to giving him very, very good reason to despise you.

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the day of.

Hyun-jee was finally turning a year older and after spending her last six birthdays in the comfort of only you and Reina, this year she was planning a lavish one week beach getaway. All her closest friends were coming which honestly wasn't a lot: just you, Hyunjin, Reina and one of Hyun-jee's cousin's and her boyfriend.

You hoped that tensions would be alleviated between you and Hyunjin considering that you both hadn't communicated a word to each other since the mini argument you both had five months ago. Surprisingly enough, Hyunjin broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago, after only a short two months of dating.

You gulped in fear at the thought of you and Hyunjin being the only single people on the trip. Mustering up courage nonetheless, you sat in the taxi that was taking you on the way to the resort lobby where you would meet the others.

Sitting in the car, you decided to try and get some more writing for dissertation done. You already had all your research and citations compiled; all you had to do was type it all up and submit it. Hell, you even had your thoughts in order, but every time you opened up that blank document and watched the cursor blinking at you, all your motivation vanished into thin air.

Not wanting to put yourself through any more torture, you decided to open up your phone and scroll aimlessly through social media. The thought of a beach getaway excited you. After working to death's end for the last few months, you knew you had earned a well deserved break.

When the taxi pulled up to the resort, you got out and closed your eyes at the salty breeze that hit your face. You didn't care that the wind blowing around did not, in fact, make your hair look like it was in a shampoo commercial and instead made it look like the individual strands were having a seizure. The cool air was a welcome contrast to the stuffy interior of the airplane and subsequent taxi you had taken to get here.

You walked into the large reception lobby, trying not to gasp at the sight in front of you. Large potted plants lined the walkway with a humongous fountain of an angel in the middle. Golf carts whizzed around you and servers carrying bottles of champagne and rose offered you kind smiles.

Noticing that Hyun-jee and the other's had just arrived then, you raced up to her, lugging your suitcase behind you. Hyun-jee face lit up as soon as she saw you. Throwing her hands around your neck and pulling you in for a hug, the two of you giggled after she stumbled on a stray pebble. Giving everyone else a warm grins and nods, your eyes met Hyunjin and he offered you a tight smile in acknowledgement.

This was going to be a long week.

Hyun-jee walked up to the receptionist to ask for all of yours's rooms. While she was busy with that, you took out your phone and clicked pictures of everything. You never really posted pictures like these (or any in general), rarely ever active on sites like Instagram unless the occasion called for obsessive internet stalking (which you were questionably amazing at). Instead, you sent all these pictures to your sisters, mostly to make them feel jealous because that was a very older sibling-like thing to do.

Snorting at your youngest sister's almost instantaneous response, which was a string of emojis containing mostly eye-roll emojis, you didn't notice Hyun-jee walk back to the group. You noticed the worried expression on her face, taking in her knitted eyebrows. She had been spending a lot of time sorting out the reservation with the receptionist.

"Guys, I'm really sorry but turns out I forgot to reserve the rooms and I'm so sorry and-"

"Breathe, Hyun-jee," Hyunjin cut her off and placed his hand on her right shoulder.

Hyun-jee took a deep breath, the guilt simmering in her eyes. She sneaked a quick glance at you for reassurance and you notedly obliged, shooting her a thumbs up.

Hyun-jee was nothing short of a perfectionist. Lately, she had been spending literal days at her office, wrapping up an important business deal. Always having everything planned, always knowing the exact details of everything was something she prided herself on.

"So- so here's the thing. I have booked three rooms right now which are on the same floor. Two of them have one bedroom and the third-" Hyun-jee slowly glanced at you and Hyunjin, "And the third is one room but with two beds."

Oh, so then you would still be able to stay here. Perfect. Oh. You would have to share a room with Hyunjin.

Hyun-jee looked at the both of you nervously, gauging your reactions. You hadn't told her about your petty little conversation with Hyunjin and assumed that he hadn't either. His eyes widened with shock and met yours, but a wave of understanding passed through the both of you: you would tolerate it because it was Hyun-jee's birthday and she was the priority here.

"Is that okay?" Hyun-jee stuttered softly.

Reina had walked over to Hyun-jee and wrapped her arms around her waist. Hyun-jee's cousin, Byeol, assured her that the arrangement was just fine.

Not wanting to worry Hyun-jee further, Hyunjin hastily replied, "Yes, yes, of course."

You spared him a glance before your eyes went to Hyun-jee's once again, and with a smile you hoped did not look stressed, you added on, "Yep. I mean, it's just a week, isn't it?"

Hyun-jee let out a sigh of relief and reached out to give your hand a squeeze. Absentmindedly, you gave her a distracted smile. Your mind was on other things, Hwang Hyunjin and the prospect of sharing a room with him at the forefront of your long train of thought.

It would be fine, right? After all, there were two beds. And as absurd as the entire situation was, you had read enough romcoms and watched enough Hallmark movies to know that the real problems only began when there was just one bed. Which there wasn't. Unfortunately.

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Hyunjin had graciously offered you to take a shower first. Stripping bare, you felt the lukewarm water hit your skin as you went through the itinerary of the day ahead in your brain again.

1: Lunch at a cute rooftop restaurant that Hyun-jee had (for real this time), reserved.

2: Coming back to the resort get changed into your bathing suits.

3: Fulfilling the 'beach' part of the beach getaway.

4: Sleep, maybe.

5: Bonfire dinner!

You came out of the shower wearing tank tops and jeans shorts, a wet towel in your hand. Hyunjin strewn was on his bed (closer to the door), texting someone, or in his case, multiple someones. You assumed it was a group chat because the screen lit up with a notification numerous times.

The sight of Hyunjin biting his lip to stop himself from bursting out in laughter while wearing nothing but (at least you assumed it was nothing) a bathrobe did things to you that most definitely should not have been done.

For the sake of your sanity, you cleared you throat as a sign of banishing Hyunjin to the shower. He gave you a nod, grabbed his towel, and walked away. You let out a sigh and after hanging your towel on the balcony railing, dramatically fell onto your bed.

Hyunjin hadn't really told you much after you both entered the room. He only offered to let you shower first. You were brushing your hair and humming in partial contentment. You had resulted against washing your hair, knowing you would wash it again after coming back from the beach.

You're Taylor Swift album marathon was rudely, in you humble opinion, interrupted by the sound of a door opening. You were met, however, with an ethereal looking Hwang Hyunjin, fresh out of a shower. Beads of water hung to his neck and the tips of his hair. You were overcoming by an extremely concerning urge to lick them off.

Although Hyunjin was currently very aggressively wiping his hair with his towel, he had a smirk on his face, an obvious indication of him noticing you checking out. You looked away with a cough and a blush. Hyunjin fell onto his bed with an oomf and laid on his back while playing games on his phone.

You decided to break the ice wall erected between the two of you by blurting out, "I'm sorry for what I said that night. You didn't deserve to here any of that."

Hyunjin looked up from his phone in surprise. He studied you for a moment. Hyunjin finally broke the agonizing silence. "Likewise. I genuinely apologize for anything I may have said that night," he hesitated, "Does this mean that we can go back to normal?"

You gave him a small smile and a nod, although you knew just as well as him that there was no 'we' to go back to normal too.

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All throughout lunch, you failed at acknowledging the close proximity between you and Hyunjin. He sat next to you because, who was he to sit with somebody else's significant other? His thigh was pressed against yours and his fingers brushed yours over and over again.

"So, um, I heard about your breakup. How have you been holding up?" you asked. You wanted a gauge on how depressing your de facto roommate would act over the week.

"Oh," he responded nonchalantly, "I never really saw it as a relationship. We just weren't compatible at all."

Your brain processed his words as your eyes trailed the plate of seafood kebabs being brought to your table. You were in the process of eating one when Hyunjin added, "I think I might actually like someone else, and I'm not one for emotional cheating."

It's safe to say that the hot sauce you dipped the kebab in went down the wrong pipe.

After that tantalizingly long endeavor you had just undertaken, you were back in the comfort of your hotel room. You and Hyunjin decided that you would change in the bathroom while he would change in the actual room itself.

You had absolutely no intention of actually getting into the ocean water. It was getting late (yes, you considered three in the afternoon late) and you were not a big fan of swimming, despite having learnt it when you were younger. Your outfit was extremely simple, consisting of a sage green crop top, white long flowy skirt, a pair of sandals and finally a cute tote bag to store your camera, books and other essentials.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you did a little twirl to check if the skirt was spin worthy. Hyunjin watched you with a smile and give you a small clap after you were done. You blushed profusely, his existence somehow (?!) completely slipping from your mind.

"You look beautiful," said Hyunjin kindly with a wide smile.

"So do you," you replied breathlessly.

Hyunjin looked effortlessly attractive in a white button up that was half untucked and loose black pants. The first button was undone and you could see a shark bone necklace perfect encapsulated in the dip of his collarbone.

You were imagining how it would feel to run your fingers along it when Hyunjin asked, "Don't plan on swimming? I know I don't."

"Nope," you replied sheepishly as you both walked out the hotel door, "I actually have a fear of the ocean, as embarrassing as it sounds."

"It isn't embarrassing. I get nightmares about carrots," Hyunjin confessed with a shudder. You snickered at his words.

Hyunjin's hand lightly held your arm and guided you towards the right direction. The feel of his skin on yours completely wiped away your initial mortification at walking in the completely opposite direction.

He dropped your arm as spontaneously as he held it and you both stood awkwardly in the lobby, waiting for Hyun-jee and Reina. Byeol wasn't feeling well (she could come up with a better excuse) so her and her boyfriend went ahead with the decision of staying in.

The four of you walked out the resort in animated chatter. Being more of a listener yourself, you took a backseat as Hyunjin and Hyun-jee wildly gesticulated about work, life and (for some reason) the benefits of chocolate milk. Reina passed you a knowing smile; the two siblings once brought together could not shut up for the life of them.

You noticed Hyun-jee hanging back. She waited for you to catch up to her and said, "I'm sorry about the arrangement. It can't be easy for you."

You looked at her questioningly, "Why wouldn't it be easy?"

"Well, you both don't really know each other that well. To top it all off, Hyune oppa stopped seeing that Ellie girl. He hasn't been moping around much, probably because it only lasted like a month."

Hyun-jee paused and continued in a whisper, "I think she was more into him than he was into her."

You just laugh with a shake of your head and run up to Reina, throwing an arm around her shoulder. Through the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin observing the three of you with a sad smile. You instantly feel guilt at leaving him out, even though the three of you were close friends long before Hyunjin came into the picture.

When you finally reach the beach, everyone settles into their designated role. Reina and Hyun-jee play volleyball with a bunch of locals while you and Hyunjin retreated under a covered cabana. Hyunjin sat on one side of it, sketching on his sketch pad, while you laid down on the other side, indulging in a mystery thriller.

Old habits really do die hard.

You turned to look at Hyunjin. The expression of concentration on his face was still the same. His hair was longer now though, and locks of it fell into his eyes. You felt the urge to push it away and subconsciously, ended up doing so.

He looked up at you. "Oh, um, your hair, I-" you stammered incoherently.

Hyunjin let out a chuckle. "It's fine. Thank you."

He turned back to his unfinished sketch and you put your book back in your tote bag. Wanting to stretch your legs, you noticed a dock like structure stretching out over the vast expanse of sea. Hyun-jee beckoned you towards her and the two of you set off to take pictures near that dock.

It felt slippery, at first, but eventually, you and Hyun-jee caught your balance. The farther out you went, the deeper was the ocean. The colors all blended to create beautiful hues of blue. They eerily mimicked the same hues that you currently were living in.

Hyun-jee's arms were full of shells, multicolored and all shaped differently. You both were so engrossed in picking at them that you didn't notice that you almost reached the end of the dock. Your sandal got caught on one of the stray nails.

And then you slipped.

And then you fell.

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Funnily enough, the only thought in your mind while you were falling was how the whistling of the wind sounded like that of a tea kettle. You had only heard the sound of a tea kettle once before, at your grandmother's house. Your mom decided to take out the old blue kettle that laid forgotten under the stove and decided to whip up some chamomile tea with it.

What an odd thing to reminisce about.

After what felt like hours, your body hit the water. The screams you were initially hearing were now muffled. Water attacked you, dragging you downwards. You did learn how to swim, but your body felt like it was made up of bricks and lead, not skin and bones.

Instinctively, you closed your eyes and tried to throw your hands up. In an attempt to get an intake of breath, you opened your mouth. What a stupid mistake. Seawater and other substances flooded into your mouth. Bile rose up but you couldn't close your mouth. When you finally could, you were compelled to close it.

You felt your brain separate from your body, as if you were just watching what was happening and weren't present in the situation. All sense of time was gone. You had never felt more helpless and locked out of your body before. Tears streamed down your face, but it didn't matter because all of you was drenched anyways.

You felt your consciousness slip, and felt a peculiar serenity that you had never felt before. You were floating out of your body now, your mind keenly observing the vessel that was once you, flailing about like a fish out of water.

How ironic.

People said that drowning was the worst way to die.

Wait, what? What were you even thinking?

You were dying.

You were dying.

No. No, you couldn't die. There was so much left for you to see, to experience. You wanted a stable job, a family. You wanted to taste what a snickerdoodle cookie was like and wanted to see Olivia Rodrigo in concert. But most of all, you wanted to live.

Life was so beautiful. All the dips and highs and small straight lines made it an endless rollercoaster, yes, but it was a ride you were not ready to get off yet. If you lived after this, you told yourself, you would be selfish and do what you wanted.

You wanted to submit your thesis and and stand on that podium, certificate in hand. You wanted to go on a date with Hyunjin and did not care about whoever objected otherwise. You wanted to be Hyun-jee's bridesmaid when she and Reina got married in San Diego. You wanted to tell your parents you loved them and wanted to watch your sisters grow up.

You wanted, and wanted, and wanted and that was enough to keep you some kind of awake and alert.

You felt a pair of arms around your waist and another hoisting you up. Concerned chatter and sighs of relief were sounds that managed to seep through the thrumming in your ears. Opening your eyes and letting it adjust to the light, you collapsed onto the dock. You threw up whatever was inside of you, feeling someone patting your back.

Somebody helped you stand up, since you were still shaken up by the whole incident. You could see a small crowd on the actual beach and a drenched Reina in front of you. Hyunjin must have been the one holding you up then.

Hyun-jee face was frozen in shock, eyes still glued to the place where you had fallen. When she finally looked up at you, she let out a choked sob, and eventually a torrent of tears fell from her eyes. Watching her cry made you cry, as you were gently tugged back to the beach by Hyunjin.

He sat you down on the edge of the cabana you both had occupied earlier. A lifeguard was rushing over to you, checking vitals and making sure you weren't having any problems with your breath. After you felt like you were in a sober state capable to answer questions, you rattled off responses in a monotonous tone.

"Considering she was in the water for just under a minute," confirmed the lifeguard, "She should be fine."

Worry was still etched on everyone's faces though, frustrating you. You were not okay, and you knew that. Not being okay after such an incident was to be expected of you. But you were not okay in a way that couldn't be helped by them. You had no such severe physical injuries or major repercussions; but mentally?

You weren't quite sure your mind was even yours.

You assured everyone that you were okay over and over again. Hyunjin grabbed a blanket from a kind family also on vacation, offering you some water and hydrated salts as well. After thanking them profusely, you stumbled into the taxi that Hyun-jee had booked. While Hyun-jee and Reina stayed behind to file formalities with the local authorities, Hyunjin volunteered to take you back to the hotel room.

The entire sequences of events left you so dazed, that you couldn't even process what was happening. Sitting in the taxi and reflecting on what happened finally allowed the physical effects of almost drowning to settle deep into your bones.

It started with the shivering, your body uncontrollably shaking. You could feel someone's arms - Hyunjin's - wrap around you and start rubbing your sides. Then came to coughing, your throat parched and desperate for water. Through it all though, your mind stayed fixed at one point.

There was a light. And peace. So much peace it felt nearly unnatural.

You began sobbing. Your head was throbbing and the entire world felt dizzy. Hot tears streamed down your face. You could feel some rubbing circles on your back, hear someone comforting you. But you weren't present in the situation itself. Words blended into white noise and everything hurt.

The entire time, from Hyunjin helping you out of the car to Hyun-jee clearing the way to your hotel room, your brain was on autopilot. It wasn't that you were thinking about something else; you just couldn't think. You wanted silence and quiet.

As soon as Hyunjin closed the door, you slumped against it, dragging Hyunjin down with you. You entire body was still covered in water, but you didn't care. You couldn't even take in complete breaths; the lack of dryness on your skin didn't even occur to you.

Hyunjin put his chin on your head and whispered, "Just breathe. It'll all be over soon."

As your breathing and heart rate slowed, you became distinctly aware of the fact that you were currently covered in dirty water and the pee of aquatic animals. Breaking away from Hyunjin's comforting hold, you let out an incoherent string of words, grabbed the first pair of pajamas you could find, and staggered into the bathroom.

Throwing off your clothes with a newfound urgency to feel dry and clean, you stepped into the shower and let out a tired sigh as soon as the hot droplets hit you repeatedly. It was a startling contrast to the unchanging sensation of cold you were locked in for the past thirty minutes (at least that was what you assumed it was, considering your knowledge of time itself was currently fucked). Feeling your muscles loosening underneath you, you made the blunder of closing you eyes.

As soon as you did, the water now sliding down your naked skin felt all too similar to the water that nearly took your life.

You were drowning again, literally in water and figuratively in despair. You reached out for help, screamed until your voice went hoarse. The light was coming for you, luminescent orbs turning into menacing vessels of death. But nobody came. And the terrifying reality was, nobody would.

Tripping over the shower cubicle, you lunged for your towel and scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw. Even a single drop of water felt like acid on your skin. In you haste to put on your clothes, you forgot to turn the shower on. Mustering your courage, you reached to turn the knob and made sure that no part of your body contacted anything other than a dry surface.

When you teetered over the elevated surface of the bathroom an soon as you opened the door, Hyunjin was already there to steady you.

"I'll dry your hair," he offered.

You nodded, still mum, and sat down on Hyunjin's bed. You noticed that he had changed into a white cotton shirt and gray sweatpants. Hyunjin leaned over to plug in the hairdryer. Coaxing you into turning around, his hands wove through your hair and nearly rocked you to sleep.

"Hyunjin," you whispered deliriously, "I feel safe in your arms."

You must have been really tired because you completely missed his response.

"And I feel safe knowing you are in my arms."

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

After Hyunjin had dried your hair, he helped you onto your bed. You had fallen asleep due to the sheer weight of your exhaustion. Hyunjin promised that he would be in the room, not leaving for a second. Your eyes shut and you slept for almost four hours.

When you woke up, it was late. The sky was no longer colored light blue, but instead shone a dark navy. You turned over your phone on the nightstand.

9:00 PM

"Hyun-jee came over," Hyunjin said.

You turned around to see him watching a drama on his phone. His hair was tussled, as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes looked tired and his body looked weary but his smile was like a peek of sunlight on an unreasonably cloudy day.

"She left some noodles for you," he motioned towards the large Styrofoam box on the little coffee table in your room.

You snatched up and hungrily began eating. "Thanks," you said between mouthfuls.

"No problem. You should be thanking Hyun-jee."

"I will."

"Do you want to watch something?"

"Okay."

Hyunjin started a new drama for the both of you to watch. The only sounds in the room were noises from his laptop and your slow chewing. You were grateful that Hyunjin didn't press whenever you replied half heartedly or with one word.

It was such a paradoxical situation, the one you were stuck in. A mere ten hours ago, the thought of him being in close proximity almost drew you to insanity. Now, his steady presence was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Fate truly is fickle.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

You woke up from your slumber with a start, sweat soaking through your clothes and onto your bedsheets. You were breathing heavily, so much that your lungs were hurting. Beside you, you could hear Hyunjin stirring in his sleep.

You chest was constricted and your breathing was shallowed. Ugly tears inched slowly, down your cheeks. Your hands were shaking and your vision was blurry.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here now."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you whispered to Hyunjin in the darkness.

"No," he said firmly, "You clearly aren't. Let me help you. Please."

You gave him a nod, which he probably didn't see in the darkness. Leaning over to turn on the table lamp nestled between the two beds, with a small click, the entire room was eliminated.

"Nightmare?"

"Yes. Sorry for disturbing you."

"Don't be."

Hyunjin started humming something into your hair, making you feel drowsy. Sleep was coming in waves, but you refused to close your eyes. Fighting to keep them open, you tried to place why whatever Hyunjin was humming sounded so familiar. Finally, you realized it.

"Oh my god," you snorted, "Are you humming the Sofia the First theme song right now?"

"Shh," he giggled, "Let me honor Sofia in peace."

You nestled into him more comfortable and felt his head fall onto yours. Slowly, he pulled you down onto the bed.

"Do you mind is I sleep?" he questioned.

"No," you replied, "Just please keep holding me."

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek in response and comfortably placed his head on the crook of your neck. Soon enough, melodious snores (how do even his snores sound attractive?) filled the silence in the room. You could do this forever.

Oh. You could do this forever.

But you didn't have forever. What you had was tantalizingly short in the grand scheme of things. And nearly dying had really put things into perspective. You might not have forever, but you have now. And ideally, now was all you needed.

But what would Hyun-jee think?

Except, did it really matter what she thought? She was your best friend, she had seen pieces of you that you hadn't shown anyone. If anybody would understand, it would be Hyun-jee. You began to question yourself. Was it really Hyun-jee you were scared of, or something else entirely?

Putting the blame on Hyun-jee for stopping yourself from pursuing Hyunjin was so easy. The truth was, you were frightened. Hyun-jee's opinion had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

You were so scared of the consequences after the falling apart of a relationship, that you were hesitant to be in one in the first place. The prospect of heartbreak and it's accompanying nastiness petrified you to the point where you were blind to the beauty of being in a relationship.

Your situation was pathetic really. You were pathetic. It wasn't even a paradoxical situation of unrequited love where you were hopelessly head over heels in love with Hyunjin and he couldn't have cared otherwise. He liked you back, at one point, may even have loved you back.

After tossing and turning, you finally came to one decision you were determined to go through with.

That night, you didn't sleep for two reasons: fear of drowning in the ocean and anticipation to drown in Hyun-jee's.

"Good morning angel," he yawned, "Did you get any sleep?"

"No," you gulped.

"Well that's to bad," he mumbled against you neck.

His hair tickled your face and you began second guessing whether or not you should really do this. Hyunjin blinked once, slowly, as if taking in his surroundings. When he probably realized where he was, he got up with a start.

"Shit, I had no idea I was this close to you. I'm really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable and-"

"I like you," you blurted out. "I like you and I want to date you. I know you like me as well and I love Hyun-jee, but I want to experience loving you."

You looked down shyly as Hyunjin's jaw dropped. He cupped his hand around your cheeks and replied breathlessly, "Oh thank goodness. I would kiss you but you just survived a traumatic event and my breath probably stinks."

You opened you mouth to respond but ended up yawning instead. Hyunjin visibly held back his laughter and you playfully hit his arm.

You gave him a side-eye and he pulled you back into bed again, tickling you in the process. You shoved him and he laughed at you and by the end of it, you were so out of breath and so happy, that a part of you forgot that you very well may not have been here today.

You didn't have forever, but you had Hyunjin and that was enough.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

epilogue.

You put your bags down on the wooden floor with an animated 'oof!' while you once again took in the grandeur of the Hwang family ski lodge. You were back again, invited (this time by Hyunjin) to spend the summer with the Hwangs.

Everything was coming full circle, wasn't it?

Hyunjin's mother approached you with a smile on her face. She pulled you in for a tight hug, her perfume attacking your senses.

"How have you been, my child?" Her hair was pinned up to perfection and her skin was flawless.

"Really good," you told her excitedly, filling her in on all the gossip that was taking place at your university.

She listened to you keenly and once you finished, she told you, "Oh, Hyunjin is in his room, by the way."

She shot you a wink and you felt like you would melt out of embarrassment.

"I didn't know he told you," you said sheepishly.

"He didn't have to," his mother laughed.

Mothers. Their powers were strong enough to make the childhood version of you believe they were psychic.

You bounded up the familiar stairs to Hyunjin's room. Not bothering to knock (what's the worst he could be? naked?), you rushed inside and fell dramatically onto his bed. Hyunjin regarded you with a hint of fear at you sudden entrance.

Turning over on your stomach to face him, you announced with an air of superiority, "I did it."

That could only mean one thing in this context.

Hyunjin's eyes widened. "You did it? You submitted your dissertation?" he asked in awe.

You nodded enthusiastically and brought your face close to his. "I'm yours for the next three months now."

Hyunjin pouted, "I thought you already were mine."

You rolled your eyes at him and pulled him in for a long awaited kiss. It was to no avail however; you both were smiling against each other's lips so much that it wasn't quite a kiss.

Breaking away, you were about to settle in next to Hyunjin when you told him, "It feels weird though. Not having to do anything. Does that make sense?"

"If you say it, it makes sense. And if I happen to think it does not, I will attempt to look at it from your perspective. Regardless of either situation though, I will accept it because I love you, and that to me is what love is. Unwavering dedication and acceptance," Hyunjin replied with ease.

You felt your heart stutter. He was the first to say he loved you, two weeks ago under a dimly lit bookstore you were in. Hyunjin was said he knew the moment you gave him a smile and he realized, it was a smile you only presented in front of him.

"I love you too, dork," you said cheekily.

Hyunjin had shown you shades of love that you could never escape from. Every little action of his encompassed love. From the small smiles he always sent your way to the way he tucked your hair behind your ear and always carried extra rubber bands for you, Hyunjin was love personified

"I'm here!" came the unmistakable voice of Hyun-jee.

You and Hyunjin exchanged a glance. You had decided that it would be best to tell Hyun-jee about the relationship as soon as possible. Hiding your relationship from her for three months seemed like a mammoth endeavor.

After finding Hyun-jee wolfing down cookies in the kitchen and giving her a customary bear hug, you gave her a nervous laugh.

"Wosh? You bosh look like you neesh to chell me shomething."

"Ew," whined Hyunjin, "Chew first."

Hyun-jee swallowed and said, "You both look like you're hiding something from me. You didn't break something I own, right?"

"Actually," you hesitated and Hyunjin gave you a small nod of encouragement, "We did have to tell you something. Hyunjin and I... we have been dating for the last two, two and a half months."

You let out a slow breath, gauging Hyun-jee's reaction. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows knitted. You could see her visibly tensing and take in a shallow intake of breath.

Shock slowly settled into Hyun-jee's features. "How long?"

"Well technically since we were eighteen, but we were scared of your reaction and-" you gave Hyunjin a small kick to his shin. He ruffled your hair back.

"So, you are telling me that you both have liked each other for that long but decided not to do anything about it because you were scared of me?" Hyun-jee marvelled.

"Well, yes-"

"Oh my god," Hyun-jee laughed, "You both are so dense. Do you know how much I have been rooting for this relationship? Hell, I even booked one room for the two of you as soon as I realized that I forgot."

"You did that on purpose?" you were reeling from the revelation.

All of your belief that you would have to choose between friendship of love came crashing down. Relief washed over you and a sob that was lodged in your throat finally found release.

Hyun-jee and you went back and forth until Hyunjin finally put an end to the conversation. "These," he declared picking up the tin of cookies that Hyun-jee was previously snacking on, "Are mine."

He proceeded to run out of the kitchen as Hyun-jee chased him with a spatula, screaming bloody murder. After the siblings finally calmed down, all three of you collapsed onto the large couch in the middle of the lounge. Looking at your friends, your family, made you realize that you were loved.

Maybe, falling in love wasn't so bad. Yes, you fell. You fell hard and soft, you fell with your hands bloodied and the sensation of flying. You fell, but Hyunjin was there to catch you. And as he assured you over and over again, he would always be there to catch you.

Hyunjin laced his hands through yours and gave it a squeeze. This time, it was a promise. A promise of whatever eternity you both had left that would be spent together. A promise to love through the light and the dark.

A promise to be each other's first and last loves.

main taglist (reply to be added) -

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee

fic taglist - @scarlet789 @taichoushadowficrec

[faggotbeloved]

Cold Metal Biting Soft Flesh | Yandere!Curly x Captain!M!Reader

1: Sanitized (~1k words)

Cw: Canon typical violence, my headcannons for post-crash Curly's wounds, no beta we close our eyes, body horror, lots of painkillers

This work does not contain smut but is 18+. Minors and fem-aligned people, please do not interact. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

It had been only a few hours after saving a man from a three decade old craft when you’d determined that he was going to be under your primary care, aside from medical, from now on.

The man, as you’d discovered, was in fact the captain of the Tulpar. Upon inspection of his wounds, which only occurred back at the ship and with him sedated, Rhodes discovered the harrowing truth that he’d been in a state of third degree full-body burns for over four months. Worse still, he had one half-functional eye with the eyelid burnt shut though the other was severely dry, eyelidless, but still in surprisingly good condition.

Immediately, Rhodes ordered someone to get the passenger’s company issued bio-fabricator, a critical technology with the ability to take biological elements and grow genetically similar (but not identical) copies.

Technically, it was reserved for creating more plants or animals in a biosphere lacking most of the required succession elements, but it’d be easy to grow supplemental skin, hair, and blood to perfectly match the burnt man’s body. He also ordered silver sulfadiazine cream to soothe the initial burns, and for the first time since the man was in the accident he seemed to not be in agony.

──────────────────────

You sat beside the man. He still had his tongue and vocal cords, so he could talk (with much effort), but he was fully deaf so you had a captioning machine set up for him to read your words. Once he awoke, you silently showed him your badge with your name, picture, and title, which he read and nodded once he was done.

“Are you able to talk, sir? We need your name,” you said softly, watching as your head doctor, Rhodes, finally replaced the sticky, deteriorating bandages that practically cemented to his raw flesh. Luckily, the man was unable to feel it with how numb his entire body was.

He nodded weakly, eye never straying from you for long, and coughed. He spat up blood and saliva, to which you gently swiped a rag across his chin to remove it. “It’s okay. Take your time. This is Rhodes, he’s your doctor for now, but one of the passengers here is also a cosmetic surgeon and can start skin grafts once you’re ready.”

You sat back to give the man some space and idly wondered if the bio-fabricator could make enough connective tissues, nerves, and muscles to give him back his limbs. Rhodes left after replacing his arms and legs bandages, and soon the man tapped your resting hand with one of his handless arms and you looked back at him.

“C…url…y,” he rasped out. His volume was lacking, but he couldn’t hear himself so it was to be excpected.

“Curly? Is that your name?”

He nodded weakly. You spoke again, “Curly. Okay, and can you answer a couple questions for me? Shake or nod your head, if you can’t talk.”

Curly nodded, and you began questions. “Were you the captain of the freighter I found you on?” Nod. “Were there exactly five people, counting you?” Nod. “Did the crash do this to you?” Nod.

“Was the crash on purpose?”

He hesitated, then nodded very minutely.

“Did you–” you were cut off. “Jim…my,” he croaked. Well, it sounded more like ‘Jenny’ on account of his lack of lips, but you got the gist. “Jimmy crashed the ship?” Nod. “Did the crew know that?” Shake.

“Shit.” Nod. You chuckled at the nod and he looked up, like he was proud of making you laugh.

“So… do you have your ID with you?” you asked, and he produced a fresh ID from a lanyard under his gown. “Huh. Did Jimmy put that on you?” You asked, to which he nodded. “Was he your friend?” A weak nod. “Do you know why he went batshit? I mean, he’s the only one who could have killed all of your crewmates.” Curly tilted his head like he was wondering what you were asking. You rambled too fast for the machine to pick up. “Oh, yeah. Do you know of a motive?” Shake.

You glanced from the ID card to his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes. You notice there’s something written on the back, but the handwriting is awful. “Um, it looks like Jimmy tried to give me instructions and told a five year old scribe. Can you decipher this?” You asked, showing him the text. Shake. “Fine, I guess. It’s good you have this, facial reconstruction can probably get you pretty close to your face from then.”

He shrugged and laid back, gazing at you. “Wait…” he gasped. “‘lease.” Please.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” He pleaded, using what remained of his forearm to lock around your arm and keep you (only barely) in place. “’m… s…cared."

“Scared?” You echoed, settling back into your chair and placing a hand on his thigh. “You’re safe here. Everyone who goes in and out of here has high clearance and I know them all personally.” Even still, Curly shook his head. “‘lease,” he echoed.

“I… suppose I could get Sealegs to move my desk into here. Would that be good?” Nod. Nod. Nod. “This is Captain to Sealegs, Sealegs, do you copy?”

“I copy. Whatcha need?” Sealegs hummed. The sound of a familiar video game caught your attention.

“Quit playing Snake on government computers, first of all. Wheel my workbench to the medbay,” you requested, only endearingly annoyed at your nephew. After a few minutes, a young boy with the same eyes and hair as you came in with a rolling desk equipped with robotics equipment, soldering items, and more. Curly seemed to relax once you situated beside him and the two of you slipped into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Curly, can I take some measurements of you?” You asked after a couple minutes. “Arms and legs,” you added. Nod. Curly lifted up a handless arm and waited for you to start, to which you took diameter and circumference of his arm, approximate length, shape of the amputation, and more. You did the same for the other arm and both legs, then you sat back down to work.

──────────────────────

In a few minutes, you put your higher education to use and attached a crude prosthetic to his leg, but since he was numbed to hell it wasn’t causing him any pain. You worked, he watched, and soon he fell asleep painlessly for the first time in probably a half of a year or so, for him at least.

Once he stopped coughing every time you looked away for too long, you were able to get some work done and sent off an update to your boss–you told him that you had a new crew member on board, that you authorized the use of the bio-fabricator, and that you’d pay for his medical costs. Of course, you wouldn’t tell Curly that. Feeling indebted to someone is a terrible thing.

You were in for a long night. You wanted to give him the most mobility possible, but it’d be up to him ultimately to use them. The least you could do is build him the choice.

┌───────────────────────┐

I’m not happy with this, but if I didn’t get it out now it’d rot forever :( thank you to everyone who’s left kind words and reblogs and likes!! It means so much and if youve left any asks I’m so sorry but tumblr SAYS i have 6 asks but none show up :(((

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Offering an NPD perspective on Ford Pines, because I feel the most common discussions surrounding his narcissistic traits tends to go in two ways — from what I’ve personally seen — and that’s defending him, and denying the mere possibility he may have NPD because it’s seen as a negative, or using NPD as a way to villainise him, and thus demonise NPD. Or, the alternative, this part of his character is completely overlooked.

That isn’t to say I haven’t seen some wonderful analyses on Ford and NPD, rather, I find it surprisingly lacking when his character might be some of the best representation of my own experience struggling with narcissism (alongside Bill).

I believe a lot of it stems from the misconception and stigma around NPD, and the fact Ford goes again common, typically incorrect, ideas, such as showing genuine care for other people, and accepting his failures and where he went wrong in the end, trying to repair his relationship with Stan, and realising that he doesn’t need to be recognised worldwide, as he’s found happiness with his family instead. All of these do not correlate with the media idea of a narcissist, but the fact is, narcissists are no different from any other disorder or mental health issue. We come in all different forms, and the idea we are inherently abusive or evil is such a widespread misconception that it becomes difficult getting help or support.

And that’s why I find Ford so important.

This alone, to me, describes in simple words how it feels to deal with NPD, and though you could argue Bill is projecting here, I think the point is they’re so similar, the lines blur. Both struggle with this same mentality, but Ford is able to reach out, and accept help, and Bill lets himself sink deeper and deeper into his own lies. Also, I’d argue it isn’t Bill projecting, because we sees evidence of this behaviour in Ford in the show and the journal.

He’s someone who believes himself destined for greatness, and won’t accept the bare minimum, such as when Fiddleford suggests he publish his research as is — No, he can’t have that. He has to be the one to uncover this grand theory. He has to have his name cemented amongst the greats. He believes himself to be special, different and more capable than other people, and yet he longs for the company of others all the same. He lives off of validation and praise, and strives for it, his own ego clashing against his lack of self-worth. Bill’s manipulations work on him because Ford eats up this sort of validation — it’s like one big high. It’s confirmation he is special. He is meant for greater things. He was right.

Ford notably struggles with empathy, which is likely both related to his autism, and also his narcissism. Other people simply don’t make sense to him. It takes effort for him to be able to understand people where they’re at, and he is willing to put in that effort notably, taking note of Fiddleford’s habits for example.

He also does struggle with manipulation and being deeply self-centred. A great example being Dipper’s apprenticeship. Ford is very subtly manipulating the situation here, and he doesn’t even notice, which is, in my own experience, common with NPD. He’s also unable to see Dipper and Mabel as, well, Dipper and Mabel, rather putting his own issues with Stan onto them, especially Dipper. He sees Dipper as a younger version of himself, and is trying to point him in that direction, never thinking whether it’s actually right for Dipper, or whether it’s for himself.

I could probably go on, like how he tends to have a black and white view of people, with his opinions on them easily flicking between extremes as a method of coping, or how he panics at the idea of his life’s work being destroyed, despite knowing the dangers.

Whether you agree he has NPD or not, Ford definitely has a lot of narcissistic traits, and yet, despite that, despite every mistake he’s made, everyone he’s pushed away, he gets a second chance. He gets to be loved and understood. He finds happiness. He gets to recover.

It’s very rare that characters with so many narcissistic traits get endings like that!

Ford is not a bad person because he’s a narcissist, he’s just a person, one who’s fucked up, and who’s still learning, and still healing, and that’s why he works. That’s why he’s such a comfort.

On a final note, If you are someone who’s going to argue vehemently against this idea, I kindly ask you simply scroll by!

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[kayhi808]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing! I was wondering if I was able to request a Bucky Barnes x Reader Idea?

The reader was best friends with Bucky and Steve in the 40s. Before Buckys fall the reader was kidnapped by HYDRA and was never seen again. Bucky and the reader have always had feelings for each other but they had never made it official back then. Fast forward, "during C.A. civil war" Tony Stark finds a HYDRA base and finds the reader inside a cryo chamber. (The rest is up to you)

I'll let you make this however you please 🙏

Thank you so much if you choose to write this!

Hi @armystrong980 !! This was such a good idea! I hope you like it. Im making this a 2 part story because there just so much to cover lol. Thank you so much for the request!! 🥰

Then & Now

Your mom & Steve's mom were nurses in the same hospital. Steve was a sickly kid so you'd keep him company a lot of the time. You'd create fantastical stories & he'd illustrate pictures for it. Other times you both would re-enact parts of your story, losing yourselves in the fantasy world you created. You two were the best of friends.

One sunny summer afternoon, lost in your fantasy world you were twirling around the sidewalk, caught up in an imaginary cyclone like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, when you crashed into a group of boys coming down the walk. "I...I'm so s...sorry!" The boy you crashed into did not accept your apology, shoving you out of the way, making you fall, hitting your chin against the stoop. You saw Steve's eyes grow wide in horror and then anger. You look down & the front of your dress is covered in blood. You start to cry mostly in fear, adrenaline making you numb to the pain.

Steve flies off the stairs ready to avenge you, but you're so worried they'd hurt him too. "Stevie, no!" Everything happened so fast. The bully is flat on his back & a dark haired boy is punching away on him. Steve is off to the side trying to catch his breath. You make your way to Steve grabbing his arm. The dark-haired boy finally lets the bully up and him & his friends scatter like cockroaches.

"What did ya think you were doin'? He woulda clobbered ya!" Your hero gives Steve a gentle shove and turns his attention to you. He frowns, "Damn!" Taking off his button down, he wads it up to hold it against your chin. You start crying again, because now you feel the pain. "C'mon, lets go find your mom." Steve's hand slips into yours and you walk letting the dark-haired boy hold his shirt to your chin.

*****

You ended up needing a couple stitches which was devastating to you. You hadn't left the house in a few days so Steve's been coming around asking if you could come outside & play. You'd tell your mom "no", but one day she calls out "Sweetheart, you've got visitors." You look up from coloring on your bed to see Steve & the dark-haired boy in your doorway. "Mom, no!!" You hide your face behind a pillow, but you feel the bed dip.

Steve and the new boy climb up on the bed, "Why don't you want to come out & play? Don't you want to be my friend anymore?"

Quickly looking at Steve, "You're my best friend! Forever, r'member?"

Steve smiles, "Forever." Turning to the other boy, "Remember him? He's Bucky."

You shyly nod, "Thank you for helping me & beating that bad boy up." You notice both of them staring at the stitches on your chin & you hide it with your hands.

"Why are you hiding that? It's so cool!" Steve says in awe.

"No, it isn't! It's ugly,'" you pout.

"Are you kidding me? When you get your stitches out, you'll look like me!" Bucky thrusts his chin out so you can see his dimple. "Cool, right? Not everyone has one of these." Nudges Steve beside him, "He ain't got one. It's just me & you." That makes you giggle.

*****

You in fact, did not get a dimple in your chin when your stitches came out, but that day cemented your friendships. You grew up in the same neighborhood, went to school together. Bucky was a year older so he did have his own classmates he hung out with, but he'd always make time for you & Steve.

You eventually followed in your mother's footsteps and became a nurse. Steve was in Art School & Bucky was floating around in Sales. Whether it was cars, insurance, his charisma makes sales an obvious profession choice. He didn't take work too serious though, he was too busy hanging out with the fellas, flirting with a different girl every week.

Not that you were keeping track. Not that it bothered you seeing him flash that crooked grin at the pretty girl on his arm. Sigh. You couldn't really blame the women falling over themselves for Bucky's attention. Any time Bucky paid you attention, your heart would do flip flops in your chest. You've known him since you were 6yrs old and your crush on him started soon after.

You did some soul searching and you realized all you were doing was waiting around for Bucky to notice you as more than a friend. You didn't see that happening in the near future and you wanted to do something with your life. You wanted it to have meaning. To have purpose.

"I've got something to tell you." Bucky is walking you home from the diner where you had met up for dinner with Steve. Steve left early because he wasn't feeling well, so it left just the two of you. "But you can't tell Steve. I need to tell him on my own."

"This sounds serious," Bucky teases, tossing his arm across your shoulder.

"It...it kinda is." Taking a deep breath, "I've enlisted."

"Enlisted what?"

"I've joined the Army Nurse Corp." Bucky grabs your arm jerking you to a halt. "OW! Jamie!!"

"What the hell did you just say?!" His piercing blue eyes burns into you.

Prying his fingers off your arm, "I joined the Army Nurse..."

"Are you stupid?!" You've never seen Bucky this angry, but how dare he!

"Don't call me that! I'm smarter than you James Buchanan Barnes!"

"Are you? Coulda fooled me! You're going down to that office tomorrow & withdraw your papers!"

"I will not!"

"Doll, there's a God damn war going on!"

"That's why they need someone like me! Where ever they choose to send me, I can help! I can make a difference."

Raking his fingers through his hair, "People are DYING!"

"Well, maybe less people will die if I'm there!"

Bucky starts pacing in front of you. "Jesus! Why didn't you talk to us before you did something like this??"

"Look at you! This is exactly why."

Bucky stops pacing and cradles your face within his hands, "Please, doll." Leaning down so his forehead touches yours. "Don't go. Tell me what I have to do to make you stay? You can't leave me."

Never in all your dreams did you think Bucky would utter those words to you.

"Us...I mean us. This will do Steve in. You have to withdraw your paperwork."

Disappointed, you pull away from him. "I've signed it. I'm committed to this, Bucky. It's what I want to do."

"You're gonna get yourself fucking killed!!"

You storm away home. Heartbroken that he has so little faith in your capabilities. He called you stupid. That's not how you imagined that talk going. Maybe you expected too much from them because your talk with Steve only went a little better. He didn't call you stupid and he understood how you wanted to make difference and help but he didn't want you to leave, worried you'd get yourself killed, too.

When the time came for you to leave it was so much more painful than you thought. Steve was there to see you off. It felt like you were leaving your twin behind. Already you feel the loss of not having your best friend by your side.

Bucky was there too, standing off to the side. You were afraid he wasn't going to show up at all. When the time came, Bucky gave you a rib crushing hug but refused to make eye contact with you. He refused to say anything to you. But you felt his lips on your forehead before he stalked off.

******

"Bucky! Buck!!" Out of breath and flushed, Steve barrels into Bucky's office.

"Whoa! Take it easy, kid. What's wrong?"

Steve smashes a crumpled up paper into his chest. "She's gone. She's gone, Buck." Bucky takes the paper and sees it's a telegram. The unit you were assigned to was taken in an ambush. No. No. No. No. Bucky had to read it multiple times before it sunk in.

All the things he left unsaid. All the things he was going to tell you once you came back home. It's too late.

No survivors.

[bestcementcompany]

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[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter six: A place to belong

(Unedited, like the rest of the series)

Outer space had always been cold.

Your body didn’t suffer the effects of the temperature, yet you still felt the chill of the void on your skin. The stars and their dusts glowed around you, decorating your space in the most beautiful way that your human self could never dream of.

You thought of your family in your previous life and wondered how they were, if they were alright, if they were eating well and living well.

You also came to realize you weren’t homesick at all.

Materializing in the express and glancing at Welt made you feel a humane sense of relief in knowing you aren’t the only one who wanted to badly convey that you were safe in this new world you resided in.

Unlike Welt though, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to what once was, or have the choice in having the best of both worlds. Your existence was cemented in this world permanently the moment you became the embodiment of a concept and a being no longer human.

You can’t turn back. It’s a little funny that though you represented freedom, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to something simpler. You did not have the freedom to return to be the being you once were.

You can emulate human expressions, you can still feel, but you know you’re not really seeing or feeling things the way a human would anymore.

You’re not disturbed by this in the slightest.

You snapped out of your thoughts and walked towards your room then thought of how you’d decorate it— maybe something similar to a bachelor pad? No, Pompom would not be a fan. Maybe something similar to the archives? No, you’d be stealing Dan Heng’s shine.

Then you remembered cozy cabins, quilts, books, all things comfortable and got an idea.

You walked out of your room to seek Pompom and Himeko, ready to lay out your idea in personalizing that little space inside of this train— now that you think of it, it’s more of a house than anything else.

You realized having a home feels comforting more than it ought to be. As an Aeon, your home was the cosmos, the space being your cradle and the nebulas your walls; but the cosmos is hollow and cold, and it did not provide the warmth of the train, or the warmth only humans had.

While you could not go back to being what you were before, you at least had a choice in what your home should be, and what you could do.

“Himeko.” You called out to her, and she turned to you, smiling like you’re a kid that wants her company. “I have ideas to personalize my room, would you be fine if I were to be a bit loud in there for a bit?”

“I don’t mind, though you should ask Dan Heng-���

“I’m fine with it.” Dan Heng answered for her, sitting on a chair and tasting one of her coffee cups— you bit the urge to grimace at the sheer will he had to even drink that.

“Great! I’ll start when we’re on our next stop.” You said with a grin. “Herta got something heavy for us to do right? Leave it to me, think of it as a thank you and a vacation of some sorts.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you.” She sounded cautious almost, even after more than eight years.

“It won’t be much. Besides, you do own this train, think of it as a courtesy— like a tenant paying rent.” You stated, “I shared this space with you for more than eight years now and I’m modifying an area to my liking, it’s only fair if you get something in return in exchange right?”

Her eyes widened, seemingly surprised. She parted her lips, as if wanting to say something but you gently shushed her, knowing what it is she wanted to say. You’ve already given your protection and blessing to the express— you didn’t even need to help, but you want to.

“[Name].” She sighed fondly. “You can do as you wish, you don’t need permission from me or anyone else.”

“Oh, isn’t asking permission how things work in a shared space though?” You tilted your head, frowning. “I know I’ve done pretty unsavory things outside of this train,” you twirled a strand of your hair, looking away as you felt Dan Heng’s questioning stare on you. “But I don’t mind having to go back and forth with this every time I want to do something inside of it. it’d be unfair for everyone here if I don’t consider their feelings in the matter, or warning them ahead of time to what I will be doing.”

“Ah, I see.” She said, nodding to let you know she understood your point with a relieved and fond smile on her face. “Very well then. I’ll tell Welt you’ll be going to fetch the materials Herta asked for on your own.”

“We’ll have fun next time I promise— ugh if only Void was dead so I could use his body.” That sounded wrong, but soulium is great to use for whatever reason— be it a weapon, a snowboard, or a pan. “Hey uh before we land…. please tell Welt that (Censored).”

With those words, you left, disintegrating from the activation of a space anchor as you saw the planet where the materials on Herta’s list were particularly abundant.

Dan Heng for once looked a little horrified, Himeko however could only sigh at your antics.

What even was your suggestion? Well, it involves using Void as a snowboard, and using his “son” as the brakes.

Those words would be horrifying enough to hear if you were a man.

“Don’t worry, they won’t do that to you.” Himeko said in an attempt to reassure him. Although it worked, the words still rang through his head.

———————————

As you hummed and gathered the materials after killing a couple of Nanook’s children, you heard bells, then giggling.

You sighed. “You’re not very subtle in showing your amusement for the shit I do you know?”

You could feel them smiling, before multitudes of masks enter your vision and the sound of party balloons fill the space at the corner of your eyes.

The Elation morphs into a human-like shape like you, and you’re not surprised to find out whose form they took.

Familiar green eyes, and dark hair. Of course it would be Belobog’s conman this time— the last time Aha had showed themselves to you they took on the form of Hanabi when you were in some planet with Boothill some years ago.

“Of course! It’s rude to greet a friend without announcing my presence.” They grinned, their smile stretching a little wider than what a normal human could smile. You think this would have utterly creeped you out had you been a human.

“Good to see you again, Aha.” You said.

“And you are still the same old you.” They poked your nose. “What fun are you going to pull next I wonder?” They jeered.

“None of your business— I didn’t think you cared. I was under the assumption that as long as you are elated, then all is well.” Aha laughed at your intentional wording, slapping their knee as they wheezed too loudly.

“This is why you are my good friend.” They pinched your cheeks. “To think you’d offer all sides of a theater just like this, did you enjoy it when you were behind the safety of your screen too?”

What the fuck.

“What do you mean by that?” You innocently prodded, Aha merely kept their grin wide like a Cheshire Cat, their form morphing into something.. wrong, off, inelegant and disproportionate if you looked closer.

“Oh you know well what I am talking about, Little Libertas.” They said. “A reborn Aeon from a realm none of us can reach, how amusing indeed.” their eyes widened, pupils blown as they confirmed your suspicion. Aha had no reason to speak of lies to you for they were not human.

“Ugh.” You groaned. “Of course you’d break the fourth wall.” You said softly as you went back to picking up the materials with ease.

“Yet you still laugh whenever I rickroll you.”

“Fair.”

Aha hummed, their features returning back to normal seeing as it didn’t get a reaction out of you as they wanted.

“I would like to watch you more.” They said to you. “You are amusing.”

You made a face, and they laughed as they slowly but surely disappeared.

“Until next time little friend.”

You sighed, looking at the materials inside of the sack before dragging it with you and walking to a space anchor.

You still have a room to renovate after all.

—————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII (HERE), Part VIII, …….

Interludes: one, two…..

I’m still navigating on how I could properly write this fic, so when I eventually edit it please expect minor or major changes to how things would function because we know HSR lore isn’t that concrete yet.

I would also like to thank everyone for their love and support for this series, I love everyone’s praises towards this— I was initially hesitant to publish it, but I’m glad I did.

See you on the next installation!

[stillmonsterz]

Tired Of What We Are

pairing: sunghoon x reader

genre: angst (?), smut

summary: you drive to your old town, where old memories are awakened by the person who never ceased to confuse you, mystify you, and see you for what you are.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, piss is mentioned (not sexually), slapping, dubcon if you squint, name-calling, sunghoon is kind of a loser.

word count: 6.5k

As soon as you passed the sign on the highway welcoming you into your old town, you remembered why you had left in the first place. Small, ramshackle houses resting on lawns choking with weeds, cracked pavement, two grocery stores passing around the same pool of customers. You drove past the elementary school where children teemed on the swing sets, past the Methodist church where you had attended when a member of your family had felt religious conviction.

               Five years had passed since you had been here, and everything seemed even smaller and bereft of beauty. This was a feat in itself, as you had been sick of it when you had lived here. You had driven here to pick up a reference from your first job; a part-time job as a receptionist, a role that had forced you to be human. As you pulled into the parking lot of the small insurance company, you wondered why you had bothered driving all the way here instead of having the reference letter e-mailed to you. You figure that you wanted to remind yourself of how far you had come. 

               After an uncomfortable conversation with your old boss, you’re clutching your reference letter in your hands. You could just drive home, but a lingering thread of nostalgia knots itself in your chest. Instead, you decide to walk around the main street of the town: a thrift shop, a bakery, two grocery stores, two convenience stores, a chiropractor clinic, a veterinarian's office, a burger joint, and a dispensary. “So they finally built something there,” you think. You remember when it was just an empty space, white-washed walls and cement floors. The last time you had seen it was with Sunghoon.

               His name rings loudly in your head, the letters blazing red. You force yourself to walk past the dispensary, instead opting to go to the bakery.  Something sweet will take your mind off of him. Sunghoon, your enemy, the bane of your high school existence, the only person who had ever understood you. 

               You pick out a cupcake, sliding money onto the counter idly as the memory overtakes you. Even a bite of the treat does little to quell the overwhelming feeling of…loss?

               The last time you saw Sunghoon, you were both 18 years old. He was affable, good-looking, and hopelessly obnoxious. You had ended up on the same bus route, and he took pleasure in bothering you, from freshman year all the way to senior year. His taunts went from playground insults to targeted remarks about your body, your looks, your social life (or lack thereof). The one thing he focused on the most was your personality. Your other traits were all clearly jokes, but his dislike for certain aspects of your personality seemed almost personal. He would call you cowardly, overly shy, a people-pleaser.

               He would slide into your seat, invading your personal space. You tried placing your backpack next to you, but he would just place the backpack on his lap and smile at you with a smug grin. Sunghoon would take pictures of you when you weren’t looking, pointing at your nostrils flaring, or your awkward facial expression. You couldn’t remember your first conversation with Sunghoon; it had all blended into a long string of annoyances. 

               At school, you rarely saw him. He wasn’t in any of your classes, opting for the more practical courses while you had gone for college levels. When you did pass by him in the hallway, he was usually slinking around alone or with one of his friends. He was sickly pale and sullen, but when he laid eyes on you, he would brighten and laugh. If you were carrying a book, he would make a snide remark about that. Otherwise, he would either be silent or make fun of your outfit.  Sometimes he would have his arm around a girl, so he would walk past you as if you didn’t exist, but you swore you could feel his eyes burning holes in your back.

               You never argued with him. You thought it was your way of turning the other cheek, of being the bigger person, but it just made you feel like a coward. You would swallow the taunts like a spoonful of acetone, gritting your teeth and smiling. The smiling would only make it worse, sometimes.

               When you were 18 years old, three weeks before graduation, he had coaxed you out of your room during the middle of the night, rapping on your window with his reddened knuckles. It had taken some convincing, some wheedling, and a little name-calling, but you sensed that you could have an adventure. When you crawled out of your window, your backpack strapped to your back, he had helped you get out with a Cheshire grin.

               That was the night he had led you into that space on Main Street, pushing past the doors with the bravado that only a high school drug dealer could muster. He sat on the floor, patting the ground next to him.

               When you were 18 years old, and he gave you your first edible, resting your head on his shoulder as you waited for the THC to kick in. To pass the time, the two of you talked about your student body. Sunghoon disliked almost everyone there, spitting out names with venom. You weren’t fond of them either, but you told him that you didn’t mind them. He told you not to lie to him because he can tell. He said that he’s not fucking stupid. You said that you never thought he was stupid, and he told you to stop lying to him for once. Then you called him fucking stupid, and he laughed. Sunghoon had even started applauding you, but you had shoved him and told him to be quiet.

               That was the night when he had given you one, two, three gentle kisses on the lips, whispering that it didn’t mean anything after you had pointed out he had a girlfriend. You remembered his slow smile after you gave him a soft kiss in return.

               When you were 18 years old, and after the percs that he had taken had kicked in, he had admitted that he wished he had had your brain, so he could escape this town and become something, someone useful. When you had blearily suggested running away together, he had laughed and said that he wasn’t that fucking high.

               And that night, when he had pressed you onto the cement floor, kissing you languidly, like time was all you had, he had whispered that he wanted to give you the rest, let you take everything. You said that you didn’t want to do it there, and not when he had a girlfriend, and he had sat up, nodding and pushing his hair back. And you had asked why he was so mean to you, and he asked why you never fought back. And he said that all you did was take it and take it, so he had to give it. He said that he could tell that there was something in you, something desperate to get out, but you were too weak, so he had to rip it out for you. So you had stumbled to your feet, offended and dazed, and he had offered to walk you home, and you had said no. You walked away from him, and the last time you saw him was at your graduation. You were surprised that he had had the credits to walk.

               ---

               As you walked away from the bakery, you decided that you would drive to your old house, then you would never come back. You clambered into your car and drove to your neighborhood. You thought that things would have changed, but the sameness haunted you. The same people sitting on their porches, the same dogs tied to a post. When you get out of your car, parking it on the curb outside of your old house, and survey the ground, you could swear that the same glass bottles litter the ground.

               Your old house is a one-story affair: worn, blue clapboard siding, a tired white porch. To your delight, whoever moved in after you had installed a windowbox of red begonias. As you survey everything, the wilted lawn, the gravel driveway, the weather-dampened wooden steps leading inside, you hear a voice behind you.

               “If you wanna buy that one, you’re out of luck. I can get you someplace nicer.” The cadence, cockiness, the playfulness, it all burns you. You turn around, and there’s Sunghoon, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, smiling at you with that same shit-eating grin. He’s holding a glass bottle of blue soda.

               You just stare at him, taking in his appearance. A bit of stubble dots his chin, he’s grown taller, and his eyes are wearier. But it’s still him.

               “What, no hi?” He steps towards you, his arms outstretched. “You hate me that much?”

               “Hi,” you mumble, hugging him. He smells the same, and his grasp is as you had imagined.

               You feel his free hand stroking your back. “How have you been?”

               “Good.” You pull away so you can see his face closely. “You?”

               He shrugs. “I’m still here, so there’s your answer.” He steps back, letting his arms fall to his side. Sunghoon opens his soda, tossing the cap behind him. He takes a long swig of it as he stares at you. “What do you do now?”

               You tell him your new profession, and he smirks. “Using that brain for good, are you?”

               “I try,” you say dryly. “Do you still sell?”

               “Nah,” Sunghoon says, shaking his head. “Gave that shit up after high school. No, I’m a real estate agent now.” When he notices you glancing at his unkempt appearance, he groans. “I have a meeting with a client in like a few hours, I don’t go around wearing a suit all the time.”

               You laugh at him and walk away slightly. As you lean on your car door, crossing your arms, he follows you so that he’s standing directly in front of you.

               “So, are you still a geek ass loser?”

               “Are you still a burnout?”

               Sunghoon scoffs, kicking at your shoes. “Burnout? You sound like a PSA. I’m actually in my bag now.”

               You cover your mouth to muffle your laugh. “In your bag?”

               Sunghoon smiles so widely you can see his molars. “Yeah. Stacking paper, you know. I’m planning to save up money and head out with Shay.”

               “Shay?” You don’t recognize that name from Sunghoon’s revolving door of exes.

               “Yeah.” His voice drops and his eyebrows set into an angry little line. “Yeah, Shay’s my girl. We’ve been together for two years now.”

               “Oh. Congratulations.” For some reason, jealousy nips at you, and you can’t pinpoint why. “What’s she like?”

               Sunghoon shrugs. “She’s nice, you know. Cute and sweet.” He takes another drink of his soda. “You got anyone?”

               The teasing glint in his eyes makes you want to lie, but you know there’s no point. “No.”

               He laughs. “I knew it. I bet the last play you ever got was I kissed you.”

               The fact that he brings it up so casually takes you off guard, but years of arguing with Sunghoon have sharpened your reflexes. “You wish you were my only experience. You’re hardly that important.”

               “Oh?” Sunghoon walks slightly closer to you, his tone mocking. “Goody two-shoes got a little wild in college? What, did a guy finger you in exchange for you writing a report for him?”

               “Fuck off.”

               He grins at you. “Oh, and she’s got a mouth on her now. Who taught you that?”

               You roll your eyes. “Nice to see that you haven’t changed.”

               “Hey,” Sunghoon says defensively, “I have changed. You on the other hand…” He tilts his head, smirking as he analyzes you from top to bottom. “Well, you’ve changed in the ways that matter.”

               “And how’s that?”

               Sunghoon smiles. “You got hotter.” Before you can retort, he starts walking away. “Come on,” he calls behind him, “I have to give you something.”

               “Syphilis? Gonorrhea? Herpes?” you ask, wandering after him as he strides down the sidewalk. You rub your arms as you walk; the familiarity of the spring day has brought you chills.

               “Haha,” Sunghoon says in a deadpan voice. “Humor was never your strong suit, was it?” He stops walking so you can catch up to him, then takes a right.

               “You’re no comedian yourself,” you retort, nudging him with your elbow. He elbows you back, smiling, and then you remember that he’s dating someone. You clear your throat and look away, focusing on the poplar trees lining the sidewalk. “So what did you have to show me?”

               “It’s a surprise,” you hear him say, a teasing lilt in his voice.

               “I don’t like-,”

               “Surprises,” he says, and you turn to look at him. “I know you don’t, but you’ll like this one.”  

----

               Sunghoon was still living with his parents. He explained that the housing economy was horrible, so he opted to stay with them until he saved up enough money.

               His house was nicer than yours, which wasn’t a feat. It was two stories, and the small garden filled with perennials and irises seemed well-maintained.  The walkway was clean, and there was a Honda Civic parked outside.

               “My parents are in Montauk right now,” Sunghoon says, leading you into his home. He fumbles with his keys before successfully opening his newly-painted door.

               “Where’s Shay?”

Sunghoon shrugs. "At work. We don't live together right now, but she might come over soon to visit me before my meeting." When you walk inside, you’re greeted with its simple living room: a worn-out sofa sat against one wall, its once vibrant upholstery now faded and threadbare. Across from it, a scratched coffee table held a scattering of magazines and a remote control with missing buttons. The plasma TV looms on the wall, adjacent to the stairs.

               You kick your shoes off and line them up by the door.

               “Cute,” Sunghoon mumbles. Then he clears his throat. “Come upstairs, to my room.”

               You follow him up the carpeted stairs to his room, which bears the childish scribble “STAY OUT” in black Sharpie. You point at it and snicker.

               “I had to let everyone know I wasn’t fucking around,” he says with a laugh.

               “Did this deter your sister at all?”

               Sunghoon sighs. “No. She would just come in here and take my things. Really grinded my gears.” As you enter his room, taking in its sheer normalcy, he continues talking. “Once, when I was in the living room watching a movie with my parents, she ran down the stairs and started shrieking. She was like, ‘I found something in Sunghoon’s room!’ and she was hollering. I got so scared, because I used to keep my stash in my sock drawer-,”

               You stop ogling the various posters of movie characters that he had pasted around his room and turn to him. “Your sock drawer? Why?”

               Sunghoon shrugs. “Who would check the sock drawer? It’s foolproof. Anyways, I thought for sure that I was done for, when she yells, ‘I found a…bad magazine in there!’”

               “So what was it?” You lean against his tall wooden dresser.

               Sunghoon places his half-empty bottle of soda on his tidy nightstand and starts to rummage around inside its small drawer. “It was a Playboy that one of my friends had found in the woods. I had put it, like, under my bed.”

               “What’d your parents say?”

               Sunghoon finally retrieves the item he was trying to find, turning to face you with his hand clenched around something. “They were like, son, you can’t bring that into the house…we’re going to have to confiscate it…I found it in my dad’s side of the closet a few months later.”

               You laugh, crossing your arms. “You must have felt so slighted.”

               “I did,” Sunghoon says gravely. His face brightens, and he hops onto his twin-sized bed. “C’mere.” You oblige, politely making space. “Now close your eyes…”

               You roll your eyes, but you do what he says.

               “Open your hand…Now close your hand again. Now open it one more time…now close it again.”

               “Sunghoon.”

               “All right, damn. Open your hand, for real.”

               Something cold presses into your hand, with little rough edges. When you open your eyes, it’s a small piece of quartz. You hold it up higher, examining it. “A rock?”

               “Don’t you remember?” Sunghoon laughs. “You got so pissed at me for taking this from you. I think you had found it outside at school, and you got so angry. You did your usual, ‘Whatever, Sunghoon, routine, but you were pissed.”

               “So,” you begin slowly, rolling the quartz in your hands. “You brought me here for a rock?”

               Sunghoon pauses, then nods. “Yeah.” He scoots closer to you, his knee touching yours. “Is a rock so meaningless to you?”

               “It’s…fine. Imbued with memories.”

               “You’re such a shit liar. Just say you’re pissed at me.”

               You shrug. “I’m not pissed…”

               Sunghoon reaches behind you and snatches your phone, springing to his feet. “Are you pissed now?”

               “Oh, come on. Give it back,” you say, standing up as well.

               “Come get me,” he replies, running down the stairs with a laugh. You toss the piece of quartz back onto his bed and you chase after him, fighting a smile from spreading on your face.

               You finally catch up to him in his living room, where he’s tossing your phone from hand to hand. “Give it back, Sunghoon. You’re acting like a child.”

               Sunghoon dangles your phone above your head. “You’re acting like you’re too good for some fun. Come on, try to get it from me.”

               You unsuccessfully hop around, trying to snatch your phone from Sunghoon’s elusive grasp. He snickers at you like you’re a trained dog, and it pisses you off.  Eventually, you get so fed up you try to get him off his feet, tackling him to the carpet. Your phone goes flying out of his hands as he falls, and you reach out to get it. Sunghoon’s hands wrap around your waist, preventing you from leaving.  You turn to look at him as you hover above him, your knees on either side of his body. You and Sunghoon are behind his couch, obstructed from view if you walked in the house.

               Sunghoon looks as if he’s about to say something, but instead he gently presses your head towards him. It’s not a surprise when his lips meet yours, but the tenderness with which he kisses you is shocking. He sighs softly into the kiss.

Sunghoon takes his time, running his hands along your body. His gaze is almost analytical, his touch precise. He strokes your stomach, rubs your breasts, caresses your waist. One of his hands slides down your inner thigh, rubbing circles there with his thumb. His other hand cups your cheek, and he kisses you gingerly, as if he’s scared that you’ll disappear. Once he seems sure that you’ll stay, he parts his reddened lips and slips his tongue into your mouth. You massage his tongue with your own, your eyes flickering shut. Warmth spreads through your stomach, trickling to your fingertips.

               His cold hands slip under your shirt, and his fingers trail along your stomach. Sunghoon strokes your warm flesh, moaning slightly into the kiss. As you feel him groping your breast through your bra, you place your hand on his. “Stop,” you whisper.

               Sunghoon stops fondling you, but his hand still rests on your breast. “Why?” His voice is almost childlike in its disappointment, his dark eyes narrowed.

               “It’s wrong,” you say earnestly, “you have a girlfriend.”

               “Shay won’t know,” he whispers, butting his nose against yours. “This is just a one-time thing, just to finish what we started.”

               “It’s still cheating,” you say, circling your hand around his wrist.

               “So get up.”

               “Huh?”

               Sunghoon scoffs and continues to feel up your chest. “You don’t care. If you had cared, you wouldn’t have followed me into my house. You wouldn’t have come up into my room, you wouldn’t have tackled me to the ground. If you feel so strongly about cheating, then get up and leave.”

               You’re stunned, staring up at him. His response is to kiss your neck, licking at it. Sunghoon gently nips at a spot, and you whimper. “You know, that’s always been your problem,” he mutters. “Open your mouth.”

Still speechless, you timidly open your mouth. Sunghoon shoves two of your fingers inside. “Suck on these,” he orders.

               As you lick around his fingers, tasting his coppery sweat, he plays with your hair with the other hand. “Your problem is that you’re always pretending to be this impossibly good girl. It made me sick, seeing you laughing it up with other people when I know you didn’t like them, pretending to care when you don’t. How could I not press your buttons? Just once, I wanted you to admit it. I wanted you to show anger, sadness, something, anything. Any reaction besides indifference or your little smiles. I was so happy today, seeing you fight back. It only took five years…”

               Sunghoon pulls his fingers out of your mouth and uses the wetness to rub your nipples, looking you dead in the eyes. You whimper again, the coolness serving as a balm for your overheated body. “You remember the first week of freshman year, when our bus driver hit that rabbit?”

               You jerk your head away from him. “What?”

               “The rabbit,” he says insistingly, sliding his wet finger from your chest to your navel. “When it ran in front of the bus and it went flying. Everyone else was crying, or freaked out, or they made a joke out of it even though they were creeped out. But you didn’t react.”

               His gaze is piercing, and you swallow heavily. “Yes, I did. I cried.”

               “Fake fucking tears. I saw you, I saw you. I always see you. You were just sitting there, your face blank.” Sunghoon leans in and kisses your cheeks as if to punctuate his words. “Blank as. A. Fucking. Wall. Then you looked around at everyone else, and you started crying.”

               “So?” His hands have wrapped around your waist again. “What are you trying to say?”

               “That you don’t care,” Sunghoon whispers against your ear. He licks the shell of your ear, his tongue trailing down to the lobe. “And I love it. I always have.” Finally, he kisses your lips again, just as sweetly as before. “Tell me you care about Shay, right now. Tell me you care, and I’ll leave you alone.”

               Emotions swirl in your gut, and you realize that you don’t recognize any of them as guilt. “I don’t care,” you say, eyes widening in realization.

               “There she is,” he whispers before kissing you again, bringing you down so that your chest is flush with his. He runs his tongue on your teeth before breaking the kiss with a smack. Saliva drips out of his mouth, and his breath is heavy. “Why didn’t you let me have you back then?”

               “I was scared that I would have fallen in love with you,” you admit softly, your hands entangled in his dark locks. You kiss the moles adorning his face.

               “Probably a smart decision,” he says with a slight smile. “Is that still a risk now?”

               You shake your head. “No. I doubt this will have much impact on me at all, honestly.”

               “Fuck off,” Sunghoon says, now widely grinning. He flips you so that you’re underneath him, and his chain dangles in your face. You playfully bite it, tugging the chain so that Sunghoon’s face is close to yours. “When did you get so cute?” He kisses you again, the tenderness from before giving way to desire.

               “When you started noticing,” you say, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

               “Nah.” Sunghoon tilts his head and kisses you again, hands once more snaking under your shirt. “I always noticed you.” He starts to pull your shirt off and you help him. When you’re lying there, clad in your bra, Sunghoon pulls himself up, kneeling above you. His dark eyes are almost unreadable.

               “What is it?”

               “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, stroking your arms, your stomach, your chest with a reverence reserved for a marble sculpture. He unzips your jeans, and you shimmy out of them. Sunghoon smirks, then, giving your pink panties a gentle tap. “Nice undies, you cute little shit.”

               Your face reddens. “I wasn’t expecting anything…”

               “I meant it,” Sunghoon says, pulling off his shirt and sweatpants deftly. He tosses them over his couch. Your attention is drawn to his Iron Man boxers and you snort. “Don’t laugh. These were a gift.”

               “Who gifted you this atrocity?” You unhook your bra, putting it carefully next to your shirt.

               As you’re pulling your underwear off, Sunghoon quietly says, “Shay did.”

               Your first reaction should be to blush, to feel ashamed, something that indicates kindness. Instead, you laugh. “Shay has shit taste in more than just men, then.”

               Sunghoon grins, tugging his boxers off and tossing them away. “Is that so?” He grabs your arms and pulls you up so that you’re sitting. You get a glimpse of his cock; the tip is slightly red, but it’s still somewhat soft.

               “I can take care of that,” you whisper, nodding at it. You stretch your jaw out, but Sunghoon touches your chin.

               “Don’t,” he says, “I don’t want you to do that.”

               “You…don’t want me to suck you off?”

               He shakes his head. “No. I can’t make you do that. And don’t bother asking me why, I just can’t.” Sunghoon holds his hand out instead, palm facing up. “Spit.”

               You spit on his hand until he’s satisfied. He works his cock himself, staring straight at you as he does. “Don’t just sit there,” he says, his breath shuddering. So you hold out your hand, and he spits on it.

               You part your legs and rub your clitoris, your other hand fucking your walls. You try to keep your eyes on Sunghoon, but his eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy. “Open your eyes,” you say firmly. “Look at me.”

               When he does open his eyes, they’re filled with lust. His cock has hardened, and he slows his movements. He teases his reddened tip with his thumb as he watches you play with yourself. “God, you’re hot,” he whispers. “Are you ready?”

               You nod, and he grabs your hips, pulling you into his lap. You’re both sitting, his legs on either side of your body. Sunghoon kisses you one last time before teasing the head of his cock into your pussy, but he’s so hard that he has to press his thumb down to get it inside. Once he’s entered you, you hiss, adjusting to the feeling. “Does it hurt?”

               You get the sense that he’d like it if it hurt. “Yeah, a little.”

               “I’ll be gentle for you, baby,” Sunghoon murmurs, licking at the junction between your jaw and ear. He presses you onto his cock by your hips, getting you used to his length. When your arms wrap around his muscular, lean body, you notice Sunghoon smile widely. Once he’s fucked himself into you, you slowly shift up and down, but he stops you. “Let me do everything.”

               Sunghoon is gentle, his hips working in tandem with him pressing you onto his cock. His nails dig into your soft flesh, and he kisses your neck warmly. You had envisioned sex with Sunghoon more often that you cared to admit, but as your hands slipped down to touch your tender parts, you were imagining something rougher, something animalistic to match his antagonistic personality. But the way he’s treating you now, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, it feels alien.

               “So gorgeous,” he whispers, giving your ass a squeeze. “So perfect. So tight. You feel like a virgin.”

               “So this is what it’s like,” you murmur, reaching your hand down to lazily play with your clit.

               “Hm?” Sunghoon licks the underside of your jaw, his pace staying moderate. It’s as though he’s trying to leave a lasting imprint of himself inside of you. “This is what what’s like?”

               “Making love instead of fucking,” you reply.

               Sunghoon presses you down so that he’s on top of you. He kisses you sweetly, then plants kisses with exaggerated smacks down your body. He swats the hand playing with your clit away, replacing it with his own tongue. “So sweet.” Sunghoon grips your hips, holding you in place. Moans leave your mouth in stutters as he lavishes your clit with attention, sucking it into his mouth before swirling his tongue around the bead. When your moans become ragged, he pulls his face away, licking his lips theatrically.

               “Don’t stop,” you whine, but he places his lips on yours, the taste of your arousal seeping into your mouth. Sunghoon takes your wrists in one hand and holds them above your head. He uses his other hand to guide his angry cock into your pussy again. As soon as he enters it, he moans and his eyes close. “Don’t close your eyes, Sunghoon. Look at me.” Sunghoon nods, biting his lip.

               He thrusts into you slowly, even slower than last time. His pace is almost excruciatingly gentle. His tongue licks at your nipples, sucking them into his mouth. The entire time, he looks directly into your eyes, and his gaze scares you. It’s so caring, you could almost mistake it for affection. The possibility of what could have been gnaws at your insides.

               “Kiss me,” you say desperately. His lips find yours and he devours you hungrily, spit dribbling out of his mouth.

               “I should have run away with you,” he whispers, releasing your hands from his grasp. You hook one leg around his back and press him down onto you; you interlace your fingers with his, clasping your hands together. Sunghoon whimpers and continues fucking into you, picking up the speed. His hips snap against yours, and his balls slap against your thighs. “I should have just left with you.”

               “We were just kids,” you say, moving your hips up to match his movement.

               “You knew what you wanted,” he says. “You asked me to leave with you.”

               The wild look in his eyes, the desperation tinging his voice, the hope dripping out of his mouth prevent you from telling the truth. The truth that running away with him just seemed like the thing to say, that you would never spend your life with a man like him.

               “It would have been great,” you lie, kissing him so he’ll stop talking. Without warning, his cock twitches inside of you and you feel his hot cum spurting inside of you.

               “Shit,” Sunghoon says frantically. “You didn’t get to cum. Shit, shit. Sorry, I-fuck, sorry.”

               “It’s okay,” you say gently, but he’s already plunging two of his fingers into your pussy, shoving his cum up into your tired cunt.  His other finger rubs at your clit slowly and sensually, and you moan loudly.

               “I couldn’t hold it,” he says, “I wanted to finish with you.”

               “It’s okay.” When you cum, you try to moan performatively, tossing your head back. But your little show doesn’t please Sunghoon, who stares at you coldly.

               “You hated that,” Sunghoon says, resting on his knees.

               “I didn’t,” you say reassuringly. You rise from the ground; your knees hardly buckle.

               “I told you to stop lying to me,” he says, his expression like that of a kicked puppy’s.

               You sigh and crack your neck. “I’m going to use the restroom,” you say gently, leaving before he can protest.

               As you take a piss, you think about it. Why was it so unfulfilling? Was it too emotional? Why did he care if you finished so badly? It wasn’t that he was a bad lay, something just felt off. You clean his cold cum off of your thighs, wash your face, and step out of the restroom. As soon as you step out of the restroom, Sunghoon pins you to the wall. His hand presses your shoulders, and his voice is tremulous when he says, “You keep lying to me. Tell me the truth.”

               “The truth?” you sigh. “Fine. The truth is that I didn’t like that.”

               “You didn’t?” Sunghoon’s voice is cold.

               “Yeah.” You reach one hand out, shoving him slightly. Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and you swear you can see his nostrils flare. “It was too soft, too gentle. I hated it.”

               “I thought you would have liked that,” Sunghoon retorts, backing up as you walk towards him.

               “Why? Because I’m such a goody-two-shoes?” You push him again, and his legs hit the bottom step of his carpeted stairs.

               “Yeah,” he says, but there’s a glint in his eyes, and as you advance towards him his grin becomes more of a snarl. “I almost felt bad fucking you because you’re so…nice.”

               With one final push, Sunghoon stumbles backwards, lying naked on his stairs. You hover above him, and you take his cock into your hand. It’s slightly flaccid, which isn’t a problem for you. You tease the head in your folds, coating it with your arousal. You rub it on your inner thighs, introducing his red tip to your clit. Choked whimpers escape Sunghoon’s mouth, and his head is tilted back.

               “Look at me,” you order, and you lightly squeeze his shaft as a warning. Your other hand grabs his hair and forces his head up. His eyes snap open and burn holes into you. You continue rubbing his cock onto your clit, and your fingers slip from his hair to delve into your walls.

               “Fuck,” he ekes out, “stop fucking teasing me.”

               ��Or what?” Just to torture him, you ghost his tip over your opening. You don’t expect him to cant his hips up, shoving his cock into you. As you adjust to the change, Sunghoon pulls you on top of him. His hands run all over your body, stroking it, scratching it as he fucks you roughly. You moan loudly, your hands scrambling to find purchase. You dig your nails into his shoulders, not caring that Shay might see the marks you leave behind. That’s for him to explain.

               “There she is,” he says huskily. “I knew there was something in you, but I didn’t know it was a cock-hungry whore.”

               You lightly slap his face, grinding yourself onto his cock. “I’m not a whore.”

               He slaps you back, more of a tap than a hit. “Then why are you taking me like one?”

               You slap him again before mumbling, “Fuck you.” You bring his face towards yours and you kiss, sucking his tongue. He responds by shoving it so far down your throat you choke. Sunghoon pistons his hips up into you, his thighs smacking against yours as he stuffs his cock into you with fervor.

               Sliding off his length, you sit up on him instead. He remains lying down on the steps, squeezing the plush flesh of your ass as you adjust yourself. This time, when he enters you, he doesn’t stop you from riding him. You brace your hands on his strong thighs as you work his cock the way you want. “That’s right,” Sunghoon groans, slapping your ass hard. “Bounce on this cock. Been waiting for this for years.” He spits on his fingers and rubs your clit, causing your whimpers to turn into deep, throaty moans. Instead of his deep, slow strokes, he fucks you quickly, looking for his own pleasure.

               He pushes you off of him and stammers out, “Turn around, now, now.” He helps to spin you around so that your back rests on top of him. In this position, he can grab your tits and play with your clit easily. Sunghoon rests one leg on top of yours as he fucks into you, groaning at the way he’s stretching you out. One of your hands feebly reaches out and holds one of the spindles of the staircase to steady yourself, the other holding his head.

               Sunghoon presses sloppy, wet kisses along your neck, nibbling at the sensitive flesh. “Going to leave you something to remember me by,” he says lowly. “Remember who took this pussy the best.”

               “I’m close,” you stutter out, eyes fixed on his rosy, exhausted face. The heat rising inside of you is leagues different compared to the first time. It sets your nerve endings on fire, it contains all the longing, the confused emotions, the wasted potential.

               “Me too,” Sunghoon says with a low grunt. He slaps your thigh, and you slap his face, harder than last time.  “Kiss me, baby.”

               Your lips meet in a clash of teeth and a tangle of tongues. When you whine into his mouth, he speeds up his abuse of your clit. Your arousal must be soaking into the carpet at this point. Sunghoon’s thrusts grow erratic, frantic, and needy as he chases his own orgasm. His hips shudder, and with a strangled moan of your name, he pumps his cum into you for a second time.

               You cum shortly afterwards, your pussy clenching Sunghoon so tightly he can hardly move his softening cock out of you. You kiss him, savoring the taste of his lips. He wraps his arms around you and holds you so tightly. He kisses your cheeks over and over again, then your forehead, your chin, and finally planting a warm kiss onto your lips. You lie like that for a while on his steps, with his cock resting in you. Your breathing begins to match his, and as you lay on his chest you listen to his heartbeat. It goes from quick to even; you’ll have to leave soon.

               He offers to let you shower, you say no. You want to smell like sex, like him. He calls you a fucking weirdo. You ask him if he ever calls Shay a weirdo, and he says that he treats Shay like a princess. He asks you again if you want to shower.

               Sunghoon watches you gather your clothes. He orders you to leave the bathroom door open so he can watch you clean his cum from between your thighs, splash water on your face, and get dressed. He tells you to do a spin for him, and don’t you dare half-ass it. You spin slowly, and he smiles at you like you’re his.

               He offers to walk you to your car, you say no. You say that it would be horrible if Shay were to come home early from work and see us together, with me smelling like sex. He says that the whole house reeks of sex, and he’s going to have to deep-clean the stairs. You say that he shouldn’t have fucked you on the stairs, and he says that if you don’t get out now he’ll fuck you on the stairs, and on the couch, and on the floor, and in his bedroom, and he’ll die with his cock buried in you.

               You kiss goodbye, and his eyes look haunted. He tells you not to bother texting him, and you say that you weren’t planning on it.

               You stumble to your car, and when you drive away you swear that your town looks different now.