#I'm barely starting work on chapter 6

[monmonmage]

I made a Straw card with all the socials I'm using for fandom stuff! https://monmage.straw.page/

Its pretty bare bones, and I'll def decorate more later, but this does have a link to my twitter at least.

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 9

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Fingering, Breast Play / Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance.

A/N: Surprise! My little gift. There are 2 very explicit smut scenes here, so pls be warned! I've added a warning tag to the areas where the smut starts and ends for my non-smut readers. I finished this chapter earlier than I expected. My brain and hands just work faster when I'm writing filth? I'm also confused. Must be my uterus taking over the keyboard. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 9:

This Was Always Fate

A low groan echoes through the room, followed by Haneul’s familiar rasp. "Gotta steal her now, boys."

The others groan in protest, Jinu tightening his arm around your waist possessively. "Not fair." Seungho mutters darkly, still panting.

"We just got her," Hwimori grumbles, hand resting protectively on your thigh. 

"I’m still dizzy," Seoha mumbles, forehead resting against your shoulder. But they part reluctantly when Haneul strides in, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips. You giggle softly—completely spent, bare and glowing—as he scoops you into his strong arms like you weigh nothing.

“My turn to spoil our girl,” he says with a grin, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You nuzzle his chest, giggling again. “You guys are so dramatic.”

“You’re not even walking,” Jinu mutters from the bed, still sulking.

The bathroom is warm, glowing in amber light. Steam rises from the full tub, bubbles glistening. Candles flicker along the tiled edges. You blink, surprised. “All this… for me?”

“Of course,” Haneul says, placing you down gently on a plush bath mat. His voice lowers, tender but rough-edged. “Only the best for my princess. After all… you just took a beating.”

You gasp, lightly smacking his chest. “Haneul!”

He smirks and promptly slaps your bare ass in retaliation. You yelp, face flushed. “You’re awful!”

“Mmm. You love it.” He leans down to kiss your cheek before guiding you into the water, and you melt with a moan the moment your sore body sinks into the warmth.

“Oh my god…” you sigh, closing your eyes briefly. “This is heaven.”

When you open them again, you freeze. Haneul’s hands go to his waistband. He slides his sweatpants down, and your eyes widen— heart skipping. “Wait—”

He raises a brow, stepping into the tub behind you. His massive erection bobs proudly before he settles, smug. “Relax, baby. I’m just getting in to wash you.” Then, voice lower, eyes glittering with mischief he says, “Besides… it’s not my fault my cock loves the sight of you.”

You go red instantly. He chuckles, pulling you between his legs and kissing your temple. “You’re so damn adorable when you blush. Want me to go harder just to see that face again?”

You sink into him, hiding your face. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine,” he murmurs, nipping your ear. “Tomorrow night… I’ll be the one inside you. So behave, hmm?”

You shiver. He pulls you into his chest, his muscular arms cocooning you, your spine pressed to his hard torso. His hands are large and sure as they reach for a silk sponge, lathering it with soap.

“Can’t be gentle with the world,” he mutters softly against your ear, “but with you? I could spend forever doing this.” The sponge glides over your arms, your shoulders, your thighs. His touch is soft. Worshipful. He kisses your shoulder. “They made me a demon when I asked for vengeance. But now? All I want is peace. And you.”

Your heart warms at his words and you turn your head to kiss him softly. His eyes flutter shut, savoring the feel of your soft lips on his. “I want that too.” you whisper.

He smiles tenderly and kisses your cheek. You feel his fingers in your hair, dipping you back just enough. You close your eyes as he gently rinses your scalp, massaging soap into your roots with fingertips that once ended lives—and now tremble in devotion.

He kisses your forehead as he cradles you again, wet hair slicked against his chest. “I’ll never let you carry a burden alone again. You were meant to be held. Cared for. Cherished.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Seoha steps in, smirking, a fluffy towel in hand. His damp hair is pushed back and he's shirtless too—lithe and lean, his violet demon markings faintly glowing under his skin. “You two done hogging the afterglow?”

“Barely,” Haneul grumbles, but he lifts you anyway.

You squeak as you're lifted again, but melt into the feeling as Haneul kisses your cheek and passes you to Seoha. The latter demon catches you effortlessly, wraps the towel around your body, and leans down to press a kiss to your collarbone. “Our girl,” he murmurs, voice husky. “So fucking perfect.”

He dries you carefully, lovingly, fingers tracing your thighs, back, and hairline. “Arms up baby,”

You smirk and lift your arms. Seoha smiles down at you softly, dressing you in one of his shirts. He steps back to admire you for a moment. “Yep, definitely mine.”

You smile and squeak as he goes to lift you again, peppering your neck in kisses. You squeal as he walks you back into your bedroom. When you enter, you see the boys are waiting on your bed. All except Jinu who had gone to take a shower. 

And you’re finally clean, warm, safe—and utterly, irrevocably theirs. Seoha places you gently in the center of the mattress, like setting a crown upon velvet. Hwimori is on you in a second, crawling across the sheets with the urgency of a man who hasn’t seen you in weeks, not minutes. He wraps himself around you tightly—too tightly—and buries his face into your neck with a low, throaty sigh. “I liked your smell better before the bath,” he mumbles petulantly against your skin.

“Hwi!” you scold with a tired laugh, smacking his shoulder with what little energy you have. But your fingers curl into his bare skin anyway. You can't stop touching them.

Seungho chuckles from behind you, his large hands sliding around your waist like silk restraints. “You smell perfect. Like us. Like what you are.” His voice is starved. He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath hot and possessive.

Seoha climbs in beside you next, fingers combing through your damp hair like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. “You should sleep, baby,” he murmurs, his voice velvet and coaxing. “We’ll be here when you wake up. Always.”

Haneul leans against the headboard, eyes glowing faintly even in the dim light. He doesn't speak. He just watches you with that low-burning intensity, like he’s guarding the gates of your dreams. His fingers trail up and down your arm soothingly.

You feel them all. The soulbond pulses faintly beneath your skin—like lullabies in your bloodstream. Every touch, every breath they take, echoes inside your chest. Your eyes flutter shut and your body aches in the sweetest way. The sheets are soft, but their skin is warmer.

You fall asleep like that. Surrounded. Claimed. Devoted to. Four pairs of eyes watching your breathing slow. Four monsters-turned-men who would kill for you, burn for you, beg for you. Who have waited lifetimes just to hold you like this.

And tonight, finally, they do. You fall asleep, utterly satisfied, completely worshiped—and so, so deeply loved.

The door creaks open with a low whisper. Jinu steps in, towel draped loosely around his shoulders, hair still damp from the shower. Droplets of water still cling faintly to his skin, highlighting every muscle carved from centuries of waiting. His gaze immediately locks onto the bed. And he exhales a slow, amused breath.

You’re buried.

Hwimori curled tight against your back like a watchful wolf, his nose tucked behind your ear. Seoha cradling your upper body, fingers intertwined with yours. Seungho at your feet, long legs tangled in yours, his eyes open and burning low—like coals that never cooled. And Haneul. Towering. The biggest of them all, seated shirtless at the headboard with your head resting on his thigh, one calloused hand rhythmically stroking your hair like he was trying to lull himself more than you.

A ring of obsession. A shrine.

“Really?” Jinu mutters under his breath, wiping his hair with the towel. “No room for me now?”

“You already claimed her first,” Seungho murmurs, not even looking up. “Don’t be greedy.”

“You were the first inside her,” Seoha adds silkily, voice laced with teasing venom. “Let us have the rest of her for tonight.”

Jinu scoffs lightly, but there’s no real heat behind it. Just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He walks closer, gaze dropping to your sleeping form—peaceful, slack with exhaustion, glowing faintly in the candlelight. The soulbond’s threads shimmer like phantom silk across your chest, pulsing gently in sync with your breathing.

“She’s so small,” Haneul murmurs, brushing a finger along your cheek. “So fragile.”

“So perfect,” Hwimori whispers, nose twitching against your pulse. “She smells like us now. She’s ours.”

“She was such a good girl,” Seungho hums, eyes dark with memory. “She took Jinu so well. Took all of us… even if we weren’t inside her.”

“She glowed,” Hwimori sighs dreamily, pressing closer. “She glows when she comes. Did you see that? Like moonlight in her blood.”

Jinu chuckles low in his chest, towel now forgotten as he settles on the edge of the mattress. “Of course she glows,” he murmurs, brushing a finger down your thigh. “She’s the only light left in this cursed world.”

They fall quiet again, all of them now watching you breathe—like they’re memorizing it. Like they’ll carve it into their bones if they have to. And in the hush of the room, surrounded by monsters who’ve waited centuries to call you theirs…

You sleep. Unknowing. Loved beyond reason. And claimed far beyond saving.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The temple stones breathe in silence, the air ancient and slow. Candles sputter in deep alcoves where no wind reaches. Dust glows gold in the shafts of violet moonlight filtering through the cracks in the temple roof—witness to secrets that predate time.

Two figures sit in the shadows of gods long buried. 

“You saw her.” It isn’t a question.

“I did,” the first answers, voice dry and velvet-rich. “In the mall, of all places.” A pause. “She looked right at me.”

The second figure hums, his posture unreadable. “And?”

“A scared, fragile little thing,” a chuckle followed. “That beast arrived shortly after. He’s got sharp senses.”

The second one shifts slightly. “She’s merging with it, then?”

The first leans his head back against the stone. “Not just merging. She’s accepting it. That’s why this tether may actually hold.”

A pause.

“Unlike our friend.” The tone sharpens slightly.

The second sighs, old weariness pressing into his bones. “That was different. Daehyun was… misguided. He loved her.”

“Hmm,” the first murmurs, “Too much… enough to try the impossible.” 

“She was a hunter.” the second states.

“She was his heart.” 

Another silence follows, heavier now. “She wanted to bridge the worlds with him,” the first murmurs. “But you can’t open that gate without the right voices. Without all three. And you can’t forge a tether out of a soul already sworn to the hunt.”

“They tried anyway.”

“His mistake.” the first tutted.

The second tilts his head toward the shaft of moonlight. “And this one?”

A slow, wicked smile curves the other’s mouth. “She’s not broken. Not yet. She sees them. The demons. Not just what they show her—but what they are.”

The second hums, “And the demons?”

“They’re so lovesick they can’t see the storm coming.”

A low laugh, this time from both.

“The cursed king has no idea what he’s just allowed,” the first murmurs, more to himself. “He thinks the girl is a prize. A reward for obedience. He doesn’t know he’s handed them the match that could burn his throne.”

The second glances toward the moonlight. “Will it destroy him?”

“Not yet,” the first says. “But I have a feeling… this will not be like the last attempt.”

The second is quiet for a long while. Then, almost to himself, he says: “The Honmoon is fragile. Always was. Even now, it’s held together by borrowed will and borrowed song. It needs hunters to stay strong.”

“Which makes it mortal,” the first hums. “Fallible.”

There’s a long stretch of silence before the first’s eyes twinkle with promise. “She’ll choose them,” he says confidently. “Even the monstrous parts. Especially those.”

A silence that tastes like prophecy. And far away, curled in tangled limbs and soul-threads that shimmer with forbidden fate, a girl sleeps—still dreaming, still blind to what waits in the hollow places of the world.

But not for long.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sun barely filters through the thick blackout curtains, golden rays painting lazy stripes across the sheets. You stir, sore and drowsy, cradled against warmth. The sheets shift behind you, and a deep voice rumbles in your ear, low and teasing.

"Good morning, gorgeous," Seoha purrs, voice still laced with sleep.

You blink, turning in his arms to face him. His hair is a tousled mess, and his amber eyes shine with lazy affection. You smile, stretching slightly, only to wince at the soreness in your thighs.

"What time is it?" you mumble.

"Half past eleven," he says, trailing his hand over your side. "We let you sleep in. You needed it after last night."

Your cheeks burn, but you smile. "I feel good. Well rested."

Seoha grins, mischief curling on his lips. “Good to hear.”

And then— He grinds his hips forward, letting you feel the hard ridge of his morning wood press into your belly. You gasp. "Seoha!"

"Mmm?" he hums, mouth dipping to your jawline. "I already know what I want for breakfast."

───────── SMUT ─────────

His hands trail up, cupping your breasts, kneading them gently. You moan as his thumbs circle your nipples. "You were so good for us last night," he whispers, grinding against you again. “Do you know what you do to me?”

“Hmmm,” you mumble in reply at the sweet feel of his touch. You could get used to this.

His touch feels like fire on your skin. He peels his shirt off your frame, letting it pool at your back. "I love you in my clothes," he mutters, eyes dark, "but I love you more like this. Bare. Mine." He dips his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling until you're gasping, writhing under him. His fingers trail downward, slipping between your legs. 

"So wet for me already, angel?"

You nod, breath catching as the bond flares to life, your body responding to his like it’s wired into your bones. You shouldn’t be this turned on first thing in the morning, but here you are. A victim to their touches.

"I’ve been patient," he murmurs, pushing one finger into you. You moan. Yep, you could definitely get used to this. "Watched them have you. Waited my turn. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?"

His fingers curl just right, stroking your walls in all the places that need them, and you bite your lip, crying out softly. He groans, adding another finger. He moves above you now—shirtless, gorgeous. His skin is back to its normal hue. Defined muscle ripples beneath violet demon markings that stretch like painted desire across his arms and chest. 

The bulge in his sweatpants strains. He fingers you harder, his muscular arm tensing between your thighs. Seoha’s other hand cups your breast, squeezing gently as his eyes rake your body. "So fucking beautiful," he breathes. “I’ve dreamed of this for centuries. I’ve died and lived for this. For you.”

Your body arches as he curls his fingers again, and you come with a broken cry, shattering in his hand. Seoha watches you unravel, moaning softly. Watching your beautiful face contort in pleasure almost short-circuits his brain.

He brings his slick fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean of your juices. "Fuck, you taste divine. I need to be inside you. Now." He growls, pulling down his sweats and your breath catches. Of course he was huge. These demons would be the death of you.

"Jesus. Are all of you like this?"

He smirks, palming himself. "We’re made for you, baby. Every inch."

He positions himself, placing his cock against your stomach—showing you just how deep he’ll reach. It sits just below your navel. Holy mother of-

"You’ll take all of it," he says, low and commanding. "And you’ll love it."

He kisses you deeply, possessively, claiming your mouth as his. Then he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. You pant up at him and bite your lip, helpless, and watch as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch of him stretching your walls. You gasp, your legs shaking as you adjust to the sheer size. "So tight," Seoha groans, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re perfect. Fuck, you were made for me.”

Tears prick your eyes from the fullness. He kisses your face, murmuring soft praises. It would take time getting used to having all of them this way. 

"Just breathe, baby. Let me in. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you."

When he bottoms out, he lets out a guttural moan. His forehead touches yours, his breath ragged. He stays like that for a moment, eyes shut. Savoring the feel of the very thing he’d been waiting for across lifetimes. 

Then he starts to move.

At first, it’s slow. Torturously slow. Like he’s savoring every inch, memorizing the shape of your body from the inside. You feel everything. Every inch he gives you, every twitch of his aching cock. How it molds you from within. 

You whimper. "Faster. Please."

"You sure you know what you’re asking for, angel?" he asks, voice like gravel. His eyes burn like fire. Like any confirmation from you would make him snap. 

You nod.

He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in. You cry out, jolting up the bed, head tipping back. The force rocks you, pleasure flooding your senses.

And then— He sets a punishing pace. Not rushed. But hard. Each thrust drives deep, filling you over and over. The wet sounds of your sex echo through the room. Seoha groans against your neck, snapping his hips tight against you with a heavy slap each time.

Your hands claw at his that were holding them down. You’re moaning, sobbing, drowning in the sensation. "So good," he growls. "Taking it all like a good girl. Letting me fuck you open."

He bites your shoulder, hips relentless. You’re trapped beneath him, pinned and possessed. Taking all that he gives you, and it was almost too much. Then he pulls back, grabs your knees, and pushes them to your chest putting you into a mating press.

Your eyes roll with this new position as you feel him drive in deeper. Reaching places you never even knew you had. You squeal. "Seoha—ah—wait—!"

"No more waiting, baby," he snarls. "You’re mine. My turn. My reward. My love." Every sentence he says with a hard thrust of his hips. His patterns glow brighter and the force of his thrusts knocks the wind out of you. His thrusts are brutal, deep. You gasp, seeing stars.

"You were made for this. For me. Say it."

"Yours," you breathe.

He fucks into you harder. "Say it again."

Tears form in your eyes. You grit your teeth in need, desperation. "I’m yours, Seoha. Always."

"That’s right," he growls. "Let everyone hear who you belong to."

You feel your climax building, fast and sharp. He feels it too, in the way your pretty pussy flutters around his shaft. He groans. "Come for me, baby. Give it to me. Everything."

"Seoha—please—I—"

You break.

White-hot bliss crashes over you. You scream his name, your fingers grip and claw at his hand pinning them down over your head.

Seoha’s roar splits the air. He drives in one final time and stills, burying himself to the hilt as he cums deep inside you. His hips jerk, filling you. "Take it," he groans. "Take all of me. I want you leaking with my cum. Marked. Mated. Filled."

You’re panting, whimpering at the aftershocks of your orgasm. You shouldn’t feel alive, but you did. More alive than you ever have in your life before they came into it. He trembles above you, kissing your face. Whispering sweet praises. "You’re everything. You’re mine. I’ll never let you go."

He stays in you for a moment, savoring the warmth and the bond, and the feel of you wrapped around him. Like he didn’t want to leave. Then, he gently pulls out, cradling your body in his arms.

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

You’re breathless, slick in sweat, but deliciously satisfied. You look up at the man who holds your heart and both break into a smile. Morning sex, huh. Who knew it would feel this good?

You bury your head in his slick chest. “Well, that’s one way to start the day.” 

He chuckles breathily and smirks in your hair. “We could make it an everyday thing…” 

You’re about to retort when a knock on the door interrupts. "Brunch is ready, lovebirds!" Haneul calls through the door. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

Seoha sighs, smirking. "Time to eat, baby. Trust me—you’ll need the energy to survive the rest of the day."

You pout up at him adorably as he lifts your arms to put his shirt back on you. “I don’t know if my legs work…” 

Seoha breaks into a grin. Fully aware of how he has himself wrapped around your finger. “That’s how I know I did my job. Come on– up we go!” He lifts you up into his arms and you wrap yours around his shoulders with a smile. Now this princess treatment, you could use everyday.

The scent of freshly cooked food wafts in the air as Seoha carries you bridal-style out of the bedroom, one arm tucked firmly beneath your thighs and the other against your back like you’re something too precious to touch the ground. Which, to them, you are.

The moment you enter the open living area, the boys stir like predators catching your scent. Haneul is behind the kitchen island shirtless, golden skin glowing as he flips something in a pan like it weighs nothing. Seungho leans against the kitchen wall nursing a coffee, wearing only grey sweats that hang deliciously low on his hips. Jinu’s already seated at the table in a black tee and dark pants, his hair still damp from a shower, looking every bit like the regal leader he is. And Hwimori—your lap seat for the day—is already in the dining chair, fidgeting eagerly in a soft hoodie and shorts, eyes wide and hungry like he’s been waiting hours just to hold you.

“Good morning, princess,” Jinu greets, lifting his mug. “Sleep well?”

“More like slept like the dead,” Haneul adds with a smirk.

Seoha grins devilishly. “Made sure of that.”

There’s a sudden smack as Seungho casually slaps the back of Seoha’s head as he walks by. “Too early for your mouth, loverboy.” 

You’re placed gently into Hwimori’s lap, and the demon nearly vibrates with delight. The moment you settle, he buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply like you’re his favorite scent. “You smell so good like this,” he mumbles with a purr, voice low and worshipful. “All used up.”

Your cheeks flame as you mumble, “Good morning…” shy and small, eyes darting to each of them. The room softens. Their eyes don’t just look at you—they devour you. Dote. Adore. Like you’re something they dreamed into existence and still can’t believe is real.

They’ve tasted you. Worshipped you. And they’re already addicted. Jinu leans forward and takes your hand, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

You glance at all of them, heat rising to your cheeks. There’s concern in their eyes, protective and possessive, laced with love so fierce it could tear cities apart. You smile softly. “I feel amazing.”

Hwimori nuzzles your temple, purring louder now. That one sentence makes all of them exhale in relief. “That’s our girl,” Seungho mutters, watching you like he’s already planning his round.

From the corner of your eye, you see a massive blue tiger enter the dining room. You smile as he bumps his head to your lap affectionately. “Well, good morning to you too, Derpy.” 

The tiger spirit purrs as your hands scratch the back of his ear. From the window, you see the bird spirit in his tiny hat fly in, landing on Jinu’s shoulder. 

“Hey, hey, hey, no animals at the dining table!” Seoha jokes.

“Then why are you here?” Seungho mumbles.

With perfect timing, Haneul sets a massive brunch plate in front of you—eggs, salmon, avocado, lean sausages, fruits, yogurt, oats. “Whoa. That’s… a lot of protein,” you blink.

He winks. “Of course. Don’t want you breaking on us now.”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief and Seungho adds dryly, “Consider it meal prep.”

“… And I’m the meal?”

Seoha leans in and steals a bite from your plate—only to pass it into your mouth with his own, kissing you as you chew. “Always.”

From Jinu’s shoulder you swear the bird groaned.

You let out a helpless little whimper, cheeks flushed. “You guys are too much… I feel like I’m being fattened up for sacrifice.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Jinu says, setting a tall green smoothie before you. “Energy booster. You’ll need it.”

You’re overwhelmed—in the best way. Loved. Held. Fed. You’ve never been pampered like this before. No one in your past life… no one in this life. Slowly you begin to ponder, being soulbonded to five demons isn’t hell. It’s heaven.

You let them feed you—Hwimori slipping fruit into your mouth, Jinu dabbing your lips with a napkin, Seoha licking syrup off your fingers on purpose. The animal spirits have now gone to lounge on the balcony to soak up some sun. 

You’re glowing… until something shifts. You stiffen. There’s something… damp between your legs. Your eyes widen in horror.

You’re still in Seoha’s shirt. No underwear. And his cum is leaking out of you. On Hwimori’s lap. You squirm instinctively.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Jinu asks, voice immediately alert.

“I—um—I just need to grab some underwear real quick—”

Hwimori’s arms tighten around you. “No,” he murmurs, confused but unwilling to let go.

“I really need it—”

A pause. Hwimori blinks once. Then whispers, “Seoha’s seed is leaking out of her.”

The entire table stills. And Seoha? He just laughs.

You whimper and shrink into Hwimori’s arms, mortified, you smack his chest. “Hwi!”

“Guess I stuffed her too full,” Seoha drawls.

“Seoha!” You scold, burying your face into Hwimori’s hoodie.

The boys don’t mock you. They don’t laugh. They grin. Wicked, possessive, and hungry. Seoha brushes your hair aside, lips on your ear. “I should be angry it’s leaking out.”

“But that just means,” Seungho says, licking syrup from his thumb, “we’ll have to fill you again.”

You stare at them, flustered and horrified. “Okay, okay, can I please just eat breakfast in peace?”

They chuckle, and Jinu presses a gentle kiss to your hand. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed, princess.”

“Let’s keep her cute forever,” Seungho murmurs, rubbing a lazy hand over your bare thigh.

Breakfast continues—with less scandal and more pampering—until your curiosity gets the better of you. “So… what are your plans today?”

Jinu sighs. “I’ve got some idol management stuff to deal with. Schedules, planning.”

“Just you?”

“No. Seoha’s coming too.”

Seoha freezes mid-bite. “What?”

“You didn’t check the group chat?” Haneul smirks. “Oops.”

“Why do I have to go?” Seoha protests.

“Because you and Jinu already had your turn,” Seungho replies flatly.

You snort and cover your face with your hands. “Oh my god.” You look around at the others… the way they’re still eyeing you. Yep. You have a full day ahead. A small part of you flutters in excitement. Like perhaps Christmas came early, or your birthday…

Then, a thought pops up. “Wait… when are your birthdays?”

They blink. “That’s random,” Haneul mumbles, biting into a piece of toast.

You shrug with a smile. “How can I be soul-bound to all of you and not even know when your birthdays are?”

Seoha hums, swirling his juice lazily. “Fair point. Though mine was... what, centuries ago? I’ll have to dig deep.” The table falls into a thoughtful silence as they each search their long memories for scraps of their past lives.

Jinu is the first to speak. “September 16,” he says quietly, his golden eyes far away. “The harvest season. My mother used to say I was born under the sign of order… but destined to bring chaos.”

Seoha tilts his head. “November 7,” he murmurs. “It rained that day. I remember because my mother cried, said the sky was mourning early.”

Haneul grins, drumming his fingers on the table. “March 28. I remember the trees were just starting to bloom. I used to climb them to steal fruit.”

Seungho grunts. “October 9. That year, a fire broke out the night I was born. My dad said it was an omen.”

Then, all eyes shift to Hwimori. He stiffens slightly, the fork pausing halfway to his mouth. “I... don’t think I have one,” he says softly. “Spirits aren’t born the way you are. I just... came into being.”

You frown at that, expression turning thoughtful. “Then let’s give you one.”

Hwimori blinks. “What?”

You smile. “A birthday. We’ll choose a date. And celebrate it. This week, even.”

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of something ancient and soft crossing his face. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” you say, reaching to brush his head. “You deserve to be celebrated too, Hwi.”

His lips twitch into a small, stunned smile, and he leans in, nuzzling your neck with a purr. “You really are too good for me.”

The others watch with softened expressions, and Jinu murmurs, “Okay, angel. Let’s do it. We’ll throw him a birthday.”

Seoha raises his glass. “To Hwimori’s first birthday—and our girl with the golden heart.”

Brunch goes on as usual. Eventually, Jinu and Seoha rise to leave. Seoha, of course, makes a production of it. He throws himself dramatically across the couch. “Tragic. Ripped away from my goddess at her peak of fertility.”

You throw a napkin at his head. “You’re so dramatic.”

He grins, snatches your wrist, and peppers kisses across your cheeks, forehead, nose and neck. “I’ll miss you. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Jinu’s goodbye is quieter. He cups your face gently and presses his forehead to yours. “Be good, love,” he murmurs. “Call me if any of them step out of line.”

“I will.” You kiss him softly. “Come home soon.”

When the door closes behind them… you’re left with Haneul, Seungho, and Hwimori. They’re standing there. Staring. Smirking.

You clear your throat. “I’m going to… paint. See you guys later!”

And then you bolt. The sound of three possessive demons groaning behind you chases you down the hall.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You're painting in your studio—lost in color, the strokes of the brush calming the flutter in your chest. Beside you, Derpy and Birdie take a nap, lulled by your quiet humming (and the tiger also being used as your fluffy backrest).

It’s been two hours, maybe more. After your shower, you hadn’t bothered putting on much. Just Hwi’s oversized hoodie���left for you without a word—and your panties. You’d forgotten to grab clothes, and somehow it felt right to wrap yourself in something that smelled like them. Like home.

Your bare legs are flecked with paint when your stomach growls. You set the brush down, stretch your arms, and yawn. Time for a snack.

Padding barefoot down the hallway, you slip into the kitchen, rubbing at your eyes—only to find Seungho already rummaging through the cabinets.

“Think you can run and hide from me, princess?” His voice curls into your spine before his hands do—warm and possessive as they wrap around your waist. His lips brush your neck and then he licks a slow stripe up your skin.

You shiver. “I wasn’t hiding. Just… painting.”

“Mmm.” He pulls back with a dark smirk. “Did you want a snack?”

You nod, lips parted. “Yes please.”

He grabs a bag of chips from the shelf while you open the fridge and grab a Yakult. “Where are the others?” you ask.

“Haneul’s in the gym. Hwimori’s in the studio. Want me to take you there?” He sounds casual, but his fingers tighten subtly at your hip.

“I’m okay,” you say softly, slipping a second Yakult into your hand, then a third. You hand him one. His eyes gleam, but he kisses your head and passes you the snack.

You squeak out a “Thank you!” and he just watches you walk away with that lazy predator grin, the one that makes you feel like you’re being hunted even when they let you go.

You head down the hall. Quiet. Curious. You press your hand against the gym door and gently ease it open—and freeze.

He’s there. Haneul. Shirtless. His massive frame is haloed in sunlight streaming from the tall windows. Broad back glistening with sweat. Skin flushed. Muscles carved from something godlike and brutal. He’s lifting an enormous barbell over his shoulders—something impossibly heavy—like it’s nothing but air. His biceps bulge with each curl, veins dancing across his forearms, his expression taut with focus. He doesn’t see you yet.

He’s wearing just sweatpants that hang low on his hips, clinging to his thighs in all the right ways. You swallow, hard. Your heart stutters, your thighs clench. You stare. Awestruck. A little dizzy.

The bond tugs tight inside you—want, need, hunger. You try to step back but knock into the doorframe with a soft thud.

His head turns and he spots you. A smirk creeps across his face. Slowly, deliciously dangerous. He pulls his earbuds out. “Like what you see, baby?”

You nearly drop the Yakults. “I—uh—was just… checking in. And I brought you something?” You hold out the tiny bottle, a weak defense against the wall of man walking toward you.

He doesn't stop. Each step feels heavier than the last, weighted with tension. The air thickens. He’s got that look in his eyes—the one that says he’s barely restraining himself. “You always sneak in when I’m sweating,” he says lowly, crowding into your space.

“It’s not on purpose—” you start, heart thudding, but your back hits the wall. He plants one thick forearm beside your head, trapping you gently. The muscles ripple with residual effort, still swollen from the workout. His other hand lifts the Yakult from yours without breaking eye contact.

“Then why,” he murmurs, leaning in, voice deep and slow, “are you looking at me like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me?”

You glance down, lips parting. He’s massive. His chest is heaving from exertion, abs slick and hard and rising with every breath. His skin is warm with heat and smells like salt and cedar and something purely Haneul. He’s so close. You can see the droplets trailing down his throat.

You murmur, breath hitching, “You look… strong.”

He tilts his head. His smile sharpens. “I am strong,” he replies—and then, lower, filthier: “Wanna know what else I’m good at carrying?”

Your breath stutters as he brushes a knuckle down your jaw, then trails a line of his sweat along your throat. Your whole body shivers. He sees the way your legs press together. The way you try not to stare at his glistening chest. The way you bite your lip.

He growls, soft and low. “You make me lose my mind,” he whispers, voice rough with want. “You walk in here looking like that—wearing someone else’s hoodie and nothing underneath? You know what you do to me, baby?”

Your lips part to say something. Maybe a tease. Maybe a denial. But you don’t get the chance. Because then— His hands are suddenly at your waist, and you’re lifted off the floor like you weigh nothing at all.

His palms span your thighs, strong and sure as he settles you on the padded wall mat behind you, pinning you in place with the sheer size of his body and the searing heat of his skin pressed against your inner thighs.

Your breath hitches. He’s panting too. Face flushed. A tremor in his hands that betrays how close he is to losing control. His hips grind forward—and you feel it.

Hard. Huge. Heavy against your core.

You gasp. And Haneul? He moans. Head dropping into the crook of your neck, nose dragging up the side of your throat, lips ghosting your ear. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life,” he murmurs. Then pulls back to look at you.

Your cheeks are flushed. Your thighs trembling. And he smiles like a wolf who’s about to feast.

───────── SMUT ─────────

“Haneul… please—”

His eyes gleam like molten gold at the sound of your voice, raspy and wrecked already. You’re trembling, pressed up against the wall with your thighs bracketing his waist. His hands, massive and hot, grip your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “Please what, baby?” His voice is rough silk. Teasing. Dangerous. “You want me to touch you? Is that it?”

You nod, breath shallow. Your mind is spinning, body too sensitive, too hungry to form words. Every inch of him is overwhelming—broad shoulders gleaming with sweat, chest heaving as he takes you in like he’s starving.

His hand slides down, fingers brushing the soaked curve of your panties. He curses under his breath. “Fuck,” he growls. “Look at you. So wet… just from seeing me like this?”

You can’t respond. He sees the haze in your eyes and smirks, feral.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “You’re trembling.” He brushes over the wet spot again, and your knees nearly buckle—even with him holding you up. “You always get like this when I’m near, huh? You need me that bad?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer. With one sharp motion, he tears the thin fabric at your hips—ripped clean like it was never there. His gaze darkens. His pupils dilate. “Been dreaming about this,” he breathes, hungry. “Been patient. Too patient.”

Without warning, he drops to his knees—still holding you up with terrifying ease. He lifts your legs over his thick shoulders, locking your thighs around his neck. You squirm, breath catching in your throat. “Wait—Haneul—”

But he’s already leaning in. Your back arches instinctively as his hot breath ghosts over you. His hands grip your thighs, firm and anchoring. His mouth brushes you, once, then again—soft, teasing strokes that have your fingers flying to his hair in a desperate bid to ground yourself.

And then he moans. It’s a deep, guttural sound that vibrates straight through you.

“Fuck,” he groans again, burying his face into you like a man possessed. His tongue moves with urgency, lapping and savoring like you’re the only sustenance he’s ever known. Your moans spill out, helpless and high, bouncing off the walls of the gym.

You clutch at his sweat-dampened hair, helpless. “Haneul—oh my god—”

He looks up at you, his eyes glowing gold, demon markings beginning to shimmer across his skin. There’s no humanity left in them now. Just hunger. Just you. “You taste like a fucking dream,” he growls, voice raw with emotion. “My dream. My girl. My everything.”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. You can barely breathe, the intensity building so quickly you feel like you’re going to fall apart—if he lets you. But he won’t. His grip only tightens. His arms keep you pressed to the wall like you weigh nothing. You can feel every drag of his tongue, every press of his mouth, every low, ruined sound he makes as he drowns in you.

“Haneul—! I’m–!”

He groans again at your unraveling voice, dragging his mouth against you like he needs this. Like he’ll die without it. His fingers dig into your hips possessively, keeping you right where he wants you. You come apart in his arms. Shaking. Crying out. Gripping his shoulders like a lifeline as your vision flickers white.

He doesn’t stop until you’re limp in his hold—wrung out and gasping. And when he finally pulls back, lips slick, his glowing eyes rise to meet yours again. He licks his bottom lip slowly. “You’re mine,” he whispers, voice shaking with love and lust and madness. “No one gets to taste you but us. No one ever will.”

He stands with you still in his arms. The look on his face is nearly unhinged—awed and worshipful and absolutely feral. His cock strains against his waistband. He then pulls down the garter and your eyes widen at the sight of his aching shaft. Thick and heavy, pressed between your bodies. You feel the heat of it. The weight of it.

He growls, looking down at the sheer size of him compared to your torso. He murmurs low in your ear: “You’re so small, baby… but you’ll take all of me, won’t you?”

You swallow. You’ve never wanted anything more in your life. You nod, whimpering, and he captures your lips in a devouring kiss that is almost primal. 

And then— he lifts you, lining you up to his shaft before he sinks into you. 

The stretch is slow. Deliberate. He groans as your walls begin to accommodate him, and your back arches at the sensation. You dig your nails into his shoulders, overwhelmed, gasping.

“Haneul—I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can and you will,” His voice is a soft growl. “You were made for me. For this. For us. You’re doing so well, baby.”

He inches deeper, his thick length filling you like nothing else ever has. The pressure, the fullness—it’s too much, too perfect. You almost sob as he sinks the last inch in and presses flush against you, fully seated. Fully inside.

Both of you still. His body trembles slightly, jaw clenched as he tries to rein in the animal urge to just take. But then he exhales, shaky. “So warm,” he whispers. “So tight. God—baby, you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.” He grunts, almost pained. “Don't worry princess, I'm gonna mold you to my cock.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, and then—he begins to move. Lifting you up to thrust back in. That thrust has you both leaning your heads back in pleasure. It’s slow. Measured. But you feel it everywhere—how he fills you, stretches you, claims you. You whimper as you take him. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter. The wall behind you shakes with each motion. Your moan escapes helplessly as your head tilts back, lost in the sensation. He growls, barely restraining himself. You see his large muscles flex and harden as he's thrusting into you.

And then he picks up the pace. Haneul pins your hips against the wall and starts jack-hammering into your heat. Going so deep you don't know where he starts and you begin. Harder. Deeper. Each thrust slams into you with devastating power. Your cries mix with his groans, the slap of skin echoing in the gym like music only the two of you can hear.

He buries his face in your neck, biting gently. His sweat mingles with yours. You cling to him as if you might fall apart—and maybe you will.

“You feel that, baby?” he pants, hips snapping into yours. “That’s me. Deep inside. Where only I get to be.”

Your legs quake as the pleasure builds again, sharp and hot. You can barely form words. But he watches your face, obsessed, ravenous, utterly in awe. “You’re taking me so well. My perfect girl. My good girl.”

He thrusts harder—faster. Then pauses, just for a moment, to look down between your bodies. A low, wicked chuckle leaves his lips. Eyes glittering in awe like he’s mesmerized as he watches himself disappear inside you— so deep in this position that it forms a bulge in your stomach. He curses at the sight. “Look at that,” he murmurs, stroking a hand over your belly. “You can see me, baby. I’m so deep.”

You gasp, breath caught. The pressure there is insane. He palms it again, groaning. “God, you’re gonna break me,” he moans. “Or I’m gonna break you.”

You cry out as he slams into you again, pace wild now. Controlled only by the need to make you his. To brand you. Body and soul.

He watches himself disappear inside you, over and over. "Where do you feel me, baby? Tell me." 

You whimper, "So deep- In my tummy, Haneul-" 

He growls at that and goes harder. You moan, holding onto him for dear life as the sounds of your lovemaking fill every inch of the room. He thrusts into you and lifts you as if you weigh nothing. Like a ragdoll. Your nails dig deeper into his back at the pleasure and he groans, leaning in to bite your shoulder, grunting, sheen with sweat, as he fucks you against the wall. 

You feel the coil in your stomach tightening and plead, "Haneul— I'm— I’m–!"

"I know baby." he moans, angling his hips higher to reach a spot within you that has you seeing stars. You squeal. He's lost all control and sense of reason at the feel of you wrapped around him.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave—sharp, sweeping, uncontrollable. Your body clenches around him and he snarls against your ear. “That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grits out. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

You’re sobbing his name, fingers clawing into his back as he keeps thrusting, desperate now. His rhythm stutters. And then—he groans, long and broken, thrusting deep one final time. His body shudders. You feel it. Heat. Flooding. Filling you. His breath catches as he presses deep, holding you flush as his arms tremble with restraint. 

“You’ll take all of me,” he pants. “Every drop. Fill you so full, it’ll drip out all day unless I plug you up myself.”

You moan softly as his lips ghost over your skin, worshipping. Repeating praise in a voice cracked by emotion. “Such a good girl. You’re mine. You’re mine.”

Your heart pounds against his. And for the first time in your life, you believe—truly—that no one could ever love you like this. Not with this much fire. Not with this much worship.

Not the way Haneul does.

You’re both panting. The world outside the gym doesn’t exist—just the sound of Haneul’s uneven breathing, the rapid beat of your heart, and the heat between your tangled bodies. Your arms are still wrapped around his thick shoulders, your legs draped over his waist, and he’s still inside you. Warm. Heavy. Pulsing with the last tremors of release.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, voice low and raw. “Took everything I gave you. You always do.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then nuzzles your temple with his damp forehead.

Without pulling out, he carefully turns and lowers both of you to the gym mat. He leans back against the wall, cradling you in his lap like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“Just… wanna stay like this for a while,” he says, still breathless. His arms wind tightly around your waist, keeping you flush to his chest. “Wanna plug you up a little longer, baby.”

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

You let out a breathless laugh, burying your face into his neck. He smells like sweat, warmth, and something distinctly him—earthy, masculine, grounding. Your fingers gently comb through his damp hair, and his hold on you tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

He exhales softly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. Having you. Holding you like this.”

Your hand gently cups his cheek. “You don’t have to get used to it,” you murmur. “Just… stay.”

He leans into your palm, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I used to dream of this,” he admits. “Back then… when I didn’t know if I’d ever find you again. I’d close my eyes and try to remember what you felt like in my arms. Now that you’re really here—” His voice falters. “—I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go.”

You smile, pressing your forehead to his. “Then don’t.”

A warm, almost disbelieving smile curls on his lips. “Careful,” he whispers, “I take things literally.” You chuckle, and he hums, shifting slightly to adjust you in his lap without slipping out. His arms tighten around you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, bodies slick with sweat, hearts steadying in each other’s arms. You feel safe in his hold. Worshipped. Like every inch of you is wanted beyond reason.

Eventually, he shifts, still holding you. “Alright, princess,” he says, lips brushing your neck. “I should probably start dinner… though…” he cups your hips and gives you a teasing little grind. “…you’re already pretty full.”

You groan and swat his shoulder, and he chuckles, kissing your sternum as he starts to gently lift you off him.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers with a wicked grin. “I’m sure you’ll still have room for dessert.” TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

A/N: Wow, my ass was clenched when writing this. I kid you not, my hands flew so fast on the keyboard at the pure filth in these smut scenes. But also, I sprinkled in some fun love scenes too + more plot points tying in now. And I'm sorry I just- Abby? Hello?! Size kink go burrrr. I had to, I had to. I'm not even sorry.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Any bets on who's claiming next? ;) Next chapter will have more smut again just because we obviously have two more men waiting patiently for their turn, and then the conflicts will roll in a bit more as shit will start to get real. Let me know what you guys think of the chapter in the comments! Reblog, Like, etc. I appreciate it all. <3 Much love MWAH Willa x

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[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 11

Summary: James has had time to think during the days he'd been away and through this, has come to a shocking revelation.

CW: Swearing, creepy man being unnerving (nothing inappropriate happens though).

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

This is a shorter one but I just wanted to get something out. I have more of a solid plan now of what I want to happen next to stay tuned for some more updates soon!

--

You started to feel better over the next few days. Remus checked on you periodically to make sure you were making progress while Sirius hovered awkwardly, not quite sure what he was supposed to do whenever the two of you happened to be in the same vicinity.

You weren't sure what had come over him recently, but things between the two of you had been stilted to say the least.

By Wednesday you were back on your feet and back at work, meaning Remus' job was done, however, you desperately hoped that things between the two of you would continue to be civil in the aftermath. Who knows? Maybe you'd even become friends.

James was also getting home from his trip today and you were bubbling with a combination of nerves and excitement. You'd found yourself missing him while he was away. Everything had been strange, to say the least and James was the person out of all your roommates who you were the most comfortable around by far. He just had this light energy about him that was able to balance everything out around your house and without it, things had just felt off. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was but James Potter just had a way of putting you at ease.

Although, you couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for wanting him there for your own selfish purposes. You knew things had been particularly rough for him after the revelation at New Years and you knew he needed this time to get away from everything and clear his head.

You pondered this concept as you sat back in your desk chair, pen pressed into your cheek and eyes gazing off to nowhere. When did things become so complicated? you thought to yourself.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Mary sang, sliding across the linoleum office floor on her own chair. Mary was always pretty but you took note of it today in particular. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a tidy bun and she had a burgundy lipstick on, one that was a departure from the usual neutral tones she went for at work.

You raised a brow at her, choosing to pass by her question.

"You look lovely. Got plans tonight?"

Mary bit her lip as she often did when she was excited.

"It's Lily and I's four month anniversary tonight! I know it sounds silly to celebrate it but if I'm being honest, it's kind of a big deal! Today marks the longest official relationship I've been in!"

"Oh my gosh! Mary, that's wonderful!" you chirped. Then you paused. "Hold on, what do you mean 'official relationship'?"

Mary sighed. "Well, technically there was this guy in high school that I talked to for like a year over Snapchat but he lived in America and we never met in person so it doesn't really count."

You rolled your eyes at her fondly. "You had an internet boyfriend?"

She gave you a gentle slap on the shoulder. "What? I was like fourteen!"

"Okay, fine. Whatever. Congratulations anyway," you replied.

"Thanks girl! Now tell me," she scooted forward slightly on her chair, leaning in as if to share a secret. "What's going on with you and Sirius?"

You sighed thickly. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to tell."

"Really?" she looked surprised. "So you still haven't talked about anything that happened on New Years... or you know, before that?"

You shook your head. "Nope. In fact, honestly, we've barely talked at all recently. It's like he's avoiding me or something."

"That's is odd," Mary muttered. "I mean Sirius isn't usually known for being subtle. For some reason I had it in my head that maybe he would've gone all prince charming and come to your aid while you were ill," she chuckled.

"Ha! No, none of that. Every time we were in the same room, he'd just stare at me like I had two heads and then stutter out some excuse to rush away."

Mary let out a genuine laugh at this. "Yeah, actually that does sound like him. He's uh, not really much of a caretaker."

"No. Well, actually, it was... um, Remus who ended up doing most of the caretaking," you muttered bashfully.

Her eyebrows shot up like rockets. "I'm sorry, WHAT? Did I just hear you say Remus, the man that supposedly can't stand you, looked after you while you were unwell this last week?"

You shrugged but you couldn't deny the way your cheeks warmed at the thought. "He was quite wonderful actually."

A playful smirk overtook her. "Yeah, I bet he was. What? Did he like, bring you soup, and stroke your hair until you fell asleep?"

"Shut up," you joked. "You read too many romance novels."

"Hey! It's not my fault that you're living out the plot of New Girl!"

"You know, it actually kind of is, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, maybe that was the plan all along. I think Remus would definitely be Nick-"

"Anyway," you stated pointedly, before her comparison could get too deep. "You should probably get going. It's after 5 and you don't want to be late for your special date tonight!"

"Oh, shit! You're right," she exclaimed, jumping from her chair and racing to grab her coat.

You chuckled to yourself as you watcher her scramble for her things, calling out a hurried "goodbye" as she headed for the exit.

You took your time packing up that night, both having nowhere to be and also not looking forward to going home. You wondered if maybe Sirius would be out working tonight but you doubted it since James was supposed to have arrived home today and you suspected they'd want to spend some time together.

"Are you heading off now then?"

You abruptly turned on your heel, eyes wide as you noticed Glenn standing closely behind you. You hated when he did that. He was always creeping up on you when you were distracted.

You gave him an awkward smile, hoping he would say a quick goodbye and then leave you be.

He returned the gesture broadly, flashing his perfectly pearly white teeth in a way that you could tell usually worked to make girls swoon. It didn't, however, work so well on you.

"Yeah. Just finishing up now."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. Well I see that Mary has made an early exit. Do you need some company walking out?"

You cringed internally. There was something just so artificial about him. Like he was constantly putting on an act, displaying qualities that he thought people liked to see. But you could see right through it and honestly, it left a bad taste in your mouth.

"That's very kind but I'm okay by myself."

He shook his head stubbornly. "Nonsense! What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go alone in the cold?"

You restrained yourself from rolling your eyes. Clearly it wasn't going to be so easy to shake him off.

"Okay, then," you relented unwittingly. "Lets go."

The walk from your office on the seventh floor down to the front exit was particularly awkward. Glenn hovered at your side, not saying much but just sending you that unnerving smile of his every so often. As you approached the front steps, you were more then relieved to see a familiar figure waiting by the door.

"James! What are you doing here?"

He looked up from his phone, flashing you a genuine grin, one that made your heart feel warm, instead of causing bile to want to rise in your throat the way Glenn's did.

"Hey!"

He approached with rapid footsteps, engulfing you in his warm arms. You relaxed into his hold for a moment, savoring the feeling.

You pulled away at the sound of a throat clearing beside you. Glenn was looking between the two of you with an unreadable expression.

"Oh! Sorry," James corrected himself, only then noticing the other man. "I'm James, Y/n's roommate. Nice to meet you."

He stuck a hand out towards Glenn, which the latter man shook with a reluctant hesitation.

"Glenn Mulciber. We work together."

You didn't like the way the man was looking at James, something akin to jealously flashing across his eyes in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Well, thanks for walking me out, Glenn but James and I'd better be going. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, right. Okay," was all he said before he turned on his heel and stalked away, his demeanor suddenly very cold.

"Well, he's an odd sort of person," James observed as the two of you began the journey home.

"I'm not a fan of his, to tell you the truth," you responded. "He's weird. He kind of creeps me out."

"Hmm," James muttered thoughtfully, although you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

"You don't have to keep coming to pick me up from work, you know? I'm perfectly capable of making it home myself."

James shrugged. "I know, I just like spending time with you."

You felt your heart swim at his words and had to turn your gaze away from him in the hopes that he wouldn't see the embarrassment on your face.

"Well, um... how was your trip?"

"Good. Yeah. It was good."

He was fiddling with the hem of his coat, looking vaguely off into the distance as he spoke to you. Something seemed off about him. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what was going on.

"Is everything okay?" you questioned. "You seem nervous or something."

"Um, well," he hesitated for a moment before turning to face you. "Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as a slew of worst case scenarios began to run through your mind. You did your best to keep composed.

"Okay, what's up?"

James released a heavy breath as if he was preparing himself for the words to follow.

"So, while I was away, I had a lot of time to think about things,"

"What kinds of things?"

"Well, you know, just everything that's been going on. When I found out about Lily and Mary back on New Years Eve, I was heartbroken..."

You sighed feeling a rush of sympathy. "Yeah, James about that, I'm really sorry. You shouldn't have had to find out that way, I-"

"No! No, it's okay!" he interrupted. "What I was going to say was actually that I was heartbroken at first. But then the more I thought about it, the more I realised, I've been in love with Lily for so long that I think at some point I just started to like the idea of us together more than I actually liked her, if that makes sense."

You sent him a look of confusion.

"That's not to say I don't like her of course," he rushed to amend. "She's a great friend and obviously she's beautiful and a wonderful person and all that but I think that I just got so comfortable with wanting her that I didn't realise when I didn't really want her anymore..."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the boy’s rambling. "James, what are you trying to say?"

Then he stopped walking suddenly and you followed suit. He turned to look at you then, his face serious and eyes ablaze with an unfamiliar friction.

"I think what I'm trying to say is... that night made me realise that I have feelings for someone else."

In that moment, despite the cold of the street, heat began to swirl around you. You felt energy of an unknown source drawing you together in a magnetic pull as James gazed down at you with a look of yearning clouding his dark eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him. Your eyes raked over every inch of his face; his sweet smile, the dimples in his cheeks, the stupid curls that he couldn't contain no matter how hard he tried. He was beautiful.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and your lips connected.

It was like the world faded around you. The noise of the cars and the crowds and the hustle and bustle of London in the evening, all just melted away. You didn't care that you were standing in the middle of the street, with icy tendrils of wind piercing your skin. You didn't care that you had a rock in your shoe or that your hair was blowing in your face. In that moment, all you cared about was him and the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

It wasn't desperate and passionate the way it had been with Sirius. No, James' kiss was sweeter, gentler, filled with warmth and comfort just like he was.

When you pulled back, James had a playful smirk on his face. He licked his lips, looking down at you affectionately as he used a finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

"So," he muttered. "Will you go out with me, then?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I will, you idiot."

He laughed a little and intertwined your fingers with his own.

"Okay good. I just wanted to make sure."

You scoffed as you began to walk once more, hand in hand and smiles painted on your swollen lips.

--

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough, @loveelylani, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @that-gay-person-27, @serenadingtigers, @lily-mylove, @arielthee-potterhead, @treefairy-28, @happycatanxie, @lettertovera, @captainlunaxmen, @ellieshifts3, @marauderslover18, @hidontmindtheintrovert

[unhappy-sometimes]

a 2024 reading retrospective

so. i read a lot of fics in 2024. here are some of my favorites.

before i get started, please note that these are not in any particular order and these are not all of my favorites!!!!!!!! i wanted to include so many more but i just wasn't able to! also please don't roast me for reading stuff from more than two years ago :(((

anyway, here we go!!

1. Air by Cantare

as always, @cantareincminor knocks it out of the park. i'm a sucker for alternate first meeting AUs and Air is one of the good ones!! i find that it can be hard to find authentic sounding banter between yor and twilight, but cantare manages it somehow! they have such great and natural sounding dialogue. it's just a one chapter fic, but maybe if we ask nicely enough, cantare will continue one day 😏

2. like the wild geese by anonymous_viscacha

okay in all honesty, i read this for the first time last week and i scrambled to add this one to the list. it's a short one shot about a shared lunch break between yor and loid, but it's so sweet and endearing that i just had to put it on. i love love love it when people let loid and yor catch up on the childhood they lost because they deserve it. i'm kinda obsessed with this fic right now.

3. what happens outside by aerequets

it's kinda unfair that @aerequets gets to be a great artist and author but here we are. i'm not complaining tho because what happens outside is a delightful read. i enjoy exploring post reveal pre relationship twiyor and this fic is perfect for that!! it's also just really cute and reading things from yor's perspective is super endearing.

4. chaos theory by sarsaparillia

so ngl this one scared me at first because i do NOT like major character death fics and this one really seems like it, but this fic was unexpectedly wholesome and has a happy ending!!! it's short but bittersweet so i can't really talk about it without spoiling it any more. go read it! it's short!

5. eventually i fall into you, you attack my heart by princessguard

i know this is a controversial (and somewhat ironic) take but i usually really don't like eden AUs but. this fic is proof that there are always exceptions to the rule. this one is a short little story about a serious student at eden and the weird girl he keeps meeting in trees. i don't know exactly why i love this one so much but it do. it's cute and the epilogue got me grinning like a fool.

6. like real people do by Puolain

once again another alternative meeting AU. i dunno, man, it's just so much fun to see twilight and yor having the chance to be real people and accidentally fall in love which each other. i eat that up every time. great work @loveroma!

7. I'll Be There in a Minute, Dear by fluffmelange

i was SO CLOSE to putting fluffmelange's "Leave No Trace of Yourself" here because that one is SO FUNNY but alas, this delightful fic barely won out in the end. you know what you should do? read both. fluffmelange is keeping us all fed with short and sweet fics that are so much fun to read. this one is a favorite simply because the premise is so goofy and simple but i could 100% see it being canon lol. we are in your capable hands @fluffmelange.

8. I've Been Throwing Bricks At Your Window Like There's No Better Way To Say Hello by thesmallestfishinthesea

this fic has such a silly and simply premise but i love it so so so much. it's about the three times yor forgets her keys (plus one extra time loid forgets!!!!) and it's so cute to have a view inside yor's (often frazzled) mind. i don't know what else to say other than READ IT RIGHT NOW!!! great work @smallest-fish-inthesea!

this is not all!! i really wanted to include the wonderful works of @whateversawesome, @briefhottubcoffee, @spencer-is-alive, luinel, and more (ao3 literally went out just as i was typing this UGH what awful timing) but i wanted to do something to give back to this awesome community. fun fact, today is my birthday and there's a tradition in my family where the birthday person gives presents to others. so this is my present to everyone!! thanks for everything you guys and here's to another great year!

oh oh oh one last thing, i tried to link everyone's tumblr if they have one, so if there's an author on here who has a tumblr that i didn't link, let me know and i'll link them.

okay! thanks everyone!

(ALSO DON'T MAKE FUN OF HOW DIFFERENT SOME OF THE DRAWING STYLES LOOK IN SOME OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS, I WAS EXPERIMENTING WITH DIFFERENT TECHNIQUES AND THEY LOOK STUPID ALL PUT TOGETHER LEAVE ME ALONE😭😭😭😭😭😭)

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[munsonstorm]

Lotus Eater | chapter 6 - 3.7k words

my main masterlist - eddie masterlist - series masterlist

previous chapter - next chapter

summary: you wake up next to eddie munson. the morning after is never fun.

warnings: slow burn, 18+ mdni, angsty, talks about sexual assault (none has happened), self destructive behavior, reader has mental illnesses that are undiagnosed, lots of arguing, mentions of not wanting to eating food, talks of dealing drugs, money insecurity.

a/n: sorry for this one folks. i bet some of you saw it coming! if not, sorry! thank you for all the continued love and support on this one. i'm sorry this one too a bit longer.

The soft snores from beside you stir you out of your slumber. The moment you are semi-conscious, you note the throbbing of your head. Your eyes crack open, gazing upon a mop of chocolate brown curls lying across the pillow next to you. The more you widen your lids, you notice he is shirtless and tucked perfectly under a comforter. 

Your heart stills. There is no way. 

You sit straight up, his body being jostled awake by your movements. He groans out, his voice already raspy. You are sitting on the edge of the bed, your bare feet seeming so far away from you. It’s like an optical illusion, sending you into a panic immediately. 

He props himself up on his elbows, eyes slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, sunshine.”

You do not waste any time as you jump to your feet, wobbling to get to your shoes and socks across the room, “Take me home.”

You do not disguise your panicked voice. The moment you notice your work uniform all balled up on the floor, your heart sinks. You then become aware of the fact that you are not wearing your own clothes. You take a shaky breath, body rigid at the idea that you may have done something you would regret. Something you lacked memories of. 

You slept with Eddie Munson.

Eddie is alarmed by your sudden stance, pulling his legs from the comforter. “Wow… relax-”

You shoot him a look, the color completely drained from your face. Your brain also feels like it may explode out of your skull. “We didn’t do anything, right?”

That’s when his eyes fly open and his legs start moving to the edge of the bed, “What? No.”

He is even quicker to stand up, very clumsily. Like a newborn baby deer, unsure how to use his legs. He is still wearing his skinny jeans, which is a relief at the very least. He is panicked, to say the least, reaching out in defense of himself,  “No, no, why would you think that?”

Your eyes flicker down to his state of undress. The scattered tattoos are enough to send your body into panic mode. The stark contrast of the shading and his pasty white skin makes your heart flutter a bit. “You were shirtless and laying next to me.”

He looks down as if it’s the first time he’s seen himself half-naked. “I always sleep with no shirt on. Y-you s-said it was okay.”

He is already sweating, you can tell. Based on the tone of his voice and the shakiness of his words, you believe him. But that does not help the nervousness stirring within you. You had never been that close to a guy, especially not when you were sleeping. It’s jarring to wake up next to the guy you have spent a lot of time with and you consider a friend. 

The idea that he could betray your trust and take advantage of you was sending you into a spiral. And it didn’t even happen.

You bite the inside of your lip, scared to even say the words. “So, we didn’t-”

“No,” he states sternly, his eyes never wavering, “I would never ever do that to you.”

There’s a thick tension that falls over you two. You just sway slightly, trying your best not to let your brain go to the worst-case scenario. His eyes are almost desperate. You know he sees the wheels spinning in your head. 

The only thing you know how to do is push him away. Make him feel guilty, even if he did nothing wrong. 

“This was a mistake,” You whisper, locking your hands in front of your body. You feel like a weight drops on your shoulders, slouching a bit as Eddie searches your face questionably. 

He steps a bit closer, his voice small, “What? Sleeping next to me? Or being here?”

Guilt. That is the heaviness that is nagging you. 

But you double down. Because you cannot admit the truth. A truth you probably have yet to fully uncover. Your feelings about Eddie, spending time with him, admiring him– all of it was too much. 

“I was drunk,” You hiccup, eyes hesitantly glaring up at him, “And yes, it was a mistake sleeping next to you. Being around you is a mis-”

He waves his hand in front of you, narrowing his eyes, “Hey!”

His voice is even more shaky, and it tears your heart in half. For some reason, this argument feels even more vulnerable and tense than any fight with Kacey. Or even your parents. 

It could be because you are lying to yourself. You are lying to Eddie. 

Every other time, you are too honest. For some sick and twisted reason, you wanted to remain guarded around Eddie. A mystery he could never solve. And much to your dismay, that was going to lead to him being hurt. 

You only knew how to make things more complicated. 

You clench your jaw, not even wanting to say another word. But the silence is deafening, and you cannot handle looking at the pitiful expression on his face any longer. “Take me home.”

-

You could not stop bouncing your leg. 

The tape Eddie decided to play was louder than usual, probably to drown out the quiet that plagued you two. 

As you two left Gareth’s, some of them were awake and excited to welcome you two to some breakfast. You made up some excuse about needing to get home, promising to get Gareth back his clothes on the following Monday. Eddie just stood silently behind you as you lied through your teeth. You are almost positive everyone knew something was wrong. 

You practically felt sick with nerves. Your stomach was rolling over every turn that jostled you a bit towards Eddie. Your mind starts to unravel, thinking of how badly it hurts to argue with Eddie. Why do you care so much about his impression of you? Just a couple of months ago, you couldn't have cared less if he even looked your way. But in this very moment, you silently plead for him to say something. To show you those big brown doe eyes and ask if you are alright, even when you did not deserve that courtesy. 

You land at a red light in the middle of Hawkins, the squealing of Eddie’s brakes spooking an older couple at the crosswalk. 

The lady is dressed in a mid-length pink dress, with large sunglasses perched on her nose. Her gray hair matched her husband’s, but his was set off by his navy blue slacks and gray button-up top. They look towards you as they hobble across the lined pavement, arms locked together. The smiles they give you both make you feel even worse. 

It was like they were taunting you. Dangling what it could look like to be happy and secure with another person. 

That was something you could not ponder for long. You knew it would lead you back down the same road you found yourself traveling down when your anxiety kept you awake late at night. 

The light turns green when they get to the other side of the street. Eddie’s foot leaves the break slowly, leading you to shoot him a quick glance. He is looking at the two old people, too. His eyes were a bit hazy and red, like he had just smoked a joint. Or cried.

He caught on that you looked at him almost immediately. He turned the dial on the radio, muting the music.  “Are we gonna like.. Talk?”

Your hands instantly start to shake. You shift them to be wedged between your thighs, almost like you are trying to warm them and not hide them away. Your nerves just loved reminding you that you needed to keep that wall up and protect yourself from getting to the bottom of the emotions that are obvious. “What’s there to say?”

You don’t expect Eddie to scoff, his voice gravelly. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that you are high and low with me constantly? We had a good night-”

It is like he’s trying to throw rocks at your metaphorical glass house. A house you were trying to use duct tape to keep from shattering. Instead of listening to his complete thought, you butt in quickly, “I’m not high and low-”

This time, he returns the favor, abruptly raising his voice at you. “Stop cutting me off! You always do that shit.”

You have never been on the receiving end of Eddie’s anger. And you can tell by his body language that he regretted it immediately. His jaw is clenched, his shoulders raised, his fingers white knuckling the steering wheel. 

Admittedly, you knew that you were bad at letting people finish their sentences when you were frustrated. It was like you wanted to protect yourself from feeling remorse, hearing how you may have hurt another person. But this time, instead of yelling back at him, you sit with the heaviest heart.

You don’t realize how hard you are breathing until you hear your own panting. Your whole body shudders, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Eddie exhales, like he has been holding a breath for an hour, “What you said earlier really hurt. You think being around me is a mistake? You feel that lowly of me?”

It feels like a slap in the face. It stings, because no, that is not what you wanted him to believe. But you do not know how to defend yourself. Those words did slip from your mouth. Even if they were just knee-jerk and not relevant to the situation, you still uttered them.

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

You can tell he does not accept that response, slamming his hand into the wheel, “Well that’s what you fuckin’ said!”

You have never truly raised your voice at Eddie, and you never imagined today would be the day. “But you know that’s not how I feel!”

He slams on his brakes, sending you jolting forward. You are on the back road that brings you directly to the entrance of Forest Hills, but to Eddie’s credit, there have not been many cars on the roads. When you peer up at him, jaw tight, eyes wide. You know you are in for it. Eddie’s rage has never been directed at you. The only time you can remember Eddie being this furious was when some jock tripped Mike Wheeler and sent his pudding cup flying onto Eddie’s favorite Dio shirt. You would have thought the sorry son-of-a-bitch shot him directly in the chest. 

“Well how the fuck do you feel, sweetheart?! I’m on the edge of my seat!” His voice is strained and almost unfamiliar. 

You did not know how you felt, truthfully. You obviously cared for Eddie. He did a lot for you. He looked out for you when you needed it. He spent a lot of time making sure you were included in things he did not have to include you in. He wasted his gas on you countless times. He was a listening an ear when you wanted to complain about your parents or the shitty people who made your life hell at school. And even though he did not care about college, he would ask you questions about which schools you applied to. Asked you about the essay you wrote to get into your dream school. 

And even with all that in mind, you could not muster an admission to him. Having to say the words out loud would make this even more convoluted. 

“I don’t feel one way or another about you, Eddie. You’re just a,” You breathe out, eyes rimming with tears, “you’re my friend.”

He scoffs. It’s a bitter sound, the hiss of his breath between his teeth. “Well, sorry to break it to you, princess, but the way you talk to me is not how you talk to friends.”

You rack your aching brain as he pulls his foot off the brake, accelerating forward towards your neighborhood. You wish you had the words to make him feel better. To make up for what you said. But you land with just a few hushed words.

“That was not my intention.”

You look away from him as he speaks. You realize that looking at him makes you want to cry. 

“You made me feel like I wasn’t even good enough to be in your presence or something,” He practically whispers as you try to disguise your sniffle. 

You are such an asshole. 

“Well, that’s not true, Eddie.”

Yeah, a big fucking asshole.

He laughs at that, but not in his usual jovial and goofy way. It’s bitter and deep in the back of his throat. It is like he is appalled that you are still trying to defend your position. 

“Are you allergic to apologies?” He bites, indignantly, “Seems like it.”

It is almost like the final nail in the coffin. Words completely escape you as tears now replace them. As they rush down your cheeks, Eddie parks the van in his driveway. He does not wait for you to get out first, like he usually does. Instead, he gets out as soon as he removes the keys from the ignition, slamming his door harder than usual. 

You watch him saunter into the trailer, the shingles practically shaking when he shuts the front door. The silence is heavier than any stillness you have ever experienced. You unbuckle yourself, slowly moving to grab your balled up work clothes. When you slide out of the van, you do not bother to slam the door or make a point that he can hear through the thin walls of his place. 

Instead, you close it quietly and do the walk of shame you were not anticipating ever doing.

-

You never see Eddie leave his house the entire week. You are still stuck going to work as usual, trying to distract yourself from the dull ache in your chest. Your Mom berates you for more money, telling you she’s short for the water bill, and your Dad’s hours are being cut at the plant. 

You give them $100 and tell them to make it last until the end of the year. You did not need to worry about not being able to shower. That would be more ammunition for Kacey and her crew.

On Thanksgiving, your Dad comes home with a bucket of KFC chicken and tells you to help yourself to some. When you tell him you are not very hungry, he rolls his eyes.

“You saving some room for the Munsons’ Thanksgiving?” He mocks, pulling a cigarette from a box of Marlboros. You narrow your eyes at him from the couch, not sure how to even respond to that.

“What are you even talking about?”

He pulls a chicken leg out of the bucket, waving it in your face as the cigarette hangs unlit from his lips. “That Munson boy just dotes on ya’. Was assuming he was gonna invite you over for dinner.”

You cringe when he calls him the ‘Munson boy’. You wave your hands dramatically, standing up from your spot on the sinking furniture. “We aren’t talking right now. I pissed him off.”

Usually, you avoided giving your Dad any perspective on your personal life, but you truly had no one else to talk to about this. The cook at work told you that you needed a therapist after you told him you had no friends. So, you have resorted to spilling the beans to your half-deadbeat Dad.

He drops the chicken leg back in the bucket, spinning a lighter in the other hand and lighting the end of the stick. “Well, he ain’t good enough for you anyway, baby doll. Heard he’s slingin’ over there.”

Your ears perk up, “Who told you that?”

He blows smoke out of the side of his mouth, giving you a mocking smirk, “Don’t worry 'bout it. Just be careful around him, you hear me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

-

You had no clue if Eddie would even want to drive you to school on Monday morning. You wake up extra early, pulling on your usual outfit and your winter coat. 

Indiana was not getting any warmer. The cold would wear you down to the bone even if you were only outside for a couple of minutes. December was always the worst time of the year for your depressive episodes, especially when it got dark quicker. It was shaping up to be the same thing this year.

You slip outside, the frigid air immediately freezing your hands. You tuck your hands in your coat pocket, waiting for Eddie to finally slip out of his house. You decide to sit on your stoop, afraid your legs may give out with how much they are shaking. Nerves? Extremely cold? Who knows. 

You are not sure why you are secretly hoping he ices you out completely and never speaks to you again. Maybe it would make the pain of the argument subside, and you could finally get rid of the rattling thoughts and pain in your ribs. But, no.

He walks out with a cigarette already lit between his lips. You stand up on wobbly legs, walking towards the asphalt that separates your driveways. 

“Mornin’,” You hardly manage, your voice unsteady. He was wearing his usual outfit, but instead of his high-top shoes, he was sporting some black combat boots that were scuffed to hell.

He takes a drag from the cigarette, flicking it as he blows out the smoke, “Hi, sunshine.”

He gestures for you to get in the van, which you do without another word. He seems normal. Painfully normal. 

Like, was he not reeling like you? Was the fight not that big of a deal to him? Was he isolating himself because he needed to get his head back on straight? Or was he just busy doing who knows what? Why is his leg not bouncing like yours as he drives? Where was his jean jacket? It was cold outside, and he should have been wearing it. 

You sit in the van for the first two minutes of the ride, your brain spinning with a million and one questions and stupid thoughts. You realize you have not looked the man in the eye once yet. You slowly cock your head towards him, seeing if he would look back at you. 

And he does almost immediately. 

Then the words fall out of your mouth, unrehearsed, “I am not good with emotions.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, but he says nothing. His eyes trace back to the road in front of him, the heat from the vents blowing his dark hair back slightly. 

You think back to the internal dialogue you had the night before. You needed to be honest for once in your damn life. Eddie deserved that at the very least. You could not spend another day making him believe you hated him. Or resented him. 

You clear your throat, “I fucked up, okay? I just wasn’t really expecting to enjoy hanging out with you, and it scared me. When I woke up next to you, my mind raced to the first awful thought and clung to it. And that was wrong.”

You do not know why those certain words hang in the balance for you. You always had an issue saying sorry because it was like almost admitting defeat. You liked to believe that a lot of your pride could stay intact if you just weaseled your way out of saying those specific words. I’m sorry. 

But Eddie needed those words. He deserved them. 

“And I’m sorry,” You almost choke, the words catching right behind your teeth, ”I’m sorry for being rude to you. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

The fucker smiles at you. A big wide grin that you missed so goddamn bad. “There it is, sweetheart.”

You instantly want to shrivel up in your seat. You clench your fist like a little kid would when they are frustrated someone won’t let them have a turn on a swingset, “You’re such an ass-”

He waves his heavily ringed fingers in your face, blowing you off. “Thank you for apologizing, sunshine. I am sorry for how heated things got. I never want to raise my voice at you.”

“You are loud when you yell,” You confess, your body shifting a bit away from him, “But yeah... I should’ve apologized sooner. Like I said… not good with emotions.”

His smile drops a bit as he shrugs. He brings his hand to your thigh, squeezing it tightly, “You will get there, don’t worry. You’re not entirely emotionally stunted.”

You cannot stop the noise coming from your chest at his teasing. Even over your jeans, his hand felt so heavy, that warmth radiating, spreading all through your body. You swipe his hand, but he pulls it away before you could actually touch him, “And here I thought I was more emotionally intelligent than you.”

He giggles at your jab. That sound only further brings heat to your body.

You return a smile as he pulls into the same gas station he did every morning. He throws the van in park and checks his pack of cigarettes. He had enough to last him the rest of the day.

But you knew you would be parking in the same lot tomorrow morning, so he could get more. 

“If I get you donuts, will you actually eat them?” He asks, unlocking his door. He does not turn the van off, luckily. You would probably freeze within a minute or two. You ponder his question for a moment, clicking your tongue as if deep in thought. 

“Probably not,” You answer, watching him slide out of his seat. You catch a peek at his checked underwear as his silver chain drags across the seat. You ensure to move your eyes quickly up to his gaze again, “But I could go for a Yoohoo.”

He grips onto the door before it can creak too much, a smug grin taking over his entire face. It sent a jolt straight to your chest. “Now you’re speaking my language, sunshine.”

dividers from @/saradika-graphics

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[jungkoode]

WE GREW UP SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY | 02

"corporate hellscape & theoretical arrangements"

"Despite every rational thought screaming at you to shut this down, you hear yourself agreeing to the most ridiculous professional arrangement in the history of professional arrangements."

next | index | wc: 7.5k

↦author's note : Okay so first of all *turns microphone on, taps twice, clears throat aggressively* 🚨 WE HAVE AN OUTLINE FOR WGU, PEOPLE. I REPEAT. WE HAVE AN OUTLINE. 🚨 Which means this fic is now officially going to be 30 chapters long and highly likely somewhere between 200-250k+ words, so buckle your seatbelt, tighten your shoelaces, and kiss your emotionally stability goodbye. We're going full send. This is wild because… I never outline. I'm not built like that. I am a write-by-the-vibes, stream-of-consciousness, playlist-induced fugue state kind of girl. I daydream entire scenes while brushing my teeth and then rearrange them mentally like a madman pinning red thread to a corkboard. The closest I've come to a "structure" before this is just knowing what general direction I want things to go—like I might know, "at some point they'll kiss in the rain," but no clue if that's Chapter 5 or Chapter 17 or a hallucination I made up in REM sleep. But now? Now I know what happens in every chapter. Not just plot beats, but character turns, internal shifts, thematic echoes. And y'all… it's life-changing. It lets me plant narrative seeds that will grow into devastatingly beautiful emotional collapses later. Like, suddenly I feel like an actual architect instead of a raccoon with a pen. Still feral. But, you know. Feral with a floorplan. And because I'm me, this story is now also structured into four volumes, because it needed to be arch-y like that. Big arc energy. Arcs that make you cry in the club. I genuinely think this might become my most emotionally textured fic—because I'm working with intent instead of just instinct. Both are good. But together? They go feral. Together they write this fic. I love it so much. I love them so much.

Your alarm goes off at 6:30 AM sharp, dragging you from dreams about okonomiyaki and stupid orange beanies.

The corporate world of Osaka doesn't give a shit about your jet lag, your existential crisis, or the fact that you spent half the night staring at the ceiling wondering why Jung Hoseok draws porn for a living.

You stumble through your morning routine in the cramped bathroom, squinting at yourself in the mirror that's too small and positioned at the wrong height. Your reflection looks like it's been through a blender—hair doing its own thing, eyes puffy from restless sleep, and that general air of 'please don't perceive me' that seems to be your default setting these days.

The shower barely produces lukewarm water, and you're starting to understand why rent was so cheap. Everything in this apartment operates on the principle of 'technically functional but aggressively mediocre.'

You throw on your most professional-looking outfit—a navy blazer and matching pants that felt impressive in Sydney but now seem inadequate for whatever corporate hell awaits you. The fabric wrinkles the moment you sit down, because apparently even your clothes are nervous.

The commute to Umeda is a forty-minute journey that involves two train transfers and a ten-minute walk through streets that all look identical in the early morning light.

Everyone around you moves like they're on a mission or part of a James Bond movie (hard to tell, honestly)—briefcases and designer handbags clutched like weapons, faces set in expressions of determined politeness.

You study the other foreigners on the train—scattered among the sea of black-haired commuters like misplaced chess pieces. A few Western faces here and there, all wearing the same slightly overwhelmed expression you suspect is plastered across your own face.

The building housing Synergy International Marketing is a gleaming tower of glass and steel that probably looked cutting-edge in 1995 but now seems like it's trying too hard.

The lobby has that corporate smell—air freshener mixed with coffee and the faint anxiety sweat of people pretending they know what they're doing.

You present yourself to reception, where an immaculately dressed Japanese woman greets you with the kind of professional smile that reaches exactly nowhere near her eyes.

"Y/N-san? Welcome. Please wait here. Tanaka-san will escort you to orientation."

Tanaka-san turns out to be a harried-looking man in his forties who speaks English like he's translating every word in his head before letting it out.

He leads you through a maze of cubicles and conference rooms, explaining company policies in a tone that suggests he's given this speech approximately ten thousand times.

"International Communications Department is on seventh floor. Your desk will be in shared workspace with other English-speaking staff. Please maintain professional appearance and punctuality at all times."

The elevator ride up is silent except for generic jazz music that makes you want to throw yourself out a window.

The seventh floor is an open-plan nightmare of beige cubicles, warm lighting, and the aggressive clicking of keyboards.

It's honestly like someone took every stereotype about corporate offices and decided to make them reality.

Your desk is a small corner space next to a window that looks out onto another building approximately six feet away

The previous occupant has left behind a stress ball shaped like a hamburger and a coffee mug with 'I want to drown in coffee' printed on it in faded letters.

Inspiring.

"Your immediate supervisor is Davidson-san," Tanaka explains, gesturing toward a tall man with prematurely gray hair who's currently engaged in what appears to be a heated phone conversation in English. "He will explain your duties. Please make good impression."

Davidson finishes his call and approaches with the kind of smile that suggests he's simultaneously relieved to see you and already exhausted by your presence.

"You must be our new copywriter! Dave Davidson, department head. I know, I know, my parents were very creative." His handshake is firm but sweaty. "Ready to dive into the wonderful world of international marketing?"

Aaaand… That's how you spend the next three hours in meetings that could have been emails, learning about 'synergistic brand integration' and 'cross-cultural consumer engagement strategies.'

Your role, as it turns out, involves translating Japanese marketing concepts into English copy that doesn't sound like it was written by robots having a nervous breakdown.

Your colleagues are honestly a mixed bag—two other foreigners who look like they've been here long enough to develop thousand-yard stares, and several Japanese staff members who speak perfect English but seem perpetually confused by your presence.

Lunch is a sad bento box eaten at your desk while reviewing client briefs for companies you've never heard of selling products you don't understand.

The work itself isn't terrible, just mind-numbingly ordinary.

Write copy for a new line of beauty products. Edit brochures for a tech company. Make everything sound 'dynamic' and 'innovative' without actually saying anything meaningful.

Marketing, as it is.

By 3 PM, you're wondering if this is what death feels like—slow, bureaucratic, and accompanied by the sound of printers jamming.

Your phone buzzes with a message that makes several of your new colleagues glance over disapprovingly.

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙷𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚢? 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝? 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝! (◕‿◕)

You glance around to make sure no one's watching before typing back:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙰𝚠𝚠𝚠 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚢! 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝! (╥﹏╥)

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜! 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢! 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑? 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛!

You look around the office—at Davidson explaining synergy to a potted plant, at your coworkers staring at their screens with the enthusiasm of people watching their own funerals.

It feels like watching dead insects.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝟻:𝟹𝟶 𝚒𝚏 𝙸'𝚖 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢. 𝟼 𝚒𝚏 𝙳𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 '𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗' 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝! 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝟼! 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝, 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞!

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔?

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙷𝚊 𝚑𝚊, 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢, 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚢. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚗���𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝. 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍, 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝.

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝? (𝙸 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘!!)

You put your phone away and try to focus on the task at hand—writing compelling copy for a line of anti-aging moisturizers targeted at 'modern Japanese women who demand excellence.'

The irony isn't lost on you.

At exactly 6:07 PM, you escape the corporate hellscape and find Hoseok lounging in the lobby like he actually belongs there.

He's wearing ripped jeans, a faded band t-shirt, and that same orange beanie, looking like he wandered in from a completely different universe.

Several security guards eye him suspiciously.

"Capy!" He jumps up (and you want to slap him) from the leather chair he's been sprawled across. "You survived! I wasn't sure you would make it out alive."

"Barely," you mutter, adjusting your blazer. "This place is where souls go to die."

"Harsh. But accurate, probably." He looks you up and down with an expression you can't quite read. "You look very... professional. Like you could fire someone and feel nothing."

"Don't tempt me. I already have a list."

He laughs, falling into step beside you as you head toward the exit.

"That bad, huh?"

"I spent six hours learning about 'consumer-focused brand narratives' and I still don't know what that means. Also, my desk faces a wall."

"Sounds like you need alcohol and carbohydrates. Lucky for you, I know just the place."

You follow him out into the early evening chaos of Umeda, where salary men in identical dark suits stream past like schools of depressed fish.

The contrast between Hoseok's chaotic energy and the rigid corporate atmosphere is so stark it's almost funny.

Almost.

"So," he says as you navigate through the crowd, "tell me about your coworkers. Anyone interesting? Any office romances brewing? Workplace drama?"

"It's been one day, Ott. I barely learned where the bathroom is."

"Details, Capy! I need details! Is your boss hot? Is there office gossip? Do people eat lunch at their desks like sad robots?"

"Yes to the sad robot lunches. No to everything else." You side-step a group of tourists taking photos of street signs. "Although Davidson—that's my boss—seems like the type who has strong opinions about proper email formatting."

"Davidson? What kind of name is Davidson for a boss? He sounds like a middle management villain."

"Davidson Davidson, actually."

Hoseok stops walking entirely.

"You're joking."

"I am not joking. His parents named him Dave Davidson. He acknowledged the lack of creativity himself."

"That's the most tragic thing I've ever heard. No wonder you looked dead inside when I picked you up."

"I didn't look dead inside."

"Capy, you looked like someone had surgically removed your will to live. Which, honestly, is understandable after spending eight hours with a man named Dave Davidson."

You can't argue with that assessment.

He leads you to a small izakaya tucked between a convenience store and a shop selling nothing but different types of socks.

The interior is all dark wood and paper lanterns, with the kind of cramped seating that forces strangers to become uncomfortably intimate with each other's elbows.

"This place doesn't look like much," Hoseok says, sliding into a booth that's clearly designed for people smaller than either of you, "but they have the best karaage in the city, and the beer is cheap enough that you can afford to forget about Dave Davidson's existence."

"I can't get drunk. I have to work tomorrow."

"Who said anything about getting drunk? I said forgetting Dave Davidson exists. That only requires like, two beers, max."

The waitress appears—a woman who looks like she's been working here since the restaurant opened sometime in the Meiji era.

Hoseok jumps in, ordering in fluent Japanese that flows so naturally you almost forget he's half-Australian. 

His mom made sure he was bilingual from the start, but hearing it now, surrounded by the actual language and culture, makes you realize how much more connected to this place he is than you.

"What did you order?" you ask when she leaves.

"Food. Beer. Trust me."

"That's not an answer."

"It is now, Capy. Live a little."

You lean back against the booth, feeling some of the day's tension leave your shoulders.

The izakaya is warm and dim, filled with the comfortable buzz of people unwinding after work.

It's the first time all day you've felt like you could breathe properly.

"So," you say, "how's the porn business?"

Hoseok nearly chokes on the water he's sipping.

"Jesus, warn a guy before you just blurt that out."

"What? You brought it up yesterday. I'm just making conversation."

"It's... fine. Good, actually. I just finished a commission that's probably going to pay my rent for the next two months."

"What was it? Wait, do I want to know?"

He grins.

"Probably not. But I'll tell you anyway. It was a twelve-page story about a librarian who discovers that late-night study sessions can be... educational."

"Oh god."

"Hey, don't knock it! The characterization was surprisingly deep. She had a whole backstory about her graduate thesis on medieval literature. Very sophisticated stuff."

"You're defending the artistic merit of librarian porn to me."

"I'm defending the artistic merit of all my work. Just because it's explicit doesn't mean it lacks substance."

The food arrives—platters of fried chicken, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and enough beer to drown a horse.

Hoseok immediately starts dissecting the chicken with the precision of a surgeon.

"The thing is," he continues, apparently not done with his professional defense, "most hentai is garbage. No character development, ridiculous scenarios, anatomy that defies physics. But I try to make mine actually... realistic, you know? Like, what would these people actually be thinking? How would they really react?"

You take a long drink of beer.

"Realistic hentai. That's your niche."

"Mock all you want, but it's harder than you think. Especially drawing women. Like, actually making them look like real people instead of inflatable dolls with anatomically impossible proportions."

"I imagine that is challenging."

"It is! I spend hours looking at reference photos trying to get facial expressions right during…" He clears his throat. "…intimate moments. And body language! How do people actually hold themselves when they're vulnerable? What do real emotions look like on someone's face when they're—"

He stops mid-sentence, looking suddenly self-conscious.

"When they're what?" you prompt, more curious than you want to admit.

"When they're... you know. Experiencing pleasure. Real pleasure."

There's something in his voice—a genuine frustration that catches you off guard. Like this actually matters to him beyond just paying rent.

"That does sound complicated," you say, surprising yourself with the sincerity.

"It is. I mean, I can draw bodies fine. Anatomy, positioning, all that technical stuff. But making it feel real? Making the characters seem like actual people instead of just... vessels for fantasy? That's the hard part."

The beer is making you bolder than usual.

"So what's the problem exactly?"

Hoseok fidgets with his chopsticks.

"I think... I think I draw women the way I assume they should look and feel, instead of how they actually do. Does that make sense?"

"Sort of. Like you're working from secondhand information instead of... primary sources?"

"Exactly!" He leans forward, animated again. "I'm always guessing. What would her face actually look like in this moment? How would she really move? What would be going through her head?"

You take another drink, processing this unexpected insight into his work.

"And you can't just... I don't know, watch porn for reference?"

"Porn is the worst reference possible. It's all performance. Fake expressions, exaggerated reactions, completely unrealistic scenarios. If I based my work on porn, it would be just as terrible as everyone else's."

"Huh."

"Yeah, huh." He picks at his food, suddenly looking younger than his twenty-six years. "Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up on trying to make it realistic and just draw ridiculous tentacle monsters like everyone expects."

"Don't do that."

The words come out more forcefully than you intended, and he looks up with surprise.

"I mean," you backtrack, "if you think realistic is better, then... keep trying to make it realistic. Right?"

"But how? I can't exactly ask random women to model for explicit manga. That would be weird and probably illegal."

You're quiet for a moment, an idea forming that you immediately try to dismiss.

But the beer and the warmth of the izakaya and the genuine frustration in his voice make you consider it.

"What if..." you start, then stop.

"What if what?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Capy, what were you going to say?"

You drain half your beer in one go.

"I was going to say, what if you had someone to model for you? Like, someone you trust who could give you actual realistic reference?"

Hoseok stares at you. Frowns, like genuinely, actually frowns (and isn't that the first time in his adult face you've seen it?)

"Are you... are you offering?"

"I'm not offering anything. I'm just saying hypothetically, if you had access to realistic references, your work would probably improve."

"Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically."

"And this hypothetical reference model would be...?"

You feel heat rising in your cheeks and blame it on the alcohol.

"I don't know. Someone who understands that it's just work. Professional."

"Professional reference modeling for hentai manga."

"It's not any weirder than your current career path."

He's quiet for a long moment, studying your face like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

"You're serious," he says finally.

"I'm drunk," you correct. "There's a difference."

"But you're serious about being drunk."

"Shut up, Ott."

But he's grinning now, that stupid, wide grin that takes over his entire face.

"Capy wants to model for my sexy manga!"

"Keep your voice down!" You glance around the izakaya, but everyone seems too absorbed in their own conversations to care about yours. "And I didn't say I wanted to do anything. I said hypothetically—"

"You offered to pose for me."

"I offered a theoretical solution to your creative problem."

"By posing for me."

"By... providing realistic reference materials in a professional capacity."

"For my hentai manga."

"For your... adult-oriented sequential art."

He's laughing now, delighted by your obvious discomfort. "This is the best day of my life. Capy is going to be my muse!"

"I am not going to be your muse. And stop calling it that."

"What should I call it? My artistic collaborator? My reference consultant? My—"

"Your friend who's had too much beer and suggested something stupid."

"My friend who's going to help me create the most realistic romantic manga Osaka has never seen."

That stops you.

Because he…

He's just said the word 'friend'.

And you hate how that made something twist in your chest.

"I haven't agreed to anything," you insist. "We were just talking theoretically."

"Theoretically, when would you be available for our first session?"

"Theoretically, you're an idiot."

"Theoretically, you're avoiding the question."

You finish your beer and immediately signal for another.

"If—and I mean if—I were to consider this theoretical arrangement, it would be purely professional. No weirdness."

"Define weirdness."

"You know what I mean."

"I really don't. Are we talking about no inappropriate comments? No lingering stares? No—"

"All of the above. It would be like... like life drawing class. Clinical. Professional."

"Have you ever taken a life drawing class?"

"That's not the point."

"Because life drawing classes can get pretty—"

"Hoseok."

"Right. Clinical. Professional. Got it." He's still grinning. "So when do we start?"

"We don't start anything because this is a hypothetical conversation about a theoretical arrangement that will never actually happen."

"But if it were to happen theoretically?"

You look at him across the table—flushed from beer and excitement, eyes bright with possibility, that stupid beanie slightly askew.

He looks exactly like the kid who used to convince you to climb fences and steal apples from the neighbor's tree, all mischief and misplaced confidence.

And despite every rational thought in your head screaming at you to shut this down, you hear yourself saying:

"Tomorrow night. After work. Your place."

His grin could power the entire city.

"Theoretically?" he asks.

"Theoretically."

"This is going to be amazing, Capy."

You signal for another beer.

You're going to need it.

The thing is, he looks genuinely excited. Not the performative, over-the-top excitement he uses to annoy you—but the real kind.

The kind that makes his eyes go bright and his whole body lean forward like he can't contain whatever stupid idea is bouncing around in his head.

It's the same look he used to get when he'd convince you to sneak out and explore the construction site behind your neighborhood, or when he'd drag you to that weird arcade with the broken claw machines that somehow always gave him exactly what he wanted.

Which means this theoretical modeling arrangement is either going to be completely innocent or a complete disaster.

Probably both.

"You know what?" he says, peeling the label off his new beer bottle in strips, "you should see my place tonight. Get the full Osaka experience."

You nearly choke on your karaage. Because what did this nuthead just say?

"What? No. Absolutely not."

"Why not? It's still early!"

"It's past nine, Ott. That's not early. That's nighttime. When normal people go home to their sad apartments and contemplate their life choices."

"Since when are we normal people?" He grins, that stupid, infectious grin that probably got him out of trouble his entire childhood. "Come on, Capy. When's the last time you had a proper house tour?"

When's the last time you crashed at a guy's place just because he asked? When's the last time you did anything without calculating the exact social implications and potential for regret?

"When's the last time you cleaned your house?" you counter instead.

"That's… irrelevant."

"Everything about you is irrelevant."

"Harsh but fair."

The waitress brings your beer, and you immediately take a long drink because this conversation is heading somewhere you're not sure you want to follow.

The alcohol has made everything slightly fuzzy around the edges, but not fuzzy enough to make this seem like a good idea.

Actually, that's a lie.

The alcohol is making it seem like exactly the kind of stupid, impulsive thing you would have done when you were seventeen and thought the worst thing that could happen was your parents finding out.

Now you know better.

Now you know that the worst things are usually the ones that feel like coming home.

"I'm not going to your apartment at nine-thirty at night after we just agreed to some theoretical professional arrangement that I'm already regretting," you say, but your voice lacks conviction.

"But you haven't seen where the magic happens! Where your theoretical modeling will theoretically take place!"

"The magic happens in your bedroom, doesn't it."

"Well, yeah. Better lighting by the window, and I can spread all my references out on the bed—" He stops mid-sentence, apparently realizing how that sounds. "Wait, that came out wrong."

"Everything you say comes out wrong."

"Fair point." He demolishes another piece of chicken. "But seriously, you should see the place. I've got it set up pretty nice now. Real drawing desk, proper lamp, even organized my reference materials into folders like a functioning adult."

"Your porn collection, you mean."

"My professional research library," he corrects with mock dignity. "Very different thing. Alphabetized and everything."

The image of Hoseok carefully organizing hentai manga by genre and artistic merit is so ridiculous you almost smile.

"Plus," he continues, voice quiet and not meeting your eyes while he picks at the label on his bottle, "you could crash there tonight. Save yourself the train ride back to your shoebox apartment."

And there it is. The real reason behind this sudden house tour enthusiasm.

"My apartment isn't a shoebox."

"Capy, you described it yesterday as 'slightly larger than a coffin but with worse lighting.'"

"That was… accurate but not the point."

"The point is you're probably dreading going back there alone. New city, new job, everything unfamiliar." His voice gets softer, less performative. "Wouldn't hurt to have somewhere comfortable to crash."

There it is again—that stupid, genuine concern that always catches you off guard. The way he can shift from ridiculous to sincere in half a sentence, like he's got some kind of emotional whiplash disorder.

It's the same tone he used when you were thirteen and crying because your parents were fighting again, when he climbed through your window and sat on your floor for three hours without saying a word. Just… present.

Just there.

And that's the problem, isn't it?

Because it's been five years since anyone was just there for you. Five years of being the competent one, the reliable one, the one who has her shit together and doesn't need anyone to sit on her floor and not say anything.

Five years of being completely, utterly alone.

"I'm not crashing at your place, Hoseok."

"Why not? We're friends, right?"

There's that word again—friends.

Like it's simple. Like five years of radio silence and separate lives can be erased with one dinner and too much beer.

Like you can just slip back into being the people you were before you grew up and moved away and learned how to be strangers.

"Are we?" you ask before you can stop yourself.

He looks up from his bottle, label half-peeled and hanging like a sad flag of surrender.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" You gesture vaguely between you, encompassing the izakaya, the theoretical modeling arrangement, the way he's looking at you like you're still seventeen and nothing has changed. "This. Whatever this is. Are we friends? Or are we just two people who used to know each other pretending nothing's changed?"

He blinks at you. You blink at him. And suddenly the two seconds of silence that pass by feel like an eternity.

"Do you want to be friends?" he finally asks quietly.

"I don't know." The honesty surprises you. "I mean, yes. I think. But I don't know if we can just… pick up where we left off."

"We don't have to pick up anywhere. We can start over."

"Start over as what?"

"As…" He shrugs, that careful casualness that means he's thinking harder than he's letting on. "As whatever we want to be."

But that's the problem—because you don't know what you want to be.

You don't know if you want to be the girl who crashes at her old friend's apartment because she's too lonely to go home, or the woman who keeps appropriate boundaries and doesn't complicate things.

You don't know if you want to be someone who can trust that easily again.

"You still bite your lip when you're thinking too hard," he observes.

"I do not."

"You're doing it right now."

You immediately stop biting your lip, which only makes him grin wider.

"Some things don't change, Capy. Even when everything else does."

"Don't get philosophical on me, Ott. It doesn't suit you."

"What does suit me?"

The question catches you off guard.

You look at him—really look at him—taking in the way five years have sharpened some edges and softened others.

The boy you knew is still there, buried under layers of adult experience and professional disappointment and whatever other things happen to people when they stop being kids and start pretending they know what they're doing.

He's still too thin, still too energetic, still wearing clothes that look like he grabbed them off his bedroom floor.

But there's something different in his eyes now.

As if he's been waiting for something for a long time and isn't sure it's coming.

"Chaos," you say finally. "Chaos suits you."

He laughs, loud enough that several other customers glance over.

"I'll take it."

"Good, because that's all you're getting."

"For now."

There's something in the way he says it that makes your stomach do a small, traitorous flip.

You blame the beer and the warm lighting and the fact that you've barely slept in three days.

"I should go home," you say, but you don't move to leave.

"You should come see my apartment."

"Those are opposite things, Ott."

"Not if you crash at mine."

"I'm not crashing at your place."

"Why not?"

"Because…" You fumble for a reason that doesn't sound ridiculous. "Because it's weird. We just reconnected yesterday. Normal people don't sleep over at their childhood friend's house after one dinner."

Because it feels too much like before.

Because you're scared of how easy it would be to fall back into old patterns, old dependencies, old ways of needing someone.

Because you've spent five years learning how to be alone, and one night on his couch might undo all of that.

"Normal people don't agree to model for hentai manga either, but here we are."

"That's different. That's professional."

"Right. Professional." He draws out the word like it's a foreign concept. "Professional modeling, professional friendship, professional distance. Everything professional."

"There's nothing wrong with professional."

"Course not. Very sensible. Very mature."

He's grinning again, but there's something underneath it that you can't quite identify.

You feel, surprisingly, it's shaped like disappointment.

"Very unlike the Capy I remember."

That makes you swallow.

It's unfair, how he can say shit like that and have your chest cave in.

"People change, Ott. We're not kids anymore."

"No," he agrees, and his voice goes quiet. "We're not."

The way he says it makes you look at him again, and what you see in his eyes looks like he's grieving for those kids too. Like he misses them as much as you do.

Like maybe he's been just as lost without them as you have.

"I have a surprise," he says suddenly, changing direction so fast you get conversational whiplash.

"I hate surprises."

"I know. That's what makes this one perfect."

"That logic makes no sense."

"Trust me."

"I don't trust you. You tried to convince me that eating chocolate for breakfast was a balanced meal because it contained milk."

"It does contain milk! And calcium! Very nutritious!"

"You were seventeen, Hoseok. You should have known better."

"I was a growing boy! I needed nutrients!"

You laugh despite yourself, and the sound echoes off the low ceiling of the izakaya.

It's embarrassing how easy it is to fall back into this rhythm with him, like your brain has been storing all these conversation patterns for five years just waiting for him to come back.

"What kind of surprise?"

"The kind you'll only find out if you come see my apartment."

"That's manipulation."

"That's incentive."

"That's emotional blackmail."

"That's friendship."

Fucker.

You drain the rest of your beer in one long pull, partly for courage and partly to delay having to respond. The alcohol seems to have erased your usually reliable sense of self-preservation.

And maybe that's what you need right now. Maybe you need to stop protecting yourself from every possible disappointment and just… see what happens.

Maybe you need to remember what it feels like to trust someone who used to know all your secrets.

"If I come see your place," you say carefully, "and if I hate your surprise, I'm leaving immediately."

"Deal. But you won't hate it."

"I probably will."

"You definitely won't."

"I have a very high hate-to-like ratio when it comes to surprises. Remember my sixteenth birthday?"

His face changes. "Oh. Shit. Yeah, I remember."

Of course he remembers.

He's the one who spent three hours sitting outside the bathroom door, talking to you through the wood while you had a complete meltdown because your mom had thrown you a surprise party and invited half your class and you couldn't handle being the center of attention like that.

"Your mom meant well," he says quietly.

"I know she meant well. But I told her I didn't want a party, and she threw one anyway because she thought I was just being shy. And then I locked myself in the bathroom like a lunatic while twenty people ate cake and wondered where the birthday girl went."

"You weren't a lunatic. You were overwhelmed."

"I was pathetic."

"You were sixteen and dealing with more shit than anyone knew." His voice has gone serious in a way that makes you uncomfortable. "And I should have known better than to help her plan it."

"You were just being a good friend."

"I'm still trying to be a good friend," he says, and there's something in his tone that makes you look up from your beer.

This man who used to be a boy who used to climb through your bedroom window just to sit on your floor and read comics. Who used to walk you home from school even though his house was in the opposite direction. Who used to know exactly what to say to make you laugh when you were crying about some stupid teenage drama.

Who disappeared from your life for five years and somehow found his way back in the span of twenty-four hours.

"Fine," you say, and immediately regret it. "But I'm taking the couch."

His smile is so bright it should be illegal.

"Deal. But you're gonna love the surprise, Capy. I promise."

"I doubt that."

"You love being wrong about things."

"I love being right about you being an idiot."

"Same thing, really."

He signals for the check, already bouncing slightly in his seat with excitement.

You watch him count out bills with the kind of gesture that suggests his porn money isn't quite as abundant as he likes to pretend.

His apartment is probably just as small and depressing as yours.

He's probably just as lost and lonely as you are.

He's probably just as scared of growing up and becoming a real person with real responsibilities and real consequences.

But at least you can be lost and scared together.

At least for tonight.

"Ott?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you still like strawberry milk?"

The question comes out of nowhere, surprising both of you.

But something about the beer and the warm light and the familiar rhythm of your bickering has loosened something in your chest, some speck of control you've been maintaining since you walked into that izakaya.

His smile goes soft around the edges.

"Yeah. I do. Do you still put way too much sugar in your coffee?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

It's such a small thing—strawberry milk and oversweetened coffee—but somehow it feels enormous.

Like proof that some essential part of each of you has remained unchanged despite everything else that's shifted and grown and broken apart.

Like maybe those kids are still in there somewhere, waiting to be found again.

"Ready to go?" he asks, standing and pulling on his jacket.

"No. But let's go anyway."

"That's the spirit, Capy."

You follow him out into the cool Osaka night, where the neon signs reflect off wet pavement and streets are full of people pretending they know where they're going.

And for the first time since you moved here, you think maybe you don't need to know where you're going.

Maybe you just need to trust that wherever Hoseok is leading you, it'll be worth the trip.

Even if it scares the hell out of you.

Four flights of stairs later, you're questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

"Exercise," you mutter, gripping the railing as Hoseok bounds ahead like some kind of demented mountain goat. "Right. Because what this night needed was cardio."

"Almost there!" he calls back, not even slightly winded. "Just think of it as pre-modeling conditioning!"

"I'm thinking of it as cruel and unusual punishment."

His apartment door is covered in stickers—anime characters you don't recognize, band logos from groups that probably broke up in 2001, and what appears to be a holographic Pikachu giving a thumbs up.

It's aggressively juvenile and somehow perfectly him.

"Don't judge the door art," he says, fumbling with his keys. "It came with the apartment."

"It absolutely did not."

"Okay, fine, I may have added some personality over the years. Sue me."

The door swings open and you step into what can only be described as organized chaos.

The apartment is small but noticeably bigger than your shoebox—which isn't saying much, but still manages to feel spacious by comparison.

Manga volumes are stacked in towering columns against every wall, art supplies scattered across a desk positioned near the window, and clothes draped over furniture like fabric ghosts.

"Welcome to Casa de Ott!" he announces, spreading his arms wide and nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. "Home sweet chaotic home."

You scan the space, taking in the details.

The couch looks like it was salvaged from a 1980s office waiting room. There's a small TV balanced precariously on a stack of manga, and the kitchen is basically a corner with a mini-fridge and what might generously be called a stove.

"It's…" you start.

"Terrible? Depressing? A fire hazard?"

"I was going to say small."

"Small is a nice way of putting it. I prefer 'cozy' or 'efficiently designed.'"

Your eyes land on a red sketchbook lying open on the low table, pages covered in detailed drawings that make you stop mid-step. You can't make out the specifics from this distance, but before you can guess the contents, Hoseok is screeching.

"Oh shit," Hoseok says, following your gaze. He lunges forward and slams the sketchbook closed, clutching it to his chest like a shield. "Those are, uh, not for virgin eyes."

"Virgin eyes?" You raise an eyebrow. "I'm twenty-six, Ott. I've seen naked people before."

"Yeah, but not my naked people. These are my professionally naked people. Very different."

"I'm literally going to model for this stuff, remember?"

He freezes, sketchbook still pressed against his chest.

"So we're not doing hypothetical anymore?"

Shit, he's right—somewhere between the beer and the banter and the way he looked at you when you called him your friend, the theoretical became decidedly less theoretical.

"I…" You falter, suddenly aware of how close you're standing. "Beer. You mentioned beer."

"Right. Beer. Very important. Life-sustaining beverage." He's still holding the sketchbook like a security blanket. "Kitchen's over there. Help yourself. I'm just going to put this away where it can't traumatize anyone."

He disappears down a narrow hallway, and you make your way to the kitchen area.

The refrigerator is covered in delivery menus and what appears to be a drawing of a cat wearing a top hat.

Inside, there are exactly three items: beer, leftover ramen, and a container of something that might once have been vegetables.

"Your food situation is concerning," you call out.

"I survive on convenience store cuisine and pure artistic passion!" comes his muffled reply from what you assume is his bedroom.

You grab two beers and settle onto the couch, which is actually more comfortable than it looks.

The apartment feels lived-in despite its chaos—or maybe because of it.

There's something appealingly unpretentious about the space, like Hoseok just exists here without trying to impress anyone.

"Okay," he says, emerging from the hallway with his hands behind his back and a grin that should probably be illegal. "Ready for your surprise?"

Every muscle in your body tenses. "I told you I hate surprises."

"And I told you this one's different. This one's going to change your entire worldview on surprises."

"My worldview on surprises is based on sound psychological principles and extensive personal trauma. One cute whatever-it-is isn't going to—"

He brings his hands forward, revealing a small, furry creature with enormous dark eyes and a long, fluffy tail.

You stop breathing.

"Capy," he says, his voice soft with obvious pride, "meet Momo."

The sugar glider—because that's clearly what she is—sits perfectly still in his cupped palms, studying you with the kind of intense curiosity usually reserved for wildlife documentaries.

She's tiny, maybe the size of a hamster, with gray fur and cream markings that make her look like she's wearing a tiny vest.

"Holy shit," you whisper.

"Language," Hoseok scolds, but he's grinning. "She's a lady."

"You have a sugar glider."

"I have Momo. She's not just any sugar glider. She's the most perfect sugar glider in the history of sugar gliders."

As if hearing her cue, Momo shifts slightly in his palms, studying you with what can only be described as deep suspicion.

"Can I…" you start, then stop. "Is she friendly?"

"She's cautious with new people, but she's never actually bitten anyone. Well, except that one time with my neighbor, but he deserved it."

"What did your neighbor do?"

"Tried to pet her without permission. Momo has very strong opinions about consent."

You extend one finger slowly, and Momo sniffs it delicately, her tiny nose twitching as she processes your scent.

After a moment of consideration, she pulls back and immediately scurries up Hoseok's arm to perch on his shoulder, as far from you as possible.

"Well," you say, trying to keep your voice casual, "that's… fine. I don't care if a rodent likes me or not."

"She's a marsupial, actually. And she just needs time to warm up to new people."

"I said I don't care."

But there's something distinctly annoying about being rejected by something the size of a hamster.

You're a perfectly likeable person. You've never done anything to offend small mammals.

"She's very discerning," Hoseok says, clearly trying not to laugh at your obvious wounded pride. "High standards."

"So you rescued a sugar glider."

"I rescued the most perfect sugar glider."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true. Look at her little hands! And her tail! And the way she tilts her head when she's thinking!"

You look at him instead—at the way his entire face lights up when he talks about Momo, the gentle way he cradles her, the obvious pride in his voice.

This is a side of Hoseok you've never seen before, tender and protective and completely unguarded.

It's dangerous how much you like it.

"She's nocturnal," he continues, settling onto the couch beside you with Momo still in his hands. "So she's most active when I'm working late. She keeps me company during those long drawing sessions."

"Does she approve of your career choices?"

"She's very supportive of the arts. Aren't you, princess?"

Momo makes a soft chittering sound that might be agreement or might be a request for food.

Either way, you can't deny it's adorable.

"How long have you had her?"

"About eighteen months. She was really skittish at first—wouldn't let me touch her for weeks. But now…" He strokes her tiny back with one finger. "Now she's spoiled rotten."

You watch as Momo climbs onto his shoulder, then leaps gracefully to the back of the couch. The movement is so fluid it barely registers as motion—one second she's with Hoseok, the next she's exploring the cushions near your head.

"She's showing off," he says fondly. "She likes to glide around the apartment when she's skittish."

"Glide?"

"Sugar gliders have these membranes between their legs—see? She can glide from the bookshelf to the couch, couch to the desk, basically anywhere she wants to go. It's like having a tiny flying squirrel roommate."

As if to demonstrate, Momo launches herself from the couch back to Hoseok's shoulder, the movement so quick and graceful you barely catch it.

"That's incredible."

"I know. She's basically a superhero. A tiny, adorable superhero who costs me a fortune in specialized food and vet bills."

The beer is wearing off, leaving you feeling suddenly, acutely sober.

Clear-headed enough to realize what you've gotten yourself into tonight—agreeing to pose for Hoseok's hentai manga, coming to his apartment, letting yourself get charmed by his ridiculous pet.

"Ott," you say carefully.

"Yeah?"

"I was drunk earlier. When I said I'd… help with your reference situation."

His face doesn't change, but something shifts in his posture.

"How drunk?"

"Drunk enough to suggest something stupid."

"And now?"

"Now I'm sober enough to know it was stupid."

He's quiet for a moment, watching Momo explore the couch cushions.

When he speaks, his voice is casual in a way that doesn't fool either of you. "Too late, Capy. I'm already planning our first session."

"Hoseok—"

"Think about it. Professional artistic collaboration between old friends. Very sophisticated. Very mature."

"Nothing about this situation is mature."

"I'm hurt. Deeply wounded by your lack of faith in my professionalism."

Despite yourself, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. "Your professionalism in drawing pornographic manga."

"Adult-oriented sequential art with emotional depth and realistic character development."

"You keep saying that like it makes it sound more legitimate."

"Because it is more legitimate. You'll see when we start working together."

The assumption in his voice—that you will, in fact, go through with this insane arrangement—should annoy you.

Instead, it makes something flutter in your chest that you absolutely refuse to acknowledge.

"I didn't actually agree to anything," you say, but the protest sounds weak even to you.

"You suggested it. I accepted. Contract sealed."

"That's not how contracts work."

"It's how friendship contracts work."

Friendship contracts.

As if you're still twelve and sealing deals with pinky promises and shared secrets.

Except you're not twelve anymore, and this isn't about friendship.

Or maybe it is, and that's what makes it dangerous.

"I should get going," you say, making no move to actually leave.

"It's late. Train's probably stopped running."

"It's not even eleven."

"But you're comfortable now. Look, Momo likes you."

You glance down to find the sugar glider eyeing you from the floor.

"She's still giving me the cold shoulder."

"She usually hides when strangers are here, so this is actually progress."

"Great. I've been upgraded from 'immediate threat' to 'tolerable presence.'"

"It's a very exclusive club. You should feel honored. You've basically been officially approved for apartment privileges."

"What kind of privileges?"

"Sleeping on the couch when you're too tired to go home. Raiding my refrigerator. Critiquing my life choices in person instead of via text."

The casual way he lists these domestic intimacies makes your chest tight.

Like he's already decided you belong here, in his chaos, part of his routine.

"I'm not sleeping on your couch, Ott."

"Why not? It's surprisingly comfortable. And I'll be in my room working when you get lonely and need someone to bother."

"I don't get lonely."

He gives you a look that suggests he sees right through that particular lie.

"Fine," you say, because arguing seems more exhausting than just giving in. "Now shut up and give me another beer."

"Can't. You said you're sober now. Can't have you making any more questionable decisions."

"I make excellent decisions."

"Says the woman who just agreed to sleep on a stranger's couch."

"You're not a stranger. You're Ott. Annoying but familiar."

He grins at that, wide and pleased, like being called annoying is the highest compliment you could give him.

And maybe, in your particular language, it is.

if you liked this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee!! ♥'ﾟ௰ﾟ'♥ https://ko-fi.com/jungkoode

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[writing-fanics]

More Than Anything

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

[summary: final battle lives lost but the show must go on!]

Masterlist > chapter I > chapter ii > chapter iii > chapter iv

[a/n: since it’s technically been a month Lucifer and Y/n’s relationship has blossomed but not into a romantic one just yet. Just maybe the occasional flirting but I will have flashbacks to moments to have it not feel rushed.]

[also y/n likes making cursed animal combinations like a dolphin with wings.. being in hell for a month has brought her out of her shell so much she’s much happier. also the reader is whatever height you are, but to me she's slightly taller than Lucifer. sorry if this seems rushed.. its alot of work y/n trained with vaggie in weapon combat. she also kinda had help from lucifer. if ya'll want I'll write another side chapter about what lucifer and her did in combat..]

word count: 3,789 {6-7 pages)

[warning: major spoilers for episode 7-8: mentions of sex: slight smut in the end (full poorly written smut in side chapter): death spoilers:

song

[Y/n] helped prepare the hotel while Charlie and Vaggie were out, she still couldn't help but think that if it all were to end tomorrow. Should she confess her feelings to Lucifer. She tried but failed weeks ago, and now with extermination day being 24 hours away. But even then would it even matter, if she did? If they were going to die what's the point? But then..

"Ugh, why do feelings have to be so complicated?!" She groaned to herself, as she helped fortify the hotel. In her own thoughts. Yet, she remembered how awkward Lucifer was acting this morning when they were eating breakfast. It could've been because of extermination day in the next 24 hours or maybe something else?

"A-Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, at Lucifer. Who scoffed in response and smiled nervously, "Y-Yeah, I'm alright fine perfectly fine." He sweats, as he looked at her nervously.

He watched as she left the manor to go help his daughter and the hotel prepare, and cursed to himself.. God, he was absolutely infatuated with her and couldn't even confess his feelings, for her. What if she dies? No don't think that he couldn't even bare the thought of losing her again.

He reached into his pocket and revealed the rubber duck with butterfly wings, and started at it softly.

[ Flashback ]

[Y/n] bit down on her lower lip, as she tried to make her first rubber duck. Squinting her eyes as she tried, to attach some butterfly wings. She smiled, jumping out of her chair in her guest room and ran down the hallway. She bursts into the room,“Lu, I did it!” She exclaimed, holding the rubber duck in her hands. Flapping its wings occasionally lifting itself off the palm of her hand. Flapping its wings.

“Wow, you did an even better job than me.” He said, causing her to blush. But shaking her head, “Nah, yours are way better.” She said, smiling looking at him.

She looked down at the rubber duck nervously, the extermination was only a few days away and people were preparing for a bloodbath a massacre, an all out war.

“I-I..” She sighed and downcasted at the ground, before shaking her head and smiled. “I made caramel apple pancakes.” She said, smile and Lucifer’s eyes lit up.

“Why didn’t you just say so!” He exclaimed, before she knew it he was already out the door of his study. Towards the delicious caramel apple pancakes.

She smiled sadly, looking down at the rubber duck. Pressing the secret button on its wing. “I love you!” It said its robotic child like voice exclaimed, and she looked down sadly. “I feel butterflies in my stomach when I’m with you,” she clenched her fist, almost crushing the duck but stopped. Looking at it sadly, “I really am pathetic.” she sighed, she walked over towards the shelf.

That had a rubber duck with similar top hat, to that of Lucifer and hesitantly placed it beside it. On the shelf, before backing away and leaving going downstairs to eat breakfast with Lucifer.

- ——

Lucifer entered his study after [Y/n] had left, to help prepare for war being a recently fallen angel and all. He sat at his desk, he glanced over at the shelf. Noticing a new rubber duck, figuring she must’ve placed it there.

He admired it in awe, the translucent butterfly wings. He remembered how much she loves butterflies, he remembered when she joked about combining the two. A Duckerfly. A duck with wings. Even then she was absolutely adorable, her jokes always seemed to make him laugh.

He titled his head noticing a hidden button on its wings, pressing it curiously. “I’m a duck with wings!” The duck said, and he chuckled.

“Duckerfly!”

“I love you!”

He stopped for a moment, processing what the duck had just said. Pressing the button again, “I get butterflies when I’m with you,” His heart seemed to skip a beat, he pressed it again.. and again and again. Until it looped back to it saying, ‘I love you.’

-------------------

[Y/n] smiled as she returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Charlie. “Thank you for everything,” thanked Charlie, looking up at the older woman smiling. "Ever since I was little," She said, looking up at her, "The stories, my dad used to tell me about you inspired me." and the older woman, looked at her and smiled her heart swelling with joy.

She chuckled softly, "When I was in heaven, I thought he'd forgotten about me." said [Y/n], her gaze soften as she reminisced of memories of the past. "Seems, it was quite the opposite who could've thought he'd tell stories of me to his own daughter." She said, smiling as she took Charlie by both hands.

She looked down at her, "You're like the child I've always wanted but never had," She said, the princess of hell couldn't help but chuckle, reminding her of the weird rivalry both her father and Alastor had.

"But, I'm not trying to replace your mother." She reiterated, "Not at all, I just want you to know. That I'm always here for you." She said, looking at her. Charlie pulled back from the hug, "I can see why my dad likes you so much," said Charlie, causing the woman in front of her cheeks to go red.

"Ah...Um.." She mumbled, but Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, "It's okay, I think the two of you would be cute together." said Charlie, smiling. Even though she missed her mom Lilith, and that her dad might still possibly miss her. She couldn't help but notice even though on the small instances, her and her dad have spoke before all this.

She could see how happy he was having [Y/n] here, in Hell. She noticed the occasional flirting. Yes, it might sound weird but she loved seeing her dad happy more than anything. "U-Um, thank you." stammered [Y/n].

------------

[Y/n]'s eyes widened as the force-shield shattered, but she snapped back as an exorcists attacked her and she could've sworn, she heard her shout traitor. She made quick use of her weapon, and ended the exorcists life by cutting off her head.

Patches of her clothes covered in yellow ichor, a tiny cut on her cheek she sustained when fighting an exorcists. But slowly, everything seemed to go downhill as the one who was supposed to take care of Adam. Alastor had suddenly disappeared leaving Charlie to fear the worst.

[Y/n]'s eyes widened in horror as Sir Pentious' airship was destroyed, right before everyone's eyes. "No!" Charlie wailed, as tears brimmed her eyes in shock. She'd barely gotten to know Sir Pentious, in the month she was in Hell.

But, he seemed like a good person who genuinely wanted to redeem himself. Who gave trust to his friends. and in the end made the ultimate sacrifice. Gripping the weapon tightly in her hands, she charged towards Adam.

Almost impaling him, but he dodged out of the way. "Why look who it is?" He said, looking down at her mockingly. She glared at him, "Why isn't it little miss traitor." He said, and she snarled gritting her teeth as she lunged towards him, but he laughed and dodge.

"Wow, you look even worse than you did in Heaven." He mocked, and she pursed her lips eyes filled with rage. As she dodged his attacks, "Says the arrogant bastard who let himself go after Eden," She spat, and he glared at her sending a beam that almost hit her.

But wasn't so lucky about the next one, causing her to groan in pain. "Wow, you really suck at this don't you." He laughed, god she wanted to rip out his fucking tongue. "Do you ever stop fucking talking?!" She shouted, angrily.

Adam dodged her attacks as she sent them his way. Swiftly flying out of the way angering her, as her eyes started glowing as she swings at him with the angelic weapon. She glared at him angrily, “All this for a dick you can’t suck!” shouted Adam, and she glared at him angrily. Gritting her teeth, “Ugh! Fuck you.” she spat. Missing him once again.

“You really are pathetic you know that?” He laughed. Before she could even react a yellow beam, struck her already bleeding side. Gold ichor dripping from the wound, her movement faltering, "S-Shut the fuck up!" She shouted angrily, but a blast sent her flying backwards. Causing her to crash into, the hotel knocking her unconscious.

“Y/n!” Charlie shouted, watching as she plummet to the ground. But she didn’t, and felt a pair of arms wrap around her holding her, she looked up and smiled. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, “Lu,” She whispered.

Then her eyes widened, “Please tell me you didn’t hear that.” She looked embarrassed, cheeks red. Lucifer cocked his head to the side,“Not all of it just the, a dick you can’t suck part.” He said, her cheeks bright red. How she wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in a cave.

She pursed her lips inward and groaned, “I would kiss you now-” Her cheeks turned red, as a tomato as he said that. Even more so as he looked down at her with a mischievous grin, “But, we can do that later.” He said, a grin on his face then turning to are at Adam.

Glaring at him as well as she pulled away from Lucifer, “I’ll take you up on that offer, but first.” She clicked her tongue, gripping her weapon as she glared at Adam.

Seething her teeth, as she gripped the weapon tightly. “Let’s get this fucker.” She spat, with swift speed flying off towards the angel.

Lucifer smiled watching as she flew off, “That’s my girl,” He smiled, as the two of them flew off towards Adam. Following after her, the look of anger on his face seeing his daughter in danger.

Lucifer cackled as he looks down at Adam, dodging his attacks."So, this is what you've been up to since Eden?" said Lucifer, a he flew around him."Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy." He said, as he transformed into a snake. Adam grabbing him by the tail, and trying to throw him. But before he could Lucifer transforms into a duck. "You judgin' me? You're the most hated being in all of creations." Adam shouted, angrily at him.

"Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer." said Lucifer, using his fingers to make a 'V' shape bringing it to his lips. "or the second. Bow-chicka-wow-wow." said Lucifer, as he makes a thrusting motion in the air. Angering Adam, "I'll fucking end you!!" Adam shouted, as he chased after Lucifer.

[Y/n] flew up towards them, she laughed mischievously, as she transformed into different animals. Teasing him, “For someone who calls himself dick master, your own wives didn’t even want yours!” She laughed, grinning as you transformed into a dolphin with wings.

She slapped him using the tail across the face. Smiling mischievously, “Ugh! You bitch!” He shouted, angrily trying to grab her but she ducked. Flying away swiftly.

“The bully gets bullied,” She cackled, making faces at him before disappearing in a poof of yellow clouds. She giggled, as Lucifer took her by the hand. And the two of took pride in dancing to dodge, Adam’s attacks. “Oh, can’t catch us..” The two of them teased.

“That duck you left me,” He said, as the two of you disappeared from Adam, dodging his attacks. Her cheeks turned red as she looked at him, “I love you too,” He said, and her heart swelled with joy. Really was he saying this now?!

Adam gagged in disgust, “Stop moving you freaks!” Adam shouted, causing the king of hell to shake his head, “Hey, I’m trying to confess my love over here!” shouted Lucifer, causing her cheeks to turn even redder. Adam growing angrier, as he glared at them.

Adam groaned in anger, as he sent a beam of yellow ichor towards them. But Lucifer holding [Y/n] close protectively, as he swiftly pulled her out of the way. “Charlie!” She shouted worriedly, and swiftly as she said that Lucifer was off towards his daughter.

[ slight time skip ]

[Y/n] placed her hand on her bleeding side, as she stood up to her feet. Glaring at Adam as she stood beside everyone else, "You don't get to end this." Adam said, as he stood to his feet weakly. Climbing out of the hole, "I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man," He shouted, looking at the sinners and demons in front of him, "and you're just some fucking clown or something." He spat, glaring at them.

"I started everything on Earth." He shouted, rambling. "All of mankind came from theses fucking nuts." He shouted, staring at them. While they just stood their listening to his tantrum, "You all should be worshipping me." He screamed.

"you ungrateful, disgusting fucking losers!" He shouted,Adam wails, and everyone stars at him in shock seeing the dagger protruding from his stomach. "Hey, you got something sticking out of your..your thing there." said Lucifer, pointing nonchalantly at the dagger sticking out of his stomach.

Adam fell forward, revealing Niffty holding the blade in her hands. "Niffty?" Charlie said in shock. Niffty sat there for a moment before, "Stab! Stab! Stab!" Niffty shouted, as she laughed manically. As she continued to stab him repeatedly. "Blood! ha ha ha!" She laughed, a crazed look in her eyes.

Lute screamed, as she rushed towards Adam turning him over as he died. Crying over her friend and leader, who sent her a final smile before dying. "It's over," Charlie and [Y/n], said glaring down at Lute.

"Take your little friends," said Lucifer, as he glared at Lute angrily in his demon form, "and go home." He shouted, is voice distorted and demonic. "Please.!" He asked, relaxed and calm yet with a sinister tone to his voice. Everyone watched, as the exorcists retreated back to heaven.

Lucifer sighed and turned back towards everyone, "Alright who wants some pancakes." asked Lucifer, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]'s waist. "This lovely lady right here makes some delicious, caramel apple pancakes." He said, a huge grin on his face. She smiled sheepishly, as she looked at everyone. Niffty raised her hand. "But first, I need to get this bandaged." She said, looking at the others smiling softly as she pointed at the wound.

She winced in pain as she climbed, over the rubble. “I’m okay,” She smiled, looking at Lucifer. She looked over towards Charlie, as she stared at the destroyed hotel. Everyone looked at her sadly, as she stared at the destruction and bloodshed that the war had caused. Holding KeeKee in her arms, she looked down at the banner they had made for Sir Pentious month's ago. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes, realizing the ultimate sacrifice.

"He did it for us, the ultimate sacrifice," Charlie sang, as she choked back a sob. Vaggie placed her hand on her shoulder, "He gave me his trust, and look how we pay the price," She sang, as she walked away. She looked around at the cranage and destruction, "This bloodshed could have been avoided." She sang sadly, even though they won. She felt as if in a way it was all for nothing with the lives that were lost, "If I convinced Heaven to work together," She sang, tearfully.

She walked over towards the ledge, revealing the destroyed Hazbin Hotel and what remains, "I took a hotel and I destroyed it," She sang sadly, seeing the damage she couldn't help but blame herself for, "I know I could have done better." She sang, as she hugged her self tears welling up in her eyes, as she fell to her knees. "Better, instead of letting you down," She sang, looking down at the ground.

 'Come on little lady, why the frown?' Lucifer sang, as he looked down at his daughter, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'In the last ten-thousand years. You're the first one to change this town' He sang, standing up on his feet getting in front of her, 'You can do this, now I know it!' He sang, placing his hand underneath Charlie's chin. 'For your story has just begun'

"You can't quit now, hell, you owe it," [Y/n] sang, as she smiled at Charlie warmly, "There's still damage to be undone," sang Lucifer, as he smiled at his daughter.

"You've changed my mind," He sang.

"You've touched their hearts." sang [Y/n].

"Found the good in souls gone bad"

"The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone,"

Lucifer looked at his daughter triumphantly, and sang."But by God, Charlie!" [Y/n]wrapped an arm around her, "The show, it must go on" Lucifer and [Y/n] sang, Charlie looked up towards her friends.

“We can do this!” Charlie’s friends sang, as they looked down at her smiling comforting her, making the best of the situation. “We can build it!” everyone sang, smiling at her.

‘Best hotel that you’ve ever seen!’

‘Twice the bedrooms’

‘We can fill it’

“With more sinners than you can dream,” Lucifer sang, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]’s waist, a slight tint of red appearing on her cheeks. “It starts with you, you know, it's true.” They sang, as they looked down at her smiling. Hopeful despite the hotel being destroyed, despite the sinners lost.

“Fulfill your destiny!” Charlie looked at her friend, and wiped away her tears and smiled looking at them. “So long as I've got all of you with me!” Charlie smiled, as she wrapped her arms around them.

[Y/n] spreads her wings and smiles, as she flies around. Helping everyone work on rebuilding the hotel. From scratch to be grander than ever. As she sang to help rebuild the hotel she, still couldn’t believe that he loved her back. Almost feeling like a dream that he told her he loved her back. Her heart still skipping a beat, as a wave of relief seemed to wash away.

After a seemingly endless period of wallowing in self-pity, she had finally found happiness with him. With him by her side, she was filled with a sense of anticipation for what was to come in the future.

Suddenly, he scooped her up in his arms like a bride, and she let out a yelp of surprise. As he leaned down towards her, she felt his lips against hers, and a soft gasp escaped her. Her body tensed up in response as her heart began to pound against her chest, overcome with a mixture of nervousness and relief. Her eyes slowly fluttering shut as she melted into the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning more into the kiss.

He whispered into her ear, causing her to shudder and turn beet red. Despite her flustered demeanor, he couldn't help but chuckle softly. Furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at him, and playfully leapt out of his arms.

Transforming into a duck with butterfly wings, and flying off. Lucifer chasing after her, as she switched between each forms giggling, as they continued to help rebuild the hotel. She smiled, as magic flew through her fingers butterflies flew around the hotel glowing with yellow ichor.

Everyone stood at the portrait of Sir Pentious, memorial saluting the great general who sacrifed himself for his friends. “We can do this,” everyone sang, as they stared at the portrait mourning the loss. But a smile on their face, knowing that his sacrifice guaranteed them a better and hopeful future towards redeeming sinner.

“We can do this,” Charlie sang, as she stared at the “We'll be better,” everyone sang smiling, as they remembered Sir Pentious. Saluting their fallen friend.

“We'll be better,”

‘Though redemption may take a while’

“Though it may take a while,” Charlie sang, smiling as [Y/n] placed her hand in her shoulder.

‘Wayward sinners, clear their ledger’

‘And we're doing it with a smile’ Alastor sang, as he appeared between them. Charlie’s eyes lighting up smiling, as she hugged him. “Yeah!” everyone except Lucifer, smiled as they looked towards Alastor.

‘We made a difference, wait and see’

‘We're gonna do this, you and me.’ Charlie and Vaggie sang, as they hugged eachother.

As they walked out towards the courtyard with a hopeful smile. [Y/n] smiled as Lucifer took her hand into his squeezing, she looked down at him and smiled. Fireworks lit up the red sky of hell, as they looked at the newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel.

Lucifer used his magic shrinking the key, and handing it to Charlie. Who smiled looking at the hotel, “And then tomorrow, it will be a fuckin’ happy day in Hell!” They all sang, as they looked at the newly completed and rebuilt grander than ever. Hazbin Hotel.

[side chapter sneak peek]

Lucifer and [Y/n}, had left suddenly after saying goodbye to Charlie and everyone saying they needed some. "rest" But Angel knew all to well, he saw right past through it. "Yeah, they're about to fuck." Angel said, earning a groan of disgust from everyone. In particularly, Charlie. "Ew, that's my dad." said Charlie, in disgust looking up at Angel Dust.

"What? It's pretty obvious!" He exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest. Before looking off in the distance curiously, "I wonder what kind of kink the Short King is into." He wondered curiously, he took notice of the apples.

Charlie covered her ears, while everyone started walking off. "He's definitely into food play, whipped cream and apples." Angel continued, and "Lala! I can't hear you!" Charlie shouted, as she walked off. "Hey, Charlie give me Y/n's number so I can ask!" He shouted, running after her, "No!" shouted Charlie, as she walked towards the hotel.

"Aw, come one I need to know!" Angel shouted, chasing after Charlie.

meanwhile.. in lucifer's room{ya'll will get the actual smut later so rn its the morning after}

Lucifer's eyes fluttered open and he was met with the most wonderous sight, of [Y/n] and her crinkled up nose as she slept letting out the occasional snore. He smiled softly, as he brushed his fingers against her cheek causing her to smile. His heart seemed to flutter, how did he get so lucky?

"Aw, Lucifer." She said playfully, looking at him as he attacked her neck with kisses, "I've gotta make breakfast." She said, and he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. "Mm, not yet." He said, as he pulled her underneath the covers. She was in for a long morning.

a/n: no y/n didn't know that Lilith was in heaven im not kidding. She had no idea, but with her coming into play for season 2. There will def be some drama stirring, if she's a villian or not.

also lemme know if theres any gaps so i can go back and fix them.

taglist: @supernerdycookietrashblrr @96jnie @mit-suri @koji-akeme @dinawss @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @wanderlustingcastaway @only-cherry-blossom @runaway-expert @buubsii @darkknightsandredrobins @kokoneai5 @colletepop @asheitoshin @thesimppotato11 @cherry-4200 @jolynetodd @blaire-blake @thedarkkitten @astrxwitch

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy

a yandere art professor Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU...

CHAPTER MAP-> part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16

I.

-You’re a favorite amongst the studio art students at the university where you model. Not because of your looks, but because of your exceptional ability at sitting still. When you retreat inside your mind and you’re sitting in a position that doesn’t have any pinch points, you can go a solid hour without moving a muscle. 

-Maybe it helps, that you were once an art student too. You’ve studied the classical positions immortalized by the greats. The drama of the Renaissance martyrs to the quiet repose of the Impressionists to the silent anguish of the Pre Raphaelites. You do a damn good Odalisque, if you don’t say so yourself.

-You’ve been doing this for a while, and you’re pretty comfortable with it. That is, until you walk into the first day of Figure Drawing 101 to find the most handsome man you’ve ever seen behind the desk–decidedly not the usual portly, gray-haired, female professor who hired you years ago. He is tall, and dark, with soulful black eyes that make your lady parts ache. It’s incredibly embarrassing when your mitt veritably disappears in his in a cordial handshake (good lord, what poetic, long-fingered hands!) and you almost forget your own name. 

-He is incredibly gracious about your impression of a goldfish at feeding time. Undoubtedly, he’s used to this effect he has on women. Deep down, he must be laughing at you, and this more than anything helps you get a grip as you disappear into your little supply closet to change. 

-You emerge in your pretty paisley-print robe that sweeps the floor, and you realize you haven’t been nervous about taking off your clothes in class since your very first day on this job. Your palms are actually sweating, as you perch on the model stand with your legs crossed, watching him out the corner of your eye. He is stupidly dapper, in a dark tweed suit and tie. His hair swings down into his eyes as he reads something on his desk, and you’re not proud of what you would give for the privilege to run your fingers through that fluffy dark hair. 

-Thoroughly disgusted with yourself, you’re grateful when it’s time for class to begin. You’re surrounded by young adults who are [mostly] eager to learn with charcoal in hand. All eyes are on you, but its Professor Wick’s eyes you feel like a weight on your skin when the robe slides from your shoulders. You are so glad you can blame the air conditioning for your state of…attention. 

-You start with quick warm ups, then some five minute studies, and finally an extended pose with small breaks in between. When the kids take a break in the middle of the three hour period you slide back on your robe and make a round of the room, perusing the sketches. You can already tell who will be at the top of the class, but also who has potential for improvement if they work hard and practice. And some…better be good at math, because art is not their thing.

You do not hear him behind you, until he speaks. “I'm not sure how your clavicle could be at that angle…unless it was broken in two places.” You cover your smile with your hand as you glance back over your shoulder at him, a hot blush spreading like wildfire up your neck for some ridiculous reason. 

Mere proximity, you fear.

“Maybe their professor will set them straight.”

He chuckles with a charming self-deprecation that you find painfully endearing, scrubbing the back of his neck. 

“I like to see where everyone stands on the first day. I promise that lessons in anatomy will be forthcoming.” He only meets your eyes for a bare second as he tells you this, but you are astonished you do not spontaneously combust.

TBC...

___

pinterest board/photo credits

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.6

Authority ° Lee Felix

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: SMUT 18+ only, college AU WC:1.6k +

TW: experienced Felix, inexperienced reader, intercourse, cumshots, sub Felix, Felix cries, mention of safe word, first time domming, grinding

A/N, another chapter after less than a week?? I'm spoiling you guys ahah ;), I hope you like the chapter and I also have a super important announcement regarding the story so go to my blog and find out <3

Han scrambled up at the voices and rushed to pull his pants and underwear up before the door swung open violently.

“Hyung, we're naked, you can't just come in!” Hannie whined like a baby, he was the baby of the trio after all. Changbin tsked at him and Chan simply rolled his eyes, it wasn't the first time they were naked around each other and clearly wouldn't be the last. Meanwhile you laid on the table, front and cheek completely squished against it. The tiredness from the previous day had gotten to you, maybe having your first time and another fuck not even 12 hours apart hadn't been a good idea. Hyunjin had treated you so well that you were barely sore in the morning but Hannie had been very intense and you were sure you would feel it the day after. 

Cum started to sleep out of you and drip down your thighs but you were so tired, you just wanted to nap.

“Hey, baby, are you okay?” Chan's voice was soft, you had never heard such softness come from him even if he had always been nothing but wonderful to you. You hummed in response.

“Tired.” Chan giggled at your cute cheeks and droopy eyes.

“Let me clean you up, okay?” Another hum and then you heard shuffling behind you. A soft tissue came in contact with your soiled and puffy pussy and you immediately hissed at the touch and tried to scramble higher up the desk.

“Easy, baby, easy. I'm all done,” the tissue soon disappeared and was replaced by your soft panties and your shorts. Chan dragged a chair near you and then sat down, his legs spread enough to make room for you.

“Come here, baby, let's take a nap, yeah?”  

You didn't let him tell you twice because you all but jumped on him and attached yourself to his body like a koala. Napping with Chris was your favorite activity in the world. As soon as your head hit his shoulder, your eyes closed. The last things you heard were the two older boys chastising Han.

“I can't believe you didn't make her cum!”

“She said it was fine, hyung!”

When you woke up, you were in a different position, on the couch with a jacket draped over your middle. You felt warm and content. 3racha was still working in front of you, how long had you been asleep for? You patted yourself for your phone. 

“Chris?” Your voice was hoarse and tired. The three boys jumped in their seats at the sudden voice. Chan rolled close to you and studied your face as to find any sign of discomfort.

“Slept well baby?” His thumb gently drew circles on your warm cheek and you sighed and melted into the affection.

“Yes, very. Where is my phone?” Changbin, from behind Chan, handed you the device.

“Felix called and he texted, you should text him back,” Changbin had a naughty glint in his eyes, that could only mean one thing.

Felix was the only one of the boys that you were closer to, except for Chan. In all honesty, with all of his cuteness and kindness, the sunshine boy was very hard to dislike and you had no intention of trying.

Lixie:

Hey bubby, Binnie hyung told me you were sleeping, I wanted to know when you wanted to meet :D

You: 

Hey Lixie <3

Sorry I was pretty tired, I had a date with Hyunjin last night and one with Han this morning 

Lixie: 

Are you okay? Sore? :(

You:

A little but don't worry, sweet boy, nothing I can't handle

Did you have a time in mind already for the hangout? <3

Lixie: 

I was thinking next weekend, if it's not too early :D

You: 

It's perfect Lixie, I'll see you next weekend

Lixie:

Rest well, bubby <3

Getting ready for the date with Felix was easy. You felt comfortable around him since you were already friends and the only one of the boys you were friendly with, except for Chan. The fact that you knew what to expect from intercourse in general also helped you greatly, sex now wasn't this big mystery to you anymore, albeit you still had a lot to learn.

You knocked on Felix's door excitedly, this lesson was gonna be fun, you could feel it.

“Hey bubby,” Felix opened the door with one of the biggest and brightest smiles you had ever seen. He was so precious. The boy quickly pulled you into his room.

“So, on the list that Chan gave me it said ‘domming’. Do you want to talk more about that?” your voice was firm and determined, you were excited to try and uncover this new side of you and to feel new things physically.

“Oh, hyung told you already…” his voice was lower than usual. Your hand gently covered his small one and then squeezed, as to spur him on.

“Yeah, I like to not have control, I like to do what other people tell me to do,” his cheeks were dusted with pink and his eyes were round and sparkly, you wanted to eat him up.

“That's okay, I think I can do that, do you have a safe word?”

“Yeah, it's gold league,” he chuckled. Of course it was game related, typical Felix.

“Okay, do you want to play?” a wink from you sent the boy into a blushing and stuttering mess.

“Yes!”

“Put your games on then, bubby.” Felix looked at you confused, but still got up and sat down in front of his computer. Oh how you loved when a man did what you told him, you were starting to feel the thrill some women got from dominating. 

Right when Felix logged into League, you got up.

“Be a good boy, keep playing and let me have my fun, and maybe I'll let you cum at the end if I'm satisfied.” Felix looked at you with big round eyes, his bottom lip slightly jutted out and trembling. A small whimper escaped from his lips when you sat down on his lap, thick thighs on either way of his. 

“Don't hold back or I won't touch you at all.” Felix nodded frantically while still trying to play, he was trying to focus but his mind zeroed on how good your weight felt on his half hard cock. You placed small feather light kisses all over his neck and shoulders, he was wearing a tank top and you almost wanted to cheer at the choice; more skin more surface to play with. When your tongue came in contact with his pulse point on his neck, Felix whimpered and started trembling underneath you, his cock pushed against his short and you could feel it deliciously throb through your panties.

“Miss, please,” he looked and sounded like he was about to shatter but, like a good boy, he kept playing his game. Your hips started to grind harshly on top of his bulge, your clit caught on his zipper so deliciously that in a matter of moments your underwear was ruined by your slick.

“You like to call your girls ‘miss’, Felix?” A whimper and a nod, “what a naughty boy.” At your words a wet patch of precum started to form on Felix's shorts. He was probably close and so were you, both of you were extremely worked up. You needed him inside. 

With swift fingers you unbuttoned his shorts and pulled down his zipper. His cock stood proud in front of you, he wasn't as long as Hyunjin or as thick as Changbin and was even shorter than Han but you were sure he would feel good nonetheless.

“No underwear? Tsk, you're a bad boy.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he sobbed, a fat tear rolled down his cheek but was swiftly caught by your gentle hand.

“Its okay baby, I like bad boys.” Without any other words, you pulled your panties to the side and sank down on him. Two equally pleased moans sounded in the room. Your hips started moving almost immediately, you were too impatient to wait.

“Baby why don't you stop playing your games now and start playing with my little clit? If you can make me cum before you, I'll give you a reward,” your voice sounded sickly sweet like you had never heard before, and Felix complied immediately. His short, small and warm fingers worked wonders on your swollen bud, he was skilled and liked pleasuring others. With how worked up you were and with how good Felix's cock felt rubbing your walls back and forth it didn't take too long for you to feel that familiar pressure start to build inside your guts.

“Oh, baby keep going, I'm so so close.” Felix's hand applied even more pressure to your poor sensitive clit and you came with a long keen. Your hips slowed down while you rode out your high and Felix whined at the change.

“Miss, miss, can I please cum now?” 

“Yes baby, whenever you want.” Your hips picked up the pace and increased it what to Felix seemed tenfold; you were so wet and warm and soft and smelled so good. Your voice was so nice and you took such a great care of him, he had to cum for you.

“Oh miss I'm coming, I'm coming.” You quickly pulled yourself up and off the chair. The front of your dress got shoved down impatiently by your clammy hands and you kneeled in front of your sweet boy.

“Why don't you cum all over me, baby boy?” A hand wrapped around his tiny dick and quickly began to jerk him off. Felix's hips lifted off the chair to follow the movement from your hand, his hands dug into the plush of the armrests. 

Soon white ropes of cum landed on your chest and face while Felix whimpered and thrashed in the chair. 

“Thank you miss,” the sunshine boy sent you a weak but bright smile and you cooed at the sight. 

“You're welcome, baby.”

“Can I pick my reward now?”

@kflixnet

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- The Arrangement

Arranged For Love (Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Everything seemed to be going well for Y/N until it doesn't. Will this life altering event bring her closer to her family. Will this life altering event introduce her to Carlos?

The reader is Y/N, other than that everyone has a name

Y/N was majoring in Business; just like her grandma, Anika Baker had wanted. "You're smart, you're rational and the best of all you're kind" she would tell her grand daughter growing up. That's why she was currently studying to maybe take over her family business when she grew up.

She grew up in a matriarchy, where after the untimely death of her grandfather; her grandmother took the lead and brought the company to where it is now. Eventually, she did step back and let her son, Ivan and daughter-in-law, Rose Aguirre handle it. That was when Y/N was born. The first born of their family, she was so pampered; she got whatever she wanted. She had her dad wrapped around her little pudgy finger.

So, when her parents were away, their grandmother raised her and her siblings. She fed them, helped them with their homework and best of all, told them stories of kings and dragons. Y/N would sit intently while her grandmother would massage her feet after a tiring day at school or give her a head massage when it ached. Y/N would always love spending time with her, one way or another.

Y/N was off too college as soon as she turned 18. She finally got to be back home after 2 years for longer than a few weeks; the reason wasn't something to be happy about since a virus had spread across the world and was killing people at an alarming rate. Which meant school, colleges, offices had all shut down and were working from home. When she hugged her grandma for the first time in 6 months; "You've gotten thinner since the last time I saw you" she squinted her eyes at her grandma. "You know how it is with age, I don't have the appetite anymore" her grandmother reasoned. "Well, you should still eat. I'm gonna make sure you gain weight before I leave" Y/N said determined. "Sure, sweetheart" she laughed. "Let's have food. It's nice to have everyone back home, together for once" she emphasised. Y/N held her grandmother's hand as they walked to the dining table for lunch.

A month or so after she was back, her grandmother had started feeling ill. She wouldn't be able to hold down any food and she had been complaining of a stomach ache. With COVID restrictions, getting an appointment was extremely difficult. After a week or so, thankfully, her dad was now at the doctor's office with his mother. The kids were at home, dotting it down to the regular stomach flu which was taking longer than usual to clear.

What came as a surprise to the family, after a couple tests was that, the matriarch of the house was suffering from stomach cancer. Couple more tests later, and it said that it had advanced quite a bit having spread all over the body. The doctors weren't sure what they could do other than ease her pain. Everyone was crying in their rooms while trying to hold a tough facade in front of Anika, so as to not worry her.

At breakfast, a few days after the diagnosis. "You lot are all cry babies. It's just cancer. I'll get the treatment and be well" Anika smiled. Everyone hoped what she was saying was true. But as the treatments started; things started to get worse for her. The medicines were taking a toll on her. Their once active grandmother was reduced to bathroom runs and staying put in her bed. She barely had the energy to eat on her own.

The matriarch's children were sad and couldn't help but cry since they couldn't do much for their mother other than watch. The grandkids would think of ways to make food exciting for their grandmother. The whole family had come together. They were all living together to care for their ailing mother. "I like this very much" Anika told Y/N. "What do you like, grandma?" she asked. "Having all my children here, fretting over me" she said looking at her 2 children fondly. Y/N smiled, "They always fret over you, for as long as I can remember" she replied. "Hmm...but this feel different...it feels nice" she hummed.

They had a scare a few months later; Anika's health had deteriorated suddenly and needed hospitalisation. When she was admitted in the hospital; everyone went to visit her in turns. "I wish I got to see at least one of my grandkids get married" she said barely above a whisper. She beckoned Y/N forward, "Darling, you're the oldest. You're the smartest. You always listen to your grandma don't you" she cooed. "Grandma, I don't like where this is going." she mumbled. "I know it is too much to ask for but why don't you get married. I'll find you a nice man" she reasoned. "Grandma, no. I'm only 20. I'm not getting married, not yet anyways." she whined. "ugh! I love you grandma, I really do but I don't have any plans of getting married, yet" she said pulling away from her grandma. "I'm going home. I hope you get well soon" she stormed off.

Y/N was fuming, she got that her grandma was sick and wanted to see major milestones in her grandkids lives and she wanted to share her happiness with her too but that doesn't mean she will throw her own granddaughter under the bus. She hated the fact that it was always her who would have to do as the elders told her to. Why couldn't it be her siblings or her cousins for once? Why did she have to get a married now? She has so much she wants to achieve, she can't be tied down just yet. People her age barely even remembered the name of the person they last slept with and she should get married; her grandma had gone crazy, she thought.

While Y/N was losing her mind because her grandma wanted her married; Carlos Sainz Junior was losing his mind since he got a contract with Ferrari next year.

In the world of Formula One, there was a change in tide. Sebastian Vettel would no longer be driving for Ferrari in the upcoming season; instead he was being replaced with an up and coming driving Carlos Sainz who was currently driving for McLaren. COVID had put a damper on things; but nothing could contain Carlos's excitement. He would be driving in red next year, something almost every driver had dreamt of when they dreamt of Formula One.

Carlos was your typical Formula One driver, he asked his father for guidance since he was a Rally Champion and looked up to some great drivers as inspiration. He had big plans; plan of winning his first race, plans of winning a championship title, plans of racing until he was 60 but none of those plans involved getting married any time soon. He couldn't imagine himself settling down, just yet even though his sister was planning on getting married herself. He had a long way to go; the biggest obstacle, he wasn't dating anyone as of yet so obviously marriage was off the table for the foreseeable future.

Now, there's a saying, sickness brings the lost together. That's exactly what had happened. Carlos senior had grown up with a family, albeit only for a few years of his childhood but those were formative years and he had spent a lot of his time with the Kastner family. They were his neighbours and even after they had moved away, they had still stayed in touch. He wouldn't forget their kindness and hospitality. For the few years that they were around he was incharge of making sure the oldest of the Kastner family, Ivan got to and back from school safely.

When Carlos senior found out about the ailing health of Mrs Kastner who would make him delicious food and baby sat them when necessary, he flew in as soon as he could with his family in tow. COVID didn't make it easy to visit the sick but Carlos senior would be damned if he didn't meet or introduce his kids to the woman he talked about. Carlos senior greeted Ivan, "You've aged" he laughed patting his back. "As if you haven't" he clapped back. The two happy to see each other after a very long time apart. "I heard Aunt Anika is sick" Carlos senior spoke. "News travels fast" Ivan chuckled. "Not fast enough since she's been sick for a while and I only found out after she was admitted" Carlos senior pointed out. "Yes, yes, she'll be discharged soon. She's been doing so much better for the past few days" Ivan explained. "That's good to know" Carlos senior sighed. "Can we meet her?" he asked hopeful. "I think she'll be over the moon when she find out you've come. She kept up with all your races" Ivan added. "I'm glad she did. I think it was the combined prayers of my mother and yours that I'm still alive after being this reckless" Carlos senior laughed. "That I will not disagree with" Ivan smiled opening the door to the hospital room where Anika was reading the day's paper. She placed the paper down to see who it was and a smile broke out on her face; "Carlos, darling, how've been? I've missed you" she spoke trying to get up but Carlos senior was already by her side, "Don't get up. I'm right here" he leaned down and hugged her. "I've missed you too." he whispered. She patted his back, "I see you've done well for yourself" she said scanning the faces of the 4 people behind him. He pulled away and introduced his wife and 3 kids to her. "Did he get into rallying just like his father?" she asked shaking Carlos junior's hand. "Worse, he's in Formula One" Carlos senior smiled. "Darling, stay safe. I might have to start praying for one more now" she shook her head. "This is the woman who was best friend's with your grandmother and they love each other too much" Carlos senior announced to his kids. "What team does he race for?" Anika asked Carlos senior drawing his attention. "I'm racing for McLaren now, but I'll be racing for Ferrari next year" Carlos junior replied. "congratulations dear. And Carlos, a bit narcissistic I think to name your kid after you" she laughed.

The atmosphere was lively and bright, everyone was busy catching up with each other and trying to let each other know what was going on with the other.

In all of this, the gears in Anika's head were spinning. If Carlos's son, Carlos was single he would be the right fit for her grand daughter. She had always adored and dotted on Carlos senior growing up, so it would only make sense that she would want a good family to take care of her grand daughter. If there's anything to go by how Carlos senior turned out, Carlos junior would fit right in with their family. She felt giddy thinking about the possibility of merging their two families. She knew if everything went well, they could easily be getting married at the end of the year or the beginning of the next. She just wanted what was good for her grand daughter, having something nice come out of it like a handsome and rich husband was a bonus.

The Sainz would be staying in town for a few days before they would be leaving. Anika had invited them over for dinner once she would be discharged since she couldn't send them away without feeding them herself. It was a day before her discharge and she was sat with both Ivan and Carlos. "Since the two of you are here, there's a proposition I would like to make" she said. The two men sat up straight waiting for Anika to continue. "I might not live long" she began but was cut off by mutual 'nos and you'll live a long life' before she shushed them. "Let's listen to the doctors and I know they are trying their best but we have to be realistic too. If I do live long, I'll get to watch the happiness unfold if don't then I'll at least be a part of some of it." she explained. The two men were very confused with where she was trying to go. "I want to make a proposition like I said, I think it would be great if Carlos's son, Carlos married Ivan's daughter, Y/N. I've always wanted to watch my grand kids get married, this way I can die happy" she finished. Their mouths opened and closed a few times before Carlos spoke, "Aren't they still too young?" he asked. "It's just a suggestion, it's up to you two and them to decided if they'll go through with it. Would I be happy if they got married? Obviously but at the end of the day it'll all up to the kids. I just want what's best for them" Anika said. The two men were thinking. They were stuck. "You two can think about it, maybe we can introduce them to each other at the dinner tomorrow" Anika said hopeful. This was going to be difficult conversation to have for both Carlos and Ivan, they thought.

Taglist- @herexpertcollector @redrevvedup @chaostudee @larastark3107 @jovialpainterunknown @vip-access @sugarvibez @champomiel @inarabee @virazeeee @seonghwaexile @champ15ns @ajthefujoshi @musicheaux @npcmia @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @mochipatch @gleeblegnarp @formula1-motogpfan @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

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[coveofsecrets]

Hii!! Oh my god, to start up, I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS WARM ON BOTH SIDES TONIGHT BCS UR BURNING SPICE AND CHILD READER FIC DESTROYED ME 💔💔💔 but on another wrote it was so well written and i enjoyed it SO MUCH.

Is it alr that instead of a fic where Burnung Spice had a kid before his corruption, could you perhaps write one abt him having a kid as the Great Destroyer? Im pretty sure that he would be a relatively distant father, but what if his kid was practically a velcro baby and wanted to stick by his side the moment they were brought onto earthbread? I think it would be rlly silly ehehehhedhehhe

"𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Platonic! Burning Spice + reader

-> Warnings: Spoilers for Beast-Yeast chapter 6, child neglect, child abuse, mention of death. Please note I do not condone any of the aforemented stuff. If this is happening to you, please seek help if you can.

-> Word count: 1.8k

-> Uhm. I. I don't. I don't think. You got the silliness you wanted, anon, I. I am so sorry. But there is silly stuff in there!! Somehow????? I'm so sorry anon cires. but other than that THANK YOUUUUUUU WEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHE I LOVE DESTROTING PEOPLE WITH MY WRITINGGGG ATGGFHRF. BUT I DONT WANT MY PILLOW TO BE WARRRRRM <<<//333

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Being completely honest, he was bored.

Well, is bored the right word?

The eternal routine of destruction caused by him is nothing but  making innocents beg for mercy,  causing buildings full of history to crumble- watching all of that happen from his effort leaves his stomach full of satisfaction.

This path he walks is one he chose, one he had carved out for himself, so of course he would be having fun with his trail. If he weren’t having fun, then he wouldn’t have caused this ceaseless demolition.

Sometimes, though, there is something lingering within that satisfaction. Something that is out of his reach, something that he craves. With every person he kills, every city he levels, there is something in his gut. Even after he has finished his wreckage, after that pleasure has flushed itself out, something remains in his stomach. It’s as if he tasted something bad, as if, hidden within that delectable meal, there was just one part that threw the whole thing off.

No, he’s not bored.

He is dissatisfied.

Centuries have come and gone by, the Beast taking away the lives of millions, but not a single one of those numbers has done the same for him. When will it be his turn for that to happen? 

Burning Spice can only fantasize of the grand time it would be: Two individuals, fighting to the death. Blood surrounds them in the arena, not one of them knowing who it belongs to. The only fuel that’s driving their barely-working bodies to move is the adrenaline pumping through their veins. Both parties are helpless to the puppeteer that is the hormones, and unable to cut the strings, they raise their weapons, going in for what they hope is the final strike- oh, what splendor, what magnificence! The very thought leaves him in a deep state of hunger, one that even his most favorite hobby cannot quench. It makes him frustrated, how he can never be truly full; he has lived for so long, and not a single individual he met has come close to giving him what he yearns for!

What will it take to destroy him?!

All of a sudden, out of butt-fuck nowhere, Burning Spice comes up with an idea.

Since there is nobody to rip his life out from his body, he shall cultivate the being who shall do so.

If someone with his own techniques, his style- a perfect mirror of him- were to be fight him, given enough time, they could give him the battle he demands. After all, if somebody were to take after the strongest, eventually, they will take the title for themself.

Yes… yes! That’s the perfect plan!

All three eyes snapped open, lips bared into an all-teeth smile, the Beast practically launches himself off of his throne, set to putting his project into action. 

Burning Spice would be a neglectful parent.

Sure, he’s aware of what a baby needs to develop into a functioning person, but he stands strong to the ideal that the weak are to be left behind. So, you’re fed so you don’t die from hunger, you’re talked to so that you can understand and take part in speech, and you’re given certain tools that develop your fine motor skills. However, when you start crying, your father abandons you. No matter how loud they are, or how long they’re carried out for, nobody will come to your aid. Your sobs will not be soothed, your tears will not be kissed away.

In fact, if they weren’t under strict orders from their Lord Destroyer, the Spice Army would’ve killed you long ago. Your whines are grating to their ears, and they want nothing more than to make it stop. Like your father, they, too, will not help you.

Silence is the only thing you will know, so get comfortable with crying out to it.

When you start to crawl, Burning Spice gets so angry he has to take multiple breaks from you.

Having such a thing clinging to him; pulling on his hair, babbling incessantly, and forcing him to be more careful of his surroundings so he doesn’t squish you- ugh! He has to constrain himself to not throw you out the blasted window.

Other than that, though, your life is mostly the same as when the only thing you knew was the cradle surrounding you.

It only takes a drastic change once your fine motor skills are fully developed, you’re able to understand complex sentences, and you can recognize patterns across people. As soon as that happens, you’re immediately thrust into training.

It’s not pretty.

Blow after blow is given, not a break offered, and you’re forced to at least try and defend against your father’s too-quick attacks, else you’ll have to wear another scar on your skin. Whereas other parents would make sure not to push their children too far in sparring sessions,  every single battle you have with your dad leaves you on the brink of death.

You may be lying on the rough textures of the sands, vision blurring in and out- a direct result of all the blood that’s escaping its cage; you can try to call out, “help- help me-” but your voice is drowned out by the savage storms of the Spice Lands. Nobody helps you, nobody checks up on you; even your father, who can see just how bad of a shape you are in, leaves you to fare the battle against your demise.

Eventually, you learn that you’re not, in a sense… wanted. To the Beast who created you, you are nothing but a means to an end- a tool, a weapon, to lead him to his demise.

Despite that, though… despite how much you can see how you are nothing but a convenience, you still want to be near your dad.

He’s the only one who interacts with you; the spice army doesn’t want much to do with you, and all of your interactions with them always end in ignored yells, venomous words, or exchanged blows. Burning Spice is the only person in your life who, even if it was back-handed, has given you any sort of positive comments.

Because of that,, you want to get closer to him, know your only company better.

So you do.

Any time your body can forge energy, you use all of it to follow him around, doing nothing except for bombarding him with all sorts of questions- “Why do you use that bowl to eat? Is it important to eat with your hands? What are those tiny pieces on the map? What’s your weapon called?”- essentially talking his ears off.

Oddly enough, Burning Spice doesn’t mind.

Your father lets you hang around him like the Kulfis who used to serve him long ago, but he won’t exactly carry you around if you get tired. Adding on, if you ask questions, he will answer them. At first, the beast may seem irritated, but he’s not exactly… shooing you away. Take that as motivation to continue.

As you do so, he gets more and more relaxed from your parasitic presence being near him, and at one point, he starts having fun. Hee finds himself… happy to explain his customs, to divulge in practices he has not talked about in centuries.

Over time, His answers become longer, he starts smiling as he explains, and the creature even lets you partake in what he’s doing. For example, if you’re asking about his war plans, he will sit you next to him, tell you to suggest your own decisions for the pieces on the map, and teach you about what the best actions are to take as you do so. 

As the two of you get closer, the army gets confused. What’s the small thing doing, cuddling up to The Great Destroyer like a babe?

It doesn’t help that you, quite literally, try to stick by his side in such a way that you look like you are attempting to fuse your own flesh with his.

“What are you doing?”

The first time you do it, Burning Spice is quick to shake you off- contact outside of battle is not something he is used to, and he does not wish to indulge in your… clingy behavior. If you persist, though, he will fling you away- making sure that the indent you leave in whatever wall stops your trajectory is nasty. He will not tolerate such softness in his army, as it will only make one weak.

If you continue to try and cling to him, you’re gonna gain durability quickly, or learn to maintain a strong grip on your target, because if you don’t, you’re going to get a fractured skull.

Other than that, he doesn’t mind that you’re with him in every place he goes to, participating in every activity he is doing.

However, if you wanna do something of your own (which is surprising, considering that all you do is train and follow him around), then you better pray to the Witches it’s something Burning Spice will enjoy, or he will destroy any equipment there is to it.

“Soldiers of mine have no need for hobbies like these.”

Even if you are his child, you are, at the end of the day, one of his warriors; a discardable game piece.

Like every other fighter of his, you are set out to conquest; any kingdom he wishes to lay to ruin, you will be there, slaughtering the civilians and bringing ruin to architecture. It does not matter if these people beg, or if these buildings are rich with precious artifacts; you are expected to lay waste to anything that comes across your path; just like the rest of his army, you live, fight, and die for your Lord Destroyer.

If the day comes where you manage to crumble, you won’t get any sympathy. No proper funeral is carried out for you, no mourning is offered to your circumstance, and especially no memory of yours is preserved. 

Nobody cares for your death, except for Burning Spice.

Yet, the only emotion that is expressed to it is frustration. “All that time I put into my creation, and what did it amount to? Nothing!” But much like how the sands of time erode abandoned palaces, his frustration melts away into begrudging acceptance. “If they were truly meant to destroy me, they wouldn’t have been killed so soon.”

Such as all other beings who have died in his domain, your remains shall be left to forever drift in the Spice Land’s winds.

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess – Part 6

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You and Chishiya get trapped in a closed space together, both of you getting strange flashbacks.

Warnings: Claustrophobia, panic attack.

A/N: I didn't plan to write this so fast but i just blacked out when i started writing it.

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

Niragi's friend, Jae-sung, gave you a place to stay for a while until you'd find your own place. It was rather small apartment, but you and Niragi got the room which belonged to Jae-sung's roommate, who apparently would be visiting his in-laws in Korea for three weeks. Or something like that. You and Niragi would have about two weeks to find another place to stay the night.

The room had one single bed, so you slept on it and Niragi would have a mattress on the floor, being the usual gentleman he always was (not). You didn't personally know Jae-sung, but by the first impression you got from him, he seemed nice enough. Not anything like Niragi atleast, but what did you know.

For the first few days you didn't do much else than rest and go for a walk. You met up with couple of your friends, who luckily had been out of Tokyo that significant day. You didn't keep regular contact with them anymore, all of you having your own lives, but hey had immediately reached out to you when they heard you had been one of the victims.

Your boss had given you two weeks to rest and recover, which was more than you were prepared to have. You worked an office job as a graphic designer so you could have easily started the job sooner since you weren't physically restricted to work which was mostly sitting around. But your boss didn't want to take chances on your wounds suddenly getting worse in the middle of a work day. You knew you'd get bored after a few more days, since your social life was overall extremely dry as well.

You had decided to go to the grocery store nearby, craving for something sweet. Cookies, ice cream, chocolate – probably all of them.

You arrived back inside the building, carrying a bag full of groceries with you. You decided to walk up the stairs, your eyes on the screen of your phone, typing a text to your friend. You would have taken the elevator, but it was all the way up on the 9th floor so you'd rather walk up, getting a little exercise too.

But you didn't manage to reach the stairs at all when you crashed on someone's chest, stumbling back but managed to keep your balance. Although, the crash made you drop the bag on the floor by your feet, spilling some of the items out, making you curse under your breath.

You looked up and saw a familiar face in front of you. Well, not exactly familiar, but a face which you'd seen before not long ago.

"We should stop crashing on each other like this," the guy suggested, slight smirk on his face. The same guy who was at the hospital and fell on you the first time you met him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows, and kneeled down on the floor, bare knee touching the cold ground. You started collecting the packages back into the plastic bag.

"Well, i happen to live here," he answered and lowered himself to your level to help you gather the items. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Might be because i haven't been here more than a few days by far. It's just for couple of weeks," you said, making eye contact with him as you stood back up. A small smile appeared on your lips, though you weren't sure if he noticed it. "Don't worry, then i'll be out of your way."

"Your home got destroyed, huh?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, a genuine apologetic look on his face. You didn't want strangers to be sorry for you, but now you kind of appreciated that, surprisingly.

"Thanks," you said quietly and started to leave, walking past him back towards the stairs, like your original intention had been. "Well, i'll be seeing you then, i suppose."

"See you." He was watching after you for a moment, until he spotted something on the floor by his feet. "Hey, Y/N?" the guy shouted after you, making you turn around.

You furrowed your eyebrows as he approached you again.

"You, um, dropped this," he said and handed you a cookie, but you didn't immediately grab it.

"How do you know my name?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He fell silent for a moment, not knowing the answer himself. It had come out of his mouth so naturally he didn't know what to respond. Like he had always known it without needing to ask about it. It had only appeared in his mind just by looking at you.

"Uh, i probably overheard it when you were talking with your brother," he figured out. "Not that i meant to eavesdrop." Maybe he had overheard it but just forgot when it happened? He had always had a good short-term memory and would certainly remember where he had learned your name. Especially since he hadn't known you long at all.

But he didn't remember the reason. No matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn't grasp why he knew it.

"Hm, i guess," you mumbled, feeling suspicious. He was still handing you the cracker.

Stuff these into your pockets, your voice said when you grabbed the cracker into your hand from his hold.

"What?" he asked.

"What what?" you asked.

"What did you say?"

"Um, i didn't say anything," you denied.

He went silent for a moment, just looking at you in your eyes.

"You're a strange man, you know that?"

"So i've heard," he smiled. "I'm Chishiya, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Chishiya," you smiled.

Your smile made his heart flutter and twist his stomach in knots.

You were gone before he could say anything else. Chishiya didn't know how long he kept standing there after you had left, but it took him a while to get himself together and continue his way back to his apartment.

♤♡♧◇

Two days later, you had gone to a library to read for couple of hours, not wanting to stay in Jae-sung's small apartment the entire day. You had visited this library once in a while when you were younger, but hadn't been here in a long time, not after you moved further away from here. Now, you had taken a comfortable position on a couch which was usually taken but was now available to sit.

After a while, someone approached you. You looked up, your heart starting to beat faster when he looked at you.

"Y/N?" the man asked, furrowing his eyebrows but then his eyes brightening. "Hi, how are you doing?"

Your throat felt dry when your one-night hookup was looking down at you.

"Um, fine," you mumbled.

"May i sit?" he asked, pointing the spot next to you on the couch. You only stared at him for a while, until slightly nodded. "What have you been up to?"

"You lied to me," you said quietly, not able to start doing any small talk with him. You weren't going to cause a scene in a damn library but you weren't going to pretend acting friendly either.

"Lied about what?" he asked, genuinely confused. He had seemed to be in a good mood before he approached you, but now it started to fade when he saw the unwelcoming look on your face.

"That we slept together," you gritted between your teeth.

"Um, i already told you," he said. "Nothing happened. For real."

"Okay, so how am i pregnant then?" you spat, anger starting to boil inside you.

His eyes widened. "You're pregnant?"

You crossed your arms against your chest, leaning back against the couch. "Yes, thanks to you."

"I swear, Y/N, we didn't do anything after you told me to stop," he insisted, starting to panic. "I remember it well enough to know that we did stop. After you passed out i simply went to the shower and then fell asleep next to you, okay?"

You eyed him for a moment. He seemed genuine, truly meaning every word, but you weren't buying it. Just because there was simply no other way how you could have become pregnant. If you weren't bearing a child inside you, you might have actually believed him.

"I swear through my mother's grave, hand on my heart, that i did nothing to you. I'd say it directly in front of God," he promised, starting to be desperate, seeing the look on your face – both hurt and angry. He could tell that you weren't so sure to trust him. "Can't you take, like, a paternity test or something if you don't believe me? It's not mine, i promise."

God, how much you wanted to believe him. He looked so serious and genuine it was hard to blame him on things you didn't even remember.

The moments you remembered with him, he had been gentle with you and asked for final permission on everything. When you had said 'no', he had let you go.

"Please," he pleaded. "I did nothing to you. I don't sleep with unconscious women, no matter how wasted i am."

You shut your eyes and held your forehead. How could you believe him when there had been literally nobody else than him?

"I, i came to talk to you now because you forgot a few things in my apartment that day," he said. "I thought i could meet up with you later so i could return them. You just never left your number so i couldn't reach you."

You did forget some of your things in his place but had just accepted the fact that you'd never see them again.

"You can keep them."

"We don't need to hang out, i can just-"

"Keep them, okay?" you insisted and got up from the couch, leaving him to sit by himself without another word.

♤♡♧◇

On your way home, you tried your best to calm down your racing heart and keep your breath steady, but it was turning out to become challenging. You wouldn't be about to cry in public. All you wanted to do now was scream, but you couldn't do that either at a bus stop.

You had promised Niragi to be back at the apartment in about 15 minutes because he wanted to introduce you to his friends and be social, since all you did right now was mostly staying by yourself.

The elevator in this building was ancient and looked like it could break any time soon. The sound of the floor creaking under your feet with every step didn't make you feel very safe either. Still, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to the 6th floor, not having the energy to walk all the way up there.

The door started to slowly close until someone's foot stopped it and opened the door again, letting the person to the elevator as well. You locked eyes with Chishiya.

"You're literally stalking me," you stated as he came to stand next to you. It wasn't a big elevator at all, it was made to fit to exactly four people. Three if you wanted to move a little and not only stand with your arms touching each other, not able to take a step to any direction without stepping on someone's foot.

"We live in the same building," he pointed out.

"And yet i haven't bumped into any other neighbor except you and someone's grandma. You now twice," you said back.

"I suppose we have similar daily routines," he responded.

"Mhm," you said, lifting your left eyebrow and turning away from him.

He was going to the 7th floor, only one floor above you. You didn't speak anything, just stood next to each other in silence, an inch between your shoulders. You felt awkward, but didn't care to start even more awkward small-talk.

You were on the 4th floor, when suddenly the elevator stopped, so hard as if it had hit a wall, making you almost lose your balance.

"What the hell?" you mumbled. The doors didn't open and you assumed you were between two floors. Anyway not able to get out.

You suffered from claustrophobia and being trapped in a small space with no way to get out was one of your worst fears. You had never been a fan of elevators, but you had gotten used to them, as long as you didn't have to stay in one for a long time.

You started breathing more rapidly, feeling like the air was running out and you were going to suffocate. The elevator started shrinking, the walls coming closer to you. Chishiya looked at you, worried look on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

You didn't answer, you were too caught up in the panic attack that was about to start. Your hands were shaking and you just really, really needed to get out of this elevator, starting to hyperventilate. You felt pain on your chest, pressing your trembling hand against your racing heart.

He put his hands on your shoulders, turning you towards him. You avoided eye contact with him at first, looking at the wall over his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," Chishiya said, realising what was going on. "Look at me. Y/N, look at me."

You turned your face towards him, allowing yourself to make eye contact with him.

"Take a deep breath in a count of three, okay?"

Your eyes started to water as you looked at him, having a really hard time to take deep breaths and calm down. You tried your hardest, his hands gently rubbing your arms. Eventually you were able to calm down.

"That's good," Chishiya smiled. "You did really good."

"Is it weird if i hug you?" you asked quietly, nervous for his rejection or making him uncomfortable. Chishiya contemplated your request a little bit, until gently wrapped your arms around you, massaging your back with his hand.

Another person's presence and touch always, or most times, managed to calm you down properly. You heard his steady heart beat.

Was there someone else? Or was i... was i your only one?

You pulled away from him, furrowing your eyebrows when you looked at him in his eyes. "What do you mean someone else? We're alone here."

"I didn't say anything about someone else," Chishiya mumbled, furrowing his brows too.

"Yes you did, i heard you," you insisted.

You were always really embarrassed when someone saw you have a panic attack and you could feel your cheeks burning up this time as well, now that you had properly recovered from it and realized the entire situation.

"We've been trapped in this elevator for barely ten minutes and you already start to hallucinate," Chishiya stated. He sounded serious, but the small smile on his lips gave it away, wanting to cheer you up and lighten your mood.

"Shut up," you mumbled and hit his shoulder, his words making you a little amused as well.

"I'm going to make a call to get this thing fixed and us out of here. You okay now?" he asked and after you nodded, he took his phone from his pocket and dialed the correct number.

You were afraid of getting another panic attack if you had to be here for a long time, you didn't want to go through that again in such a short time. At least i'm not alone here, you thought. Right now, you were more than glad that he had put his foot between the door and stepped inside with you, even though it had been awkward at first.

"Alright, they said they'll be here as soon as possible, but it might take a while to get this running again," Chishiya explained turning to look back at you.''

"Amazing," you huffed.

"Hey, it could be worse," he pointed out.

"Mhm, and how exactly?" you asked, crossing your arms against your chest.

"Well, you could be stuck with one old man from the 2nd floor, who doesn't shut up about facts about toilets and bicycles," he answered.

"Toilets and bicycles?" you huffed.

"Yup. So, be glad it's me and not an even stranger man than me."

You looked at him for a moment, until you narrowed your eyes, looking again directly at him. "You sabotaged this thing, didn't you?" You widened your eyes and pointed a finger at him. "I knew you had been flirting with me at the hospital!"

"Hey, even if i wanted to get to know you better i wouldn't go to the length of trapping you in a small space with me," he swore, one hand on his heart and the other up in the air.

"Mhm," you hummed, crossing your arms. Then, you pouted a little, pretending to be upset and tilted your head. "So, you don't want to get to know me better? At all?"

You were incredibly close to each other, a few inches between your bodies.

"Well," he said slowly, glancing at the ceiling for a moment to avoid your intense gaze. "I didn't say that."

"But you implied it."

"You're putting words into my mouth," he stated when he had locked eyes with you again.

He wasn't matching your 'i'm just joking' vibe at all right now.

You eyed him up and down, starting to grin. "You're kind of cute, you know that?"

"Cute?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yup," you confirmed and bit your lip. "Nobody told you that before?"

"Hm, not that i recall." You smiled wider when you noticed his cheeks turn slightly pink.

"So, you figured out already where you know me?" you asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "You admit that we've met?"

"No," you said. "Other strangers just haven't thought before we might know each other – without considering it flirting."

"Well, i haven't found an answer to that yet," he admitted.

"Hm. Well, let me know when you do."

Your phone let a sound of a new text message, making you take your phone from your pocket. You were feeling hot and pulled your sleeves up to your elbows as you took the phone in your hand.

Assface: are you still out? we're running out of beer

When you had exposed half of your arms, the tattoo on your arm was revealed – two knives crossed with each other, surrounded by roses and couple of skulls. It picked Chishiya's attention, making him analyse it with his eyes.

I didn't find a pen and paper. And i'm bored.

Chishiya looked at your face when he heard those words, your lips not moving at all. Not letting out a single syllable. He could swear that he hadn't imagined those words, spoken by your voice in his head, by himself.

I have a second knife, you know.

You turned your face towards Chishiya when he had fallen quiet, noticing his concentrated stare on your lips.

"What, you want to make out?" you asked with a playful smile, then biting your lip.

You put your phone away and backed him against the wall, standing barely an inch away from him, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"We can play 7 minutes in heaven if you want, now that we have enough time to spare."

Chishiya's face turned red, eyes widening. He swallowed the lump in his throat, stomach feeling funny. His usual calm demeanor shifted completely to something else he had very rarely experienced before. Probably never before. He shook his head a little to get a grip of himself.

"Oh, no, i didn't-"

"I'm just kidding," you giggled, enjoying what kind of effect you managed to have on him. "But it's okay, Chishiya, i know i'm pretty," you grinned and put your finger on his chin. "You can admit it."

"I'm not denying that you're pretty but i wasn't thinking of kissing you," he stated as seriously as he could but even he could tell his voice was trembling a little. "I was just, looking at your tattoo."

"My tattoo is on my arm, not on my lips," you hummed, then started to smile. "So you think i am pretty, hm?"

"Will you shut up about that if i say yes?" he asked, resting his head against the wall.

"Maybe, no promises though," you shrugged. "Well?"

"Fine, you're pretty," he admitted. "Now, end of discussion."

You just smiled, turning into pouting right after. "So, no kissing, hm?"

He couldn't help but glance at your lips but then he cleared his throat. "No kissing."

"Fine," you huffed, acting all disappointed even though you were just teasing him, and backed away from him. You sat on the floor, back against the wall, Chishiya sitting down next to you.

"Can i ask you a serious question?" he asked, the tone of his voice to a lot more serious one, he was back at his normal self. You listened to him now with closer attention. "Do you feel any different after the accident?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Chishiya started, trying to gather his words together to make sense. "I feel like there's a large piece missing inside me, you know?" You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't know if that sounds dumb, but-"

"It's not dumb," you interrupted. "I do feel like that too."

"You do?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.

"I mean, kind of yeah," you admitted, hugging your knees against your chest. "I feel weird. Like there's something crucial i don't remember. I can't really explain it. But i've just figured it's due some survivor's guilt and trauma or whatever, i don't know. I'm just trying to leave the entire thing behind."

Chishiya knew, was absolutely sure, that it was something else than simply survivor's guilt.

"Perhaps," he mumbled and looked into his hands on his lap.

You didn't know how much time passed the two of you being trapped in the elevator, but you'd guess it was anything between 30 minutes to one hour.

Suddenly, the elevator started to move again, startling you so badly that you collapsed against Chishiya, grabbing his shirt on an instinct.

He looked at you, hanging on him, until you turned your head towards his gaze, eyes widening.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, letting him go. "I just got really startled."

"It's alright."

Chishiya stood up and took your hand in his, pulling you up from the floor just as the elevator's door opened.

"Well, i guess this is my stop," you announced, suddenly feeling a bit awkward again, just like the moment in the beginning when Chishiya had stepped into this elevator. "See you around, Chishiya."

"See you around, Y/N."

♤♡♧◇

You walked inside the apartment, Niragi and two of his friends sitting at the table, playing cards together and drinking beer. Apparently they had found more beer somewhere after all.

"What took you so long?" Niragi asked, clearly not pleased for having to wait for you so long. "Did you bring more beer?"

"Got stuck inside the elevator," you stated. "So, no. I didn't."

"That shit finally broke?" Jae-sung asked and let out a laugh. "Took long enough."

"Join us, we saved a seat for you," Niragi invited, patting the chair next to him.

"Oh, i think i'll just go to read and-"

"Don't be silly, one game," another guy pleaded, you had never seen him before.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Fine, one game."

But one game turned into another and yet another, until it started to get really late. You were having a lot of fun, though, and you managed to win surprisingly often, shocking the guys a little because they had thought of being some sort of masters in card games themselves. Niragi knew you were a challenging opponent though, so he was amused by the reactions of his friends.

You now held the King of Spades card in your hand, looking at the King's cartoon face and felt it staring back at you, a little too intensely. You got a weird twist in your stomach, suddenly feeling sick.

Uncomfortable pressure formed inside your skull, some sort of flashes running inside your mind. The card dropped from your hand as you held your head in your hands, shutting your eyes.

You heard rapid shooting and screaming everywhere around you.

A man in a long black cloak approached you, pointing his gun at you, but someone pulled you out of the way of gunfire.

Swimming in a lake, being held against someone's bare chest but not seeing the person's face. An explosion somewhere in the distance.

Finally, Chishiya's face looking at you with worried eyes, a tear falling down his face and blood on his cheek. Saying something to you but you didn't hear what.

Every flash didn't last longer than one or two seconds, feeling like they were splitting your brain in half.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, Niragi looking at you with a worried expression on his face. You jumped on your seat, him scaring the crap out of you.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Niragi asked.

"My, my head just hurts," you muttered and stood up. "Migraine. I think i'll go to lie down." You were already walking away until turned around one more time and gave the guys a smile. "It was nice to play with all of you though."

You went to the spare room and sat on the bed, hands grabbing the edge of the bed.

What the hell was that?

♤♡♧◇

Chishiya fell asleep fast that night, faster than usual, even though his mind wasn't even closely free from all the storming thoughts about you and everything going on in his life right now.

He saw a dream which felt too real and familiar to be only a dream. He felt like there had been more to the dream, and he remembered only a small part of it.

He saw your face. You were standing in front of him. With a smile on your face, you pulled him into a kiss, hands on his cheeks.

You pulled back after a while, still holding his cheeks as you looked into his eyes, challenging look in them. "I've never done it in a lake, though."

Chishiya woke up, for a moment trying to comprehend where he was after opening his eyes, then fully realizing he had only dreamed the entire thing. You weren't there holding his face. You weren't there kissing his lips. You weren't there at all, your touch had been only his own imagination.

Had the moment between you two in the elevator really affected him that much? Surely not. No, definitely not.

His heart fluttered and for some reason, he had liked it. The idea of you being close to him.

He wanted to slap himself on the cheek which held a ghost of your touch, just to get this feeling spat out of him. Touch which hadn't been there at all in the first place.

He didn't know you. You were strangers to each other who simply went through the same trauma. He had never felt like this about a woman who he only knew by a name. He knew nothing else about you besides getting injured when the meteorite hit Tokyo.

He could tell you were beautiful and would get any man on their knees by your feet, he wasn't going to deny that.

Was this some sort of "love at first sight" moment he was experiencing? Definitely not. He didn't believe in love at first sight, no. It had to be something else.

Chishiya groaned, absolutely frustrated, and wasn't able to sleep anymore.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: Hope i didn't forget to tag anyone <3 The next part won't be posted this fast lmao don't get used to this.

Taglist:

@audiiix

@valexqpt

@spencersoneball

@queenofviolenceandnerds

@moonchild323232

@lizxoxeth

@crazzzyyyy

@kimsrie

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Reader is hit by a truck which is *university*. So, a lot of studying and a lot of frustrations. And the TA is being a pain in the ass, you know how it is. Some science talk, based on the remnants of my knowledge from uni.

author’s note: Guys, you have showered me with love, so I'm showering you with writing.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Sue was so fucking right. It had only been one week of freedom, and then the workload came crashing down on you. Suddenly, every class had a welcome test attached to it, and you found yourself buried under a mountain of homework—chemical equations to solve and analyse, essays, books to read, lab practice, and lectures to attend. There wasn’t any snowball effect; it all hit at once, and by the time you and Sue returned on the first Monday of the second week, you were carrying enough work to fill two mules, and it would still have been too heavy even for them.

“Your mum is calling,” Sue’s voice pulled you out of a particularly boring passage about physical chemistry in one of your shared workbooks. You would usually put your phones on the cabinet for study time, but the vibration had startled Sue for the third time in ten minutes, so she decided to address it.

“Ugh, can you put her on speaker? I’ll deal with this quickly, and I don’t want to move,” you rolled your eyes, catching Sue’s judgmental glare. She’s your mum!

“Kochanie, finally! I’ve been trying and trying, how are you doing?” Your mum’s voice filled the room with her familiar heavy accent, though she insisted it was improving. Your dad didn’t speak a word of Polish, so Joanna had to switch to English entirely after you left.

“All good, Mum. Lots and lots and lots of studying,” you said, your voice so unamused you barely lifted your eyes from the book, though your gaze was unseeing. You had been staring at the same equation for about half an hour now.

“Have you been practising your affirmations?” Of course, you hadn’t. Silly idea.

“Yes, every day and every time someone pisses me off. How’s Dad?” You decided to deflect as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Dad went to Calais for a retreat, and I’m left alone for the entire week. He’s not allowed a mobile, you see,” Your mum rambled on a little longer, and you let her. You were happy to hear your parents were moving on after losing their only daughter. Even though Joanna insisted she could feel your presence in the house, in the clothes and trinkets you’d left behind, and could sense your moods through an invisible mother-daughter bond you shared. What a load of nonsense.

“Mamusia, I love you, but I have to go. I’m studying with Sue, and we’ve got a test in thirty minutes,” you added a round of loud pecks so she could hear the kisses through the phone speaker. She told you to wear red underwear and get Sue to kick you for good luck.

“Your mum sounds awesome,” Sue laughed under her breath. She tried to study but ended up listening to the entire conversation.

“Eh, she’s something. She’s pretty cool when she’s not suffocating you with love, you know?” You gave Sue a knowing smile, and she understood immediately. “Have you managed to learn anything? My brain is literally fuming.”

Sue groaned as she started packing up her notebooks to head toward the lab class. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I’ll use my last resort—can I borrow some red knickers?” You snickered as Sue shot you a huge mocking grin.

“No, but I can kick you alright, sweet Sue,” you couldn’t help but laugh. You gathered all the papers scattered around you with both hands and shoved them into your bag. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before leaving your dorm room, and Jesus Christ, your youth had already fled. Dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt face, lips chapped—all of it painfully underlined by an ink stain on your t-shirt. Whatever, there was no time to do anything about it.

It was Viktor’s class again. You had slowly grown to dislike them, ever since he and Jayce began to switch every second day, after Jayce got a new girlfriend—beautiful Mel Medarda, a third-year theatre student whom Hale once called a close second contender to rule the planet one day. Second after you, of course.

All of Viktor’s initial friendly sass had dissolved into the mean kind, which he executed each time Heimerdinger’s students were supposed to already know something they didn’t—including you. Thankfully, most of the time, you knew. The times you didn’t, he relished it and squeezed the situation to the maximum, like a sad lemon.

“Alright, take a test from the tray on the teacher’s desk and take your usual seat. And as usual, you can have a calculator and periodic table on your workbench,” Viktor’s instructions boomed through the lab classroom as one by one, students dragged themselves through the door, each one looking more exhausted than the other. “Looking ravishing today, Y/N,” he sent a smirk your way as you passed by him without sparing him so much as a glance and a quiet ‘hi.’

“Bite me, Viktor,” you barked back at him. What the hell was he thinking?

“Gladly, but maybe after class.” Usually, the smug look on his face would get you to scoff; this time, you granted him a faint eye roll as you dragged your feet toward the workbench you shared with Sue. As Viktor strolled through the room, making sure no one had anything illegal on their tables, he snatched your phone from your desk just as you were putting it into your bag.

“No phones,” he slid it into his lab coat pocket with a wink. You whined, about to say something you’d regret, but were immediately cut off by “I said, after class,” coming from behind you as you watched his back, your eyes burning a hole in it.

You solved the test first; you were so angry. As soon as you put it back in the tray, a realisation washed over you, and what you realised was the mistake you’d made in one of the exercises. You wanted to retrieve it and fix it, but Viktor’s hand shooshed you away.

“Come on, Viktor, it was there for less than a second!”

“You put it away, it’s gone for grading. That’s the rule. Also—it’s a learning curve,” he smiled at you sweetly, and you wanted to choke him out.

“Learning curve of what? That you are being a dick?” The last part was barely a whisper, nevertheless, a whisper that was fuming with rage and could cut through steel.

“Patience. And decision-making, which is a process that you clearly haven’t mastered yet,” he said coldly, not even looking you in the eye. This time, you did scoff, and angry steps carried you back to your seat.

The class settled into a more familiar rhythm after the test, the shuffle of papers and the steady hum of Bunsen burners filling the air. Viktor moved around the room, overseeing his students’ chemistry lab exercises with the same detached air he always wore. You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the test—and Viktor's smug little smile as he watched your frustration unfold.

The task at hand was simple enough: a titration experiment to determine the concentration of an unknown solution. Viktor had given you all the instructions, but as you watched the beaker of sodium hydroxide mix with the diluted acid, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something about the instructions didn’t sit right with you.

You glanced over at Sue, who was carefully measuring out the chemicals. You leaned in, whispering so Viktor wouldn’t overhear.

“Sue, I think he messed up the ratios in the instructions. If we follow this, it’s gonna screw everything up. We’ll end up with a totally different result.”

Sue frowned, taking a closer look at the setup. “You sure?”

“I’m certain. The way he wrote it—if we add that much of the sodium hydroxide, the pH is going to overshoot too quickly. It'll neutralise the acid too fast, and we won’t get an accurate reading. If we’re supposed to get a neutralisation point, that change will mess with the whole titration curve.”

Sue was sceptical, but you were adamant. You felt it in your gut. "It’ll be off. Trust me."

Sue nodded reluctantly. "So, what do we do?"

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tapping the edge of the desk as you thought. You pulled up a few formulas on Sue’s phone, glancing back at Viktor to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“If we use less sodium hydroxide, the neutralisation will occur more slowly, and we’ll get a more accurate pH reading. We’re supposed to use a much more diluted solution.”

Sue nodded, though she looked uneasy. “What the hell, let’s try it.”

You adjusted the solution as you suggested, making the necessary changes to the procedure. You proceeded with the experiment, and despite her hesitation, Sue followed your lead. The two of you worked in tandem, the smooth, natural chemistry of your lab partnership taking over. As you neared the end of the titration, it was clear you had achieved the neutralisation point correctly—without overshooting or leaving any room for error.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was still fumbling through their measurements, the air thick with the sounds of Viktor’s quiet reprimands. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, noting the small, almost imperceptible frown on his face as he inspected his students’ work.

When the clock pointed to fifteen minutes away from the class ending, Heimerdinger stepped into the lab, his eyes scanning the results with interest. He walked toward your workbench, eyes lighting up as he reviewed your calculations.

“Well, it seems we have at least one pair who didn’t follow the instructions blindly,” Heimerdinger said, his voice rich with approval. “Good work, you two. You’ve done the experiment correctly. Trusting your instincts—making adjustments based on the data rather than simply following authority—is key in science. After all, we’re here to discover, not just to repeat what’s been done.”

You allowed yourself a smile of satisfaction, while Sue breathed a little easier, glancing at you in admiration.

Viktor’s face, however, was unreadable. He stood at the back of the room, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a learning curve for all of us, even your teacher. Mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes when we challenge authority—question the procedures—that’s when we learn and grow. Science is born from curiosity and defiance. Respect is important, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge when you feel something isn’t right.”

You raised an eyebrow at Viktor, who hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were hard as steel. He wasn’t pleased by Heimerdinger’s praise of your independent thinking.

“That’s how science is made,” Heimerdinger continued, completely oblivious to the tension between his students and the teacher. “By asking ‘what if?’ and exploring the unknown.”

Viktor finally spoke, his voice cool and controlled. “That’s true,” he said, glancing at you. “But there's a fine line between innovation and recklessness. Don’t mistake one for the other.”

You met his gaze, your jaw tight. “I don’t think we did.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the room. Sue nudged you gently, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, at least we didn’t screw up,” she whispered.

You smiled back, but your mind was still racing. You had challenged Viktor’s authority—hadn’t followed his instructions—and it had got you praise from the professor. This couldn’t be good. “Sue, I don’t think I’m getting my phone back,” you whined into your friend's shoulder, who giggled uncontrollably.

You waited for your group to disperse into the library or the cantina before the start of the next lecture, making sure Viktor wouldn’t be able to humiliate you in front of anyone. You took a deep breath and knocked weakly on the door of the assistant’s back office.

“Come in,” Viktor’s voice was as flat and unwelcoming as ever. You braced yourself as you turned the doorknob and stepped inside quietly. Viktor was sitting at one of the tiny desks you were cramped at with Jayce and didn’t even look up. You cleared your throat.

“Yes?” This time, he looked up. God, he looked angry. When he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, he only sighed. “I doubt I can do much for you, Y/N. Given that you know everything already.”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who broke into the lab to prove his point once. Yes, Jayce told me,” you smiled at him sweetly, referring to his second-year incident when he and Jayce breached the lab security at night and conducted an experiment they were forbidden to do by Heimerdinger himself. This got them secure spots for PhD and TA positions.

Seeing that there was absolutely nothing coming from his direction but a blank stare, you asked carefully, “Well… why did you fuck up?”

Viktor sighed again, stood up slowly, and walked toward you. “Some theatre girls got us drunk last night—Mel’s friends. And I messed up the notes. Chemistry is not my major, as you know.” A smirk started to paint his face as he observed your reaction to the mention of drinking with some girls.

Viktor decided to push you further, his smirk widening as he leaned against the desk. “It’s hard to focus when you’re surrounded by Mel’s friends, you know. A lot of distractions. I haven't quite shaken last night off me yet,” he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your heart dropped at his words. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but something inside you shifted—you didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Viktor was deliberately drawing attention to some girls, and it stung more than you cared to acknowledge.

You scolded yourself internally. Stop it. Don’t let him get to you. But it was already too late. You could feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe, or insecurity—but you refused to let it show.

Viktor, sensing your discomfort, didn’t let up. “By the way,” he said, his tone casual, “I took a closer look at your test. You know, given your answers, I understand how you worked out the correct proportions for the exercise. Same mistake you made on the test itself, right?”

Your stomach twisted, and your chest tightened. “So now you’re just going to relish in my defeat, aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice strained.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got far better things to relish in. Just making observations.”

You exhaled sharply, your anger bubbling over. “You know, because you were being such a dick, the thing I actually knew will probably lower my final grade now. Congratulations.”

Viktor’s smirk never faltered. “I wasn’t being a dick,” he said, voice smooth. “I was merely being a meticulous stiff bastard.” He leaned back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You were quite vocal about that, if I recall. Something about me being a ‘pedantic pain in the ass’ when you were drunk.”

Your face flushed, your hand tightening into a fist at your side. That comment struck a nerve you hadn’t even realised was there. Your heart pounded. “Are you seriously so petty, Viktor, that you’re going to take revenge for some drunken slur by messing with my grade?” you snapped, your voice rising. You turned to leave, the weight of your frustration heavy on your chest.

But Viktor’s voice stopped you cold. “Wait,” he said, and for a moment, you thought he was going to apologise. Maybe even admit he’d gone too far.

You glanced over your shoulder, ready to hear some kind of redemption. But then Viktor’s tone shifted again. “You didn’t forget something, did you?”

You froze as he pulled your phone from his pocket and held it out to you, a mischievous gleam in his eye. The sight of your phone in his hand made your heart sink. You really are a bastard, you thought.

With strained composure, you took the phone from him. Your fingers brushed his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. Viktor’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and for the briefest second, you saw something flicker behind his usual cool façade. Something almost… uncertain.

Your stomach fluttered—No. Not now. Don’t let him do this to you.

You forced a tight smile, returning his gaze. “I can play this game too, Viktor,” you said, your voice low and controlled.

Viktor’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, and he leaned back against the desk, watching you with a hint of something deeper in his expression. His eyes softened, but he quickly masked it with another calculated look.

You turned to leave, your mind racing with frustration and another weird emotion you didn’t have the name for. Just before you reached the door, you felt a shift in the air. Viktor’s teasing had crossed a line, and somehow, the distance between you felt less like a joke and more like something real. Why does this matter so much to me?

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Viktor hadn’t just teased you. He’d affected you, and you hated that. As you stepped out of the office, you could feel his gaze on your back, following you, studying your body. You scolded yourself internally for looking like a wreck and made your way to join Sue in the library.

Your friend regarded you with concern as you slid into the chair at the table, books already splayed out in front of her. “Did you get your phone back?”

“Yeah, it was a fight to the death,” you mumbled, sighing heavily as you opened a massive tome of genetics for the next lecture.

“And who died?” Sue asked, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, definitely me this time.” You whined and dropped your head face-flat onto the table. “I don’t understand when this happened. Can you direct me to a point in time when Viktor woke up and chose violence?” you chuckled despite yourself.

“Um… I think it was some time after the party where that cute curly-haired guy with a poetic name clung to you the entire evening. Or—” she smirked—“you calling Viktor a meticulous stiff bastard.”

“Ambrose? I completely forgot about him,” you mused for a second. There had been an Ambrose sometime during your first weeks. He was from the theatre department too, full of big words, slightly obsessive, but overall nice. You never gave him your number, though, deciding it wasn’t meant to be.

“So you think Viktor loves me so much, jealousy rotted his guts?” you laughed a little too loudly, drawing a few irritated ‘shh!’ sounds from nearby students.

“Let’s say it’s my instinct,” Sue replied with a mischievous smile. “And remember, Y/N—trusting your instincts is key in science,” she added in a hushed, exaggerated Heimerdinger impression, causing you to suppress your laugh even further.

***

Viktor stretched in his chair. The last paper to check stared him in the eye, glaring at him almost as intensely as you had that morning. He groaned slightly at the pain in his leg as the door creaked open.

“Hi, partner,” Jayce greeted, shooting him a smile that was a mix of guilt and a plea for forgiveness. He’d left Viktor for an entire day to gallivant around campus with Mel. She had apparently needed strong arms to carry boxes of flyers advertising their winter show.

“Don’t ‘hi, partner’ me, Jayce,” Viktor huffed but smiled faintly under his nose. “How was it?”

“She’s really something, Vik. I can tell you over a beer?” Jayce offered, clearly still buzzing from his all-day hangout with his beautiful, smart, interesting, unique, elegant, new girlfriend.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. One last paper to check.” Viktor groaned slightly as he flipped your paper in front of his friend’s face. Jayce snatched it mid-air and studied it carefully for a minute.

“How come? I thought she was the only one to work around your… notes mishap?” Jayce tread carefully, noticing the frown forming on Viktor’s forehead. He knew exactly how Viktor had messed up the notes—sadly, it was partially his fault as well.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, still staring at the paper. “Yes, indeed, she was. She even tried to fix her answer when she put the test into the box,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t she?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, the motion quick and dismissive. “Because, Jayce, I don’t make exceptions for students who can't follow the rules.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “What did she do to get so deeply under your skin? Seriously, you're not usually like this.” Viktor was only mean and vigilant when he cared—or when he was hurt. That, Jayce knew. He just didn’t know which one it was.

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice. “She’s just full of herself. Thinks she can do whatever she wants because she’s got it all figured out.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Well, if someone’s getting on your nerves that much, it usually means they’re reflecting something about you that you don’t want to see.”

Viktor stared at him blankly, the words almost not registering. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. “When did you start spreading the wisdom of your people around the world, Jayce?”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually. “Mel teaches me how to talk to difficult people now. You know, learning to understand them and not just shut them down immediately.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone sceptical. “Am I the difficult one here?”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Clearly. I mean, you’re willing to fuck up Y/N’s final grade over a sentiment. That’s not exactly… rational behaviour, is it?” He leaned into the desk, hoping for a moment of self-reflection from his friend.

Viktor was silent for a moment, then scoffed, trying to brush off the conversation. “It’s not like that. I’m not just doing it to be petty.”

Jayce leaned in slightly. “So, what did you tell Heimerdinger about the mishap?”

Viktor leaned forward as well, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I told him the truth—both of us fell asleep in the lab, working on our side project. I had to rush to class that morning. No big deal.”

Jayce nodded, processing this. “I’m sure Heimerdinger won’t bat an eyelid if you step up for Y/N, especially since she did well in class. If anything, she deserves some leniency.”

Viktor paused, looking at his friend thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that. Just… don’t think this is something I do for everyone,” he exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But I’ll talk to Heimerdinger.”

Jayce smirked, leaning back in his chair again. “There you go. Maybe Mel’s influence is working on you after all.”

Viktor shot him a look, clearly not amused. But deep down, he couldn't deny there was something about you that unsettled him—and, for some reason, it had started to bother him more than he cared to admit.

“Just keep your wisdom to yourself,” Viktor muttered. “And get out of my office. I still have work to do.”

Jayce chuckled but stood up, winking. “Hey, it’s my office as well! But yeah, I get the point.” As Jayce exited, Viktor stared at the paper before him, his mind occupied by frustration. A meticulous stiff bastard he was indeed.