#i considered posting it like...chapter-y

[ktownshizzle]

Pigments & Playlists | myg

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Between makeup and music, you find the one person worth blurring the lines for. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: coworkers to lovers, idol au, older woman (by a few years), fluff, smut ✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings:  Undercut Yoongi! Undercut! Him being such an attentive thoughtful king, nothing major i think this is a pretty light read, cursing, jk being the annoying younger brother type, lots of makeup brands and seventeen references, MC has thirsty thots for yoongi but who can blame her, part two is where we will have the action (trust) but savor the cuteness of part one for now ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 5.6k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: June 8, 2025 ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello! I have been talking about this makeup noona fic for a while and it’s here. This is a two-shot (don’t y’all make me make it a series!) Thank you so much @tea4sykes for betareading.

Part Two | Yoongi Masterlist

You drag your Züca makeup trolley behind you, wheels gliding against the marble floors. Your phone is tucked between your ear and shoulder as you walk, eyes scanning for a sign, the one marking the next chapter of your career.

Wonwoo’s voice crackles in your ear.

“I’m gonna be fine… No, I’m not gonna have a new favorite… That’s impossible… Just focus on your training, okay?... Seriously? Bye, Wonwoo.”

You sigh, tap the end button, and slide your phone into your back pocket.

Ah, so this is what the 21st floor looks like.

The floor dedicated to the men who built the HYBE building from the ground up.

You laugh to yourself. Does this mean you made it, too? It kinda does, doesn’t it? 15 years doing makeup, five years with Seventeen. Specifically: Seungcheol’s unruly brows, Mingyu’s overzealous sweat glands, and Wonwoo’s refusal to exfoliate. You weren’t just part of the team—you were theirs. The noona they teased mercilessly, trusted absolutely, and sometimes trauma-bonded backstage while waiting for hair dryers to cool.

Now you’re here. Reassigned. Promoted, actually. You’re now the lead makeup artist of Bangtan Sonyeondan, with eight makeup artists and hair stylists in your team. The mission? Make BTS the prettiest fuckin’ boys in all of history. Maybe even prettier than Seventeen? Fat chance. You’re too biased with Sebong.

At the end of the hallway, you spot the door marked:   BTS.   Authorized Personnel Only.   No Cameras. 

And for you, there’s No Turning Back.

You take a breath. Pull your kit and push forward.

No one notices you at first. That’s fine. That’s how you like it. You don’t want to feel like the new kid, all awkward smiles and intros.

You set your kit down by the makeup mirrors and start laying out your brushes. Foundation. Concealer. Lip tints. Focus. Routine.

“Y/N-noona?”

Seokjin. The only one you’ve met before. He had a style consultation for his MV and you were basically asked to lead it as a sort of audition to this new role that you were considered for.

You spent hours scouring the internet for reference pics. But for you his visual was very straightforward. Matinee idol. Heart-achingly handsome, but still kinda attainable, if that even made sense. Full lips–you’re going to be playing this up as the focal point. Maybe dried fig or muted berry for pigment, just the lightest touch. He’s got thick, fluffy natural hair that you’ll need to tame with some lightweight products to push it back to a clean, slick leading man vibe.

“I don’t need botox anymore,” was what he famously said after an hour under your skillful hands. And the rest is history.

“Hello, Seokjin,” you nod.

“Have you met the rest of the members?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“It’s fine, they’re not important.”

“Yah!” Jimin shouts without looking, obviously eavesdropping. “Don’t talk shit about us, hyung. Hi, Y/N-noona.”

Jungkook glances up and strolls over, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Noona, I’m Jungkook. Wait—ohhhh. You’re Seventeen’s makeup noona?”

“You make it sound like I’m their property, but… yeah. Now yours, though.”

He giggles, bunny teeth on full display. “Mingyu’s like, in love with you.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. Probably. Maybe. You don’t know.

“I should text him,” Jungkook adds, already reaching for his phone, laughing.

Your cheeks go warm immediately. Good thing you already wore blush—at least it hides some of the embarrassment burning through you.

Before you can figure out how to respond, one of the senior hair stylists calls your name from the next room.

Saved by the bell.

You mutter a quick excuse and step away, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing around these fine men you didn’t expect to affect you this much.

You pull up the sleeves of your black blazer, checking your makeup station one last time. You just finished your pre-production meeting  with your team, going through today’s run of show and the shoot concept one last time before it begins.

The pegs are taped up on one of the walls, one for each member. You’re confident you can pull this off–you cannot not. It’s your first damn day and you sure as hell want to prove your worth.

Thankfully, your team is not all new. Half of them have been with BTS for years, while the other half are just like you, reassigned, when a few of the long-standing makeup noonas stepped away—schedule conflicts, burnout, one just had a baby. So naturally, BTS’s glam rotation shifted. Jungkook, Jimin, and Yoongi needed new regular artists.

Your right hand woman and the most senior from the tenured makeup girls, Hyein suggested you take him. “He’s not high maintenance. Just likes it quick and consistent.” And since working on him might be quicker than the rest, you will always have time to do quick checks with your junior members.

That’s how you ended up with Yoongi.

And truthfully? You are kind of glad.

You’ve always thought his face was interesting. Not just in a “he photographs well” way. Because most of them do. But there’s something in his bone structure that keeps your eyes coming back. Sharp where you don’t expect. Soft in places that should be angular.

You spend some time studying his features through online references, as you have done with Jin, and as you always do with new artists you handle.

His eyes are slightly mismatched. One double lid, one monolid. Not obvious. It gives him this quiet asymmetry and you already plan to adjust his liner differently every time, because you want to work with it, not against it.

His skin is bright, borderline unfair. “Brighter than your future” as one Tiktok said. He has a few scattered freckles that only show up in certain light. 

Two scars on his forehead near his left brow and one just north of it, then there’s another tucked under his right eye. You don’t intend to cover them up unless he tells you to. If anything, you think this makes him look a little badass. Seems like that’s the persona he’s going for anyway.

His lips are a soft kind of full—not pouty, but plush. Tinted naturally pink like he’s always just bitten them. Shame how in older photos, his top lip shape seems to be blurred with concealer. None of that now that you’re in charge.

And then there’s his hair. Always changing. Sometimes blonde, once ginger, sometimes brown red, once, briefly, a mint shade that made him look like a faerie. Now it’s coal black, natural. Undercut.

The first time you meet Yoongi, he bows and says exactly four words. “Welcome to the team.”

Not the warmest of welcomes, but it’s fine. You think he doesn’t say them unkindly. Maybe he’s just one of those brooding, mysterious idols. Still waters run deep or whatever.

You nod back, introduce yourself.

He eases back into his chair and closes his eyes. For the entire time.

His skin is warm under your fingers. Breath even. Doesn’t flinch when you brush under his eyes, around his cherry nose. When you’re finished, you say so. He glances at his reflection once in the mirror, moves his face left then right, then at you.

“Thank you. I like it,” he says, then walks out.

Cool.

The second time, he beats you to the glam room. He’s in the chair already, in a fuzzy yellow cardigan, hair ruffled from outside. There’s a faint sheen of sweat still drying on his temple. He gives you a tiny nod when you enter.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Four words. Same as last time.

“I’m well,” you respond as you unzip your brush case and start setting up. 

Once you’re done, you pull out a portable bluetooth speaker from the bottom of your trunk. 

“Do you mind music?” you ask Yoongi, who’s busy with his phone.

He shakes his head. “Play what you want.”

You power up your speaker, scroll through your playlist, and hit shuffle to an old 2000s playlist–the music of your youth.

Midway through, you hear a faint sound. And as you push the silicone applicator to his lips, you feel the gentle vibration as he hums along to the second verse of “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls.

You don’t comment, but for some reason, this realization makes you happy. The chorus swells.

The next time you meet, he asks to pick the music. You don’t mind. In fact you’re curious what some acclaimed musical genius like him would listen to.

“Want my speaker?”

He shrugs.

You hand it over.

He scrolls for less than ten seconds before music clicks on.

Is that Ring Ding Ding?

You both pause. Look at each other. Then laugh.

“Respect,” you murmur, hiding your smile. 

“It’s a classic,” he says, solemn as a priest.

After that, you start talking. Just… little things. Safe things.

Mostly about music.

You find out he’s got strong opinions about snare sounds in 90s R&B. He then shifts the playlist to that.

He tells you about working with Tablo and and you don’t know how bright you’re lighting up until he teases you, “want me to get you an autograph or something?” You admit you’ve had a crush on him for years. “Like what do you mean he’s ivy league smart and hella goofy, too?”

Then, you tell him about your teenage boy band phase (it’s not just Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC, you were even into the more obscure ones from the UK). You also admit you mourned for Aaliyah and Left Eye.

He confesses he went through an intense BoA obsession and that he may still be in love with her—even tried to copy her hair for one of his concerts.

Things escalate when you both try to rap the second verse of “Nice & Slow.” You fumble spelling U-S-H-E-R five seconds in, and it all goes downhill from there.

“It’s the H!” he hoots. “He says it differently.” You realize he is right. Koreans have that extra syllable.

Somehow, between blending pigments and sharing playlists, something opens up between you.

It’s not fast. It’s not grand. But it’s happening.

One morning, your playlist shuffles itself into an old ache:  “Don’t Wanna Cry” by Seventeen. You freeze only for a second, at Wonwoo’s ulgo ship ji ana, but Yoongi notices.

You try to focus on the foundation you’re patting onto his cheek, but something twists in your chest.

“Missing your old team?” Yoongi asks.

“They’re my boys,” you say, kind of offhand. Kind of not.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you feel his eyes on you through the mirror. He doesn't look annoyed or anything. Just still. Like he’s filing the words somewhere he’ll come back to later and you’re not sure why that makes your throat feel tight.

He’s good at silence, Yoongi. Knows when not to push. But the space he leaves is always heavy. You don’t know what to do with it.

But Jungkook does.

The maknae is sitting in the next chair over, scrolling on his phone, waiting for his makeup artist. At the mention of Seventeen, he perks up instantly, like a dog hearing a treat bag.

“Tell me something Mingyu can do better than me,” he challenges.

You blink at him. “Excuse me?”

“Noona.” He throws in a dramatic sigh. “Be honest.”

You have no idea why Jungkook wants to make this a 1 v 1 showdown between him and Gyu, but you’ll play along. It’s cute.

You glance at Yoongi again. He’s looking down now, pretending he’s not listening as he scrolls his phone, but the corner of his mouth is doing that twitchy thing that says otherwise.

You smirk. “I mean… I liked both your Calvin Klein campaigns.”

Jungkook puts his phone down slowly, like he’s processing emotions. “He only got that gig after I enlisted.”

“He still looked good though,” you sing-song.

“I—wow.” He shakes his head. “You really gonna do me like this in front of hyung?”

You hold up a hand. “Didn’t say he was better.”

“But you implied it,” Jungkook fires back, boba eyes bulging out of its sockets. “What else?”

“I mean, Mingyu is pretty good in the kitchen.”

That does it.

“No way,” Jungkook says, leaning forward like he’s about to attack. “Now I have to invite you over. I’m making dinner. Full spread. Five courses. Hyung can come, too.”

Yoongi doesn’t look up. “Don’t drag me into your ego crisis.”

“I’m including you out of respect,” Jungkook grumbles. “And as the primary witness to this… whatever shit this is.”

You shrug. “A free meal’s a free meal.”

“I’m gonna blow your mind, noona.” He sinks back in his chair with a groan. “Fuckin’ Mingyu…”

You laugh, then glance at Yoongi again. He’s finally looking at you, quiet but engaged. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something just a little tighter around his eyes.

So, you’ve assimilated with the team well enough. Jin greets you with food. Tae compliments your hair quite frequently, offered to braid it once. Jimin tries to read your texts over your shoulder.

You laugh with them. You start to care for them. But you’ve become especially fond of Yoongi.

Maybe it’s the way he watches without crowding. Maybe it’s how he listens so carefully when you talk about songs you love. Maybe it’s the way he only speaks when he has something real to say.

Unlike the maknaes, you won’t see him bouncing off the walls. He doesn’t demand attention. But he holds it anyway.

And lately, you’ve started wondering what it would feel like to hold his.

You were about to grab coffee when some delivery guy arrives with a monstrous amount of packages. Laura Mercier. MAC. Make Up For Ever. Jung Saem Mool.

It’s a ridiculous haul—glass bottles clinking, compacts stacked like poker chips, a forest of lip tints and pencils all jammed into branded boxes. The Beauty Boondocks. Guess this is part of your life now and you’re loving it.

Working with the biggest group in the world means this. A constant courtship by brands desperate for one sliver of the BTS glow. One backstage photo of Taehyung swiping lip balm on, or Jungkook half-blurred with a concealer palette in the background, and that’s a million views and sold-out SKUs easy.

You’re on the floor of the glam room, crouched between piles of cardboard, trying to sort products by category and fighting the growing sense that you’ve just been buried alive by luxury capitalism.

Suddenly, Yoongi walks in, he pauses just beside the door.

“Wow,” he says. “This is what Jungkookie’s house looks like the day after he gets a free night.”

You look up, a brow arching. “Online shopping problem?”

“Massive,” he replies dryly, stepping over a few boxes. “Once he ordered five different bed mattresses.”

You’re a bit stunned. Partly because you did not expect anyone to show up, much less Yoongi. Secondly, Jungkook’s house must be huuuge?

“He does not have 5 bedrooms if that’s what you’re thinking. There was one in his living room for a while…”

Yoongi crouches beside one of the larger boxes, tilting his head to read the logo printed on the side.

“So what’s all this?”

“Makeup, hair products, tools, etcetera…” You gesture vaguely, hands full of crinkle paper and unopened mascara tubes. “Brand offerings. Welcome to the chaos. No thanks to you guys.”

He glances around, taking it in. “Why are you doing this alone?”

“Sera called in sick. Hyein’s sorting more stuff in another room. The rest are on a day off or are in Hobi’s LV shoot. Though honestly, nobody told me about this shipment.”

You expect him to leave it at that. But instead, he lowers himself to the floor, his long legs under him, and grabs a box cutter from a nearby table.

Wordlessly, he drags a new box closer, slices through the tape with smooth precision.

You blink. “What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t look up. “Trying to be useful to my noona.”

Wait.

My noona. My noona?!

It’s playful. Casual. Probably harmless. But something about the way he says it—low and almost offhand, like it comes naturally—snags in your chest. You’re crazy for thinking that it actually means anything else, but you can’t help consider it.

You don’t answer right away. You just stare at him like he’s an illusion: pale hoodie sleeves shoved up to the elbows, veins flexing against cardboard, hair fluffy and soft, devoid of any product.

He glances at you sideways. Sees the look on your face. Smirks. “What?”

“I’m just not used to idols volunteering to help unpack foundation samples,” you say, lips twitching, as you hold up a few NARS bottles and place them on the table.

“That’s because your boys aren’t me.”

Woah. Shots fired at Seventeen and you’re too stunned to speak. Plus, the way his eyes flick back to yours as he says it—yeah, he knows exactly what he’s implying.

Your heart thuds once in response and it’s deafening.

You return to your pile, doing your best to focus. “Well. If you’re going to help, I hope you’re not colorblind.”

“Am I getting judged?”

“Harshly.”

He chuckles.

Not a minute later he is already complaining why there are 30 different shades of pink. 

It’s late.

Rehearsals ran over, and most of the team’s already scattered. The greenroom is dim, half the lights shut off, stage outfits draped over chairs. Someone left a half-eaten protein bar on the counter. (It was Jimin.) You’re too tired to throw it out.

Yoongi’s the last one to be touched up before a promo shoot he’s doing solo. Naturally, you’re also the last one still working. You let the rest of your team pack up after their member completes their segments.

Yoongi sits in the chair wordlessly. You flick on the ring light and squint at him.

“You look exhausted,” you murmur, brushing a warm palm across his cheek to feel the texture.

He shrugs. “You look worse.”

Wha—?

“Gee. Thanks.” You crack a smile. “Asshole.” You say with no real bite.

You work in silence for a minute. You spray a serum over his face, get it to calm and cool. His skin is a bit warm, a little flushed from movement. 

Looking away, you stifle a yawn, lift your glasses and rub at your eye with your knuckle.

“You sleep at all these days?” he asks suddenly.

Your fingers start massaging the serum near his cheek and decide to tease him a bit. “Don’t talk to me. You said I look like shit.”

He smirks, but his tone is soft. “That’s not what I said.”

“I get some in,” you say lightly. “Here and there.”

He hums. Doesn’t press. But something about his tone makes you keep going.

“I wake up a lot,” you admit. “Not always bad dreams. Just… waking. Like something kicks me from inside.”

“Been happening long?”

You shrug like it’s nothing. 

“A while,” you say. “Started around the time…” you pause, study him. His eyes are so kind, the kind you’ll want to spill all your secrets to. “My previous relationship ended.”

He looks at you in the mirror. You glance down, blending gently near the corner of his eye.

“It’s stupid,” you murmur. “It’s not like I miss him. I just… guess my body hasn’t caught up yet.”

Yoongi stays quiet for a few breaths. “It’s not stupid.”

Your throat pulls tight, but you smile like it doesn’t matter. “Anyway. It’ll pass.”

You expect him to nod. To change the subject. You don’t expect what he says next.

“Call me.”

Your hand stills from dipping the brush on the powder pot. “What?”

He tilts his face up just enough to meet your eyes.

“When it happens,” he says. “When you wake up and it’s three or four in the morning just… call.”

You blink. Why did this feel so intimate all of a sudden?

“I’m always up anyway,” he shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, and you remember to breathe.

You search his face, looking for a joke, a smirk, anything sleazy, even. There’s really none. Just sincerity. Like he knows what you’re going through and wants to share your load.

“Okay,” you say quietly, willing your heart to stop pounding so loud.

He holds his palm out. You’re dumbstruck for a second before he tsks and says, “phone.”

Days after, you find a curious box in your kit. Quietly tucked between your brushes.

It says: Tae Pyeong Hwan and when you input it on Naver, it’s apparently a viral anti-anxiety drink.

There wasn’t any note. No name. But you know it’s him. And you don’t know what to feel.

You take a sachet and gulp. Willing it to work before you see him again and your heart does that flip flop thing it keeps doing when he’s around.

The first time you entertain the idea that Yoongi might be interested in you, you actually laughed. It’s not even because he’s an idol, or a billionaire, or a god among men. 

You know you’re a solid 8, maybe even an 8.5 on a good hair day. You’re established enough to have your own house and car. You’ve got enough industry connections and some seed money if you decide to start your own thing. You got it goin’ awn, okay?

You’re a catch for any man, BTS member or not.

But a younger man? Really, Y/N?!

It’s not like you're breaking the law. He’s literally 32. He’s grown. (And shit, you know he’s grown after being in a backstage quick-change with him.)

Unfortunately, try as you might, the attraction has already rooted itself in your brain. 

Are you going to do anything about it? Jury’s still out. HYBE contracts have made it clear that there’ll be no inter-office dating, but does anybody really follow that shit?

Jeon Jungkook’s apartment is ridiculously nice. Like stylish-in-a-way-that-costs-a-fuckton-of-money nice. You barely have one shoe off when he’s already tugging you in with a giant bunny grin, sliding along his hardwood floors with his silly toe-socks.

“Place looks great,” you say.

“You should see the noraebang room.”

“The what now?”

There’s a woman sitting on the couch, sipping wine with her feet tucked under her. She looks up with a soft smile, and Jungkook lights up all over again.

He gestures proudly. “This is Haeun, my girlfriend.”

“Hello, unnie.” She stands to greet you, and you immediately like her. She’s model-pretty, but not in an intimidating way. Choreographer, he tells you, for a rookie girl group. You’ve never seen her around the office, then again it’s a huge building. Interesting, a case of inter-office dating under Bang Si-Hyuk’s nose.

You’re halfway through complimenting her earrings when the door bell sounds.

Yoongi walks in and you swear the temperature in the room changes.

He’s wearing a soft cashmere cardigan in a warm, oat beige. It’s a deeper neckline than what you’ve seen him wear before and, uh, it’s gotten really warm right now.

You feel blood rushing on your cheeks as you take the expanse of creamy skin on his chest. The rest of the look: Brown slacks, clean sneakers, hair barely styled but he looks stupidly good anyway. His lips, a soft sheen to it, looks like a freshly swiped balm.

You know Jungkook prepped food but this is the kind of full-course meal you like… 

Yoongi pushes his shoes to the side, handing the host a bottle of wine. “Sorry, traffic.”

Jungkook claps him on the back. “Nah you’re good, hyung. You made it just in time. Noona’s here.” 

Yoongi stumbles forward with a tight-lipped grin to Jungkook’s shit-eating one. Did Jungkook just push Yoongi towards you? 

“Heeyyy,” you nod, smiling tightly.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, sits across you. “What time did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago.”

You glance to your side, and Haeun has vanished. You clear your throat, feeling 50 shades of awkward now that the object of your newest crush has arrived. You feel yourself blush as Yoongi unwittingly manspreads in front of you.

As you calculate ways you can potentially survive this night, Jungkook thankfully hollers from the other room, inviting the guests to settle in.

You sit at the dining table, Haeun beside Jungkook, Yoongi beside you. And it feels… a little like a double date. Is it? You don’t know. And you’re too afraid to ask. 

Yoongi pours you a glass of wine. 

The one he brought. 

The one you had mentioned once was your favorite.

Jungkook, dramatic as always, starts announcing each course like he’s hosting a cooking show.

Course one is an apple and walnut salad with this spicy-sweet sesame dressing. You take a bite and your eyes widen. “Okay, wait. This is actually good.”

Jungkook looks offended. “Rude?”

Course two is a creamy chestnut soup with bits of crispy pancetta. Haeun says she helped him chop things. You raise your glass to her.

Course three is grilled scallops with a yuzu butter glaze. Jungkook explains how long it took to get the sear right. You make appreciative noises, cos wow this shit’s actually fire. Yoongi hums in agreement.

When Jungkook and Haeun head to the kitchen to bring out the next course, Yoongi quietly plops another scallop on your plate.

You blink. “What are you doing?”

He starts drizzling it with sauce like a damn chef. 

“Serving you,” he says simply. “You seemed to like this one.”

“I did,” you say. “Shouldn’t I be doing that, though? I’m older.”

He looks at you then. Direct, but soft. Like he’s not even sure why you’re bringing up age right now, because it doesn’t matter. “I’m being a gentleman. Let me.”

You don’t know what to do with that. Where to look. How to sit still. All you can think is yeah, you’ll let him do anything to you at this point. And you’ll always say,

“Thank you.”

Course four is bulgogi tenderloin with a sweet garlicky glaze. Jungkook says the marinade was 30 hours minimum. Haeun nods like she’s heard that fact 20 times minimum. Okay, you kinda believe him because it was delectable.

Course five is a tangerine panna cotta. It wobbles beautifully. You groan after the first spoonful, and Yoongi actually reaches forward to pat his younger brother on the shoulder. It is that good.

“Okay. Fine,” you say, leaning back. “This wins.”

Jungkook beams. “Better than Mingyu?”

“Fuck Mingyu,” you lift your glass.  

“YES!!! Hear that, babe?” Jungkook yells in victory and actually picks Haeun up bridal style and spins her in a circle around the living room. She shrieks, laughing the whole time. 

You and Yoongi watch from the table, slightly tipsy and amused.

“They’re cute,” you murmur.

Yoongi smiles, eyes on them. “Yeah.”

“Seems that no one really follows that no dating rule in HYBE, no?”

“I do,” Yoongi notes with a shrug, and the high from the scrumptious dinner unceremoniously crashes. You’re suddenly uneasy, acidic.

“Ah,” you nod, picking up your wine glass and downing the last of it in one big gulp to push the lump in your throat. 

Play it cool. You’re a grown ass woman. Shit.

You excuse yourself, powder your nose, apply your jelly tint, and simultaneously, well, spiral. 

So Min Yoongi doesn’t shit where he eats. Okay. He apparently follows rules? Huh… Make it make sense, though? 

Why should you be so disappointed? Plenty of fish in the sea. Except when you’re pushing forty and you’re too damn tired to cast a net out.

You get back in the living room and have another round of drinks, except Yoongi who says he is driving. 

You guess it’s time to head home when you see Haeun stifle a yawn, but Jungkook convinces you to stay for a bit more, just enough for him to video call Mingyu and gloat. Between the boyish bickering and another glass of wine, you’re thankfully feeling a little floatier again.

Later, when you’re putting your shoes back on in the entryway, you glance over at Yoongi. He’s scrolling on his phone, one hand in his pocket.

Your phone pings. Kakao T. Your ride’s on the way.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you say to Jungkook. 

He nods, placing an arm around Haeun. “Anytime, noona.”

Yoongi looks up. “You booked a ride?”

“Yeah. Should be here soon.”

He slips his phone into his jacket.

“Cancel it. I’ll drive you home.”

You blink. “What?”

“It’s late. Let me take you,” he says, tone slightly commanding.

You want to say ‘yes, sir’ out loud. But you keep it together. Barely. And then of course, you cancel the ride.

Yoongi leads you to the parking garage. At some point you think you feel his hand ghosting your lower back.

The drive is quiet. He picks a playlist you both have listened to before. It’s a vibe. Music playing low. City lights reflecting off the dashboard. Yoongi’s hand rests on the wheel, rings catching in the glow. 

He smells good. The veins in his hands are flexing.

You try not to stare. Or breathe weird. 

When he pulls up to your place, he shifts into park but doesn’t unbuckle yet. You unclick your seatbelt slowly.

“You looked beautiful tonight.”

Your breath catches. Full stop.

You turn to say something—thank you, or you too, or kiss me now—but words get stuck in your throat He just smiles softly.

“Good night,” he says.

“Good night,” you parrot before you step out.

The air hits you different. Your hands feel weird. You feel like a teenager after a first date she’s not sure was a date, but definitely made her feel some type of way.

That night, when you dream, it’s his eyes. And when you wake up? You’re not sure if you want to see him again or never see him again just to keep the dream intact.

The studio is chaos in the best way. BooSeokSoon are doing what they do best: being loud, dramatic, and infectious.

You’re standing off to the side watching Yoongi line up with them, the camera propped up and ready, his face unreadable as always, but there’s a looseness to his shoulders that tells you he’s in the mood to play. (And that he took a shot of something before he went in.)

You pull a balm from your pouch and swipe it gently onto his lips before he steps into frame.

“Cherry again?” he asks.

You nod. “Your fanbase will thank me.”

He smirks. “Noted.”

And then they start.

BSS hits every beat like their entire career depends on this one Tiktok challenge. And Yoongi? He’s keeping up. Relaxed, slightly silly, effortlessly cute.

You still don’t get Tiktok honestly.

When the music cuts, you clap before you even realize it.

They check playback, talking over each other. You wipe the sweat that has formed in Yoongi’s temple with a dab of tissue. But, as everyone focuses on the phone, Yoongi looks over at you.

“Which take was better?”

Caught off guard, you stammer, “the uh-i think the second.”

He hums, then he tells the girl he likes the second clip. BSS agrees.

You look at the boys as they chorus agreement, but when you glance back at Yoongi, he nods once, slow and soft. That grin of his (the real one, not the camera one) edges onto his face. It says, Go ahead. I know you miss them.

And you do. 

Before you know it, Seungkwan is already crashing into your side.

“Noonaaaa,” he sings, throwing his arm around you. “Still pretty..”

Seokmin grins, pulling you into a side-hug. “We were just talking about you yesterday.”

“Don’t do it again. I had an awful coughing fit yesterday. Should have known it was you morons.”

“You’re still superstitious.” Soonyoung shakes his head.

The exchange is quick, familiar, a little chaotic. Just like always. But it feels good, like slipping into a jacket you forgot used to fit perfectly. A few more jokes, a photo, and they’re off. There’s someone yelling about dinner, someone else remembering they have a shoot in twenty minutes. 

The social media crew also left, as well as the hair stylist who has another thing in ten. You stay behind, gathering your things. 

Yoongi’s still here, too. He’s at the far end, wiping sweat from the back of his neck with a towel. He grabs his water bottle, takes a long drink, then walks to the wall. You follow suit since everybody has filed out.

Click. He cut the lights.

The room drops into soft shadows, lit only by a few glow strips along the floor.

He’s by the door, tilts his head as he waits for you.

You stop just in front of him. 

“Didn’t say goodbye to your boys,” he says with a slight tease at the end.

You shrug, “They know I’ll see them again.”

He hums. “You look happy.”

“I am.”

You think that’s the end of it. Because why would you be having a whole conversation with the lights out?

He shifts his weight forward, closing the distance between you by a step. Close enough that you can see the sheen of sweat drying along his temple. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Close enough that if you breathed just a little deeper, you'd catch his scent.

Then he leans in. And before you know it, you taste the cherry balm you swiped on his lips minutes before.

The kiss is so soft, so sweet. Just as quickly as it started though, he pulls away. You feel his breathy sigh caress your cheek as he whispers your name and mumbles, “Let’s go out.” 

But before you can form any response, he opens the door.

And, in fact, goes out.

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?

Part Two >

A/N: Scream with meeeee! Idk. Isn’t it yoongi core to kiss, confess and yeet? I recently saw a video of when he met an american artist, he shook his hand, said i like you then looked awkwardly away. LMAO. 

Hope you had fun reading part 1! I’d appreciate feedback, like tell me any favorite scenes or what you wanna see more of.

Leave a note if you wanna be tagged on the next part :)

As always, thanks for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

Permanent Taglist: (1 of 1)

@wonh0oe @woozuzu @glossdebut @kiki-zb

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm- @angellekookie

Divider by: @/cafekitsune

[tangerineastronaut]

bibliophile ⟡ j. yunho

part two

you're stressed...your study buddy has an idea.

Pairing: Yunho x Fem!Student!Reader Genre: Smut - dark twist Requested: Yes/No w.c. 5.8k Warnings: heavy on the smut, semi public sex (ish), mutual pining, food? - THE SUCKER - he does...things with it. Yunho is a FREAK. Reader is desperate for yunho dick (yes YOU, reader) Spoiler warnings are in comments if you need them. A/N: So, this is sort of two requests in one, however I don't want to disappoint anyone so I'll post it solo. I hope it's okay! <3 god deleted my ticket to heaven with this one. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Taglist: @baby-stay92 If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please DM me or click here.

You release a tired sigh and rub your eyes, throwing your pen down. It bounces off of your ridiculously thick textbook and lands on the papers scattered around your study partner. 

“Ah ah. No crashing yet, we’ve got three more chapters,” Yunho says with a laugh, tapping you on the end of the nose with his own pen. You pout, making a face at him before dramatically collapsing on the table. 

“I give up. You can become a lawyer, I’ll go back to making sandwiches,” you groan, muffled against pages of your future. 

“I thought you liked working at the sandwich shop?”

“I did,” you reply, tilting your head to look at him. “But sandwich shops don’t pay me six figures.”

“Then stop whining,” Yunho shrugs. You grumble words unintelligible even to yourself and sit up, fixing your hair. You stretched, yawned, checked your phone for the thousandth time that evening. Finals were next week. Then there was the Bar exam. You were so close to being y/n l/n, attorney at law…but you were beginning to feel nauseous at the mere sight of words on a page. 

“Wanna take a break?” Yunho suggests, leaning back to stretch. You avoid looking at the way his sweater rides up, revealing inches of what appears to be a toned belly. 

“No,” you mumble, forcing yourself to look away. “If I leave this library…I think I may never return.”

Yunho chuckles and nods, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. For a few minutes, you both just sit there, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Usually the library is filled with students, exactly like you—stressed, depressed, drowning in student debt and reading assignments. 

“Yunho?” you mumble. He hums a response, looking over at you. You swallow. “If I start to cry, will you judge me?”

“Not at all,” he responds. You nod once, feeling tears burning in your eyes. 

For the next hour or so, you take turns reading passages and summarizing them, going through various laws and statutes that you could barely comprehend. Your brain felt as if it might explode, and you considered calling it a night, but it was only 10 p.m. and you’d be damned if you gave out before midnight. 

“What the hell are these ‘title 16 provisions?’” you scoff, crinkling your nose. “Were these even part of our assignment?”

“Let me see,” Yunho says. He scoots his chair over to your side of the table rather than just moving seats, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. And god, his arm slides over the back of your chair as he leans in to look at the tiny words on your page. 

He smells like coffee and the peanut butter granola bar you shared earlier, and this close you can see that he has very light freckles on his cheeks. You kind of want him to never move. 

“Ah, no this isn’t part of this assignment but we will have to know it for finals,” he says, words going in one of your ears and out the other. He begins talking about these provisions, but you must be numb to all forms of communication other than Jeong Yunho’s body heat. 

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” you mumble, shaking your head. Yunho has a funny look on his face, one brow raised. Oh god. Oh god. He caught you staring like a fucking creep. 

“...You good?” he chuckles. You swallow and quickly nod, brushing your hair back so fast you nearly hit him in the face. 

“Yep, uh huh,” you mumble. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Oh,” he says as though relieved. “Good. Well, if you need to take a break, let me know.”

He begins to move; you panic and grab his wrist. 

“Wait! You didn’t explain this part to me,” you say, pointing at a random section on the page. Yunho sits down again and tilts his head. 

“You need me to explain…marital property to you?” he asks, sounding both amused and disbelieving. 

Well, if you’re gonna be a bad liar, at least you’ll be persistent.

“Yes,” you nod. “Just like a refresher, you know? My brain is cooked.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, and you feel your cheeks heat up. It feels like he knows something you don’t know, and you don’t like that. So you yank him back into his seat and let go of his wrist, pretending to be very interested in one of the most basic aspects of your degree. 

Marital property is boring, even when the hottest guy in your class is explaining it to you. And what’s worse—he knows. You know he knows. He’s explaining basic concepts to you, and then explaining the basics of those basic concepts, all the while keeping a little smirk on his handsome face. You consider caving, thinking of any possible excuse for your behavior. You’re delirious from lack of sleep, that’s actually true. But you were too deep in this to give up now. 

“That’s most of it,” Yunho finally says, long fingers splayed over the textbook. They nearly reach from one end of the open book to the other. You shiver. “I guess we should move into parental rights—”

“Yunho,” you begin with a sigh, ready to admit defeat. He smiles innocently, resting his chin in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“I—”

You freeze, having forgotten how to form sentences. Yunho’s still smiling at you, but his free hand is now resting on your thigh. You thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a skirt today. 

His palm is large, warm, spanning much of the plush skin there. He’s not gripping it, but it’s still very obviously intentional. You feel your cheeks burn hot; you’re determined to remain unaffected.

“Nevermind,” you mumble. He chuckles and turns back to the page, though he doesn’t move his hand. 

You don’t ask him to. 

You go back to your respective chapters, thankfully far beyond the basics, but his hand stays right where it is. He even reaches over his other arm to sip his coffee, refusing to move it. Your skin burns in the shape of his fingers; you almost want to push him away simply because your body is reacting to his touch in a way that’s making you feel crazy. You’re practically feverish, just because he’s near you. Pathetic, honestly. 

When you sigh and rub your eyes, those long fingers twitch, making you jump. You try to play it off, though you know he’s aware of your reaction, because he does it again. When you don’t react as dramatically, he squeezes gently.

Your knee jerks up so fast it hits the table, causing your belongings to rattle, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. Yunho chuckles, though doesn’t move his hand. You clear your throat as though everything is normal. As though he’s not currently squeezing your upper thigh. 

“Yunho,” you say quietly. 

“Hm?” He doesn't bother looking up from his textbook.

“What are we doing?”

He does look up this time.

“Studying,” he says, giving you a sweet smile. You narrow your eyes. 

If he was going to do this, then so were you. You were sleep deprived, numb to the world, and horny as hell. So you parted your knees. 

Not much, just an inch or so, but very obvious. You didn’t miss the way Yunho’s throat worked as he swallowed, clearly not expecting the reciprocation. You go back to your textbook, but your victory is short lived, however, as his large hand slides further inward.

You’re flustered. But you’re also stubborn. So you drop your pen and look him in the eyes as you open your knees. Yunho’s gaze is steady as he slowly moves his hand, as though expecting you to stop him. You don’t. 

Yunho went back to reading and you did the same, just as his pinky brushed the crease of your inner thigh. You knew you were wet, knew he could probably feel the moist heat radiating from your body behind your pink panties, but you chose to be nonchalant. Until he rubbed the back of his knuckle against your panties, over your clit. 

The soft moan that escapes you is mortifying.

Yunho quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, laughing breathily as your brows pull together and you shudder. He looks as shocked as you are, though now you’re hazy, focused only on how good it felt, and wanting more. 

“Shh,” he chuckles nervously, glancing around despite the fact that you’re the only ones here. “No wonder you act like you’re walking around on thin ice. You’re frustrated as hell, huh?”

“P-Please,” you whimper pitifully against his palm, though it’s muffled. He moves his hand and you grip his wrist, looking up at him. You silently communicate your needs, praying he has mercy and doesn’t force you to say it out loud. Yunho glances around one more time, licking his lips before looking down at you like a fucking steak on a platter. 

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta be quiet for me,” he murmurs. You nod quickly, gasping when he effortlessly yanks your chair closer to him. He adjusts his glasses before lowering his hand to your thighs, gently stroking them. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly. You open your mouth, but he presses a finger to your lips. “Quietly.”

“Yes, yes,” you whine. “T-Touch me.”

Yunho bites his lower lip, as though imagining doing much, much more than that. When he rubs your thighs again, your knees fall open and you stifle a moan behind your sleeves. Yunho smiles at the sight of you, slipping his hand between your legs again. 

This time, he’s more careful, though it’s much more frustrating for you. You squirm when he strokes either side of your cunt, making a ‘v’ and squeezing your plush pussy lips between them. You moan again, loudly, and Yunho scrambles to cover your mouth. 

“Baby, you’ve gotta be—”

“Quiet, I know,” you pout, gripping his wrist. “C-can’t help it…feels good.”

Yunho swallows, letting his fingers brush against you again. You manage to stay quiet this time, but your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmurs, drawing his hand back. You nearly protest, but he presses his index finger to your clit like a button and you jolt, covering your mouth just in time. Yunho smirks. 

“H-Haven’t had sex,” you say, fisting the sleeve of his sweater as he pushes again. “In m-months.”

“Why?” he asks, beginning to rub slow circles against your panties. You feel your wetness spreading beneath them, but you don’t care. You grip the edge of the table and swallow. 

“Busy,” you breathe, licking your lips. Yunho’s eyes follow your tongue. You don’t notice. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes,” you nod frantically. 

Yunho uses the hand between your legs to turn your entire body toward him. You want to mention how attractive that is, but he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is nothing like his touch; there’s nothing dirty or hurried about it. His nose brushes the crease of yours as he tilts your heads to the side, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss that makes no sense when his fingers are currently resting against your panties beneath your skirt. 

He seems to have forgotten what he was doing amidst your soft kisses, as you break away from his lips to impatiently bounce and whine. Yunho smirks and begins rubbing his middle finger directly over your clit, applying very little pressure. He kisses you again, and you throw your arms around his neck, trying to push your body into his. His knee prevents you from doing so. 

“Nng…what are you doing?” you whine, fisting his sweater. “Wanna…wanna be in your lap.”

Your own admission makes your cheeks flush red, but you don’t care. You’re horny and your crush’s hand is between your thighs. 

“Not yet, baby,” he mumbles, stealing another lazy kiss. “Wanna keep you like this. I like how desperate you are.”

“I…I’m not desperate,” you mumble. Yunho bites his lower lip and applies more pressure to your clit, you buck your hips and grip his sleeve. He’s laughing, but you don’t care, aching for more of him. 

“Desperate,” he hums, pulling you in for another kiss. You don’t understand his obsession with kissing you; wasn’t he as horny as you were? But you kissed him back anyway, because you’ve had a crush on this guy since your freshman year and even the slut hormones clouding your brain couldn’t block that much out. He was a damn good kisser too, taking the lead and hardly giving you time to breathe.

In contrast to his soft mouth, Yunho’s index finger hooks your soaked panties, tugging them to the side. His finger brushes your bare cunt, though he knowingly silences your moans with a kiss. 

“What can I do?” he asks once you finally break apart. You’re unwilling to let him go, however, pulling his lips back to yours.. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble between kisses, body buzzing with need. “Whatever you want.”

“Can I go in here?” 

He prods at the needy hole between your folds and you fucking purr, clutching his sweater and pulling him close with a whine. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. He waits for you to eagerly nod, then brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. “Open.”

You do as he says and he slips his fingers inside. You nearly moan around them as you instinctively suck and lick his digits; they’re long and thick, two of them practically as big as a few hookups you’ve had in the past. Yunho watches, pupils wide as you act like an obedient doll a little too eager to be fingered in a library at midnight. 

When he pulls his fingers out, they’re slick and shiny with your drool, and you see him suck in air. You blush, a little embarrassed at how thorough of a job you’ve done. You expect Yunho to go beneath your skirt, but he slides his wet fingers in his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen, next to the look of pure bliss in his eyes as he sucks your saliva off of his fingers and replaces it with his own. You decide then that you do not want him to finger you. 

“Fuck me,” you blurt out. 

You barely register what you’ve said, but you’re damn near ready to jump his bones. Yunho blinks in surprise, obviously not having expected that. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth.

“Really?” he asks. He sounds surprised for reasons you don’t understand, but you nod. 

“Yeah,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss. “Want you inside me. All of you.”

“Fuck,” Yunho groans. He grabs your face in his hands and kisses you back, harder. Your hands are shaky as they go for his jeans, but then he freezes like you’ve just slapped him. 

“What?” you ask, breaking the kiss. Yunho curses and rubs his face with both hands, tilting back in his chair. “What is it, yu?”

“I don’t…fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

He runs a hand through his hair like this is the biggest mistake of the century. You bite your lower lip—the idea of leaving tonight and not getting fucked by him makes you genuinely want to cry. 

“We could…you know?” you mumble, face hot. “I mean, I-I’m clean. Obviously, haven’t had sex in god knows when—”

“No,” Yunho says, shaking his head. “I don’t trust myself.”

“Don’t trust yourself to what?” you frown. Yunho looks at you, 

“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to make myself pull out once I’m in you,” he murmurs. “We need a condom.”

You swallow. You really shouldn’t push; but you need to hear more. 

“How do you know?” you breathe, licking your lips. 

“C’mere.”

“What?”

Yunho reaches over, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you into his lap and you gasp, able to feel the rigid line of his cock beneath you. But he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss again. 

“I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he hums, and you mewl in response, grinding down against him. He kisses you again to stifle what was no doubt a moan. 

“Y-Yeah?” you manage to squeak out. Yunho nods. 

“Yeah. Not gonna be able to pull out if I’m balls deep in that little cunt with you fucking crying for it like this.”

Fuck. You needed him. To be honest, with or without the condom, but if he felt it was necessary.

“Let’s go get one,” you mumble dizzily. “A c-condom. There’s a convenience store down the street.”

Yunho frowns, looking at the clock on the wall.

“The library will be locked, won’t it? Don’t we have to lock up?”

You lean back in his lap, smiling. 

“Yes. But I’ve got a key,” you chime.

The moment you stepped into the store, you immediately regretted it and felt all the horny escape you. Not really, but it was embarrassing as hell, and painfully obvious as to what you were doing here. Yunho didn’t seem to mind, his hand tightly clasping yours as he guided you toward the back. 

You had a little trouble finding the condoms—it made you inexplicably happy when Yunho suggested asking the clerk as he didn’t know either, even though your answer was a firm NO—but eventually found the rack next to the sex pills and cold sore cream. 

Hot. 

Yunho squints, and you cross your arms impatiently. You grab a box and shake it. 

“It’s not a shoe store, here,” you mumble, pushing the box into his hand. Yunho glances over the label and smirks, tossing it back on the shelf. You want to ask what the hell is so funny when you’re so fucking wet your panties are sticking to your thighs, but then he finally makes a choice and puts the box in your hands. Oh.

Oh. 

XXL. Makes sense.

You make him grab a few more things as though that makes the purchase less shameful. When you go to check out, you look everywhere but at the clerk—until he has the audacity to speak to the man holding your hand, very obviously purchasing condoms so the two of you can go fuck in a library. 

“Finals week?” the guy says. Yunho slides his card across the counter and squeezes your hand.

“Finals week,” he nods.

“I just realized we could’ve gone to my apartment,” you say, unlocking the library door. Yunho leaned against the wall, unwrapping the candy he’d apparently decided on last minute. A red round sucker. “It’s only a few minutes away.”

You’d been given a key to the library your second year here, as you were a trusted student who often pulled all nighters—and you lived in the shitty part of campus where the power often went out. You were aware this was a total abuse of that power, but you figured if you showed Yunho to Ms. Lin, she’d understand. 

“Yeah, well, my fantasies during puberty weren’t at apartments,” Yunho shrugs, holding the door for you. You head inside and find your table, where you drop the bag of your purchased items. Yunho grabs it, immediately fishing out the box. 

“Very boy of you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Let me guess, the hot librarian offers to help you find your dick? Is that part of the dewey decimal system?”

Yunho smiles. “Can we get back to you whining for me to fuck you? I liked that.”

“I was not—”

Your freakishly tall study partner grabs your wrist, tugging you against him. You swallow and look up, lips parted at the sudden contact. 

“Not what?” he asks. You blink, but something is suddenly pushing at your lips. You open dumbly, feeling too obedient as you take whatever he’s putting in your mouth apparently. The taste of artificial cherry makes you grimace. 

Yunho backs you up to the table, crowding you against it. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheek, thumbs brushing below your ears. You realize you’ve been staring at him wordlessly, sucker in your mouth. 

“How’s it taste?” he asks.

“Good,” you mumble. It doesn’t taste good, you hate cherry, but if Jeong Yunho puts something in your mouth, you love it, you decide. Cherry is your new favorite flavor. 

“I doubted if they sold gags, so,” he chuckles. “This’ll do.”

You frown, but he takes the stick of the sucker before you can respond. 

“Open,” he says. You open. 

You see his eyes twinkle, almost like he can’t believe how well you’re listening to him. If only he knew you’d do anything he asked. 

Rather than pull it out, Yunho rubs the sucker around your mouth. He coats your tongue with the sticky flavor, then the inside of your cheek. By the time he pulls it out, you don’t realize you’re drooling, mouth open for him.

He pops the sucker in his own mouth, just like his fingers, and you shudder. Then he’s slipping his hands beneath your skirt, pushing your panties down your thighs. 

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, more curious than concerned. Yunho takes the sucker out and kisses your cheek, then your lips. You can taste it on his tongue, just like yours. 

Something sticky and wet prods at your clit and you gasp, but Yunho wraps an arm around your waist and keeps you from pulling away. You squeak helplessly in shock, caught between mind numbing bliss and disbelief. He’s rubbing the bulbous head of the sucker against your clit. 

“Shh…figure it’s too risky to eat you out properly,” he hums in your ear, crushing you to his chest. You squirm, though not out of discomfort. 

You have no idea how to react, hands gripping his sweater as he holds you in place. The candy feels warm and sticky, sliding through your cunt juices as he teases you with it. 

“I wasn’t going to,” he says, voice strained as though he’s doing all he can to hold back. “But I saw it and…well fuck, baby, if I’m honest, I just wanted to see if you were desperate enough to try and fuck yourself on a piece of candy.”

You whine and bury your head against his shoulder, because you fucking are. You are desperate enough to try, because he slides the candy between your lips and you jolt when it brushes your hole.

“F-Fuck, Yunho,” you gasp, nails digging into fabric. You hear him laugh, and it sounds so fucking cocky, like he knew you’d end up like this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you work yourself to ruin on a piece of candy. 

He slides it beneath the hood of your clit, twisting the stick in his fingers. Your knees buckle, but he’s gripping you tight. He works it like a toy, rubbing up and down, focusing on your clit until you’re nearly there before he moves it again. It didn’t feel this big when it was in your mouth, but you’ve never wanted something inside you so bad. 

“Oh my god,” you moan, thighs clamping together. It doesn’t stop his hand, or the candy, the rounded tip pushing against your hole. He starts rolling it again, and you gasp as you feel yourself snapping inside, the hot neediness spilling over the edges. You try to warn him, but only manage to squeak.

“Are you…are you cumming on a fucking lollipop?” Yunho asks, voice filled with awe. You nod. 

Your ears ring, your vision blurs, and you feel something pushing against your mouth. It’s Yunho’s hand you realize, but you can’t stop, can’t stop shaking and screaming and there’s something wet on your cheeks. 

You haven’t had a proper orgasm in months, maybe even a year, and were it not for Yunho holding you up, you’re pretty damn sure you would’ve fainted. 

When you open your eyes, Yunho is laughing quietly and hugging you tight, rubbing your back. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” he asks, sounding concerned and impressed. You sniff and nod, using the back of your hand to wipe your cheeks. Yunho cups your face and uses his thumbs to clean you up. You were crying. 

“I’m sorry, jesus, I didn’t think it was that bad,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You realize then that the damn sucker is in his mouth.

You whine, yanking him forward until you’re kissing him. It’s clumsy, but he takes the sucker out and tosses it on the table behind you. You begin working desperately at his jeans, and hear him release a cherry flavored groan. 

“Still gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, keeping his lips against yours. 

“God yes,” you say in a shaky voice. “P-Please.”

“I can do that,” Yunho breathes. He places a large hand on the softness of your belly, gently pushing you back. 

Yunho towers over you, one hand moving to cup your thigh and open you up so he can stand between them. The other goes to his jeans, and you find yourself biting your lip and digging your nails into your palms. 

XXL?

“Since you look like you’re about to fucking eat me,” Yunho says with a laugh, “why don’t you do it? Hm? When’s the last time you put a condom on?”

You feel yourself blush at having been caught, but sit up to snatch the box near you. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, refusing to give him a proper answer.

Your hands are too shaky to open the box, so you end up ripping it down the side, condoms spilling out. You sigh anyway and grab one, slipping the foil packet between your teeth. You move your hands to his jeans, and realize that for the first time…you’re nervous. 

Until now your brain had been sex focused; it still was, but your post orgasm clarity made you realize how fucking desperate you looked. You roughly popped open the button of his jeans. 

Yunho was so damn tall that his hips were practically level with your face whilst you were on the short table. This meant that, as soon as you’d tugged his boxers down, you suddenly found yourself face to face with the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. 

XXL.

For a moment you were too dumbstruck—why did they bother sculpting the soft dicks when the hard ones could look like…this? All veins and smooth skin and a pink mushroom head that looked perfectly designed for…use. You wanted it in your mouth. But he hadn’t technically put his mouth on you, and you were both in a library, and right now you were starting to get a little shaky at the idea of this thing going anywhere near your neglected pussy, so you swallowed your resolve and took the condom from between your teeth. 

Yunho watched as you struggled to tear open the packet, biting your lower lip in frustration. You finally got it open, sighing as you placed the rubber at the tip. He grabbed your hands then, and you paused. Shit. Were you doing this wrong? 

“We don’t have to do anything,” he mumbles softly, cupping your chin. “You wanna stop right now? We stop. Not trying to ruin the mood, just want you to know it’s okay.”

You shake your head.

“I’m okay, thanks,” you say quietly. “It’s just…fuck, Yunho.”

He laughs, his little ego having returned just a bit, you wanted to roll your eyes and kiss him at the same time. He bites his lower lip and strokes his thumb over yours. 

“I’ll be gentle,” he hums. “You can take it for me.”

Fuck. Yes, you absolutely can. 

Yunho guides you onto your back, though you settle on your elbows, propped up for him. You watch as he squeezes the rest of the lube from the packet onto his cock, giving a few tugs before nodding at you. You weren’t sure if you were excited or scared, but there were two heartbeats and one was between your legs. 

He pushes your legs apart and guides his cock forward. You lick your lips and let your knees fall open, bunching your skirt around your waist, offering yourself to him. Yunho sucks in air through his teeth and curses. 

“So fucking pretty,” he hums, supporting his weight on one palm as he brushes his cock against you. You shiver as the cold lube is smeared around your sensitive cunt. “Knew it from the day I saw you freshman year in a skirt just like this one. Thought I was gonna die when you smiled at me.”

“I didn’t know you remembered,” you mumbled. You were so nervous your first day, which wasn’t helped by the hot guy who approached you and asked if you were lost. Apparently you could stop feeling ashamed for having mind fucked him back then. 

“Of course I do,” Yunho chuckles, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit. “So cute, how you blushed when I talked to you. You still do that, you know.”

“Shut up,” you mutter. Yunho laughs, then licks his lips. 

“Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it’s too much,” he says. You nod.

The swollen head of his cock catches on your hole, and Yunho uses his weight to lean forward and urge himself inside. It aches a bit, not just from the size but fuck it’s been so long since you’ve had something more than your own fingers in you. Your thoughts go from not so bad to okay damn to holy fuck there’s more? Because he keeps pushing and you keep taking, and you feel every inch of him filling your insides while his body offers more. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” Yunho whines, still gripping the base of his cock as he guides it into you. Your head falls back and you curse at nothing; his cock is somehow too big but perfectly sized at the same time and you’ve never felt so god damn full. “Look at you, that needy little cunt is swallowing me babygirl. Keep fucking taking it.”

His words make you dizzy, and you whine when he’s finally fully seated. You feel heavy, pinned to the table, as though you can’t move. You reach down and feel the rigid sides of his cock, shocked to feel just how much is inside you. 

“How’s that, beautiful?” Yunho asks. He places both palms on the table, either side of your body, and you tense. If he started thrusting, it would fuck you up. 

“Good,” you say, nodding. “Big, but good.”

“Knew you could take it. 'm gonna fuck you now. Stop me if you need to," he murmurs. You can take it.

"I can take it," you nod. He smiles, kissing you once, then twice.

You squeak as Yunho begins fucking you properly, ploughing into you hard and fast, moving with need and instinct rather than reason. 

The table shakes with his heavy thrusts, pistoning into you so hard it makes you dizzy. You’re surprised you can take him like this, able to feel every inch of him when he’s seated inside, pressing deliciously on your walls. 

Yunho ruts into you like an animal, unfortunately one with a very big cock as he struggles to keep every inch buried inside you. He wasn’t lying about not pulling out, as he refused to do so even when thrusting. You had no room to breathe, no chance for air, as he fucked into you repeatedly while trying to go deeper. 

You’re at a loss for words, lips parted, eyes following his expression and movements. He’s desperate in his own way, obviously holding back, though you don’t know from what. You consider encouraging him to let go—until he groans loudly and snaps his hips, stealing the breath from your lungs. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. So fucking…need you to hold still for me and take it,” he breathes. "Hold still. A-Almost done, fuck, keep taking it so good for me."

You do as he asks without question, clinging to his shoulders, nose to nose with Jeong Yunho as he forces his cock as far as it can go in your body and begins to pump a thin condom full of cum that should be you. 

Yunho takes a few moments to breathe, arms shaking where he holds himself up on the table. You run a hand through his damp hair, watching as he moans softly and leans into your touch. 

“You okay?” you giggle. He nods, tilting his head to kiss your palm. 

“Just…You’re so fucking perfect. Want more of you if you’ll let me, wanna make you feel good every day," he says.

You blink at the surprising tenderness of his words, feeling they were more than sex related. You wanted to ask questions, but right now, you were both sticky with sweat and fucked out on a library table that would need to be wiped down with holy water. 

You separated, which left you shuddering from the sudden cold emptiness inside of you. Yunho exhaled sharply, waiting a few moments before removing the condom and tying it off. 

You both cleaned up and fixed your clothes as best you could—though you stuffed your panties in your bag because the sticky wetness was a little much. 

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, making sure your skirt is covering your ass. “You know. To clean up.”

Yunho smiles, which makes you smile, and then you’re blushing and cursing at yourself. He nods and brushes your cheek with his knuckle. 

“Sounds good,” he hums. You beam and gesture for him to follow you. Yunho watches as you collect your things with shaky legs, smiling to himself. 

You were so damn pretty. Intelligent. He’d noticed right away that you were someone he was going to want. 

He grabbed his own bag and walked past the table, pausing as he stepped on something. 

The sucker. 

You crinkle your nose when you notice it, too. 

“Guess we need to throw that away,” you mumble. He nods, bending down and picking it up. He holds it in his hand for a few seconds. 

What a good idea it had been. 

He slips it into his pocket, for the memories. 

Memories like, your name. Your favorite color. That skirt you wore on your first day. Apartment 2B, where you lived. You like the right side of the bed, don’t you? Yunho likes the left side. 

The last man you slept with—11 months, 1 week, and 4 days ago.

Yunho hated that one.

You had waffles for breakfast this morning. You usually have oatmeal. You sleep with a nightlight on.

You’re afraid of the dark.

“You coming?” you ask with a shy smile, pausing at the door. Yunho looks up. You didn’t see him slip the sucker in his pocket. You never notice things like that. 

“Yeah,” he says. He follows you out the door and waits for you to lock up. Then, without thinking too much of it, he takes your hand. You don’t pull away. Your hand is small compared to his, and he squeezes it. You squeeze back. 

You like hot showers.

You sound so pretty when you moan, especially when you think you’re alone. 

Your bathroom window is never locked.

You're never alone.

Yunho has a good memory when it comes to you.

[deliwrites]

ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖 // Baby Saja

// DATE // 23rd of June 2025 -> 26th of June 2025 // WORDS // 16.7k+ // SUMMARY // Reader is a member of Huntr/x, Rumi's twin sister to be precise. Y/n doesn't want to hide who she is anymore. Wanting to prove to Rumi that Mira and Zoey will trust them, she shares what she is knowing Rumi will back her up. Only they don't trust her and Rumi sends her to her death or so she thought, now it's time for revenge.

- Everything below this until the gif can be considered as spoilers. Be surprised and skip straight to the story or read the rest in this section at your own risk. MDNI! PS. This whole story is a spoiler for the movie if you have not seen it yet! -

// PAIRING // Baby Saja x femHuntrix!reader, Rumi x Jinu, Zoey x Mystery, Romance x Mira x Abby // WARNING // angst, fluff, (soul)mates, explicit smut, again, minor do not interact with this post, dom!baby/sub!reader, p in v, unprotected sx(wrap it before you tap it please), fingering, oral fem receiving, praise kink, biting, mating, possessive behavior, (I think it is) slight humiliation kink

// Main Story // Bonus Chapters //

“Rumi?” I start as I pull on the costume for the Golden promo with her. Did she release Golden maybe a bit early. Most definitely but I will always support her decisions.

“Yeah?”

“I want to tell them,” my voice is quiet, a little afraid of what her reaction will be.

“Y/n, Celine told us to wait,” she almost hisses, fear clear on her face.

“I know, I know,” pulling on the tight white shorts. “But they know us, they know were not like the other demons. Hell, all the other ones are ugly,” Rumi chuckles at that, shaking her head.

“That’s true, but I still think we shouldn’t tell them.”

“Okay, what if only I tell them about me. You don’t have to get involved. I’ll prove to you that they’ll accept us and then you can tell them too!” I tell her with full confidence. No doubt in my mind.

“Okay, I’ll back you up,” I squeal as I pull her into a tight hug.

“Couch! Couch! Couch! Couch!” I hear Mira and Zoey chant as they shuffle their way to the couch arms filled with snacks. Dropping the snacks on the white fluffy couch. Dropping right next to snacks.

“Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff,” Zoey sighs.

“So relaxing,” Mira murmurs sinking into the couch.

“Hey. Have a good break?” Rumi asks appearing behind the two.

“Huh?” Mira looks at her bewilders. “What? No. We literally just sat down!” chuckling I walk around the couch and take a seat on the coffee table.

“Why are you two in your new costumes?” Zoey asks as both sit up, eyes shifting between the two of us.

“Rumi, you didn’t,” both Mira and Zoey turn to Rumi, knowing if it would be either of us it would be Rumi. “Did you announce the new single?” Rumi's only response is a wide grin.

“The promo starts tomorrow- Tonight?”

“Tonight?” Mira and Zoey say in surprise. “Rumi, no! No!” the two start to whine playfully with a sense of true disappointment lacing their voices.

“No!” I hand Zoey her costume while Rumi hands Mira hers.

“But before we leave,” I begin, as the two of them begrudgingly start pulling on the costumes. Their eyes going to me as they keep getting dressed. Not bothered at all about changing in front of us. “I have something to share,” my voice goes from excited to nervous. My eyes flickering between all three. “It’s hard for me, but I don’t think I can hide it for much longer,” I stare down at my shaking hands. Zoey takes one of my hands, squeezing in reassurance.

“We will always be here for you,” she says, a gentle smile gracing her face.

“Well, I-” shaking off the jacket from my costume. The patterns slowly coming into view, drawing gasps from Mira and Zoey. Who pulls away her hand. Both of them drawing their weapons making me jump back standing up at the other end of the coffee table. My heart beating faster than it already did.

“You’re a demon,” Mira’s voice is angry as she spits the words out like she’s disgusted by the sight of me.

“I thought you would-” my voice is shaky and quiet as I stare in disbelief. “Rumi…” my eyes lock on my sisters, a desperate call for help. Zoey and Mira turn to Rumi with a hint of betrayal in their eyes.

“Did you know?” Zoey asks Rumi threateningly. A tone Zoey has never used against us before.

“No,” Rumi’s voice is cold. Detached. But her eyes burn. Drawing her own weapon, pointing the long end of the blade at me as she jumps over the couch. “I can’t believe you would betray us like this,” it’s like she’s saying it to herself for betraying her sister like this. With no other options, she steps up onto the coffee table - like it’s a stage. Like this moment has been building since the day we were born. Driving the blade through my chest. Tears in both our eyes as I shudder. The pain from the tear in my chest making me scream silently and then I implode, collapsing inward in a burst of magenta smoke - silent and final.

I didn’t die like I expected. Instead I found myself leaning on my knees, crying into my arms in front of Gwi ma. The flame entity laughing at my despair.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n,” he tsk’ed like he was disappointed to see me. “Guess you should have kept it hidden,” he laughs again deep and evil. “Now you’re my demon!” his voice booms across the crowd of demons who start laughing with their king. The events of tonight start playing over and over in my head loud, feeling like it gets louder and louder. I had no control over it. I couldn't stop them, couldn't dampen them. My hands cover my ears but it doesn't change anything.

I don’t really notice until I open my eyes again. The laughter has died down after I had been moved by Gwi ma, is my guess, to just beyond the crowd of demons.

I tried walking away but kept being dragged back. Making me sigh and stay at the edge of where I was apparently allowed to be. I could barely see any of the other demons through the smoke and deemed myself alone enough. If this was all the space I was allowed to have now, I would take it. Sinking to the lava rock ground. I pull my knees up to my chest. Wrapping my arms around them.

The ground wasn't comfortable. Far from it. But sitting was better than to stay standing. The moment I thought everything settled the voices came back louder than ever before, making me bury my face in my arms.

“Did you know?” “No.” “Okay, I’ll back you up” “I can’t believe you would lie to us like this.”

The voices sounded like screaming, ringing in my ears. Tears running down my face again filled with the pain of betrayal. The feeling of her sword driving into my chest solidified the feeling of betrayal. If there was someone I thought I could trust it would be Rumi.

I don't know how long he tortured me for like this. Making it go silent, giving me a false sense of control before returning it in full. But it feels like an eternity.

Little did I know I was being observed by a group of 400 year old demons who looked awfully human compared to the others. Nor did I notice when one of them approached me. First the male just sat beside me, keeping a bit of a distance. Almost like he didn’t want to startle me.

It was like his calm aura surrounded me, softening the voices that were screaming at me. Blinking away my tears in confusion. Looking right, then left. Finding him sat there. Leaning back on his hands, left knee up, his right leg stretched out.

I couldn't stop my brows from furrowing. Shuffling a little further away from the male. Demons are bad. They can’t be trusted. I tell myself, my gaze falling onto my own patterns. Right, I am one. The patterns hadn’t spread this far before I was sent here. Now I looked like a full demon, even if I knew I was only half a demon. My hands turning into fists realizing I would be stuck here forever.

I didn't acknowledge him. Turning away from him. But it felt like he was too far away. Shaking my head I tried to ignore it. Though it didn't take long for me to break the silence we sat in.

“Why are you here?” I dare to ask. Hating myself for going against everything I believed in.

He doesn't say anything making me sigh. Turning back to him my body relaxes, just a bit as the distance becomes smaller. Loosening the stiffness in my legs. Not understanding why I’m suddenly feeling relaxed, I continue. “Here to mock me? 1 huntress down 3 to go.”

“No.”

It’s short. Stopping me from continuing. I look at him, eyes wide. Taking in his pale purple skin, bright golden eyes, blue hair, traditional black Korean attire. He didn’t look at me. Instead staring off into the distance, not that there was much to see. The area mostly covered in smoke.

“I’m here in case you need someone who understands-”

“Understand? You’re a demon, you feel no emotions! How could you possibly understand?”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he stays calm even after my accusation, like he was expecting me to react this way. “We feel double that what humans feel. We feel extremely. It might shock you, but Gwi Ma keeps us pushed to the edge, so far into madness that we seem numb. But we do feel...” his voice is gentle as he speaks, shifting his gaze away from the smoke, to me. His golden eyes drawing me in.

“What do you feel now?” I ask cautiously curious. Shifting to sit on my side, leaning on my hands - closer to him.

“Sadness,” he confesses. I sense no lies in his eyes. “Seeing my m- you like this, it hurts.”

“You’re what?” he closes his eyes, grunting in annoyance at himself for miss speaking. He doesn't answer, instead he disappears. Immediately Gwi ma's power returns in full force. Falling to my side, my hands cradle my face. Eyes shut tight. My screams are silent at the pain the events cause me.

It feels like I'm in pain for days. My throat hoarse from my crying. I open my eyes suddenly. An unexpected calm falling over me again. He's stood over me this time. I can't read his expression.

I'm not sure what to say, or if I should even say something. Last time he disappeared on me. My eyes follow him as he returns to sit in the same spot as he did before.

"I guess it's in our best interest if I just tell you," he sighs, not facing me just yet. I find the strength in my arms to push myself in a sitting position. Subconsciously dragging myself closer to him. “Give me your hand,” I hesitate a little. Not sure if I should trust him even though he had revealed something I never knew about demons. Something I don’t think a demon would easily confess to, either. His gaze meets mine as I shuffle closer. Carefully placing my hand left hand in his right hand.

A slow ripple spills out from our connected palms. Like black stardust unfurling beneath our skin, soft and shivering. Leaving goosebumps in its wake. Light and shadow dancing like twin spirals up our arms. Disappearing into our chests where our hearts sit. Creating a magnetic pull. A sudden blast surged outward like an orb tearing through the smoke around us. My head seamed to clear only one word occupying my mind.

“Baby.”

“That’s me,” a gentle smile played on his lips. “And you, Y/n, are my mate.”

“Mate?” I repeat it, stunned, like saying it out loud might make it make sense. For years I was told demons didn’t have feelings, that they were all bad, that all should be killed. And now I was mated to one?

But I had to be honest. I didn't mind. He made me feel calm. I don't think I've ever felt this calm. Always on edge. Scared to reveal my secret. Regretting that I shared my secret. I was pretty much powered by anxiety.

“Yes, I understand it’s hard to believe-”

“Oh, no, I believe it’s just… unexpected?” he chuckles soft and gentle making a blush decorate my cheeks. I started to make sense the longer I looked at him. Really took him in. He was my complete opposite, perfect to soothe my racing thoughts.

“Cute,” he says squeezing my hand which he still held.

“Also, I thought all demons were supposed to be ugly,” the bluntness of the comment gets him to full on laugh, the sound low, warming up my chest. I crawl closer without thinking, like the space between us suddenly became unbearable. Now that I know we’re mates, distance feels wrong.

“We are sad to have to share this news on the day of our new singles release,” Rumi tells the host. “But Y/n has left Huntrix.”

“Oh no, what happened?” the host asks with concern, genuine curiosity behind her words.

“We don’t know, it was unexpected,” Mira says, there is sadness in her normally stoic voice.

“She decided she didn’t want to do this anymore,” Zoey adds to the lie.

“We couldn’t convince her to stay.”

“She is your sister, I suppose you’re still in contact with her at least?” the host asks making Rumi’s hard hammer in her chest, the face of her sister silently screaming as she killed her.

“Ah, no,” Rumi keeps it short.

“Golden is the last song Y/n will be featured on from now on,” Zoey quickly takes the attention away from Rumi.

“We will be going on hiatus for a little while to get used to the loss of our member.”

"So, do you..." I start, eyes up at the sky. Baby and I laid on the ground, I used his stomach as a pillow. Forced to even, he would not let me rest my head on the lava rock surface.

"Do I what?" he asks while we watch souls dance above us. None of them flying in the direction of Gwi ma, thankfully.

"Do you get to go up there?" my voice soft, afraid of the answer. He pauses, stilling. Turning my head I look at him. He has his head propped up by his arms. I can just see his golden eyes. Watching them shift ... anxiously?

"No," he finally says. "I'm glad for it," he adds softly. Turning on my side, I can tell he doesn't want to share just yet. So I reassure him in the only way I can think of. Sitting up, I place a gentle peck on his dark lips. Smiling at the way his eyes widen just slightly at my action.

That's not the last peck we share. Far from it. I can't stop stealing them. He doesn't give me them nearly as often, but I know that every time he does, it's sincere.

He lingers, holding on to me like I could slip from his fingers any moment. Whenever we meet his friends there's always this possessive arm around my waist. Not that I mind.

I still remember the first time he introduced us. "Y/n," Baby starts, his arm not leaving my waist. Sending pointed looks at the four demons before me. "These are Jinu, Mystery, Abby and Romance," gesturing from a black haired, smirk wearing one, to a grey haired, not looking at me - I think. To a taller pink haired one who wore a smug look, to the last one. Another pink haired one, this time long flowing locks.

This hand had dared to step forward. Taking my hand swiftly pecking my knuckles before he got smacked in the face by Baby. Who pulled me behind him. Growling possessively.

Laughter bursting within the group and I wouldn't lie. I couldn't stop myself from giggling either.

That moment was pretty much the start of my friendship with the group. There was obviously not a lot to do. But when they showed me they could pretty much create things out of thin air. I asked them if they ever thought of creating game pieces.

Which they hadn't, like how.

In the end they had created game pieces for games out of their time, but I wanted to play something newer. Like UNO. When I asked if they knew what it was, Baby sent an image in my head of something. Confusing me to the point I looked at him like he had just sent me a unsolicited dick pic.

"How did you do that?" I ask after recovering from the random image.

"We're mates," is his simple answer. I arch my brow like, 'okay, so now I'm supposed to understand how that works'. He chuckles at my expression, pecking my cheek. "I just think of what I want to show you, and I sent it to you."

"Oh, okay, I wanna try," instantly thinking of the UNO game. Looking at him wide eyed like that will do it. "Do you see it?" he shakes his head. Thinking... louder? "Am I doing it?" my voice stressed, eyes closed.

"Uhm, no, but you do look constipated," I gasp, opening my eyes at his words in offence. Smacking his chest playfully as the others laugh their asses off. With that I gave up on the whole image sending for a while.

- Spice below, skip to next image divider if you do not want to read it -

While we spend most of our time all together, I did steal Baby from them a lot. Wanting to spend time with him one on one. Get to know him more and more.

He wasn't much of a talker, so it was tough at times. It seemed enough time had past as I could go further than before. Allowing for us to have a private space between a few rocks.

Never the comfortable place of course. Pressing my lips against him hungrily. Sat on the ground, his back against a rock, a tight grip on my hips where I sat in his lap. Keeping me from moving them against him.

"Why are you holding back?" I ask breathless when I pull away. I stare at him, eyes shifting from one to the other. Anxiety rolling over me like a realization. "Do you not-"

"Of course not," his voice gentle as he cups my cheeks, staring loving into my soul. "I just don't want to loose control," I nod, not entirely believing him, my gaze falling from his. "Hey, listen to me," he caresses my cheeks so gentle, getting me to look back up. "If you think you need to pleasure me to make sure I love you," my eyes widen at the fact he can read me so well. "You don't," he waits till I nod. "But," he smirks. "If it's pleasure you want, I'll be happy to give it to you," my cheeks darken at his words. Warmth spreading to more places than one.

To the point I can't stop myself from nodding eagerly. Anxiety, completely forgotten.

"Okay, darling," he pecks my lips. "Turn around," I follow his command like a life line. Leaning my back against him, his arms circling my waist. "Knees up, either side of mine."

Again, like an obedient pet, I do as he asks. Shaking with anticipation. His left hand, caresses the bare skin of waist. Owning just my Golden costume in this realm. Other hand smoothly slipping under the waist band of my shorts. Gasping when his fingers find my heat.

"So wet already," his voice is a sin, whispering in my ear. I can feel his smug gaze on the side of my head. I enjoy it. Just two of his finger play with the slick that gather on my outer lips.

"Please," I'm not even sure I said anything with how soft I spoke. But he heard, loud and clear. Chuckling evilly.

"What do you want, darling?" he teases, sliding his finger tip over my slit, but not parting them. I bite my bottom lip, cheeks red with embarrassment. I felt so filthy having to say it out loud, but I knew I had to. If I didn't he would just tease me for all of eternity. He lays a gentle peck on my neck as if to encourage me, putting light pressure where my lips cover my clit with his fingers.

A moan like gasp and I finally utter. "Touch me."

"Hmm, not precise enough," just those words have me whining in desperation. "But, I'll let you have it this time."

Before I can exhale in relief he parts my lips. Slipping a single finger straight in. Thumb landing on my clit, a shaky moan escaping me instead. Instinctively my legs start to close around his hand.

"Hold them open for me," with shaky hands I hold my thighs open. Breathing heavily at the slow pace his fingers are using. A second had joined inside me, but it wasn't enough.

"F-faster," I beg, head rolling onto his shoulder. A dark chuckle and a third finger gets added. Along with a faster pace. I'm gasping like I can't get enough of this feeling. I'm surprised that his sharp claw like nails don't seem to scratch me, but I'm not complaining.

Moaning at the way his fingers curl inside me, stretch me open. Thumb rubbing smooth circles on my clit. My ears pick up his own grunting. Are my feelings causing him to enjoy it just as much as I am?

The hand that held a grip on my waist, moves up. Slipping under my top. Fingers finding my pebbled buds, squeezing, first testing the waters. The action causing me to subconsciously squeeze around the finger inside me.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" I'm not even sure what exactly I'm nodding to, but I do it anyways. Reaching the edge quicker with every squeeze, every thrust of his fingers. "Go on darling," he whispers in my ear, pointy tongue flicking against my jaw teasingly. "Cum for me."

I do, shuddering franticly as my orgasm rolls over me. Taking over my entire body as he keeps the movements up until my hips move in shocks against the touch. Suddenly overstimulated, breathing heavily.

"Good girl."

Curiosity strikes Abby one random day, while we're playing games again.

"By the way, how did you get here?" it's so out of the blue. Everyone's eyes shooting at him. Baby and Jinu glaring at him like a warning. "What? I'm curious."

Baby tells me I should not feel forced to tell them, his glare not leaving Abby. I place my hand on his thigh, reassuring him that its okay.

After explaining it is when the revenge plan start brewing to life. I don't think I've ever liked feeling this evil until now.

There once was a mighty demon king Stop me if you’ve heard this one before He was in total control He feasted on souls The world trembled when he roared But then some Hunters sang some songs Now all he does is starve Can’t get at the souls, and his flame grows cold Just a whisper in the dark And will he let the fire go out? Is this the end of him now? Dying king with a crumbling crown? Will he let the fire go out?

“I let you keep that voice, Jinu,” Gwi ma says as Jinu approached him with his song. “And you dare to mock me with it?” I stayed near Baby as we slowly followed Jinu closer to Gwi ma.

“I’m not here to mock you. I’m here to help you,” Jinu tells Gwi ma. “It’s time for a new strategy,” the six of us fly up the long staircase. Them in their traditional attire, me still in my Golden promo costume. Safe for the jacket. “We fight the Hunters where they least expect it. Go after the very thing that powers the Honmoon. The fans.”

“A demon boy band?” Gwi ma questions. Bursting out laughing, the crowd following awkwardly. “What makes you think that could work?” Transforming just enough to make them look more human.

“I can help,” I speak up, appearing from behind Baby. “I am from that world, I know how it works. I can be their manager. I won’t be seen. I can make sure they become big.”

“You?” Gwi ma chuckles evilly. “What makes you think I’ll trust you.”

“They betrayed me,” I tell him. “I might not be doing it for you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t pull through if it gives them what they deserve for stabbing me, quite literally.”

“Hmm, alright," he says. "But, that can't just be it, what is it the rest of you expect out of this?" he hums, impatiently waiting for an answer.

"Our memories from before this life, erased," Jinu speaks for them.

“Okay! I have planned for your first performance to be just around the corner from here,” I tell the five as we walk down the alley. Romance, Abby and Mystery walk in front, Jinu following behind them. While I walk with Baby, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist, not that I minded. I wore one of Baby’s sweaters, and a cap to hopefully hide my appearance enough. “You guys know the song, I’ll make sure to make it go viral. Flyers have been handed out and people have already started gathering,” I had my phone out while Baby guides me safely. Making my twirl suddenly before holding me in front of him.

“uh… watch yourself,” I hear Jinu speak to someone. Baby’s hold on me leaving me unable to check to who. But as we walk away I recognize who.

“Watch my… Watch yourself!” Rumi. Looking up at Baby he turns me to face him and places a gentle peck on my lips. As if saying ‘I got you’. Returning at his side we continue walking to our destination. “Oh, Jinu! After the performance don’t forget to announce that you’ll be at everyone’s favorite variety show.”

“Yes, I’ll remember,” I peck Baby on the cheek and let them do their thing. Staying close and keeping my eye out for Rumi, Mira or Zoey. I film their performance. Posting it on social media, creating edits, shorts, posting a prerecorded video of a dance practice I had them do. Watching as the numbers went up and up. The Saja Boys getting more popular by the minute.

Looking at the crowd I could see how much they were enjoying the Saja Boys. The moment they started it had drawn even more people to come check them out.

I couldn’t stop myself from clapping with the crowd when they were done with their performance. Giving Jinu a pointed look as I pulled up the slide for on the screen behind them that showed the variety show they would be at tonight. Jinu first wiped his shoulder clean of nonexistent dust while staring at Rumi who stood scarily close to me.

I thought I had paid enough attention. I catch Baby’s eyes who with just a flick of his eyes moved me away where our eyes connect again. A sigh of relief leaving my body while he sends a wink which has the crowd around me going wild some more. That’s my man, I think I hear a chuckle in my head as I return my gaze to his where he smirks his lips forming one word. Mine.

“That’s it for now. See you tonight on everyone’s favorite variety show,” selecting the slide on my phone it appears behind them as Jinu speaks. “Saja Boys love you!” posing for just a second longer before disappearing with the magenta smoke. A second later, a hand slips into mine before I’m ingulfed in that same magenta smoke. The smoke dissipating around us when we appear in the apartment I got the band.

“You guys did so good!” I clap with excitement, pulling my phone out as I sit down with Baby like a magnetic pull to always be close to him. Baby wraps an arm around my shoulder pulling me closer to him.

“Of course,” Abby smirks. “We’re charming,” as if to prove his point he flexes his arms making me roll my eyes.

“Barely,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him. “The fans like you because 1, the song is catchy, you’re welcome by the way. 2, you’re hot, we’ll figure out if you’re charming on that variety show. And 3, you guys dance really well,” Abby sticks his tongue out right back at me. Quick learner, I chuckle. “Anyways, we have a bit of time before the variety show-” I don’t even get to finish before four of them literally poof out of existence. “Wha-”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back,” Baby speaks up besides me. Shifting my gaze to him, his now nearly unnatural blue eyes half lidded. Taking my phone from me, I try to protest, but he just tsks, like I’m a child testing limits. “No phone for you,” he says, voice stern making me shiver. “You have to be able to get out of sight from the Huntrix. Without me.”

“But you can do it,” I pout and he sighs, getting up from the couch, pulling me with him. Then he smirks, just a little. That smug, knowing tilt of his mouth that makes me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

“You get a kiss for every step further you are able to make,” he knows that will make me comply. He’s not shy about kissing me, but it’s not nearly as often as I wish it was. So if this is how I can get it, I’ll take it.

“Okay, okay,” I nod vigorously. “How do we start,” I had told him that I obviously knew how to fight, but I didn’t know how to teleport like they can. Not like I could learn that from Celine. All she ever did was told us to hide our patterns. No one could know what we were.

“It’s a lot about visualizing where you want to go,” his voice calm as he starts to explain. Giving me examples by teleporting around the room as he does. “Now you try, don’t start off difficult. From where you stand, try to go in front of the coffee table.”

“And if I do it,” a little smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I get a kiss, right?”

“Yes,” he chuckles deeply. “If you can do it, you get a kiss,” he nods. “More if you behave and make it to me,” excitement fills up my body in more ways than one, the smirk on his lips not helping in stopping the heat from forming between my legs. Nodding I focus on the rug under the coffee table. Visualizing the edge where I want to go. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Hoping that I did it when I open my eyes again.

Nothing.

I was still stood in the same place. “Ugh,” I shake my head. “Okay, one more,” Closing my eyes again. I visualize once more. Maybe it needs to be more detailed. Edge of the rug. The rug is red, the border fluffy, the rectangle table white marble. That is where I want to go. Opening my eyes once more. Nothing. “I can’t do it, if I can’t even get 30cm further how am I meant to get to yo-u,” in the blink of an eye I’m in front of him. Eyes wide in confusion and surprise. A smirk plays on his lips as he leans down and pecks my lips.

Recovering from my initial shock, I shake my head before crossing my arms.

“Nah ah, you said I would get more if I could make it to you.”

“That’s true,” his voice deeper than before. His strong hands reach my hips. Placing a nearly bruising grip on them, my knees weakening. Reaching for him, I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer. Our lips connect, gentler than I expected. But I turn the kiss hungry within seconds. Tracing my tongue over his lips asking for entrance, which he gives only to quickly over power it. Showing me who’s boss, not that anyone would ever question that. He pulls away making me whine. I don’t let go and neither does he. “I will let you have this, cause you have no idea how much I need you, but we will continue practicing after this,” the whine turns into a moan at his confession. He trails kissing down my jaw to my neck, making me bend over backwards.

- Spice below, skip to next image divider if you do not want to read it -

His hands slide up, under his sweater over my bare stomach. Lifting the sweater as he goes, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Pulling back long enough to throw the sweater away before lifting me up. A squeak leaving my lips, returning my hold around his neck tighter as he moves us to the bedroom. I kiss and bite his neck as well as I can with his outfit still on. Trying to get his sweater off him is a struggle. I only manage it because he tosses me onto the bed and I yank it off mid fall.

He at least helps me by taking off his blouse himself, crawling over me right after. Our lips connecting in a heated kiss. My hands roam his toned chest, nails scraping his skin with need. His right hand cupping my face while the other held him up right. His sharp teeth tugging at my bottom lip, pulling away with a grin.

“So needy,” his voice deep, eyes flashing golden. A needy whimper leaves my lips. Watching him back up, just enough to unzip my shorts. Tapping my ass to make me lift off the bed, I quickly do as he asks. Sliding it sensually slow down my thighs, his own nails trailing after the fabric. Every inch they drag lower sends another jolt up my spine.

I want him so desperately at this point I want to drag him back up to me. I don’t even care that he’s still half dressed. I just need him, right now!

Shorts finally gone, abandoned on the floor. He holds my ankles, pecking both. With a strong grip his hands slide back up, followed by more pecks. Turning into bites, along with creating hickeys on my thighs. Marking me his. I loved it.

The moment his head is within my reach I try to pull him back up, but he denies me. An impatient whine leaving my lips though it quickly turns into a gasp when he surprises me by blowing air on my damp panties. Swiftly sliding the fabric to the side, the cold air of the room momentarily startling me. Though my lips are quickly engulfed with his. Legs almost instantly turning to jelly.

Pushing one thigh up, he spreads my legs, giving him more room to explore. My breathing turning into desperate gasps. Sucking on my clit like it’s a life line, plunging his tongue so far inside me it seems impossible. Leaning up on my weak trembling arms, I look at his head between my legs. His eyes open shortly too look me in the eyes. His eyes golden, his patterns showing. He’s half shifted. It all made sense now. He had shown me before that his tongue was longer when in demon form, teasing me with it. This was just half of what it could be and this was already sending me to heaven.

I couldn’t hold myself up anymore, falling back down with a heavenly moan. I could feel that he was enjoying this just as much as I was, being this close allowing me to feel his emotions just like he did mine. My hands find his hair, gripping tight on the strands. Drawing a groan from him, the vibrations of his voice only getting me closer to my release.

“So close,” my voice soft, laced with desperation. But I shouldn’t have said anything. The second the words leave my lips, his leave my heat. A wet smirk curls on his lips, glistening and smug.

“Didn’t think I was gonna let you cum that easy, now did you?” he arches a brow, the wicked look in his eyes making my body ache even more. He licks his lips, groaning at the taste of me. In an instantly his completely naked before me, his patterns beautifully on display. My denied orgasm forgotten, I find the strength to get up. On my knees in front of him, my lips just able to reach his strong collar bones.

I start there, biting hard. I can tell he enjoys it, his eyes stay on me watching me as I claim his body just like he did mine. Smirking my way down, leaving hickeys and indents of my teeth. Marks that say mine in every shade of red. Following one line of his patterns, all the way down the length of his chest. Though he doesn’t allow me to reach my destination.

With a rough push, I’m on my back once more. Somehow, while falling back he was able to remove both my bra and my panties. Demon magic, I'm sure. My legs pulled up into the air, a single hand holding them together against his shoulder.

“Think you’re ready for me?” It’s like his voice got even deeper, like he was growling while talking. That same smug smirk curves his lips as he teases me, pressing the tip between my thighs. My eyes widen the further he pushes, realizing just how big he actually was.

While I’m terrified, I don't control my head as it nods repeatedly with need.

Leaning down he folds me in half, the stretch in my muscles an ache I crave. My legs pushed up, pressed tight on either side of my head. “Use your words, darling,” he whispers, face to face now. His breath brushes my lips, voice thick with command and something darker. The tone betraying just how close he is to loosing it all.

“Please, please, please,” the words are breathless. The pressure on my chest makes it hard to breathe, but not enough to stop the begging. “Fuck me,” it’s rough, more like a demand. Desperate to get him inside me. Now!

He lets out a low, wicked chuckle. “Good girl,” instantly thrusting all the way in. The stretch punches a high-pitched gasp out of me, more squeak than moan, and I clamp down around him without meaning to. My body’s trying to slow him down, fighting the pace I just begged for. All air leaves my lungs when he bottoms out. It feels so good I could cry.

“Sooo… gooooood…” the words slur right out of me, brain to far gone to care what I say anymore. A hitched gasp slips past my parted lips as I feel him pull back. Not all the way, but enough to start making me feel empty. His lips join mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss. His kiss is slow, loving, completely at odds with the way he’s wrecking me. Caressing me with love as he slowly starts to thrust back in. Keeping the pace slow but deep while I gasp into kiss. Barely able to kiss him back.

To the point I just give up, wrapping my arms around his neck. Pulling him impossibly closer. The ache in my legs starting to make them tremble, but I don’t care. I need him, crave him. The angle of our position getting me closer to edge with every thrust. My entire body shivering from the intensity.

“You’re doing so good,” his voice cuts through the haze, sudden enough to startle me. Though I relax almost instantly. “Just a little longer,” his right hand caressing my trembling leg, seemingly soothing the ache. Reaching between us in the impossibly small space between us. Pinching my clit between two fingers making me spasm and squeeze around his thick length. “Cum for me,” it’s like a command that breaks the dam. Squeezing his shoulders once before my arms go lacks at the feeling of ecstasy.

Both his arms secure around me as he thrusts a few more times. He moves my head to the side, just enough to give him space. With a low groan, which is quickly muffled by my skin, he cums inside me. A gentle peck where my neck meets my shoulder. Then a scream leaves my lungs when his teeth tear my skin.

The same black stardust seems to ripple over us, starting from where he just bit me. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed. I freeze up. A gentle lick over the wound, then a peck before his eyes come into view.

“Now,” he whispers. “You’re completely mine,” and I feel it. I feel him, not just physically. Our souls completely connected.

Slowly the shock fades, as does the pain. He starts to pull away, but I don’t want him to. Letting him leave just enough space for me to lower my legs before I pull him right back.

Connecting our lips, exploding with emotions. So much raw emotion of both him and me.

We had just finished showering, but he had been done getting dressed quicker. Pecking my lips as he left the room. A lingering feeling of adoration from him warming my chest.

“Wow, you look thoroughly fucked,” Mystery points out the obvious when I enter the living room again after what had just transpired in the bedroom. I hadn’t tried to hide the marks Baby had left on me, but they were relatively hidden. But I guess not as hidden as they had seemed when I looked in the mirror.

An instant flare of anger washes over me. But it’s not mine.

“Watch it,” Baby hisses at his friend. I just stick my tongue out at Mystery and plop myself down on Baby’s lap, who instantly wraps a possessive arm around my waist. I peck his cheek before turning my attention to the rest of the boys.

“Okay, but, we should actually get going,” I say while I look at the time on my phone, now that I have it again. “We don’t wanna be la-”

Before I can finish, magenta smoke slowly reveals we arrived at the studio.

“Ah! Saja Boys!” we get greeted, the second we get spotted. In panic I touch my head, glad to find the cap there. My eyes meet Baby’s, he’s already staring, handing me tinted glasses. Which I quickly put on.

They get called on stage not long after our arrival. The studio filled to the brim with press and new fans. I stay on the side, out of sight of the crowd. Instead focusing on my phone where I check their social media and their growing popularity.

Unbeknownst to me, three pairs of familiar eyes had spotted me. Unsure and stunned all the same. I should not be there and yet I was.

“It’s a dead heat between my handsome co-host and Baby Saja,” my attention drawn to the stage, at the mention of Baby. Surprised he’s so casually drinking hot sauce like it’s water. “Can our host catch up?”

“So spicy! So spicy!” the co-host utters, giving up.

“He can’t! Baby Saja is the winner!” the crowd cheers.

“Goo goo, ga ga,” Baby mocks, unable to stop me from giggling at the idiocy of it. Shaking my head.

“Hard to say goodbye when we’re having fun.”

“So hard. So hard,” to my shock I watch Jinu take the mic from the host. I’m about to scold him from the sideline when he speaks.

“Then why say goodbye when we have extra special guests coming up?”

“What is he doing?” I mutter. Little did I know that Rumi muttered those exact same words.

“Please welcome Huntrix!” stunned I follow the spotlights as it highlights the - now - trio. Shit.

“We just wanted to stop by and congratulate our hoobaes on their debut and-,” Rumi waves awkwardly, obviously caught off guard.

“And of course, Play Games with Us! Bring out the slides!” Jinu cuts her off. The other four grabbing the slide from my side of the stage.

“This is not a good idea,” I hiss at them. Baby just winks as a feeling of reassurance waves over me.

“Slide! Slide! Slide!” the crowd chants, I watch anxiously.

“Oh no. We couldn’t possibly,” Rumi tries to back out, to no avail of the crowd. Their chants changing to ‘In the balls!’. Which seems, you know, just a little in appropriate, but oh well… “Sure,” voice a little higher now. “For the fans.”

Though its immediately met with more regret. Their leather pants stopping them for a smooth slide. An ear-piercing sound echoing through the studio. Just like Baby I cover my ears, dampening the double effect of what this sound does to us.

Finally they land. “And Huntrix is in the balls!” I notice their eyes flash gold, smirks plastered on their faces before they mask it.

“Well, this was fun,” Rumi says awkwardly as the three of them exit the ball pit. Standing in line across from the boys.

With a hand on his chest. “It was truly an honor to share the stage with you,” Jinu says, the five of them bowing respectfully to the trio. I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle my chuckle at their faces.

“Oh no. The honor is ours,” they bow. They’ll do anything to keep the fans on their side it seems.

“No, it was ours.”

“It’s ours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.”

They all bow deeper and deeper. The boys quite literally folded in half in the end. Baby smirking through his legs at me, making me shake my head at them for the nth time.

Before the curtain is even fully closed, Baby grabs my by the waist, throwing me over his shoulder as they run out. Abby giving Romance a piggy back, just to rub it in the girls faces. Flicking my gaze to them, I see their anger growing.

“Where are we going?” I ask, not really able to do much, stuck in the tight grasp of Baby. Trying to peak around his head I see the bath house sign. “Why are we going to a bath house?”

I get an answer quick enough when I hear their collective voices. “Mens?”

“Wow. Did you really follow us in here?” Jinu says with fake surprise.

“I knew they would. That one’s always looking at me,” Abby says matter-of-factly.

“No we’re not,” Mira and Zoey say, obviously staring at Abby. Rumi ignores the comments completely. Her eyes finding mine where I’m stood next to Baby. A possessive and protective hand on my waist. He glares at them like they had personally hurt him.

I guess unintentionally they had, but without what they did. We wouldn’t have met.

“Y/n?” soft, filled with disbelief. Rumi’s words seem to shake Mira and Zoey out of their staring trance as they too turn to me.

“Told you,” Mira starts. “She’s just as bad as the rest of them,” Baby makes a threatening move, growling slightly. It’s enough to make them take a step back.

“I wasn’t,” I state calmly. Placing a hand on Baby’s shoulder to calm him and to tell him to trust me this time. “Not until you betrayed me that is,” I continue, sending a glare their way. “Especially you, Rumi. What a sister you are,” I shake my head with disappointment.

“So, now you’ve sent a demon boy band after us?” Zoey asks, surprised and offended at the same time. “To what? Steal our fans?”

“Yes,” the six of us state clearly, a smirk pulling at my lips. “When I came back to this plane, it was fun to see how many you had already lost. And all that because I “left”,” their eyes widen at my words. “Now we’re here for the rest of them.”

“You think we’re just going to let you steal our fans?” Rumi’s voice laced with anger. “You’re gonna have to fight us for them.”

“Yeah. Keep your hands off our Honmoon,” Zoey adds.

Jinu chuckles. “We’re not here to fight,” tears in the Honmoon appear in the baths. “They are,” demons rise from the tears.

“Water demons.”

“Oh great. My favorite.”

“Get rid of the Hunters,” Jinu says to the water demon closest to him. I can’t stop the spike of fear puncturing my heart as my eyes shift from him to the people I once called family. “Then you can eat all the souls you want,” Baby squeezes my waist, but it doesn’t sooth the pain in my chest.

With that said, the water demons start fighting. Romance, Mystery and Abby swiftly making their way to another exit. Baby starts pulling me, but I hesitate. While he’s obviously upset at what they had done to me. He understands what I’m going through at this very moment.

“Have fun,” Jinu smirks evilly, nearly slipping on a small pool of water on the tiles. Turning around he starting running towards the exit. I finally find my willpower back and start moving. Holding onto Baby’s hand tight. Letting him drag me through the door. Running through the sauna as Rumi follows us quickly. She manages to cut Jinu off from the group.

“He can handle himself,” Baby reassures me and finally we go up in smoke and appear in our apartment. Out of breath, I let myself fall on the couch. Soon joined by him. He picks me up bridal style. Sits down himself before placing me in his lap. Leaning me so my head is resting on his shoulder.

“I can’t- I-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” his voice is soft. Warmth blooms in my chest and again I’m reassured. He’s not mad at me. He knows I was meant to be one of the good guys. “You don’t have to talk.”

We stay like that, unbothered by the other three. Until Jinu returns, face laced with realization and confusion but before he can say anything. All six of us get pulled back into the demon plane by Gwi ma.

A single soul flies overhead, straight into Gwi ma’s flame.

“My Little Soda Pop,” Gwi ma… sings? “It’s catchy. Surprisingly, your plan is working,” he says to us as we get up off the ground. Standing before him.

“I know, and that soul is just a starter,” Jinu says, his expression changing to please Gwi ma. “So let me get back to work, and you’ll be feasting in no time.”

“Two of the Hunters bear my mark, one of which I now have control over,” if Gwi ma had eyes they would be on me now with how intense the air around me got. “The other I do not.”

“This is good,” Jinu says, taking the attention off me. “This means she has shame. I’ll find out what it is and we can use it to destroy her and the Hunters for good.”

“I’ve taught you well, Jinu,” with that Gwi ma lets us return to our apartment on the human plane.

“Okay, issue,” Jinu says, sitting on one of the arm chairs in the room. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Covering his face with his left hand.

“What is it?” Romance asks, confused. Finding himself a seat on the couch. Abby returning from the kitchen with a bottle of water. Sitting in the other arm chair. Mystery finding his spot between Romance and Baby. I stood by the large open windows which had a view of the city sky line. From here I could see the Huntrix tower, the logo lit up in the dark of the night, in the far distance. Leaning against the glass as I subconsciously rubbed the patterns on my arms.

“Is it because of the look on your face when you first came back?” Baby asks, though I know his eyes don’t leave my frame. Watching over me protectively but letting me keep the space I need right now.

“Yes,” Jinu sighs, taking his hand away from his face. “Rumi appears to be my mate,” my eyes focus on his reflection in the window. Silence engulfs the room, almost like time stands still. I don’t think anyone knows what to say with this new information. “But that doesn’t change anything,” he chuckles awkwardly.

It’s very divided. Baby and I sure as hell can’t say shit about it. Me, technically, being a huntress and us being mates. Having just completed said mating bond.

“We’re going to stick to the plan,” Jinu ends up deciding. “We have to,” the words are whispered. My brows furrow in confusion. He can’t just be talking about the revenge. Baby fills my head with images of what Gwi ma could do to us if we fail.

It’s early morning, I think I got maybe an hour of sleep before I woke up from my running thoughts. Baby was a deep sleeper, if he hadn’t been, I was sure he would have jumped awake at the same time I did. Sneaking out of his hold. I grab my phone from its charger.

3:36 am

Sighing I get up. Pulling Baby’s sweater over my head. The hem falling just mid my thighs. My sweater now, really. Exiting the room I head for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. Swiftly taking a sip.

“Ah,” I sigh, walking to the living room, I just sat down on the couch when Jinu suddenly appears in front of me. Making me jump, Jinu reacting the same at seeing me awake.

“What are you doing awake?” he whisper hisses at me.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I hiss right back. He sighs and takes the same seat as before. I relax back in my seat, pulling my legs on the couch beside me.

“Fine,” he sighs. Tiger comes up from the floor. First letting himself be pet by Jinu before circling the coffee table. Jumping on the couch next to me, resting his head on my thigh. Placing my hand on his big head, I start petting him. Purrs slowly rumbling from his chest. “I went to meet Rumi,” anxiety spikes my chest, my eyes meeting his instantly. “I know, I know,” he puts his hands up. “I just, I had to tell her.”

While my heart is still running like a marathon, I sigh. “I get it. Once you realize it’s hard to keep it from them. Baby showed me what it felt like for him when he found out,” I explain in understanding. Jinu sighs in relief at my words.

“Thank you,” it wasn’t often Jinu got sincere, so I knew this was real. Just by the tone in his voice. “She did not react well,” he adds. “I shouldn’t be surprised of course, but I had hope with the way you reacted to Baby.”

“You have to understand that the situations are different. I had just been banished by my own family. She’s still in hiding,” I try to reason with him. “If Mira and Zoey knew, she would be with Gwi ma just like me.”

“What exactly happened that day?” the question is cautious. Testing the waters carefully. "I know you told us in part, but..."

“I wanted to tell Mira and Zoey about my patterns,” I state, my voice void of emotion. “I didn’t want to hide anymore. Rumi didn’t want to. Which I understood, but she said she would back me up,” I glance at him before focusing my attention on Tiger as I continue. “They reacted by drawing their weapons on me,” I pause for a moment. Throat swelling up with emotion. Unable to stop the betrayal from taking over me. “Rumi was the one to send me to Gwi ma,” I croak out, my hand trembling as I continue to pet Tiger as a distraction. Taking a deep shuddering breath. Baby appeared behind me suddenly. His calm aura settling over me. Looking back, up at him, his gaze is focused on Jinu. Glaring at him.

“What are you doing?” he asks accusingly. His hands settle on my shoulders. Comforting me.

“It’s okay. I’m okay now,” I smile gently at him, squeezing one of his hands. “It’s not his fault really,” he doesn’t seem to fully believe me. Tiger had looked up, almost offended that I had stop petting him. Though this did give Baby the opportunity to sit down himself and hold me close.

“What happened then?”

“I may have asked what happened that day,” Jinu explains.

“And this became a topic, because?”

“He apparently met with Rumi,” I tell him. “Telling her about them being mates, and it did not go as he hoped,” Baby nods, waiting for more information.

“I also may have offered to let Rumi talk to Y/n,” Jinu confesses, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“WHAT!?” Baby and I say at the same time. Baby out of worry, me out of anxiety.

“Yeah, well,” Jinu sighs, struggling to find the right words. “I thought, since you’re sisters. And you being mated to Baby. You could maybe, I don’t know. Convince her it’s okay..?”

“You want my mate,” Baby’s voice is stern, threatening even. “ who got sent to Gwi ma by yours. To talk to Rumi?”

“I know, I know.”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Baby’s eyes turn golden. “Her anxiety just woke me up, I am de deepest sleeper you know this. I will not allow Rumi to meet with Y/n.”

The conversation ends there. The next few weeks a filled with award shows where either the Saja boys winning or Huntrix. All the while I see the secret longing looks Jinu sends Rumi, and Rumi tries to hide the new pull that the mating bond created.

It’s conflicting with everything.

I want Jinu to be happy, and I hate that I want Rumi to be happy too. Becoming Baby’s mate has made me so happy. While I still hear Gwi ma’s voice it’s not nearly as loud as it was before we completed the mating. It doesn’t rule over me. I wish that for Jinu. I know his past haunts him, more than he dares to show.

And while it obviously hurts to be betrayed by my sister, I still cared for her. Can I still go through with this?

“Let’s bring ‘em in,” Bobby’s voice announces as the doors to the signing open. Hiding in the crowd, I watch as the guys waddle in. “Hey, single file, no pushing.”

“And who should I make this out to?” Rumi asks, grabbing the stack of her posters, closer to herself.

“ 'To our biggest fans' ,” Jinu says, all of them casually revealing themselves. No longer hidden by the sleeping bags.

“It’s the Saja boys!” while everyone is focused on the boys, the frustration of the girls doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

“It is an honor!” Bobby regards them politely. “Table, now!”

“Joint signing!” while the room splits into two sides. I teleport behind the Huntrix banner, having practiced a lot since that first try.

“We lose half the fans?” I can just hear Rumi’s murmured words. “The Saja Boys will sit with us!”

“What? Rumi?” Mira and Zoey react quietly. “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Same table?” the crowd joins together again as the table gets moved next to theirs.

“We need every fan,” Rumi tells the other two.

“Hm. We keep meeting like this,” Romance says, sitting down next to Mira. Draping an arm over her chair. Leaning his head on his other hand. Staring at Mira while she glares back at him. Abby taking a seat on Mira's left, smirk tugging at his lips.

“I am not sitting with no Saja boy-” Zoey cuts herself off when Mystery sits down next to her, giggling like a high school girl with a crush. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t think you liked sharing,” Jinu whispers to Rumi when he sits down beside her.

“I love sharing.”

“Oh, so you shared your secret with your friends?”

“If only I could smash your demon face in right now,” Mira hisses quietly. Her eyes shifting from Romance to Abby as she signs her poster. “Thanks for coming!” she puts up a sweet face as she hands over the signed poster.

“Should I tell them?” Jinu asks.

“No, I can’t tell them,” Rumi reminds him.

“Are you whispering?” a fan suddenly cut their conversation. The two of them stuttering as they frantically sign the Rumi poster and hand it to the fan. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she says pointing at her shirt which has a drawing of the two of them along with their ship name; Rujinu. They chuckle awkwardly. “Oh, so cute!”

“Thanks for coming!” Zoey speaks with a sweet smile on her lips, while Mystery sits next to her. Arms crossed, pretty much staring down the Huntrix fan in front of them like he had seen them kick a puppy. Softly growling. “No! Bad Saja Boy!” Zoey scolds him which surprisingly stops his growling.

“I’ll sign first,” Mira fights with Abby and Romance over who will sign the cast of a fan. Dragging his foot from left to right on the table like he isn’t struggling to keep his stability on his crutches.

"If Y/n were still with Huntrix," I catch the whisper of a fan. An image of said fan being sent to me by Baby. The fan standing directly in front of him. "I would ship you," he doesn't reply. Simply smirks and sends the fan a wink making them squeal.

“I’m not gonna talk to someone who’s helping Gwi ma,” Rumi whispers, trying to focus on the signing.

“What if that’s not the plan anymore.”

“Like I would believe you, you have my sister helping you.”

“And who’s fault is that,” he whispers in her ear making her kick his foot under the table.

“I had no choice!” She whisper yells at him. “They didn’t accept her. If I revealed what I am we would never stand a chance at defeating Gwi ma. I’m supposed to hate all demons, like I hate Gwi ma.”

“If hate could defeat Gwi ma, we would have done it a long time ago,” Jinu tells her calmly, truthfully. “Trust me.”

“Excuse me, mr. Jinu,” the voice of a little girl cuts their moment. “I made this for you,” both turn to the girl. Jinu surprised, not expecting this in the slightest.

“Uh, for me?” she holds out the drawing to him. He takes the paper like its a porcelain plate. Fragile, breakable. The two stare at the drawing for a little while.

“Maybe listen to those voices instead of the ones in your head,” Rumi says referring to the time they met up, she’s trying to be rude about it, but it sounds more sincere than I think she meant to.

It had been a couple of days since Tiger had been at the apartment. He finally appeared again when it was just me, Baby and Jinu in the living room. The other three had been disappearing into their rooms more often than not.

Tiger sat in front of Jinu, waiting for his attention. I was stretched out over the couch, using Baby’s thighs as a pillow while he read above me. Fingers running through my hair soothingly.

“Oh, my-” Jinu’s sudden excitement has my eyes shoot open in surprise. Baby sighed but closed the book nonetheless. How he did it, I don’t know, but he would just remember the page number he left on. Not caring about a bookmark. Who does that?

“What is it?” I ask, sleepily.

“It’s from Rumi, she’s agreed to meet you,” the anxiety spike returns, just that has Baby reach for my hand. Squeezing it gently.

“I thought, I had been very clear, last time we spoke about this,” Baby glares at him. Sitting up slowly, I take the card from Jinu.

Fine, I’ll take that talk with Y/n. But not for you! She’ll know where to meet me. - Rumi

Stubborn as ever, I shake my head. “You think she’s feeling the pull?” I ask Baby. He sighs, not liking the way my anxiety melted away for warmth of the potential happiness that could come out of this.

“Yes, she probably is,” he answers me, voice gentle, unlike how he spoke to Jinu. “I’m surprised she held out this long. “

“Is that were Tiger was?” I ask Jinu, who nods.

“I’ll do it,” I announce after a moment of me just staring at her neat hand writing.

“I’m coming with you,” Baby immediately says, but I shake me head.

“No, she won’t trust you,” it’s true and he knows it. “I can protect myself. I can get away from her, thanks to you,” I peck his cheek. Lingering to reassure him that I’ll be okay.

“Alright.”

I arrive first. Kneeling in front of our moms grave.

“Hi mom,” my voice soft. “I know it’s been a while since my last visit. I’m sorry,” I apologize. A crunch of a branch tells me Rumi has arrived. Placing a kiss on the tips of my fingers, I press them against her headstone before standing up. Turning to Rumi.

“I didn’t think you would actually show,” she says, a sullen expression on her face. Hands stuffed in her sweaters pockets.

“When Jinu first told me of his offer to you, I wouldn’t have come, no,” I tell her honestly. Moving at a wide radius away from our moms grave. Giving Rumi the opportunity to talk to mom like I just had.

She does just that, I give her space to do so. This is the first time we talk to her separately. We always went to her grave together every now and again.

“Is this… mates thing… a lie?” she hesitates, when she’s done talking to mom. Getting up, keeping the same radius I had. Ten paces apart we take our seat on separate grass patches.

“It is not,” I shake my head, pulling the zipper down of my turtle neck top. Show her my mating mark that has now healed completely. Leaving holographic scars in the shape of his teeth. “Jinu did not lie to you about that, and I think you believed him. Even before you wanted to.”

She nods, seemingly ashamed that she did, but unable to deny the pull she now feels to him. “Did Jinu lie when he said he wasn’t going to help Gwi ma anymore?”

“Yes and no,” she looks confused at my answer.

“What does that mean?” she frowns.

“I think, that after finding out you were his mate, he stopped wanting to help Gwi ma.”

“But?”

“But because of what you did to me-” anxiety spikes as the memories play again. Warmth spreads within seconds, allowing me to take a deep breath and continue. Thank you Baby. “And the memories that haunt, not only Jinu, but the others too. They became my friends, I know it may seem like they do all this for Gwi ma. But they don’t. They will continue if it means they can get rid of their memories. Probably until its too late.”

“I guess… I guess I can’t blame them for that…” she sighs, gaze falling to the grass in front of her, like she can’t bear to meet mine. “For what it’s worth… I am so-rry,” her voice cracks. Her mask faltering as tears roll freely off her cheeks. “… I’m so- so sor-ry…” her shoulders shake. “I- I panicked! I never-” she sniffles. “I never wanted to hurt- you.”

“It hurt… so much,” I croak out, unable to keep from crying myself. Being this close yet so far from my sister. It was agony. “Not just the betrayal…” a quick intake of breath which does little to stop my emotions from going haywire. “It was like I was- like I was being burned… in, I don’t know, hell fire,” I struggle to find the words. Trying to paint a picture she would - hopefully - never feel. "Gwi ma, tortured me... with it... making it play- over and over," I pause. "Louder, every time," my voice just above a whisper. It hangs in the air for an uncertain amount of time.

“Can I please- hug you?” her voice is so soft, I barely catch her words. Looking up in surprise. Wondering if I even heard her right. My eyes find hers already staring at me. Switching between either one in desperation. I barely finish my nod and she on her feet.

We crush together in the middle. Arms wrapped tightly around each other. Tears ruining each others clothes, not that we cared about that in the moment, or ever.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” her voice is shaky as she whispers the words, over an over. Hiding her face in my shoulder. I feel us sink to the gravel, never letting go.

I don't know how long we stay there, just crying while we hold onto each other desperately.

“I missed you so much,” she whispers when we finally stopped crying. Pulling away enough to look at me up close. A shaky smile forms on my lips as I nod in agreement.

“I missed you too, even though I felt betrayed,” I sigh, using one hand to wipe away left over tears. “Mira and Zoey too.”

“I know they miss you too,” it surprises me. Her voice is so full of raw emotion I know she’s not lying. “We regret it so much, me the most,” she points at her own chest. “I lost my voice, I couldn’t sing anymore. I didn’t think I deserved to either way.”

We are hunters, voices strong

I start, which she quickly catches on to. Joining me.

Slaying demons with our song Fix the world and make it right When darkness finally meets the light

Our foreheads meet in the middle. It held a lot more meaning now. We weren’t singing about slaying literally demons. It was about our thoughts. How we can speak our truth to each other now. Where her darkness meets my light and we can still fix all this. “That is the first time I’ve sang since the performance before… you know.”

“Meeting Jinu, my voice returned. I had someone who I could talk about my patterns with again,” Rumi confesses. “Someone I could be completely me with, but it was different.”

“It is,” I nod, separating our connection. “Because he is your mate. I had the same with Baby. Even if I didn’t want to believe demons could be nice at first,” I shake my head, getting a smile from her. “Also, would you believe it! Not all demons are ugly like we thought,” this gets her to laugh uncontrollably, happy tears playing on the rims of her eyes. She pulls me impossible closer, letting out a shuddering sigh of relief.

“Hey, can demons only have demon mates?” I ask, still confused by Romance, Mystery’s and Abby’s recent behavior changes.

“Uhm, no,” Mystery answers my question surprisingly. His expression unreadable. “Could be a human too,” the way he drags out ‘too’, only confirms my suspicions.

“Am I correct in assuming you three have found your mates in my human band members?” it’s hard to hide the smirk that starts tugging at my lips. Abby is the first to react, his gaze flicking to me in an instant. Got you. “I knew it!” I fist pump the air in excitement.

“Why does our misery excite you exactly?” Romance asks, sinking lower into the couch.

“Well,” I draw out the word as I get off of Baby’s lap. Much to his dismay. “Because it changes everything!”

“What are you talking about?” Abby asks, confusion written on all over their faces. Except, Baby, which surprises me only a little. Maybe my feelings about this have bled into him more than I thought.

“Don’t you see,” I start, pacing in front of them. “All of you have mates on this plane. Hunters to be precise,” I explain it like it’s obvious. “If we destroy them, you’ll never be with them!” this seems to make all of them pause.

“They hate demons, remember,” Romance’s voice is edged with a depression I had never seen on the man.

“That doesn’t mean they can’t change!” my voice is almost desperate. Trying to get them to see what I see. “If- if,” my thoughts go too fast for my mouth to keep up. A hand takes mine, Baby. I breathe. “If we can convince Rumi that we will help them seal the Honmoon-”

“What!?” that comes from all three of them at once.

“Listen to me!” I snap, gripping Baby’s hand tighter. “If we help them seal the Honmoon, while we are on this plane. It will keep us here!” slowly their gaze shift from disbelief to something I can’t place. Something like… hope. Or maybe fear of even the thought of hope. “Gwi ma won’t have control over us.”

“How are you so sure?” Mystery asks, his voice soft. Unrecognizable from his normal confident self.

“Because Rumi and I were already born when the Honmoon was last sealed,” I tell them. “We stayed here, lead normal human lives. Even if we had to hide our patterns.”

“Alright, I’ll trust you on this,” Abby says sitting up straight. This gets the other two to agree soon after.

“How do we make it happen?”

“Jinu, you need to talk to Rumi. Tell her our plan,” I turn to Jinu. “She’ll do whatever she can to ensure Mira and Zoey will not harm us. I’m sure of it, but we will have to keep pretending to do this for Gwi ma,” the plan was simple really. It would all end tomorrow at the International Idol Awards.

“Two bands, one award,” the intro starts playing on the tv in the Saja Boys’ dressing room. “Every snowflake is special. But one snowflake is probably the best. Who will be the top the the mountain?”

“Is this guy for real?” Abby asks in disbelief. I smack his arm playfully.

“Hey, this is a respected award show,” I tell him. “We are five-year reigning champions, I’ll have you know,” Baby chuckles at my defense, squeezing my side.

“Fans from around the universe will decide!” The stage comes into view. The stadium filled to the brim with fans. “Finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for. Here are the five-year reigning champs of the International Idol Awards, Huntrix!”

“Okay, it’s time,” I tell them. “Fake the fight,” immediately they start arguing about stupid things like stolen shoes. Men, am I right? But it sounds believable, especially through he nearly sound proof door.

“Versus the heart-stealing newcomers, the Saja Boys! Who will win?” “Please welcome to the stage, the Saja Boys!”

“The Saja Boys, are having a fight,” I tell a staff member as I open the door just a peep. “They will not be performing tonight,” Their eyes seem to widen. Rushing away. Most likely to tell other staff and Bobby of the earlier performance of the Huntrix.

Closing the door behind me, I give them a thumbs up. “Now we just let it play out.”

Everything quiets down in the room. Watching in anticipation, hoping it would work.

“Uh, okay, there’s been a slight change in schedule,” the host announces.

Baby is sat on the arm rest of the leather couch in the room. I sit right on the edge between his legs, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. Possessive, protective. Afraid of loosing me, just as I am to loose him if this goes bad.

Romance, Abby and Mystery actually sit on the three seater leather couch. Jinu, nervously sat on the other arm rest. Tension was high.

“Here to preform their hot new single, Golden, it’s Huntrix!”

“What?” my voice is laced with confusion. The door to the dressing room slams open. Startling everyone in the room.

“Y/n, quick.”

“When you told me to wear my golden costume, you could have told me this was the reason for it,” I tell Rumi while she throws a headworn microphone at me.

I lock eyes with Baby, portraying that I didn’t know.

“You go this,” he winks confidently. “I’ll be right here when you return,” I smash our lips together in a desperate kiss. Pouring all my fear into it along with anxious hope. “Go, darling,” his voice soft as he wipes a tear I didn’t know escaped off my cheek.

Breaking away, I watch as Rumi pulls away from a similar kiss with Jinu. A blush covering her cheeks. With that we run out the room.

“Do Zoey and Mira know I’m here to perform?” I ask on the way.

“Uhm, kind of?” Rumi admits, grimacing.

“Rumi!”

“I told them to trust me, alright!” we reach the girls just in time. It luckily doesn’t give the two the chance to ask any questions as we get lifted up to the stage.

I start my part, the crowd cheering in surprise.

I was a ghost, I was alone. Eo du wojin, ap gil sok e Given the throne I didn’t know How to believe I was the queen that I’m meant to be!

Thankfully, it all goes smoothly as we continue the song. Leaving the stage when its time for Rumi’s solo. I anxiously keep my distance from Zoey and Mira. Though I’m not too worried with so many people around.

“She’s killing it out there!” Zoey nearly screams overjoyed to see my sister sing well once more. Mira on the other hand doesn’t seem to be sure whether she should be glaring at me or feel grateful that I’m actually still alive. In the end she shakes her head.

“Let’s go finish this,” but commotion backstage draws our attention. We watch Bobby being dragged away by to people, their eyes flashing gold before disappearing around the corner. “Bobby?” Zoey turns to glare at me instantaneously.

“This isn’t us, I swear,” I hold up my hands trying to prove my innocence. “I didn’t do this!”

“Stay away from us,” Mira hisses at me as I go to follow them to help Bobby. My breath quickens as I watch them run away. The staff yelling after them that they’re on in 20 seconds.

“What is happening?” I mutter, dashing in the other direction. I crash straight into the dressing room. All five of them are still sat there, watching Rumi perform.

Baby is at my side in seconds. “What’s going on?”

“Who took Bobby!?” my voice is more confused than accusatory, but its there. Their brows furrow. “I thought we agreed.”

“We did,” Mystery stands up confused. “What do you mean, who took Bobby?”

Realization dawns on me, my eyes darting to the screen. “Rumi…” I breath, watching as the music changes from Golden to an entirely different song. One I didn’t know. Mira and Zoey join her back onstage… but something is off about them. “I have to get to Rumi!”

Emotion crowds my chest as I teleport in bursts, racing closer and closer to the stage. But I’m too late.

The fakes have already exposed her patterns.

“No!” Rumi’s voice pierces the air. Lights break in her wake. Her patterns start glowing purple. Unable to hide them anymore. She’s trembling. Frantic, scared, exposed.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the real Zoey and Mira return on the other side of the stage. Stopping in their tracks at the sight of Rumi. And slowly they step back. Back… away from her.

Rumi gains enough control of herself and runs off stage. I quickly run after her, but I’m not fast enough to stop her from running into Mira and Zoey. Witnessing their conversation from the stairs.

“How are you here?” I hear Rumi’s shaky voice. “You were just on stage. That wasn’t you?” She trembling like crazy. “Oh, thank goodness,” she takes a step closer to them. But they just take a steps back. “No. No!” her gaze falls to her hands, the patterns on full display. Not hidden like she expected them to be.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Zoey’s voice is surprisingly soft as she questions Rumi. “You knew about Y/n because you are one too.”

Her breath hitches. “Yes, but-” she stutters. “I didn’t have a- have choice.”

“You lied to us,” Mira’s voice is sharp. “This whole time?”

“No, I-” she shakes her head vividly. “We had a plan.”

“We?”

“Sealing the Honmoon,” I finally speak up. Revealing myself to them. Joining Rumi. Mira and Zoey take another step back, drawing their weapons on us, but not yet pointing them at us.

“You told us to trust you,” Zoey's voice is colder than I have ever heard it.

“And it back fired, on not just us, but on you too,” if looks could kill, Mira’s gaze would have sent us straight to hell.

“No,” I tell them, shaking my head. “This wasn’t us,” I say referring to me and the Saja Boys. “We wanted you guys to seal the Honmoon tonight.”

“It was supposed to save us,” Rumi adds, taking my hand with her shaky one. “We were supposed to become normal… and be together again.”

“How could we be together if we can’t tell your lies from your truths, Rumi?”

“I knew it, I knew it was too good to be true,” Mira’s voice is filled with disappointment.

“Mira, no! Didn’t you see?” Rumi tries once more as a desperate attempt. “See the gold? We’re so close!” instead they only back up further as she tries to get closer to them. “No, don’t leave! We can still…”

“Fix this!” my voice combines with hers makes the Honmoon ring magenta. Loosing us whatever trust that would have been left from the two. Mira pointing her woldo at us.

“Zoey, please,” my voice trembles. Tears in my eyes. It doesn’t change anything. She too readies her kunai’s. Before they can try to use them on us. I squeeze Rumi’s hand and teleport her with me.

I wasn’t entirely sure where I took us. But it became clear as our eyes followed how the Honmoon was breaking apart. Our gaze landing on the Shinmok. Celine stood there, back to us. But she knew we were there. Turning around with her nat suddenly, as if to catch us off guard.

“Rumi? Y/n?”

“I thought we could fix it,” Rumi says. Staring blankly at the ground. Voice going static.

“They know of both of us now,” my voice seems to do the same as we near Celine.

“There is no denying it now.”

“There is no fixing it.”

“This is what we are,” The slow tearing of the Honmoon had both of us looking mostly demon, mirrored glowing patterns, one gold eye each.

“Y/n, how?” they had to have told Celine the truth of what happened that night. She wouldn’t have been as surprised to see me if they hadn’t. They thought I had been dead. “I tried to protect you,” Celine continues, stepping cautiously closer to us. “When we lost your mother, I swore to protect you both. But I never thought that you would be children like this,” her voice trembles as she reaches out to us but can’t seem to touch us. Doesn’t dare to touch us. “Everything I was taught told me you two were wrong, but I made a promise. So I did my best to accept you and help you-”

“Accept us?” Rumi asks, meeting Celine’s tear filled gaze. “You told us to cover up, to hide.”

“Yes, until we can fix everything-”

“And look where that got us,” I scoff. “If we had been honest… from the start,” I choke on my own emotions. “We wouldn’t look like this now.”

“The Honmoon would have been golden already.”

“We can still fix this,” Celine mumbles she steps away from us.

“Don’t you get it!”

“This is what we are!” Rumi and I speak sentence after sentence like we had rehearsed this. But we hadn’t, we just knew exactly what we were trying to get across to her.

“Look at us,” we state when she will no longer dare to look us in the eyes. To truly see what she caused. “Why can’t you look at us?! Why couldn’t you love us?!”

“I do!”

“Every part of us!” our combined cry for acceptance creates another magenta ripple to run over the Honmoon around us. Spreading wider than before.

“This is why we have to hide it,” Celine sounds desperate and out of breath. Looking around frantically at the Honmoon. “Our faults and fears must never been seen. It’s the only way to protect the Honmoon.”

Silence.

“If this is the Honmoon we’re supposed to protect, we’re glad to see it destroyed,” with that we leave her there.

Our agreement is silent as we meet at moms grave once more. “We’re going to have to create a new Honmoon,” I tell her. The both of us pacing the ground.

“Yes, we do.”

“I have a plan, one sec,” I leave her for approximately five seconds before returning with the Saja Boys. Jinu immediately takes Rumi in a protective hold.

“Do you know, how hard it was for me to not follow you,” Baby whispers in my ear as he stands behind me. Wrapping an arm around my waist.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, turning sideways to peck his cheek. “Thank you for trusting me,” he responds to my words with a bite to my mating mark making me shiver deliciously. “Not now," I scold him.

“Anyways, plan,” Romance asks.

“Right, have you guys spoke to Gwi ma yet?”

“Yes,” Abby answers. “He believes we are still on his side. He just thought it took too long. Sorry for that Rumi,” he apologizes awkwardly to my sister.

“We genuinely didn’t know this would happen,” Jinu adds, squeezing the girl who accepts the apology.

“That’s good, did he miss me there?” I ask.

“I don’t think he could care less,” Baby says, seemingly relieved knowing I’m pretty much not a target for Gwi ma. “But Gwi ma has everyone in a trance. They are all going to Namsan Tower.”

“Okay, we can work with that,” Rumi says, running her brain for ideas.

“Including, Zoey and Mira,” Mystery adds, worry lacing his voice.

“Okay, that makes it a bit harder,” I admit.

“Gwi-ma wants us to do a show there, to keep the people tranced,” Jinu goes to explain Gwi ma’s plan. “That way they will willingly walk into his fire.”

“Do it,” I tell them, seriously. All six of them stare at me like I grew three heads. “We can put a stop to it,” I point my finger between me and Rumi. “Trust me.”

It doesn’t take the boys a lot of convincing, they nod. Jinu leaves a linger kiss on Rumi’s lips. “Take care of yourself,” he tells her sincerely. She nods in silent promise.

“If anything goes wrong, I will protect you,” Baby says to me. “Even if it kills me,” I want to tell him no, but he connects our lips and disappears before I can melt into it.

Rumi and I meet eyes, scared but ready.

Oh!

Rumi’s voice rings loud and clear through Namsan Tower. Cutting the boys off. People clear the way for a view of Rumi. Stood there, broken but true.

We are hunters. Voices strong. Slaying demons with our song. Fix the world and make it right. When darkness finally meets the light.

“You come here like this?” no one is walking towards the flames anymore, just like I suspected. “You think you can fix the world? You can’t even fix yourself,” Gwi ma plays with her shame and insecurities.

“I can’t,” she admits, sullenly.

“And now everyone finally sees you for what you really are.”

“They do.”

“And the Honmoon is gone.”

“It is,” Gwi ma thinks he’s won. “So we can make a new one,” her gaze grows serious.

Nothing but the truth now. Nothing but the proof of what I am.

She walks as she sings, closer. Transforming unknowingly, but I see it. Patterns glowing like iridescent glass, shifting though colors with every note she sings.

The worst of what I came from Patterns I’m ashamed of Things that even I don’t understand I tried to fix it I tried to fight it My head was twisted My heart divided My lies all collided I don’t know why I didn’t Trust you to be on my side

That’s when I join, appearing right next to her.

I broke into a million pieces, and I can't go back But now I'm seeing all the beauty in the broken glass The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like

My eyes find Zoey, who is emerging from the crowd, soul glowing bright. Rumi finding Mira just the same.

Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?

Zoey joins with her own truth.

I should've let the jagged edges meet the light instead

Mira, putting her trust in us more than she ever could.

Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony The song we couldn't write, this is what it sounds like

“Stop this song!” Gwi ma demands. Three tears open at the center of the stage. Demons crawling out fast. But we don’t stop.

We're shattering the silence, we're rising defiant Shouting in the quiet, you're not alone

We draw our weapons. Rumi, her sword, Mira her woldo, Zoey her Kunai’s. And me, I draw my dual daggers.

We listened to the demons, we let them get between us But none of us are out here on our own

We fight through the demons with ease, continuing our song. Souls lighting in the crowd as our voices harmonize and grow strong.

So, we were cowards, so, we were liars So, we're not heroes, we're still survivors The dreamers, the fighters, no lying, I'm tired But dive in the fire and I'll be right here by your side

Meeting in the center, we hug, creating a brand new Honmoon.

“I promise you, I am on your side,” I tell them.

“We know,” Zoey breathes with relief.

“Trust me, when I tell you that the Saja boys are on our side,” they hesitate for a moment when our eyes connect. But with a nod from Rumi, they nod too.

We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head? Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like

More demons spawn, crawling their way to us. The Saja boys flying up into the air. Rumi pushes forward while, Zoey, Mira and I take care of the crawling demons coming at us.

Though, Gwi ma, quickly calls them back. Abby and Romance swooping down, pretending to attack Mira. A spike of fear runs through me at the sight. Afraid she’ll attack them anyway, but she pretends right back.

Mystery lands before Zoey, staring her down menacingly. Baby, grabbing a hold of me from behind. I know he’s trying to protect me and fight away a smile that’s threatening to break on my face.

“You’re voices cannot ... defeat ... me!” Gwi ma yells, sending a blast directly at Rumi. She reacts quick enough, using her sword as a shield.

“No!” I scream out. Jinu and I seem to have the same plan.

He is there first, taking the brute force of the blast.

But I teleport behind him. Pushing him at Rumi, they both gasp. Turning to me.

“Y/n!” my eyes shift to Baby. He tries but fails to get to me. Teleporting in spurts before collapsing on the ground. Feeling exactly what I feel.

It’s not just physical. It’s like my body and soul are being torn apart from the inside out. It's that hell fire all over again, but triple the pain.

“Y/n, no,” Rumi’s voice is filled with fear. Jinu’s eyes shift from mine to Baby where he lays on the stage floor.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. “for wanting revenge.”

“No,” she shakes her head vividly. Not agreeing with what I said. “I deserved it!” she nearly yells at me.

“It’s okay,” I struggle to smile. The pressure of the blast almost becoming to much. My heart pounds in my ears, louder and louder. Deafening me as my eyes slowly blur to a close.

But I don’t wither away like I expect. I can feel my body fighting the blast. A war raging beneath my skin. I don’t need to see it to know what’s happening.

The iridescent patterns, spread. Like veins of molten light weaving across my skin. Swallowing my entire body, covering every inch of me in the iridescent glow.

Growing brighter like a blinding radiant light, gasps ring in my head as my body blinds everyone present. Drowning the tower in an otherworldly glow.

This is what does it. All souls seem to come to life. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. From where I’m floating. The crowd sings the song. Letting Rumi, Mira and Zoey use their souls to defend themself against Gwi ma.

We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back But now I'm seeing all the beauty in the broken glass The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head? Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like

My eyes finally seem to open as I float with them. High, higher. My voice returns and I’m able to join them in over powering Gwi ma. Our voices sealing the new Honmoon.

My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like Truth after all this time, our voices all combined When darkness meets the light, this is what it sounds like

“Shit, Y/n,” Mira curses when the four land back on stage. But Y/n doesn’t stay standing. If it weren’t for Mira’s quick reaction time to keep her up.

Rumi is quick to help her keep, Y/n up. Worry running through her body. It’s Zoey who checks for a pulse.

“She’s alive,” she announces quietly. Their eyes find the Saja boys, still there, back in human form. Mystery and Abby carrying a, in a similar state, Baby.

A groan escapes me lips, turning around. Or trying to anyway, to face away from the light shining onto my face. The sharpness of it, not helping my headache in the slightest.

I finally manage to turn around in the tangles of my covers, taking in a deep breath. Snuggling my face into the pillow in front of me. Why is it so hard tho? I go to punch it, so it's soft but my hand finds a chest instead.

"Ow," it's not a sound of actually pain, but my eyes shoot open anyways. I instantly regret it when I'm hit with a sharp spike from the headache. Squeezing my eyes shut, arms wrap around me tighter. Pulling me closer to the person. Opening my eyes again, slower this time.

I look up, finding Baby already lazily staring back at me. A gentle smile on his lips. "Hello, darling," his voice deep from sleep.

"Hi..." I melt back into him. Snuggling my face back into his chest. Wrapping my right arm around him, grabbing hold of him tightly. The room stays silent for a while, apart from our soft breathing.

"Wait," I mumble, my eyes opening once me. "I'm alive...?"

"I guess we are," Baby agrees. A flash of him not being able to make it to me in time has chills running down my spine.

"But..." I'm so confused. "But how?" I don't remember anything of what happened after I closed my eyes when the blast got too much. "How long have we been asleep for?"

"I don't know, but it could have been longer had you not punched me," he smirks teasingly, making me pout. He kisses it away, his hands finding my waist, tickling me.

Laughter filling the room, headache gone with the wind.

"What is going on!?" the door to the room gets thrown open. Smashing against the wall. Startling us, our gazes turning to said door.

There we find, Rumi, Jinu, Zoey & Mira, Mystery, Romance and Abby close behind them.

"You're awake!" Zoey scream, rushing over to what I now realize is old my bed at the Huntrix apartment. Pulling me from Baby, she hugs me tight, Rumi and Mira not far behind. Engulfed in a hug of the people I love the most. Well, besides Baby of course.

"You guys," my voice muffled by Rumi's hoodie. "I need to actually breathe," I chuckle when they actually give me some room. "What happened?"

"Later, first food," Mira says, pulling out of bed. Had they put my pajamas on me? I wonder as I stare down at my llama pants. The men in the room just chuckle, including Baby. He to gets out of bed, wearing his own set of pajamas. Not once I had ever seen before though. They matched mine too, only his were black and white, while mine were white and black.

Before I can ask anymore questioned we're being ushed out the room. Straight to the living room where I'm made to sit down. In an instant I'm being handed my flavor ramyeon. I don't question why they had it ready already. Baby taking a seat next to me, being handed a cup of my flavor ramyeon.

They all gather around us, just staring at up with grateful smiles which kinda creeps me out. But I let it slide for a second when I notice Zoey sitting close to Mystery. My eyes shooting to Mira, happy to find her as she takes a seat between Abby and Romance.

"... Okay, now tell us what happened," I demand as we eat slowly. Wanting them to stop gawking at us.

It's a story told like a disoriented bird. It goes left, right, up down, never straight. But it's nice to hear them talking. I sink against Baby.

Listen to them explain how they all thought we were dead, pointing at both Baby and me. Relieved when they found a pulse on both of us. "Going to a hospital wasn't gonna do anything," Zoey rambles, shaking her hand dismissively. "So we brought you here."

"And we waited," Mira adds.

"And waited," Rumi adds, grinning.

"And totally did not prepare two ramyeon for you everyday in anticipation or anything," Zoey continues. Making my eyes widen. Turning my head I look at our kitchen. Stacks upon stacks of opened, hopefully empty, ramyeon cups stood on the counter.

"Oh don't worry, thats only like, idk 50 cups," Jinu shrugs.

"What!? We were OUT for 25 days!?"

"Uhm..." Rumi, Mira and Zoey both count on their fingers. "No, 26 days," they say casually, pointing at the cups we were currently holding.

"Wha-" I look at Baby whose eyes are just as wide as mine.

"We knew you two would be fine," Romance says, shrugging his shoulders. "The fact that you two sealed your mating bond protected you."

"You can feel each others pain, yes," Jinu continues. "But you also take. So while yes, you took the full blast of it. Baby over here, took half if away from you."

"That saved you from it being a lethal blow," Mystery finishes. "It just took a while to recover," he smiles sweetly.

"Okay, wow," is all I can think to say. Leaning forward to put the now empty Ramyeon on the coffee table, taking Baby's before he can protest. "But I'm still confused, did we ... win?"

"Yes," Mira chuckles. "You actually sung with is, do you not remember that?"

"No, I don't remember anything that happened after I closed my eyes. and thought I would die," Baby sat cross legged. So I swiftly placed my self between his legs. Instantly his arms wrap around my shoulders. Pecking the top of my head, lingering.

"It was so cool!" Zoey goes off. "You turned like fully iridescent! It was blinding! But that is what let us defeat Gwi ma."

"Okay, one more question," I state. "Is everything good, are we good? Did you guys tell them...?" instantly Zoey blushes and Mira turns surprisingly red. A rare sight.

"Yes, we are mated," Mystery smiles lovingly at Zoey, who turns to him. Pecking his lips sweetly.

"Us, too," Abby smirks. "We managed to tie this beauty down," he says squeezing Mira's waist who sends him a playful glare. Romance chuckling and pecking her cheek.

The end!

// Main Story // Bonus Chapters //

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[dannyriccsystem]

CHAPTER SEVEN - SERIES INFO

WARNINGS: Bodyshaming, implications of an ED

PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Ballerina!Reader

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Oscar notices some bad habits with the reader, and decides to ask her about it. He gets some inside information on her behavior simultaneously

NOTES: Uhmm looks around. I did NOT forget about this… It has NOT been sitting in my drafts. No sir. SINCERELY sorry this took so long though!!

<<< PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>>

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆ OSCAR PIASTRI

username2 - Literally what do you mean??

username1 - she’s obviously put on a few pounds. not flattering considering her job…

> username2 - you’re insufferable

username3 - If you mean absolutely radiant and beautiful, then yes!

username4 - Gross…

username5 - I just know a man made this post

username6 - Jump

your.username

liked by bhamroyalballet and others

your.username Tour has been good so far.

—

username7 - Geez. Eat a salad maybe 😂

username8 - Private account… sybau 🥀

username9 - Comparing her to her first show with this studio… Yikes

username10 - It’s almost like… People grow

> username11 - Yeah well apparently some more than others

username12 - Delete the hate all you want babes, doesn’t change the fact you’re not fit for this job anymore ☺️❤️

lilyzneimer - HI PRETTY GIRL!

♥︎ by author

username13 - Run Lily, she might eat you!

username14 - She looks the exact same y’all wtf.

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri - Guys ballet is pretty cool turns out

♥︎ by author

lando - Saw the show. I can do better

your.username - No you can’t. I saw you 😇

> lando - Errr delete this now!

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆ OSCAR PIASTRI

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆ LILY ZNEIMER

Taglist! Comment to be added

@wierdflowerpower @imagine-it-was-us @suliigwp @dozyisdead @apfelzeugs @stxrlvrzz @vhkdncu2ei8997 @gigigreens @oddends @kick127 @its-me-frankie @shadowreader07 @mits-vi

[harkness-girl]

a quiet little thing - I

Pairing: AgathaRio x fem!reader

Plot: you are an anxious quiet person who in a moment of liquid courage catches the eye of a very hot older woman Agatha... and her equally hot wife Rio.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, kind of a slowburn, eventual smut, praise kink, additional warnings to be added

Author`s note: So I was about to start writing a different multichapter story when this idea came to me. I’m not very happy about the first chapter, so consider it just an introduction to the story. I will try to post regularly, at least once a week.

Tip me 💰if you like my work and want to support me :)

You don't remember agreeing to the third shot of tequila, but it's in your hand now and as you lick the salt of the back of your hand and knock the liquid inside you, you feel the warmth spreading and the anxiety simmering so deliciously, you do remember another thing: alcohol consumption makes you less anxious. Your therapist would probably say something like "this realization can be the beginning of a problem", but as she's not around, you decide to indulge in your momentary freedom.

Freedom from anxiety, freedom from that stupid call center operator job which you hated. You found a nice job at a local cafe instead. Your therapist liked it more - said talking to people face to face would overcome your anxiety. You don't agree, but working at a cafe might actually be better for you than sitting behind a computer 8 hours a day.

"To surviving!" your friend Alice shouts, holding up another shot. Who the fuck keeps ordering them?

"To better customers!" Jen adds.

"To less migraines!" you join them lamely as your glasses clink.

The bar is loud, too packed, too... much. But it doesn`t matter, you're drunk and happy about your new job and for once you feel like a normal functioning human being, just out with your friends, not overanalyzing and overthinking every word that leaves your mouth, every move you make and every facial expression of people around you.

Your eyes skip from one person to another and that's when you see her.

At first, you look away, she's just another person in the bar, but your eyes keep wandering back to her and each time you notice a different thing. How her long wavy hair gets a bit frizzy in some places, how her eyes are that kind of blue that should only belong to summer sky, how she's holding herself against the bar, elegantly, mysterious and slightly bored maybe. The black tight dress look like it's painted on her and one of the straps keeps falling down slightly and you have a short vision of your fingers dragging the strap down so you can place a kiss there.

You stare at her for what feels like eternity. You don't even try not to, you'd fail miserably. She doesn't seem to notice you.

"She's so hot," you murmur into your drink.

Alice leans in. "What?"

"Nothing."

Jen turns and squints in the direction of the woman. "Ohh, sweetheart. You look like a baby gay at Pride."

You face heats up. "I do not."

"You should go talk to her," Alice encourages you. "She's hot, you're drunk. This might be your only opportunity."

"Jeez, thanks for the pep talk," you snicker and sip more of your drink.

"Go, come on," Alice says and proceeds to push you out of your seat. You stumble slightly, but for someone who doesn't drink much, you're still pretty okay. So okay that you're actually considering going up to the woman. "Y/N, you might never see her again, what's the harm?"

This sentence doesn't work on you even when your therapist says it, but maybe something about the alcohol and new beginning and the fact that the woman is so breathtaking changes your brain chemistry and the next thing you know you're murmuring "I hate you" to Alice and Jen and you're moving in the direction of the goddess while your friends loudly cheer you on.

"Excuse me," you say, voice steady which surprises you more than anything, that and the lack of warmth that would normally rise to your cheeks by now.

The woman turns and the full weight of her gaze lands on you. Her eyes are even more blue up close, icy and clear. "Yes?" she says, curious.

"I was over there with my friends, having a perfectly nice calm evening," you start, nodding vaguely to your table. "And then you went and ruined it by being so distractingly beatiful." That definitely didn't sound like a sentence you got from an article called "how to flirt in bars" and that you practiced home in front of the mirror... definitely not.

Her lips twitch. "Is that so?"

"Unfortunately, yes." You lean slightly on the bar, tilting your head. "So I figured, I can either keep staring at you or go actually talk to you, so here I am." You make the motion of spreading your arms as if you were a gift she' s won.

She laughs and your heart clenches from the sound. "I am glad you decided to be brave. It's much more interesting."

"Thought so," you reply. "Interesting, not at all humiliating."

She raises an eyebrow. "You think it might be humiliating?"

"That depends... on how charming you find my attempt at flirting."

The woman looks at you for a moment as if she's deciding something and then sets her drink down. "I find it very charming," she admits and then holds out her hand. "I'm Agatha, by the way."

You actually might melt on the spot the second your hands touch. "Y/N." You let her hand go and smile at her sheepishly. "So what does -"

Your further attempts at flirting come to halt when someone appears by her side. A woman, beautiful in a way that makes your knees wobble. Dark hair, deep brown eyes and a little gap in her front teeth that makes her even more hotter. There's something mischievous in her gaze as she sizes you up.

"Making new friends, Agatha?"

Agatha' s smile doesn't falter. "Darling, this is Y/N… my admirer."

You flush so hard it' s a miracle your skin doesn't ignite and all your bravery is gone as it usually is when a conversation you're having with someone takes a surprising turn.

"Oh," the woman says, chuckling. "She's cute."

You attempt to make words, but your shyness has won the fight against alcohol and you're back to being an awkward little you. "I wasn't... oh God. I'm sorry. I should go."

You take a step back and that's when you see the change in their stares and how they both slightly tilt their heads as if watching something interesting.

"No need to run off," says the woman who is very likely Agatha's girlfriend. "I'm Rio, Agatha's wife." Oh well, you shouldn't even be surprised that your first attempt at flirting with a beautiful woman ends like that.

"I should head back anyway," you mumble. You'd need five more shots to stay there now. "My friends are probably wondering where I am."

You turn your head and Agatha and Rio follow your gaze which inevitably ends up on Jen and Alice who are sipping their drinks and are watching you, amused. Oh no.

"Okay, enjoy the rest of your night," Agatha says softly and you smile at her, willing the heat in your cheeks to go away. You can only hope the flashing lights of the club hide it at least a little bit. “And take care of yourself.”

You freeze at that, your heart beating faster in what you assume is a mommy issues rhythm, and your eyes flutter close for a moment when Agatha softly squeezes your arm.

When you open your eyes again, they’re both staring at you with kind of a knowing and intrigued expression. Rio hums quietly and looks you up and down. "Hope to see you again."

You do realize she's flirting and you should flirt back, because they're both beautiful, but all you can do is nod and stumble as you're already backing away. "I'd like that."

And then you're making a beeline to your table, heart pounding in your throat, the world spinning and you might be on a verge of a mental breakdown... or a meeting with the toilet.

Alice and Jen don't make fun of you, they see your face and see how close you are to spiraling, so they both take your hand and drag you to the dance floor. And when you catch a rhythm, the alcohol starts buzzing under your skin again and you loosen up.

You glance towards the bar more than one. Sometimes, one of them is watching.

And sometimes... both are.

~~~

Two days later, it's Monday morning and you're four hours into your first shift and your mind runs on caffeine and anxiety which is a deadly combination. The café is packed and there is a lot of noise and lots of people who have issues with something just because.

You're just considering quitting on the spot when the door chimes and you look up and almost drop the cups in your hands.

It's Rio.

She's wearing a denim jacket and fake leather pants, she's playing with sunglasses that hang from her fingers when her gaze stops on you and she smirks.

"Hey there."

"Hi," you squeak, voice embarrassingly high.

She grins. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."

You put the cups down so that they don't fall out of your shaking hands. "Yeah, uh, small world."

She leans against the counter and cocks an eyebrow at you. "Or maybe fate. First it was my wife's beauty, now it's my wife's insatiable need for caffeine."

Your feel your cheeks burn and have to look away from her piercing gaze. When she realizes you don't have it in you to find an answer to that, she asks for two lattes.

You're grateful that you can turn your back to her and busy yourself with the order, even though you can literally feel her stare at you. When you hand her the cups, she winks at you and you nearly choke on your own saliva.

"We'll be back," she pomises and gives you an amused smile as she drops a ten dollar bill onto the bar and leaves, leaving you a nice tip. For what? Blushing and mumbling?

You stand there and try to calm down your heart.

We'll be back.

Oh boy.

[unabashegirl]

Love Island - part 1

AU. Based on the TV show.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I've been meaning to post this on Tumblr. I hope you like this 10 part series as much as my Patreon followers did. This initial chapter is very short but it's on purpose.

⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Love Island villa. Laughter and splashing echoed as the Islanders basked in the afternoon heat, their spirits high. Y/N lounged on a sunbed, half-listening to Tom, her current partner, as he animatedly recounted his latest gym achievements. She forced a smile, nodding occasionally, but her mind drifted. Each day felt like a mirror of the last, a cycle of sunbathing and surface-level conversations that left her craving something deeper.

Then, a sudden commotion pulled her from her thoughts. Georgia, the self-appointed drama queen of the group, leaped up, her phone held high in the air. “I’ve got a text!”

The excitement was palpable as everyone converged around her, eager to hear the news. Y/N's heart raced with anticipation; a new arrival could break the monotony and shake things up in the villa.

With a flourish, Georgia read aloud: “Islanders, get ready to welcome a new boy! Please head to the front of the villa to greet him. #NewBoyAlert”

Cheers erupted, and the Islanders surged toward the entrance, Y/N caught up in the tide of enthusiasm. As they gathered at the door, playful jabs and speculation flew about the new contestant, each guess more outrageous than the last.

When the door swung open, a wave of heat rolled through the villa. In walked Harry, tall and confident, with tousled dark curls that framed his face and tattoos peeking out from under his arms. He was clad only in dark swimming trunks, showcasing his fit physique. The moment he stepped in, it felt as if the air shifted—a palpable energy filled the space.

“Hey, everyone!” he called, his voice warm and inviting. “I’m Harry. I’m 26, a travel photographer, and I���m here looking for someone special.”

As the group responded with cheers and applause, Y/N felt a jolt of excitement at his casual charm. He seemed so at ease, as if he belonged there, and she found herself drawn to his confidence.

“Travel photographer?” Zara chimed in, her tone flirty. “Sounds glamorous! What’s your favorite place you’ve been?”

“Honestly? It’s tough to pick,” he replied, flashing a charming smile that made Y/N’s stomach flip. “But I’d say Greece has its magic. The sunsets there are something else”, He glanced at Y/N as he said this, and for a moment, their eyes locked, sparking an unexpected connection.

As introductions continued, Harry moved down the line, exchanging light banter and laughter. When he reached Y/N, his gaze lingered, a genuine curiosity dancing in his green eyes.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked, his tone sincere.

“Y/N,” she replied, feeling her heart race under his attention. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Great to meet you, too, Y/N,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

As the evening wore on, the villa transformed into a cozy gathering spot under the twinkling lights. Y/N found herself outside by the pool, trying to catch her breath from the whirlwind of introductions. The water shimmered invitingly, but her thoughts were consumed by Harry—the way he carried himself, how he seemed genuinely interested in everyone, and that spark in his eyes when they’d connected.

To her surprise, Harry sauntered over, casually lowering himself onto the lounge chair next to her. The warmth of his presence felt comforting, like a breath of fresh air.

“Mind if I join?” he asked, his tone light, but there was a deeper warmth in his voice that made her heart flutter.

“Not at all,” Y/N replied, a smile breaking across her face.

Harry stretched out on the chair, his relaxed posture revealing a confidence that made her feel at ease. “So, what do you make of all this?” he asked, glancing around the villa.

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, glancing up at the stars. “But it can get a bit repetitive. I mean, we’re all here looking for something, but sometimes it feels like we’re just... drifting.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. what’s kept you in here so long?”

She looked up, surprised by his directness. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t strike me as the type who’d settle for just anyone. So, I was curious why you’re still here.”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “You get all that just from looking?”

“Maybe,” he replied casually. “Or maybe I’m just observant. Part of the job, you know.”

Their conversation deepened, revealing snippets of their lives. Y/N found herself sharing stories about her childhood, her passion for art, and how she’d dreamed of traveling but had never found the right person to explore with. Harry listened intently, nodding along, his gaze fixed on her as if she were the only person in the world.

“What about you? What made you want to come on the show?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “Honestly? I wanted to step out of my comfort zone.” He paused, a soft smile forming. “So far. I am very interested”.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up at his compliment, her heart racing.

As the evening wore on, they exchanged teasing remarks, laughter bubbling between them. With each shared moment, Y/N felt a connection growing—a sense of camaraderie and understanding that she hadn’t felt in a while.

“Well,” Harry said after a while, pushing himself up from the chair, “I guess I’ll see you around”.

“Definitely,” she replied, her smile lingering as he walked away, a sense of excitement coursing through her.

The sun rises on another day in the villa, and it’s not just the temperature heating things up after last night’s new arrival. Our Islanders may have started with some clear choices, but Harry’s arrival has shaken things up... especially for Tom.

The villa was buzzing with morning energy as everyone moved around the kitchen, filling glasses with orange juice and grabbing breakfast. Y/N sat on a lounger, enjoying a quiet moment with her coffee before the day’s inevitable whirlwind of chats. She noticed Tom watching her from across the patio, looking a bit anxious. He made his way over, rubbing his hands together, as if trying to psych himself up.

Tom might have been Mr. Confident last week, but it looks like he’s feeling the heat now that Harry’s in the villa. Will Y/N’s current couple get through this twist unscathed, or will Tom’s nerves get the best of him?

“Morning, Y/N,” Tom greeted, taking a seat beside her. His usual relaxed smile seemed a bit forced today.

“Morning, Tom,” Y/N replied, sipping her coffee and meeting his gaze. She could sense he wanted to say something, and he looked like he was wrestling with the words.

“Listen,” he began, leaning forward. “Last night, with Harry showing up and all... It’s got me thinking. I just wanted to see where your head’s at.” His voice was steady, but she could sense the nervousness under it.

She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “I get it. It’s all moving fast, isn’t it? I mean, I didn’t expect someone like Harry to walk in and shake things up.”

Tom shifted in his seat, his gaze flicking between her and his hands. “Right. He’s... yeah, he’s something. But, uh... I just want to know if you’re, well, interested. In him. Like, romantically.”

She took a moment, carefully choosing her words. “Honestly, I’m not sure yet, Tom. Harry’s interesting, and he’s definitely got that confident energy. But I’m still figuring things out. I mean, you and I have had a great connection.”

Tom relaxed a little, his shoulders loosening as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I thought so too. We’ve been getting on really well. I just—well, I know how this place works. It’s all about testing things and seeing if connections are genuine, but…” He trailed off, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m getting left behind, you know?”

Y/N reached over, resting a hand on his knee to ease his nerves. “Look, Tom, I’m here to find something real, and I do want to see where we could go. But I also don’t want to close myself off from getting to know Harry. It’s early days, and I feel like it wouldn’t be fair to either of us to ignore a potential connection.”

And there we have it, folks. Y/N is caught between Tom’s steady interest and Harry’s unpredictable charm. With Tom hanging on by a thread, will Y/N let go or keep her options open?

Tom’s lips tightened, and he gave a small nod. “Fair enough. I can’t stop you from seeing where things go. I mean, you’re right—it is early days. Just… give me a heads-up if you start to feel like it’s going somewhere else, yeah?”

“Of course,” she assured him, offering him a warm smile. “I’ll always be honest with you, Tom. That’s a promise.”

He smiled, though it looked a bit forced, then let out a sigh, looking back towards the villa. “Right then. Just have to up my game a bit, won’t I?”

Y/N chuckled, nudging him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Just keep being you.”

But will that be enough, Tom? With Harry’s arrival in the villa, we might just see if Tom can hold his own—or if his steady confidence starts to crack.

After Tom walked off, Y/N settled back into her lounger, taking a slow sip of her coffee. The warmth of the morning sun was comforting, and she let herself enjoy the peace, though her mind kept drifting to Harry.

Across the patio, Harry was surrounded by a small group of girls, each one caught up in his easy charm. There was Georgia, always the first to get a word in; her dark hair bounced as she laughed at one of his jokes, flashing him a look that said she was more than intrigued. Beside her was Chloe, who toyed with her braid as she angled closer, her gaze fixed on him, and Lila, who had barely left his side since his arrival. They all hung on his every word, their laughter blending with his deep chuckles.

Y/N watched him, noticing the way he seemed effortlessly at ease, making each of the girls feel like they were the only ones there. He was charming, no doubt, and that little smirk of his told her he knew exactly what he was doing. There was something magnetic about him; he was the kind of person you couldn’t help but notice.

Then, as if sensing her gaze, Harry’s eyes lifted, meeting hers across the patio. The moment their eyes connected, a playful glint flickered in his. His smile softened, turning into that cheeky grin she was beginning to recognize. He said something to the girls that made them all laugh again, and then, with a quick apology, excused himself from the group.

Y/N’s heart gave a little jump as she saw him walking towards her, the confidence in his stride obvious as he crossed the patio. When he reached her, he didn’t sit right away. Instead, he leaned forward, his arms resting on the back of her lounger, his face close enough that she could catch the faint scent of the sea on his skin.

“Morning,” he said, his voice smooth, that smirk never leaving his lips. “Didn’t expect to catch you staring.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Staring? I was just observing… thought I’d get a better sense of what all the fuss is about.”

He chuckled, settling himself on the edge of her lounger without breaking eye contact. “Ah, so you were curious, then. Good to know I’ve got your attention, even if just a little.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “I was just checking to see if you were actually as charming as you think you are.”

He tilted his head, feigning contemplation. “And? What’s the verdict, then?”

She shrugged, pretending to consider it. “I think it’s too early to tell. But I’ll let you know if you manage to impress me.”

Harry leaned back, grinning. “Challenge accepted. I’m a big fan of keeping things interesting. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come over here to see if I could learn a bit more about you too.”

“Oh, really?” she teased, crossing her arms as she watched him. “So, the big mystery man’s got questions?”

“Maybe one or two.” His gaze softened, the playful edge giving way to a hint of sincerity. “Like, what exactly is a girl like you looking for in here?”

She held his gaze, considering her answer for a moment. “Honestly, someone genuine,” she said, her tone earnest. “It’s easy to get caught up in all the surface stuff, but I’m hoping to find something real. Something that lasts.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Right. Thought I’d take a risk, try something new.” His voice softened, a touch of vulnerability creeping in. “Been a while since I let anyone in.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade. She felt a spark, a warmth that hadn’t been there before, and she knew he felt it too.

“Alright then, Harry the risk-taker,” she said, breaking the silence with a playful smile. “Let’s see if you’re as good as you say.”

Harry’s cheeky grin returned, the playfulness back in his eyes. “Oh, you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of, Y/N.”

Looks like Y/N’s little morning coffee break has turned into something a bit more steamy than she bargained for. With Tom on edge and Harry moving in, she may have her hands full. So, who’s in it for the long haul? Stay tuned.

--> part 2

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 6

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: You and Matt discuss baby names and the future. Despite how happy you are with all the romance and support he's giving you, he struggles to open up about the difficult things in his past.

warnings: AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Pregnancy and discussion of having a baby.

Notes: Thank you for the patience, I'm back from hiatus for now. It's really frustrating to see this story keep going down in notes from week to week and people not respecting my rules about having their age in their bio. It's also frustrating when people asked to be tagged and then never hearing from them again. And people stealing the gifs I make for each chapter and posting on their own writing with no credit and not taking them down when I ask. It's all made me burn out and not want to participate in this fandom space anymore. So I needed the break. I'll keep writing for now, but if things don't get better, I don't know how much more I wanna do. Fandom spaces aren't ai content mills where you can just take and take and take and expect to not give anything more than a silly heart button that takes you less than a second to push. The things you love are made by real people who take real time to create this free thing that you get to enjoy. Creation takes time and if you want the blogs and writers and artists you love to keep making it, then you need to do better. Rant over.

w/c: 3,575

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

“How about Helen?” Matt suggested

“Ew, no. That was my freshman roommate’s name and she was not a nice person.”

Matt chuckled warmly as he continued to run his hand softly against your back. You were draped across his lap, face down, with your growing bump between his spread legs as he lulled you into relaxation. Just ten days into trimester #2, you had begun to “pop”; bulging belly only able to hide under baggy clothes now.

Colleen reacted exactly as you’d expected when you finally shared the news, smugly declaring she knew you and Matt were compatible but also overwhelmingly happy for you. All of Matt’s friends were ecstatic too. Kirsten immediately set up an appointment with her finance guy so you could figure out getting a college fund started. Karen dropped off a bag full of baby clothes to the apartment twice already and Foggy declared himself the baby’s godfather, Marlon Brando impersonation and all.

“Krystal?”

“Stripper name.” you replied with an eye roll

Matt scoffed, feigning offense at the implication of his suggestion of a name for your sweet unborn baby would certainly lead her to a future career of debauchery.

“How about Amelia?” you countered

Your face was pressed into the sofa but you didn’t need to see him to know that Matt scrunched his face up in disgust above you.

“I’ll consider it only because I love you.” he replied

I love you.

You could practically hear, and you’re pretty sure Matt could too, the real time stop of your blood flowing through your veins. You sat upright to face him, still a little stunned. Matt blankly stared at you with pitiful eyes like a sad abandoned puppy begging at your stoop to come inside from the rain. His mouth was quirked up to one side and his shoulders were practically at his ears with how tense he was. It was painted all across his face that he was clinging on to every clue your body was giving, hoping that just maybe if he listened a little harder, he’d be able to read your thoughts.

“You love me?”

“I— I thought it was obvious. Yeah?”

Say it back, you idiot! You already thought it! At least a dozen times! Why can’t you just say it back?! Damnit!

The sofa underneath you suddenly felt too lumpy, the air in the room too stifling. You felt like your throat was going to close up until oxygen couldn’t pass through and when you tried to swallow and clear it, it just felt drier than a desert. You hoped Matt couldn’t sense the way your palms had been getting more and more sweaty and how your heart sped up as soon as he said those words. Panicked, all you could think to do was lunge forward and kiss him fiercely, feeling him relax into your kiss as he brought his hands up to card through your hair.

“But you still hate Amelia?” you joked

“I really do, yeah.” he chuckled, dejection painted across his face at the fact you had made a joke of what he thought should be a romantic milestone in your relationship

You shifted to sit beside him and leaned your head into his strong bicep, unable to handle looking at his lugubrious expression any longer.

“Any other suggestions?” you asked softly, hoping that if you just ignored it, the awkwardness would go away

“I still like Margaret best. After my mother?”

“Still a no from me, considering I haven’t even met the woman yet. And I don’t love the little you’ve told me about her.”

Matt sighed.

“We’ll get there.”

“What’s the hold up?”

Maybe the hold up was you couldn’t even bare to tell him out loud how you were feeling yet, doofus.

“I told you about how my relationship with her is still complicated?”

“Yeah.”

“I just don’t know if this,” he reached across your body to rub at your bump “will make it better or worse.”

“You— have you even told her about me? Or the baby?”

Now it was your turn to be hurt. Was Matt really that ashamed of you and this life you were building that he couldn’t tell his mom? He rubbed at his temple and sighed again.

“No, I’ve been avoiding seeing her lately.” he replied

“Oh yeah, that’ll fix all your issues.”

Matt’s eyes practically rolled out of his head at your sarcasm.

“Sweetheart, she’s a nun. I just know I’m going to be told how ‘children are a blessing’ and what not. Which is always what she says about all the kids she works with in the orphanage. Meanwhile, she couldn’t even walk five blocks to be a parent to me.”

Your heart broke for Matt, knowing how becoming a father was bringing up all this harm from his past. Would his mom want any relationship with your child? Seeing her possibly love this baby in the way she couldn’t love Matt might devastate him. You didn’t want to put him through that pain, but you wanted your child to know her grandmother.

“Plus, I know how she feels about unwed mothers, considering that’s the only reason she left the church and married my dad. I was an oopsie which is a huge no-no for Catholics,” he continued “She will absolutely bring up us getting married and I do not want to get into it.”

“Oh yeah? I assume she’ll want us to have a big ol’ Catholic wedding too?” you teased, trying to snap Matt out of his rant

“Yeah, but I— wait. Do you? I mean, would you ever want to?”

“Have a three hour wedding with 300 people I barely know watching in a stuffy old building? Um, no.”

“I meant marry me.”

You didn’t quite tense up as much at this mention of marrying Matt like you did at the doctor’s. Warming up to the idea that you and Matt were indeed a serious thing and with the baby on the way, in it for the long haul. It felt too good to be true still. A life, an actual stable and committed life from a man who was proving to you every day he would be there for you.

Mostly.

Except when he missed the gender appointment. You still hadn’t forgiven him for that. But even so, he made you feel seen, special, and even sometimes like you were worthy of the romance and attention he gave you.

You nervously plucked at a pilling spot on the upholstery beneath you, contemplating how to respond.

“Ma- Maybe? I don’t know?” you stammered “I’ve never considered it. Marriage that is! Not about you, specifically. Or anyone for that matter…”

The clacking of his tongue and the way his brows furrowed together let you know that was not the answer he wanted to hear. Wow, you were really winning in the ‘breaking Matt’s heart’ category today.

“Let’s maybe focus on the baby and getting her here and settled.” you offered taking Matt’s hand in yours and placing it on your bump.

You hoped it helped Matt to know it wasn’t a no, but just not something you were ready to think about yet.

“Right.” he agreed “And pick a name that doesn’t suck.”

Matt cowered as you picked up a throw pillow and swung it at him, smacking it away with a giggle.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Your picks don’t suck!” he plead, taking the pillow from you and tossing it aside “But really sweetie, have you looked over the stuff the doctor gave you? We should be thinking about our birth plan.”

“Our!? You’re not the one squeezing a watermelon out of a straw.”

Matt held his hands up in surrender.

“The plan is,” you continued “Go to hospital. Give birth. Fin.”

Matt rolled his eyes, leaning back on the couch and casually throwing his arm back around you.

“Har, har.” he replied sarcastically

“We’ve got time and right now I’m craving pretzels and peanut butter from that German deli in Midtown, so I can’t exactly think straight.”

“What about a home birth? In a birthing pool? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable here?”

“Drugs. Matthew. I need drugs.”

“Yeah? You don’t want to try a natural—”

“Watermelon. Straw.” you said firmly

“Right.”

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you in to a calming hug. Any reservations you gave him tonight clearly weren’t going to hold him back from still giving you his all.

“Whatever happens, I just want you and the baby healthy.”

“Me too.” you agreed

Those three little words you could feel were growing inside you and dancing in the wings ready to make their debut. Even with talk of marriage and him confessing it first, you couldn’t find the strength to say them yet.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes as he continued to hold you.

“Matt?” you asked sheepishly, cutting through the peacefulness

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt nodded, standing up and grabbing his keys and wallet to head up to the German deli.

Another perk of dating a successful and popular lawyer was all the former clients he’d built relationships with, many of whom were happy to welcome Matt into their homes and lives as a thank you for all he did for them. Which is how you ended up at a prime table in the Upper West Side’s most popular restaurant on a busy Saturday night, with a complimentary appetizer and dinner already in your stomach. You were currently staring down an enormous slice of cake sitting on the plate in front of you that the waitress just dropped off. The head chef was a former client of Matt’s who he’d helped in a workers comp case and told him to ‘swing by any time’ for the best meal in town. Boy was he right.

“Hnnggg” the sounds you were making were downright pornographic, pregnancy hormones amplifying the taste of every thing. And right now, this chocolate cake was beyond indulgent.

“Am I at least going to get a bite?” Matt asked with a chuckle

You threateningly waved your fork in his direction as you ran your tongue along your teeth inside your mouth to ensure you tasted every single crumb.

The restaurant was cozy and down to earth, despite how decadent their dishes were. A South American and Italian infusion spot with moody lighting and enough nooks and crannies that your booth was incredibly private. Matt had been nursing a whiskey (also comped by the kitchen) all night and was more laid back than you’d seen him in a while.

You took another sip of your mocktail, preparing for another bite of the heaven-sent dessert.

“You never finished your story. What happened to Foggy and the girl from Punjabi 101?”

“Oh, she moved back to California and married her cousin.”

“You’re joking!”

You loved when Matt laughed, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes behind his glasses and his damn adorable smile beaming through the dark room.

“Nope. Broke Foggy’s heart. But it was for the best. He never would have gotten with Marcy if she’d stayed.”

“Did he take it the next term? Or drop it since she wasn’t around?”

“Oh no, he took it all 3 years of law school.”

“Has it ever once come in handy?”

“Nope.”

Your threw your head back in laughter, unable to control how amusing you found the story. Matt shook his head as if he was remembering many more stories he wasn’t saying out loud from his and Foggy’s yesteryears.

“Wow, so you and Foggy have been friends since law school?” you inquired

“Yeah, it’s why we started our firm together. He’s the best of the best and there’s no one I’d rather work with.”

“And he’s the reason you stopped, you know, your night job?”

Matt scowled at your question, fidgeting in his seat as he thought of his response. There was a look of melancholy on his face and it reminded you of how he looked when you’d had the conversation about his mother.

“Yes. He— he never liked that part of me. But he’d grown to accept it over the years.”

“And then?”

A despondent sigh left Matt’s lips as he brought his glass to his perfectly pouty lips and downed the rest of his whiskey. You regretted dampening the mood with such a sore subject. But you were curious. There was still so much about his life he hadn’t shared.

“He got hurt. He nearly died. His heart even stopped, I heard it. And it was my fault. Being Daredevil put the people I care about the most at risk.”

“What happened?”

Matt shook his head, waving his hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’ll ruin the evening. Foggy’s mostly fine now. And I’m not him anymore.”

“And you’re happy about that? To not be him anymore?”

“I’m happy to not complicate my life any more than it already is.”

You stared at your now empty plate, wondering if Matt would ever want to go back to his vigilante life. It was compelling to you when you first discovered his secret, already finding Matt appealing just as the lawyer who bantered with you at work. But the danger of it all made him even sexier in your eyes; the double life, the rumors you’d heard about the type of people he hurt, the outfit. Now you just worried if there were people out there who still wanted revenge for all the years he spent keeping the city safe. Would they ever come after you or the baby?

“I can tell you why I started though.” Matt offered, a tinge of positivity in his voice as he leaned back in his chair

“Yeah?”

“When the accident happened, I was overwhelmed with it all. My hearing, sense of smell, all of it became sharper. I used to just lay awake in bed at night hearing so many sirens throughout the city. Then right after law school, I was in my first apartment. It was a real shit hole of a place. They don’t pay law interns well.”

You smiled at the thought of Matt in his early 20s, probably just as handsome but also adorable and awkward.

“Anyway, I heard it from down the block. A little girl. Her father was coming into her room at night after her mother had gone to bed.”

“Jesus. And you went right over to beat the shit out of the guy?”

“No, no. I did what you’re supposed to do; called the cops, filed a CPS report. But the asshole was clever, he did it in a way that didn’t leave a mark. I had spent the last 7 years in school and studying for the bar to use the system to help people. But then when it wasn’t working, I felt helpless. The law couldn't do anything to help that little girl. But I could. I knew his routine. Waited till he was alone.”

“Please tell me you killed the bastard.”

“No. I don’t kill. Catholic, remember?”

That fact surprised you a little. The stories throughout the city only told of Daredevil’s rage. You admired that Matt could keep it under control enough to not end a life.

“But last I heard” he continued “he’s still eating through a straw.”

Staring over at Matt quietly for a moment, you reached across the table to place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. The way he had a sort of moral code made you proud and confirmed all that he had shown you so far; that he was a good man and would help raise your child to be a decent human. But the faltering in his voice when he said it made you think it might not be that simple.

“I didn’t realize it was an accident either.” you remarked “I just kind of assumed you’d always been blind.”

“No. I was 9 when it happened. The last thing I saw was my Dad.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of his father. From hints and passing comments in previous conversations, you knew Jack was very important to Matt. While you respected that he viewed him as a hero, you held a little bit of resentment towards the man for how he left this world. His stupid pride robbed Matt of a life with his dad in it and made much of his son’s life more difficult than it needed to be. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the aftermath of loosing him and the effects of it on a poor child. How the tragedy reverberated through Matt to this day and shaped nearly everything about him. All the more reason you were happy that Matt was not going out as Daredevil anymore. He told you he didn’t want to repeat his parents mistakes. He didn’t want this baby to loose her father.

“Is he who taught you to fight?” you asked “I mean, you didn’t just go out as the Devil one night with no skills. He was a boxer right?”

“Yeah. But he didn’t teach me. My dad wanted me to stay out of the ring, get my education and make something of myself. Stick taught me to fight.”

“Stick? Was that like a video game or?”

“Stick was a person. A person who I’m very glad is not around to force his way into our baby’s life.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“That’s also a conversation for another time.”

You rolled your eyes. You really didn’t appreciate all the stonewalling from Matt tonight. He had demons, who didn’t? But trusting you with that information would only improve your ability to raise this baby together.

“We should head home, it’s getting late.”

The air was crisp as you walked arm and arm down the side walk, taking your time to saunter home and enjoy this cozy date night. You couldn’t help but glance over at Matt, his muscular figure and handsome face accentuated by the harsh shadows cast over him from the streetlights and general city glow.

“What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

He must have felt you staring.

“No.” you answered sheepishly

“Then what is it?”

“You just look really handsome tonight, that’s all.”

“Ah, so you’re ogling me?” he teased

“Oh stop. I can’t admire how attractive my boyfriend is?”

“Only if we talk about how beautiful you are tonight.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. The dress you’re wearing is silky, hugs your body close. I liked the way it felt when I helped you zip it up; cool against your soft skin. And I can tell you feel great in it cause you’re walking a little firmer, a little more confident than normal.”

“Yeah, but that’s not—”

“You smell great too,” he cut you off “I really like the new perfume you got.”

“Matt, I—”

“And your laugh — God! I could listen to it on a loop and not get tired of it.”

You could feel the flush rising in your cheeks. Was that really how Matt ‘saw’ you? Sure, you’d allow him touch your face from time to time, content to let him memorize every curve under his finger tips to get an idea of what you looked like. But he really payed attention to all the little details that you didn’t even think about to paint a picture of you.

“And I know it not just me, baby. There were a lot of hearts that sped up when we walked through the restaurant.”

“I’m 15 weeks pregnant, they were probably just thinking about what a whale I look like.”

The way he pursed his lips at your comment distracted you from how his hand was creeping up, reaching under your jacket to give you a tickle.

“Hey!” you giggled “Matty!”

He relented, broad grin clearly delighted by your reaction. His hand found yours, pulling you close to kiss you, still laughing into your lips as he did.

"I love you." he affirmed

"I know."

"Ah, the Han Solo. Classic." he teased, happy to still give you the space you needed until you were ready to say it back

“You’re trouble, Murdock.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause all I wanted to do was go home and groan about how full I am from dinner. But now you’re making me want to go home and be full of something else.”

Matt quirked up his eyebrows at your forwardness, mind running through all the possibilities you had in mind.

“I guess I’m the good kind of trouble then?”

You rolled your eyes as you kissed him again. Matt’s arm slipped around your waist, holding you close. Though you flinched a little at the movement, worried he might tickle you again. His other hand roamed down your curves, coming to rest on your bottom and giving it a flirty squeeze.

“Matthew! We’re in public.”

“Oh come on sweetheart, I’m listening closely and no one’s on the block right now. We could hide in that door way and—”

Matt paused suddenly, eyes darting back and forth behind his glasses. He did that thing when he heard something, tilting his head like a dog to a whistle. You hated when he did that, your anxiety rising wondering if he just heard a car honk or something more sinister.

“What? Matt, what is it?”

Matt didn’t answer, keeping both hands on your waist as he stepped back and squatted down.

“I can hear it.” he finally spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Hear what?”

“The baby. I can hear her heartbeat. It’s faint. And fast. But it’s there.”

NEXT CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts @laaadygisbooornex3 @ninacotte @uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705 @endofthelinegang @buckyssugarchick @hellskitchenswhore @pixviee @themikkapika @bisexualbith @labellapeaky @theoraekenslover @sexyvixen7 @tanyaherondale @marysucks-blog @0callme-mimi @aesthetic0cherryblossom @livewaspsblog @lokifae42 @plutosbear

[fireheartpages]

other plans | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one. series masterlist summary: everyone has their demons, you just chose to run from yours. straight to basgiath war college. and definitely not towards the grinning tall, dark, and handsome marked rider that seemed too kind to be in a hardened place like the rider's quadrant. word count: 2.1k ish notes: second person pov but i give the reader a nickname (that i stole from dirty dancing) and a last name bc i'm not using y/n and i want this to be readable. she/her pronouns used for reader. this has been stuck in my head and i thought i was gonna combust if i didn't get it on page. and it's all together hovering somewhere around 7k words so im gonna split it up and post it all within the next few days and then have the whole thing available on ao3! i haven't written fanfiction in at least a good six months, and i've never written for fourth wing, so bare with me a little--i tried my best. i have a chronic attachment to side characters with little to no page time. half of this was written while wine tipsy and all of it was proofread while wine drunk, so we die like men

Bodhi has never seen someone walk across the parapet so easily.

He's never seen someone make a dance out of it. As if it were a show, a production. Your feet are so confident, so sure with every step, every placement that you would make it to the next. It's pouring rain and windy as all hell, and yet you make the parapet look like a children's balance beam.

You land right in front of him, and by the time your eyes meet his, he's already decided that he needs to know everything he possibly can about you. The instant your focus lands on him, he's obsessed.

Garrick has other plans.

"Name?"

"Baby," you say, and Bodhi blinks. "Marho."

Garrick is downright gawking at you. "Baby?"

Something that sounds much more like a name and not what an infant is called slips out on a laugh, and Bodhi can't help but trace the lean lines of your neck. Holy shit. If he thought you were pretty before, it was dwarfed to the sound of your laugh. The sun had to fight for space when you smiled.

"Sorry. Childhood nickname, I forget I have another one sometimes."

"Did your parents nickname you after a hooker?" Garrick asks, jotting your name--the true one--on the roll.

"Did yours raise you to be a dick?" you ask, not missing a beat, and the boy's gaze snaps up to you. If Bodhi had been looking anywhere else, his would have too, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of you since the moment you stepped foot onto the parapet. He felt his brow shoot up, lips parting on a huff.

He bursts out laughing.

You don't move. Don't take your eyes from Garrick, from staring him down, until he tips his head in inclination and gives something that sounds like an apology. It's Bodhi's turn to be the subject of your scrutiny now, and as your eyes trace his shape, shifting with the weight of your gaze and his laugh, he senses more than sees the moment you note his rebellion relic. Your face doesn't shift, but it's as if a proverbial file is created and tucked away into the archive of your mind.

You didn't say anything else as you walk away from the two boys, but Bodhi tracks you as you go. Tracks your movements, as you weave through the crowd with a practiced grace, how your hair moves as you take the stairs down and out of his sight.

He's almost sorry to see you go. But he's determined to see you again.

Bodhi snatches the roll sheet from Garrick as parapet comes to an end, scanning to make sure he has the name correct. He marches up to Xaden, and only pausing for a moment to consider how stupid this is--he literally doesn't know a single thing about you--before throwing your name into the space between them.

"I want her in my section."

"Don't you have better things to do than flirt with children?" Xaden asks impassively.

"She's not a literal baby."

"I'm aware of that," he responds, sounding exasperated. "You're an Executive Officer, Bodhi. Do what you want."

Except Dain Aetos has other plans.

You made friends. You stand with the Sorrengail girl and another he didn't recognize, tucking loose strands of hair back into her coronet braid. What type of person fixed the hair of someone they'd just met? You, apparently.

You're in Second Wing. With Aetos and Sorrengial and the other girl. This is fine. Something about you didn't scream "secret rebel" the way wanted it too.

And then Xaden transfers your squad to Fourth Wing. He had sent Bodhi a glance as he put the squad in Flame section--not Tail--and Bodhi could see there was some sort of ulterior motive behind the decision. It did also mean you weren't under his direct chain of command. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing

Fraternization is frowned upon, not forbidden, after all.

Not that you would be fraternizing. After all.

But, challenging you would be a terrible idea. Terribly adverse, fatally cataclysmic, and ill-fated.

And all of those words mean the same thing.

He would stay clear, watch you from afar, and maybe, maybe work up the courage to talk to you outside of parapet. Possibly.

His confidence needed some serious shaping. Since when was he afraid to talk to someone? A pretty someone, to say the least. He was a gods damned dragon rider. He wasn't afraid to talk to you. He was just... hesitant.

Yeah. That. And he did not need a challenge to break the ice.

Emetterio has other ideas.

He calls your name, then Bodhi's, and Bodhi is pretty sure his heart stops in his chest.

You don't look frazzled or scared, just curious as you study him from head to toe. He guards himself as if you were an intruder in his mind, an Inntinnsic slipping in to spill all his secrets. Except you're an unbounded first year that hasn't even developed a signet, and instead that's just you. He's building up walls just to look at you. You and those bright, keen eyes.

Emetterio calls it, and you're off. Except neither of you move. You pace around, and it's a stand off. You cock your head, and Bodhi tries every trick in the book: the fakes out, glances quickly off to the side, purposefully stumbles--and you're unfazed. Completely and utterly unfazed.

He can't make the first move. He can't hit you--

Suddenly, his feet are out from under him, and he's staring at the ceiling, and you lunge, reaching to pin him to the floor. He reaches out and catches the elbow you throw, but before he can even make contact, you twist, sliding underneath him, and suddenly you're behind him.

You're fast. Really fucking fast. And suddenly, Bodhi has his work cut out for him.

You kick out again, going to the back of his knees, and he recognizes the move, thrusting his body forward to keep control and twisting before he lands, kipping up so you're eye-level again.

Your first catches his nose, and blood goes flying. He makes the mistake of bringing his hands up to cup his nose and it leaves his core exposed. You take the opportunity to land a knee in his gut, probably bruising a few ribs in there, and he doubles over, the wind having been knocked from him. Holy shit, he needs to get at least one hit in. This was getting embarrassing.

He swings blindly, and you dodge--but you don't grab his fist. And you had the perfect opportunity to. You were fast, and your reflexes were quick, but you didn't know how to end this. The realization crashes into him as you swing again. A lot of force, but no follow-though, giving him the perfect opportunity to deflect, pushing your fist and forcing the follow-through until you were swinging behind him with his hand around your wrist and then he was bringing you to him, one of his arms gripping one of yours across your neck, and the other twisting your other behind your back. Like this, your body was flush against his.

You struggle, kicking out, but it was all too easy for him to get your feet out from under you. You weren't small by any means, but Bodhi was bigger, and had a year of training over you. Your feet kicked out, and all he had to do was lean back to incapacitate you. You gave a frustrated grunt that so heavily affected him that he almost dropped you to make sure you were okay before he realized where he was and what he was doing.

"Finish her without making a fool of yourself, please," Cuir chimes in, probably sensing his hesitation and near-miss, and Bodhi sends an eye roll he hopes he can feel, since he doesn't have the brain space to say anything back, with your body pressed against his and the current task at hand.

He twists and take you both to the ground, pinning both your hands above your head, and taking a leg beneath his foot, balancing on a knee. You let out a sharp huff, and he's mesmerized by the way your nose scrunches up in determination. Your free leg goes to knee him, and he takes the hit, leaning into it before transferring your hands so they're both pinned between one of his, sliding one hand down your hip and to your thigh, holding it to the gourd before you can knee him again. He has a free knee to hold him up, but not without giving leverage to one of your legs. So he's pressed against you, hip to hip, face to face.

"Yield," he says, begs, because he can't hold this for long, and because if you figure out just how much you affect him, you'd win this thing in a matter of heartbeats.

"No," you grind out, thrashing. He's spread thin: his wingspan practically encompassing your body, giving you leverage to wear against him. He worries for a moment, a flash of the bruise he could leave on your thigh going through his mind, and two thoughts overtake him at once.

One, that he doesn't want to hurt you. And that while it may be inevitable with where you two stood, he wanted to try and eliminate the possibility as best he could.

Two, that he would leave bruises all up and down your thighs if he ever got the chance to get between them.

And the combination of the two of those thoughts loosened his grip on you, giving you the opportunity to roll away.

"I did not choose someone this negligent," Cuir snaps, and Bodhi panicks, and now you're pinned underneath him again, his front pressed to your backside, and it's a true plea when he breathes, "Yield."

"No!" You squirm, and fuck stop doing that--

"Get yourself together!" Cuir snaps, and Bodhi sucks in a sharp breath.

"That's enough," Emetterio says, pinning you with a look Bodhi would pick dragon fire over. "Know when to quit, Cadet Marho."

"No!" you yelp. "If this were a real fight, no one is calling the shots--"

"If this was a real fight, you'd be dead. I called it. Get off the mat," Emetterio snaps, and Bodhi scrambles off of you.

He offered you a hand that you send a pointed look at, and he can tell you're considering telling him where to shove it, but you take it anyway, and he walks you off the mat with a hand on your shoulder.

"Good match," Bodhi says, genuinely trying.

You open your mouth to respond, looking like you yourself could spit fire for a second, and Bodhi pities the dragon you end up bonded to for a moment.

"You're fast," he continues, before you can. "Quick reflexes, and you're strong."

"I had you," you throw at him, fiery and determined, and your gaze slips to his rebellion relic.

Oh. So, that's what this is about.

Bodhi shakes his head, and the grin that had been blooming falters. "I can help," he says. "If you're struggling with sparring, I can help."

You suck in a breath.

"Or Imogen. Or Xaden. Or--" he stops, because, fuck, obviously you don't want to be near Marked ones--

"Thank you," you say, and the ghost of the smile he saw after the parapet makes a reappearance. "Thank you."

And with that, you turn and leave, heading back to your squad. Rhiannon is shaking her head at you, and Violet mumbles something that makes you laugh. Bodhi would bottle that sound if he could. What the hell was a countering signet for? His signet should be used for bottling the sound of your laugh--

"Do not finish that thought," Cuir chides. "Get a grip."

Bodhi grins, his hair falling over his temple as Garrick comes up and slaps him on the back, congratulations on a challenge well fought. He watches you take a swig from the water canteen, traces the lines of your jaw down to your shoulder until you hand it back, then traces the length of your wrist as you hand it--

"Pathetic." Cuir. "You haven't spoken."

"We kind of did," Bodhi says mentally. "I offered. I... tried."

"If you like her, try harder," he chides, and Bodhi sighs.

He doesn't like you, he barely knows you.

"Sure."

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Six) (18+) / SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 8.3k / navigation / inbox / summer of series

A/N: another very late installment! I am really, truly sorry that it has taken me this long to update this series. it's very near and dear to my heart but unfortunately I was just having a very hard time with my life and there wasn't much motivation for me to write anything. but i'm back and better than ever, and you can check out my 'summer of series' to see more upcoming content! thank you to those who waited, and welcome to any new readers <3 this is our longest chapter yet :o

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Plowing through pizza has never been easier than it is now, because you’re so intent on stuffing your mouth full to impede your ability to answer prying questions that your lunch is gone in a matter of minutes. You consider swiping from Jake’s plate considering he’s taken at least ten percent of your lunch every day for as long as you’ve known him, but reciprocating any of this ‘love’ that Danica deludes may not work in your favor. 

You’re left to sit awkwardly back in your chair, no food to eat while the rest of your companions finish theirs at a reasonable pace. 

It’s noticeable, because everyone else is still making their way through pizza that’s thinner and stiffer than it should be, but not altogether bad. Jake and Daniel both side-eye you, but Daniel shifts forwards as he notices pizza sauce smeared over your cheek.

“Y/N, you’ve got-”

“I got it.” Jake cuts in, reaching out and nearly smacking you in the jaw in an effort to get his thumb over the stain. You jerk away, startled, but Jake already has red sauce on the pad of his thumb that he’s offering to you like you’re going to suck it off.

“Want it?” He grins, and your lips remain firmly sealed as you shake your head no.

“Fine, picky.” Jake shrugs, raising his hand to his mouth and taking his thumb between his lips himself. You watch as he sucks the pizza sauce off of his finger for longer than he needs to, eyes fixed so intently on yours that you’re almost certain he would rather be licking it directly off of your cheek.

You’re glad he hadn’t- you’d have smacked him with how wound up you are. You feel like a prey animal, cornered and shaking with nerves that could morph into aggression at a moment’s notice.

You turn back to your empty plate, ignoring the way that Jake tips a half-eaten piece of pizza your way.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about cooties.” Jake raises a brow, “We accidentally used the same towel once after the beach.”

“And I showered twice when I got home to clean myself.” You recall the incident with grave resignation, remembering the look on Phoenix’s face when she’d spotted the sherbet stain on the corner of the towel you were wearing, one that Jake had put there earlier, just after his own shower. You’re not surprised he’s still bringing it up- just one more thing to needle you with, but you wish he wouldn’t.

“More for me.” He acquiesces, voice almost awkward before he takes another bite, and you look at Danica to see if she’s noticed only to find that she’s staring hard at Jake already.

Interesting.

You don’t know how to fill awkward silences with Jake, because there almost never are any. You’re too used to his loud, brash voice that once he gives in and rolls over, a sight you’ve rarely ever seen before, you feel unequipped to talk. You don’t talk to Jake- or you barely ever do, you mostly quip. And tease, and jab, and rib, and mock. Everything’s a dogfight with him, and the first to run out of bullets crashes and burns.

Jake’s not the type to crash and burn.

“I’m done.” Daniel leans back in his chair, a hand slung lazily over his stomach, “I think cruises are bad for me. I always overeat.”

“We could walk,” Danica suggests, “There’s some shops a few decks above us.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about the shops,” You scoff, feeling Jake’s shit-eating grin despite refusing to look at him, “I’m not interested, thank you.”

You expect pushback from Jake, but what you don’t expect is Danica, who seems to be making it her sacred mission to force you out of your comfort zone.

“Oh, come on. Please? You can shop with me.” She promises, reaching out a hand adorned with a delicate golden bracelet, “We can leave the boys behind.”

You’re still wary about her insistence into butting into your rivalry with Jake, but you wonder if perhaps she doesn’t want to be alone with Daniel the same way you don’t want to be alone with Jake. Maybe there’s pressure there that she can’t handle, or maybe there’s not and she doesn’t want to face the implications. 

You’d think signing up for a sex cruise would really take the emotional turmoil out of having sex.

“They’ll kill each other,” you take her hand, letting her squeeze yours tight, “And we can’t get new roommates so that’d really take the fun out of the whole sex cruise thing.”

“We can start at the candy shop,” She grins, tugging you to your feet, “I owe my niece some gummy bears.”

Danica reaches for her purse, a sweet baby blue over-the-shoulder bag that Daniel gently pushes her hand away from.

“I’ve got it.” He offers, smiling up at the both of you, “You two just have fun browsing and I can hold whatever you get.”

There’s an unmistakable grin on Danica’s face that she turns around to hide, something akin to a giddy schoolgirl at Daniel’s chivalry. It’s sweet, admittedly, but what’s less sweet is the way that Jake makes a grab for your own bag, already hooked over your shoulder.

“Gimme that.”

“What- no!” You scoff, stumbling backwards to avoid his grip, “That’s my bag!”

“I’m trying to carry it for you.” Jake insists, as stubborn as a mule, “Let go!”

“You’re mugging me!” You shriek, dragging Danica along with you when you finally wriggle out of his grip and making a mad dash for other side of the deck, “Danica, if we can make it to the stairs we can push him overboard!”

She giggles as you two run across the deck, probably something you shouldn’t be doing considering you’re poolside and adults, but something you do giddily anyways. Daniel and Jake jog to keep up, and neither wants to be around each other, but both want to be first to reach you. This means they keep pace, and when you pass a netted-in basketball court, your head turns to watch the players.

They’re nice to ogle. There’s men and women, but your eyes are drawn towards a particularly muscled man, tall and thick around the arms and thighs. He has your attention until he fully misses a shot, feet away from the basket, and you and Danica cringe in unison.

“He had me until that throw.” Danica admits, trying not to laugh so as not to attract any attention and hurt the man’s feelings, “Can you boys do better than that?”

It’s such clear bait that you assume both men will scoff at her, tease her for wanting to see their sweaty muscles and continue towards the interior door. Instead, Danica’s purse is handed rather unceremoniously back to her and Jake strips of his shirt. He doesn’t need to, but he does. Of course.

“I can run laps around him.” Jake vows, beelining for the entrance to the court while Daniel takes his flip-flops off for better leverage.

“Just sit and watch.” Daniel grins, pointing towards benches opposite the court, “Get some sun, and we’ll show you how it’s really done.”

“Men are dumb,” You sigh, watching the two you’re stuck with integrate themselves into the game already going, “They couldn’t tell that was on purpose?”

“Jake wants to show off for you. And Daniel, too.”

“They wants to show off for you, too.” You level her with a look that’s half exasperated, half self-conscious, “I’m not- I’m not trying to steal him away from you. Daniel, that is. You can have Jake- no returns.”

Danica grins, her smile glowing, “I’m not angry that Daniel likes you. I like you too. I just think you’re stupid.”

“Thank you.” You nod, hoping the conversation ends there. You turn towards the court, trying to track Daniel’s movement among the crowd, but latching onto Jake instead. He towers over most of the men on the court, and with his military muscles, most of them have no chance.

“I’m- sorry. For pushing. I just think,” Her voice takes on a wistful note, “I think you two could really be soulmates if you tried.”

“Soulmates don’t try,” You laugh, “That’s the whole point. They’re intrinsically made for each other. Perfect from the get-go.”

“You are made perfect for each other. You’re just acting stupid.” She clarifies, “You’re both stubborn, but that means you’ll match wits with him. He wouldn’t want someone who just gives in every time.”

“That’s certainly what he’s wanted in the past,” You scoff, “Woman after woman after woman who doesn’t bother to save herself from the most obviously sleazy pilot in the bar.”

“That’s why he never sees them again,” She nods, “Because they only satisfied him short-term. Men mature slower than women, did you know that? They’re still figuring things out, bless them. I think he’s starting to realize that hookups aren’t sustainable, and that he wants something long-term. And that’s not to say you can’t resent his dating history,” Danica gives you a meaningful glance, “I can understand why you would be slow to trust him. But he’s trying. He backed off at lunch, right?”

“Right before he tried to steal my purse.” You grumble, despite knowing she’s right. But still, attributing his uncharacteristic lack of an argument to love- that’s a notion you don’t want to even begin digesting.

“Men are dumb.” She reminds you, “I think he’s trying to show you that he’s changed, and that his ideals have too. You just need to let him. Give him a chance.”

“I’ve given him plenty of chances before,” You sigh, world-weary as you watch Daniel snake the ball from Jake, “How many is too many?”

“You might not know until you get hurt.” Danica levels with you, placing her hand atop yours once more, “But you won’t know how many it takes to work, either. Just- be casual.”

“Casual.” You raise a brow at her, “With Jake? He’s incapable of being casual about anything. Even when he tries you can see the muscles in his neck about to pop.”

“Yeah, I saw him almost jump Daniel in the pool.” She admits, watching as Jake slam-dunks the ball despite three pairs of hands clawing at him, attempting to slow or stop him, “Has he ever started a fistfight before?”

“He’s not- mean. Not like that, not- he’s classy, I guess.” It’s a word you wouldn’t normally attribute to Jake, but he doesn’t go around starting fights like a teenage boy, “He swears up and down he’s a southern gentleman.”

“A gentleman!” Danica laughs, “A gentleman who was staring at your ass in that bathing suit, earlier.”

“I figured. Whatever,” You shrug, “I chose it because it makes my ass look nice. It’s not Jake’s fault we ran into each other, I guess.”

“That’s why I’m sure you’re soulmates,” Danica confesses, “The same cabin, on the same sex cruise? And you hate each other? I see some sweet, sweet angry sex in your future.”

You laugh, despite yourself. You let yourself get carried away in girly giggles, and seeing the warmth in her expression makes a twinge of guilt flare up in your chest about the way you’d snapped at her earlier.

“Hey, I’m- sorry. I’m really sorry for freaking out on you earlier, Danica.” You murmur, eyes downcast as your smile fades, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, if I did.”

“It’s okay.” Despite the way your face had dropped, hers only grows more tender, “I understand. Like I said, I shouldn’t have pushed. But I hope you know I’m not trying to make your life harder. I suppose I don’t have any business butting in, I just see two people that are afraid to be vulnerable around each other despite maybe having the capacity to love each other for eternity.”

You glare at her from beneath your lashes, and she throws up her hands in mock-surrender, “I said maybe!”

“Eternity is a long time.” You muse, focusing again on the basketball scrimmage happening before you. The nets blur your vision, but it’s clear that the men are working up a sweat. Jake makes another basket, and you notice desperation in the way that Daniel lunges for it after it falls.

It’s not his fault- navy men just do it better.

“That’s why destiny gave you a free trial.” Danica grins, “This week, you don’t have to wear your heart on your sleeve. He won’t, either. Just- be casual, like I said. Be receptive, I’m not asking you to fall all over him, just- watch him. Notice him. Look at what he does and think about why he does it. Yes, he did try to liberate your purse from your shoulder earlier like he was getting at your wallet. But he did it because Daniel did it for me much more gracefully a few seconds before. He’s trying simple things: sharing food, holding bags-” She grins conspiratorially at you, “Five bucks says he’ll try to hold the door for you when we go inside later. He’s testing the waters, okay? He’s trying to change, but like I said before, he’s afraid of being vulnerable around you just the same as you are around him, even if he doesn’t seem like it.”

“How do you know all of this?” You ask her, eyes narrowed as you study her from across the bench, “Are you some sort of all-seeing eye?”

“I asked him,” She blinks, simple as that, “And I’m not going to share everything he said, because I think it’ll come better from him, but I can at least tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that he’s trying. Just- be gentle with him, okay? Let him try.”

“He can try,” Your voice is weak as you watch Jake sink a third shot, “But I can’t guarantee I’ll care.”

“That’s okay. You’re afraid of him hurting you, he’s afraid he’s already hurt you too much. If you don’t want to be with him, that’s fair. Just give him one more chance.”

“One more.” You sigh, “But not for him. For you.”

“I’m glad I met you, Y/N,” Danica smiles, standing from the bench and offering you a hand, “Now, let’s get them out of there before they start punching each other.”

Jake and Daniel are, in fact, facing off. Daniel shoves roughly at Jake’s chest but he stands shorter than his opponent, so it looks almost comical when Jake doesn’t move an inch. His strong thighs keep him steady, and his eyes blaze with a challenge.

“Jake!” You call, but both heads turn your way, “Guys- let’s go shopping.”

“Fine.” Daniel grunts, elbowing past Jake towards the entrance to the court. You’re sure Jake has thoroughly gotten on his nerves- you know the feeling, but something about the way his tensed muscles make him look like a coiled spring makes you gravitate towards Jake instead.

“What did you do to him? He looks like he might punch someone in the face.”

“Yeah, me.” Jake redresses himself, fixing the asymmetrical waistband of his shorts and putting his shirt back into place, “He’s just mad he’s too short to dunk.”

“Poor Danica.” You hum as Daniel stalks three steps ahead of her, “I’m gonna walk with her.”

Jake doesn’t provide any arguments when you rush to catch up with your newfound friend.

“Men are scary when they’re angry.” You nudge your side against hers, speaking in a hushed whisper “Did he say anything to you?”

“No, but he’s sure not offering to hold my purse anymore,” Danica grins, “Men are so dramatic.”

“It’s part of our charm, ladies.” Jake pushes between you, gentler than Daniel would have done in his angered state, “And it seems Danny-boy has neglected his manly duties, so I’ll take this,” Jake plucks Danica’s purse carefully off of her shoulder, “And can I please hold your bag too, princess?”

“Thank you for not tackling me this time,” You glare at Jake, letting him sling your tote over the same shoulder Danica’s bag hangs from, “See? When you’re nice to women they like you.”

“Some of ‘em like me mean.” Jake shrugs, “But you lure more flies with honey, I guess..”

Jake watches Daniel push his way through the doors, and makes a grand gesture out of catching them before they can close and holding them open for the pair of you.

You owe Danica five bucks.

“After you, ladies.” Jake says, loud enough for Daniel to hear. It only tightens the muscles in his shoulders, and it makes you slow your pace, putting even more distance between you and him. 

Jake doesn’t realize until he’s already slamming into you from behind, and he steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, “Woah! Sorry. I thought you’d be beelining for the sex shop. What’s the holdup?”

Danica shoots him a lethal glare over her shoulder, and tugs you closer to her side.

“We are beelining for the sex shop,” She announces, and Daniel seems to remember he has company as he slows down, chest heaving with adrenaline, or rage, or indignance, or whatever Jake has injected into his veins, “We are going to have a lingerie fashion show and there are no boys allowed.”

“No, come on! I can squeeze in the dressing room with you guys! I’ll fit!” Jake protests, but you level him with a stern glare.

“If you come into the dressing room, you’re putting on a thong.” You warn him, but nothing can rattle Jake Seresin.

“No part of me would fit in a thong,” Jake declares, herding you all towards the elevators, “Front, back, wherever- I’ve got too much goin’ on down there.”

“A bra, then.” You counter, walking backwards into the empty elevator and letting your back hit the wall, “You’ve got a bigger chest than I do.”

“If that’s what tickles your fancy,” Jake shrugs, your bag and Danica’s pressed against the wall of the elevator as he plants himself opposite you, faced away from the doors, “Everybody’s got their thing. If yours is me in a bra, so be it.”

Danica giggles. Daniel presses the button for the floor that you need.

“I’d send it to the rest of the daggers.” You threaten, hearing the doors slide shut behind Jake, “Rooster would show Mav. Phoenix would obliterate you.”

“Don’t spread it around, it’s for your eyes only.” Jake scoffs as the elevator begins its ascent, “Keep it in your spank bank, Y/N.”

Instead of lifting five floors, the elevator only moves one. The doors open again, and Daniel groans almost inaudibly at the sight he’s met with. You peer around Jake’s side to see- a lot of people. There’s a lot of people trying to board the elevator, and you pair off, parting like the red sea to fit them in.

Danica slides over to Daniel’s side, who squishes himself into the corner closest to the buttons, offering to press them for the new passengers. Jake steps closer to you, caging you into your own corner.

He raises his brows, clearly suggestive, but you know he’s teasing. That’s the thing about Jake- his constant teasing irritates you, but you know it’s just that. Teasing. He’s kidding, which is why you roll your eyes when he presses himself flush against your body.

“O-kay. Do we really need to be this close?” You ask, but chancing a glance around his shoulder reveals that, yes, you do. You’re sure he’s shimmied closer on purpose, but the woman backed up against him hasn’t given him much of a choice either.

“Does this remind you of anything?” Jake murmurs under his breath, as the elevator doors scrape closed and you begin another ascent, hopefully four floors this time, “A certain tryst with a certain bearded man yesterday?”

“He wasn’t stepping on my toes,” You glance downwards, “And I wanted to kiss him.”

“Ouch.” Jake huffs, but he shuffles his feet backwards off of yours, “What are you really gonna look at in the sex shop?”

Be vulnerable. Danica’s voice echoes in your head, as dramatically as she’d been hoping, He’s trying, be open, be casual, let him.

“Maybe just a vibrator or something.” You mumble, taking care to keep your voice between the two of you even if it’s an adults-only environment, and meeting his eye with honesty you don’t often showcase around Jake, “I can’t say I really need anything but it’d be nice to browse, I guess.”

He nods, slow and attentive, taken aback because he’s just as new to listening as you are to conversing.

When you finally, painstakingly make your way up four floors of passengers trying to squeeze on and off every second, Jake lets you and Danica exit the elevator first. It had been uncomfortable, but convenient when Daniel was storming ahead of you- he and Jake had been kept apart, but now the two nearly bump shoulders again as they trail behind you.

Their array of shops is, admittedly, impressive at first glance, considering you’re in the middle of the ocean. You take pictures of the glittering lights to have as keepsakes, but far away from any cell service, you can’t show them off to your friends just yet.

“Gummy bears,” Danica reminds you, before you can wander off into whatever store catches your fancy, “You can get duty-free booze later, for now let me make sure my niece won’t kill me for coming back empty-handed.”

She pulls you towards the candy shop, and any doubts you’d had about a fanciful confectionary on board an all-adults ship disappear when you step inside.

There’s sex candy. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, because even an ice sculpture you’d spotted from across the deck earlier was shaped into a male torso with well-defined abs. There’s gummy candies in the shape of genitals, there’s chocolates meant to throw you into a hormone-fueled sex craze, there’s flavored condoms, there’s candy lingerie. 

There’s a very small section of actual candy, but it’s where you and Danica have to look for her niece’s gummy bears.

“These are fine,” She eyes the package warily, “There’s nothing adult I’m missing about these, is there?”

“No penises.” You promise, looking over the matte-plastic bag to ensure that even the patterning isn’t crude, “But I think it’s just about the only thing in there without them.”

“Y/N! Look at these!” Jake calls, proving your point when he holds up phallic lollipops, “Dick suckers!”

You suppose if there were ever a time and a place to shout that across a store, it’s here and now. But that doesn’t mean you don’t still cringe, and you duck behind Danica to examine a package on a low shelf, near the corner of the store.

It’s those sex chocolates you’ve seen advertised online, in greatly-exaggerated tiktok videos or tweets. All of the posts you’ve seen about them have been sponsored by the company, so you doubt its efficacy.

Still, you pick a package up and tuck it into a basket that’s stacked in the corner of the room.

“Good idea,” Danica grins, throwing her gummy bears into the cart, “We should see how much Jake’s willing to pay for.”

“If he buys them he’ll want to share,” You make some convoluted sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh, “And I’m not sucking the same dick as him.”

Your basket slowly but surely starts to fill, until one of the packages falls when you turn to look at something Daniel’s pointing out to you.

“Oh-!” You turn to grab it, but there’s already someone there, and Jake shoots you a heavy glance from where he’s kneeling on the floor beside you. It’s a sight- you’re not sure he’s ever looked up at you instead of down, and something in your stomach tightens as he stands back up.

“It broke,” He nods to the chocolate Danica had added into your basket, a piece molded so that it can be tucked between your legs and cover your sex. It’s meant to make someone eat through it before they can eat you, but it’s snapped in half now, completely useless.

“We’ll pay for it,” Danica keeps it in her own grip, grabbing another one and reaching for a new basket, “But I do want one that’s still intact.”

“Don’t bother with one of those for us.” Jake tells you, heaving the basket out of your arms and into his own, “Wouldn’t hold me back for very long at all.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t, Pussy Eater Extraordinaire,” You scoff, “Men always think they’re better at it than they are.”

“I’ve had nothing but glowing reviews,” Jake boasts, but his eye twitches slightly as he reconsiders his statement, “But- I’d trust your input more than theirs.”

“Why’s that?” You bite, “I’m a harsher critic?”

“Exactly.” Jake nods, “I’ll even take pointers if you’ve got any.”

“I’m pointing that way.” You raise your finger towards the cash register, “If you buy the candy lingerie I might be more inclined to let you see me in it.”

He blanches, “You’re serious?”

“See me, Seresin,” You point again to the register, “No touching, no eating.”

“I’ll take it.” He nearly trips over his feet, and Danica erupts with laughter as he pulls out his wallet.

“He really did it!” She gushes, “See? He wouldn’t be buying cherry-flavored condoms if he didn’t want you to use them on him.”

“I have no doubts that he wants to have sex with me.” You remind her, “It’s what comes after that I’m afraid of.”

“After one condom there’s another.” She points to the big number 10 on the side of the box, “In between rounds you can ask him what you guys are.”

She can tell you’re about to groan, because before you can she grabs both of your hands, looking imploringly at you, “Y/N, this is a sex cruise! Let loose. Even if he does tell the whole navy about you- which he won’t, you can tell the whole navy it happened on a sex cruise. That’s a completely valid reason to let him fuck your brains out! You came here to fuck, so fuck.”

“We’ll see,” You grumble, “Cherry’s not my favorite flavor.”

Jake’s total at the register is comically high, but you don’t feel bad because you two get the same paycheck, and as a specialized squadron you’re not exactly down on your luck. He makes no complaints, and pointedly keeps the bag in his own hand instead of letting Daniel fulfill his earlier promise.

“If I let him hold it he might throw it down on the ground during one of his temper tantrums,” Jake murmurs conspiratorially to you, and you appreciate that he has the good sense to keep his voice low, pitched only for your ears as you meander towards the next store, “The chocolate underpants don’t deserve to snap a second time.”

“He’s not gonna throw a temper tantrum,” You groan, “You have a way of getting on people’s nerves, you know that?”

“Okay? And I’ll admit I riled him up, but that’s no excuse to act like a kid. Stomping around, taking it out on you and Danica.”

You raise a brow at him, unimpressed, “Eerily similar to the way you used to act on the tarmac whenever one of us beat you in an exercise?”

Jake’s mouth tightens, “Used to. I grew up a little. When’s the last time I threw a fit?”

You want to reference one of his bursts of antagonistic energy from the past 48 hours, but you have to admit, he’s much more controlled than he would have been a few years ago. You promised Danica you’d give him a chance, so you’ll give him credit where credit is due.

You settle for a reluctant, “You’re getting better.”

It’s another awkward dance, his jutted-out chin pulling back and loosening from the way it had been clenched tight in irritation. It’s your wayward eyes, not meeting his own but not looking at the floor either, just- roaming behind him.

It just so happens that behind him is a very intricately designed vibrator.

You hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings, but Danica and Daniel had given you and your apparent bickering a wide berth as they’d headed into the next store in the row. It’s the sex shop, you realize now, and you and Jake are facing off in the entrance.

It’s an awkward thing, debating character growth between a display of vibrators and a display of fleshlights. You suppose there’s one for each of you if this doesn’t work out.

“After you.” Jake offers, prodding your limp form into the shop when your legs struggle to work, “We can shop for tonight.”

“I’ll be using that tonight,” You point at a ball gag, “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

“That won’t shut me up. Y’know, When Harry Met Sally is my sister’s favorite movie? I could take a page out of Meg Ryan’s book and start moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“She did that in a diner,” You correct him, “And she did it with grace. You could never be Meg Ryan.”

“I couldn’t be Billy Crystal either.” Jake laments, “Turtlenecks don’t look good on me.”

Before you can fall back into the familiar pattern of quipping back and forth with Jake, an old rut in the road that’s familiar even if it digs its own trench deeper, he catches sight of something behind you and his face twists.

“What’s that supposed to do?”

It’s not technically a rose toy. It’s something similar, adjacent maybe, still made for suction and vaginal pleasure. 

“It stimulates suction. Y’know, on the clit?” You explain, and Jake’s face blanches on top of his aghast expression.

“It sucks on you? That sounds dangerous. ‘Sounds like someone’s gonna get their clit ripped off.”

“I’ll test it out and let you know,” You grin, plucking it off of the shelf and adding it into the handheld basket that Danica’s started, “Maybe I’ll do it when you’re sleeping tonight.”

“I’ll hear you anyways. I’m a light sleeper.” Jake reveals, and your stomach drops. Did he hear-? 

No.

He’d have made it known if he’d heard your.. predicament.

It’s Hangman, after all. If he had something on you, he’d use it.

You shake yourself out of your funk and watch as Danica and Daniel contemplate getting a strap-on. You respect him for being open to trying it, if he hasn’t already. Jake’s face hasn’t pinkened from its earlier shade of sheet-white, so you make the very mature decision to not teasingly suggest that you use one on him. 

Instead you turn towards the lingerie, eyeing a red set with stereotypical lace lining the edges.

“That’d look nice on you.” Jake follows where you lead, and though his comment is suggestive, it’s almost respectful, “I think you should get it.”

“It’s too expensive,” You wrinkle your nose, “Not for something paper-thin that you’re probably meant to rip off anyways.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jake vows, and now the cracks in his facade start to show, “I promise I’ll handle you like a gentleman, darlin’.”

You turn on your heel and glide over to Danica.

“He’s trying to disrobe me,” You inform her with a sigh, “When am I allowed to conclude that he’s not changing?”

“Just-” You miss the way that she glares daggers at him from across the store, “He’s trying to change. He won’t be a completely different man, remember- you have to adapt too. It’s a compromise.”

Unfortunately, she has a point. If Jake is changing- and that’s a big if, you’ll need to meet him somewhere in the middle. But this whole Jake-changing-for-you thing is still highly suspect, and though Danica’s insistence is beginning to wear through your hide, you’re not fully convinced.

“Fine.” You sigh, “But I’m still getting the rose toy in case he doesn’t work out.”

“I love my rose toy.” She admits with a grin, “But there’s nothing like getting woken up between your legs. It’s different when someone surprises you with it instead of you shoving the toy down there yourself.”

“I’d love to be woken up by oral.” Your teeth sink into your pillowy bottom lip, and Jake’s footsteps stop behind you where he’s caught up to your group. You miss the look he shares with Danica over your head.

You browse the sex shop for a fair amount of time, but there’s not as much fun to be had as there was in the candy shop. They had variety and exciting things you’d never seen before, and here- well, they have a lot of dildos, that’s for sure. There’s a bland feeling that comes over you as you pace shelves and shelves of the same sex toys, and you wind up with only the suction-based rose toy ripoff at the counter.

“Scoot-” Jake comes up behind you, gently pushing you aside instead of elbowing you out of the way as he extends his own card towards the reader, “I’ve got this one too.”

“No- you don’t have to buy me a sex toy, Jake!” You argue, but the reader is already beeping, having accepted his payment, “I was mostly teasing about the candies. I’m not using you as a sugar daddy- you don’t have to keep picking up my tabs.”

“I’m picking up this one,” Jake carefully tucks the bag into the larger one from the confectionary, “I want you to think of me every time you use it.”

Something terrible, horrible, and unwanted in your brain supplies that you’d already have done that. That the experience of being stuck with him on a boat, of waking up grinding against his thigh, of being at each other’s throats for days on end would have cemented itself into the fucktoy whether you wanted to or not. But that’s an intrusive thought you have no desire to express, and instead you fall silent, taking Danica’s advice of meeting in the middle.

This silence, and the troubling thoughts that induced it, follow you through the next few shops in the row, showcasing duty-free liquor, off-brand ‘designer’ purses, and perfume that all smells the same. Danica holds up samples and swatches, shows you jewelry and handbags, but there’s not much she can do to shake you out of your spiral.

Do you want to fuck Hangman?

No, you certainly don’t want to fuck Hangman. 

But Jake? 

This Jake, the one who’d splashed around with you in the pool and sensed your uneasiness towards Daniel’s outburst, offering his own soothing presence as a distraction. This Jake, the one who’d muscled down decades of manly Texan pride to call for a truce- something you never thought his competitive spirit would be capable of. This Jake, the one who tilts his chin towards the section of books he knows you prefer in their sparse bookstore- this one you could certainly attempt to get used to.

It’s a hard thing to swallow, when something threatens to upend the life you’ve precariously crafted for yourself. When something challenges your notions of true and false, when someone changes. Can people change? Can he change, can Jake really fix his behavior to the point where you’d want to not only fuck him, but date him? Dating Hangman is laughable. Dating Jake is- something you’ve never considered before.

It’s troubling, and your brow remains creased for the remainder of your shopping trip. There’s an underwhelming amount of stores, and you wander further out, down towards the casino at the end of the deck.

“I didn’t bring cash,” Jake’s hand flies to his wallet, “And I don’t trust a casino on a fuckboat with my credit card.”

“We should go back,” Danica agrees, turning to grab Daniel’s hand. He’s calmed now, perhaps embarrassed for his temper earlier, and turns soft eyes towards her as she asks, “Should we go get couples massages?”

Jake waits on you for an answer- that’s new. You tuck the information aside for processing later, and you shake your head wearily, “I need some fresh air. You guys can go without me.”

“Couple’s massage with an empty bed’s pretty sad.” Jake hums, the drawling lilt of his southern accent sweet like honey, “You two enjoy yourselves. I’ll take our stuff back to our room.”

There’s a chorus of agreements, and you bid Danica goodbye with a soft squeeze to her hand, and a sheepish smile from beneath your lashes.

“Trust him!” She urges in a whisper, disguising it as a hug, “We can meet up again later.”

“Tonight for drinks?” You ask, glancing at your phone and seeing that it’s hours into the afternoon, “I think I’d like a casual dinner after last night.”

“We can do casual.” Jake agrees, and you don’t miss the way he says we.

“Drinks,” She nods, and Daniel tries to meet your eyes where you’re trying to avoid his. 

Everything’s so complicated now. You wish Danica hadn’t managed to get into your head- you wish Jake was still the cocky pilot he was yesterday, or three years ago, or since the dawn of time. You wish you didn’t notice his strange behavior, you wish he’d go back to being irritating so you could be irritated with him. You wish you weren’t thinking more about Jake than you are about Daniel, your perfect man, and when you finally do meet his soulful eyes you can’t offer him anything more than a weak smile.

“See you later.” You hum, and there’s nothing to go in for- a hug seems sad, and a kiss seems showy. You fall back a few steps instead, bumping into Jake who’d been stationed behind you.

“Let’s go,” He hums, “Elevator’s at the other end.”

You walk in silence, and discomfort roils in your chest the longer Jake says nothing. Nothing, nothing at all, no poking, no prodding, no comments about the candy penises in the bag he’s carrying for you. Just- dead silence, and you’re still not used to Jake taking social cues from you. He’s loud, and he worms his way into every situation, so why is he failing to do so now, when you crave normalcy the most?

You’d almost forgotten that you were swimming before this, but your bikini resurfaces in your mind when someone in the elevator pays attention to it. His eyes glance downwards towards your chest, and the way that they narrow in focus makes your skin crawl. His gaze isn’t warm like Daniel’s or like-.

He’s eerie, long, sharp facial features making him look like the human equivalent to a dagger. His sharpened point needles at you, and you’re already shuffling back on your feet in the elevator when Jake throws an arm over your shoulder, effectively covering your breasts.

Glancing up at him reveals that he’s locked into a staring match with the man who’d been looking down your top, and Hangman always wins staring matches. His skin grows warm against your chest, and you marvel at the way his single arm manages to shield every sensual detail of your torso.

When the man finally looks away, defeated, Jake uses the arm to pull you back into his embrace, and this time, you don’t fight him on the proximity. You feel a rush of affection for him, uncommon but not unheard of, and you remember that deep down, he’s a good guy. He’s got faults, he’s got faults that you’re not sure he could ever mend, but at his core he’s got a heart worth loving. 

You don’t have time to thank him, because there’s still people in the elevator when the man disembarks, and Jake gets out only one floor after him.

“You’re going to the top deck?” He asks, having seen you press the topmost button on the panel, and you nod.

“I’ll let you get your fresh air.” He walks backwards out of the elevator, “I’ll stash this in our room and come meet you. Mini golf?”

“I’m down,” You nod without thinking just to agree with him, your throat dry as your skin chills in the absence of Jake’s body heat, “Jake-?”

He stops, brows raised. There’s people around you, waiting for their floors, and you sheepishly give up any hair-brained scheme you’d have planned for having an awkward heart-to-heart with the man who’d just protected you with his body.

“My bag.” You gesture to his arm, your tote still slung over it, “Can I have my bag?”

He grins, wide and pearly white, fumbling with the bags in his arms while keeping his foot in the door to stop the elevator from closing. You take it and he steps away, the doors instantly sliding shut on him. You watch as they close in front of his face, and retreating back into your corner of the elevator seems lonely now that there’s no one accompanying you.

No one says anything- why should they? They don’t know you. But the last thing you need is more silence, and the second the doors slide open on the top deck you’re rushing out onto the slippery flooring, beelining for the railing overlooking the water.

It’s the top deck, so it’s shorter and thinner than the rest below it. But it doesn’t matter- you’re afforded a truly stunning view of the ocean as you drink in lungfuls of sea air.

It’s never this pretty on a carrier ship. Maybe that’s because it’s work, or maybe that’s because of where you work, or maybe that’s because you’re always below deck anyways. This kind of a sunset is something you usually can’t find unless you’re soaring into it through the skies, and here you’re able to relax without being in control of an aircraft.

The clouds act as a Rorschach test. The longer you stare at them the more your mind runs wild, and you seem to find all of your problems in the sky despite having landed to get away from them.

Now you’ve got new ones- one day ago your biggest concern was getting laid. Now- well, you suppose your biggest concern is still getting laid. But now you wonder if you could ever muscle down your nerves enough to fuck Jake, or if you’re going to lay yourself bare for Daniel while thinking about your fellow pilot like you had in your dream last night.

This was meant to be an escape. A thoughtless, lust-driven week-long party that would cure you of your sex block and get you back into the groove.

How’d it all go so sideways?

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you, but you do feel Jake’s hand on your shoulder. His fingers, more like it, because two are perched on your shoulder and three are holding a yellow golf club and a pink ball. He’s got a green and blue pair in his other hand, and you try making your face look like you hadn’t just been searching for answers in the clouds.

“‘You ready for golf?” He asks, his voice far more chipper than yours, “They said they won’t charge us if we shoot one into the ocean.”

“Let’s try not to anyways,” You take the club from him, but swap him the pink ball for the green, “There’s people on the first hole. You wanna go backwards?”

“I’m a pro at mini golf anyways,” Jake scoffs, “Don’t need those practice courses.”

Pro Golfer Jake Seresin loses his ball right away.

It’s important to note that you hadn’t gotten a hole-in-one either, but Jake’s shot is especially horrendous. It veers so off-course that it ends up rolling off of the green altogether, and before either of you can reach it it drops from the deck onto the one below. It doesn’t go as far as the ocean, but it does happen to land right in some unfortunate woman’s drink, and she’s not happy about the bright pink disturbance to her mai tai.

“Sorry!” Jake calls, and you know any apology from him is sincere, or he wouldn’t say it, but she takes less-than-swimmingly to his seemingly casual tone, and she launches the ball with much better aim than he had.

Jake nearly tumbles over the railing as he crumples, groaning in pain at the way the ball had solidly whacked him between the legs. You’re torn between laughing, congratulating the woman, and helping Jake back away from the edge of the deck, so you do some convoluted mixture of all three.

You shoot the woman a dry smile as you tug him away from the railing, and he takes a minute just to breathe as you support his weight. He grimaces, but tries to turn it into one of his signature smirks, though it’s clearly forced as he remains doubled over.

“Hell of an arm on that chick.” He comments, voice heaving with either a laugh or a sob, but probably the latter, “Jesus, darlin’, y’think you could kiss it better for me?”

“I’ll make it worse,” You vow, brandishing the golf club in your fist for extra emphasis, “Sit down before you puke, Hangman.”

He listens, dropping to rest his back against the railing and tilt his head back towards the sky.

It just so happens that you’re skyward to him, and his head rolls so that he can gaze up at your face.

“This is not how I envisioned golfing to go.” He admits, his club laying defeated in the fake grass beside him. “For the record, I was going to tell you that your form was off, and then I was going to come up from behind you and grab your hands and guide you through a swing, all while hoping I could control the big guy downstairs.”

You snort at his admission, but for some reason it doesn’t make you indignant like it might have a day ago. You’re not sure what exactly has changed, just that it’s still changing, and that it would be far easier if it never had.

“How romantic.” You drop a hand onto his head, jostling it side-to-side now that he can’t stop you, “And I suppose this is us staring at the sunset together?”

“Sort of,” Jake shakes his head free of your palm, short-cut hair now wildly out of place.

“It is- funny. How we fly every day but can still stare at the sky.” You note, trying to lose yourself in the watercolor hues of the sky again, “Clouds aren’t any less captivating now than they were when I was 10.”

“It’s different here. We’re relaxing.” Jake hums, “Even if I’m gonna need to ice this later. We’re not doing a timed drill that involves tactical missiles.”

You suppose Jake’s not standing anytime soon so you hit the deck yourself, landing defeatedly beside him and letting your club rest in front of you, “I didn’t come here to relax. Or- I guess I kind of did? In between rounds.”

Jake laughs, and stretches his leg out to rest beside yours, “I came here to fuck. Obviously. But this is nice too.”

You feel a sudden rush of guilt. You’re secure in the fact that you don’t owe Jake anything, even if you’d been assigned as his roommate on this sex cruise. Of course, you hadn’t known he’d be your roommate, or you’d never have signed up, but neither had he. He’d been expecting some woman of his dreams, someone hot, curvy, and ready to open her legs for him, and he’d gotten you. You’re both, in your own ways, disappointments to each other.

“I’m sorry. By the way. That you got stuck with me.” You interrupt the silence after a moment, and only afterwards do you realize that it was a comfortable silence, not one of those tense, awkward things that shatter when broken. 

“Stuck with you?” Jake questions, but before he can spit out some half-baked, cheesy line about never being stuck with you, darlin’, you finish your speech.

“You came here to fuck.” You parrot his words, “And I’m not letting you, and I don’t have to let you, but you wanted to. So I’m sorry we’re each other’s roommates. I came here to fuck, too. And it sucks that we know each other, and that things are so complicated, and that we can’t just fuck like rabbits for a week. I’m sorry.”

Jake stays silent for a while, something that rarely happens with him. But it’s sincere, and when he finally speaks, it’s with a sigh and a nudge of his foot against yours.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to let me,” He agrees, “But- I’m enjoying myself even if we’re not fucking like rabbits.”

“You are?” You give him a sideways glance, “Even though we just drained your credit card and you’re unlikely to be able to reproduce?”

“Free vasectomy,” He grins, “And shopping was fun. And swimming was fun, and drinking was fun, and dinner was fun, and- being with you is fun sometimes.”

“You just had to throw the ‘sometimes’ in there, didn’t you Hangman?” This time, when you refer to him with his callsign, it’s not venomous. Instead, it’s almost fond, and you share a quiet laugh in unison as people mill around you, drinking and kissing and playing mini golf.

“I’m glad you’re having fun.” You sober up, “I’m- I think I’m having fun too.”

“I hope so. ‘Gotta get somethin’ out of this cruise, even if it’s not sex.”

“Jake?” You ask, keeping your head forward and ignoring the sense of deja vu that comes over you.

“Hm?”

“Thanks.” You hum, “For- for understanding that I’m not going to- and, for stopping that guy from looking at me earlier, and for buying me stuff at the shops, and- just. Thank you.”

His response is the thunk of his forehead against your shoulder, and he turns his head to watch the sunset with you through the railing at the opposite end of the deck.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[obsessedwithceleste]

Flowers

soft! Mattheo Riddle x reader

Summary: You just wanted your boyfriend to buy you flowers. He got a bit confused along the way.

word count: 1.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You’d never been the type of person who particularly enjoyed flashy, grand gestures. In fact, the mere thought of all eyes on you as a boy professed his undying love for you made you want to toss yourself off of the astronomy tower. And yet, here you were, watching as Lorenzo Berkshire presented your best friend, Daphne Greengrass, with yet another huge bouquet of gorgeous flowers and wishing your own boyfriend would do the same.

You let out a soft sigh, glancing at your boyfriend whose arm was wrapped securely around your shoulders as the two of you lounged on the sofa in the library. Matteo wasn’t a bad boyfriend by any means. Really, you loved the way he showered you in attention, always eager to please. However, he wasn’t exactly up to speed when it came to romantic gestures. Normally you didn’t mind, but every one wanted to be treated like royalty sometimes you supposed.

“Oh Enz, these are beautiful!” Daphne gushed, giving her boyfriend a peck on the lips as he smiled adoringly down at her.

“Anything for you love,” the boy replies easily, taking the seat next to her, and pulling her in so that she was leaning into him.

“Geez, get a bloody room would you?” Theodore complains as the two cozy up together.

You roll your eyes at your friend. “Shut it Theo, I think it’s sweet.” You then turn to your own boyfriend. “You know Matteo, Enz gets Daphne flowers every week. I wish you did that.”

Matteo’s eyebrows shoot up and he gives you a confused look.

“Really?” He asks.

You nod earnestly. “I think it’d be nice.”

Matteo gives you another concerned glance before shrugging his shoulders.

“Alright, love.” He says, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

You smile warmly at the boy, resting your head on his shoulder before continuing your reading for ancient runes.

“I’m proud of you for finally sticking up for yourself, y/n.” Daphne says, placing her bag down as she takes a seat next to you in the Great Hall.

“Oh? What chapter did we miss?” Pansy asks from across the table where she and Astoria sat.

You furrow your eyebrows, also confused as to where Daph was going with this.

“In the library this afternoon, y/n finally got on Matt’s case about how he never does anything romantic for them. I mean, you’ve been together for what? Almost a year? And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him bring you flowers. Not once!” Daphne says, filling her plate.

“Oh. I mean, I really don’t mind all that much to be honest. You and Enzo just always look so sweet, I thought it’d be nice for a change. I don’t really expect him to do it every week like Enzo does,” you reply.

“See, but it’s the principle of it all isn’t it? Of course I like the fact that Draco is constantly buying me random gifts, but I would be fine without them. It’s that he’s thinking of me, and taking a bit of time to go out of his way to show me that, yeah?” Astoria says.

You tilt your head, considering your friend’s words.

“I suppose I never thought of it like that,” you tell her.

“Well you should. The bloody bullshit we put up with dating those boys, buying us nice things is really the least they can do,” she replies.

You let out a snort, laughing at your friend’s candidness.

As if to illustrate her point, the rowdy laughter of the boys could be heard from the entrance as they made their way over to your table. You frown as Matteo takes his usual place beside you, seeing a fresh cut on his cheekbone.

“Matteo Bartholomew Riddle.” You sigh, reaching up to touch his face.

“Bartholomew? Bloody hell mate, I’d have to avada myself with a middle name like that,” Draco laughs, plopping down next to Astoria.

He doesn’t even flinch as your finger tips make contact with the cut, only sighing as he glares at Draco before looking down at you with his large puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck off Lucius. And you know that isn’t even my middle name, love,” he says, reaching across the table to steal a roll from Theo’s plate.

“Well you won’t tell me your real one, so I’ll continue making up ridiculous ones until then. Now what on earth did you get up to now, and how many days of detention did you get?”

Matteo frowns, jutting out his bottom lip at you.

“What makes you so sure I got a detention?”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow at the boy.

“Three days. With McGonagall.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head and turn back to face Astoria whose face practically read ‘you see what I mean?’

“Man got into a scuffle with some Hufflepuff. Swear those yellow bastards look unassuming but they’re demons,” Theo says filling you and the other girls in.

Matteo glares at his friend.

“Snitch,” he mumbles, stuffing the roll into his mouth.

“Like they weren't going to find out anyway,” Theo replies, brushing him off.

Once again rolling your eyes at your boyfriend, you focus on finishing your meal, listening to the idle chatter of your friends as Matteo’s hand finds yours under the table.

By the following week, you had all but forgotten your request for your boyfriend to bring you flowers. When you saw Matteo enter the Great Hall with a large bouquet of assorted flowers however, a smile grew across your face. Then, your smile wavered slightly, growing into confusion as Matteo made his way to the other side of the table, tapping Daphne on the shoulder.

Daphne and Enzo look back at Matteo with utter confusion as your boyfriend thrusts the flowers towards your friend.

“Uh. Here.” He says awkwardly as the two stare up at him with bewilderment.

You blink once. Then twice before Daphne breaks the silence.

“Matteo, respectfully, what the fuck?” She asks.

“Look, I don’t know either. I’m just as confused as you are,” Matteo says, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

You look incredulously between your boyfriend, the flowers, and finally Daphne before realization hits you and your head drops into your hand. This bloody idiot.

“Matteo. Love. When I said, Enzo brings Daphne flowers every week, you should too, I meant for me. As in, you should bring me flowers too,” you say with exasperation. Lord help you.

Matteo’s mouth forms an ‘o’ before he smiles sheepishly at you, rounding the table and now thrusting the flowers towards you.

“For you, my love,” he says proudly.

You let out a laugh, accepting the flowers as your boyfriend takes his seat next to you.

“Matt you are so lucky y/n puts up with your shit,” Daphne sighs, shaking her head fondly at the two of you.

“But also, ever try giving my girl flowers again and I’ll curse your bed. I know where you sleep.” Enzo adds.

“Yeah, yeah, I ain’t scared of you Berkshire you big softie.”

“I’ll Avada you.”

“I’d write you letters in Azkaban.” Daphne says sweetly as the boys continue to throw threats each other’s way.

You shake your head at your friend’s antics, smiling softly as your fingers grazed the soft petals of the flowers your boyfriend had finally presented you with.

“Thank you Matteo,” you say, briefly interrupting the boy’s loud chattering to place a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek.

I know this is so short, but I’ve been wanting to write this scene for the longest time, and couldn’t find a way to fit it into a longer fic 🫠

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 15

“ambushed”

"You have no idea how you ended up being the middlewoman for Jungkook’s surprise birthday party. You also had no clue who Yeji’s brother was—except, apparently, you did. And now, on top of everything, there’s a hot teaching assistant who seems to be interested in you."

next | index | wc: 7,8k

↪︎author's note : OKAY SO. Here’s Chapter 15. Also, I’m out of town this weekend, which means I probably won’t be writing at all. Consider it my three-day break. SO TAKE IT SLOW. BREATHE. Anyway, this chapter was ridiculously fun to write because I finally got to have Y/N exchange numbers with Hobi and Tae. Also, Jungkook’s birthday is September 1st, and I’m keeping that canon, so… her getting roped into this party planning mess is hilarious to me (except, actually, not really—because free drinks. And let’s be real, I’d also agree if someone covered my tab for the night). ALSOOOOO. New character unlocked! What are our thoughts on the TA? You’ll see Jungkook’s perspective next chapter. :) (Reminder: we’re dealing with limited POVs here, so read between the lines. It’s your job to play detective. These two are unreliable narrators, as we all know.) Mwah mwah, Kiki off.

College syllabi should come with a warning label: May cause extreme boredom and online shopping addiction.

Your cursor hovers between two different scented candles on your screen—both equally wrong for Emma's birthday. 

Fresh ocean waves. 

How is that not a standard candle scent? 

You've scrolled through seventeen different websites and the closest you've found is "Sea Breeze" (too generic) and "Ocean Mist" (which, according to reviews, smells like "bathroom cleaner with a hint of desperation").

Professor Herrington drones on about post-modern literary theory, his monotone voice basically putting everyone to sleep.

Except Jimin, because next to you, his pen scratches across his notebook, meticulous notes forming in his neat handwriting. 

Thank god for Jimin. 

Your own notebook sits open with exactly three words written at the top: "Post-modern lit is..." The sentence remains unfinished because, well, you stopped paying attention approximately forty-two minutes ago.

Your phone buzzes against your thigh. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.

What fresh hell is this? you wonder, sliding it out just enough to peek at the notifications.

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  created a new conversation

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  named the conversation "kafka my beloved"

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  added You to "kafka my beloved"

You blink at the notification. What the actual fuck?

You open the chat under your desk, finding only Yoongi's contact among two other +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 s.

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 :)

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚢/𝚗! 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚒 :) 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢.

You stare at your phone, momentarily confused. Jungkook's birthday? Since when are you involved in anything Jungkook-related that doesn't involve slamming doors, fighting over Griffin, or... well, the other thing that nobody knows about?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚖𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚖 𝚒 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍

A pause, and then:

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚒’𝚖 𝚝𝚊𝚎𝚑𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚝𝚠… 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠

Ah, of course. Mr. Artistic-and-Condescending himself. You quickly save his contact as "𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨" and the other as "𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃".

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎??

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚍?? 

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝚜𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚢, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚒’𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢???

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢! 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ��𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢!

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! 🥳

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍… 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝? 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝟷.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚒 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜?? 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘??

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢! 🎂

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠?

There's a noticeable pause in the conversation, and you glance up to make sure Professor Harrington hasn't caught you texting. He's still gesturing wildly about stream of consciousness, completely oblivious.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚊𝚝 𝙱𝙽

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗? 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝟾𝚙𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚝 𝟻

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒’𝚖 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚛 🙃

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝! 🎉

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛. 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 ^

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 (𝚢𝚘𝚞) 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝟾 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢? 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

Another pause, longer this time. You can practically feel the tension through the screen.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕! 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 😊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 "𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝" 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚒𝚊?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚊?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚙?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎’𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙, 𝚢/𝚗! 💫

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚍𝚔

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚆𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖…

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 💕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚍𝚌 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 ☺️

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜? 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜! 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢-𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢???

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊?

Your cheeks heat up as you remember exactly how you know Jungkook likes vanilla—specifically, the vanilla-scented body wash you were wearing the night you ended up in bed with him. 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜???

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝟽𝚝𝚑! 🍪

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎!

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝... 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘! 🥳

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚒𝚝’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝟷𝟻 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝? 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛?

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 😕

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛!

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚔 🙄

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚝𝚟

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢/𝚗! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 🙏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚙

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜! 📚

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖

You bite your lip, thinking about exactly how "personal" things have gotten between you and Jungkook in the three weeks since you moved in. 

If they only knew.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚑𝚞𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝! 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢! 🎉

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛?

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚎𝚜! 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘! 🚀

You lock your phone just as Professor Harrington calls on someone in the front row to analyze a passage. Jimin gives you a side-eye that clearly says "I saw you texting the whole time," but he slides his notes closer to you anyway.

Now you have two birthday gifts to figure out, and somehow you need to convince Jungkook—the guy you've been having no-strings-attached sex with for the past few weeks—to go to a restaurant without making it weird or suspicious.

And apparently there's some mysterious birthday trauma you're not allowed to know about.

Great. Just great.

You click back to the birthday options for Emma. At least one decision should be simple.

When the lecture finally ends, you let out a yawn so massive it feels like your jaw might unhinge. The kind of yawn that makes your eyes water and your whole body stretch like a cat waking up from a seventeen-hour nap.

"Could you at least pretend to pay attention?" Jimin taps you on the head with his pen. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to be annoying. Like a woodpecker with perfect hair and a conscience.

You rub your eyes, smudging whatever mascara you bothered to put on this morning. "What for? I'll just jam it all in my head two weeks before the exam and I'll pass it. Always works."

"Until it doesn't," he says with that little smile that makes you want to both hug him and flick his forehead. The smile that says he's judging you but in the nicest possible way.

"Has worked for the past two years," you counter, shoving your mostly empty notebook into your bag. "I'm basically a professional at academic procrastination at this point."

Jimin slides his laptop into its case with the precision of someone who actually paid for their electronics themselves instead of guilting their parents into it like you did. He zips it closed and slings the strap across his body, adjusting it so it sits perfectly against his hip.

And then he just... stands there. In front of your table. Waiting.

It's such a small thing. Stupid, really. 

But as you fumble with your pens and shove crumpled papers into your bag, you can't help but notice how he's just there. Not rushing ahead with a quick "see you later" thrown over his shoulder. Not walking out with other classmates while you're left scrambling to catch up.

He just waits. Patiently. Drumming his fingers against the edge of the desk in a rhythm that probably matches whatever song is stuck in his head today. His eyes wander around the lecture hall, watching other students file out in chattering groups.

You've only known Jimin for what—three and a half weeks?—since the semester started, but somehow he's already figured out this thing that matters to you without you having to say it. 

The waiting. The not leaving first.

A smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it. You try to hide it by ducking your head, but when you glance up, Jimin's looking down at you with one eyebrow quirked in question.

"Let's go to Jin's," you say, zipping your bag closed with more force than necessary. "Coffee. My treat."

"Alright," he agrees easily, but his eyes are knowing. "But just because it's your treat."

You roll your eyes. "I’m not made of money."

"Says the girl who spent the entire lecture online shopping."

"That's different. That's for Emma's birthday." You sling your bag over your shoulder and start walking toward the exit. "And apparently I need to get something for Jungkook too now."

"Jungkook?" Jimin falls into step beside you. "Your roommate? The one you said, and I quote, 'has the personality of a wet sock with tattoos'?"

"Did I say that?" You wince. "That's a little harsh. He's more like... a slightly damp sock. With tattoos. And a cat."

"Uh-huh." Jimin holds the door open for you because of course he does. "And you're buying him a gift because...?"

"His friends are planning this whole surprise birthday thing and somehow I got roped into it." You step outside into the September sunshine, immediately regretting your choice of a black t-shirt. "I have to get him to some ramen place on Saturday without making it obvious."

"Sounds like a job for someone who actually likes him," Jimin says, adjusting his bag strap again.

"That's what I said!" You throw your hands up. "But apparently I'm the only option because Yoongi's too obvious or whatever."

You navigate through the crowded walkway, automatically stepping closer to Jimin when a group of skateboarders whizzes by. 

"So what are you getting him?" Jimin asks.

"No idea. His friend suggested whiskey or photography books." You mumble. "But it feels weird to get him something when we barely know each other."

Jimin gives you a look that's a little too perceptive for comfort. "You live together. How do you barely know each other after almost a month?"

"We're not exactly having heart-to-hearts over breakfast, Jimin." You avoid his eyes. "It's more like ships passing in the night. Ships that occasionally fight over whose turn it is to clean the bathroom."

"Hmm." It's a noncommittal sound, but somehow Jimin packs a lot of doubt into that one syllable.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just seems like there might be more to the story."

You nearly trip over your own feet. Does he know? How could he know? You've been so careful not to mention anything about your... arrangement with Jungkook. But Jimin has this annoying sixth sense about people.

"There's nothing to tell," you say, too quickly. "He's just my roommate. Who happens to need a birthday gift now."

"If you say so." Jimin mercifully drops the subject. "So what did you end up getting for Emma?" 

"Nothing yet. I was looking at candles, but none of them are right. She likes ocean scents, but all the ones I found online smell like bathroom cleaner according to the reviews."

"What about that little shop on 12th? The one with all the handmade stuff?"

You blink at him. "What shop on 12th?"

"The one we walked past last week when you were complaining about your landlord's no-pets policy while simultaneously showing me fifty pictures of Griffin."

"Oh." You vaguely remember a storefront with crystals in the window. "I didn't notice it."

"Of course you didn't." Jimin's smile is fond. "You were too busy telling me how Griffin only knocks over Jungkook's things but never yours."

"Because it's true! That cat has taste. But yeah, maybe we could check out that shop after coffee? If you're not busy?"

“Maybe after coffee.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs—that bright, genuine laugh that makes it impossible not to smile back. It's weird having a friend like Jimin. Someone who waits for you after class and remembers the shops you walk past and doesn't make you feel like you're too much or not enough.

It's nice. 

Really nice.

The bell chiming in Jin's shop shouldn't come as a surprise. 

So it doesn't. 

What does, however, is Professor Kim standing next to your university best friend Yeji as she animatedly complains about coffee to Jin, who looks like he's rolling his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head and roll across the counter.

You stop dead in your tracks, nearly causing Jimin to crash into your back. Your brain immediately halts its processes like you've just witnessed your high school principal at a strip club. 

Because what the actual fuck is Professor Namjoon Kim—the English department's golden boy who publishes in journals you can't even pronounce—doing hanging out with Yeji? 

It's like seeing your therapist at the grocery store. Or your gynecologist at a bar. 

Some people just shouldn't exist outside their designated spaces in your life.

"Uh... hi Yeji?" you mutter, approaching the counter.

Your hand instinctively grabs the handle of your bag, clutching it like it might somehow explain this bizarre crossover episode of your life.

Jimin grabs your arm from behind, his fingers digging into your bicep as he tries to subtly pull you away. You can practically feel the panic radiating off him. 

Makes sense. 

Professor Kim is basically his academic idol—the guy probably has Namjoon's journal articles taped to his ceiling like other people have posters of rock stars.

But your curiosity is stronger than your sense of self-preservation. It always has been.

"Why are you with Professor Kim?" you blurt out, gesturing between them with your free hand. "That's such an odd combination?"

Yeji turns around, her perfectly glossed lips forming a small 'o' of surprise before morphing into an amused smile. "You mean my brother?"

Brother?

You actually feel your mouth hanging open, but you can't seem to close it. It's like your jaw muscles have gone on strike.

"Your what now?" you choke out, eyes darting between them. 

And holy shit, how did you not see it before? They have the same eyes. The same way of tilting their head slightly when confused. The same fucking dimples when they smile.

"Brother," Yeji repeats slowly, like you might not understand the concept of siblings. "You know, same parents, shared childhood trauma, occasional desire to commit murder?"

Professor Kim—Namjoon—lets out a deep chuckle that somehow makes him seem less like the intimidating academic genius and more like... well, Yeji's dorky older brother.

"I didn't realize you two knew each other," he says, looking between you and Yeji with genuine surprise.

"We're in the same class for History of Modern Art," Yeji explains, then turns to you with narrowed eyes. "Wait, how do you know Joon?"

"He, uh—" you start, but Jimin cuts you off, apparently having recovered from his initial shock.

"Professor Kim helped Y/N with her English assignment last week in the cafeteria," he says, his voice doing that slightly higher thing it does when he's nervous. "He's my Literary Criticism professor."

Jin, who's been watching this whole exchange with the entertained expression of someone witnessing a particularly juicy reality TV show, slides a cup across the counter. 

“Your usual, Joon. Maybe this will help you process the fact that your worlds are colliding."

"Thanks," Namjoon says, accepting the coffee. "And it's not that weird. University's a small place."

"Not that weird?" you repeat, your voice climbing an octave. "Yeji's been my friend for almost a month and she never once mentioned her brother is the Professor Kim who's published in like, every major literary journal and is the youngest professor in the English department!"

Yeji shrugs, completely unbothered by your minor meltdown. "Why would I? It's not like I go around introducing myself as 'Yeji Kim, sister of Namjoon Kim, academic wunderkind.'"

"You absolutely should," Jin interjects, wiping down the counter. "It's much more interesting than 'Yeji Kim, girl who complains about my coffee being too bitter even though that's literally how coffee tastes.'"

"It doesn't have to taste like liquid punishment, Jinjin," Yeji fires back.

“Call me that again, I dare you.”

She just sticks her tongue out at him. 

Meanwhile, your brain is still trying to process this information. Yeji—your friend who constantly convinces you to skip class—is related to the professor who casually dropped references to obscure literary theories while helping you with your paper. The same professor who Jimin practically worships from afar.

The bell chimes again, and Namjoon glances over your shoulder, his face lighting up with recognition.

"Jason! Perfect timing," he calls out, waving someone over.

You turn to see a man who looks like he walked straight out of an academic journal's "30 Under 30" feature. Dark wavy hair, green eyes, and a messenger bag settled against his thigh. He looks younger than Namjoon but carries himself with the same confident ease, minus the dorky energy Namjoon apparently reserves for his sister.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, approaching your little group. "Office hours ran long."

"Everyone, this is Jason Calloway," Namjoon introduces as the newcomer reaches you. "He's a teaching assistant in the English department, working on his PhD. Jason, this is my sister Yeji, her friend Y/N, and—"

"Jimin Park," Jason finishes, nodding at Jimin. "From Literary Criticism, right? Front row, always has insightful questions."

Jimin looks like he might spontaneously combust from the recognition. "Y-yes, that's me."

"And Jin, the coffee wizard," Namjoon adds, gesturing to the barista.

Jin gives a curt nod, his ‘usual’ friendliness suddenly dialed down to about a three. "Professor Calloway."

"Please, just Jason," he insists with a smile that reveals perfect teeth. 

(Of course they're perfect. The guy probably flosses twice a day and has never had a cavity in his life.)

His eyes land on you, and you feel weirdly self-conscious about the fact that you haven't brushed your hair since you woke up.

"Y/N, was it?" he asks, extending his hand. "I don't think I've seen you in any of the English department courses."

You shake his hand, noticing how firm his grip is. Like, professional-level handshake firmness. 

“That's because I'm not in Literary Criticism. Though I’m friends with Yeji and uh, occasionally get help from her brother when I'm desperate."

"She's being modest," Namjoon interjects. "She wrote an excellent analysis of Joyce's symbolism in 'Araby' last week."

"Really?" Jason's eyebrows rise with what seems like genuine interest. "That's one of my favorite stories from Dubliners. What was your take?"

And suddenly you're discussing your half-assed paper with this unfairly attractive TA while everyone else watches. 

"...so basically I argued that the bazaar represents this false promise of escape that ultimately just reinforces the narrator's entrapment," you finish, surprised at how coherent you sound.

"That's a compelling reading," Jason says, and he actually sounds like he means it. "Have you considered taking any of the modernist literature electives? Professor Harlow is teaching one next semester that would build on exactly those kinds of insights."

"Oh, I don't know if—"

"She'd be perfect for it," Namjoon agrees, nodding enthusiastically. "Y/N has a natural instinct for literary analysis.”

You shoot him a betrayed look. Way to trap you in front of Hot TA.

"I'll think about it," you say, which is your standard response to any suggestion that might involve additional work.

"You should," Jason says, pulling out his phone. "Actually, I'm putting together a study group for students interested in modernist literature. We meet at the library on Thursdays. Nothing formal, just discussions. Would you want me to text you the details?"

Is he... is he asking for your number? Under the guise of academic enrichment?

"Sure," you hear yourself saying, even though the last thing you need is another commitment. 

You recite your number as he types it into his phone.

"Great," he says, pocketing his phone with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I'll text you the information."

Jin clears his throat loudly. "Are you ordering something, or just recruiting for your book club?"

"Black coffee, please," Jason says, unfazed by Jin's tone. "And whatever these two are having." He gestures to you and Jimin.

"Oh, that's not necessary—" you start.

"I insist," Jason says. "Consider it a thank you for the interesting conversation."

"I was going to treat Jimin," you protest weakly.

"Then you can treat him next time," Jason counters smoothly.

“Coming right up," Jin says in a tone that suggests he'd rather be doing literally anything else.

"So, Jason," Yeji pipes up. “In a scale of one to ten, how boring is it working with my brother?”

“I’m literally right here.” Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“I’m not talking to you.” She nudges his shoulder.

And just like that, you find yourself observing Professor Kim engaging in sibling banter with your black cat girl friend. 

Jimin just sighs.

Jason smiles.

And you… You can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Because he’s kinda cute. 

And he thinks you're smart, which is... new. 

And nice.

And probably easy and not at all like what you have to fight everyday back at home.

Jimin leans close to your ear. "Did you just get adopted by the Teaching Assistant?" he whispers.

"Shut up," you mutter back, but there's no heat in it.

You're too busy wondering why Jin looks like he's trying to murder Jason with his eyes as he aggressively steams milk for your latte.

You are going to kill Yoongi.

Not in a fun, theoretical way. Not in a haha, wouldn’t it be so funny if you just disappeared way. No, in a genuine, how dare you way. A why the fuck would you tell me that way. Because now you know, and it’s annoying.

Because who the fuck just collects vinyls without owning a record player? Seriously? Is Jungkook, like, a museum curator in his free time? A hoarder? A hipster? A tragic romantic who thinks the idea of playing them is better than actually hearing the music?

And why do you know this about him now? Why do you have to sit here, staring at your phone screen, realizing that—wow, Jungkook actually cares about something other than his cat, his coffee machine, or sex?

(Not that you can complain about that last one. The guy is good. But anyway. Not the point.)

The point is: you need to get him a gift, and you had thought, for maybe five minutes, oh, a record player, that’s easy, before the internet informed you that you are, in fact, an idiot. Because apparently, these things are not cheap. Not even close.

Like, two hundred dollars minimum. Minimum. 

What the actual fuck? Are these things hand-carved by monks in the Swiss Alps? Does each one come with a vial of David Bowie’s blood? 

No wonder Jungkook doesn’t have one. Knowing him, he probably wants some artisan audiophile masterpiece that costs a month’s rent, because apparently, he only likes expensive shit. If his coffee machine is any indication, he’s the kind of guy who thinks “entry-level” is an insult.

So, yeah. That’s a dead end.

Which is just great, because why should it be easy to buy a gift for your stupid, annoying roommate? The same roommate you—occasionally—fuck. The same roommate who gives you pretty damn good orgasms (objectively speaking) but also apparently sometimes ties your shoelaces and carries your fucking laundry basket. 

Not that those things mean anything. He’s still annoying. 

And this is just… inconvenient.

Because it shouldn't be this hard. Emma’s gift was easier. A candle. Because you know her. Have known her for years, since high school, since braces and straight A’s and sleepovers in a house that wasn’t filled with the crushing weight of expectation.

It’s not like you and Emma were inseparable or anything, but she was safe. Predictable in a way that your own life wasn’t. Parents who asked about school but didn’t make your worth dependent on it. A house that felt lived in, not curated for appearances. You spent whole weekends there sometimes, away from the asphyxiating worry and tightly wound smiles of home.

And yet, even with all that history, buying her a gift was easy. Thoughtless, almost. Because you know what she likes. What she always likes. Ocean scents. Easy. Done. But with Jungkook—

You don’t know him. 

Not like that. 

Not in ways that make gift-buying easy. 

You know what his mouth feels like on your skin, what he sounds like when he’s cumming, the way his grip tightens when you push him past the point of coherence. 

You know he doesn’t just fuck, he devours, the way he lets himself lose control but never in a way that feels unsafe. 

You know that Jungkook.

But this? This is something else entirely.

And it’s not like you’re overthinking it. You just… refuse to get him something meaningless? Because, what—his friends are getting him stuff that matters to him, and you’re not gonna make yourself look stupid by giving him a random mug. 

And clearly, a vinyl player is out of the question because you are not spending two hundred dollars on this man.

Because, get real. You’ve known him for a month. 

Maybe you should just go with the whiskey. Or the macarons. Or whatever the hell else his friends suggested.

But the thought of it doesn’t sit right.

It should. It should sit right.

But it doesn’t.

And then Jason is holding the door open, and Jimin is nudging you through like you’re some kid hesitating at the threshold of a dentist’s office. You shoot him a glare, but he just raises his brows in that infuriating way that says get a move on, and okay, fine. 

You step inside the library. 

It’s its usual hushed, sterile self—muted conversations, the soft clatter of laptop keys, the occasional rustle of a page turning. You’ve spent enough time here that the whole place feels mapped into your brain, familiar in a way that’s more about necessity than comfort.

Jason, of course, is completely at ease, like someone who actually enjoys being in academic settings. He had mentioned he could help you both out with your subjects—literary criticism for Jimin, contemporary poetry for you—and maybe the whole thing should feel a little weird. 

Because it is weird. 

Jason is a teaching assistant. He’s basically one step removed from a professor, and getting study help from someone who could realistically grade your future papers seems like it should be against some kind of rule.

But also, he’s attractive. And if you have to suffer through an afternoon of studying, you may as well have something nice to look at.

And okay, it’s not just that. He’s actually competent. He seems interested in the material, which is already more than you can say for yourself when it comes to dissecting yet another pretentious poem that somehow manages to say absolutely nothing in fourteen unnecessarily complicated lines. 

And if he makes studying less of a slow, painful death? 

Well. That’s a deal worth taking.

So you walk. And you do it carefully, because the last thing you need is to trip over your own feet and make a spectacular fool of yourself in front of Jason and his perfectly effortless, I-have-my-life-together aura. 

Jimin moves ahead, leading the way like he always does, because he has a whole system for this.

The table. Your table. The one tucked away far enough that nobody bothers enforcing the stupid beverage policy, even though Jimin swears that’s not the only reason he picks it every time. But to get there, you have to take the lift, which means a little more walking, a little more weaving through the maze of bookshelves and seating areas.

You’re mid-step, following Jimin’s path, when the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand on edge.

It’s instant, sharp, like someone just screamed your name in the dead silence of a church. Except no one did. Nothing changed. The library still hums with the same subdued energy, people still absorbed in their own work, but—

Your head turns before you even realize why.

And there he is.

Jungkook.

Sitting at a table to your left, laptop open, fingers resting on the keyboard like he was mid-typing before he got distracted. 

And yeah, he is distracted, because his eyes are lifted from the screen, gaze settled on the girl beside him. She’s leaning in, whispering something, lips barely moving, and whatever she said—whatever it was—makes his mouth quirk up at the corner in that stupid, smug way that he does when he thinks he’s being effortlessly charming.

It shouldn’t be interesting.

But for some reason, your feet almost stutter.

It’s like your body noticed him before your brain did, like some ridiculous internal Jungkook radar just activated without your permission.

And you hate that.

Hate that he’s even registering in your periphery, let alone taking up any space in your thoughts. 

But your eyes are still on him. And worse, his shift.

His gaze drifts from the girl—slowly, lazily, like he’s not in any rush—until it lands on you.

And that is the moment that something tightens in your chest.

Because now he’s looking. Now he sees you, standing there, caught in this stupid little moment of unexpected eye contact. And if there’s one thing you hate, it’s that Jungkook is the type of person who notices things. 

Apparently. 

Because since when do you notice he notices things?

And then his gaze drifts.

Past you. Over your shoulder. Taking in the presence behind you like he’s cataloging it. 

Jimin, probably. Maybe Jason. 

Either way, something shifts in his expression—not dramatically, not like some big revelation, just the smallest flicker of recognition.

But then?

Then there’s the eyebrow.

A small quirk, barely there, but unmistakably him. The way it pulls up, just enough to suggest something—questioning, curious, maybe vaguely amused. 

Or maybe not amused at all. Maybe something closer to why the fuck are you here? Or who the fuck is that? Or is this really what we’re doing today?

Like you have any idea.

Like you even know what it is about this moment that makes your stomach do something unpleasantly close to twisting.

Your shoulders pull up in an easy, practiced shrug, the universal sign for why the fuck do you care? Because, really, why does he? 

Or does he?

Whatever. You’re here to study. With Jimin. And Jason, apparently. Who happens to be helping. And also happens to be attractive. And none of that is Jungkook’s business.

Except now you have to keep walking.

Which, for some reason, feels like an entirely different task than just existing a second ago. Like there’s a new weight to it now, something too aware of the fact that he’s watching. 

You should just go. Pass by. Move on. But your body is hyper-conscious of every step, every shift, every inch of space between you and the table where Jungkook sits, his laptop open, his fingers still hovering over the keyboard like he’s supposed to be typing.

But isn’t.

And then Jimin is stepping ahead again, and Jason is right beside you, and there’s no reason for you to hesitate even for a second longer.

So you don’t.

You just keep walking.

And you feel him keep staring.

And then you’re sliding into a chair far away from him (thankfully), whilst Jimin settles across from you. Jason takes the seat to your left, close enough that you catch a whiff of something woodsy and expensive. 

It's fine. This is fine. You're just here to study, not to think about the way Jungkook's eyes followed you or how his stupid eyebrow quirked up like he was asking a question you couldn't quite decipher. 

So you reach for your bag, fishing out your contemporary poetry textbook—a tome so dense it could double as a weapon in a pinch. The cover stares up at you, all pretentious font and abstract artwork, like it's judging you for not appreciating its profound literary significance or whatever.

But before you can even crack it open, your phone buzzes against your thigh. Once. Twice. Like it's impatient, demanding attention right fucking now.

With a sigh that's more dramatic than strictly necessary, you pull it out, already knowing who it's going to be. Because of course. Of course he can't just let it go.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

You stare at the screen, torn between annoyance and something dangerously close to amusement. Because really? That's what he's going with?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’t 𝚒 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝??? 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 🤨

The reply comes faster than you expected, like he was waiting with his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞 𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜

You snort, earning a curious glance from Jimin. You wave him off, mouthing "it's nothing" even as your fingers are already tapping out a response.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚖

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. Because it's not funny. It's not. He's just being an ass, as usual. But there's something about the quick back-and-forth that feels... familiar. Easy. Like verbal sparring but without the weight of having to actually look at each other.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗?

There's a pause. Longer this time. You imagine him glancing at the girl next to him, maybe offering some half-assed excuse for his distraction. 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚙𝚕 𝚒 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝟸 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚊𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚏 𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍... 😭 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎. 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘…

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚑𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐?

Another pause. This one feels different. Heavier somehow. Like he's weighing his words, which is ridiculous because when has Jungkook ever carefully considered what comes out of his mouth?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚌 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝟸? 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 👏👏👏

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝

There’s a pause. 

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚛 𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢

And there it is. The question you knew was coming but still somehow catches you off guard. Because how do you explain Jason? How do you casually mention that you're getting extra help from an attractive TA without it sounding... like something it's not?

Not that it matters what Jungkook thinks. Because it doesn't. At all.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗. 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚊. 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 😀

You hit send before you can overthink it. But as soon as the message goes through, you feel a knot forming in your stomach. Like you've said too much. Or not enough. Or just... something.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. 

What the hell is taking him so long?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖

That's it? Hmmm? What the fuck does that even mean?

You're about to type out a snarky reply when Jason leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours.

"Everything okay?" he asks, voice low enough not to disturb the library's hushed atmosphere.

"Yeah," you say, maybe a bit too quickly. "Nothing important."

Jason nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Well, whenever you're ready, we can start with Sylvia Plath's 'Lady Lazarus.' I think you'll find her use of Holocaust imagery particularly interesting in the context of personal rebirth."

Great. Just great. Holocaust imagery and personal rebirth. Exactly what you need right now when your brain is too busy trying to decode Jungkook's monosyllabic response.

Your phone buzzes again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 

You blink at the screen. Because what the actual fuck?

And maybe you stay there, waiting for another message that doesn't come. Which is stupid because there's nothing to say. You're here to study. He's... doing whatever the hell he's doing. That's it.

So why does it feel so weird?

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "You with us?"

You look up, suddenly aware that both Jimin and Jason are watching you expectantly. Waiting for you to join them in the exciting world of modernist poetry or whatever the hell you're supposed to be doing.

"Yeah," you say, shoving your phone into your bag with more force than necessary. "I'm here. Let's do this."

But as you flip open your textbook, you can't shake the feeling that he’s here. Not watching you, because you’re nowhere near him right now. But it’s like his presence hovers in an inconvenient way.

Fuck Jungkook and his stupid, cryptic texts. Fuck him and his ability to get under your skin with just a few words. And fuck you for letting him.

You've got poems to analyze and a cute TA to impress. 

That's what you're here for. 

That's all you're here for.

So. Thirty-five minutes.

That’s all it takes.

Thirty-five minutes of Sylvia Plath and Jason’s smooth, perfectly enunciated explanations. Thirty-five minutes of Jimin occasionally sighing like he’s reconsidering his entire major. Thirty-five minutes of not thinking about Jungkook. Of not wondering if he’s still at that table, if he’s still watching, if he’s still—

Ding.

Your fingers tighten around your pen. You already know.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?

You exhale sharply through your nose, tapping your phone awake under the table.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚒’𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝟹𝟻 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎???

It takes less than three seconds for the typing bubble to appear.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘???

“Your focus seems to be slipping.”

You blink up at Jason, who’s watching you with a raised brow, his fingers still resting lightly on his open book. Jimin doesn’t even pretend to hide his judgment, lips twitching as he leans back in his chair.

“Sorry,” you mutter, stuffing your phone between the pages of your textbook like it’s a bookmark instead of a distraction. “Just—uh, go on.”

Jason doesn’t push, but Jimin gives you a look. 

Your phone buzzes again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚕𝚘𝚕. 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚞 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 “𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌”

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚖𝚛. “𝚊𝚑 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝟻 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐”

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡. 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙.

The typing bubble appears again, then disappears. Then again. Then—

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

Your heart skips.

Which is stupid. Stupid. Because why? What about that message is even remotely heart-skipping-worthy? It’s a statement. A fact. A piece of information you didn’t ask for and definitely don’t care about.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢…? 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐???

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛

And, okay. That’s fine. That’s totally, completely normal information. He’s in the bathroom. On the second floor. You’re on the second floor. That’s fine.

So why does your stomach feel weird?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚌’𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚘𝚕 𝚗𝚘?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚕𝚘𝚕 𝚢𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑??

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚘 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍

Your breath catches, pulse flickering against your throat.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎. 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 💀 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚊𝚗𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚍𝚢𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍??? 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚘𝚔? 𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒???

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚑𝚖. 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝚍𝚘. 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚗𝚊 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞 𝚍𝚘.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑. 𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 🤨

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚒𝚡.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚛𝚘.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗’ 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔

Your stomach tightens.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗. 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚘𝚠?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒’𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚔𝚢𝚜

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑… 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚄𝙿

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎.

Your thighs press together under the table. Fuck.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚌𝚖𝚘𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚡𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚋

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

Your fingers flex around your phone, the heat creeping up your spine as your pulse stutters.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚑𝚖. 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

You swallow.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑. 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚞 𝚛𝚗. 𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞’𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙿𝙸𝙶

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚑?

You freeze.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗

Jason’s voice cuts through the heat simmering in your phone.

“You’re smiling.”

Your head snaps up. “Huh?”

Jason nods toward your phone, amusement playing at the edges of his lips. “Who’s got you so entertained? Boyfriend?”

You blink. Brain short-circuits for half a second before you manage, “What? No. Not at all.”

Jimin, the absolute menace, hums. “She wishes.”

Your foot connects with his shin under the table. Hard.

“Jesus—” He winces, rubbing his leg. 

Jason chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “So you’re single, then?”

His tone is casual. Smooth. Like he’s just making conversation, not fishing. But you see it. The way his gaze lingers just a little too long, like he’s waiting to gauge your reaction.

You shrug, feigning indifference even as your pulse betrays you. “Yeah.”

Jason’s smile widens slightly. “Interesting.”

Your phone dings again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗?

Your jaw clenches. You exhale through your nose. Mutter a quiet, ‘motherfucker,’under your breath.

Jimin raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shoot off a reply before you can overthink it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘🖕

Then you lock your phone, shove it into your lap, and try to ignore the way your stomach flips.

next | index

⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @jkrailme @rpwprpwprpwprw @mar-lo-pap @jeontae @whothefuckisthishoe @mikrokookiex

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (18 - The Civil War)

Chapter Summary: “She shouldn’t feel like she’s a threat," you said. Natasha tilted her head slightly, considering you. “She doesn’t just feel it, Y/N. She’s been told it. Over and over. The Accords, Vision, everything. It’s going to take more than two weeks to undo all that.”

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 5k+ | Chapter Tags: Slight angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: Hell yeah I'm finally done with midterm week! So, as promised, here's an update for Sunday that I was supposed to post last Wednesday. Thank you all for waiting! // More author's notes here. GIF credits to the owner. Let me know is this is yours!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The debate over the Sokovia Accords had always seemed like a bureaucratic exercise to you—a lot of grandstanding and red tape, destined to drag on without anything concrete coming of it. But when it ended in literal casualties, moments after the UN summit in Vienna, you realized how naive that assumption had been.

The explosion dominated every news channel, every forum, for weeks. Footage of the carnage played on a relentless loop, like a ruthless reminder that refused to let the world move on. It stoked their anger and fear of the superpowered intensifying—further solidifying the need for a regulation of some sorts. 

And then there was Steve—Captain America—standing between the law and a man the world had already convicted in its collective mind. Protecting a criminal—or so it seemed at first glance. But if you squinted, if you dug beneath the hysteria, you could see the loopholes in the story.

You were taught to never take things at face value. To investigate, to question, to confirm. The video evidence of James Barnes near the scene of the bombing was damning, but not airtight. The timing was too perfect and the evidence too clean—as if it was designed to be found. And then there was the sheer improbability—someone like Barnes being sloppy enough to leave a clue, to incriminate himself by carrying out such large-scale destruction carelessly.

If it really was him, you figured, no one would know. The world wouldn’t have a name to blame or a face to crucify. 

Steve believed it too. He didn’t just think Barnes was innocent—he knew it. Or at least he believed in him enough to stake his own reputation on it. 

The manhunt for Barnes split the Avengers right down the middle. Tony and Natasha were working with the UN and the German authorities, pushing for Barnes’ immediate capture, while Steve enlisted Sam’s help to find him first and uncover the truth once and for all.

Which left you stuck at the compound with Wanda and Vision—because, of course, that’s just how your luck worked.

—

You’d been keeping to yourself, burying your head in books and doing whatever busywork you could find to keep from dwelling on it all. It wasn’t a peaceful kind of quiet, though—not even close. It was rife with tension, and you hated that your main orders were to stay put. 

You’d seen Vision and Wanda together more lately. They were spending time in the kitchen, of all places. Vision seemed to have developed a fascination with cooking, and Wanda, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, had decided to humor him. 

That’s how you ended up at the world’s most uncomfortable dinner.

The table stretched long, built to fit the entire team, and you settled a few spots away from them. Vision had made something intricate, his approach to food as overly analytical as you’d expect. Wanda had contributed in small ways—chopping vegetables, stirring sauces—but it was clear who had taken the lead.

You sat across from them, awkwardly poking at the meal on your plate. It was good, technically. Perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked. But the scene around the table made it hard to enjoy. Vision sat still, weirdly choosing this time not to participate in this human activity. He looked perfectly content watching his two eaters, wanting to see if he had earned their approval. Wanda wasn’t eating much. She was pushing her food around, her eyes darting toward him, then to you, then back to her plate.

“Is it to your liking?” Vision asked. 

“It’s fine,” you said, knowing full well it was much better than that but not feeling generous enough to say so.

“Wanda assisted with the preparation,” he added, almost as if he thought that might tip the scales.

You glanced at her. She gave a small, half-hearted smile and shrugged. “Just chopping and stuff,” she said.

After that, the conversation died again.

It had felt like a good time to disassociate, and you let your mind drift off somewhere else. More specifically, to the growing rift between Tony and Steve. The misunderstandings were no longer petty disagreements but fundamental divides. If push came to shove, you still hadn’t decided where you stood.

You used to joke about Tony and Steve acting like divorced husbands, bickering over every little thing. Now, the irony wasn’t so funny. They were barreling toward something that resembled a real divorce, and you could almost see them dividing the team like children—figuring out who got custody of whom.

But you? You were always the lone wolf. It seemed more likely you’d walk away from them both, let them fight their battles while you disappeared into the shadows. You’d done it before, and the thought of doing it again didn’t terrify you. And maybe that was the problem.

A sharp noise from outside yanked you out of your thoughts. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to put everyone on edge. Vision’s head cocked slightly, as if concentrating to learn more about what they all just heard.

“Stay here,” he ordered calmly.

“Wait—” you started, but before you or Wanda could get another word out, he disappeared, phasing cleanly through the nearest wall and leaving you both sitting in uneasy silence.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You glanced at Wanda, her fork frozen midair, her eyes trained on the spot where Vision had disappeared. Finally, you exhaled and nudged your plate aside. “This is the best meal I’ve had in a long time,” you murmured.

Wanda’s head snapped up. Then, to your surprise, a laugh slipped out of her—short, almost involuntary, like it had been startled into existence. “I could tell,” she said, her lips curving into something that might’ve been a smile.

It was angelic and utterly contagious. You smiled back, soft and unplanned, like your body decided for you. It’s the most interaction you’d had with her for a while after bringing her to the orphanage weeks ago. 

God, you’d missed her. 

Out of the corner of your eye, something shifted. Without thinking, you were on your feet, moving to Wanda’s side, positioning yourself as a human shield. It was a ridiculous gesture—pathetic, even—considering what she could do versus what you could offer. But instinct doesn’t care about logic. The drive to protect her overrode everything else, propelling you forward before your brain could catch up.

Clint Barton strolled toward you, bow slung over his shoulder, every inch of him looking like he was prepped for a mission. And judging by the timing, it didn’t take a genius to figure out—you, Wanda, and Vision were the mission.

“Clint?” you uttered in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Disappointing my kids,” he replied dryly, stepping fully into view with that familiar half-grin you hadn’t seen in ages. “Cap needs our help. Come on.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I’m not disappointed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint muttered, his eyes scanning the room, barely giving you a glance. “We need to move. Both of you. Now.”

You were on your feet before he could say anything else, your hand closing around Wanda’s wrist without a second thought. It wasn’t until you felt her skin warm under your grip that you realized what you were doing. You let go just as quickly, glancing back at her with a quiet apology in your eyes.

But Wanda wasn’t paying attention to you. She was giving Clint a hard look, her feet planted firmly on the ground.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda said, surprising you both.

“Wanda, you can’t stay here,” Clint said. “After Lagos—”

“I’ve caused enough problems,” she whispered. “Maybe it’s better if I stay out of sight. Out of everyone’s way.”

“You gotta help me, Wanda. Look, you wanna mope, you can go to high school. You wanna make amends, you get off your ass. Y/N, help me out here.”

You glanced at Wanda, trying to decipher what she’s thinking but you came up empty-handed. You turned back to Clint. “You let her decide, Clint. You don’t drag her onto your side—or anyone’s. She chooses.”

Clint chuckled, eyeing you like he already expected your answer before you did. “And what about you? Which side are you on?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to answer, but hesitated, not because you didn’t know the answer—you did. You just weren’t ready to say it out loud.

Because the truth was simple: whichever side Wanda chose, that’s where you’d be.

You’d told yourself you could walk away from this. From the Avengers, from the divide, from the mess of it all. And maybe you could. Maybe you would have.

But Wanda—

You wanted to look after her. 

You were saved from answering altogether when Vision reappeared, phased through the far wall.

“Aw, hell,” Clint muttered, his hand twitching toward his bow.

“Clint Barton,” Vision said. “You are not authorized to be here. Step away from Wanda.”

“Yeah, see, the thing is,” he said, casually shifting his stance as he engaged an arrow, “I don’t really care about authorization.”

Clint didn’t wait for Vision’s retort. He released his arrows and triggered the traps he’d set—an electrified net sprung from the ceiling, enveloping Vision in crackling energy. For a split second, you thought it might actually work.

It didn’t.

Vision freed himself out of the net like it was tissue paper, the electricity harmlessly dissipating around him. 

“Yeah, well, worth a shot,” Clint muttered, already nocking an arrow. He let it fly, but Vision caught it midair with a speed that was almost unfair. 

Clint moved fast, dodging Vision’s strikes with a skill that came from years of experience. He didn’t try to overpower him—he wasn’t stupid—but he kept Vision moving, trying to distract him, to buy time. 

Vision held back, almost smug—you'd think he was waiting for Clint to tire himself out, running circles that led nowhere.

“Y/N, a little help?” Clint called, ducking under a swipe from Vision that could’ve caved his skull. Before you could even think to move, Vision had Clint in a chokehold, his vibranium arm coiling around Clint’s throat. Clint's attempts to break free looked almost pathetic, his fists thumping uselessly against Vision's arm.

You froze for a split second, looking at Wanda. Was this what she wanted? Her face gave you nothing, and in that moment of indecision, Clint’s choking gasps snapped you into action.

You rushed forward, grabbing onto Vision’s arm and hauling yourself up, trying to throw him off balance. He barely budged. Desperation took over as you reached behind your back, pulling a small blade from your pocket.

Vision caught the motion instantly. His free arm shot out, grabbing your wrist and twisting it sharply. Pain shot through your arm as the knife clattered to the floor.

You gritted your teeth, trying to fight through the pain. “Let him go, Vision!”

Clint’s face was red now, his struggles weakening. You kicked at Vision’s side, but it was like hitting a brick wall.

“Vision, that’s enough!”

Vision's grip loosened for just a moment, enough for you to catch your breath, before it cinched tighter. You bit back a whimper, already feeling the marks that would bloom across your skin.

"I said, that’s enough," Wanda commanded as red energy crackled menacingly at her fingertips. 

Vision moved to finish the job and the energy surged from Wanda’s hands, slamming into Vision and lifting him clean off the ground. The moment his hold broke, you and Clint crumpled like discarded ragdolls. 

“If you do this, they will never stop being afraid of you,” Vision said. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell Vision he was wrong, but Wanda spoke first.

“I can’t control their fear,” Wanda murmured. Her shoulders sagged as she sighed wearily, looking like she already regretted what she was about to do, knowing it would hurt Vision. “Only my own.”

The ground opened up like a wound, swallowing Vision whole. Wanda’s power didn’t just push him down—it buried him. The compound’s reinforced flooring crumbled like dry leaves, and the sound of his descent—steel on steel, concrete splitting apart—made your stomach churn.

You sat up, head pounding, ribs screaming. Clint was coughing beside you, dragging himself upright with a hand braced against the wall. Neither of you spoke. What could you say?

Wanda stood over the crater she’d made, her hands slack at her sides, red sparks still licking at her fingertips. Her face was blank, but you knew her well enough by now to see through it. Her breathing was too shallow, her shoulders too stiff. She wasn’t fine at all. 

It was a little jarring to think that just a few hours ago, they were cooking together in the kitchen.

“Wanda,” you started, still trying to catch your breath. “Is he—”

“He’ll survive,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Clint gave a weak chuckle, thoroughly impressed and a little horrified. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

—

Things happened dizzyingly fast after that. 

You’d only meant to get Wanda to Clint, to make sure she was safe, but everything spiraled at the airport. You hadn’t thought past that, hadn’t considered the bigger picture or the consequences of leaving the compound with her.

The fight was brutal—friends turning on friends—and you barely kept up, trying to shield Wanda when you could. You’d been hurt, subdued like a criminal, strapped into restraints that bit into your skin. But none of it mattered. Your entire focus was on Wanda—if she was okay, if she was hurt, if she blamed you for any of it.

When they threw you in The Raft, the humiliation of it barely registered. All you could see was Wanda, restrained in that awful straitjacket, her face pale and blank, her hands trembling. It must have been harder on her than anyone else—treated like a criminal with the weight of Lagos hanging over her head. In that moment, you made your choice—Steve had your loyalty now, no matter what came next. But even that didn’t compare to how fiercely you had Wanda’s back. That was something else entirely.

Now, two weeks later, Valencia felt like limbo. A place to breathe—

—with a target on your backs, well, not really.

—

Valencia might’ve been halfway around the globe, but you treated it like hostile territory all the same. Your face—along with the rest of those who backed Steve in his fierce objection to the Sokovia Accords—had hit every newsfeed, and you couldn’t afford to relax here or anywhere else, for that matter. You dressed down, stuck to side streets, and kept your head low. It was Spain, but it might as well have been home—just another place where you were never really safe.

“Have you heard from Clint?”

Natasha nodded before turning the page of the newspaper she’d been reading since this morning. “Yeah. He’s working out a deal with the government.”

You frowned. “What kind of deal?”

“Something about a plea bargain,” she said. “House arrest, probably. It’s the only way he gets to be with his family.”

Clint had fought for all of you, risked everything to stand with Steve, to break Wanda out. It hadn’t fully sunk in just how much he’d sacrificed until now—how much he put on the line for what he believed in.

“That’s messed up,” you muttered, mindlessly stirring the honey you’ve put in your tea a few minutes ago. You’d yet to take a sip.  “If Clint’s willing to sacrifice being with his family, how can Tony not see what we’re standing for?”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Tony sees it. He just sees something else too.”

“Like what?”

Natasha didn’t respond right away. She just looked at you, her gaze steady, like she was weighing her next words. “You weren’t there.”

For a moment, you were confused. “Where?”

“In the Battle of New York. When the sky opened up, and Earth faced the greatest threat it had ever seen—and wasn’t ready for.”

Natasha sighed and took her sunglasses off—a risky move as the cafe was in the middle of a crowded street—but she needed you to more than just hear the words out of her mouth, you needed to see how this wasn’t some trivial disagreement between two people who cared about the same thing. “Tony was at the front lines, throwing everything he had into the fight. There were so many casualties. We couldn’t save everyone, no matter how hard we tried. And the guilt of that... it doesn’t wash off, no matter how many victories come after.”

You frowned, gripping your mug a little tighter. “So his solution is what? Autocracy?”

Natasha laughed and put her glasses back on. “I wasn’t aware you knew what autocracy was,” she teased. “Though, if you really did, you’d know what Tony wants is far from it. This is an entirely different situation.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the faint smirk tugging at your own lips. “If you understand Tony so well, why are you here with us?”

“I’m not here because I switched sides,” she said simply. “I’m here because you need me more than Tony does.”

And she was right. You did. It was bad enough that Clint wasn’t here. You hadn’t realized how much they’d become your safety net until you were on your way and it hit you—you were on your own now. No longer celebrated as a hero but a renowned fugitive. Natasha’s grounding presence was the only thing keeping your nerves from unraveling completely.

“Are you going to drink that?” Natasha asked after a while.

You glanced down at your tea, still stirring the spoon aimlessly. It was cold by now. You shrugged. She waved to the waiter and asked for the bill.

“I tried to convince Wanda to go out today,” Natasha said casually, like she wasn’t sure how you’d take it. “Thought a walk might do her some good.”

You looked up from your tea, surprised. “And?”

“She passed.”

You sighed loudly. “It’s been two weeks.”

“It’s not enough time for some people.”

You didn’t say anything right away, not wanting to push or show how much that affected you. Two weeks felt like forever when you were going over everything in your head when you first got out of the country. For Wanda, it must’ve felt like a lifetime—and not in the way that healed anything.

“Did she say why?” you asked quietly. 

Natasha’s lips twitched, like she wasn’t sure whether to smile or sigh. “She didn’t have to. She thinks stepping outside is dangerous. For her, for everyone. And maybe she’s not wrong.”

“She shouldn’t feel like she’s a threat,” you said.

Natasha tilted her head slightly, considering you. “She doesn’t just feel it, Y/N. She’s been told it. Over and over. The Accords, Vision, everything. It’s going to take more than two weeks to undo all that.”

—

The hotel you’d been staying at for the past three nights was tucked away from the town center, far enough that the food you’d picked up for Wanda had gone cold by the time you got back. The isolation had its perks, though. This part of town had a quiet charm, with streets adorned in LED lights strung like Christmas was a permanent state of mind here.

The team had split up to stay under the radar. Steve accompanied Bucky to Wakanda, bartering a deal with T’Challa. Sam was stationed in a modest inn on the opposite side of the city, while you, Natasha, and Wanda ended up here, in a small, charming hotel surrounded by cobblestone streets and 15th-century architecture. With no mission except to stay hidden, it should’ve been the perfect chance to soak in the city like a tourist, to appreciate the timeless beauty around you.

But instead, you found yourself standing outside Wanda’s hotel room, the takeout bag dangling from your hand. You took a shaky breath, then another, willing your heartbeat to slow. It wasn’t working. Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of the bag, the cheap paper threatening to give out at any second.

Why were you so nervous? It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d seen Wanda since… everything. But things were different now. She felt different, like she was retreating into herself more and more each day.

Another deep breath. You adjusted your grip on the bag, smoothed down the front of your jacket, and gave yourself a silent pep talk. She needed you, just like you needed Natasha. Like you needed Clint.

Finally, you raised your hand, but before your knuckles met the wood, the door creaked open.

Wanda stood there, barefoot, her frame almost swallowed by an oversized shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder. It was frayed at the hem, the fabric softened by too many washes. Her pajama pants—faded plaid—looked like they’d seen better days, one cuff slightly torn where it dragged against the ground. She looked as worn as her clothes, her hair in a messy bun with stray strands framing her face.

For a moment, she just blinked at you.

“You knew it was me?” you asked, your voice coming out thinner than you'd intended. 

“I had a feeling,” Wanda said with a small, knowing smile. “You breathe a little too loud.”

An embarrassed chuckle escaped you, awkward and unsteady, and you suddenly remembered the takeout bag clutched in your hand. Her gaze followed yours, and she tilted her head slightly. 

“What’s that?”

“Oh, right,” you said, your face heating up as you held it up like a peace offering. “It’s for you. Some kind of beef stew—I, uh, forgot the actual name. It’s probably cold now, though. You should—”

Before you could ramble any further, Wanda reached out and took the bag from your hands. Her fingers brushed yours briefly, and the simple touch sent you into a headspin. “Thank you,” she murmured, looking into the bag.

You swallowed hard and gave a quick nod. “You’re welcome, Maximoff.” It felt like the right moment to leave, like you’d done your part, but your feet refused to move. You stood there like a fool, heart hammering, until Wanda—thankfully—broke the silence.

“Would you like to come in, Y/N?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly, as if she wasn’t entirely sure of herself either.

Too nervous to speak, you merely nodded.

—

The room was a bit of a mess—not filthy, but definitely in disarray. Books and papers were scattered across the coffee table, a pair of shoes lay haphazardly near the door, and a jacket was draped over the back of a chair. Wanda must have noticed your gaze drifting across the space because she quickly began tidying up. She grabbed a bundle of clothes from various corners—sweatshirts, a scarf, what looked like a pair of mismatched socks—and folded them into a neat pile. With an almost embarrassed smile, she placed them on the small sofa tucked beneath the room’s single window.

“Sorry,” Wanda murmured, “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, though your eyes darted back to the room despite yourself. There was something endearing about the lived-in clutter, a reminder that Wanda, for all her power and grace, for all that had happened in recent weeks—was still human in moments like these.

She gestured awkwardly toward the sofa. “You can sit, if you want. Sorry again for the mess.”

“You really don’t have to apologize. My place is worse,” you said. It wasn’t.

Wanda offered you a half-smile as she moved to the kitchenette, pulling open a drawer to grab some utensils. “I find that hard to believe,” she teased lightly.

Busted. Your room at the compound had been practically bare. Your hotel room now was even emptier. You missed your own apartment, but could only assume it had already been raided by the feds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shot back, and she laughed softly, the sound settling something nervous and fluttering in your chest.

Wanda set the bowl on the counter and turned on the stove. You watched as she poured the stew into a small saucepan and stirred it absently. 

“You should eat some too,” she said over her shoulder. “It’ll taste better warm.”

“I already had dinner, actually.”

Wanda glanced back at you, her brow lifting in question. “With Nat?”

You nodded, feeling oddly exposed under her gaze. “Yeah.”

Her lips quirked, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How’s she doing?”

It wasn’t the kind of question that invited much of an answer—it felt more like something to say, just to fill the space. You gave a half-shrug, unsure what else to do with it. “She’s fine.”

Wanda didn’t push for more. She settled onto the sofa beside you, tucking her legs beneath her and taking a small bite of the stew.

You wanted to ask how she was. How she was holding up after everything. But you couldn’t get any word out. You didn’t know how to ask without making it sound like pity, and you didn’t want to do that to her. Still, the question burned at the edge of your thoughts.

It had to be hard, being in the middle of all this again, being wanted—hunted—just like she was when she aligned with Hydra. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Vision was on the other side now, the person who should’ve stood with her through it all, standing with the people determined to stop her. That kind of fracture would break anyone.

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. She was focused on her food, but the energy radiating off her couldn’t talk you out of asking her if she was okay.

“Wanda?” you started, “Are you—”

“I’m okay,” she said, cutting you off gently, as though she knew what you were going to ask. For a moment you considered if she was reading your mind at the moment. 

She set the bowl down and offered you a faint smile. “Really.”

You nodded, though you didn’t really believe her. The room fell quiet again, and you looked away, legs starting to bounce a little as you thought of what to say next. 

“Has Steve come up with the next plan yet?” Wanda asked.

Her question confused you for a moment, making you feel like you’ve missed something. “Plan? Plan for what?”

She shrugged, chewing her food thoughtfully. “To come back. To clear our names. To return to…” She trailed off. To return to our normal lives.

Oh. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Being an Avenger never felt anything close to normal, so you weren’t sure you ever really knew what normal was.

You wanted to assure her that Steve’s working on it, but you couldn’t lie to her either. From what you heard from Nat, Steve was preoccupied with helping Bucky’s asylum in Wakanda. And that could take a while. “I don’t think that’s possible anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

“Steve and Tony…” You exhaled slowly, trying to find the right way to explain. “Their misunderstanding—it’s serious this time. It’s not something that’s going to blow over.”

“Right,” Wanda said curtly, then fell silent, turning her attention back to her food.

Without thinking, you blurted, “Do you miss Vision?”

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide like she hadn’t been expecting you to mention Vision at any point in this conversation.

“I…” Wanda deliberated. “I do.”

You forced your jealousy down your dry throat. Of course she did. What were you thinking, even asking? Vision was her lover. They were clearly going through something, and here you were, dredging it up. You should’ve left right after giving her the food—that would’ve been the perfect time to go.

“I regret what I did to him,” Wanda said suddenly, breaking through your thoughts. “Burying him w-with…with my powers.” Her hand tightened around the spoon, the metal scraping against the edge of the bowl. “I didn’t think—I just reacted. And it wasn’t just him. I hurt the others too. At the airport.”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t what you expected. “Wanda—”

She shook her head quickly, cutting you off. “I didn’t mean to lose control. I thought I was doing the right thing. Fighting for the right side. But after everything… I don’t know if there is a right side anymore.”

Her honesty floored you. You’d spent so much time blaming Tony for losing control, for going after Bucky, that you never stopped to turn the lens on yourself. You’d had your careless moments, caused your share of injuries to civilians on missions. You were just as responsible for how things unraveled—just like Steve, Tony, and the rest of the team.

“I want to believe we’re all still on the same side,” you muttered, resting your elbows on your knees as you searched for the right words. “That we’re still fighting for the same things—for justice, to protect people, to make things better. We’ve just… messed up how we’re going about it. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. We just need to figure out how to sort it all out.”

You swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak. “I’m sure Vision forgives you for what happened. He… he loves you. And you two? You’re going to be okay.”

Her head snapped up at that. “What do you mean, ‘we’re going to be okay?’”

You winced, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck as you tried to clarify. “I just mean, yeah, sure, it might be a deal breaker for some people—getting buried alive and all—but Vision… he’s not like that. I don’t think he’d break up with you for—”

“We already broke up.”

You froze, staring at her. “What?” was all you managed to say.

Wanda sighed, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a soft clink. “We broke up. Before Clint came to get me from the compound.”

“Why?” you found yourself asking. You thought you'd feel happy, or at least relieved, but the truth left a bad taste in your mouth. Two people you cared about—yes, you’d finally admitted to yourself that you cared more than you wanted to—had ended their relationship, and somehow, that didn’t sit right with you. “I thought… I thought you two…”

“It wasn’t working,” Wanda explained. “We wanted it to, but things between us were always… complicated. And after the Accords, after everything that happened in Lagos…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It became clear that we were too different. He wanted peace. I wanted… freedom. And I guess we couldn’t find a way to have both.”

Wanting different things has a way of pulling two people off the same path. You wanted freedom too—but until you stopped chasing it, how could you want anything else? How could you want what Wanda wanted? But then, you’ve never aligned your interests with someone just to stay by their side, so why start now?

“I’m sorry,” you said finally, the words feeling small but all you had to give.

She gave you a small, tired smile. “Don’t be. It was mutual, even if it still hurts.”

You wanted to say something—to comfort her, to remind her she wasn’t alone—but it didn’t feel like the right time. Maybe this was a moment to sit with it, to let everything settle. So instead, you reached out, your hand finding hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. A quiet way of saying, I’m here.

It was the first time in weeks you’d touched her.

Wanda looked down at your hand, then back at you. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Your heart slowed, like it wanted to stretch this moment out, to hold onto the feeling of her hand beneath yours forever.

You gave her a small nod. “Always.”

[svmjaeyvn]

LOVE MAZE — 심재윤

chapter 11. truth untold. pairing: trust fund baby!jake x college student fem!reader

An unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker lead to Sim Jaeyun 'dating' his best friend's childhood crush!

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in an attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things. 

11. TRUTH UNTOLD

prev   masterlist  next word count - 2.4k note - self sabotage baddies unite!!! oh poor y/n, she’ll learn. insane work they’ve been way more than casual from the start, she’s in denial don’t hate her lol. anyway had to add some (tiny) angst cause after all this was fake dating trope. yearning jake incoming ;)

"HOW MUCH MONEY do you think Bianca would give me to break up with you and move across the world so she can force your marriage?"

"Are you telling me you could be bought?" Jake muses, raising a brow as he lazily lifts his head. You pull your gaze away from your phone, a cheeky smile forming on your features as you nod.

"As long as it's enough to buy me a plot of land, build a big ass house, and never have to work again? Hell yeah," You shrug, holding the phone out to show Bianca's user that continued to monitor your account like a hawk, not following you but ensuring to be one of the first to view any stories posted.

Jake's hands that were massaging your feet came to a halt. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at the familiar user that has done the exact same to him recently and he gently pulls the device from your grasp. You groan, watching as his nimble fingers slide across the screen, presumably going to block the account before he clicked it off. He places the phone on the coffee table, a cheeky smile sent your way as he moves his way up your body.

You rose a brow, the coldness of his hands trailing up your skin, slightly lifting up the oversized lounge shirt you were wearing over the tiny pajama shorts you've been in all day. Things have been quiet, you were almost certain the gala night would've brought significantly more problems but aside from internet stalking and Bianca and Minjun flaunting their relationship as if it were a match made in heaven, nothing had come of it.

Which you were thankful for. No more run-ins with Minjun and things have been surprisingly easy with Jake's family. You've had two dinners with his brother and Nani since then, and a handful of phone calls with his mom over the past two weeks where she's insisted on having a weekend in Jeju soon which his father strongly encouraged.

It was safe to say you hit it off in the Sim family. Part of you felt bad, lying to basically everyone, putting on a seemingly perfect relationship that no one suspected, and it made you feel worse considering you liked them.

Things were.. weird. Too real at this point, overwhelming and almost scary. You didn't realize when, but there was a definite shift in your relationship with Jake and the lines blurred into nothing. You had no idea what a fake relationship was supposed to be like, but you knew there was dangerous territory you've fallen into.

The worst part was you refused to bring it up.

"You know," Jake starts, his words hummed against your skin, breath whispered in the crook of your neck. He had you trapped beneath him, one hand wrapped around your waist while his other kept his weight balanced above you, keeping just enough pressure between you. "I have more than enough capabilities to make that your reality now, the only thing would be to keep you by my side instead of chasing you away,"

Your body tenses. Jake felt it, the shift in your demeanor, the way you managed to pull back just enough to catch a glance of his side profile. Your eyes pinched shut, a deep sigh leaving your lips.

"Jae..."

"Don't," Jake interrupts quickly. "Don't say anything," He mumbles, shaking his head as he pulls himself up. You follow, propping yourself up on your elbows and eyes tracing his figure. You felt the tug in your chest, the same unspoken conversation repeating more consistently over the past week but nothing ever came of it.

Every time you found the courage to say something; he'd stop you. The two of you knew exactly what it was, the boundary that's been crossed too many times, the fact that you were far too close for it to be casual. But he wouldn't let that harsh truth sink in yet, not while he could still play pretend and you hadn't pushed for anything less.

Jake clears his throat. His head lifts up, eyes meeting your own and sporting a less than perfect smile, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes. His hand finds your own, lifting your knuckles to his lips for a lingering kiss that seemed to sting, heat running through your body and throat dry, unable to speak even though you desperately knew it was on the brink of spilling out.

"Forget about what you want to say today, I promise I'll make it worth it,"

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

YOU SHIFTED IN your seat, thighs pressed together and hands folded neatly in your lap. You were dressed up, an elegant well fitting dress hugged your body, the shawl you grabbed in a hurry something you were thankful for considering it stayed snug over your shoulders warming you in the air conditioned restaurant.

It was busy, low mood lighting and candles on the tables being the majority of the illumination in the dimly lit building that was filled at each table. Jake had disappeared to the bathroom a moment ago, leaving you patiently waiting at the table tucked away in the corner, a little secluded from everyone else but you still felt out of place in the upscale restaurant you were certain nearly always required a reservation a few weeks out.

When Jake offered to take you out for dinner earlier, an attempt to break the tension from the morning, you agreed without much thought. You presumed it would've been casual, somewhere you've been before and both liked but when he dropped you off with a plain bag, one you weren't allowed to open until you were inside, and forced you to promise to wear it for tonight—it should've been your first indicator.

You had called Jake in a panic, noting the rather expensive looking article of clothing you didn't need but conveniently fit you to a tee. He insisted, stating it would match his own outfit as he wanted to take you someplace you can play dress up—something you mentioned in passing stating how getting fancy for a date once in a while seemed fun.

What you didn't realize was that your version of fancy was an entirely different tax bracket than his. It was hard, constantly reminding yourself he was loaded while simultaneously acting like any other average college student who survived off of air-fryable food and ramyeon. Even his car wasn't as flashy as it could've been, definitely on the pricier side considering it was a Lexus but still attainable for the average person.

So when you reached the restaurant, Jake pulling into the valet and handing off the keys to a worker prepped and ready, your door being opened by another employee who held out a hand for you to climb out, you felt the sense of money required to dine here. Sleek formal attire, required dress code, dim lighting and quiet murmurs even with the building filled.

The menu listed entrees in a confusing manner, extravagant words in an attempt to seem more pleasing but in reality they were basic dishes aside from the high quality meats and vast options of seafood. You pursed your lips as you glanced at the laminated paper, a lack of prices not doing much to ease your mind.

Jake slipped back into his seat a moment later, his white button up rolled up his forearms, his coat draped over the chair. It baffled you how well put together he seemed, it was almost annoying how slipping on slacks and a nice shirt elevated his looks—though he was attractive as is but he truly seemed in his element when in formal attire that took little effort compared to your hair and makeup that you stressed to match the elegant dress on your body.

"Somethin' on my face?" Jake smirks, velvety words ringing through your ears and pulling you from your inner thoughts. You click your tongue, gaze falling back down to the menu to instead find which entree you'd guess would be the least expensive.

The candle in the middle of your table danced, the flame flickering every so often, the illumination creating an intimate atmosphere. Jake's eyes lingered on you, tracing the slope of your cheeks, the slight pinch of your brows, and the way your hands played with the edge of the menu absentmindedly.

His foot nudged yours beneath the table. You jumped, quick to pull your leg back to ensure he wouldn't accidentally step on you considering you wore open toed heels. You frown your brows, tilting your head in question as to why he decided that was the way to gain your attention.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?" You swallow the lump in your throat at his words. He sat across from you, eyes doe-y and pooled with concern beneath the surface.

"I feel weird," You admit, embarrassed by your lack of better words. Gesturing around, you place down the menu with a small sigh. "This feels.. it's too much Jake," He stiffens, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat. "I don't understand why we're here—"

"—it's a date,"

"We're not supposed to actually be together," You finally rush out. Your eyes shut upon impulse, wincing at the harsh tone but a small part of you felt relief. The other part of you felt instant regret though as you're met by Jake looking utterly disheartened, the light in his eyes seemed to dim, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth attempting to remain composed.

"It's just a date __," He says, words clipped and you felt the sting. Your eyes darted around, now thankful for the spaced out layout and glad you two were tucked away in the corner of the restaurant for the ever dramatic conversation you were opening up for some reason.

"This isn't what we agreed to," You shake your head, gesturing to the situation you were in, the far too expensive restaurant and dress you wore. "It's not supposed to be serious, we can't play pretend on top of trying to do the same to everyone else. It's messy, and it's getting more complicated than we intended,"

Jake scoffs, leaning back in his seat and arms folding across his chest. "You agreed to weekly dates,"

"Yeah as a way to make sure we knew each other well enough to play the part," You defend, reminding yourself to keep your voice down although you felt the tension rising by the second. "An expensive date was never in my mind, I can't have you spending money on me like this. It feels wrong,"

"Why?" Jake frowns his brows. "When you're with me you should never care about anything that has to do with money?"

"I'm not you," You shake your head, the lump in your throat hot, almost choking and you prayed you didn't allow yourself to get worked up enough to cry. "I'm not you, or Jay, or Sunghoon, or anyone else for that manner that has a family to back them up. I get it, I do trust me. I grew up with Jay's family but mine? We're average, and my parents never accepted hand outs even if it was insisted. I can't, in good faith, take advantage of you like that, it's not the way I was raised and it makes me uncomfortable to think you're willing to throw your money at me as if it were nothing,"

"Because it doesn't mean anything to me," Jake shrugs and you scoff, agitated by how he seemed to not get your point. He interjects before you could argue. "No—listen, I don't care about the differences between us. You shouldn't feel embarrassed about what I spend money on, you or not. I was born into money, but I'm not an asshole, am I? And it's not like I do things without regard, my family's business is steady, and my brother doesn't want the company either way—not the responsibility of it at least, so it's mine if I want it. So please, have a little more faith in me instead of just thinking I'm an idiot rich kid who spends money on anything—anyone, 'cause I don't,"

You bite your tongue, unable to form a coherent argument while combating the stinging behind your eyes. You didn't know why, but the guilt and anger mixed into an irrational fear.

Jake's eyes watched you. He knew you well enough, hell, better than you probably would've thought. He knew what you were thinking, what you were implying, the same thing the two of you were dancing around recently to keep your relationship steady. "For the record, as cliche as it sounds, you're the first one I've decided to do any of this for—including meeting my family,"

Almost as if the universe sensed the need for a break, a formally dressed waiter stopped at the edge of your table. He introduced himself, smiling politely which you and Jake returned. He pulled himself together fairly quickly, sitting up and beginning to order drinks as well as a starter with practiced ease, you merely nodding allowing him to take charge as the waiter promised to be back shortly.

Once the two of you were alone again, you met Jake's piercing gaze. You shifted, suddenly feeling small and wishing you never mentioned anything in the first place, now stuck to eat a meal together that would surely cause indigestion and sit in awkward silence.

"This wasn't the agreement," You mumble, not going back on your word even if it was probably the wrong choice.

He scoffs once more. Jake runs a hand through his hair, a few strands falling perfectly over his forehead, his rings glistening in the candlelight. "Tell me one thing," He starts, voice significantly softer, careful almost but his stern expression never left. Jake leans closer, a hand reaching for your own. "Disregarding everything else, just purely how you feel for me, can you honestly tell me that this isn't something?"

You didn't respond. You didn't know how, there was a reason why you were perfectly fine with the fake aspect of your relationship—true, real, commitment was terrifying. You weren't great at being vulnerable, and as much as you hated to admit it, the reminisce of your ex made it difficult to wholeheartedly accept someone actually cared for you above sex and convenience. 

Jake knew that. He knew you, and as much as he could try to get you to understand, you wouldn't. Not at this point at least, so he merely nods. The waiter returned with glasses filled with liquid, engaging in small talk that Jake was receptive of. You sat quietly, nodding when needed and smiling to not put a damper on the worker who was merely doing his job.

This would be a conversation for another day. Something you'd dread, something you've been mulling over, but he’d be damned to let you push him away now.

[dollzstrology]

ꕥ — Found Someone Better / The Foundation

Artists — Tonowari x fem!avatar!reader

Genre — Chapter Three

Lyrics — For the past couple of weeks you’ve been on the island Tonowari has been your karyu, showing you the ways of the Metkayina. With each lesson there’s a growing tension between you, causing you to feel bold enough to make a move.

Music Advisory — Pre-Atwow, slight timeskip (a few weeks), teacher/student dynamic (in the beginning), mentions/implied widow!tonowari, small scene of domestic violence (flashback w/ Neytiri), crying, slight hurt w/ comfort, kissing, awkward tension, love confession, new side character;

・Some of the topics above can be considered triggering to some. If you don’t agree with any of the content above or it makes you uncomfortable please dni! You’re responsible for your own consumption!

Duration — 7.1k words

Index — Kelku - Home・Karyu - Teacher・ Tewng - Loincloth

Words From Artist — After a long wait chapter three is finally here! Thank you to everyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged chapters one and two, I appreciate all the love and support! This chapter took a long time to write because I wanted to make sure it was at its best once it was posted. This chapter is an important part of their story which is why it’s longer than my other chapters, I would highly encourage reading the entire chapter.

・Also, I’m beginning to write future chapters and special addition chapters that will take place between volume 1 and volume 2 of the series and I want to incorporate any ideas you all may want to see so if you have any ideas feel free to send them to my inbox and I’ll work them into future chapters any way I can!

I hope y’all enjoy and always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions!

Current Platforms — Chapter One ・Chapter Two・ Series M.list ・Series Taglist・Main M.list

“You must breathe from here,” Tonowari places one hand on his stomach, puffing out his chest as he inhales and straightens out his back, showing you where you must focus your energy. “Let your mind go clear and your heart rest.” You’ve been with Tonowari for the past few hours, learning about all the different aspects about becoming Metkayina from fishing to swimming. You were anxious in the beginning because you were worried that your fondness for Tonowari would be shown through your actions but so far it’s been going well, you’ve been able to keep your emotions under control.

You’ve been trying your best to replicate the breathing technique he’s displaying but for some reason you just can’t get it right, you keep breathing from your lungs instead of your diaphragm and it’s frustrating because you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him. When Tonowari notices your struggle he decides to help you, like any good karyu would. “From here, y/n.” His low tone vibrates through the air while pressing his large, callous hand on your abdomen, making a shiver run down your spine. You weren’t expecting him to touch your stomach and you most certainly didn’t expect his hand to be inches away from the waistband of your tewng. When you think things can’t get anymore nerve wracking, you feel his other hand make contact with your chest, mindlessly resting his hand right above your cleavage. “Your heartbeat is fast, try to focus.”

“Sorry.” You mutter out while looking down at the sand beneath you to avoid his gaze as a purple hue spreads across your cheeks from embarrassment. How can you possibly focus on breathing when you have this beautiful man hunched over your frame and looking down at you with a powerful gaze? As Tonowari instructs you to breathe in and out, inhale deeply and exhale slowly, your eyes wander his figure, watching the rise and fall of his broad chest that was partially covered with intricate tattoos. “Am I doing better now?” You ask timidly, hoping you’re doing the right thing and not making the same mistakes you were earlier.

“Much better, I think it’s time we move on to your next lesson.”

—

You and Tonowari have moved to the shallow end of the water so he can teach you how to ride the Marine Na’vi’s mode of transportation. The Olo’eyktan begins to whoop and click his tongue, drawing the attention of one of the many animals in the surrounding area. “This is an ilu, you must ride this in order to go to different places within the reef.” As Tonowari explains what to do, you mount the ilu, making sure you feel comfortable before reaching behind your back and grabbing your kuru. “Make the bond gently.” He instructs while holding the ilu’s kuru at an angle. You lean your hand forward, allowing your tendrils to connect with the ilu, causing a soft crackle sound to fill the air as tsaheylu forms. When the bond is successful the ilu begins to squirm underneath you as their pupils grow wide from your emotions intertwining with theirs.

“Feel her breath, feel her strength.” You take a deep breath while closing your eyes, allowing your mind to become one with the sea creature. “Hold here.” He places his hand on the handle of the ilu’s saddle and you copy his actions, wrapping your hand around the brown leather material. “Your posture is incorrect, it must be strong when you dive.” Tonowari was going to talk you through getting into the correct position but since his hands were free with nothing to do —and he wanted another excuse to feel your skin— he decides to put you in the correct placement.

His right hand comes across your lower back while his left hand grips your thigh before scooting you up on the seat of the saddle. “Now remember, when you dive back in, good position. Very important.” He wanted to emphasize his words because he doesn’t want you to fall off and hurt yourself. You nod your head in response, taking in his words before you command the ilu to dive into water. The feeling of riding an ilu was much different than anything you’ve experienced, feeling its body move up and down to generate momentum and propels through the water is something you’ll definitely have to get accustomed to. After riding for a few minutes you start getting the hang of it, when you feel confident in your stance you click your tongue, causing the ilu to leap out the water and dive back in.

As Tonowari watches from the shallow end, he nods happily, proud that you got the hang of it so quickly. He wasn’t expecting you to figure out how to properly ride so soon in your lesson since you weren’t used to the reef and doing these types of activities in the water but you’ve proved him wrong. After a while of riding Tonowari motions to get you to come back in since it’s almost time for your son and his children to come home from school. You come back to the shore, gently breaking the bond with your ilu and bringing your leg from over the animal’s body and walk back towards land.

Since Tonowari ends your lesson for the day, both of you spend the next hour or so walking around the village exchanging stories about each other’s clan, telling each other numerous amounts of information. The two of you were soaking up everything the other was saying, wanting to learn more about each other’s culture. You begin to enlighten him on everything you know about the Omatikaya, from the perspective of being a clan member and as a human who was also a scientist. The topic changes from the different flora and fauna to how the clan gathers together to add their unique designs to the mother loom that’s given a place of honor in the common area of Hometree.

While you’re getting consumed into your sweet memories of the forest you don’t even realize you were only a few feet away from your kelku. In your mind you see this as a perfect opportunity to show Tonowari some memorabilia of your time with the clan. You invite him into your marui and begin showing him blankets you weaved, jewelry you’ve crafted, and a few more pieces you think he would enjoy seeing. As Tonowari listens to your stories and sees the bright smile that adorns your face he begins to wonder why you left the forest. From his perspective it seems like you had a wonderful time when you lived among the Omatikaya so he’s curious as to what pushed you into fleeing. His desire to know what happened in the forest that led you here is starting to get the best of him, the question is echoing in his mind and he knows it won’t end until he properly asks.

“y/n, I must ask. If the forest was filled with such fond memories, why did you leave?” As the words are coming from the Olo’eyktan’s mouth he can feel a ping of nervousness strike his chest, having a feeling that the topic could be shaky territory by the way he watches your body grow tense at the mention of why you left. You weren’t expecting him to ask your reasoning behind your move at this moment so it caught you off guard. The forest was filled with amazing, beautiful memories you’ll forever cherish but there’s also been dark times that you wish you could forget.

“Neytiri, I feel like I’m the only adult in this house that cares for Lo’ak. You and Jake stay away from him as if he’s a disease but both of you practically smother the other kids with attention. It’s not fair to him, he deserves all his parents to show him love, not just me!” You were getting frustrated with your mates treatment toward Lo’ak, you know Jake would be a tough cookie to crack but during most situations Neytiri is the level headed one out of the pairing so you were hoping that if you expressed your concerns to her she would be able to receive what you're saying instead of ignoring it.

“My parenting is the same with all the children, I do not favor one more than the other.” You can see her tail beginning to wip behind her, her ears flattening against her skull, and her face expressions quickly changing. All of those elements put together could only mean one thing, she’s angry. You hate when she gets upset, unlike Jake she reacts before she thinks of the consequences and when she lashes out she doesn’t care if you get hurt in the process. “What are you trying to imply, y/n? That I am a bad mother, that I cannot provide motherly love for them?!” The hiss that follows her question is sharp and quick, her tone is slightly calm but you can still hear the anger that’s trembling behind it which makes you a little more worried but you have to stand your ground, she needs to know what she does affects your son.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad mother but…” You had to stop yourself for a second because you feel like you’re about to tell a lie. If she’s treating Lo’ak differently than the others than she is a bad mother no matter which way you try to spin the matter. Maybe Neytiri will finally get it if you tell her to her face and not sugarcoat things like you usually do to spare her feelings. “Actually, I take that back. If a mother plays favorites among her children that makes her a bad mother because she isn’t treating them equally so yes, you are a bad mother!”

This is what set Neytiri off, she’s so pissed that she couldn’t even control her body and what she did in response to your remark. The Na’vi woman opens her palm and sends a harsh slap across your face, it was so quick that you didn’t see it coming but once it makes contact the impact is so strong it forcibly makes you turn your head in the direction of the hit, bringing ample amounts of pain to your cheek, causing a tint of purple to rise to the surface. You stand there in a state of shock, tears clouding your vision as you look at Neytiri’s who’s yelling at the top of her lungs. “How dare you say that to me?! I am a good mother!”

“You’re not Neytiri, stop lying to yourself and to me! When you’re out with Neteyam, Kiri, and Tuk, taking them for little adventures around the forest, you purposefully leave him home with Jake! What type of good mother does that?! And you only have the balls to do it when I’m not home because you know I wouldn’t let that slide!” You shout at her before moving your hand over your cheek, feeling some pain from the aftermath of the slap. “And you want to know something else?” You move closer to her, closing the gap between both of you. “A good mother would never hit the mother of their child and a good mate would never lay a hand on their wife!” The more you yell at Neytiri with a tone laced with anger, the more you comprehend that she hit you, your wife, the woman who’s supposed to love and keep you safe decides to inflict pain on you. “How could you hit me, Neytiri?! I’m your wife, you’re supposed to protect me not harm me!”

You haven’t thought about that day in a long time. You pushed it deep down in your memory bank, trying to forget the first time your ex-wife put her hands on you but when Tonowari asked you about your reason behind leaving the forest it brought the argument to the front of your mind. That memory along with others are painful, they cause you so much heartache that you wish they could be erased so your brain doesn’t have the chance to remember the hurt you felt during those moments. As you begin to come back to reality you feel something drip onto your arm, making you realize that your eyes have produced tears and they’ve been streaming down your face this whole time.

Tonowari can see the loss of light in your eyes, the tears freely flowing down your cheeks, and the way your body shivers at the mention of your past life in the forest. He didn’t mean to bring up any bad feelings or memories, he didn’t mean to make tears escape your pretty golden eyes, he was only curious about what took place that made you come to the reefs and now it’s clear to him that it wasn’t something pleasant. “I apologize for bringing up the topic, I didn't mean to make you upset or—”

“It’s okay, Tonowari. I know that you didn’t mean any harm.” You cut him off from his apology, not needing to hear anymore. You know that he’s curious and wants answers, you feel as if you owe him that because he accepted you and your little ‘itan with open arms but you're just not ready to reveal that part of your life story.

“You can tell me whenever you feel comfortable, no rush.” Tonowari places his hand on your bicep, squeezing it gently as a form of reassurance and to let you know that he’s here for you. He can see that you have a story to tell and he’ll be ready to listen whenever you’re ready to share.

“Thank you, that means a lot.” You give him a small smile, allowing him to see a little peek of your canines before you place your hand over his. As you look the Metkayina man in the eyes your heart rate starts to rise at a fast pace and you can feel your stomach tying in knots. In this moment you feel like a teenager again, all the emotions that come with liking someone hitting you all at once. Tonowari’s a sweet man, he’s slowly seeping his way into your heart and honestly you're not opposed to it.

You’ve known him for weeks now and you love everything about him, how great he is with his children, his kind and gentle nature, how he’s an authority figure within the clan but doesn’t let the power get to his head, you’re not only physically attracted to him but also to his personality. With both of your hands touching, feeling the warmth radiating from the other's skin, it's like sparks of electricity are burning through your skin. His touch makes you want to melt and you haven’t felt this way in years, that jittery feeling that sits and stirs in the pit of your stomach when looking at someone almost feels foreign to you but it’s nice, you’re glad that you can still feel all these emotions about someone after Jake and Neytiri, maybe it’s possible that you have another shot at being in love.

Seeing that your tears are still dampening your cheeks makes Tonowari's heart clench with pain knowing that he can’t do anything to dissolve the sadness that’s overshadowing you, especially since he’s the one who caused said tears by questioning your past. He doesn’t like seeing your beautiful face stained with tears so he resolves the issue by using his unoccupied hand to wipe them away. It comes as a surprise to you, before you can process what’s coming you feel his hand caress your face, his thumb gently gliding against your cheek and underneath your eye, wiping away the tears on one side of your face before moving on to the next.

His soft touch sends a shiver throughout your body, his callous hand feels so warm against your face and his eyes glisten with a sense of care and kindness. Your body is feeling things that your brain is barely able to comprehend, it’s wanting to act on emotions regardless of what your mind is telling you. Your eyes flicker between his eyes and lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone else’s lips against yours, it would be nice to feel some sparks again, to get that electrified feeling in your veins when you kiss someone. ‘Do it. Kiss him.’ The thought echoes through your mind while trying to decipher if it’s a good idea. Before you psych yourself out and say no you just mumble “screw it.”, place one of your hands on one side of his face, and kiss him.

His lips feel so good against yours, that spark you were hoping to feel is there, you can feel it surging through your veins and causing your heart to thump against your ribcage. The kiss creates a warmth spread through your body, it makes you feel good about making the split decision to kiss Tonowari until you begin to have second thoughts about it. You start to realize that you don’t feel Tonowari’s hand touching you in a loving manner, his body seems slightly tense, and his lips aren’t making an effort to reciprocate the kiss as you would like. In your mind all those things put together must mean that he doesn’t want to kiss you and that he definitely doesn’t see you in a romantic way like you hoped he did, causing all the tingling emotions you felt earlier to quickly seize and your body to run cold with embarrassment.

You quickly pull from Tonowari and start spewing out an apology, hoping it’ll make the moment less awkward even though you doubt that’ll happen. “Tonowari I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m such an idiot-” You spring to your feet and nervously run your hands through your braids, something you tend to do when you're in uncomfortable situations.

“It’s alright, y/n-”

“No, Tonowari it’s not. It was stupid of me to-”

“Mama!” Lo’ak runs inside the marui with speed and bursting to the seams with energy, wanting to ask you something. When you hear his little voice you mentally thank Ewya for the intervention so you don’t have to deal with the discomfort between you and Tonowari right now.

“Yes, Lo’ak?” You reply to his call while turning to face the entryway of the room you're in and giving your son your undivided attention.

“Can I go play with Rotxo for a little while?” Since being here Lo’ak has made a few friends, including Rotxo who was nice to him when he first started attending school. The two boys usually always play together while at school but today they went to play by the beach and roam the island a little and they know they need parental supervision for that which is why he’s asking you for permission.

With Lo’ak wanting to hang out with his friend this gives you the perfect opportunity to get out of this embarrassing situation with Tonowari and will allow you to clear your head a little and figure out what to do going forward. “Yeah, you can play with him. I’ll change into something different and then we can leave. Okay?” Lo’ak nods his head and goes to another area of the marui and starts gathering a few of his favorite toys and places them in a woven bag so he can show Rotxo later.

With Lo’ak now gone it just leaves you and Tonowari again and before he has the chance to rehash the previous conversation you decide to speak up. “It would be best if you leave now.” Your eyes avoid meeting his gaze and you can barely get out the words before feeling a wave of nausea thinking about how you physically expressed your feelings for a man that doesn’t feel the same way.

Tonowari doesn’t show any resistance and respects your wishes, not wanting to make you feel worse at this current moment and decides to speak with you later when you both can talk in private. He gives you a slight nod, acknowledging your words and showing that he hears you before leaving like you asked. When you watch the entryway flap close behind him as he walks outside you let out a frustrated sigh and run your hand down your face, wondering how you could possibly be able to see and talk to Tonowari again since now he clearly knows you have romantic feelings for him.

You want to figure this out as soon as possible so you can calm your nerves but right now you have to put that on pause and go into mother mode for Lo’ak and meet his new friend and his mother. You take a deep breath and rest your mind, shifting your attention to getting ready to go into the village and mingle with your new clan members. Once you change into a new matching set and drink a few sips of water you're ready to take Lo’ak to his playdate and try to forget about your crash and burn moment with the Olo’eyktan.

—

It’s sunny around this time of day, the ocean water is slightly warm and the aquatic life is very active, fish swimming calmly in the water, energetic Ilu leaping out the water every so often, and sea otters sunbathing and basking in the sun's light. When you and Lo’ak make it to the heart of the village you can see Rotxo who’s standing next to an older woman who you assume to be his mom and when him and Lo’ak make eye contact they immediately run to each other before dashing off to play, making you chuckle at their eagerness. “Lo’ak, stay where I can see you!” You shout to him because you know if you don’t he’ll start roaming all over the island and you won’t know where he is.

“Padma, it’s nice to meet you.” The woman says as she walks over to you, starting up a conversation. You’ve seen her around the village a handful of times since you arrived but you both never crossed paths before so this is the first time you’ve talked with her.

She extends her hand out for you to shake and you comply, wrapping your hand around hers in a firm shake before introducing yourself and telling her your name. “It’s nice to meet you as well, it seems like our boys are getting along nicely.”

“Yes they are. I’m glad they found each other.” She says with a soft smile before she turns and picks up the woven basket next to her that is filled with multiple different fruits and places it on her hip so she can take it home with her. “Would you like to come to my mauri and help me prepare a snack for the boys?” Padma assumes that after all the playing the boys will be doing they’ll be hungry and want a little treat.

Padma watches how your facial expression changes and notices the look of concern that comes across your face when you focus your attention over to Lo’ak showing Rotxo his wooden ikran toys, knowing that you want to keep an eye on him at all times. “Don’t worry, my mauri faces where they are playing so you’ll be able to watch him and make sure he’s safe.” When you hear that it makes you feel better, which means you agree to going with Padma to her home.

It only takes a few minutes to make it to her mauri and when you walk inside Padma invites you to come sit down next to her in the common area and places the basket of fruit between the both of you. She takes her knife out of its sheath and begins to cut away the skin of fruit while you start cutting another fruit into cubes. “So, y/n, how are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s taken me a while to learn and adjust to all the new lifestyle aspects but other than that I’ve been enjoying my time here so far.” Being among the Metkayina has been different but it’s been fun, being here makes you feel more free to be yourself and you don’t feel the need to have your guard up or always have to be fearful about going home at the end of the day. Going home to a relaxed environment is something you’ve always wished for since your past relationship started to derail so to have that now makes your spirit feel at peace.

“That’s good to hear, have you made any friends yet?”

“No, I don’t think the women in the clan are too fond of me yet.” Most of the Matkayina women haven’t been very receptive to your presence amongst the clan yet. Whenever you're walking around the village, trying to complete your daily tasks until you find a permanent role in the clan, some of them will stare at you while others will exchange hushed words while you walk by. You know the reason they aren’t receptive to you is because you’re a dreamwalker and your DNA contains human genes and honestly you don’t feel any sort of way about it because you dealt with the same thing when you first joined the Omatikaya. It took a while for them to warm up to you and start befriending you so you know it’ll be the same here. The only difference is that at least with the Omatikaya you still had your scientist friends in the lab so you weren’t completely alone but here you don’t really have any form of friendships except for Tonowari which you’re grateful for, regardless of your current situation with him but you would like you to find some women to hangout with.

“Well, consider me your first friend here.” Padma says with a smile, wanting you to feel welcome and that you have someone in your corner and like you have a sense of community here so you don’t have to be alone. Hearing that makes a small smile curl onto your lips and you begin to feel like you’re officially starting to build a new life here.

For the next hour or so you and Padma talk about multiple topics, asking questions and sparking up conversations to help the both of you bond and get to know each other better. While you're listening to Padma talk about how she met her mate and their love story, you begin to think about what happened between you and Tonowari earlier. You know that you can’t ignore him and that you have to talk to him about it but you have no idea what you’re going to say the next time you see him. While Padma is talking she notices how your mind is elsewhere and that you've zoned out of the conversation. She can see that something is on your mind and she feels like it would be rude of her not to ask and see if there was any way she could help. “y/n, is everything okay? I can tell your mind somewhere else.”

Before answering her question you wonder if you should tell Padma what’s troubling you, that you're having trouble in the love department which is kind of surprising to you since you’ve only been living among the Metkayina for a few weeks. On one hand you don’t really want to say anything because you aren’t a fan of telling your business but on the other hand you don’t know what to do about Tonowari and it would be good to get some advice. “There is something bothering me.” A small sigh escapes your lips before placing your knife down and putting the fruit you’ve prepared in a wooden bowl. “I have feelings for someone here, me and him are getting along well but I think I messed things up with him.” You decided talking to her about what’s going on would be best but to protect your privacy and Tonowari’s, especially with him being Olo’eyktan, you decided to keep his name out of the conversation.

Padma wasn’t expecting you to need advice relationship wise, not because she didn’t see you finding love with someone on the island but because you haven’t been here long but nonetheless she’s willing to help you in whatever way she can. “What do you mean ‘you messed things up’? What happened? If you’re willing to share of course.” You begin to tell her what happened with Tonowari, specifically the part where sparks flickered between you two and that you kissed him out of the blue, not wanting to give away too many details but give the important parts that’ll help Padma understand what’s going on between you and Tonowari.

As you talk and explain Padma listens carefully, wanting to make sure she hears everything before giving her opinion on the matter. Once you finish talking she gathers her thoughts and starts giving her advice. “I think that you just need to talk it out with him, it could’ve been a reason why he didn’t kiss back. When you kissed him he could’ve just been taken by surprise because he didn’t expect it.”

“You’re right, that could be it. I’ll talk to him and hopefully it goes the way I want it to. Thank you Padma.”

“Of course, I hope your mind is at ease now.”

“It is, and I’m hoping that this conversation stays between us.” You imply that you want the conversation that just took place to go no further than these four walls and Padma respects your wishes and promises not to speak of it with anyone. While the conversation shifts to another topic you can hear little voices and footsteps approaching and within the next few seconds Lo’ak and Rotxo come running inside asking for a snack, good thing you and Padma were already ten steps ahead and have something prepared for their rumbling stomachs.

—

The sun has started to slowly fall behind the horizon, causing the clear blue sky’s to fade and turn into a beautiful mixture of red and orange. With all the playing, swimming, and even a little roughhousing the boys have officially tired themselves out. Both Lo’ak and Rotxo's eyes are starting to grow heavy, meaning it’s time for them to take a nap. While Lo’ak and Rotxo are saying their goodbyes, you and Padma make plans to hang out later in the week, she tells you that she knows a great place on the island to have a picnic and you definitely can’t wait to go since you haven’t fully explored the island yet.

Once you and Padma wrap up your conversation, you grab Lo’ak by the hand and start walking along the spongy pathways around the village and make your way to your mauri. “Lo’ak, how was your time with Rotxo? Did you have fun?”

“I had so much fun, Rotxo is the coolest! He showed me how to do all these tricks on his Ilu and while we were in the water he caught a fish with his bare hands!” Lo’ak tells you about everything he and Rotxo did his voice is laced with excitement while he tells you each and every detail, making you smile at the fact he enjoyed his time with his friend and that he’s adjusting well to living with the Metkayina, especially socially. “I’m glad you had fun, yawntutsyìp.”

You and Lo’ak continue talking as you walk home which makes the walk seem shorter than it usually is. Since Lo’ak has a newfound burst of energy he believes he doesn’t need a nap but you tell him otherwise. “Lo’ak, if you don’t take a nap you’ll be tired later at dinner and-” When you turn the corner and are a few steps away from the entryway of your home you can see Tonowari standing in front of your mauri, causing your words to become lodged in your throat at the sight of him.

You were planning on talking to him, at the earliest tomorrow so you could have a night to figure out what to say and gather your thoughts but since he showed up without you having any prior knowledge you have no idea what you’re gonna say to him so now you have to rack your brain on what to say. Lo’ak is still standing beside you and the conversation you need to have with Tonowari definitely isn’t for children’s ears so you send him inside. “Lo, go inside and clean up so you can take your nap.”

“But Mama, I don’t wanna take a-”

“Now, Lo’ak.” When your son hears the sternness in your voice and the seriousness written on your face he makes a beeline for the mauri and does as you told him to. Once he makes it inside and you see the flap close behind him, you turn your attention to Tonowari and try to mentally prepare for the pending conversation. The Olo’eyktan walks closer to you before you can do it yourself, making your words begin to scramble in your brain and your mouth to start moving at a mile a minute before you can stop yourself. “Again, I just want to say I’m so sorry for kissing you out of the blue like I did. I shouldn’t have just assumed you have feelings for me, it was impulsive and-”

Before you can finish your rant, telling him how sorry you are for making things awkward between you both, Tonowari closes the gap between the two of you while his eyes lock intensively with yours, making your heart race. Suddenly, he leans in and presses his lips firmly against yours, causing your eyes to slightly widen in shock and your body to freeze while your mind is racing as you attempt to process what’s happening. The warmth that’s radiating from him overwhelms your senses, making you feel like you're on a sugar high. After a few seconds the initial shock fades you begin to relax and kiss him back, allowing your feelings to take over.

You lean into Tonowari, feeling his strength as he pulls you closer to him, one hand cradling your cheek while the other finds its way wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place. His large hands on different parts of your body makes you want to melt in this moment. His lips are soft and insistent, moving so tenderly across yours that it takes your breath away. As the kiss deepens you can almost taste the sea salt on his lips, it’s intoxicating yet captivating, making the world feel like it’s fading and turning into a blur.

After what feels like hours but in reality is minutes, Tonowari pulls back and both of you are left breathless, making a smile appear on both of your lips, his because he feels a wave of joy and yours because you're still a little surprised that he kissed you and how amazing a kiss it was. It’s been many years since you’ve had an intimate kiss like this before, feeling another warm body against yours was a feeling you definitely missed and are so glad to have that again with someone you genuinely like.

“y/n,” The Metkayina begins, his voice low and filled with sincerity, still lingering in the warmth of the moment you both shared, hoping he can gather the right words. “You don’t need to apologize, earlier I wanted to kiss you but I was taken aback, at that moment I didn't know what to do.” When you kissed Tonowari earlier he was in shock, he didn’t know how to react so he just froze up. Since Ronal died he hasn’t had feelings for anyone so when he met you everything felt so new and different to him, he didn’t expect to feel a connection with anyone again, especially with someone so different from him but he loved the way you made him feel.

“I didn’t mean to catch you off guard, I was just caught up in the moment.” You reply softly, beginning to feel a hint of shyness creep into your voice due to the way Tonowari’s eyes feel like they are peering directly into your soul.

“I’m glad you did, if you hadn’t I wouldn’t have known you felt the way I feel for you and we wouldn’t be here now.” He reassures you that everything that has happened was meant to be, the two of you were meant to share your first real kiss a few feet away from the ocean waves that are crashing against the sand, it was already written in the stars that the two of you would share such a special moment on the part of the island that’s secluded, meaning you don’t have to worry about prying eyes of the village, it would just be you and him, exploring your connection without fear.

“So, what does this mean for us?” With Eywa giving you a second chance at finding love you don’t want to beat around the bush or once he goes home begin thinking about what the next step is so you decide to be blunt and ask him upfront so you can have a clear understanding. “Where do we go from here?”

“I want to explore what we have and where this connection can lead but I want to take things slow. It’s been years since I was in a relationship and I don’t want to rush into anything, I want everything to happen the way Eywa intends.” For years Tonowari was hesitant on opening his heart again, afraid that he would grow to love a person just to lose someone else he’s grown to care for. Now that you’ve broken the walls he set around his heart he’s ready to find that special connection with someone and he’s willing to take the risk of being hurt because to him you’re worth it.

“I understand how you feel completely, I think it would be best to take our time and just further build our connection.” You’re glad you and Tonowari are on the same page with how you should go about your relationship because you want to take things slow with him, wanting to make sure you can fully trust him before letting him into your life completely.

“I like the sound of that.” Tonowari replies with a soft smile before he reaches for your hand and intertwines your hand with his. The warmth of his grip sends a comforting shiver through your body, grounding you in the moment. The gentle pressure of his hand against yours feels like an unspoken promise, a commitment to explore the connection blossoming between you.

Since Tonowari has a little free time and Lo’ak was inside sleeping you decide to take him down by the shore with you. With your hands already connected it’s easy to guide Tonowari a few feet away from your home and closer to the water before you find the perfect place to settle. Both of you sit down in the warm sand and you lean against Tonowari, resting your head on his shoulder while he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, making you relax under his touch.

It feels nice to have a man by your side, a true man, not someone who disrespects and treats you like a burden. When you left the forest you didn’t know if you would find love again, you didn’t even know if you wanted to try and find someone again after what you endured but it seems like Eywa had her own plans in motion, allowing you and Tonowari to meet was definitely her way of telling you that it’s okay to open your heart again.

As you sit nestled against him, you realize how different this feels. Tonowari’s presence is calming and genuine, a total contrast to the chaos of your past. He listens intently when you speak, his gaze always filled with warmth and understanding. The way he holds you makes you feel valued, cherished even, which is a new feeling for you, but one that you love.

You take a moment to appreciate the beauty around you—the colors of the sunset painting the sky, the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore, and the feel of sand beneath you. In this peaceful setting, you begin to let go of your reservations. The fear that once held you captive starts to dissolve and replaces itself with hope that maybe you can build something real with him. With every soft touch and shared glance, you sense the possibility of a future where love isn’t synonymous with pain.

As the minutes pass, the conversation flows effortlessly between you, filled with laughter and shared stories. Tonowari speaks of his childhood, his eyes lighting up as he recalls the joyous moments which allow you to see a different side of him while you share stories from your life in the forest, a few that are a little more personal to you than the ones you told him earlier today and will help him get to know you better than he did before. Each story that’s told deepens your bond, revealing layers of who you both are and allowing you to grow closer. Occasionally, Tonowari leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead or cheek, gestures that send shivers through your entire being. You can’t help but smile, feeling a sense of safety and belonging you thought you’d lost forever. The world around you fades, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in your own cloud of shared comfort and emerging trust.

As the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow around you, you lean closer into Tonowari’s embrace, feeling a sense of peace settle in your heart. In this moment, surrounded by nature’s beauty and the man who makes your heart flutter, you realize that the walls you once built to protect yourself are beginning to crumble.

With Tonowari, you sense a future filled with possibility—a future where love is not only attainable but also vibrant and real. With laughter still echoing between you and the gentle waves serenading your moment, you realize that you didn't just find a refuge from your past, but the promise of a beautiful journey ahead—one that you are eager to explore together.

Previous — Chapter Two・Next — Chapter Four

If you would like to be tagged in this series click here and fill out the taglist form!!

Fanbase — @moonchildxoxx @ikeyniofthetayrangi @unholycheesesnack @luchicm04 @anemonelovesfiction @thebiggestwhorearound @taronyuhunter @hot15936 @v4mp1rr3 @avatarobsessedgirly @ikeyniofthetayrangi @rivatar @avatarsslut @kodzuvk @32saucy-minx @xxannyxx @certainkittenpeach @mimisweetz @eme1hyst @neteyamyawne @scrumptiouslampwobblercop @lexasaurs634 @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @breadnchocolate-blog @reading-doll @trashf0x @avatarloverfrfr @alyssa23145678910 @eywas-heir @neptunesbbby @n7cje @hinekoto @lovedheartsss @introvertednoah @sweetdayme4427 @tenshiasuhara @livvie1512-blog @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @daenerysluvrr @marsymars-world @sassyqueen15 @yawnetu @mudimar @baybaybear1 @yuliya-13 @nia-channel-taylor @lakeli @pitypinkabyss @otakusef @svnnynostalgia

[yoonia]

A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting/morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, minor body insecurities (implied), some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 25,363 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: January 31st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | I know that this is so late, but December has always been a rough month for me and this time it continued until January. I hope you can still enjoy this story regardless. Happy belated holidays and happy new year, my loves!

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

You already had everything perfectly planned out when you first thought of this trip some long months ago. 

Everything. 

From your personal bucket list full of wonderful things that you wanted to experience during your time away and the places that you wanted to see, down to the smallest details that you could possibly think of to be able to enjoy every single moment of your secret getaway.

Just like the red dress that you had chosen to wear tonight. The dress you had meticulously picked and bought to wear on the trip as you went to celebrate your newfound freedom. 

In your well-thought-out plan, you were supposed to have landed on the tropical island you were headed to by sundown. The warm tropical breeze should have been embracing you at the start of your trip instead of the cold, chilly wind flowing right outside these walls. 

By this evening, you should have already settled in nicely in the comfort of your hotel room right by the beachside. The calming sound of the rushing waves outside your window was the sound that you should have been listening to while resting from your long flight. 

You had pictured yourself embracing your freedom in a foreign land. To feel the soft sand slipping between your toes as you were playing chase with the rushing waves, and to find calmness that you could only get far away from the treacherous city where you came from. 

The trip was meant to help you mend your soul. Perfectly planned out as an escape from reality and leave all of your past hurt behind before starting a new chapter of your life. 

And yet, no matter how thoroughly you had it all planned out, somehow life simply found a way to mess it all up. Just like how it had always been. So perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when it happened to you again, just when you thought that you had everything under control. 

You should have seen the signs long before everything started crumbling down.

The sky that kept growing darker ever since you left the city. The constant turbulences happening during your first flight that made the trip feel intense. The unsettling feeling you met the moment you landed in this place for your transit. The constant announcements echoing through the airport about flights that were getting delayed and cancelled while you were getting no news about your transit flight’s departure. 

You should have been prepared to face reality, keeping in mind that life hadn’t been so nice to you lately to let you slip away that easily. Yet your stubbornness prevailed. And after your most recent predicament, you needed this trip to happen. You needed to be right. 

After all, you have made it all the way here. It would have been impossible for you to return home, wouldn’t it?

So you remained in denial and were so stubbornly holding onto hope that you would soon be taken away from this place towards your dream destination. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart. 

But after long hours of waiting, you were finally forced to accept your fate, letting go of any hope you had left to escape this place when they officially cancelled the rest of today’s flights due to unresolved weather issues. Including yours.

“I’m sorry, but we really can’t promise you anything at this moment. There will be no flights until the storm passes and our pilots are cleared to fly again. Until then, we have nothing to tell you.” 

The staff’s swift response to your inquiries about getting on the first flight available to take you to your destination only left you with a dead end. Even flying back home was no longer an option, only because that would only mean that you were admitting defeat. 

And that was how you ended up here tonight, stranded right between the daunting city that you called home and the paradise that you wished to be in until an unforeseeable future. Your dream of enjoying the night in the comfort of the beachside hotel room overlooking the wide, clear ocean, had been replaced with the reality where you had to spend overnight at the airport’s transit hotel that the airline staff helped book for you. 

You released a sigh as you leaned back against the elevator wall. Recounting the events again only brought back all the terrible mood you were having. And it didn’t help that the last message that your roommate sent you only reminded you of your setback. 

From Skye: Just checking on you on your secret getaway. I hope you’re having a blast right now. I wish you’d tell me where you’re heading so I can have a good reason to be jealous. Be safe!

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text? 

Before you could find an answer, the elevator doors opened as it reached the lobby downstairs. You put away your phone as you stepped out, and immediately got lost in your thoughts. Your mind once again getting too loud as it keeps you company. 

At first, you had no intention of hiding this trip from her. Yet all the circumstances leading to this weekend had made it hard for you to share anything to anyone.

You were planning to wait until you were finally there so you could surprise her with pictures from the beautiful beach or your comfortable hotel room. Showing her the pretty nighttime scene from the tropical island would have been a nice way to flaunt your secret getaway rather than boasting it when your fate had been filled with uncertainty. 

But instead of having an evening walk down the beach, you were trudging across the lobby inside an airport hotel, accompanied by the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors instead of having sand soiling your feet. 

And the view outside the window that you got to see earlier had been nowhere close to the pretty beach with its white sand and rolling waves. Instead, you had a clear view of the dark night sky, painted with the raging storm and its blaring thunders so strong they almost caused the entire bedroom to shake. Neither showed any sign of calming down any time soon, leaving you with no other choice but to do what you could to enjoy your temporary stay.

And you were going to start doing so by having a quick drink to help you unwind for the night. 

The red dress that you were wearing might seem a bit excessive for a nightcap, but for a short while, it helped you forget where you were. It felt almost as if you were walking in a dream as you strolled down the lower lobby in search of the hotel bar. 

Entering the hotel bar, however, became another wake-up call. 

The bar was quite large for a transit hotel, accommodating the patrons filling the place tonight. You had hoped that you could have a dance or two with a friendly stranger before retreating to your hotel room to rest, yet the closed-off lounge area had more space filled with box seats than the open dance floor. The seating area was the only place in the bar which was dimly lit, allowing the guests some privacy while they settled in with their drinks. 

The small chandeliers glittering from the ceiling were far from the hanging lights that you pictured hanging in a beachside bar. Just like the one place you had seen pictures of while planning for your trip. The lights you were seeing here made the entire space beneath seem luxurious, spreading a soft golden glow over the wary faces trying to enjoy the night. 

The pulsing bass that came out of the speakers was enough to drown the sound of the violent storm happening on the other side of these walls, further helping to create an illusion that you were in another place. That you were somewhere else instead of being stranded inside an airport hotel, together with all the strangers who seemed to be facing the same fate as you did. 

You made your way towards the main bar, suddenly feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Even without looking, you could feel people’s eyes following your movements. Yet you paid no heed to them. You were only here to quiet down the raging storm happening inside your head, after all. 

A strong scent of old wood took over the bar area. Mixed in with the excessive scent of air fresheners and cleaners, it was enough to remind you that you were miles and miles away from the beautiful island where you had been so desperate to be. 

Smoothing your palms down your red dress, you took one empty seat at the bar. You caught the bartender’s eyes as he walked past, and within moments, a glass of strawberry daiquiri ended up in your hand. 

This feels nice, you wondered to yourself as you sat back and tried to relax.

One sip of the sweet alcoholic drink was all that it took to refresh your mind. As the warmth from your drink ran smoothly through your body, any doubt and wariness you felt began to fade. 

The next sip of the drink managed to ease your thoughts down a bit more. It helped push away the reminders of your troubles to the back of your mind. Finding calmness, you took another quick look at your surroundings.

The seating lounge seemed to be filled with guests more than the main bar was. Stranded travellers like yourself. At first glance, the nicely dressed men in suits made it seem like you were in a bar downtown. As if they were nothing more than a group of businessmen seeking leisure on a Friday night with drinks. 

It only took you looking a few seats away from them for the illusion to shatter. Your eyes fell on a group of men and women wearing their summer clothing who were making a toast, acting as if they were at the peak of their vacation. 

Looking at the scene made you realise that you weren’t the only one feeling miserable tonight. You wondered just how badly these people here needed to forget. How many of them here might be similar to you, stranded in an unexpected situation while trying to escape reality? 

You raised your glass to hide your bitter smile. The smooth liquid continued to flow through your body and you slowly began to find some peace of mind. Before you knew it, you had finished your drink, though you weren’t exactly ready to return to your cold bedroom. 

“Can I order you another glass of drink?” 

A deep voice invaded your senses after a long period of silence, and it was coming from your side. You had been far too deep in your reverie that you didn’t even realise that someone had taken the empty seat right beside you at the bar. 

Curious to see this friendly stranger, you slowly turned around to look at him. And what you saw in him nearly took your breath away. 

A tall, lean man was sitting there. His slick hair had a few curls at the end of each strands, and he had combed them back, leaving nothing more than a few stands framing his handsome face that looked almost as if it had been sculpted by the fine hands of masters in art. His sharp nose and jawline drew your attention, while his deep and soulful eyes that appeared like pools of rich mahogany drew you in, as if he was hiding a story behind his intense gaze. But it was his plump lips that formed into a smile which caught your eyes the most.

At your silence that stretched out while you were busy being captivated by him, he raised his eyebrows. It made you realise that he was waiting for your answer. An answer to a question that you had so obviously missed. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He tilted his chin to point at your now empty glass. “You look like you could use another glass, and I’d love to get one for you,” he said with an amused tone of voice. 

Once again, his deep, velvety voice hit you deeply. It resonated through your body, and a shudder ran down your spine. You refused to believe that he was able to cause this effect on you solely through his voice or his pretty smile. 

But how else would you explain the reaction that was drawn from your body? 

I don’t think I’m that drunk already, you wondered.

It was probably the way he spoke to you which affected you so much. The way he was asking a question with pure confidence. As if he already knew your answer, and that it would be impossible for you to refuse his offer. 

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it. 

What remained from your sullen mood immediately shifted in his presence. And while you have no intention of turning him down, you decided that you were not going to make things easy for him. 

“An interesting offer that seems like such a waste for me to refuse,” you sweetly said to him, smiling as your eyes fell on his empty hands. “But how would a woman feel at ease to accept such an offer from a man who isn’t even holding a glass in his hand?” 

He squinted his eyes at you, which only made his gaze feel more intense. “Are you afraid that I might be planning to get you drunk?” 

You softly laughed. “Not sure if I should be so worried about that. Getting drunk tonight has always been my initial plan all along,” you coyly said, hiding the fact that it was never your intention to get wild tonight. But his appearance intrigued you enough to change your mind about ending the night so soon.  

The mysterious man remained oblivious to this as he laughed with you. His wide, almost boxy grin mesmerised you in an instant and you were once again left speechless. 

He waved his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. It was nothing more but a simple gesture, yet you were somewhat drawn to it. To him.  

While he greeted the bartender, you took the chance to have a better look at this man. You noticed that he was a bit different compared to the other men that you saw around you earlier. 

Dressed in a black jacket over his plain white shirt, he didn’t seem as sophisticated as the stranded businessmen in their flashy suits sitting together at the bar’s lounge. Yet he had a different level of confidence which was enough to make your cheeks feel warm. 

In your eyes, he was alluring, almost as intensely as the dark storm happening outside. And you couldn’t resist being pulled towards him. 

“Another glass of the same drink for the lady and a glass of grasshopper for me,” he smoothly spoke as he ordered the drinks for you.

The bartender nodded and went to work, while you slid closer to him. His fresh-scented cologne immediately hit you, and your confidence nearly wavered that you almost slid back. But then he caught you with his gaze as he turned back to you, giving you the kind of attention which boosted every bit of ego you had. 

“So you also prefer something light and sweet. How intriguing,” you teased him, bringing back his alluring grin. 

“Why do you think I came here to join you? It was obviously for the fruity drinks and to have someone to drink it together with,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Before you got to say something in return, the bartender came back with his order. The man took a sip of his drink first before you took yours. Once again, the sweetness from your drink swirled through your body, chipping away at the tension that had been weighing you down ever since the day’s saga began. 

“To be honest, I also thought that you were looking a bit rough.” His remark brought your attention back to him. The tease was gone from his voice. All that was left was a gentle concern that seemed genuine. “And you looked like you needed a friend. That’s why I invited myself to join you.” 

It makes you feel uneasy to think that you were being so transparent. So much so that a complete stranger like himself was able to see right through you. 

“You think so? Wait until you hear how rough I’m feeling inside as well,” you bitterly said to him, drawing a soft smile to his face. 

“That makes the two of us then,” he said to you gently with his eyes on his glass of drink. There was a forlorn look in his eyes as he slowly twirled the glass, causing the liquid to swish around before he took another sip from it. 

“Care to share?” you questioned him before you could stop yourself, only to pull yourself back. “Sorry, that sounds creepy. We just met and here I am, prying into someone else’s business,” you nervously laughed.  

His gaze softened when he looked at you. Furthermore, he also seemed intrigued. 

“No, not at all.” His voice was calm, and it somehow helped to calm your nerves. “I was just about to lend an ear in case you needed someone to vent to. I never expected that you would be a step ahead of me before I could make the offer.” 

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside. 

“Mine’s a long story,” you bitterly said to him as you raised your glass, almost giving in to the urge to take a hefty drink and finish it off when everything started coming back to you again.

The reason behind this trip, why you were stranded here on your own, while being far, far away from home, and all the drama that had gotten in the way when you had been so desperate to get away from everything. 

Unsurprisingly, the man merely shrugged. “I’ve got time to spare. My flight won’t leave until tomorrow. And that is if they’re allowed to fly out of here at all.” 

You smiled at him. “Same here. I guess we’re both stranded here all night, huh?” 

He leaned in just then, invading your personal space and filling it with his presence. And you didn’t even mind it as you leaned into him, meeting him halfway to welcome him into your little safety bubble. 

“And I was worried that I might get stuck feeling lonely while being stranded in this place,” he gently murmured, drawing a smile to your face.  

“I doubt that you would end up alone tonight,” you teased him, simply because there was no possible way that someone as attractive as he was would be returning to his hotel bedroom alone. 

His smile grew, yet the deep, dark look in his eyes shifted into something else. Something naughty and sinful. It made you feel a new sensation brewing inside even without him ever having to touch you. 

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with his deep voice that came grazing at your skin. 

Normally, you wouldn’t know what to say in return. It had been so long since you played this kind of game with someone. With anyone. But his presence and his words were drawing something out of you. A part of you that you never thought existed. And you surprised yourself when you played along, taunting danger head-on as you challenged this handsome stranger before you— 

“Would you like it to be?” 

Something flashed in his eyes. It was dark and intense, and it was sucking you in. It brought a myriad of sensations that unexpectedly went straight down to your core. 

In the deep silence that fell right after, the world around you faded. Even before you got to know his name, before you had the chance to share your story, you already knew the answer that he was about to give you as a response to your question. 

And you also knew right then, that the sparks that came rising around you were something that you would never be able to easily forget, even if every bit of memory you had about him would fade over time. 

Present…

Why do I keep thinking about that night all over again?

You can only wonder, as you keep being reminded of that eventful night. 

Weeks, nearly a month have gone by ever since, yet the memories seem to have been engraved deeply in your thoughts. And today, even though you haven’t really been thinking about it since, you suddenly find yourself having no trouble recounting everything that happened then. 

Well, almost everything. 

Some parts may seem blurry now. All due to the passing of time and the fact that you were partly inebriated at the time. But you can still recall some parts of the night that had clearly left a strong impression on you—the first encounter and the conversation you shared before alcohol took over, the instant attraction that you felt, but most of all, his entire presence. 

And they all have been coming into your thoughts while you are sitting here in the corner of your bathroom. Alone. With your arms wrapped around your folded knees and your eyes closed. As if you are waiting for a miracle to happen. 

You scoff at the thought. 

Right. Miracles. 

Years have long passed since you stopped believing that miracles do exist. Life always has its way of blindsiding you with its twists and turns that miracles no longer seem to matter anymore. 

Not for you, at least. 

Your past experiences have only caused you to look at it with sceptical eyes, sometimes even with bitterness, knowing that life has never been on your side. 

But here you are now, wishing, praying, holding onto hope that there would be a miracle to stop you from getting into a messy situation. One that you know you wouldn’t be able to handle on your own. 

After all, the perfect season of miracles is right around the corner. So it wouldn’t be so wrong for you to have some faith in them again now, would it? 

Your phone starts blaring with the sound of the alarm, snapping you out of it. Slowly, you rise on your wobbly feet. It feels as if your entire body has grown numb even before you get to face reality as it comes glaring back at you. 

Clutching onto the edges of your bathroom counter, you try to hold yourself together, and immediately failing, as you look at the two thin white strips lying on the cold counter and feel your entire world tilting off of its axis. 

All because of the two red lines that are clearly visible on each strip.

“Oh, fuck,” you softly groan. Deep down, you had already predicted this. Yet you kept denying it, hoping that you would be wrong.

“No, no, no—” you continue murmuring to yourself while wishing that you could somehow turn back time and change everything before things started going the wrong way. 

Back to this morning, when your roommate caught you—once again—throwing up last night’s dinner before handing you the unopened pregnancy test packs that she has been keeping safe in her room with the premise, “Just in case.” 

Or maybe you could return to last night when she pointed out your odd cravings—like dipping apples into peanut butter and eating leftover mac and cheese straight from the fridge without warming it in the microwave first—and joked about how you have been acting like a pregnant woman with your mood swings. 

Better yet, you wish you could go back to that night, back to that many weeks ago, when you allowed yourself to fall for a stranger’s charm which led you to spend the night with him. 

You close your eyes, once again murmuring to yourself, “This has got to be a dream.” 

But the moment you open your eyes again, nothing has changed. You are still standing there with your hands holding tightly onto the edges of the bathroom counter. And the two pregnancy test kits that you used are still lying on top of the counter for your eyes to see. 

A rapid sound of knocking on the bathroom door sends you jumping back. 

“Hey, ______? Is everything okay?” you hear your roommate, Skye, calling out for you. Her voice seems calm, yet when you recall hearing the sound of her footsteps moving back and forth outside of the door while you were taking the test, you know that she has been waiting just as anxiously as you were. “So—? What does it say?” 

Still in shock, and quite stuck in denial, you open your mouth only to have no words coming out of you. Your brain feels a bit hazy as you walk up to the door and open it for her. 

Skye takes one look at your face and her gaze softens. “What did it—” She shakes her head. “Oh, never mind, I’m dying to know. Let me see it,” she says as she brushes past you before you can say anything. 

Hoping that there is a chance that reality can change within the next few seconds, you refuse to turn around and once again close your eyes while she suddenly grows quiet.

Maybe you were just imagining things. Maybe you weren’t even looking at the test properly. Maybe—

“So, uhm—” you can hear Skye’s voice trembling a little as she hesitantly asks you, “Two lines mean it’s positive, is that right?” 

And just like that, every bit of hope you have in you flies out the window. “I wish I could say that it’s the other way around,” you softly murmur, feeling defeated. 

And the feeling grows stronger when you hear her cursing under her breath,

“Well, fuck.”

“What are you doing?” you ask Skye as you gingerly take a seat on the sofa. 

Once you both stepped away from the bathroom, she guided you to the living room while she sauntered away to the kitchen without a word. You can hear the noises she makes as she is busy rummaging through the counters. Yet you are too far away to see what she is up to. 

“Hang on a minute. Stay there,” she calls out without even looking. 

“Okay.” 

It’s not like you have any energy to go anywhere, after all. Your head is still spinning and you can barely feel your legs. It feels as if you are stuck in a bad dream and you just can’t get out of it. 

It doesn’t take long before Skye returns to your side, carrying with her two clean tall glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was the same bottle that you opened when you celebrated your promotion a couple of weeks ago after coming back from the trip. 

Holy shit, you inwardly cry out. Your heartbeat rises as your hands find their way to your stomach. 

“Okay, let’s try to calm down,” Skye says to you as she places both glasses on the table before you, although it seems to you more as if she is talking to herself instead of reassuring you while you are panicking inside.

A couple of weeks ago? Wouldn’t I have been already pregnant then? 

These thoughts keep running through your head as you watch your roommate pouring wine into both glasses, just like the night she did the same when you first opened that same bottle. 

Dear God, how much did I drink that night? You ask yourself with a grimace as you try to remember. 

Wait, no. I didn’t drink anything, you remind yourself. Relief washes over you look back at the celebration night where you barely took a sip before Skye took the glass away from your hands. 

Because you were already feeling sick that day. 

You had been feeling nauseous for days, throwing up once in a while and mostly on the days when you were lacking sleep because of the workload you had to handle for the upcoming promotion. All you ever did was wet your lips with the wine after the celebratory toast. That was the only contact you made with the drink before Skye replaced it with a tall glass of alcohol-free smoothie that she made especially for your ‘upset stomach’.

Of course, how did I not see the signs? You wonder again as you remember the sickly feeling you had after vomiting each morning and feeling powerless for the rest of the day. It even got so bad that you had to skip work for a couple of days at the beginning of your ‘sickness’. 

If only you knew then. 

Your eyes are still on the wine glasses as Skye places them side by side and puts away the bottle. 

“Uh—I believe we both just saw the two lines appearing on the test packs.” 

She lets out a light scoff and waves her hand at you. “They're both for me. I’m going to need them while I process this,” she says, shaking her head as she sits down to join you on the sofa. “You get to keep that smoothie.” 

You follow her gaze and look down at the glass of smoothie that you left on the table during the whole fiasco with the pregnancy test. While you pick up your drink, Skye takes a hefty drink from one of the glasses of wine and sits back. 

“So—you’re pregnant,” she murmurs to herself. Her gaze flickers to your face for a brief moment and nods to herself before taking another drink. 

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking? 

She releases a sigh. Neither of you says anything for a moment. But you can tell when she grows more anxious by the minute. You don’t understand why, until she carefully asks you, “Are you going to tell Han?” 

Confused, you look at her with your brows furrowed and ask, “Why would I tell Han that I’m pregnant?” 

Skye looks genuinely confused, almost as much as you are, and you only realise the reason why when she asks you, “Isn’t Hansol the father? You guys have been dating for a long time and I can’t remember ever seeing you with anyone else while you’re on a break.” 

You wince, realising too late that you have yet to tell her the truth.

“Actually—we’re not on a break,” you slowly admit with a low voice. Months have gone by, and even though it no longer hurts whenever you start thinking about your failed relationship or to mention your ex’s name, you cannot help but still feel bitter about how it ended and you hate talking about it. 

That is the reason why you haven’t said anything about it to anyone. Maybe you were just too embarrassed. After all, it isn’t so easy to admit that you may have been the reason why the four-year relationship fell into pieces. 

“I lied,” you say with a burst of deep sigh, “It was over, done, finished—”

“So you already broke up?” she cuts you off with a calm voice. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head. “Yeah,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like your throat is tightening up. Not because you feel the sudden urge to cry. But only because this is all becoming too much to take at once.  

“And the baby?” she carefully asks you. “It wasn’t Han—” 

“The baby isn’t his,” you quickly answer before she even gets to question about it. 

It’s hard enough to hear his name being mentioned after a while. It feels harder to think that you might be carrying his baby. 

But the moment those words come out of your lips, reality finally sinks in. Grabbing the glass of your drink, you take a hefty drink out of it. You wish there was some alcohol in this thing. Maybe it would have helped you think more clearly. 

That’s right. It couldn’t have been his.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to do the math. “We’ve been broken up for months, so if the baby is his, I’m sure I would be showing already by this time around,” you say this while gently rubbing your palm over your stomach. 

Now that your suspicions have been confirmed, the gesture feels almost natural to you that your hand simply moves before you realise it, though it helps confirm that nothing much has changed with your body.

It feels odd to think that there is a life existing inside you, yet you cannot really see it with just one look. This convinces you further that the baby couldn’t have been conceived while you were still dating your ex. Looking back to it now, once you remember when exactly the sickness and craving started, it would only make sense that the baby was conceived on that specific night. 

“So—if Hansol isn’t the Dad, then who was it?” 

Biting your lip, you turn to look at Skye. Of course, if there is anyone in this world that you can talk to about this, it would only be her. Just like how she would come to you first whenever she is in a bind, whether it’s about her relationships, about work, or even the smallest things like having a bad day where you end up sharing a tub of ice cream to feel better. 

After all, she isn’t just a roommate, but also someone you have known the longest compared to the other friends you’ve made since moving into this city. You have known each other since college, since back in freshman year when both of you were nothing more but young kids from small towns being thrust into the big city. 

Being put together in the same dorm room led you to become fast friends. After years of enduring the same hardship in college, the two of you remained so close that you even moved to this city together and continued to live in the same place to keep each other company. 

You have gone through everything with her, and you have always been honest with each other. It should have been easy to tell her everything. If only you could find the right words to begin sharing your story. 

“I have no idea where to start.” 

“Well,” Skye patiently says while twirling the glass of wine she’s holding. You squint your eyes at her when you find it almost empty. So unfair. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” 

“Right. From the beginning,” you say this with a nod. “Do you remember when I went away last month?” 

She nods. “Your secret getaway. Still jealous of that, by the way.” 

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, well—there’s a reason why I insisted on going alone on that trip. I actually planned it as a surprise vacation for me and Hansol. The original idea was for us to have a romantic getaway for our fourth anniversary.” 

Skye raises her eyebrows. “Well, damn,” she mutters. “Let me guess. You broke up before it happened?” 

You grimace as you recall what happened. “Close enough,” you answer with a bitter smile. “It was because of the trip that we got a huge fight in the first place.” 

Skye tilts her head. “I’m not following.” 

Sighing, you drink your smoothie to cool down and swallow the bitter feeling you are suddenly getting. Recounting the break-up isn’t so much fun to do. Not even after this long. 

“I planned the entire thing on my own. Booked the flight and the hotel, and rearranged our schedules to fit each other so we could go on that exact date. But I never shared anything with him, except to confirm that it was a place that he also dreamt of going so we could both enjoy it together.” You let out a defeated sigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He used to love those in the past, so I figured it could be fun to celebrate our anniversary this way and get away from all the stress both of us had been getting.” 

You stop talking for a moment to remember those days. Both you and Hansol had been so busy back then that you could barely spend time with each other. 

It was the exact routine every day. Having long hours in the office and since you weren’t living together, you could only keep in contact with each other through texts and calls. By the time the two of you were able to see each other, all the stress had been piling up that you were almost always arguing and fighting instead of making up for all the time you missed while being apart. 

“We were talking about moving in together but all of a sudden, we stopped discussing it and I could feel us growing further apart. I thought going away from all the stress for a while would help us get along and make up for all the fighting. Maybe we could have had a chance to talk things out and figure out what to fix.” 

You stop with a soft sigh. “We were getting bored. With work, with life, and maybe we did get bored with each other but neither of us could open up about it, much less admit it. Not even to ourselves.” 

Skye lets out a groan. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she mutters before finishing her drink. The first glass. With the second one waiting on the table.

You give her a scoff, but smile at her comment before continuing, “He found out about the trip by chance. I was still logged in on his laptop after I borrowed it to check on my work email while I was staying over on the weekend. He accidentally opened the booking details when he was checking his email, thinking it was his account. He suspected me of planning to go with someone else, but even after I told him that the trip was for both of us, he wasn’t having it.” 

Skye leans forward when she hears this. “Wait, he’s pissed about a secret vacation?” she asks, looking unhappy and confused at the same time. You can’t really blame her. Because that is exactly how you feel about your ex’s reaction. “Why would he be? If it had been me, I would’ve been ecstatic about going.” 

“I wish I knew,” you groan, feeling just as frustrated as you had been then. “But he wasn’t just refusing to go. He started blaming me. Saying something about me holding him back or something. He said he had no time for a trip when he needed to be there and work for his promotion.” 

Thinking back to that day, remembering about the fight and the things you said to each other, you are reminded of the moment the fight left your body. Because you knew then that there was nothing left to fight over. 

“He never even brought up the fact that it was the date of our anniversary. I don’t think he even knew or remembered it,” you say with a bitter chuckle. “He broke it off, saying that he wanted to focus on his career and I would be keeping him behind. And I agreed because I knew that we’d wound up hurting each other if we’d stayed.” 

“I can understand that,” Skye gently says. The two of you share a sad smile when your eyes meet. “And you still went on that trip,” she guesses, sounding proud. She lifts her glass to you and says, “Good girl.” 

You merely shrug. “When I went to cancel the tickets for the trip, I thought it would be such a waste to throw everything away. So I decided that going solo would be a good idea and kept mine. Besides, I needed a moment to heal myself and get away from the city for a short while.” 

She laughs, agreeing with you. Then, just as she is about to say something, she suddenly stops. A knowing look comes across her gaze and she slowly gasps. “Don’t tell me—” she says, “You met someone while you were there.” 

You nod your head slowly and press your lips together. “Once again, you’re close. But that’s not exactly what happened.” Blowing out a deep breath, you slowly ask her, “Remember when I told you that I got held up for a day in transit?” 

“Yeah, I was so jealous of you that I still remember everything you told me about that trip,” she lets out a dreamy sigh, then her gaze snaps back at you. “But, it seems to me that you haven’t told me everything about the trip.” 

“No, I didn’t.” You grimace. “Anyway, that’s when I met him—” 

The memories return to you again as you share with your roommate about your encounter with the beautiful stranger. You remember vividly the way he spoke, the deep and gentle voice that he spoke to you with, and his captivating smile that made you swoon. Everything about him that made it hard for you to leave and say goodbye to him. 

You recount the way you enjoyed each other’s company that even after your terrible mood gradually became much better, and after you finished yet another drink, you simply couldn’t walk away and end the night with him so soon. You stayed longer, losing count of the time you spent with him and the drinks you had. 

“And then, one thing led to another, it just happened.” 

Skye’s eyes have grown so wide at this point, and her jaw has dropped in her surprise that she looks almost comical. “You hooked up with a stranger during your transit?” she asks you. The moment you nod your head, she switches her empty glass with the other. “I would drink to that.” 

You laugh just as she takes a hefty drink as if celebrating on your behalf. “Why do you sound so proud of me?” 

“Well,” she slowly starts, “We’ve known each other for so long. You have always been so put together, always followed the rules, and you are always so good at what you do. From school, to work, even the little things you have been doing on the side. But not when it comes to your sex life.” 

You know that she is right about everything. But it doesn’t stop you from picking up a cushion and hitting her with it. 

“Hey, you know I’m right,” she says while laughing and protecting the precious glass of wine. “Come on, you’ve never had any casual relationships or random hookups, and every chance I could have gotten to hook you up with my guy friends was gone when Hansol came into the picture.” 

Pouting, you pull the cushion back and hold it tightly in your arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit with a sigh. “How do you get to know me so well?” 

“That’s because I love you enough to pay attention,” she smugly says while waving her glass around, sloshing the wine everywhere. “Why do you think I’ve been so protective of you over the years?” 

You roll your eyes and hit her with the cushion one last time, making her laugh, even though she is right. For as long as you have been friends with her, she has always been like an older sister to you. Not only for coming hard like a shield against the guys you ever introduced her to but also for the trivial things that not many people would pay much attention to. 

Like reminding you to eat properly when you are stressed out or too busy with work and school. 

You feel bad for relying on her so much over the years. But you also feel grateful about it. Just like how you’re feeling right now once you notice that you’re no longer feeling as stressed as you had earlier once you’re done dumping everything to her. 

Skye’s eyes turn back to you, landing on your covered belly as she curiously asks, “Are you positively sure that Hansol wasn’t the father?” 

You slowly nod your head. As much as you wish that you were wrong, you couldn’t have been mistaken about this.

“What are the odds that it was a false positive?” you suddenly question her, while she shrugs. 

“It’s possible,” she says. “But we can get some more test kits and redo the test. Just in case. Or you could make an appointment with the doctor straight away to make sure.” 

“Right, the doctor—” You let out a soft sigh and close your eyes briefly. It has been a while since you’ve seen your physician. The last time was before—

Oh, shit. 

Your eyes snap open right then. How long ago has it been since you’ve gone to see your physician? The last time was when you went to your regular appointment for your birth control. But that felt so long ago. 

Long before the trip. 

After that appointment, and once the break-up happened, you simply threw yourself into work so much you completely forgot about everything else. And since you were newly single, getting your birth control was the last thing you had in mind at the time. 

Fuck me, you inwardly groan without saying a thing to your roommate who is busy chattering about the doctor, making appointments, and offering to take you there herself. You know that she would lecture you about safe sex like a mother hen if you ever share this with her.

But wait…he wore a condom, right? Yes, you are quite sure he did. The details are blurry when you try to remember, but you do remember protection being involved. 

Groaning to yourself, you fall back on the sofa. Your head starts spinning again when you start worrying about other things. Once you start thinking of a problem that you may have to face, another one comes to mind. 

“What am I supposed to do with this baby?”  

Skye once again raises her eyebrows at you. “I think the right question should be what do you want to do?” she asks, while you can only shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a small voice. The only thing you can think of right now is how you are going to get through this holiday while being pregnant. You are supposed to be home for Christmas in two weeks, and knowing just how crazy your family truly is, you cannot imagine how they would react if they found out you are with a child. 

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “And my family still have no idea that I broke up with Han.” 

“For once, I’m not jealous of your life,” Skye says as she sips her wine. But she is ready for it when you fling the cushion back at her and avoid it without spilling her drink. “Don’t worry. I think they’ll catch on about your failed relationship as soon as you walk into your family home without that hunk by your side.” 

Huffing, you hug the cushion in your arms and lean back. “I guess if they’re going to find out either way, I might as well just tell them the moment I got home.” 

Besides, it might be even harder to hide the fact that you are pregnant. You might not be showing yet, but there is no possible way you could avoid the questions that may come if you are still feeling so sick right in front of your family, or if your cravings suddenly get out of hand. 

Especially if Honey is there. Despite the early signs of dementia showing on her lately, your grandmother has always been so perceptive. And there is no telling what random things she may blurt out once she has some rum in her system. 

With so many different things to think about, you almost forget one important matter that you should be thinking about when it comes to the baby. And just like always, Skye is there to remind you of it. 

“Do you remember his name?” 

You turn to Skye with wide eyes, suddenly panicking inside. You can tell that she can see it on your face and is now sharing the same feeling when she suddenly knocks back the rest of her wine and groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna need more.” 

You watch her pour more wine into her glass, hastily drinking it right after, before turning to you again. “You didn’t get his name? At least tell me that you got his number before you went separate ways.”

You bite your lips. “It’s Tae.” 

“Tae—what?” 

You shake your head. “That’s it,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “That was the only name he ever gave me.” 

“Seriously?” 

Skye is freaking out, you can tell. But you close your eyes and rest your head back, shutting everything down as she starts ranting about how she was supposed to teach you better about hooking up with strangers and keeping yourself safe. 

With her voice turning into white noise at the back of your mind, your memories return to you, taking you back to the eventful night. 

You can almost feel yourself being back there again—back in the cold hotel bar with the scent of old wood and liquor lingering in the air; the murmuring sounds of people chatting and laughing, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the space around you; back to his presence that felt so strong and intense you could barely feel anything else other than him as long as you had your attention fully on him.

“What’s your name?” You remember him asking you with his voice that grew more gentle and deeper the more he drank. 

You leaned into him and giggled in response as if he just said something funny to you. “Does it really matter?” 

His soft chuckle rumbled around you. The voice was so soft, yet you could hear it clearly because of how close you were leaning into him. “I’m sure I remember being taught not to talk to strangers.” 

“Are you telling me that you’ve been a good boy for listening to what your Mom taught you?” you teased him. It was obvious how tipsy you were at this point, which may have been the reason why you were growing more confident. 

“Oh, I’ve always been a good boy,” he answered you while looking amused. He went silent right after. His gaze seemed far away just for a fleeting moment before he finally said, “My name is Tae.” 

“Tae? That’s it?” you asked, “Is that a codename or something?” You feigned a surprise gasp before you leaned into him further to whisper, “Are you secretly a spy?” 

You felt his chest rumbling when he softly laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said, as he played along with your joke. 

But the moment you leaned away from him, you were surprised when you got to see something in him that you couldn’t see before. His guard was down, allowing you to see the vulnerability that was buried deep under his suave and smooth talking. 

For a brief moment, he looked broken. Just like you did. 

And from the way he was hiding himself, not only under the short nickname but also from the way he was masking his emotions, you could tell that he was looking for an escape from reality. The same way you did that night. 

So you simply smiled at him, choosing not to pry further to see beyond the mask and play along. Because at the same time, you wanted to hide your broken heart and become someone else to be able to forget everything. Just for one night. 

“Then you can call me Red. It’s my special codename for tonight.” 

His grin widened. You could almost see the relief washing over him through his warm gaze when he looked at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight,” he said, still with his gentle voice that almost felt like sin licking on your skin when he called you, “Red.” 

Two weeks later…

“Here you go,” your mother’s voice snaps you from whatever stupor you have been stuck in. When you open your eyes, a glass of ginger tea has manifested right before you. 

“Drink this,” your Mom says as she points at the drink. “It should be good for your stomach.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Furrowing your brows, you keep your eyes on the drink instead of reaching for it. Thoughts of those past mornings when you and Skye spent searching through the internet to find a way to get rid of your morning sickness come through your mind. 

Does she know? Did she figure it out already? Is it really that obvious? 

You clench your hands and resist the urge to rub against your stomach. It has become a habit of yours to rub around your belly as if trying to feel the baby that is hiding inside whenever you feel agitated.

After getting the positive results through the home test kits, you had gone straight to the doctor only days before you left the city to have it checked, confirming that a baby is growing inside you. It still feels unbelievable to think about it, even after you saw it yourself with your own eyes. 

“It’s still really early, and we might not be seeing much yet, but that’s your baby,” the doctor’s voice echoes through your mind as you tighten your clenched hands, thinking back to the day you went to have an ultrasound and saw for the first time the growing fetus that was said to be viable to grow fully as a baby. 

Just like how the baby inside you has been nothing more than a blob of mass floating inside your stomach in your mind, your belly itself has yet to change shape. Even if your full awareness of the baby’s presence has only been causing you to find small changes in your body that nobody else might be able to see. 

But Mom has been pregnant before, so wouldn’t she be able to see it? Will that be possible?

“Ginger tea is good for nausea and will give you some energy boost. Your grandma always made it for me whenever I had a stomach ache. I’m sure it’ll help get rid of your nausea and your upset stomach will turn better in no time.” Your Mom stops talking and sighs. “You should’ve told me that you were sick. I wouldn’t have let you drive all the way home if I had known.” 

Ah. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. You should be thankful that she believed you when you told her about having an upset stomach from the long drive home from the city. It was the only thing that you could think of as an excuse when your Mom wondered why you hadn’t been eating well since you got back home and why you were feeling sick.

It makes you wonder why you have been feeling unwell since you got home. Just when you had purposely waited until you were well enough and had stopped throwing up when you planned for the drive. 

It’s almost as if the baby is deliberately making you sick to let everyone know about your secret.

“Thanks, Mom,” you say to your Mom as you reach for the tea, hiding your relieved sigh as you gingerly drink in small sips. 

You have lost count of how many times Skye has made you this drink specifically to stop you from vomiting in the morning before going to work. It has been helping a lot to ease your ‘sickness’, and you are feeling it calming your stomach already as the drink warms your body. 

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you, making you feel uneasy to be under her watchful gaze. “I think it might be better if you get some rest and take things easy. But are you sure you’re okay?” your Mom asks again, still worrying about you. 

You continue drinking the ginger tea slowly while pressing down your guilt. You hate lying to your Mom the most, and now you are starting to regret driving home on your own. If the baby hadn’t been the one responsible for your current sickness, then perhaps driving the long distance has been the reason why your nausea is now coming back with a vengeance.

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions. 

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” you sigh as you place the glass down. “The tea is helping me already. I’ll feel better soon, I promise.” 

Your Mom says nothing for a moment, but the crease you see forming on her forehead says differently. “I’m not just talking about you being sick. Maybe there’s another reason why you’re feeling faint?” 

You look up at her just then. The moment you catch the pitiful look she is giving you, you finally understand what she is trying to say. 

Just as Skye predicted, it didn’t take long for your family to take notice of your solo arrival. In the past, Hansol would have joined you to visit your family for a day or two during the holidays before he would return to his family on Christmas day. So his absence was quite obvious from the get-go. 

And with the big lie that you have to hide from everyone at home, you had to at least give them one honest truth the moment they started asking. 

“We ended things a few months ago,” you admitted to your family during the first dinner you had since you got home. By that time, you had already tried to avoid the questions for long enough. Nobody has brought up about it again since then. 

Until now. 

“If you’re talking about the breakup, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, Mom. It’s been months since it happened. I’ve been trying to move on.” 

In fact, you haven’t been thinking about your ex at all for a long time. Not until you brought it up to Skye and then again when your family started questioning. The only thing you have been worrying about lately is the baby growing inside you and finding a way to search for the father of the baby. 

It was the one thing that you talked about with Skye before you left. While you are capable enough to raise the baby on your own, you decided it would be the best course of action to contact the father and let him know.

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.” 

Just in case the father would care enough to know that he has a son or a daughter coming into this world and wants to be in their life. 

“But if we fail to find him or he wants nothing to do with the baby, then we’ll deal with it on our own. You just got your promotion, I got my good pay. We can raise the baby together. You and me, just like old times.”

Skye’s words put a smile on your face. She always knows how to lift your spirit up whenever you feel like giving up, and those exact words have helped boost your confidence and made you believe that you could get through this. 

But first, you just need to get through spending this holiday with your family. 

“I know you said that. But as your Mom, I can’t help but worry. I thought you were serious and we’ll be hearing some good news about you getting married this year.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, Mom,” you tease her with a bitter chuckle. You don’t bother to mention that the two of you had never once talked about marriage throughout your relationship.

Yet another sign that you overlooked. At least you never got to waste anymore time with him.

“Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens when a couple grow into two different people in the course of their relationship. Which was exactly what happened to us. Hansol wanted to focus on his career, in return, I also got the chance to focus on mine.” 

Just as you said the words, you realise that this is true for your case. 

Hansol has always been career-driven, and it has been growing stronger lately for him with the constant rise he was experiencing in his current company. And breaking up with your long-time boyfriend has allowed you to turn your focus on your job. The recent promotion you gained was a testament to your hard work to show you that there might be a silver lining to everything that has happened. 

“I suppose you’re right,” your Mom says with a smile. You are beginning to feel a bit relieved that she seems to understand. You are hoping that she would start talking about something else when she adds, “I just feel sad that it didn’t work out for you. And we were all expecting to have Hansol joining us again this year. I guess it’s too late now to let your sister know about this since she’s supposed to arrive today.” 

Stepsister. 

You lift your glass and slowly drink your tea to stop yourself from correcting her. For some reason, you feel a bit bitter having your mother mention her all so suddenly. 

It isn’t that you hate your stepsister. It’s hard to feel something so extreme when you barely had any relationship with her at all. Back when you were younger, your mother did try to get you two to get along and be friends. 

To make her happy, you tried your best to act friendly, or at least to be cordial whenever she was around, even when the only thing she showed you over the years had been nothing but contempt. 

But things changed after a drunken fit that she had last holiday season, when she got drunk and tried to make a move and openly flirted with your then-boyfriend. Even if nothing ever came out of it except for her own embarrassment, as Hansol openly rejected her and stayed away from her for the remaining time he was here, the incident still left a bad taste that made you feel bitter. 

That was when you finally decided that you would stop trying to be nice.

You put down the glass and try to remain calm. What’s done is done. All you have to do is focus on getting through this holiday before going back to the city and start with your mission to search for the baby’s father.

“What does Alia have to do with my break up?” you ask your mother, hoping that she wouldn’t bring up the drama from last year. 

“Oh, it’s nothing serious, really,” your Mom answers with a soft chuckle, “It’s just that Alia called home sometime last week, asking if she could bring someone over this Christmas. She said that she’s been seeing someone new and since she was bringing him to meet her mother, she wondered if it would be okay if she could bring him along to meet us too.” 

Your Mom sighs, looking a bit guilty when she adds, “We figured since you might bring Hansol with you, it would be okay if she has her new boyfriend along. Maybe the guys could get along and spend time together while you and Alia catch up.” 

You try to imagine you and Alia catching up like old friends or—just like what your Mom has been wishing you to be—as sisters, and you almost shake your head. 

Yeah, that seems unlikely, you bitterly wonder to yourself, yet you don’t have the heart to tell your mother that there is not much hope for you and Alia to be good friends. 

“I guess it’s a shame that Hansol isn’t here,” you simply say to your mother while you inwardly wonder just what your stepsister is really up to this year. 

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” your mother says with a sigh. “But I’m glad that at least both of you girls can make it home this year.” 

“Me too, Mom,” you force a smile, silently hoping that you can start talking about something else. Something that doesn’t concern your bitter stepsister coming home or bringing up any dark thoughts about your ex. “So, what are we having for dinner? Want my help in the kitchen?” 

Your question immediately puts everything into motion, drifting her attention away from your sappy story and the false hope of sisterhood that may never happen between you and your stepsister. Your Mom tries to stop you from helping out in the kitchen at first but finally gives in when you keep insisting. 

At least, this way, you can keep your mind busy enough to stop it from thinking about unnecessary thoughts the way it often does when you are alone. 

Things seem to be going on well enough at first, until your sickness returns and you have to give up trying. 

”See, I told you that you should be resting until you feel better,” your mother complains as she watches you bending over, keeping away from the stove and what is currently cooking on top of it which seems to be making you feel dizzy and sick. 

After garlic, lemon-scented air freshener, and coconut milk, seems you are going to have to add raw chicken to the list of things that may trigger your nausea.

“But then I’ll be bored like hell,” you argue, “I’m fine, Mom. Just let me take a quick break for a minute.” 

Your mother looks as if she wants to say something, but the sound of a car coming into the driveway interrupts her. Both of you turn to look out towards the living room, just in time to see your stepfather, Cliff, turning in the corner of the hall and rushing towards the front door. 

“Honey, they’re here!” he calls out, and you urge your mother to join him. 

“Go, Mom. I’ll finish things up and make sure nothing gets burned before I join you guys.”

Once your mother is out of the kitchen, you can no longer resist pressing your palm on your stomach. 

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?” 

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely full-grown at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes. 

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute. 

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter. 

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start. 

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults. 

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving. 

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia’s soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you. 

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.” 

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion. 

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests. 

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out. 

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.” 

That voice. 

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well. 

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice. 

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door. 

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first. 

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room whenever she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.  

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him. 

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes. 

Too familiar. 

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago. 

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city. 

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands. 

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.” 

No. 

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe. 

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae? 

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is tilting over, slowly taking you down with it. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream. 

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him. 

Please. Please don’t let it be him. 

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend. 

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence. 

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong. 

Please tell me that it’s not him. 

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you. 

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along. 

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever. 

Fuck. 

Me.

At one glance, this moment would seem like any other pre-holiday family dinner. It may seem picture perfect, even—if you had been a stranger looking in. 

There are still a couple of days left until Christmas Day, yet the festive mood has already filled the room. From the living room, all the way to the dining room, Christmas decorations are already plastered across the walls and hung from the ceiling. On the dining table, the delectable meal that your mother worked hard to prepare—with your poor assistance—had been perfectly laid out. 

With Alia’s arrival today, the immediate family is now complete. Ever the charming daughter, Alia takes up the attention of everyone around her as she shares her story—about how she has been travelling between different states and some neighbouring countries, changing jobs, finding new hobbies, and even planning to adopt a new pet. 

Sitting at the head of the table, your stepfather is soaking it all in, enjoying the time he has with his daughter whom he rarely gets to see throughout the year. Your mother sits on his right, getting the front seat of their merry reunion. She would sometimes chime in, never failing to try to get you into joining their idle chat even when you are not feeling up to it. 

Other times, you would have been able to easily play along. From making cordial comments and joining with all the light jokes shared by your family, or feigning interest in anything that Alia might be sharing at the table—even when she rarely would share the same courtesy when you did the same. 

Tonight, however, it feels like a struggle for you to focus on the conversation shared at the table, let alone pretend to be interested. Not when you are busy trying your best to calm your nerves. 

You can't even embrace the same warm atmosphere that everyone seems to be sharing. 

For you, the air around feels stifling and tense. It has been this way ever since you sat down right next to your mother for dinner. Because due to the seating arrangement, the special guest of the night is now sitting right across from you at the table. 

Taehyung. 

The last person that you had ever expected to see. Not here. Certainly not at your home or sharing the same space with your parents. 

It seems surreal to meet him here like this. Even more so when he was introduced to your family as Alia’s new boyfriend.

Judging from the way he reacted when he first saw you, you can tell that he never expected something like this could ever happen. You know that he has questions, perhaps just as much as you do, yet the situation that you found yourself in right now isn’t allowing you to even show any sign that the two of you know each other or to have met before today. 

But there is something in the way he is looking at you that doesn’t sit right with you. Aside from the lingering shock you see each time your eyes accidentally meet each other, there is a look that shows a semblance of guilt, despair, and at the same time, filled with wonder. 

Was it because he never expected to see you again after that night, much less to find out that you are somehow related to the woman that he is dating? Or was there something else going through his mind? 

“This is Alia’s sister, ______,” was what your mother said when she first introduced you to him. At that point, you and Taehyung were stunned to silence, and for a brief moment, neither of you reacted. 

Thinking about it now, you can’t even remember how you managed to join your family in the living room. The moment you saw Taehyung standing there, your legs nearly gave out. It was a wonder how you managed to stop yourself from falling or tripping as you walked over to them in a state of distraught. 

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” was all that you managed to croak out of once you snapped out of it. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond when you suddenly turned your attention to your stepsister, forcing a smile on your face when you greeted her, “Hey, Alia. It’s good to see you. You seem well.” 

You can’t even remember the expression that Alia gave you when she responded to you, “Uh yeah, thanks. You too.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll let you guys settle in. I left the stove on, so—” 

That was the last thing you said before you turned away and quickly left the room, practically running away from him to hide back in the kitchen. The last thing you heard as you walked away was your mother’s voice saying something about you being her assistant of the day in the kitchen while you were feeling unwell, as if excusing you for your unmannerly attitude. 

By the time you got back in the kitchen, your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was racing so fast you could barely breathe. It took a long time for the shock to wane, and you had spent the rest of the day staying away from both of them, avoiding him entirely until you were finally called to join dinner. 

And you are still avoiding him even now, keeping your head down as much as you can and resisting the urge to look his way. As if it isn’t hard enough for you to have him sitting right in front of you, you can feel the heat of his gaze constantly following you whenever you are not looking.

He doesn’t make it so obvious, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed it yet. Perhaps you are just too hyperaware of his presence that you caught on to it so easily.

You sneak a glance at your stepsister, wondering if Alia has taken notice of her boyfriend’s wandering gaze or where he has been directing his eyes. It takes you watching the conversation between her and your parents more closely to see it. 

Because it turns out that she also has her own gaze wandering to questionable places at the same time that she isn’t paying much attention to her boyfriend. 

Each time Alia turns to regard your mother or speak to her, her gaze flickers away briefly, ever so subtly landing on the seat to your right. At the seat that Hansol would usually occupy whenever he joined you during these holiday visits. 

It is easy to catch it when you are seeing it from your angle. And it is easy to guess what is going through her head when she keeps doing it with a curious look written all over her face. An unspoken question seems to linger, while the incident from last year keeps flashing through your head when you picture Hansol being present beside you. 

Even if nobody notices her intention, you doubt that anyone would question her about it, seeing that the seat that was supposed to be left empty has been taken by someone else. 

While you are busy trying to make sense out of everything, your grandmother makes a disapproval noise with her tongue, grabbing your attention. “Are you still feeling under the weather? You’ve been drinking that boring thing the whole day,” she says, referring to the glass of iced tea that you have just put down after taking a drink from it to cool down. 

You turn to look at your dear grandmother, Honey, and smile at her. She probably hasn’t realised what a saving grace she has been for taking the unoccupied seat to your right the minute she came in for dinner. 

And she is now helping you again by drawing your attention away from the source of your dismay. Immediately, you feel better the moment you are met with Honey’s smile. 

“I’m feeling much better, actually. I’m just being careful not to drink anything that might get me sick,” you answer carefully, hoping to sound reasonable enough without making anyone question your ‘sickness’ any further. 

The more you lie to your family about it, the more guilty you feel. You don’t have much choice at the moment but to hide it just a bit longer. 

At first, you couldn’t share the news with your parents simply because you were still clueless about how you were going to find the father of the baby with only limited information you had of him. But then things only got even more complicated for you to ever come clean when he walked through the front door of your parents’ home. 

What are the odds that the man you hooked up with turns out to be the man your stepsister is currently dating? And here you are now, stuck in the same room with them while hiding a secret which may change the course of everyone’s entire life.

Yeah, miracles don’t exist. Not for me, at least.

Honey taps at your hand on the table as you grow silent, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head. “You know what you need?” she asks, whispering in a conspiring tone that she barely keeps down so that everyone at the table can still hear her voice. 

And she does it while looking at you with her wide, expecting eyes, with the barely concealed mischief written all over her face. It makes you smile, knowing where this is going. So you simply play along. 

"No, Honey. What would that be?” 

Her mischievous smile widens as she leans closer. “A hint of rum. With a few drops into that boring tea of yours, you’ll feel better in no time,” she says, lifting her hand and showing you a pinching gesture with her thumb and forefinger nearly touching each other, “Just a pinch. Or better yet, just trade your whole glass—” 

The sound of your Mom’s frustrated sigh cuts her off. “Mom, I already told you, giving her alcohol isn’t going to make her feel better. I’ve already given her some herbal tea, that should be enough until she can get a proper rest.”

“Oh, posh,” Honey says, waving her hand at your mother. “Ignore your Mom,” Honey says just as you are about to respond. “I’m telling you. Alcohol is best to cure your heartbreak,” she adds, and you certainly have no arguments against that. Alcohol might be able to help you forget. 

But, alas…

But, wait a minute. You stop and look closely at Honey. What is she talking about? 

“What do you mean?” you question her while tilting your head, wondering deep down if she had noticed something. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to tell the high tension rolling between you and Taehyung through dinner. 

Nobody else could. But you also know that if there is anyone in your family who might be able to catch on with the tension rolling between the two of you, it would be Honey. 

Once again, Honey reaches out and taps her dainty fingers on the back of your hand. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling down, peaches? I know you’re still thinking about that good for nothing—” 

Honey stops herself and bites down her smile before you can figure out what she is about to say. But you have heard enough to understand who she is referring to. 

Relief washes over you when you realise that she was talking about your ex, Hansol. She must have thought that you have been stressing over the breakup and you have been feeling unwell because of it.

Honey leans in, this time lowering her voice just enough only for you to hear. “You must’ve taken it from me. I also get a stomach bug when I’m stressed out. Just like last summer when I lost a go-stop game against the ladies from the block,” she says, before she continues blabbering about how she had made bets during the game and went all-in only to lose everything. 

“You might think that they’re nothing but small pennies used for gambling coins, but I spent a whole week collecting them. How am I supposed to replace all of them before the next game?” she continues to complain, while you laugh at her. 

Her story takes away the tension on your shoulders for a brief moment before she adds, “And then you had to come here and watch these two being all lovey-dovey with each other.” 

As Honey mentions the pair sitting across the table, waving her hand at them to make a point, your eyes are drawn towards them once more. And your gaze lands right on Alia’s hand which is now resting on top of Taehyung’s. 

Seeing this makes you feel tight in the chest. Bitterness fills your mouth which you can barely hide with a tight smile. Honey may not have been entirely correct with her assumptions, yet her comment still hits the mark somehow. 

Not about Hansol, obviously, as he is the one to occupy your mind the least. Yet she wasn’t too far off when she talked about the new pair of lovers before you. Seeing them does make you uncomfortable, miserable even, but for entirely different reasons. 

Looking away from their joined hands, your gaze meets Alia’s. She is wearing an unreadable expression on her face as she listens in to Honey’s words. And the strange look that she is giving you now is making you feel uneasy.

Just as you start wondering if Alia has noticed something, she instead asks you, “You guys broke up?” 

She throws a quick glance at Honey’s seat with a frown. For others, she might seem concerned, yet there is a look in her eyes which tells you that there is something more. “I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around. He was with us last holiday.” 

Her comment rubs you in the wrong way. You have no idea why she would care when your relationship has nothing to do with her. But you try to not let it bother you. “Yes, it’s been months now since we broke up. I only told Mom and Dad yesterday when I first got home.” 

“I see,” she says. Her voice comes out so softly that it almost comes out as a murmur. She pulls her hand back and places it on her lap. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” she adds while offering a small smile. And for some reason, she also seems guilty. 

Does she think it has something to do with what happened last year? 

Her words remind you of something that she said to you last year, back on the morning you confronted her after her drunken blunder which happened the night before. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s just drunk talking.” 

That incident shouldn’t be bothering you today. Yet it still makes you feel bitter when you think about it. The feeling only grows worse when you glance at Taehyung who is showing a sudden interest in this whole thing. 

“It’s fine. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” you simply repeat the same thing you said to your mother earlier while biting back the real question that is hanging right at the tip of your tongue. 

But what’s in it to you? 

No matter how curious you are to know what kind of scheme that is going through her pretty little head, you know it’s not worth all the drama that it might cause. You cannot even possibly imagine the drama that would unfold once this whole baby thing comes out.

God, just thinking about it is already making your stomach churn. Your lower abdomen suddenly feels hard and heavy. As if you have a full-size lead inside instead of a small, growing blob that is about to form into an actual living baby within a few weeks from now. 

Thinking about the baby, your eyes find the man who is behind all of this. He has grown oddly quiet while you were conversing with your stepsister and is now staring at his food with a frown on his face.

“So tell me,” you ask calmly while clenching your hands, doing your best to hide the trembles, “How did you two meet?”

This question immediately draws Taehyung’s attention. His eyes snap up, but the moment he looks at you, his face seems to grow pale and he becomes awfully nervous.

“We, uh—we used to work at the same company before Alia left to venture into other things,” he says, almost stuttering. He also keeps stealing glances at Alia, as if begging her to help him out. 

Huh, strange.

What is it about answering your simple question which makes him so nervous? 

Or perhaps…

Have they been seeing each other when the two of you hooked up? 

Fuck. 

The moment this thought crosses your mind, you suddenly feel sick. Your stomach grows heavier with anxiety. Meanwhile, Alia’s smile seems to beam brighter. 

“We didn’t work in the same division back then, but we would frequently meet during breaks and company hours. Had it been, what, a year after we last met?” Alia turns to Taehyung, who stiffly nods his head. She grabs his hand once again and looks at him lovingly as she continues, “We met again last summer by chance while I was travelling and started talking since then.” 

Last summer? But that was before—

Your head starts spinning. You grab your glass and take a couple of small sips of your tea to regain composure, yet the drink suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue. 

Honey’s voice barely registers in your brain when she responds with a hum. “Travelling in the summer? That sounds like a charming way to meet a new lover,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips as she continues marvelling at your stepsister’s story. “You must have felt some sparks when you two met. I bet you’re still feeling it now, aren’t you?”

You have no idea what she has inside that ceramic mug, as she had been nursing the same drink since even before dinner started. You can bet money that she had more than a pinch of rum dropped inside that drink of hers, seeing how talkative she is becoming. 

Oh, how you wish you could have a taste of it. Just a sip would have been good enough. Maybe it can also help to stop your hands from trembling. 

“And the ring?” Honey asks again with a teasing tone as she points at their entwined hands. “I noticed that you two are wearing matching rings. You can’t possibly be engaged already, can you?” 

Almost choking on your drink, you slowly set your glass back down and pull your hands onto your lap, hiding them from prying eyes just in time as they begin to shake.

“But it wasn’t that different back in the day,” Honey continues, “I remember that Russ—that’s my dear late husband,” she explains to Taehyung, “he bought me a cheap ring at the beginning of our relationship to show me and my parents that he was serious about courting me.” 

On any other times that Honey would speak about your late grandfather, you would always enjoy listening to every word, admiring how she would always share her story with pure love in her voice and wonder glowing in her eyes. 

But not this time. 

Ever since she pointed out the ring and started talking about your grandfather’s old promises, you start having trouble breathing. The more she speaks, the worse it gets, and now there is a ringing sound echoing in your ear that seems to be coming from different directions. 

“I still keep the ring with me, side by side with the wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore on these wrinkly fingers of mine,” Honey keeps gushing. She raises her hands and starts wiggling her fingers to show them off, while your whole body grows tense. 

Alia shares a nervous laugh with Taehyung and waves her hand at Honey. “Oh, no…it’s actually a part of a joke that we—” 

You try to tune out the voices, the words that are being said, while clasping your hands tighter together on your lap, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Alia’s voice fades in and out beyond the loud ringing in your head as she continues to tell her story about how they started dating and the ring came to be. With everything that is going on, added with your awareness over Taehyung’s intense gaze that doesn’t seem to waver, it becomes too overwhelming that you feel as if you are slowly being swallowed into the ground beneath you. 

With a sharp gasp, you slowly push yourself out of your seat. “Excuse me, I have to—” your voice cracks as you speak. As you stand, you notice that everyone has their eyes on you, all curious to know what is happening with you. 

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

You can feel the blood draining from your face under all the unwanted attention, making you wish that you could just fade away right at that moment. But then your hand find its way to your stomach, and it almost feels like there is a touch of warmth forming under your palm. It helps you force a smile and gather yourself just enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to step out early. I hope that’s alright. You guys enjoy the rest of dinner.” 

You don’t wait for anyone’s response as you turn away, finding your escape merely moments before you get into a full-blown meltdown right in front of everyone. 

Your legs are wobbly as you walk down the hall, yet you still manage to slip into the guest bathroom downstairs. With trembling hands, you lock the door behind you, shutting yourself from the world outside. 

And that is when you fall apart, turning into a heaving mess as everything that you have been bottling up inside comes flooding out of you. 

“Breathe,” you command yourself while you fight back against your nausea. Holding onto the bathroom counter, you keep yourself and try your best to focus on controlling your breath. 

Take a slow, deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. 

Little by little, all the tension, the trembling, and the tightness in your chest begin to wane. But once everything is gone, once you begin to find calmness, your emotions seize control of you.

The next thing you know, an unstoppable flow of tears comes running down your face and you start sobbing, crying in defeat. 

“Shit. Fuck. What a mess,” you curse between each sob, feeling absolutely helpless and alone. You close your eyes, hoping that you can clear your head by doing so. Yet your mind keeps going to dark places. Constantly wondering and questioning about all of this. 

About him. 

“Did he ever mention anything that was related to his personal life that night?” you cannot help but wonder out loud. 

Only silence answers. Because you hold little to no recollection of the details from the conversation you shared with him that night. Whenever you try to remember, it always feels like there was a part of your memory that had gone missing. 

You haven’t had the slightest clue of the things you shared with him at the bar once the drinks started coming more frequently. Which is a wonder, because you are completely sure that neither of you had gotten drunk enough to experience a blackout, much less lose a memory.

At least for you, the alcohol was just enough to burn through your nerves and help build your confidence to take the lead and openly show the attraction you had for him. Even if he did end up taking back control the moment the two of you finally gave in to temptation. 

Your head starts pounding, aching the more you try to remember the missing details. Meanwhile, all the questions won’t stop coming, making it harder for you to regain a peaceful mind.

Did he ever mention having a girlfriend, or at least give any hint that he was taken? 

Was he wearing that ring on his finger when he was touching your skin under the dim light of his bedroom suite? 

You shake your head and close your eyes again when you still remember nothing. The only thing that remains in your memory is the look you saw in his gaze that night. The pitiful look that seemed to mirror yours, making you believe that he was looking for the same thing you did that night. 

An escape. A way to forget even if for a moment. 

But what if that was all just another lie? 

Your stomach churns. A sharp pain comes shooting through your body. It starts from your lower abdomen, causing you to almost double over. 

Fuck. Now what? 

Your hand instantly comes down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing gently against it until the uncomfortable ache ebbs under your touch. 

Right, I’m supposed to avoid any form of stress, you remind yourself as you recall what your doctor told you the last time you went to see her. Something about getting your blood tension rising when you are stressed, and that it wouldn’t be good for both you and the baby in the long run. Closing your eyes, you try to think of happy thoughts, all while keeping your palm pressed on your stomach.

To your surprise, rubbing your palm against the barely-there baby bump on your belly isn’t just helping you to soothe the pain away, but also to calm yourself down. 

With a sigh, you gently wipe your tears and look down. “I’m sorry for swearing so much, baby. I promise to stop doing it once you’ve grown big enough to start hearing things so you won’t learn any of it too soon. But fuck, this is too much.” 

It feels odd to speak like this to the living being growing inside you that is barely more than a piece of flesh. Yet speaking to your growing baby seems to help ease your anxiety a little. 

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone. 

“Let’s not think any bad thoughts. Let’s not assume that your Dad is an asshole, okay? Not until we get to hear the full story,” you whisper to the tiny human growing inside you. The more you speak to it, the more it seems to be helping you to find some ease of mind. 

But even if it turns out that he was…

“Then I can deal with it later with my head held high,” you murmur to yourself in a soft, yet reassuring tone of voice. And you repeat it again, and again, almost as if you are chanting a spell which would be able to give you a boost of confidence. 

It may not immediately change the way you look at things, yet you can feel it slowly rising within you. It feels like a ray of light, the first spark of hope that you get to feel amid all the uncertainty which surrounds you.

Soon enough, the strong urge to cry no longer overcomes you. Even your hands have stopped shaking. All that you have left is exhaustion. It rolls through your body with a vengeance, and there is nothing that you want more right now other than to curl up like a ball on your bed and sleep it off. 

You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror, and instantly a bitter laugh escapes you at what you are seeing.

Because you look like a complete mess. Your life is slowly turning into shambles, and it seems to be mocking you through your own reflection that is now staring back at you. 

“Just exactly what I need,” you whisper with a sigh.

I need to be stronger, if only for the sake of this little one in me, you tell yourself as you splash cold water at your face to wash away all the mess—the drying tears, your swollen eyes, and the skin on your face which has yet to regain its normal colours. 

It feels therapeutic to be washing everything off, leaving nothing more but your swollen eyes which you can explain as a part of your sickness. You may not be strong enough to take on the world, but at least now, you are prepared to face the reality that is waiting for you right outside of this door. 

No matter how fucking messy it is. 

Having this new revelation should be giving you a newfound credence that could push you forward. And yet there is none of that here. The only thing you are feeling now is the new bout of anxiety rolling up through your body, starting from your stomach as it churns painfully.

“Yeah, now I feel sick,” you groan as you rush to the toilet bowl, seconds away before you start dumping the small amount of food you had during dinner into waste. 

It takes a bit longer than expected before you finally find the courage to step out of the bathroom. 

Soft murmurs filter into the bathroom the moment you open the door. You can tell that the voices are coming from the living room, which means that the family has gathered there after dinner. It allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you wouldn’t have to hide or make excuses if you have to bump into someone on your way to your bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are relieved that nobody is around. Everyone should be in the living room, so you make haste, hoping to be able to escape before anyone notices. 

But as you turn to the next hallway, someone is standing in your way. The light is dim, yet you can easily recognise him before you get any closer. Standing with his back leaning against the wall, he has his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes looking absently into the distance. 

As though he has been waiting for you. 

Taehyung turns when he notices you coming. Before you can start to wonder what he is doing here, a smile grows on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay? Everyone was worried,” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned. 

The calm tone of his voice might be a bit deceiving if only you are not looking into his eyes. His gaze keeps wavering as he speaks, as if he is unable to look at you for too long. The same guilt you saw earlier is still present in his eyes. And you hate seeing it there. 

It only tells you that he has a secret that he is keeping from you. You have no idea how to feel about it. But if it has to do with his relationship with Alia, then—

“I’m fine, it’s just—” 

Your cheeks grow warm the moment you speak, feeling embarrassed at how dry your voice sounds. “It’s nothing. You heard my Mom, I’ll be better in no time.” 

You have so many things to say to him. So many questions that you would like to give him. But you are too tired to do anything. Much less to talk. As much as you can convince yourself that you are ready to face anything, now is not the right time to do it. 

So you keep your mouth shut and try to walk past him instead. Only that he isn’t letting you go that easily. 

“You know, it really is nice to see you again, Red.” 

His voice sounds so subdued that you almost miss it. You come to a halt. Your heartbeat starts picking up again. If you ever needed confirmation that the sinful night you shared with him truly happened, and that he remembered any part of it, then this is it. 

His comment which instantly brings you back to that fateful night. The nickname that he used to call you then.

You close your eyes, refusing to remember the way he managed to draw out a myriad of sensations with his voice alone. You refuse to be brought back there again. Not now, when your mind isn’t clear enough to be dealing with this. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself just enough to face him.

Only to be met with his amused smile as he looks at you. 

“I was surprised to see you. I never would have thought that you could somehow be related to Alia.” He lets out a chuckle. It sounds empty and a bit bitter, mirroring exactly how you are feeling right now. 

Your chest feels tight, hating the way he is saying her name. Nor do you enjoy seeing the way his gaze changes when he does it. Annoyance fills your chest that you can barely speak, while he remains in his blissful ignorance as he continues talking, 

“Funny how life works, doesn’t it? I kept thinking about you after we met and wondered if we would ever see each other again. I regretted that I didn’t ask for your number before we parted ways. I didn’t even get to ask for your real name.” 

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold. 

You never admitted it before—not to yourself, and not even to Skye, when you first talked about him—yet there was some point between that night and the day you found out about the pregnancy that you spent your nights wondering if you would ever see him again. 

If there had been one thing that you regretted about that night, it would be the decision you made to leave the next morning without asking for his real name or leaving any means of contact. 

A night to escape from reality. 

That was all it meant for you at the time. So when the morning came, it was time for you to return to reality. Your reality. Your real life. And you were too busy preparing yourself to face all the hurt, the bad memories, and the stressful life that had nothing to do with the desirable woman that he brought into his bed the night before to even consider exchanging contacts with him. 

It didn’t matter if you were still riding the high of that night’s self-gratification and wanton pleasure through the rest of your trip. The moment everything ended, you simply moved on from it. Putting everything about that night to the back of your mind as you returned to your normal life and quickly fell back into your normal routine. 

Until weeks later, when life decided to fuck you over and you ended up with a baby growing inside you, and you had no way to find or contact him to inform him about it. 

“I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Your conviction quickly melts into dread once you are reminded of the current circumstances. “It’s kinda too late now to talk about it and regret what didn’t happen, don’t you think? Seeing that you’re now dating my stepsister.” 

Taehyung winces. For a brief moment, you almost believe you can see a glimpse of hurt flickering through his gaze. And for some reason, it only pisses you off. 

So he doesn’t like being reminded of the fact that he is here for someone else? 

“Look, about Alia. I was hoping that we could talk. Maybe when all of this is done, or maybe after the holidays we can—” 

He continues talking, but you aren’t hearing anything. The questions that flooded your brain earlier come flashing back. The ringing that pained you returns. Everything lasts for a few more seconds before your mind clears out, and only one question remains. 

“Were the two of you already dating when we slept together?” 

He falls silent, taken aback. 

“No!” he immediately says, almost shouting. But he quickly reins himself before his voice would reach where everyone is and draw their attention. “Fuck, no. Is that why you’ve been sulking all through dinner?” he asks you with a hiss. He seems offended and hurt at the same time. “I’m not that kind of guy. Trust me.” 

“Sulking?” you let out an incredulous laugh. Is that how he saw it? When you were coming close to breaking apart right in front of everyone because of him? 

“How am I supposed to trust you when I barely know you? How am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth?” you snap back at him with a hiss. “Just because we fucked it doesn’t mean that I’d magically know everything about you.” 

Again, he winces at your question. As if your words come to him like a slap on his face. He takes a deep breath and speaks more calmly in response, “Look, we should talk. Soon. I can explain everything. But not now, okay?” 

As much as you hate to admit it, or to agree with him, you decide that he is right. There are a lot of things that you need to discuss with him, and now is not the right time to do it. Not when your emotions are all over the place and when he has his girlfriend keeping him in close sight most of the time. 

“I agree. We do need to talk,” you finally agree, even though you know that both of you have different things in mind. 

You have no idea what he intends to discuss with you. The only thing that matters to you is to talk about the baby that you conceived together. And hopefully, decide what will happen next. 

“I should go,” you sigh, feeling exhausted and drained. “I need to lie down. This is too much for me to process.” 

You try to walk around him so you can continue on your way. Your head is pounding, and you have the dire need to rest in your comfortable bed, where you would be able to feel safe and hide away from all of this. 

“Wait,” Taehyung stops you before you can go too far. 

“What?” you ask him, feeling exasperated—both from the stress and from the way your body still tingles each time you hear his voice. You really need to get away from him. 

“Nothing, it’s just…” he starts, suddenly looking nervous with what he is about to say. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, making him glance over his shoulder briefly before speaking to you with a lowered voice, “Can you do me a favour?” 

You frown at him. “What is it?” 

He looks wary, and it makes you feel uneasy in the stomach as you wait for him to speak. 

But what he says next makes you feel even worse. “Please don’t tell Alia that we’ve met before, more importantly that we hooked up that night.” 

You say nothing at first. Even if you are well aware of the situation and where Alia’s position in all of this, it still doesn’t stop the sharp pain you feel in your chest as he mentions her name, or to express his request. 

Taehyung steps closer when you remain quiet. His voice comes as a desperate whisper when he pleads with you, “Please? Can you do this for me?” 

You grit your teeth. “Fine, I won’t,” you finally say to him. But you refuse to give in that easily.

Taking a step closer to him, you point at him and demand him, “But you need to tell her.” 

He clenches his jaw as he listens to your demands, but you ignore it and continue to talk. “She needs to know—” your voice nearly wavers, because you know what would happen once everything is revealed. 

Telling your stepsister that you had slept with her boyfriend would not only be hard, but it would be ugly. 

But it would be better than keeping it a secret for much longer. Because secrets don’t always remain hidden, no matter how hard you try to keep them in the shadows. And things would even get messier once the baby comes while she is still being kept in the dark. 

It’s better to bite the bullet as soon as possible, rather than waiting and living your life in uncertainty until the day comes. 

“If you don’t, and we keep this a secret much longer, things might get messier if she somehow finds out on her own. The last thing I’d ever want is to get into any drama. Not with her,” you try to convince Taehyung, despite him looking like he would rather bolt and have nothing to do with any of this. 

After all the drama that happened last year, the last thing you need is to get involved in another. 

“I’ll tell her myself if necessary.” There is a bite in your voice when you are telling him all of this. To his credit, Taehyung—despite looking shell-shocked and cornered—seems to respect and understand your request. 

He lowers his head and nods. “Give me time. I’ll—” 

You are surprised to see him looking defeated. It makes you wonder if there is something more about their relationship that you need to know before going further. 

As Taehyung raises his head again, he seems more resolved. He looks straight into your eyes as he promises, “I’ll tell her myself once I get the chance to. I promise. But we’re going to have that talk first, and soon.” 

“It’s a promise.” You bite back the ache that suddenly pierces through your heart, seeing how he is so adamant about protecting his relationship with your stepsister. Trying not to look too deep into it and get yourself hurt further, you avoid looking into his gaze and start walking away from him. 

“Goodnight then—” you whisper to him as you turn away from him, biting back the sound of your defeat when you call his name, “Tae.” 

The moment you are within the safety of your bedroom, your knees buckle. Thankfully, you still manage to close the door and lock it behind you, once again shutting yourself from everyone to give you some moment of peace.

Although it doesn’t stop him from entering your mind in the silence that follows. 

As you lie down in your bed, curled up in a fetal position with your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Taehyung in the hallway. 

You can’t help it. His words keep coming back to you, and you keep finding yourself dissecting everything he said. You close your eyes, and keep telling yourself to stop. The situation that you are dealing with right now already seems absurd enough for you to waste your energy trying to understand him. 

You begin to wonder if things would have been better if you hadn’t come across each other again. Things would probably turn out differently. You may have to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him, and the truth about the father a secret from your family. 

You may have to deal with everything yourself. 

The possibility seems petrifying, but it still sounds a lot better than having to go against your stepsister. Better than causing your frail relationship to become even worse. This time, you know that this would be big enough to ruin any chance for you and your stepsister to have any kind of relationship at all. 

He was right. It’s funny how life works. If only it doesn’t have to be this hard to laugh it off. 

Stop it. 

Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a deep sigh and force yourself to think about something else. Anything. As long as you are not thinking about him. His face, his voice, the scent of his cologne, everything that belongs to him. 

Your head starts swimming. No, everything about him now belongs to someone else. 

Once again, you force yourself to start thinking of less stressful things. Like Skye’s text message from this afternoon suggesting that you could run away with her to a secluded place somewhere in Europe so that the two of you could raise the baby together. Or the little stories that Honey shared about the cute new gardener now working at her apartment complex—the complex specifically built for elders like herself—that she wanted to introduce to you the next time you come by to visit.

You regret forgetting to pick up the smoothie that your mother made for you while you were throwing up in the bathroom, all due to Taehyung’s distraction. You wonder if having the smoothie would be able to help you feel better. Picturing the drink being left attended in the kitchen, you can picture your grandmother—the sweet little mischievous angel that she is—sneaking in a few drops of rum into the smoothie when your mother isn’t looking. 

This thought makes you smile. It replaces every ugly thoughts that keep circling inside your mind and calms you down. 

Your heartbeat is no longer beating like crazy. The more you fill your head with wonderful thoughts, the sooner the uneasy feeling in your stomach begins to wane. 

And soon enough, you start drifting away to a restless sleep. 

But just like how he invaded your home with his sudden appearance, Taehyung invades your sleep once your mind is left unguarded. 

Speaking to him, albeit briefly, brings you back to that night. The moment you close your eyes, you start seeing everything from back then that you couldn’t remember in your waking hours. Even the smallest details that your conscious mind has forgotten. Everything comes crashing down on you as you toss and turn in your bed, unable to give in completely to a peaceful slumber as memories continue to flood your dreams. 

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted. 

The overhead lamp above your head was bright, and it was hurting your eyes. You could barely see a thing through your bleary eyes, until your gaze drifted further, looking into the dimly lit bedroom far across the foyer. 

The room looked more spacious than yours, albeit a bit messy. The massive bed looked comfortable, and there were two lounge seats set up near the windows that looked more luxurious than the ones you had in your room. 

“Your bedroom seems a lot more cozy than mine.” 

The words came out of your lips with a moan. The sound seemed foreign. Barely recognisable through your hazy mind. But there was a familiar sensation slowly rising in your body that hadn’t at all come from the alcoholic drinks you were having tonight. 

“Hmmm…You think so?”

A deep, sultry voice spoke as a pair of hot lips made their way down the side of your neck, tracing your skin with delicate kisses that made it even harder for you to think straight. 

Shivers ran down your body. Heat rolled through your chest. And it almost seemed to you that your skin was becoming even more sensitive to the touch when even the most subtle caress of his fingers was able to light up your senses. 

Right after the voice spoke to you, he suddenly switched and started kissing his way up. You blinked, and his face came into view just as he looked down at you. The beautiful face that captivated you when you first met him at the bar was presented right before your eyes. 

So close. So tempting. And his eyes were so intense that you nearly lost your breath. He smiled and leaned down, capturing your lips with a kiss. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your lips, drawing another moan out of you which snapped you from your daze. 

You sighed as you gave in to the chaste kiss he was giving you. “It’s kind of hard to look around and see anything when you have me pinned to the door.” 

He let out a soft chuckle and once again pressed his lips on yours. As if he was both pleased and amused that he got to put you in this position. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes softened. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s all your fault for teasing me all the way here while I couldn’t allow myself to touch you with so many eyes paying attention,” he said without any hint of regret in his voice. 

“Well, forgive me because I wasn’t aware,” you taunted him back, knowing fully well what you had done to tease him until he was on the verge of breaking apart even before you reached his hotel suite. 

As much as you wanted to hold back, you were quite sure that you hadn’t gotten things wrong. You couldn’t have possibly mistaken the chemistry that kept sparking between you. And the way he kept openly staring at your body was enough to make his intention clear, as his eyes seemed more honest than the words he gave you. 

But back at the bar, you had let him be the first one to make the move. 

With his sturdy hands, he was the one who pulled your seat closer. By placing his arm on your backrest, it may have seemed as if he was marking his territory for anyone else at the hotel bar to see. Normally, something like this would’ve put you off. But there was something in the way he did it that made you feel otherwise, allowing you to give in and lean more into his warmth instead of pushing him away. 

That was when you reciprocated his actions with your own. The light and subtle touches of your fingers on his arm drew soft shudders through his body. The accidental brushes that happened when you moved against his body pushed him into wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close before he finally pulled you out of the bar. 

When you leaned close enough to whisper softly against his ear, you could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, his heartbeat escalating under your palm, and he could barely hold himself back from devouring your lips right there at the hotel lobby. Right where everyone could see you falling into pieces under your sinful desire.

By the time you were alone with him in the elevator, the tension between you just kept escalating until he finally snapped. 

He nearly dragged you across the hallway leading to his bedroom suite in his rush to get you alone. The moment he pulled you in through the door, every bit of his composure simply left him. He barely gave you a chance to catch a single glance of the suite, as he immediately pushed your body against the door and kept you there. 

Until this moment. 

His eyes grew dark after listening to your answer. His breath is still ragged after the hot kiss that he gave you once he got you pinned between his hard body and the locked door behind you. 

With his broad chest locking you in place, his hips pressing against your lower body, he left you with nowhere else to go. But this didn’t seem to be enough for him. Looking into his eyes, you could tell that he needed to see you become even more vulnerable. Almost as if he wanted to punish you for putting him on the edge. 

And he did exactly that as he slipped one hand around your neck and pulled your hair, tilting your head back so that he could continue exploring the column of your throat with his sinful lips. Instead of resisting it, you simply gave in. Arching your back to him further as he trailed kisses on your skin, your hands clutching on his jacket to hold on. 

He used his other hand to explore the rest of your body. Starting from your waist, he continued to move further down to your hips. Tracing every curve, every dent along your body with his firm fingers pressing through your thin dress. 

Just as he was about to reach the hem of your dress, he suddenly stopped and pulled back. 

“Tell me again. Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was quiet when he asked you this. It sounded as though he was caught between convincing himself that this was happening while giving you an out for one last time before getting too deep. 

But you had gone deep. 

And you knew then that the moment you let everything happen, there was no going back from it. Everything about this was new to you; hooking up with a complete stranger while you were in the middle of nowhere, and knowing that once the night was over, both of you were going to move on with your lives. 

It felt thrilling to think about it, and the liquid courage should help you in letting go of your inhibitions. Yet you couldn’t deny the fact that you are feeling slightly nervous about jumping fully into this. 

When you failed to answer him, Tae leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss right below your ear and whispered, “Well? Talk to me. Because there is no going back from this once we begin, and I won’t let you go until you tell me what you want.” 

The way his breath tickled your ear and caressed your skin broke you out of the walls you put up. Every flicker of doubt you felt immediately melted. You brushed against him, allowing him to feel every bit of heat coursing through your body before you answered with a whisper, “Yes. I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.” 

You could feel the way his breath was caught as you pressed your palm on his chest. Pressing against him, you raised yourself up and nipped his chin with your teeth. 

“This is what I want.” 

You weren’t completely sure if you ever got to finish your sentence when all of a sudden, his lips came crashing into yours, pressing firmly as he kissed you, barely concealing his desire for more. 

The kiss unleashed your own desire. You opened your mouth for him in return, allowing him to devour you, to have a taste of your demands as he thoroughly kissed you until you were left breathless in his arms. 

His hand began to move again just then. Tracing down your hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers harder into your flesh. He made it seem as if your dress had melted into your skin with the heat of his touch that you felt completely exposed to him. And he didn’t stop until he finally found the exposed skin of your thigh. 

Your body quivered upon contact, and you could tell that he felt it too. He began stroking your skin, moving at a slow, agonising pace just to put you on the edge. 

And he easily succeeded. Already, you could barely breathe, even when he was still far from touching any part of your body that needed him the most. 

Overcame with need, your body started moving on instinct. As if his touches were controlling you as you lifted your thigh for him. His grip on your thigh tightened, helping you to keep your leg up and open yourself to him while his kiss became sloppy yet gentle as he released his hold on your hair. 

He moved his other hand down, brushing against your covered breast with a brief contact and continued trailing down. You felt him pressing at your hips, before pulling the hem of your dress upward until your lower region was completely exposed. His hand continued its travel as it climbed up your inner thigh. So you opened your legs to give him better access. A move which he appreciated with a deep hum, before you felt his thumb brushing up just an inch away from your throbbing core. 

“Should we move this someplace else? Somewhere that would be more comfortable for us?” he asked you with his lips hovering close to yours. 

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Too lost in the sensation that you were made to feel, you felt as if you were drunk and high, not from the alcohol that was no longer running wildly through your veins, but from his entire presence alone. 

All thoughts faded further as his thumb grazed across the front of your panties, finding your folds through the fabric before he pressed down, enough to give pressure on your covered clit. Sparks flew through your half-lidded eyes as pleasure came rushing through you in waves. You couldn’t stop the moan slipping out of your lips, nor the way your hips rocked into his touch to feel more. 

“So responsive,” he murmured against your neck before he planted a light kiss on your skin. “I would have loved to watch and enjoy every reaction that you would give me, every sound you make, while I have you lie down on my bed and fuck you senseless.” 

Your breath hitched and caught in your chest. Not only because of his words, but also from the way his thumb continued to rub against your covered clit. It felt sinful, yet so delectable the way he kept drawing more and more sparks and shuddering pleasure through your body.

After being deprived of such attention for quite some time, your body became more sensitive to every friction, every treatment he was giving you, and you simply wanted more. 

“Then take me there. Take me to your bed.” 

As if you had flicked a switch in his brain, his expression changed. His gaze darkened as he captured your lips with unrestrained need, yet he was careful when he picked you up, pressing you against his chest when he turned and moved to take you away from the door.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him for balance, while your lips remained locked in a deep kiss. You could feel his long stride as he began carrying you across the room. His kiss and his firm hold on your bottom cheeks were enough to draw your attention away from his clumsy footsteps, but not enough to deny you from sensing the changes happening around you.

The scent of his cologne grew thicker as he went deeper into the room, and you were getting more and more lost in him. Drowned in his heat, his kiss, and the traces that he had left behind all over his bedroom, you felt him everywhere all at once that you felt like you were being put under a spell. 

All so suddenly, you were pulled out of it when he broke away from the kiss. He laid you gently over the cold white sheets of his partly-made bed. Instead of joining you right away, he chose to pull back. His eyes seemed to glint in the dimly lit room as he took this moment to take you in. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, drawing heat back to your face. 

He kept his eyes on you as he shrugged off his jacket and began peeling his shirt from his chest. Desire pulsed through your body as you watched every move he was making without ever drawing his attention away from you. 

The more you watched him, the stronger the pull that you felt towards him. Once the need to touch him took over, you reached up and tugged on his pants, hoping that you could quickly shred them off of his body. 

You barely grazed against his covered hard-on when he stopped you by catching your wrists. Like a disappointed teacher, he made a disapproval sound with his tongue. 

“Patience, Red,” he teasingly said to you as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it off of you with one swift move. You fell back to the bed with a gasp, shocked to see how easy it was for him to take over until you were left with nothing more but your lacy underthings. 

The intensity you felt from his gaze made you want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But being half inebriated was making you slow in thoughts and movement that you couldn’t do anything but lay still. At the same time, you enjoyed the way he was looking at you, loving how he was losing himself to you the same way you did to him. 

But it was the words that he said next that further brought out your wanton needs.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I want you to stay just like this,” he said with a murmur while his eyes ran down your body, “I want you to lie on your back while you are screaming out my name.” 

If only you hadn’t been so lost for words, perhaps you would have challenged him in return. Instead, by the time every piece of his clothing was gone, you felt like you had melted further into the sheets. The raw passion you saw in his gaze and the way he was tracing his fingertips on your skin had locked you completely in place, leaving you with no other option but to surrender as he took control.

He bent down, his lips came down to your neck. Planting his kisses on your skin, he kept your attention away from his hands as he snapped off your bra and went down to pull your panties down your hips. As he dragged your panties down your bare legs, he continued his kisses further down, not stopping until he reached your heaving chest. 

You couldn’t even remember what happened to that flimsy piece of fabric that he took from you. Everything else faded as his tongue grazed across your chest, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His firm hands returned to your hips right then, holding you down while he captured your taut nipple between his teeth. 

The feeling that coursed through you was heavenly. A shooting pain came with a flare as he bit down, yet it was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure when he lapped the pain away with his sinful tongue. 

“Tae—”

His body quivered against yours at the sound of your voice. He pulled away with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you arching your chest as if you were chasing him. 

He ran his gaze down your body. Perusing you while silently admiring what he was seeing while he licked his lips. As if he was picturing the way you would taste. 

“Tell me how badly you want this, Red,” he taunted you with his hand reaching out to the nightstand. You vaguely saw him grabbing a condom while you were struggling to breathe. Your eyes fell on his exposed, throbbing cock, and words simply left you. 

Seeing its impressive size and girth, your entire body erupted with a pulse. It started from deep inside your core, right where you wanted to feel him the most. Astonished, you failed to remember that he was still waiting for your answer with his eyes locked on your face. 

And he made you struggle further to find words when he reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and started giving himself slow, lazy strokes. You could see the bead of his pre-cum glistening under the dim lighting. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning forward and lapping him dry. To have a taste, before you let him devour every drop of your essence. 

“Red? Talk to me,” he spoke to you again with a curious tone in his voice. 

He knew that he wasn’t getting any attention, as your eyes were locked only at one place that was not his face, and he seemed to be curious to know what was making you so lost in thoughts. 

Instead of answering him, you continued to watch, completely transfixed by his actions, as he slowly spread his pre-cum along the length of his cock. You licked your lips, almost as if you could taste him. A barely concealed whimper slipped out of your lips when you watched him slowly roll the condom to cover himself from the tip of his cock and down to the base. 

Seeing him covered with protection seemed to snap you back to the present. Even if your pulsing need still refused to tame down. 

Resting back against the pillows, you dragged your eyes away from his impressive cock to his beautiful face. 

“I want you here. Inside me,” you finally responded to his question. Placing your palms on the underside of your thighs, you parted your legs open, making him see the mess that had been building up right between your legs while you were enjoying the show he was giving you. 

Now it was your turn to give him a show. 

Reaching between your legs, you moved your fingers to find your folds. You bit back a gasp once the tips of your fingers were met with your wet arousal. It felt slick as you moved your fingers around, parting your nether lips so he could see your swollen clit, before you moved your fingers in circles, pressing at yourself the exact same way you wished he would. 

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.” 

His pupils dilated at the sound of your voice, at the pleading words you were giving him. You loved the way he was reacting to you just as much as he did with you, yet you decided to push his buttons further by adding, “And then I want to hear you scream my name while you cum inside me.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “What a little brat,” he said, chuckling. “So you like to play games, hmmm?” 

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to come out when your touch inadvertently pushed against the source of your heat. “Oh, I do. Games are always fun.” 

While he continued stroking his cock at a lazy pace, he used the other hand to grab your neck. His palm fit perfectly as he wrapped it around the column of your throat, putting pressure that was not enough to choke you, yet enough to show you who was in control. 

“Then let’s play,” he groaned while he pressed you back down on the bed. “But this time, I make the rules.” 

You felt the electrifying pleasure surging through your body as he brushed your hand away and lined himself against your entrance, shutting down the circuits inside your brain for a moment and stopping you from wiggling too much beneath him just to feel more friction. 

A sharp moan was drawn from your lips as Tae slammed his full length deep inside you. The sensation that you felt from being filled by his width was so feral and explosive that you were sure you immediately experienced your orgasm right then and there. 

Your body must have been shaking, which was a response that you failed to notice as you had your senses filled with the steady pulse of pleasure pressing across the girth of his cock. He must have noticed it when he came to a halt, giving you a chance to process everything and adjust to his presence inside you.

Nothing made sense to you beyond the pulsing pleasure that you felt from your hot pussy. Your senses were filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat, the soothing touch of his fingers on your skin, and the whispers of his voice calling you back to him. 

He only managed to bring you back to the present by pressing gentle kisses on your lips, nose, and then on the rest of your face, stopping only after he kissed your lips again to draw your attention back to him. 

Your legs were quivering when you opened your eyes to see him, yet you could already tell from the way the pulses that came right where you were joined started to settle, that your body had adjusted perfectly to his size. 

But it didn’t mean that you would simply take it without sharing your thoughts. 

“You’re—big,” you complained with a soft moan when you felt him growing harder inside you. It didn’t stop you from rocking your hips, trying to feel more friction, while he merely chuckled at your words. 

“And it’s perfect for your tight pussy.” 

His words drew a gasp from you. But he didn’t pay much attention to it, as he slowly began to move. He started with a slow pace, which was torturous and agonising, forcing you to feel the delectable way his girth was brushing against your pulsing walls. 

Back and forth he went, going so deep you could almost feel him pressing up your stomach before pulling out until only the tip was buried inside you. He kept moving at the same pace, until you began to feel more desperate. Even your body was shaking with the need to feel more. 

“More—!” you whispered with a strangled moan, “go faster.” 

Hearing this, instead of doing what you were begging him to, Tae denied your plea by doing the opposite. With a wicked grin on his face, the fucker slowed down, bringing the pleasure that had been rising back down a notch. 

You opened your mouth to protest against it, and he moved his hands down your hips, stopping at your thighs where he gave you a tight grip. 

“You want more?” he asked you, his voice almost seemed to grow deeper, and you could feel a tinge of danger when he spoke. The same danger you saw coming through his gaze as he slowly brought your legs up. 

You expected him to stop once he got your legs up his shoulders. But he just kept going. And going. Until you were nearly folded with your legs almost pressed to your chest.

“Tae—!” 

It made you feel vulnerable, with nothing but your hands to use to hold on while he had full control of your body. He was still buried inside you, and this position allowed you to feel him more. As though you had grown tighter around him and he was growing bigger. His entire length and width made you feel full, as his cock was pressing tightly against your hot walls. 

“You wanted more,” he murmured as he began moving, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, going in and out of you, drawing more and more of that shuddering pleasure out of your body as he continued fucking you gently. “I’m giving you more.” 

He began increasing his pace. Going faster the more he heard you moaning in pleasure. “Lift your arms, Red. Bring them up and hold the pillows.” 

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. Your hands had been clutching tightly on his forearms and it was a struggle to let go. And he waited, tormenting you by keeping his pace much too slow to your liking until you followed his command. 

Your hands trembled as you unlatched them from his skin. You could barely feel your fingers as you dragged your hands up, as every part of your body grew more sensitive the more you opened your entire self to him. Keeping your eyes on him, you got lost in his intense gaze. 

It was then when you finally came in contact with the soft pillows above your head, and your fingers easily sank into them, latching onto them as you did when you were holding onto his arms.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmured gently, and you were pleasantly surprised to realise how much you loved hearing his praise. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and it easily made its way down right to your core. “Now hold on tightly and don’t let go.” 

And you did just that. Holding on tightly the way he wanted you to. 

Only once he gained complete control of your body, once you fully submitted to him, he finally fulfilled your wish. He held firmly on your thighs to keep them folded and open for him, and he began ramming his cock deep inside you. 

He was doing it faster. Harder. Sending you high in pleasure while all you could do was take his constant pounding. The only leverage you had to hold on was the tight hold you had on the pillows and the weight of his body that was pressing you down each time he pushed deeply inside you. 

The anomalous sounds coming out of both of your lips kept bouncing off the walls. Followed by the sound of flesh clashing against flesh, the slick sounds that came from right where you were joined, and the creaking sound of the bed beneath you. 

He kept going, relentless in his rough thrusts and his need to push you over the edge, until you could feel the rise of your orgasm coming in waves. The wanton pleasure that was hot and intense came rising inside you, growing rapidly with his deep thrusts until you finally succumbed to it, coming into your climax with a scream. 

“Tae, I’m coming,” you cried out to him as you fell over the edge, though you weren’t completely sure if the words coming out of your lips were as coherent as you thought they would have been. 

The sound of your pounding heartbeat seemed to drown everything away. Except that you could still hear the sound of his breathless grunts as they grew clearer, and the strangled moan that came out of him when he shouted, “That’s it, Red. Fuck, I’m coming!”

With a sharp intake of breath, he came to his climax. You felt every pulse of his release as he came inside you, and the tremble in his chest that surged through him with his deep groan as he relished the pleasure. Even after his release, he kept moving, rocking slowly and steadily until the spasms of your orgasm slowly began to wane down. 

He remained buried inside you when he gently released you from his hold. You could barely feel his lips pressing on your quivering thighs before he lowered them back on the mattress, yet his gentle fingers remained hot on your skin when he brushed up against you. 

He reached up and gently pried your fingers away from the pillows before slipping his fingers between yours. The way your fingers were entwined together felt so intimate. So unlike anything that you had ever thought about what a one-night stand would entail. 

Your body felt hot, and your muscles were lax, but there was a series of small spasms still going strong from deep inside you, coaxed by his incessant rocking. You should have been pushing him off of you, instead of embracing his weight as he lowered himself, covering your body with his own. 

“Tae—” you whimpered against his lips as he kissed you. Holding your hands in his, he continued to rock his hips. 

How he managed to remain so hard and stiff even after his climax was beyond you. He still felt thick as he moved. His cock brushed against your pulsing walls as he went in and out, awakening all sparks of pleasure that were supposed to have dwindled. 

And with how sensitive your body was, it rose and peaked so quickly and you had no power to stop it. 

“Too…much…” you cried between the strangled moans coming out of your lips, right before he swallowed them with another kiss. 

“One more,” he groaned as he picked up his pace. “Just do it one more time for me, Red.” 

You were so sensitive it was beginning to hurt, but the pleasure was also maddening that you didn’t want to stop. This time, he wasn’t holding you down so strongly, allowing you to move beneath him. So you rocked back against him, pushing up each time he was thrusting into you. It only took a couple of more strokes before the coil in your core snapped, and you were sent to another climax. 

And he joined you in your release, falling into a smaller climax of his own as you clenched tightly around him. 

He came with a deep groan. His whole body quaked against you before he finally fell on top of you. While you were trying to control your breath, his lips came brushing your neck, kissing you gently to help soothe down the shudders running through your body.

“Fuck…so perfect,” he sighed between his kisses, his voice came in and out through your senses, and the sparks you felt rushing through your body started waning as you were slowly drifting away into the night, with his words echoing in your dreams,

“You are perfect.” 

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading so far. Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. The story continues in part 2.

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

© All rights reserved. 2024 Yoonia — Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited.