#was bored so this is what i came up with ^^;

[rooksamoris]

FREE MEALS AND MARRIAGE PROPOSALS !!

💞 — in which y'all fake a marriage proposal for free food at some fancy restaurant. 💞 — featuring; jamil viper, floyd leech, lilia vanrouge, ruggie bucchi, ace trappola, che'nya pinker, epel felmier, deuce spade, rook hunt, jade leech. 💞 — gender neutral reader. 300-400 words each. warnings: cursing and embarrassment. here's a link to the jamil solo song analysis i made because im shameless and wrote 4k words on that so it cant flop or i'd die.

JAMIL VIPER.

“No, don’t you dare.”

“Come on, Jamil—it’s a free meal.”

“I don’t care. It’s embarrassing. Hey, sit dow—” 

Before he could even finish his sentence, you were down on one knee, giving him a cheeky grin before shutting your eyes and holding up a little ring box with a fake silver ring. It sat there in a plush velvet pillow, shimmering at Jamil with mischief. It felt like things were going in slow motion, people had begun to turn and look at the two of you. His cheeks and ears began to heat up and he desperately wanted to hurl you over his shoulder and just leave the damn restaurant. 

“Jamil, in the time that I’ve had to get to know you, I have met a wonderfully talented but complex individual with so much to offer the world,” you said, looking up at him with that same cheeky look, but something in your eyes hoped to convey that the words you said were true, “I would be honored if you allowed me to uncover more of your secrets for the rest of our lives, together. Will you marry me?”

Oh, Jamil was embarrassed. He tried not to glare at you, because he did think your words were sweet. His heart skipped a beat at the thought that someone saw him at his complete worst, when ink had blotted his soul, corrupting his being and manifesting into a cruel phantom, and still would want to be with him. He frowned and glanced off to the side, “Yes… hayati.”

You grinned. One free dessert later, you were walking back to campus with Jamil, giggling on and on about his reaction while he hid his expression behind his hood, “Oh, shut it.”

“Aww, they even got a picture of us! Look,” you laughed, holding your phone up.

He grumbled under his breath, pushing your phone away.

FLOYD LEECH.

Listen, Floyd was just getting bored of sitting and just talking over the meal. Sure, it was a nice place, but what use was a nice place if he felt like there were bugs crawling under his skin since he was sitting, well-behaved, for so long. He frowned at you before looking over the dessert menu, not really reading anything until he came to the advert. 

Ah. Apparently, it was a free dessert to whoever proposed in the restaurant. They would have their pictures taken and everything since it was good PR or something like that. There it was, the cure to his boredom, the scratcher for his itch.

A sudden smile came to Floyd's lips and you were immediately suspicious of him. Your brows knitted softly, but before you could speak, he was pulling one of his rings off of his finger and standing from his seat. He grabbed your arm and pulled you up before taking your hand and forcing the ring onto your finger. 

You gawked at him, “Floyd, what the—?”

“Let’s get married, Shrimpy,” he said, but there was a little threat in his eyes as he loomed over you, intertwining your fingers.

“Wa–wait a minute—”

“We can have a beach wedding. And I can take you swimming,” he drawled and laughed. It was clear whatever he was thinking about was not very… safe.

Before you could even answer, people were applauding and there were camera flashes. Some waiter brought out a stack of specialty desserts and placed them on the table. Everyone seemed so happy and you were just dumbfounded. You blinked at the flashes and looked around, lost, at all the cheers. Oh, goodness. You did not even pose for the pictures at all, and you were more than sure they were unflattering. 

Floyd leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear, “Smile,” he laughed, holding your hand out with the ring for another picture.

The dessert was delicious.

LILIA VANROUGE.

“So… when are you gonna propose?”

“Hmm? Oh, darling. You’re going to be the one proposing. I was practicing my cute, ‘a thousand times yes’ reaction in preparation.”

Your eyes widened. You and Lilia had talked about this deal happening at a restaurant near the campus, and you agreed to go out and get a free meal through a marriage proposal. You had assumed Lilia would be the one proposing, you know, being the centuries old fae who fought in some of the bloodiest battles and helped raise a prince. He was leaps more experienced than you and you would not have been surprised to find out if he was already married at some point, all those years ago. 

You looked at the clock. They would be closing soon, and from the evil little smile on the fae's face, you could tell that you were the one who would have to propose. You frowned and stood from your seat, getting down on one knee. There was a gasp in the crowd and you nearly rolled your eyes.

“Uhm… I’m sure many have been in the position that I am in right now, but I wish to make my devotion to you clear,” you began, “I wish for nothing more than the chance to spend the rest of my life with you. I… uhm… will you marry me, Lilia?”

Lilia let out a soft gasp, bringing his hands up to his mouth as his eyes widened in faux surprise, “Oh, a thousand times yes. I would be the happiest man to marry you,” he said and then he wrapped his arms around you while you stood. Once he let go, he looked at the crowd that gathered and smiled at them, “You are all invited to our wedding!”

“Lilia!?”

“What, beloved? One must share their joy, for it grows, hehe.”

He gleefully sat back down with you once the dessert arrived, dedicating the rest of his night to flustering you while he reaped the reward of your embarrassment. Lilia was more than glad to share the pictures with Silver.

RUGGIE BUCCHI.

Ultimately, this whole thing was Ruggie's idea. He came to you with an advertisement in hand, asking you to pretend to accept his marriage proposal at some fancy restaurant he was sure he would be kicked out of on any other day. He asked you because he knew you agree, considering your living conditions in Ramshackle.

This was not the type of place Ruggie felt at home in. He mended his finest clothes just to come here with you, for the sake of a free meal. He was shameless, but he knew when he was not welcome somewhere and he certainly was not welcome here. Of course, that would not matter at all. He came for a free meal and he was going to get that free meal. He sent you a nod, the code that he was about to lower himself and pretend to lay his heart out to you. 

Ruggie got down onto his knee with his usual mischievous smile, tilting his head to the side as he tugged your hand close to him. It was almost romantic the way his pale blue eyes met yours. He looked nice like this, his hair slicked back, his clothes clean and freshly ironed. From a distance, you could not even see the way he had to hem the sleeves and the pant legs to fit him. 

“I can’t give you much, you know. You’ll probably have to work hard with me to get by, and I’m sure we won’t be doing fancy dates like this all the time, but I would do my best to keep you smiling and laughing,” he started, intertwining your fingers, “So, will you marry me?”

You smiled and nodded, “Of course, Ruggie.”

Only after the proposal, when you both were outside with your to-go box did you really think about how entertained everyone was by the proposal. You could have sworn someone had made a comment in the background about how love was more than money or something stupid like that. All while affording their own meals in a restaurant like that, where you and Ruggie had to perform for your attendance.

“Shishishi, you're always thinking too much,” Ruggie said, pulling you from your thoughts, “We got the food. Whatever they think doesn’t matter.”

ACE TRAPPOLA. 

You and Ace had actually planned this beforehand. Come on, you guys are two broke students attending Night Raven College, ordering a meal cost the same as a textbook. When Ace had seen the posting about this restaurant's offer to give free desserts to anyone who proposed there, he was all over it, rushing to your rundown dorm and sharing it with you. After an hour long debrief about how to make it all believable, you dressed up and left. 

Now that you were sitting across from one another, you both had cold feet. It was embarrassing, all these people... turning to stare as you proposed... ugh.

“I thought you were gonna do it already,”

“Shut up, why don’t you do it?”

“It was your idea, Ace.”

He frowned, pouted, even, before glancing down at the dessert at the table. He really did not want to split the bill for this. He sighed before rubbing the back of his neck, “Fine, but you’re giving me the answers on that test,” he grumbled.

Ace pulled out the random little decorative box you guys found to make this look more real. There was not a ring inside of it, neither of you could find anything that would look real enough and neither of you could afford a ring. He got down onto one knee, a flush covering his pale cheeks, matching his hair, “Listen… I know I’m a jerk. I say mean stuff and I don't apologize on time. I get you caught up in all sorts of trouble, but I can’t imagine doing all that alone. Without you. I will annoy you, and I will make you mad, but I would be the luckiest guy ever if you married me.”

Why the fuck did your heart skip a beat at all that? You looked into his eyes before nodding, “U–Uhm, yeah— yes.”

Once you guys left, a to-go box and free dessert in hand, Ace reached over to pinch your cheek, “You were blushing,” he teased.

“Shut up or I’m gonna eat these pastries without you.”

CHE’NYA PINKER.

You had brought the idea up to Che'nya, a fake proposal for some free food and he was more than down for it. In fact, he dressed in his finest and tried to stay on his best behavior till the day of. It was suspicious, and you were sure he had to have been planning something... the day came, and you reminded him what you agreed on, a quick 'will you marry me?' and a 'yes' and then boom, free food. 

But, before you knew it, you were drinking your fruit cordial when you heard a little clink. You looked down at the cup and saw a little ring. Before you could react, cameramen appeared and a live band showed up, playing some romantic classic. 

This bitch ass cat. He just had to push the glass of the table when you told him not to.

He gazed at you with a cheshire grin before disappearing and then reappearing before you, on his knees. Holding your hands up to his lips for a kiss.

“When my mind is tangled up yarn, you pull it apart and weave the greatest blankets to keep us warm,” he said, smoothing his thumbs over the back of your hand, “Haste makes waste, but if I do not hurry now, someone else may take your hand before me, and the divine know I could use your helping hand. My two are great, but I could use these extra ones of yours. So, what do you say? Tie the knot?” 

You were glaring down at him, but it just made him more gleeful. But then you sighed, “Fine… uh— I meant, yes.”

The music ended with a flourish and applause while the waitress brought your free desserts. Once you guys were heading out, Che’nya could tell you were livid, but still leaned on you as you walked. Now he had a great video of you floundering during his fake proposal.

“Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker.”

“Ooh, you sound purr-fect when you’re mad. Still, you should be nicer to your fiance,” he giggled.

DEUCE SPADE.

This whole situation was your idea, but Deuce, ever the gentleman, decided he would be the one to propose to you for this whole scheme. Ultimately, he owes you for helping him study, getting between him and Riddle during the tumultuous first part of the year, and saving him from getting in trouble by vouching for his character. 

You always said it was what friends were for, but he still believed he owed you. 

Deuce was flustered beyond belief, his brows furrowed while he looked up at you. He had been in this position before a few times, lowering himself to tie your laces so you did not trip and fall, or when he bent down to pick something up for you because if he was anything, it was thoughtful. But this was so different. He was asking you to marry him... for a free dessert, sure, but it was a proposal nonetheless.

“I know I’m not… super romantic or anything. Honestly, I’m clueless about this whole thing,” he mumbled. His pretty green eyes were nervous, but there was a determination there as well. It almost looked real, the way he was laying his heart out to you, telling you about his flaws while asking you to spend the rest of your life together. Albeit for a free meal, of course, “But I know one thing for sure. I want to marry you and be together for the rest of our lives. I’ll mess up sometimes, but I promise to try and fix things. Will you marry me?”

It was all so sweet you nearly forgot to answer before nodding quickly, “Yes, of course, yes,” you said.

Deuce sighed in relief, like he was seriously proposing and stood back up as the free meal was brought out. He tried to spend the rest of the date talking to you like normal, but he could not stop the racing of his heart whenever the image of you looking surprised, lips parted and eyes wide, came to his mind.

“Still flustered, Deuce?”

His cheeks were pink and he just looked away from you, mumbling something about how it was all worth it.

EPEL FELMIER.

“Hah!? No way, I’m proposing first,” he hissed at you, his lilac brows knitted as he slammed his hands onto the table.

You shook your head, “I made this plan up, so you should let me propose.”

“Yeah, well I won’t look manly getting proposed to, so let me do it.”

That annoyed you. You held up a little violet velvet box. 

The ring and the ring box were from Vil, a gift he got you a while ago for your help with the VDC. A token of his appreciation which would now be used to propose to the student under his watch, within his greatly esteemed dorm. The sight of it just irritated Epel further. 

Epel shook his head stubbornly and then stood up so quickly that the chair fell down behind, capturing the eyes of everyone in the room. He snatched the ring box from your hand and then got down on one knee, frowning with pure determination. His wide teal eyes were beautiful as ever, but filled with a fire you often saw when he got extra stubborn. He held the box up to you with his dainty looking hands, but you could look deep enough to see the calluses from carrying heavy apple baskets.

“Will you marry me? I promise to protect you from everyone and provide you with a very comfortable life. I swear on my great great grandmother’s apple orchard. I’ll personally cut down the trees with my bare hands if I disappoint you! So— so marry me!” he blurted out. Once the words left his lips, the blush settled over his chubby cheeks.

Your heart raced a little bit and then you managed a little nod, “Yes— I’ll marry you,” you said, quickly before anyone could see through the act.

Once you guys had your desserts and left, your mind drifted back to his words. Epel, on the other hand, had a hand on his stomach, patting it, stuffed with sugary goodness and satisfied.

ROOK HUNT. 

Rook was someone who could have just paid for the dessert. Honestly, it was no skin off of his back, and as Le Chasseur d'Amour, it meant little when it came to the mission of romance... but, proposing was enticing. Even if it was for just a moment to get a free treat, it would make for a greatly romantic spectacle, and theatrical was his middle name. 

His piercing green eyes drifted over the advertisement a few times, and you noticed it. He caught your gaze and then stood. Sevens, drag him back into his seat before he— “Rook, please don’t—”

“Ah, mon cœur! My heart has been shot by the deity of love!” he exclaimed, dramatically placing a hand onto his forehead, before bowing.

People had flinched in their seats at how loud his voice was. Rook had expertly captured his audience into his trap and now it was time for the skillful hunter to go in for the kill. He spared them little attention as his gaze met your flushed face again. 

Gently, he took your hand into his own and brought it up to his lips, pressing a princely kiss to your knuckles before he knelt down, pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, “Le Chasseur d’Amour has been captured by you, and it would be my honor to spend the rest of my days admiring your beauty. Allow me the honor of joining you in matrimony, binding our very beings to one another, so even as our bodies decay, they may rest beside one another.”

He let go of your hand to reach for a ring box in his breast pocket, gazing at you with what looked like pure love, “Marry me and I will devote myself to your joy.”

You covered your face and just nodded.

“Ah! My heart bursts with color—”

“Rook, please sit. I’m begging you!”

JADE LEECH.

“Oh no… I don’t seem to have enough for dessert. Whatever shall we do?”

He feigned an upset expression, his brows knitted softly, a little frown on his lips as he shut his eyes, a sigh of resignation falling from mouth. There was even a convincing little slouch in his shoulder, but you knew better than to believe any of it. 

You looked down at the little laminated paper on the table and it hit you. He did not invite you out because he wanted to hang out, he invited you out to embarrass you. Jade was the mad scientist and you were the experiment. He used sharp tweezers to pluck out reactions from you, moving you from vial to vial to see your reaction. 

You frowned, “Jade, you asshole.”

His expression shifted. He grinned, but it was far from sweet or innocent. He stood from his seat, making sure it made enough noise to draw eyes to the two of you, before gracefully getting down onto one knee, holding up a shimmering velvet box up to you, his free hand against his chest, “In the many years I have know you,” you were barely completing your first year since meeting him, “You have only surprised me with your nurturing spirit and your sweet reactions. I bring this ring, a token of my love, and humbly lower myself before you to ask if you will marry me,” he said, bowing his head for extra effect.

You heard someone mutter a ‘oh my, so sweet’ and you wanted to cringe. You looked down at Jade before sighing, “Yes,” you replied, less than pleased.

Jade stood, taking your hand and slowly sliding the ring onto your finger, letting you feel the cool metal against your skin, accompanied by the softness of his skin. He leaned down to your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek for the viewers, before whispering into your ear, “So, which dessert did you want?”

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

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[jellyfishsthings]

Interrupted Dates

navigation , dc navigation

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune 

Dick

The rooftop was aglow with fairy lights, strung haphazardly between a rusted chimney and a disused antenna. It gave the space a dreamy sort of charm—romantic if you squinted and ignored the faint smell of city smog.

You sat cross-legged on a blanket, sharing a plastic container of pasta salad with Dick. He was barefoot, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair ruffled by the breeze and the kind of smugly radiant that only came from retelling stories of childhood chaos.

“So then I yell, ‘Ta-da!’—naked, mind you—because I was four and thought I could fly,” Dick said, stabbing his fork into a piece of tomato like it had personally wronged him. “Bruce was mortified. Alfred just... nodded, like he’d seen worse.”

You snorted into your drink. “How are you not traumatized?”

“I am. But charmingly so.”

Meanwhile, twelve feet below, chaos brewed.

Behind a nearby billboard, a truly absurd stack of Batfamily members wobbled dangerously. Stephanie was on top, phone in hand and already live-streaming to a private group chat titled #OperationDickDates??!. Jason had the binoculars. Tim was beneath him, trying to triangulate audio with a dish he may or may not have stolen from the Batcave. Damian, at the bottom, bore the weight of them all with the bitter fury of a betrayed acrobat.

“This is a disgrace,” Damian hissed. “Grayson’s form is off. His landing on the blanket was a ten-degree deviation from optimal angle.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Tim whispered. “Not the fact that we’re spying on our grown brother having a date like we’re the Scooby-Doo gang on meth?”

Stephanie shushed them. “Shut up, I think she’s laughing. That’s like, third laugh. Fourth laugh is when I declare it true love.”

Jason adjusted the focus on his binoculars. “Is she feeding him? Bro. She just fed him a tomato. That’s a couple move. This is disgusting.”

“Why are you even here?” Damian growled.

“I was promised chaos and snacks. So far, I have neither.”

Above, Dick paused, brows knitting. “Do you… hear whispering?”

You tilted your head. “Maybe it’s wind?”

“No, that’s definitely someone whispering ‘move your elbow, I can’t see his dumb face.’” He squinted into the shadows. “Give me a sec.”

In one effortless flip, he vanished into the dark like some sort of spandex-clad raccoon. A loud yelp followed.

Moments later, Dick returned, dragging Jason Todd by the back of his leather jacket like a particularly mouthy duffel bag.

Jason looked entirely unrepentant. “Hi. Love what you’ve done with the vibe. Very ‘Pinterest meets crime alley.’”

You sighed. “Hi, guys.”

Stephanie popped up like an excited meerkat. “Hi! You’re really pretty, by the way.”

Tim climbed over next, holding what looked like a home-wired parabolic mic. “Please don’t hate us. I had nothing to do with this. Except the part where I helped rig the surveillance array.”

Damian dropped from the billboard last, landing in a perfect crouch. “This entire endeavor was idiotic. But I recorded Grayson’s subpar trapeze flip for future blackmail purposes.”

You blinked. “Wait—how long have you all been watching?”

Jason shrugged. “Since the pasta salad.”

Stephanie nodded. “She laughed four times. That’s how you know it’s real.”

Dick stared at all of them. “You built a totem pole. Behind a billboard. In a wind tunnel.”

Damian sniffed. “It was Tim’s idea.”

“Lies,” Tim said. “I organized it. There’s a difference.”

You glanced at Dick, who looked like he was oscillating between mild amusement and full-on big brother meltdown.

He sighed dramatically, then turned to you with a hand outstretched. “Would you care to join me in fleeing the scene of the crime?”

“With pleasure.”

As the two of you retreated—blanket in hand, pasta salad container tucked under your arm—you heard Stephanie whisper behind you:

“I’m giving this a nine out of ten. Docking one point for no kiss.”

Jason grunted. “Give it five minutes. They’re totally going to kiss on the next roof.”

 “So…should we… follow?” Tim whispered.

 “NO.”

Jason

You were tucked into the coziest corner of the bookstore café, the one with the overstuffed chair that made ominous creaking noises when you sat in it, but held firm like a trusted secret. The golden afternoon light pooled on the hardwood floor, catching the soft steam curling from your shared cappuccino. Jason sat beside you, strangely gentle today, his leather jacket shrugged off, sleeves rolled, as he thumbed through a battered paperback of Pablo Neruda.

He cleared his throat—gruff, a little self-conscious—and then looked at you like you were the only real thing in the world.

“‘I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees,’” he read, voice low and slightly husky. Not quite polished—more like poetry scraped over gravel. Honest.

You smiled, fingers brushing his under the table, and he blinked like maybe he couldn’t believe he was allowed to have this—this calm, this softness, this weird, wonderful stillness.

Then—

“Is he blushing?” came a stage whisper from the bookshelf display to your right. You both froze.

From behind a rotating rack of pastel-covered romance novels, Dick and Tim peeked out, both wearing oversized, obviously fake glasses and pretending to browse.

Jason closed the book slowly.

Dick leaned sideways with all the stealth of a golden retriever trying to sneak a sandwich. “Look at him go. He’s quoting Neruda. Neruda, Tim. My angry cactus of a brother has feelings.”

“Do we have this on video?” Tim hissed, digging in his coat like he might’ve bugged the café.

Jason squinted. “Are they... wearing mustaches?”

Sure enough, both of them had slapped on wonky adhesive mustaches. Tim’s was starting to peel. Dick’s had migrated halfway up his cheek.

“They think they’re subtle,” you whispered.

Jason reached for the sugar packets, calmly selected one, then flicked his wrist like a sniper on a sugar-fueled vendetta. The packet arced cleanly over the romance display and smacked Tim right between the eyes.

“Ow!”

Dick choked on his latte.

Tim ducked behind the display, rubbing his forehead. “Did he just bean me mid-sonnet?”

You turned to Jason, impressed. “Did you seriously just assault your brother with sweetener while reading poetry?”

He grinned. “He deserved it.”

“Fair.”

From behind the shelf came Dick’s voice, unbothered and very much still spying. “Hey, we’re just trying to witness emotional growth.”

“And possibly blackmail material.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and called over his shoulder, “Get out before I start reading Yeats in a threatening tone.”

“Threatening Yeats?” Dick said. “You are in love.”

Tim emerged, dramatically clutching his sugar-packet injury. “This is how I die. Not in battle. Not in a tragic lab explosion. Murdered by Splenda™.”

“Get out,” Jason said, standing halfway. “Or I swear to God, I’ll recite sonnets until you sob.”

Dick raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, no need to traumatize the civilians.”

They backed out, knocking over a cardboard cutout of Jane Austen and leaving a half-eaten croissant on a poetry display. The barista glared. Someone in the back clapped.

When it was quiet again, Jason sat down with a long sigh and opened the book again. He didn’t look at you for a moment, just flipped a few pages like nothing had happened.

You leaned in, brushing his hair gently behind one ear. “You were blushing, by the way.”

He met your gaze, eyes warm and half-lidded, lips twitching. “Yeah, well... you’d blush too if you were reading love poems to someone you liked in front of two idiot brothers dressed like a community theater production of Sherlock Holmes.”

“True,” you admitted.

He found the page again, cleared his throat, and murmured, “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where…’”

And for once, no one interrupted.

(Not even when Dick and Tim snuck back disguised as a couple on a painfully awkward first date. But that’s another story.

Tim

  It was a clear night at Gotham’s old observatory—cold enough to see your breath, warm enough to be out without freezing, the kind of in-between that made you feel suspended in time. You were perched on a folding blanket with a thermos of hot chocolate between your knees, wrapped in one of Tim’s oversized hoodies, watching him fine-tune the telescope with all the reverence of someone handling a sacred artifact.

“This model’s based on the Cassegrain design,�� he murmured, adjusting the focus ring, eyes narrowed in concentration. “The mirrors inside reflect the image back to a focal point—it’s more efficient for deep-sky observation. Which is perfect because Orion’s Nebula is peaking tonight, and you can see the whole trapezium cluster if—”

He stopped, mid-ramble.

“Too much?”

You grinned, sipping the hot chocolate. “Never. I like when you go full-nerd.”

Tim flushed just a little, half-hiding his face behind the telescope. “Right. Well. You’ll see it better if you look around there—” He gently guided your hands. “—past Rigel. That’s the blue supergiant. It’s—”

“—Eight-hundred sixty light years away,” you finished.

He looked at you like he might die a little from fondness. “I think I love you.”

A crunch echoed above you.

You froze. Tim’s shoulders tensed. Another crunch. Muffled whispering. Something—or someone—was shifting behind the dome’s inner wall.

Tim sighed, not even looking up. “They’re watching.”

You tilted your head. “Should we invite them down?”

He shook his head solemnly. “No. Let them suffer in their self-inflicted cringe.”

Inside the observatory’s mechanical guts, Damian muttered, “You’re breathing too loudly.”

Cass responded by flicking him on the head.

Steph hissed, “I told you to bring snacks. You said popcorn was ‘too loud,’ and now look where we are. Starving. Cold. Emotionally invested.”

“I am not emotionally invested,” Damian said with the conviction of someone absolutely emotionally invested.

A beat.

“They’re holding hands,” Steph whispered. “Look. Right there. Hand. On. Knee.”

Cass’s voice: “Aww.”

Damian gagged audibly.

Tim adjusted the telescope again. “Bruce is here too.”

You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Tim just nodded toward the corner of the dome where, sure enough, Bruce stood in a trench coat and fedora like a noir film detective, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Possibly proud. Possibly plotting. Definitely out of place.

You whispered, “Why is he in a trench coat?”

Tim didn’t look up. “He thinks it’s ‘subtle.’”

Another creak. A hushed “Shhh!”

Five minutes passed in silence. Tim showed you the Andromeda Galaxy, soft-spoken and a little breathless as he described the gravitational pull between it and the Milky Way.

Then—

CRASH.

The trapdoor on the upper level flung open. Damian Wayne fell through it like a cat yeeted off a counter.

He hit the floor in a roll, popped up in a dramatic stance, and declared—very loudly—“That was intentional.”

Cass landed beside him a second later in a perfect superhero crouch. “We tripped.”

Damian hissed. “You tripped. I performed a tactical descent.”

Tim didn’t even blink. “Welcome. There’s cocoa in the thermos. Please keep the stalking to a minimum.”

Steph peeked her head down the ladder, grinning and holding her phone up. “I’ve been filming this whole time, by the way.”

Bruce descended the stairs silently like a disappointed cryptid.

You looked around at the chaos, then at Tim, who was now sitting with his head in his hands.

You gently patted his back. “You okay?”

“I was trying to explain redshift,” he muttered into his palms. “Now my little brother has announced his ‘tactical descent’ like he’s a D-list Avenger.”

From the floor, Damian snapped, “I heard that.”

Tim looked at you. “Please kill me.”

You offered him the cocoa instead.

“Same thing,” he mumbled.

Steph flopped onto the blanket beside you. “So... on a scale from one to tragically adorable, how serious is this?”

Cass stated calmly “Eleven.”

Damian made a face that would make the sun turn green as he stated that everything was disgusting. Bruce tried to argue that the kids were simply bonding, which resulted in Damian making yet another disgusted face at them.

You looked at Tim, smiling. “Want to get back to the stars?”

He nodded quickly, tugging you gently back toward the telescope, his hand slipping into yours like it belonged there. “Yes. Away from the goblins.”

“You love the goblins.”

Tim’s smile twitched. “No, I tolerate them. With... grudging affection.”

Behind you, Cass whispered, “He’s so in love.”

Steph whispered loudly  “Like... epic poem in love.”

“Please.”

Tim ignored them, realigned the telescope, and said softly, “Okay. Your turn. Let me show you something beautiful.”

And he did.

(The goblins mostly behaved. Until Damian tried to sabotage the cocoa supply. But that’s another story.)

Damian

It started with an invitation tucked beneath a hardcover book you’d left at the manor: On the Aesthetic History of Violence. Inside, in impossibly neat handwriting:

“You are cordially invited to a private tour of the Gotham Museum of Modern Art. After hours. Dress appropriately.”

Signed only: D.W.

You showed up in a black coat and clean boots. Damian arrived ten minutes early in a bespoke turtleneck and the kind of dark wool coat that whispered money and museum quiet. No cape, no scowl. Just a calm nod and a half smile when he saw you.

“You’re late,” he said, not unkindly.

“You’re early,” you countered.

His eyes softened like a secret.

The museum had shut its doors to the public at 6:00. By 7:15, it was yours alone. Echoing floors, tall ceilings, marble columns leading to hushed rooms, all flooded in warm golden light. Damian walked you through the Impressionists first. He spoke softly, almost reverently—about oil brushwork, the interplay of light and motion, how Manet weaponized color. There was something about hearing him—Damian Wayne, child of war and shadow—talk about atmospheric perspective like it was something holy.

“Look at the emotional architecture,” he murmured, pausing before a muted Chagall. “The structure of grief in the way the lines collapse toward the left. You can see the subject wants to leave the room, but the room will not let her.”

You turned toward him. “That one reminds me of you.”

He blinked. No quip. No snort. Just...stillness.

A breath. Then another.

You watched the silence settle into his shoulders, unsure if he was flattered or panicking. You were about to joke it off—when suddenly—

“HhhHKKk’CHHSHH!”

A violent sneeze echoed across the entire museum like a grenade in an empty cathedral.

You both turned slowly, as one.

From behind a marble bust in the Romanticism wing, a crackling voice came over the coms: “Sorry—allergies!”

“Stephanie,” Damian said in a voice usually reserved for supervillains and disappointed Shakespearean monologues. “This is why I don’t take them anywhere.”

You barely suppressed a laugh. “You knew they were here?”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hoped I was wrong.”

Down the east corridor, two distinct silhouettes peeked out from behind a 9-foot sculpture of Artemis. Jason was wearing a museum security badge upside down and holding a clipboard he was clearly using as a tray for takeout. Stephanie—crouched beside him in a trench coat and baseball cap—was whispering into a walkie-talkie with the stealth of a small rhino.

“I told you the mic was too close to your face,” Jason muttered.

Steph hissed back, “Sorry, I sneezed. It’s dusty in here!”

Back in the Impressionist gallery, Damian rubbed his temple like this was all personally offensive.

“And why,” he asked the universe, “is Todd carrying egg rolls in a museum?”

“Because,” came a crisp British voice from the main atrium, “someone has to maintain standards.”

You turned to see Alfred Pennyworth—immaculate in a faux security guard uniform—holding a silver tray of hors d’oeuvres like it was wartime Versailles.

“Would you care for a prosciutto puff?” he asked you, deadpan.

Damian looked like he wanted to dissolve through the floor.

Alfred added, with a glance toward Steph and Jason: “Miss Brown tried to bribe the actual docent with a Crunchwrap Supreme. I had to intervene.”

You took a puff pastry and tried not to laugh.

A voice from the shadows: “Pfft. Amateur.”

From behind a false wall, a gloved hand polished a modern sculpture. You blinked. “Is that... Dick?”

“Richard has infiltrated as a janitorial subcontractor,” Damian muttered, sounding so tired. “He insisted it was ‘part of the immersive experience.’”

“I’m wearing coveralls and everything,” Dick’s voice called proudly from behind a giant steel cube. “Museum chic.”

Damian turned to you, exhausted. “Please believe me when I say, I wanted this to be romantic.”

You looped your arm through his and smiled. “It still is.”

He paused. “Despite the surveillance?”

“Because of it,” you teased. “It’s very us.”

Damian blinked. Then—slowly, reluctantly—smiled. A real one. The kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but was still a rare and quiet thing.

“I loathe you,” he murmured to the empty air.

“Love you too, baby bird,” came Jason’s voice over the coms.

“I have no siblings,” Damian muttered, guiding you toward a post-modernist piece shaped like an unraveling staircase.

From behind the bust, Steph whispered: “Did he just blush?”

Dick whispered back: “I’m so proud.”

Jason: “I’m gonna cry. That’s our boy.”

Steph: “Wait—can we do a slow clap?”

Alfred: “If you start clapping, I am tasering everyone and leaving.”

Back in the gallery, Damian took your hand and placed it over his heart. “Ignore the interlopers. This painting reminds me of you. Bold color. Sharp lines. Impossible to look away from.”

You smiled, a little breathless. “Now you’re being romantic.”

He tilted his head. “You started it.”

Behind you, Steph sneezed again.

Damian didn’t even flinch. “I will burn this museum to the ground.”

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[hearts4hughes]

With the leaked pics of Wheezie’s actress being on set that came out I request ex!Rafe and reader who’s close to Wheezie.

Maybe one day when she’s hanging out with him outside and they see reader. And Wheezie admits she misses reader but doesn’t think reader will hang out with the little sister of reader’s ex boyfriend.

wheezie’s sitting on the porch swing, knees pulled up to her chest, twisting the drawstrings of her hoodie between her fingers. the breeze is sticky with june humidity. she’s mid-rant about her calc tutor when rafe finally looks from his phone.

“you’re not even listening,” she mutters, catching it with a scowl.

“because it’s boring,” he says, not looking up from his phone.

“you’re boring.”

“you’re a child.”

“and you’re so annoying.”

he smirks, stretches, doesn’t respond. the porch creaks as he leans against the railing, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. that’s when wheezie sees you.

you’re across the street, head tilted, hand gesturing mid-conversation with someone she doesn’t recognize. there’s a tote bag over your shoulder, a pair of headphones around your neck. you look soft and so familiar it hurts.

wheezie goes quiet. rafe follows her gaze lazily. then the earth stops. his whole body stills, like a dog catching a scent.

“she’s with someone,” wheezie says after a second, voice low. “not with with. just…walking.”

rafe doesn’t say anything, but his jaw clicks. you haven’t seen them yet. or maybe you have and you’re just pretending you haven’t. you’re good at that—avoiding things, especially him. rafe watches your mouth move, eyes skimming the curve of your jaw, the way your fingers curl around the strap of your bag. there’s a flash of silver on your wrist—his. well, it used to be.

“you know,” wheezie says suddenly, sharp with the kind of honesty only little sisters get to use, “she didn’t just leave you. she left me.” rafe’s gaze flicks to her, unreadable. “she was like. she was there…all the time. she knew my coffee order. she let me borrow her nail polish even though i always messed it up. and now she’s never around.”

he blinks and scoffs, biting his fingernail. “what, you want me to fix it?”

“no,” she snaps. “i want you to not be the reason it’s broken.” that lands harder than it should. he straightens a little. wheezie sighs and picks at the label on the waterbottle near her. “she probably thinks i’d choose you.”

rafe’s quiet for a long time. “you wouldn’t?” he asks like it’s a shock.

“not if you’re the reason she cries every night.” she shrugs and scrunches her nose. he doesn’t reply. doesn’t move. just sits there and watches you laugh at something the guy says, head thrown back like rafe never existed.

when you finally glance across the street—eyes catching on the two of them, just for a second—wheezie lifts a hand in a soft wave. you smile and wave. a small, gentle thing. hand raised and real. it’s not meant for rafe, but he knows that.

wheezie perks up beside him, waving back with both hands like she’s twelve again. “see?” he says quietly. “she doesn’t hate you. i’m the one she hates.”

still, he’s frozen in place. your smile—it’s not nothing. it’s not for wheezie only. not the way your eyes linger on him, not the way your mouth tilts like you know he hasn’t stopped watching you. but, he doesn’t smile or doesn’t wave back. he doesn’t give you anything at all.

because if he does, he’s afraid he’ll walk right across the street and kiss you in front of everyone just to prove you’re still his. so he just sits there, mouth hanging open, ruined in silence, and watches you walk away.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry @urcoolgf @thegirlnextdoorssister @sydneysslove @dsfault @missabsey

[pixie-felix]

O V U L A T I N G

So this drabble has been coming up a lot in my notifications recently so I thought I'd try and write a proper fic for it :) unfortunately I kinda got carried away with the crack, so when it came to the Chan smut the tonal shift was pretty jarring. I got bored trying to make it work and then I got sick of looking at it, so I figured I'd stop stressing about it and just post it in two parts 💁‍♀️

Thank you @a-jazzy-bitch for reading through this and convincing me to keep in the notes I wrote when I was half asleep.

wc: 1.7k genre: cracksmut summary: poly!ot8 x fem!reader lore with condoms galore. so much safe sex. Channie would be proud if he wasn't so pissed at Seungmin. explicit warnings under the cut (they're mostly silly).

explicit warnings: mentions of han’s freaky rodent libido, jeongin being a (literal) sneaky fucker, [redacted] bottoming for the maknae, felix x you x seungmin spitroast, flavoured condoms, ovulating makes you crazy horny.

Once upon a time, Chan would have been embarrassed about buying sixteen boxes of condoms at once. He’d tried to get away with just eight before: one for each member.

One box each seemed reasonable, right? 

But then Han’s freaky rodent libido had kicked in, and he’d gotten through his box so fast he started stealing condoms from the other guys. Chaos had ensued. Arguments about fairness, accusations of favouritism. Tempers had flared, fists had been raised. 

Moms had been mentioned. 

And the whole time you were a needy, horny little mess, whimpering and whining for someone to just shut up and fuck you. Begging like you’d been cock starved for fifty years.

Chan was almost proud of Jeongin, the way he used the argument to his advantage. Quietly sliding over to you and gently lifting you up so he could dress his cock with your cunt, while the others almost came to blows. The way he rolled his hips gently, murmuring no donut filth into your ear while you tried to stay quiet. 

You've always been bad at keeping quiet. Especially with Jeongin. Chan understands, he bottomed for the maknae once. He might not be Catholic, but there's no denying it: that cock was sculpted by God.

Thank fuck Jeongin decided not to be a priest. Dick that good should always be deep in someone's guts. 

It was actually the lack of sound that gave you two away. When Minho stopped to take a breath after a full two minutes of cussing out Jisung and he noticed you were no longer mewling for attention. 

A quick glance over to the bed revealed the reason– the way you were holding one of Jeongin’s hands over your mouth with both of yours. His other arm was wrapped around your waist to keep you still as he ground into you slowly.The seething jealousy stirring in Minho’s gut was quickly stifled by the big boba eyes you gave him, silently promising him a turn too. 

The ultimate hyung-but-one had always been a patient man, and was more than happy to watch until it’s his turn. Especially when the view was that good.

Han was less gracious when he saw what was happening. Cue the cries of betrayal, the whining, the pouting, the begging for his turn. Completely disregarding how it was him and his ridiculous libido AND lightspeed recovery rate that caused the whole kerfuffle in the first place. 

It was Seungmin who snapped, whacking his hyung over the head with a rolled up newspaper and telling him to wait his damn turn. 

Han shut up, pouting those cute quokka cheeks so hard he gave himself muscle cramps. Even then he would not stop. Not even when Felix started peppering his stupid sulky face with tons of teeny tiny kisses, trying to make him giggle and smile and generally cheer the fuck up.

But Hannie sulks as hard as he smiles, in the end being banished to his room and only let out for snacks and bathroom breaks, to stop him from ruining the mood. Not that you would’ve been able to notice, being caught up in a seven way tag team and all…

You did find him later, raiding the cupboards for snacks and hoarding all of the emergency heartbreak ice cream from the freezer– his heart was broken after all. 

On the plus side, he’d written two new songs in his exile– both with the kind of heart wrenching lyrics that’d make you think he’d gone through three divorces, eight jobs, and watched everyone he loved perish in an 18th century shipwreck. Possibly involving a kraken or two.

Two excellent songs, sure to stir the emotions of any Stay. Though the second one–the one about the cure for his heartbreak being your thighs around his head and his tongue deep in your cunt…

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t going on the album.

He gave you his best kicked puppy eyes when you cornered him in the kitchen, clutching his high calorie loot to his chest, holding it like it was his first born child.

Which he promptly dropped, nay, threw to the floor when you shyly asked if he’d come back to your apartment and keep you company for the night.

His face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, bidding a fond farewell to his junk food child as he scooped you up and princess-carried you to his room. Mumble-babbling something to the tune of yes yes 110% yes please yes yes I would love to come and spend the night at yours but I need to fuck you right now before I actually explode.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Chan realised Han had somehow stolen all of the condoms, including the emergency one he kept in his back pocket.

So, two boxes each it is. Plus one extra box, bought in secret and hidden at the back of Chan’s wardrobe. For emergencies. Right next to the extra emergency first aid kit, in case some overenthusiastic riding ends up with another painful penis incident…

Chan had been worried about the checkout girl taking too long, about one of the others taking his turn and having to wait another rotation before getting inside you. 

Rotation? Explanation:

You might be willing to jump on anyone’s dick in your estrogen-induced haze, but after the Great Condom Theft of 2024, Chan and Minho worked out a strict schedule: keeping your days full of dick appointments while making sure none of the members felt left out.

It worked, mostly. Until unexpected events. Like the checkout girl taking too. damn. long.

But when Chan finally walked back into the dorm (in a cool and dignified manner, he definitely didn’t sprint up the stairs because the elevator was taking too long) the scene awaiting him in the living room was not what he was expecting.

Because instead of Hyunjin having his turn, or even Han sneaking a quick one in… it’s still Seungmin fucking you.

He’d had you in a mating press on the floor when Chan left, (which Chan was 100% not jealous about because that’s definitely not his trademarked move), but now Seungmin's got you on the couch, pounding you from the back while you moan around Felix’s dick. 

You must’ve sucked the blond raw by now, but if the gentle way Felix’s cupping your head and smiling at you is anything to go by, the way he’s brushing the hair off your forehead so he can look you deep in the eyes even as your nails leave little red scratches over his thighs… yeah, he doesn’t seem to mind. Felix has always been into a little bit of pain anyway.

Han is jerking off to the side, because of course he is. 

And Seungmin's designated box of condoms lying on the floor next to the couch, empty. There had been two left when Chan left, and he was only gone for 30 minutes. Chan’s not sure if he’s impressed, relieved, or frustrated. Probably a healthy mix of all three. 

Damn these young ‘uns and their ridiculous recovery rates.

Seungmin doesn’t look up when Chan shuts the door behind him, too busy concentrating on not nutting until he’s fucked you through at lease one more orgasm. But you do. 

You moan something that might’ve been his name, the vibrations finally pushing Felix over the edge and into filling his pretty pink condom. Watermelon flavoured of course, Lixxie always buys you sweet flavours when he wants head. So considerate.

As Felix slips from your mouth, your face lights up into an almost-exhausted-but-radiant smile as you murmur “Channie~” in a tone that makes Chan’s heart melt to mush… and his dick as hard as a diamond.

Seungmin definitely heard that, and there’s no way he misses the way you reach for Chan, but he chooses to ignore it. 

“Minnie.” Chan warns the younger man, who doesn't even spare him a glance and just starts to pound you harder instead. Pressing your face down into the cushions a little more, getting you to arch your back so he can hit it just right, making you cry out in that special way that means you’re about to cum… 

And as he fucks you through it? That’s when Seungmin finally acknowledges Chan, smirking up at him through his sweat-slick bangs as he taunts his hyung:

“Wait your turn, old man.”

“Bad pup.” Chan growls, ready to rip him off you and silently regretting not taking up Minho on his offer to hide strategically placed spray bottles around the door for “when the dog needs to be trained.” 

Before Chan can go and grab a water bottle from the fridge, a quiet whimper interrupts his thoughts.

“Minnie… please. Need Channie.” Your voice is soft. Needy. Irresistible. You must be exhausted at this point, but you’re practically glowing, looking at Chan with that special soft smile you save just for him.

Seungmin groans in protest, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts just a little harder before remembering consent is key and reluctantly pulling out. But his attitude melts instantly when you lean back and kiss him, your neck twisting enough for Chan to see the mosaic of love bites and hickeys adorning your skin. 

Someone completely forgot the no marking up rule. Or just straight up ignored it.

Chan makes a note to give Seungmin extra dance practice. Not as a punishment of course, that would be petty. The almost-maknae’s hip thrusts just need a little more work. They’re getting sloppy.

The way you whimper when Seungmin strokes your neck brings him back to reality, his eyes snapping open as he feels over the little bruises. He quickly kisses over each one, whispering something sweet in your ear and making you giggle. 

Then he shoots his hyung a grin that says “worth it” and makes himself scarce, taking Chan’s stress levels with him and leaving you lax and boneless on the couch. The way you giggle when he scoops you up makes his heart flutter, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carries you to his bedroom.

While absolutely not against living room sex (sharing is caring after all, and it’s not like there’s room for embarrassment in a nine-way poly relationship) but right now Chan wants you all to himself.

He even takes the time to lock the door after kicking it shut, balancing your entire weight between his chest and one arm as he flips the handle.

No more interruptions.

part two?

Taglist: @sthaay @bluesungology @chrizzztopherbang @avnche @kemkem33 @mikaelless @lvrgrl-xo @eevenus @furioussheepluminary @sheerfreesia007 @aasthamoon @amazinglystay @delulustardust @galaxy4489 @lil-bear08 @abby-loves-aphrodite @a-jazzy-bitch @incognitoinstigator @minhooofr

[chevxyn]

VIDEO GAME LOVER!

you guys met at a roblox game, which game did you meet and how did it went?

featuring; nagi, hiori (bllk). kenma, suna (hq) x you.

crackfic, romantic outcome.

NAGI SEISHIRO

you both met at royale high— he was one of those jake/single/prince guy as a joke, and you wanted to be a troll for him.

you met him at the cafeteria of royale high, you saw him and his terrible name— wanting to mess with the (what you thought) kid, seeing him all alone in the corner, you joined his seat. and the conversation went like this:

you : hii!

nagi : hey

you : ur very cute :3

nagi : thx, u too

you two kinda went back and forth (trolling eachother by flirting) until someone in chat went ‘eww’ and then he private chatted you.

nagi : ur not a 12 year old aren’t u

you : nope

right after that, he sent you a friend request. and that was history, after 2 years— both of you met and strangely enough, actually started dating after catching feelings for one another.

HIORI YO

you both met at life in paradise— he was a random guy that you picked up to be the father of your kids

he was just a random guy that was chilling outside the adoption center, when you pulled the hearts item to him cause you were bored. seeing that, he wanted to mess with you, so he pulled the hearts item from his inventory too.

from there, he sorta just followed you around as you took (kidnapped) 2 kids to roleplay with. but with your odd way of roleplaying and raising the kids, he immediately catched on that you’re most likely a troll and not a kid playing this game.

hiori : why are u giving our kids that

you : it’s healthy

hiori : that’s literally metal

you : it’s natural, so technically it’s healthy

that’s when he shot you a friend request, after around a year— you both face revealed to eachother and began a long distance relationship after learning about eachother.

KOZUME KENMA

you both met at arsenal, you were the always ranked first player until he came and then he destroyed you.

you were peacefully playing, destroying all these children until a player called “kodzuken” joined the game. safe to say, you were humbled. the guy would always choose the other team, or the team where you’re not on.

not to mention, always targetting you, and he never missed. being a little annoyed, you wanted to leave the game but decided to stay until you finally get your revenge. but after countless of times, he private chatted you.

kenma : just give up lol

you : no

kenma : i will keep targeting you

you : alr then vro

and so you did— well, tried to get your revenge. when you thought you won when his profile wasn’t in the leaderboard, you suddenly realized; he had left. curious, you went to check who kodzuken is and found his twitch. turns out? bro was a monster at arsenal.

you shot a dm, and when he replied— you both (somehow) befriended eachother. when they figured out they were at the same school, they became friends. well, until their third year where they dated.

SUNA RINTAROU

you both met at my little pony 3d : friendship is magic roleplay, he was discord and you were playing as fluttershy.

you both met in the canterlot castle, you were using fluttershy and he was using discord. the catch? you both act the opposite of the way the two characters interact.

suna : p-please fluttershy.. i’m so sorry

you : don’t worry girlie, i got you

suna : my hero!

you : grrr..

it was so bad, that a few kids even raged and told you guys that’s not how they act and how both of them are stupid friends. but, both of you didn’t even knew eachother before this.

suna : b-b-but fluttershy, i-i can’t..

you : yes you can ### (bbg)

you : oh come on

suna : ####### (LMAOOOO)

after you said you needed to go, he sent a friend request— which you accepted. you both were initially just bestfriends, but after 4 years being with eachother. you both realize you can’t function without the other. in that equation? you both date.

©chevxyn

[starlinggirll]

TIME FOR A HAIRCUT — D. ART

AUTHORS NOTE - mueheheheheheh i need him. also can we talk that WE as a community wrote fics for these pictures not even a day after they came out?? we're truly the best community i fear... also! this is also a reqs someone sent for husband!art for the pic in the middle! (i lost the req sorry but yk who you are!)

WARNINGS - dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), cussing, humping kinda (its the bed)

"good morning," he whispered against your temple after walking through the door.

he thought retirement would be better; more time for you and the twins, more time for himself. less time in the public eye.

he was so wrong.

he did spent most of his time with you and the twins.

he does have time for himself. which helped him change alot of things about him.

his diet, his time management, his hair.

but when he wasn't he was out for photoshoots, promo photos, advertisements. it was less grueling than hours of daily practice, tasteless, dry meals. but it was still alot.

but that's what came with being a prodigy at tennis, with being a household name.

"mornin'" you groaned, stretching your arms as he walked to your vanity to check himself out. "how was the event?" you asked tiredly, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched him look at himself in the mirror.

"boring, like usual." you hummed at his response, curling up further into the sheets. "you know..." he turned to you, a slight frown on his face. "do you think i should cut my hair? an interviewer asked about it." he murmured, walking up to you, kicking his shoes off, unbuttoning his shirt before laying down beside you. "but like in a condescending way, i guess."

you took his position as an invitation, scooting closer to him, resting your forehead against his. "i think," you whisper, brushing one of the front pieces of his hair off his face. "you should think about what i think about your hair more than what an interviewer said."

he grins, closing his eyes, relishing on the warmth your body is radiating. "and what do you think then?"

"that you look so fucking hot."

he groans, getting ontop of you and catching your lips in a sloppy, wet kiss. his hands dropped down to your breasts, giving them a slight squeeze before his lips descended onto your neck. "yeah? you like my hair that much?" he growled, parting your thighs so he could easily fit inbetween them.

you nodded, breathlessly moaning as he bit your neck. his kisses continued going lower and lower until finally reaching your stomach.

"art.." you whined, arching you back.

your fingers go tangled up in his hair. and you tugged.

he would be lying if he said he's keeping the length just for that. you pulling at it when you feel needy, when you want him to stop because he's overstimulating you. but also when its just you and him in bed, and your fingers go through his hair as he rests his head on your chest.

he moans without him realizing, his cock throbbing already.

but he cant.

he needs to please you first.

"lift up your hips for me baby." and you do, ofcourse you do.

he tosses your panties away, his eyes locked in your wet cunt. you tug him down, pressing his face into your core. he groans, taking in your smell he became so, so familiar with before going absolutely crazy inbetween your legs.

he's slurping, sucking, licking and spitting. the sounds both you and him are making are straight out of a porn video. "f-fuck!" you yelp, tugging harshly at his hair, bucking up your hips against his face.

"are you coming baby?" he says against your pussy, the vibrations making your body tremble. you nod, your free hand gripping the sheets. "do it all over my face. come on."

meanwhile, he's full on humping the bed, his cock is throbbing painfully. aching to be inside the person he adores and loves more than anything else. you.

you groan loudly, your eyes watering as you come. "fuck fuck fuck.." you moan out, body going limp from the feeling of the orgasm. he slurps every drop of your orgasm, softly rubbing your hips before giving your cunt tiny kisses. "there there."

you tug at his hair, again. wanting him to hold you. and he does, taking off his already loose buttoned down shirt before kissing your cheeks. and you bury your face into his chest, nuzzling your cheek against his chest hairs while your hand is still in his hair, but instead of pulling, you're now caressing his scalp.

"so i guess this means i shouldn't cut my hair then?" he whispers, tucking his chin ontop of your head while chuckling. "you think?" you giggle,running your finger up and down his abdomen.

"do you... to go again?" he whispers, already unbuckling his belt. and you nod. your hands already inside of pants. "before the twins wake up."

[nights-at-crystarium]

I was gonna make a quick shitpost like haha this's Emet-Selch and the sundered (if you're confused reading this, this's a ffxiv post now) but wanted to look up the context to validate the vibes I got from this. Just dumping the entire legend from wikisource:

That great hero-wanderer Ulysses had been with his companions driven hither and thither at the will of the winds for ten years, never knowing what their ultimate fate was to be. At length they disembarked upon a shore where Circe, the daughter of Apollo, held her court. Receiving them she brewed a delicious but baneful liquor, which she made them drink. The result of this was that first they lost their reason, and a few moments after, their bodies took the forms and features of various animals; some unwieldy, some small. Ulysses alone, having the wisdom to withstand the temptation of the treacherous cup, escaped the metamorphosis. He, besides possessing wisdom, bore the look of a hero and had the gift of honeyed speech, so that it came about that the goddess herself imbibed a poison little different from her own; that is to say, she became enamoured of the hero and declared her love to him. Now was the time for Ulysses to profit by this turn of events, and he was too cunning to miss the opportunity, so he begged and obtained the boon that his friends should be restored to their natural shapes.

"But will they be willing to accept their own forms again?" asked the nymph, "Go to them and make them the offer."

Ulysses, glad and eager, ran to his Greeks and cried, The poisoned cup has its remedy, and I come to offer it to you. Dear friends of mine, will you not be glad to have your manly forms again? Speak, for your speech is already restored."

The lion was the first to reply. Making an effort to roar he said, "I, for one, am not such a fool. What! renounce all the great advantages that have just been given me? I have teeth, I have claws, I can pull to pieces anything that attacks me. I am, in fact, a king. Do you think it would suit me to become a citizen of Ithaca once more? Who knows but that you might make of me a common soldier again. Thank you; but I will remain as I am."

Ulysses, in sad surprise, turned to the bear. "Ah, brother! what form is this you have taken, you who used to be so handsome?"

"Well, really! I like that!" said the bear in his way. What form is this? you ask. Why it is the form that a bear should have. Pray who instructed you that one form is more handsome than another? Is it your business to judge between us? I prefer to appeal to the sight of the gentler sex in our ursine race. Do I displease you? Then pass on. Go your ways and leave me to mine. I am free and content as I am, and I tell you frankly and flatly that I will not change my state."

The princely Greek then turned to a wolf with the same proposals, and risking a similar rebuff said:

"Comrade, it overwhelms me that a sweet young shepherdess should be driven to complain to the echoing crags of the gluttonous appetite that impelled you to devour her sheep. Time was when you would have protected her sheepfold. In those days you led an honest life. Leave your lairs and become, instead of a wolf, an honest man again."

"What is that?" answered the wolf. "I don't see your point. You come here treating me as though I were a carnivorous beast. But what are you, who are talking in this strain? Would not you and yours have eaten these sheep, which all the village is deploring, if I had not? Now say, on your oath, do you really think I should have loved slaughter any less if I had remained a man? For a mere word, you men are at times ready to strangle each other. Are you not, therefore, as wolves one to another? All things considered, I maintain as a matter of fact that, rascal for rascal, it is better to be a wolf than a man. I decline to make any change in my condition."

In this way did Ulysses go from one to another making the same representations and receiving from all, large and small alike, the same refusals. Liberty, unbridled lust of appetite, the ambushes of the woods, all these things were their supreme delight. They all renounced the glory attaching to great deeds.

They thought that in following their passions they were enjoying freedom, not seeing that they were but slaves to themselves.

'The Companions of Ulysses' by Gustave Dore, (1832 - 1883)

[adoredvi]

TILL DEATH DO US APART

1x1x1x1 x GN!Reader

Vi notes: uhmm punctuations may be horrendous and there are some error in the process, because English is NOT my first language and I just made this for fun, so enjoy:>>

They say that love is the greatest thing that can happen to a being. And you agree— it is.

Growing up, you are taught that love is important, along with kindness, and being respectful to people around you. At first, you were defiant about it, you dislike how your parents constantly wanted to instill that mentality in you, and as you grow older, you kinda see the appeal in their words and what they wanted you to learn.

1x1x1x1, or 1x for short, always wondered what he went wrong whenever she tried to get him to notice them, it's frustrating, every attempt, every single time they tried, she always fails, hell she even tried to go and do what it takes for him to notice him, but alas— it always fails, it never worked anyway.

He feels so much hatred inside of him, it slowly builds up as time goes by— everytime he sees him paying attention to other's aside from her. He thought it was all going to be like that for the rest of their life, until you came in, you lit up their life, their darkening heart, you drove them mad with every little smile you flash their way, every little encouraging words that he thought he'll never hear again. She loved it, she loves you, even if they don't want to admit it out loud.

You noticed— of course you did, you always do, you seemed to have made a habit of being observant of their movements, behavior, even how he speaks— you just find him endearing, but was it really just that? You really don't know.

You don't know until you found out they suddenly disappeared. You asked and asked everywhere, even going as far as to asking his creator who only looked at you and turned away not wanting to break your sweet fragile heart.

He isn't the same person you know anymore.

She didn't get it, she didn't get why their creator sent him down to this hell hole, to his own personal hell, and there it is, the hatred— the emotion he buried deep. The emotion that they never wanted to come out ever again, they thought that it's not there anymore, you helped them didn't you?....

Or were you lying like he is too..?

He walked, stared and grew bored alone in that world, not a single living thing around her, even things started shifting— like her skin, it started darkening, their own body shifting differently from what they used to know, it was horrifying, but did he care anymore? No, he barely even felt anything aside from hatred. That feeling of need for revenge, for satisfaction of seeing those who wronged him fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness while she stare at them condescendingly.

But from amidst of these thoughts, you always come crawling back to their mind, her heart pounding painfully, they don't know if they even have that anymore but it somehow did whenever they remember you smile and the way you lit up the room around you.

They groan whenever that happens, they just want to keep you in arms reach, or in other words, in their arms, and keep you away from prying eyes where others can disgustingly lay their eyes on your illuminating self.

It was yet another day of being alone in this dark world, 1x is seen wondering around the place, they seemed to have memorized it already, it was the only thing he can do in such place really, so he has no choice anyway.

1x sighed in boredom, the whole area felt empty without your presence, even though they've been there for what seemed like eternity, she still haven't forgotten who you are.

And when it seemed like it was getting too boring, she was teleported in a deserted hallway, that was until— of course a flash of red ran past him, only stopping a few feet away from behind her, and coming back once more.

"Oh oh!! A new person!!!" It? He said with so much enthusiasm, jumping up and down before physically dragging her from the place he came running out of.

"Lookie guys!! A new person arrived!!" The little guy yelled as soon as he entered the room, the door practically forcing open with his entery, his voice carrying that of excitement, cutting off the chatter in the room.

1x grunted in disapproval and distaste, brushing the kid's hand off of her, before standing there with his arms crossed, looking all too observant to his surroundings.

That went on for hours, and of course, 1x got the information they wanted, why were they here, and where are they.

1x sighed, the noise echoing through the confined space if their room, their first match is tomorrow, already, he already knows his abilities so is it even a surprise her first match is just right after she came to this world? No. The Spectre doesn't either.

You were confused, you spawned in on a room— a cabin, right on the cold wooded floor, luckily, a few people saw you and Introduced themselves and explained where you are, thankfully.

You understand the concept, but you don't know why you're here to begin with, judging by what the survivors around you, some looked like they hadn't seen a better day— which kinda is true considering their situation.

They also told you about your supposed abilities, which were pretty surprising considering you are just pretty much a normal robloxian, there is nothing important about you whatsoever, but did you complain? No, you're already here anyway.

Meeting again isn't in both of your bucket list, but here you are, face to face with one another— the other bleeding, and the other staring them down with so much emotion mixed into one.

You never expected to see him again, but neither did she expect to see you again, but here you are, faced to face with one another.

The time is running out, all your other teammates were down and dead, leaving you last, but did 1x made an attempt to move? No, they didn't, instead? They surprised themselves and you. He hugged you, brought you into his arms in a tight hold, muttering things about how stupid you are for getting hurt.

It was their way of saying they care and they missed you, but you didn't speak about it and just leaned into her hold, you missed this, you missed her.

"Death can't separate us," you would mutter in the past while you hold them in your arms similar to what she was doing now. It always made them smile and sigh in relief whenever you mutter those lines.

And now, they seem to be the one to be saying that, although albeit, silently, their hold on you tightening in the slightest while the time runs out.

It seemed like even when obstacles keeps you both apart, you will find each other over and over again, even after death.

IM SORRY IF 1X SEEMS OOC IN THIS I'M BAD AT CHARACTERS PERSONALITY...and it's not the canon either, I think....I also got lazy at the end😣😣

[yup-thats-me]

—Jelly • K. Hongjoong

⋆˙⟡pairing: bf!Hongjoong x fem!reader ⋆˙⟡summary: ❝It wasn't your plan to run into your old crush before a date with your lover. but you couldn't lie, seeing the evil squirrel getting jelly did feel nice❞ ⋆˙⟡warnings: none ⋆˙⟡a/n: had fun writing this. lmk how you guys enjoyed it :3

₊˚⊹𐙚°｡⋆♡

"Joongie," You ask, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Are you jealous?"

And Hongjoong turns, eyes boring into yours. "What if I am?" he asks quitely. "God forbid a man gets angry that some asshole tries flirting with his girl."

You giggle, hitting him lightly. "Babe," you manage to say between laughs. "He was not flirting with me."

"Uh, pretty sure he was," he pointed. You smile, poking his cheek.

Hongjoong being as busy as he was, it took him a really long time to plan this date with you.

Coming home to see you fast asleep on the couch because you stayed up late waiting for him, keeping away from him while he worked, only giving him coffee for breaks and stole small pecks, it pained Hongjoong.

He too wanted to hold you close and eat dinner together, have long talks about life and nothing at all. So when he finally found a day off in his schedule before the tour starts again, he spent days meticulously planning each and everything for today.

What places you'll visit, the restaurants booked, outfits picked beforehand. All of that for to chat with your old crush for twenty minutes.

"Joongie," you start, pouting. "Why are you so mad, though? I'm yours and pretty much the entire world knows that."

Hongjoong turns, eyes boring into yours.

"Its not about that, Y/n!" He pouted.

Running into a crush from school was not in your plan. Having bumped into him in a coffee shop, all those memories came flooding back. The days you had spent researching for his favorite color at school, sneaking peeks while he played basketball. The man was a catch, you'd give him that.

But Hongjoong had not failed to see how the now-irrelevant-guy's jaw clenched when you introduced the singer as your boyfriend. Hongjoong snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Giving the man a tight smile, he offered his hand.

"Kim Hongjoong, nice to meet you."

And you could sense something shift in the air. What you didn't see was the two men had each other's hands in a death-grip, jaw clenched. As they parted, their hands were red.

As you talked, the guy tried several times to get your number on the pretense of ''catching up." And maybe you would've given to him if not for his request of meeting you alone. Without your lover who's right beside you.

Being you, you nudged Hongjoong lightly as you gave him some made-up number on the spot. Those days have passed. He means nothing now. And if you did in fact want to catch up, you could do it with your other friends.

Hongjoong couldn't lie, he did feel a surge of pride when he saw how smoothly you handled the situation.

But now alone with you beside him, the producer now realized that he still could lose you. In his mind, you can still leave him after four loving years sent together. No matter how many times he tells himself that you won't, the brain is such a thing that does not know to shut up.

He spoke after a long period of silence. "...Would you have gone with him if I wasn't around?" His voice slow and meek.

You shake your head. "You think?" You say, smiling gently. "He's history, my love," hands clasping with his.

"He was and is just a girlhood crush. You, darling," your hands caressing his cheek. "How could I leave someone so wonderful? You're my life, don't you know that?"

The sincerity in your voice made it impossible to not meet your gaze. Breathing softly, Hongjoong brushes hair out of your face, pressing his lips to yours.

And before you could react, the man is leant back on his seat, smiling smugly.

"At least give me a warning!"

do not copy, steal or translate my work on any other sites. All rights belongs to yup-thats-me© on tumblr

⋆. 𐙚 ˚reqs are openᝰ.ᐟ

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Boy toy

Written for @switcheddieweek, day 6, and for round two of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Exposure | Switch, Sugar Daddy, Sub!Eddie

Relationship: Steve x Eddie

Rated: E

Words: 1,290 [also on AO3]

Tags: Switching; Sub!Eddie; Dom!Steve; Rock star Eddie; Movie star Steve; Modern AU; Blindfolds; Lace; Lingerie; Toys; Collars; Humiliation; Dirty talk; Finger sucking; Dry humping; Blow jobs

“Eddie Munson’s newest boy toy.”

Steve reads out the headline in the same bored drawl that he recited the last two articles in, but a faint tremble of amusement is creeping in. Even without being able to see, Eddie can picture him perfectly: phone balanced in one hand, the other fiddling softly with the remote on the armrest, the barest of smiles grazing his lips.

“Subheading, wait for it: … Who's the face behind that ass? God, who comes up with these? Do you think this is serious or some silly joke?”

Silence settles over the room, only disturbed by the low hum of the toy buzzing against Eddie’s prostate. Steve lets it linger, just long enough for the warm coil of arousal in Eddie’s belly to settle back in. Just long enough for the dull, painful tingle in his knees to start bothering him again, now that there's nothing to distract himself. Just long enough for him to start wondering if he should answer the question.

Then again, Steve was pretty clear in his instructions.

Kneel.

Head down.

Don't make a sound.

It's a bit strange. For all that Steve loves to test Eddie’s patience when their positions are reversed - always wiggling and whining and pleading at him with those big, wet eyes of his - he has no tolerance for disobedience when he's the one calling the shots, not even on a good day.

And today is not a good day. Today, Steve is pissed.

“It's common knowledge by now,” Steve reads, casually turning up the vibrations of the toy, “that Eddie Munson has a type. Corroded Coffin’s frontman likes his men young, athletic and shapely. And what can we say? His newest catch, spotted recently at luxury BDSM club The Hideout, clearly ticks all of those boxes.”

There’s another beat of silence. Eddie hears how Steve fiddles with the remote again, and this time, the pattern of the vibrations changes. Not a constant buzz anymore, but a slow ebb and swell, each crest sending delicious shockwaves of pleasure into his leaking cock. His fingers twitch, longing to touch himself, but he keeps his arms crossed behind his back just like Steve told him.

“There’s pictures, too,” Steve says. “I don’t need to describe them, I think?”

He doesn’t. Eddie has seen them approximately a hundred times since the first article came out this morning - and even if he hadn’t, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way Steve looked that night. How the lace hugged his legs and thighs. Dark, shimmery black contrasting beautifully with his tan skin, matching the color of his shorts and collar. The broad lace blindfold - the same one Eddie is wearing right now - making his lips look all the more shiny and pink. Eddie still remembers how he begged and pleaded against it. Steve doesn’t like having his vision impaired, least of all when they’re out in public. He says it makes him feel exposed and helpless, but Eddie was feeling a little mean that day, so he stayed firm.

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing. Paired with the low light of the venue and the distance from which the pictures were snapped, the blindfold makes it near impossible to make out features - apart from Steve’s strong jaw and the spectacular swoop of his hair, maybe. Steve should be happy about it, truth be told.

Except he isn’t.

“Fans are, of course, dying to know who Eddie’s newest sugarbaby is,” Steve continues. “Knowing him, it’s probably only a matter of time until we find out. … Well, I’m sure they’d fucking love that, huh?”

A long, slender finger hooks itself through the o-ring of Eddie’s collar and pulls. Not very harshly, but since Eddie doesn’t see it coming, he still yelps in surprise and struggles to maintain his balance, not daring to bring his hands forward to support himself. The sudden shift in position nudges the toy a bit more firmly against his prostate. The next vibration comes reliably and relentlessly, and he moans, precome dribbling onto the fabric of his lace stockings.

“You told me,” Steve says, voice suddenly very close to his ear, “that place was discreet. You told me I didn’t have to worry about it, and look where it got us. What if anyone recognizes me, have you thought about that for a- … Are you smiling?”

Eddie shakes his head as well as Steve’s hold on the collar will allow, biting the inside of his mouth to get the treacherous little tug of his lips under control.

Did he plan for this? Fuck, no! The Hideout is discreet, usually. They’re probably moving heaven and hell as they’re speaking, trying to figure out who snapped the pictures and sold them to the press. Whatever poor bastard did it will rue the day he ever set foot into the club.

But no place is ever truly safe, and they both know it. Steve better than him, probably. Being the only child of Hollywood’s most beloved celebrity couple, he was practically raised on the big screen. Steve had his first movie contracts under his belt before he could even walk, way before Eddie ever dreamed of picking up a guitar. Hell, if anyone is anybody’s sugarbaby here, it sure as hell isn’t Steve.

“Well,” Steve sighs. His hand has released its hold on the collar and is travelling up, tracing the shape of Eddie’s bobbing throat, the curve of his jaw. “At least one of us seems to be enjoying himself. Now, how do you plan on making it up to me, huh?”

Eddie turns his head, searching and finding Steve’s thumb and sucking it into his mouth. Steve makes a low, pleased sound from somewhere deep in his throat and Eddie’s neglected cock twitches.

“That’s your solution to everything, huh?” Steve murmurs. A foot pushes itself between Eddie’s thighs, and he moans, swirling his tongue around the finger in his mouth. “Sucking my cock? Well, I don’t think you’ve earned that today, have you?”

Eddie hollows his cheeks, bobbing up and down on Steve’s thumb while he grinds himself against Steve’s leg. If he looks pathetic and desperate enough, maybe Steve will change his mind.

Steve, as if he read his thoughts, laughs softly.

“God, the sight you make. Wish the fucking tabloids could see you like this. Maybe that’s what we should do, huh? Maybe I should get the leash and take you out. Maybe I should let them see what a dumb little slut you are.”

He won’t. Eddie knows he won’t. Unlike him, Steve still cares about both of their reputation. It's cute, in a way.

But God, the thought of it? The thought of Steve parading him around like this, naked and exposed for everyone to see? Feeling a dozen and more eyes on him, even with the blindfold on, burning into his skin while he kneels at Steve's feet, the perfect picture of discipline and obedience?

“You're actually getting off on that, huh?” Steve’s voice is a low, awed rumble. Eddie whines when the finger slides from his mouth, but Steve makes a soft shushing noise, cupping a hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer. The scent of his arousal is strong and heady, and the tip of his cock is slick as it nudges Eddie’s bottom lip. He opens up and eagerly presents his tongue. Waits.

Steve sighs, and the grip of his hand on Eddie’s neck goes a little gentler. “Alright already. You know I can't say no to you when you're like that. If you make it worth my while, I might consider letting you come.”

Eddie has every intention of making it worth his while.

He always does.

More Steddie Bingo

Ko-fi

[seat-safety-switch]

Most of life is about compromise. You can't always get what you want for dinner. You have to go to bed at a reasonable time. Sometimes you have to let the other guy win at a merge. By playing nicely with everyone else, we can keep civilization ticking nicely along. When someone fucks up this simple social contract, we shame them, and optionally burn them alive at a stake. It's that last part that we've lost.

Back in the ancient era, dickheads used to fear a public mob. You'd get a bunch of your drunkest buddies together and go torch the prick's house because they keep stepping on your pansies. Perhaps not the most reasonable way to deal with the problem, but it got the job done. Nowadays, that's not so acceptable. We established courts to make sure that we only fairly form an angry mob, for good reasons, and consistently.

Then the courts got really busy. They started picking up all these other laws that we had to worry about. Unnecessary shit like automobile equipment laws. Tail lights? I don't need tail lights! That's like three extra wires to run, man! All of a sudden, that little squabble you had with your neighbour is "not important enough" for the justice system to bother with. Even the cops won't come out, and point their guns at your oppressor for mashing a couple gladiolas with his AliExpress Doc Martens.

Back to vigilante justice? No. Remember, the entire reason of the court system is to provide the "proper" alternative to your drunken buddies torching a house for potentially-imagined slights. They're gonna take that as an existential threat, and punish your dumb ass substantially. Just like when you were working and then the junior intern came in and started doing that crazy new shit in PowerPoint that you don't know how to do, and your boss looked at you in the same way you look at a pile of human excrement on the sidewalk, and you had to do something and then he got fired for a bunch of crazy emails he sent to your boss while he was in the bathroom and his computer was unlocked. Just like that. What even is "WordArt," anyway?

In order for society to heal, we have to find a way to deal with these little petty grievances without alerting the attention of law enforcement. It is for this reason that cars exist. Remember, the courts are busy, and people get into car accidents all the fucking time. It's boring. Pretty much any moving violation will merit no more than a ticket, and that's only if you get caught. So go ahead: pay your Dodge Rammest buddy to do some donuts on the neighbour's lawn until you feel better. It's either this or total anarchy.

[e1e4n0r5]

The Wolf's Bride: Chapter 2

Masterlist, Chapter 1

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Ambessa Medarda x Targaryen-coded Princess Reader

Words: 2462

Synopsis: You learn the hard way what a Noxian wedding ceremony involves

Warnings: Forced marriage, ceremonial hand cutting, dub-con/non-con (forced public consummation), virgin reader, fingering (r! receiving), strap on (r! receiving), non-consensual choking/breath play

You gathered in what had once been the heart of your ancestral home.

The Main Hall, once filled with light, music, and your father’s court, now bore the banners of Noxus draped over crumbling stone. Your family’s throne had been removed. In its place stood a crude, hastily constructed altar of scarred and scorched wood.

The Noxian regiment stood in rows on either side, their armour blackened, their expressions hard. Behind them, your own people – servants, nobles, anyone who hadn’t been killed – stood silent, forced witnesses to your joining.

It didn’t feel like a wedding.

It was a funeral dressed in war paint.

Ambessa stood in front of the altar, polished, ceremonial. Her red cloak trailed behind her like the spilled blood still decorating the corridors. Her second-in-command – whose name you now knew to be Rictus – stood behind the altar, to perform the rites.

Your heart pounded as you walked down the aisle, trying to keep your hands from shaking. When you got to the front, you saw your parents standing at the side. Your mother looked exhausted, pale, almost struggling to stand. Your father, dressed in his ceremonial uniform, refused to look at you.

You came to stop at Ambessa’s side. She looked you up and down, but neither of you said anything.

“This union is not born of love,” Rictus intoned, voice echoing through the hall. “It will not be soft. It will not be gentle. It is forged in Noxian strength, and in Noxian strength it shall endure.”

Your hands were cold. Your breath came tight.

Rictus spoke in the Noxian language, then again in the common tongue. The words felt jagged in your ears, strange phrases about conquest and blood, obedience and loyalty. You barely registered them.

And then he produced the knife.

You tensed.

“Hold out your hand,” he said to you.

You looked to Ambessa, who did not hesitate.

She took hold of your left wrist, pulling you in close, and pinning you to her front.

You thrashed against her, but it did nothing. “No! Don't!” What were they doing?! Were they going to cut your hand off?! As some twisted act of victory!

She outstretched your hand toward him, flattened your palm by holding your fingers, keeping your hand still. He dragged the blade across your palm, making you cry out.

“Hush, child. You’re not a Noxian wife until you bleed beside me,” she scolded in your ear. Still holding you to her with her right arm, she extended her left hand to be cut too. When her palm was bleeding too, she gripped your left hands together.

“Say the words,” Rictus ordered.

You stared at him, numb.

“Say them,” Ambessa said again.

You choked them out, repeating Rictus' call-and-response in a hoarse, distant voice.

“I am bound…By steel and blood…To the strength that stands beside me.”

The ritual ended not with a kiss, but with iron rings placed on your right ring fingers, fitted by Ambessa like chains. You looked at the ring on your finger – somehow measured perfectly – as Rictus spoke more words. Dark grey metal, no jewels. Just the word ‘NOXUS’ engraved in the top. Like a collar.

Ambessa held out your cut hand for Rictus to wrap in black silk, tying it tight enough to apply pressure. You held your hand to your chest as he wrapped Ambessa’s. He finished speaking, then the Noxian soldiers cheered and pounded their breastplates.

It was done. The ceremony was over.

Or so you thought.

The Noxian soldiers started beating their chests in time, filling the room with a tense rhythm.

“W-What’s happening now, what are you doing?” you asked in a panicked whisper as Ambessa pulled you around to the side of the altar, lifting you up and pressing you onto your back.

“Marriages in Noxus are publicly consummated,” she explained smugly, pulling up your dress.

“What! No, stop!” you begged, trying to push her hands away. “Ambessa, please, I’ve never-”

She captured your hands in one of her own, leaning down to your face. “This will be much easier for you, little one, if you don’t resist.” You whimpered, your eyes filling with tears. “Besides, Noxian tradition also demands that the higher partner satisfy their new spouse, lest they be seen as an unfit head of the marriage. So, relax, child, and let me do my work,” she said in what she probably thought was a comforting tone.

You bit your lip to hide your sobs as she pulled down your underwear, slipping them into her back pocket. She opened her leather pants, releasing the black and gold strap she wore. Pulling a vial of oil out of her pocket, she slowly dribbled some onto your pussy. You gasped as she did.

“Breathe, little one,” she encouraged, running the tip of her large finger up and down your slit. You gasped when she rubbed a spot at the top of your pussy, making her smile in delight. “Do you not know what this is, child?” she asked, pressing the spot more firmly.

You inhaled sharply, shaking your head. “What are you doing?”

“Have you not been educated about your body?” she asked, leaning closer to you.

“That’s a…” you gasped again when the spot made you tremble inside, “That’s a husband’s role.”

She chuckled. “A Wife’s role, for you. But we’ll have a proper lesson at another time. For now, we must consummate.” She slid her finger inside you, making your back arch off the altar. “Relax. I must prepare you.”

“Prepare me for what?” you asked timidly.

“Oh, child,” she said, almost pityingly. “Do you really think this is all it takes?”

You blushed at her mocking, rocking your hips against her hand, even as you didn’t understand what she was doing. She slid another finger into your tight pussy, making you groan in protest.

“It's too much,” you whimpered.

“It's not as big as my strap, little one. It'll serve you well to relax and enjoy.”

She fucked her fingers into you, enticed by how your breasts bounced under your dress.

You didn't understand what was happening, but something in you was building, growing. You couldn't put it into words, but you felt like your insides were about to snap.

“General...?” you queried weakly.

She nodded down at you. “That's it, child. Welcome that feeling, let it wash over you.”

You nodded, dropping your head back onto the altar. Moans escaped from your throat as your eyes closed.

The band snapped. You cried out as your hips flexed against her hand, clamping down on her fingers inside you. She continued to thrust her hand, fucking you through it and making you see stars.

“Well done, child. You're ready now.”

You panted as she removed her fingers, watching as she examined them in the light, admiring the fluids you had leaked over her. You gasped when she put them in her mouth, sucking your juices off her digits, chuckling at your dismay.

“I’ll taste you later, little one. Now isn’t the time.” She tipped some oil onto her strap, stroking it along the length, looking hungrily at your pussy. “Are you ready for me?”

You trembled, shaking your head in fear.

She just laughed. “Well, you’ll have to be.” She aimed the tip of her strap at your wet hole, pressing in slowly.

You gasped and cried out, trying to move away. She held your hips firmly, keeping you in place as she pushed further inside you.

“It’s too big!” you begged, pushing back against her armoured stomach.

She pushed your hands away, still moving forward into your stretching virgin pussy. “You’ll take it, little queen. This is only the beginning.”

Tears leaked from your eyes as she finally bottomed out inside you. It hurt, you were so full. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this full, stuffed full of her strap. She held still for a moment, allowing your body time to adjust around her. It didn’t help much, but you appreciated the small gesture.

She started rocking her hips inside you, moving just a little, getting you used to the motion, the in and out of her strap. With a confused whimper, you found it pleasurable. You felt so full – too full – so why did it feel so good?

Ambessa chuckled above you, feeling your body relax under her. “There you go, child. Just feel my strap inside you, feeling it moving within. Don’t fight it,” she encouraged. She picked up your right hand, admiring your new ring for a second, before moving it down to your centre. She put two of your fingertips on top of that spot she had rubbed earlier. “Touch here, little queen.”

“How?” you asked quietly.

“Rub in circles, or press down gently. Whatever feels good.”

You experimented with your touch, feeling pleasure shoot through you as you rubbed and pressed, circling the spot. She started fucking you a little faster, enjoying watching you discover your clit as she filled you with her strap. She was impressed by how well you took it, especially for your first time.

“When you feel yourself building, like you did before, tell me.”

You nodded, moaning softly as your body rocked on the altar with her thrusts. She moved inside you, holding your thigh against her hip as you rubbed your spot, your back arching as your pussy throbbed and clenched around her.

“General…I need…”

“I know, little one,” she soothed, sliding her hand over your neck, rubbing her thumb over your skin. “Breathe deeply,” she instructed.

Your eyes closed as you breathed slowly and deeply, embracing the pleasure coursing through you.

Then she squeezed your neck.

Your eyes shot open in alarm, failing to gasp for breath as she restricted your air. Your hands shot up, grasping at her wrist, trying to pull it off you.

She shushed you softly, increasing the speed and force of her thrusts, fucking you properly. “Don’t panic, child. Keep touching yourself.”

You shook your head in fear, still trying to pull her hand away. How could you pleasure yourself now, she was trying to kill you!

She frowned at her, bending closer to your face. “Do as I say, little one. Now.”

Maybe if you obeyed, she’d release you and let you breathe?

You moved your shaking hand down to your pussy, rubbing that spot she’d shown you. The sensations were more intense than before, sending you to the edge. Your mouth trembled as you quickly climbed upwards, your legs starting to shake.

She smirked proudly. “Are you almost there, child?”

You nodded as best you could under her hand.

“On three, then. One…Two…Three.”

She released your throat.

You inhaled sharply.

And orgasmed over her strap, your juices squirting over her hips as stars swam through your vision. Your pussy clamped down fiercely as you gasped for breath, your hips thrashing under hers as you cried out.

“Well done, child,” she praised, fucking you through your second orgasm, only then allowing herself her own climax.

The door shut behind you with a heavy, final sound.

You stood still in the centre of your rooms, the fabric of your dress clinging damply to your skin, your hands stiff at your sides. The iron ring on your finger felt too tight, despite measuring perfectly earlier. Your palm still burned from the ceremonial cut under the black silk wrapped around it.

Siya was already inside, waiting.

She did not speak at first. Just approached slowly and reached for your shoulder with a gentleness that nearly broke you.

“You should wash,” Siya said softly, her voice sounding far away. “They said you have thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes. Not enough time to think. Not enough time to scream. Just enough time to be scrubbed clean of the ceremony and made presentable for the next performance.

You let yourself be guided.

You undressed in silence, your gown crumpling to the floor, your skin marked faintly in places you didn’t want to look at too long. The water in the basin was lukewarm, hastily drawn, steam barely rising from the surface. Siya soaked a cloth and pressed it to your shoulders, your back, your arms.

Neither of you said what you were thinking.

When Siya reached between your legs with the cloth, you flinched.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, eyes wide.

“It’s fine. Just-” you swallowed. “Please hurry.”

You both moved quickly after that. You dressed in the second gown made for you; dark red silk, thinner than the one you’d worn for the ceremony. Lighter, freer, but still carefully chosen. Still not your choice.

When you stood again before the mirror, Siya behind you, you barely recognized your own face. Pale, strained, too composed.

“You did well,” Siya whispered.

You didn’t reply.

You were a traitor. Moaning like a whore under the woman who conquered your city.

You walked the path back to the Main Hall like someone walking to the gallows. Your new Noxian guards flanked you again, silent and armoured. There were no cheers when you entered, only the roar of laughter, of tankards slamming against wooden tables, of warriors already deep into their celebrations.

The room smelled of sweat and spice, of roasting meat and spilled wine.

Ambessa was already seated at the long table at the front, her place carved out like a throne. She was laughing at something Rictus had said, a goblet in one hand.

You felt the moment your wife saw you.

Ambessa’s eyes dragged up and down your figure with a possessiveness that made the breath catch in your throat. Then she smiled. Like everything was exactly as it should be.

A seat had been prepared beside her.

You walked forward, each step measured, deliberate.

You didn’t bow. You didn’t lower your eyes.

And when you sat beside the woman who had burned your home, taken your father’s crown, and marked you with blood, you did so with grace.

It was the only weapon you had left.

“Drink,” Ambessa said, filling a second goblet and passing it to you. “You’re Noxian now. You need to learn to enjoy our feasts.”

You took the goblet, fingers light on the stem. You did not drink.

“You were brave today,” Ambessa said, her voice pitched lower. “I knew you would be.”

You looked ahead. Not at her. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Ambessa chuckled, settling back in her seat. “I know enough.”

The feast raged on around you, but you sat rigid and quiet, the wine untouched in your hand. Your body still ached, your skin still burned in places you would not acknowledge. And yet you sat tall, your chin raised, a picture of cold defiance in red silk.

A Noxian wife.

A conquered queen.

And you would endure.

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[rafeplay]

i don’t want anybody else

ft. rafe cameron x fem!reader

tags. age gap, babysitter reader, obsession i guess, ooc, mommy issues, mentions of slut shaming n misogyny, controlling rafe so nothing new, mentions of rape, angst, character study low-key, mention of smut

note. hai.. finished s4 today. sorry if anything is wrong i literally started the show like 5 days ago i think this is so overdue for my angelic mutual who this fic is dedicated 2… very disjointed towards the end ignore any typos or mistakes ab canon lore LMFAO unedited … feedback n rbs always so appreciated :3 was meant 2 be smut but I got bored LMFAO.. title from genitorturers song..

Having a crush on his childhood babysitter is probably the most normal thing Rafe Cameron has ever done. 

You were fifteen and he was five. You had braces and a pierced nose, and you never really paid attention to Rafe unless he was bleeding or breaking a bone. Which coincidentally he learned to do a lot. He tripped down so many stairs for you. 

You had a boyfriend that he bit for kissing you on his couch. Well. Rafe’s dad’s couch, but that’s, like, the same thing. 

You didn’t get to have a sweet sixteen, but you did come to his sixth birthday party with a fisher-price kitchen set. Rafe found great interest in the plastic knife that came with an airbrushed piece of toast. He asked to marry you after everybody went home and you were tossing paper plates into a garbage bag because his dad asked you to clean up. 

He used his mom’s ring and everything. He wasn’t allowed to touch mom’s stuff, but he did for you—And Sarah, of course it was fucking Sarah, she’s been a snitch since the day she was born, ran off to tattle on him. 

“Aw, Rafey.” You ruffled his hair like a dog. “You’re so sweet.”

Sweet.

He was sweet. 

(Being put in the naughty corner by dad after you left didn’t even ruin his night.)

You were the only consistent thing in his life. The only one that didn’t leave or change or shift affections. You came every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday after school like the sun. You told him his little-boy shampoo smelt good, you didn’t mind when he pulled at your clothes with sticky hands unlike Rose, you didn’t tell dad when he made Sarah cry, and you let him hold your hand, because even back then, he couldn't not be close to you. 

When he was seven one of the older boys at school called you a skank, none of his friends heard, but Rafe did. It rang out in the playground like a gunshot, and for the first time his teachers brought up his ‘anger issues’ and ‘antisocial behaviour’ to Ward. 

After school, you came over, didn’t mention his bruised knuckles or the little pout on his face. 

You just said: “Wanna see something cool?” 

He nodded which prompted you to lift your tank top. 

Rafe covered his eyes, and then he peeked through the gaps in his fingers.

“I’m not showing you my boobs, idiot!” You laughed. “I got my bellybutton pierced.” 

And Rafe, at just seven years old, looked at the offending piece of jewellery and thought: skank like it was a diagnosis. He didn’t really know what it meant, just that the boys at school meant it in a bad way, and that he was feeling a bad thing in his chest like he did when dad let Sarah pick the movie on movie night, like he did when he saw mom in hospital, like he did when dad married Rose. 

The bad feeling he felt after he stole your cheetah-print thong and stashed it in his pillowcase. The bad feeling he felt when he told dad what he saw you doing with that boy in the guest room. The bad feeling he felt when you got fired. He watched through the banisters as Ward gave you a stern talking to and you cried and said sorry a lot.

And then you turned eighteen and you left for college. You didn’t say goodbye. You had a goodbye party, but Rafe wasn’t invited, and he took that very personally. Even when it was explained to him a handful of times that it was for teenagers and grownups. 

Here’s the thing, just because you toss an old toy out, it doesn’t mean you can’t miss it from time to time. And fuck. He missed you everyday for six years. 

Rafe missed you at ten when the new babysitter didn’t have hair as nice as yours or skin as soft and cotton candy-scented as yours. She didn’t let him watch Jeepers Creepers 1 or 2. At eleven when he got sent to the counsellor for drawing boobs in the margins of his schoolbook - they said he had issues with boundaries. At twelve when he wet the bed again and dad looked at him funny. At thirteen when his voice finally broke. He missed you at fourteen when he did his first line off the counter in the boys bathroom, it hurt so much he thought he was dying, his nose was bleeding, and all he wanted was you so he did another line. 

You came home a week later. Older, but not any taller, well-travelled, a tattoo in a foreign language on your hip, a ring on your finger. 

“Holy shit, you’re so big now!” You smiled up at him. “Gosh, you were like up to my hip before, how old are you now? Like thirteen? Fourteen?”

What grade are you in? How’s Sarah? Shit, Wheezie must be like in elementary now, she was a toddler the last time I saw her. You still bad at math? Are you guys still living in the Tannyhill place? 

The whole time you talked Rafe wondered if you would still catch him if he threw himself down a flight of stairs, even at this age, at this size. Would you take care of any self-inflicted splinters? Would you still wipe his ass if he asked? 

“What’s that?” He asked, not impolitely, bluntly, pointing at your shiny ring.

“Oh, this?” You smiled at him again, differently this time, in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. You smiled at everyone when you were younger, mostly boys your age, maybe that’s why it was so easy to call you a skank. “From my fiancé actually—I met him in Thailand, we stayed in the same hostel, he said he'd meet me back here soon, it’s a whole thing.”

He wanted to say something mean. Call your boyfriend a loser, ask if he had a job or a real degree, if he knew how much of a skank you used to be. 

Rafe said none of that, he retreated when his dad came over to greet you, give you a big hug, welcome you home, congratulate you on the engagement. 

“Look at you, god, you got so pretty,” Ward said, like he hadn't kicked you out of his house all those years ago, “lucky, lucky man wherever he is.” 

Wherever he is may he fucking die. May an earthquake or a flood or some natural disaster sweep him into the ocean so he can never find his way back to you. 

Nothing goes Rafe’s way so your fiancé arrived, and he was fucking great. He was a really, really nice guy. Even for a Pogue. He knew how to bartend, he made everyone laugh, and he had cool stories about tropical places. 

You got married three years later. When you had enough money for a wedding. Rafe was seventeen. If he was eighteen maybe it would’ve gone a little differently. 

Rafe Cameron, Kildare County’s most eligible bachelor; pedigree, privileged, and poisoned. Money wouldn’t be a problem with him. 

“I’m so glad you came,” you cooed to Rafe, gave him a great big hug, pet his head. “Rafe asked me to marry him once,” you told your husband, “it was so cute, his ring was even nicer than this one, he got down on one knee and awww—“

It wasn’t a fucking joke. 

Rafe was serious then and serious now. 

By the time Rafe was eighteen, you and your husband were on a ‘break.‘ You took off your ring when you came to the bar all the way over in Figure Eight. You talked to other men. They paid attention to you because you had nice tits, and Rafe would know because he liked them first. He liked them before he even knew why he liked them. 

“Rafe?” You tapped him on the shoulder, he was sweating through his linen button-up. “What are you doing?”

“What?” He blinked at you, glassy-eyed. “Nothing.” 

“Rafe,” you warned like you used to when he wouldn’t go to bed on time, when he climbed on the kitchen counters, “what are you doing?”

Are you using something? Rafe. Look at me now. C’mon. Did you drink or is it something else? You know you shouldn’t be here, right? Who let you in? Rafe, who let you in? Please, tell me.

The lights got too bright, everything was pulsing and burning. “Why do you… Why do you care?” He breathed out, a rivulet of sweat taking the path down his nose, fists balled up by his sides.

“Why do I care?“ Your voice broke in your throat, angry, and maybe a little bit heartbroken. “Rafe, are you kidding me?” You cupped his face and it made him so upset, somerhing inside of him burned as if you’d put his heart in a kiln. “Go home.”

“No,” he scoffed, childish and bitter, elbowing you off of him.

“Rafe, listen—“

“No, you listen.” He shoved you back, got a rush from the way you looked up at him like he’d struck you. “I’m not… I’m not a little kid anymore, okay? You can’t just tell me what to do.”

“You sound a lot like a little kid right now, Rafe,” you bit back, chest rising and falling like you were really mad. 

You were mad at him.

“Well,” Rafe said, blinking hard, “well, I’m not.” 

He was taller now, bigger, older, and he needed you to see it—He needed you to understand that there was nothing that any other man could do to you that he couldn’t do too. Touch you. Fuck you. Love you. Use you. Dump you. Break you. 

“C’mon, let me take you home,” you murmured, placating him with a gentle hand on his back, rubbing back and forth. Muscle memory.

You used to put him to bed that way. 

“What would your dad think if he saw you like this, huh?” You settled him into the passenger seat of your beaten up car, fastened his seatbelt like you used to. He remembered pretending to fall asleep so you would carry him inside. So he could feel and smell and touch you for just a little longer. 

“Don’t care.” Rafe shrugged, sullen, defiant. He looked out the window, jaw tightening. 

The porch lights turned on when you pulled into the drive, and no one was there waiting up for him, no warm family welcome. If Sarah was ten minutes past curfew dad would send out a fucking search party. 

You untied his laces like he was five again, put an arm around his waist when he sagged into you, took him upstairs, sat him on the edge of the bed, got him a glass of water. Like fucking clockwork. Like you were so used to taking care of him—You’d been gone for so long and you still knew what he liked. 

He slumped back into the pillows you fluffed up and caught a glimpse of something he probably wasn’t meant to see in the glow of the lamplight. 

You were bent over grabbing your purse, dress riding up - no underwear at all. The dress was a concern to Rafe in the first place, too sheer, too short—But this—This is when Rafe grasped that truly and honestly you were a skank. 

You didn’t respect yourself, so who was gonna to do it for you? 

It certainly wasn't going to be Rafe. 

“Oh no.” You sprung up, tugged on the hem to do last minute damage control even though he had seen it all and his silence confirmed that. “Oh no, oh god, I’m so sorry.” 

Your eyes were so wide. Mortified. Terrified that he would snitch to his father once again. Get you in trouble for being so lonely and open. 

“Oh, Rafe, god, I’m so—I’m really sorry.” You edged towards him, toeing over that imaginary line when you sat on his bed. “I wasn’t even thinking.” 

Rafe shrugged like his palms weren’t clammy. “You think I haven’t seen one?” One what? A girl? A pussy? A tit? His heart was going a million miles per second. 

“I don’t know! I don’t want to think about that!” You reached your hand out and then retracted it. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m gonna go, you should go to sleep.”

“No,” Rafe said quietly, and then louder, firmer, “no.” He took your hand, squeezed, and then let go of your fingers to grasp your wrist. He didn’t want to hold hands anymore, he wanted to keep you like a balloon, tightening his grip so you didn’t float away. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked softly, and see—This is all that was wrong with you. 

You were looking at him like he was still five and scared of monsters under the bed, like he couldn’t sleep without a nightlight. 

“You think…You think I haven’t seen a girl before?” His voice shook as he spoke, a divot forming between his brows as frowned at the lines on your palm. “I’ve seen tons—I’ve, I’ve fucked them all, okay? I could fuck any fucking girl I want—“

“Okay, okay, Rafe, I’m sorry,” you laughed, a little taken aback, still not taking him seriously, trying to defuse his anger, rock him back to sleep by dismissing him, “I know you’re not a kid anymore, but you still are little to me—“ 

“No, no, no, no.” Rafe shook his head frantically, hair falling in his eyes, he took your other wrist, squeezing both of them tight enough to feel your quickening pulse. “Let me speak—Let me fucking speak.”

You blinked at him. Lips parted. Eyes wide. And you must’ve finally got it. That he could do whatever he wanted to you now. He could hold you down, cover your mouth if you tried to scream. 

“I’m not little, I’m not little, I’m not,” he murmured feverishly, “look at me.” 

You looked away so he grabbed your face and when you flinched Rafe found himself liking it. Gave him a better rush than any fucking drug. 

“Look at me,” he repeated lowly, one big hand gripping your jaw so hard it must’ve hurt, “fucking look at me, I’m not little anymore, you know that?” 

You nodded quickly, breathlessly.

“Tell me you know that.” 

“I know, Rafe…” You said meekly. 

Surrendered.

And it sounded so fucking nice. 

You looked so beautiful with your shoulders up by your ears like a spooked cat, fingers twitching in your lap ‘cause you didn’t quite know what to do with them. 

“Good...” Rafe nodded slowly, and then he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Good.” 

He was eighteen and a half when you let him fuck you. You let him push you against the wall and mouth at your throat and you pulled his hair instead of petting it. He groaned so low - all the way in the back of his throat like a dog - it rattled your teeth. 

You’d given up on correcting people anytime they called him your boyfriend by the time he was nineteen. Rafe started showing up everywhere. Work. Your apartment. To the bar. To girls nights. Family events. That way you had to acknowledge him, he wasn’t just a kid you could brush off anymore. 

He’d gotten too big, too loud, being clingy wasn’t cute or charming anymore like it was when he was six. It was ‘fucking creepy’ and ‘obsessive’ apparently. 

Tonight you’re going out for drinks with ‘coworkers’ so naturally Rafe goes and gets in a fight outside Barry’s place with a junkie twice his size. He comes home with a bloody nose and watches you watch him in the bathroom mirror as you put your makeup brush down. 

“What is that?” You sigh, shoulders sagging. Before, taking care of Rafe was your duty, now it’s just a chore.  

“What’s it look like?”

“You got into another fight.” 

“Mm.” He shrugs. “So what?” 

“Hm.” You shrug. “So, I think you’re being a dick—I think you’re fucking...” You trail off, shaking your head. “Clean up and get out, okay?”

Rafe throws his hands in the air. “Say it. Go on. I’m fucking crazy, right?” 

“I didn’t say that, Rafe.” 

“You were gonna say that—I can fuckin’ tell, I’m not, I’m not stupid.” He gets all up in your face, and you’ve gotten so used to it you barely flinch. 

You reach out and brush your thumb over his cheek. He’s five again. “You wanna scream at me, Rafe? You wanna cry? Break something again, baby?” 

He doesn’t answer. Blinks a lot. Breathes too fast. 

“You wanna hit me? Hurt me? Scare me so I never fucking talk to anyone? You want me to stay inside like some fucking prisoner?” You’re talking to him so quietly, softly almost, like he’s just shown you a drawing you’re going to stick to the fridge. “Go ahead, do it.” 

Rafe’s mouth opens like he might. Like he really might do all of it. 

But he doesn’t. 

“Poor baby,” you coo, patting his sweaty cheek, “you’d lose your mind before you let me go.” 

[deen-djarin]

Soft Reins — Day Four

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Pairings: Groudskeeper/Rancher ! Joel miller x City girl ! Reader

Summary: Joel tries very hard to pull away, you won’t let him.

Tags: 18+, yearning, tension, a teensy bit of angst, reader frustrated with joel lol, crass language, p in v, creampie, mutual masturbation, cunningulus, absolute FILTH

Word count: 8,9k

a/n i’m so nervous to post this piece of cliterature lmao but…enjoy

Joel barely had time to exhale after you walked away, lips still tingling, head spinning, before he heard Tommy’s boots crunching hard against the gravel behind him.

“You outta your goddamn mind?” Tommy snapped, voice low and sharp.

Joel turned just enough to look at him. “Don’t start.”

“I will start, Joel,” Tommy said, stepping closer, eyes flashing. “I saw that. I saw you leanin’ in. What the hell were you thinkin’, huh?”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “She asked me to come with into town. I went. That’s it.”

“Oh, that’s it?” Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Looked a hell of a lot like more than just errands. You almost kissed her outside the staff entrance.”

Joel didn’t answer. He looked away, jaw tight.

Tommy shook his head. “You think nobody else is gonna notice that? You think you can get away with sneakin’ around with one of them?”

“She’s not like them,” Joel muttered.

Tommy’s voice snapped. “She’s exactly like them. Rich, bored, here for a week of cowboy fantasy before she gets bored and flies back to wherever the hell she came from. And you? You’re just the help, Joel. That’s all we are.”

Joel’s fists curled at his sides.

Tommy pressed on. “You know who isn’t gonna be so forgiving? The company that owns this place. We’re already on thin ice with them. You remember the last email? They flagged your fuel receipts. Your overtime hours. They’re watching us.”

Joel shifted his weight like the truth of it physically weighed him down.

“All it takes is one mistake and they’ll gut this place,” Tommy continued, quieter now, more furious than loud. “Replace us with cheaper labor, roll us out like some damn theme park. You think they’ll keep you on if they find out you’re messin’ around with a guest? That I’ll keep my job?”

“You gonna risk all this for a fling?” Tommy sighed, his hands on his hips.

“I ain’t messin’ around,” Joel muttered.

Tommy threw his hands up. “Oh, that makes it better. Christ, Joel. You know better than that, hell- you taught me better than that.”

Joel didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Because it wasn’t just about the kiss, or the girl, or the ranch. It was about how he looked at her. And how much he already knew it wasn’t going away.

Tommy shook his head like he was too tired to keep fighting. “You need to end it. Before someone else sees.”

Then he turned and walked off toward the main building, boots loud against the quiet.

“And get those damn groceries to the kitchen, they waitin’ on you,” Tommy said before he closed the staff door with a loud slam.

Joel stayed where he was.

Heart thudding. Mind racing.

Hands still curled in fists, aching from holding back more than just a kiss

“Joel? Joel—”

Maria’s voice cut sharply through his thoughts. He blinked, eyes snapping back into focus.

“Yeah? Sorry, I was uh—”

“Yeah, yeah, focus up,” she said, waving a dismissive hand as she turned toward the gathered staff. A dozen or so stood in a loose semi-circle near the barn, coffee cups in hand, squinting against the morning sun.

“Alright, folks, today’s the big day,” Maria continued, voice carrying clear and firm. “The  grandparents’ wedding anniversary celebration—fifty years married, if you can believe it.” A couple of the staff gave soft chuckles or murmured impressed sounds.

“Tommy and I will be manning the main festivities up by the lodge,” she went on. “We’ve got lawn games, a live band coming in at five, and a photo booth being set up near the pergola.”

Joel shifted his weight, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. His eyes flicked toward the lodge involuntarily.

Maria caught the glance but didn’t comment, just pressed on. “Joel, you’re on standby today. Float between spots, make sure everything’s running smooth, supplies, crowd flow. If anything needs fixin’, I’m expectin’ you to be two steps ahead of it.”

He gave a tight nod. “Got it.”

Her gaze lingered on him for half a second longer, as if she wanted to say more, then let it go.

“Alright, let’s make it a good one. We want them talkin’ about this for years—no slip-ups, no surprises.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. No surprises. 

Joel gave Maria a stiff nod and watched the rest of the staff scatter, voices already fading as they moved toward the event setup near the main lawn. He stood still for a moment longer, rubbing his hands together like he could work the tension out through his palms.

Standby.

Right.

That meant stay outta trouble. Stay visible, but not too visible. Be helpful, but don’t get in the way.

Mostly, don’t get caught staring at her.

He exhaled hard through his nose and turned, heading toward the barn. From where he stood, he could already see the cluster of white tents going up on the front lawn, tables being rolled out, folding chairs carried by two and threes.

He caught a glimpse of her. Just for a second.

She was standing at the edge of the setup, not far from her family. Dress light and summery, hair tied back. She looked like she belonged there—comfortable, confident, laughing at something her cousin said.

If Joel had any sense at all, he’d take that image and walk away.

But his eyes lingered.

God, she looked good when she smiled. And he knew, he knew what she tasted like when she whispered his name. He could still feel her hands in his shirt, still hear that breathless sound she made when he kissed her like it was the only way to stop himself from falling apart.

“You gonna risk all this for a fling?”

Tommy’s words from last night snapped through his mind like a whip. The pressure from corporate had been ramping up—calls, emails, reminders about “professional boundaries” and “guest satisfaction metrics.” The kind of stuff that made Joel’s stomach turn.

They didn’t care about this place. Not like he and Tommy did.

And if anyone caught wind of Joel getting too close to one of the vacationers—especially someone from that family?

They’d lose more than their pride.

He muttered a curse under his breath and turned his back to the main lawn. There was work to do. Things to fix. A dozen ways to keep busy, keep useful, keep away.

But even as he grabbed a toolbox and made for the far fence line, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting.

To her.

To last night.

To what might’ve happened if he didn’t stop himself. 

And to what might still happen, if he didn’t find a way to shut this down soon.

You were dressed in a soft pastel sundress, pale yellow with fluttery straps — color-coordinated with the rest of your family, of course. Your mother had laid it out the night before and made a big deal about how “fresh” and “youthful” it looked on you. You smiled, nodded, played the part. Because that’s what today was about: showing up, smiling for pictures, and making sure the grandparents’ anniversary looked like a spread out of a lifestyle magazine.

You stuck close to Amy when you could, let her little ones distract you, let her husband make you laugh. But your parents — and most of the extended family — seemed weirdly unwilling to let you out of their sight. Maybe it was because you vanished yesterday. Maybe it was the lie you gave this morning over coffee, something about allergies and heat exhaustion. Amy backed it up without hesitation. But still, they hovered. Like something was off.

And they were right. You were off.

Because he was here. You had seen him.

Joel.

Not a ghost or a memory — not a maybe — but here. In the crowd. Just far enough to keep his distance, just close enough that it hurt. 

You spotted him midmorning during the lawn games — off to the side helping Maria set up canopies and tables. Later again near the stables, talking to a wrangler. Then during the first round of speeches, when he walked right behind your group to move something, eyes fixed anywhere but on you.

It was maddening. He was right there. Always there. But not once did he meet your eyes. Not once did he even acknowledge you.

And after everything that happened in that barn — after that kiss, after the way he held you like he never wanted to let go — it felt like being gutted.

You wanted to scream. Or grab him by the collar and shake him. Or kiss him again until he stopped pretending it didn’t matter.

You tried not to let it show. You smiled when your aunt asked if you were feeling better. You clinked your champagne glass when your grandparents gave a speech. You let your little cousins drag you into a three-legged race that ended with grass stains and polite applause.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Every time you caught a glimpse of him — the shape of his shoulders, the familiar way he moved — your chest ached. It wasn’t the distance that killed you.

It was the fact that he was close.

So damn close.

And still choosing to stay far.

The whole day had been a carefully orchestrated performance. You were paraded around the anniversary festivities like a show pony, smiling through group photos, politely declining seconds of cake, and trying to laugh at your uncle’s jokes.

And through it all, Joel had been right there.

Not gone. Not out of reach. Just maddeningly near—crossing the lawn with chairs slung over his shoulder, fixing up the microphone setup with those steady hands, talking to guests with that low voice that made your chest ache.

But not once, not once, did he look your way.

By midafternoon, it was getting pathetic.

You weren’t even being subtle anymore. First, you hung around the drink table while he was checking the ice buckets—stood there like an idiot with your empty glass, waiting for him to maybe glance your way. He didn’t.

Then you tried passing by the barn on your way to “nowhere in particular,” slowing your steps when you spotted him talking to another staff member outside. He looked up… but not at you. Right past you, like you were part of the scenery.

Each time it happened, your stomach sank deeper.

At lunch, you’d even dared to linger a little too long behind your family’s table as he walked past. You swore you saw him hesitate, like he’d felt you there. But he never turned around.

It was driving you crazy.

And the worst part was that he was everywhere. Helping with the sound system, adjusting the decorations, talking to Maria and Tommy near the games tent—always just close enough to make you feel like a ghost.

You weren’t sure what pissed you off more: that he wouldn’t talk to you, or that no one else seemed to notice your unraveling. Amy had given you one long side-eye after the third time you sighed too hard during croquet, but even she hadn’t pressed.

You ended up sitting beside your grandmother on a shaded bench near the flower arrangements, your aperol spritz sweating in your hand as you watched the party unfold across the lawn. And you watched him lean over the fences with that infuriating, effortless focus—while you were stuck pretending you weren’t waiting for something. Anything

You couldn’t take much more of this. You took another sip, eyes narrowing over the rim of your glass. Your stomach had been twisting all day and you weren’t sure if it was from frustration, nerves, or last night’s kiss still echoing in your body like a secret.

“You’re fidgeting,” your grandmother said beside you, her voice soft and amused.

You stilled, startled. “Sorry.”

She smiled faintly. “Don’t apologize. Just makes me think something’s eating at you.”

You shrugged, setting your drink down beside you. “It’s nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart. That’s the tone of someone lying through their teeth.”

You sighed, staring out at the party. “I guess I’m just a little… off today.”

“Off how?” she asked, not pressing but still watching you closely.

You hesitated. “Yesterday I wasn’t feeling well. Allergies or something.”

“I know,” she said gently. “But that’s not what I meant.”

There was a pause. The music from the band drifted through the warm air, cheerful and at odds with the knot in your chest.

“I saw the way you’ve been looking over there,” she murmured, like she was talking about the weather. “At the man in the work shirt.”

Your head snapped toward her. “Gams—”

“I’m old, not blind,” she said, chuckling. “I’ve been around enough young people to know a look when I see one.”

You flushed, heart stumbling. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” she said lightly, lifting her glass of lemonade. “Then why does your face look like it’s on fire?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to swallow the heat rising up your neck. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh, honey.” She patted your knee. “If it wasn’t, it probably wouldn’t be worth it.”

You looked down at your lap. “He’s just… ignoring me. Pretending nothing happened.”

“But something did,” she said gently.

Your throat tightened. You didn’t answer.

Your grandmother leaned back, watching the crowd. “He looks like the type who takes a while to make up his mind. But once he does…” She gave a small smile. “Well. Men like that don’t do things halfway.”

You glanced over, unable to help yourself. Joel was standing near the band now, arms crossed, listening to Maria talk. He still wouldn’t look your way.

You clenched your hands in your lap.

“You can’t chase a man like that, sweetheart,” your grandmother said softly. “But you don’t have to sit here letting him think you’ve given up either.”

You turned to her, surprised.

She winked. “I won’t tell your mama. Now go take a walk or something before you combust.”

You grinned and murmured “Thanks gams,” as you rose up from your seat.

You walked off without telling anyone, weaving through the crowd until you spotted him at the edge of it all. Joel stood by the fence, arms crossed over his chest, watching the festivities like he was somewhere else entirely.

You stepped up beside him, just a few feet away, careful not to touch.

“Joel,” you said, quiet and even.

He didn’t look at you, just replied your name in that same low, unreadable tone.

You shifted your weight, watching the rolling hills beyond the ranch, trying to act like your heart wasn’t pounding.

“So—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, cutting you off.

You glanced at him, brows drawing together. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just talking to you.”

His jaw worked. “Doesn’t matter.”

You turned fully now, facing him. “Can’t we just talk, Joel?”

He finally looked at you—and that was all it took. One glance. His eyes flicked to yours, and something in him faltered.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, turning away slightly like he needed to shield himself from you.

“Why can’t I look at you?” you asked.

“Because I don’t trust myself when you do.”

You swallowed. “Then say something that makes this easier.”

He shook his head, fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “There’s no way to make this easy. For either of us.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, voice steadier now.

“I’ve been keepin’ my distance,” he corrected gruffly.

“Same difference.”

His eyes finally found yours again, and this time he didn’t look away. “You want me to pretend like that kiss didn’t mess me up?” he said lowly. “Like I haven’t been thinkin’ about it every damn minute since?”

Your breath caught, hope flaring too fast, too hot.

“But that don’t change the fact that this is wrong.”

“Then tell me to leave,” you challenged, voice trembling. “Say it and I’ll walk away.”

He didn’t say it.

He just stared at you, jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked. And for a second, you swore he was going to close the distance between you again.

But he didn’t. He stepped back.

“I can’t do this here,” he said, voice strained. “Not now. Not with all of them watchin’.”

You watched his back as he turned and walked off, leaving you by the fence—burning with everything you didn’t get to say.

“Then where?” you asked, folding your arms tight against your chest, trying to steady your breath. “If I shouldn’t be here, then tell me where.”

Joel’s eyes flicked toward you, jaw working. “Don’t do this here,” he muttered, glancing around like someone might catch you just standing too close.

“I’m not trying to start anything,” you said, voice low. “I just want to talk.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, then dragged a hand over his mouth. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. You could see the war in him clear as day—shoulders tense, gaze darting anywhere but your face.

You softened. “Joel…”

He finally looked at you, like he couldn’t help it anymore. And it made your stomach twist, the way he did. Like you were gravity and he was just tired of fighting it.

He hesitated, then said gruffly, “Later. After dark. Back of the stables.”

Your heart jumped, but you kept your voice even. “Okay.”

His eyes lingered a second longer—more than he should’ve allowed—before he turned, muttering, “Don’t be late.”

And just like that, he was gone again.

By sunset, you sat quietly at the long outdoor dining table, your half-empty glass of wine cradled between your hands. The golden hour stretched lazily over the lawn, turning everything syrupy warm—soft light, long shadows, and the low hum of cicadas joining the smooth sway of the band the family had hired.

From your seat, you watched the couples—your aunts, uncles, even your parents—moving slowly together on the grass. Arms around waists, heads leaned on shoulders, the occasional kiss on a cheek. Everyone looked perfectly content in their little matched sets, like a catalog shoot for love and stability.

You let out a small sigh and glanced to your left, then to your right. Your cousins were either off dancing with their partners or had migrated inside to tuck their kids into bed. All that was left at your end of the table was a crumpled napkin, your untouched slice of cake, and a few younger teens still absorbed in their phones.

Great. You were officially at the kiddie table.

You fiddled with your fork, pretending not to notice how alone you felt. Not lonely, exactly—just… extra. Like a place setting someone forgot to clear. You’d smiled and chatted and laughed through dinner, but now that the music had started and the stars were coming out, the ache set in a little deeper. Everyone had someone.

Except you.

You picked at the edge of your dessert plate, dragging your fork through the icing like it might offer some kind of distraction. The music shifted to a slower tune—something older, probably chosen by your grandparents—and the band’s singer let her voice fall into a smoky hum. It floated across the lawn like something delicate and private, made just for the couples still swaying out there in the twilight.

You rested your chin in your hand, watching your uncle dip your aunt dramatically, both of them laughing like teenagers. You didn’t even realize you were smiling a little until it faded.

It wasn’t about needing a dance partner. You weren’t aching for someone to grab your hand and spin you under the stars.

But it still stung.

Because you used to have that—someone who made you feel chosen, even in a crowd. And then he cheated, and the memory of it left a bruise that hadn’t quite faded.

Now, just as you’d started to feel something new tug at your heart, and you let it do. Just when you thought you found something that felt real, he pulled away.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe love just didn’t run in your blood the same way it did for the rest of your family.

Your eyes drifted to the edge of the lawn—toward the darker part of the path leading out to the barns and stables, past the halo of lights strung up in the trees. You squinted, unsure what you were hoping to see.

Nothing moved.

You looked back down at your plate and pushed it away.

Maybe you’d just go for a walk. Clear your head. Maybe circle by the stables, totally casually. No big reason. Just some air.

You told yourself it wasn’t about anyone. It was just a long day. You were restless. That was all.

You stood quietly and slipped away from the table  before anyone could ask where you were going.

You found yourself wandering toward the stables. It was quiet—emptier than usual. The hush was almost comforting.

You made your way to Dolly’s pen.

“Hey, Dolly,” you murmured.

She huffed softly, poking her head over the gate. You smiled and ran your hand gently along the side of her face.

“You get lonely too?” you asked with a quiet chuckle.

Dolly blinked slowly, like she understood.

“Yeah…” you sighed. “I’m talking to a horse,” you added, half-laughing at yourself.

Then came the sound—heavy footsteps on gravel.

You turned your head and saw Joel in the doorway, pausing like he hadn’t expected to see you just yet.

“Oh… you’re here already,” he said, surprised.

“Oh. Right… that,” you murmured. “Sorry, I was just wandering around…and now I'm here.”

He stepped in a little closer, eyes landing on you, then Dolly.

“You were talkin’ to her?”

You let out a breath and nodded. “She’s good company,” you said softly.

Joel leaned against the wall beside you, close but not touching. You didn’t look at him when you asked,

“You done avoiding me now?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“It’s not that simple, sugar,” he said eventually.

You huffed. “Figured you’d say something like that.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

He paused, eyes still on Dolly, like it was easier than looking at you.

“Something like this…” he started, voice low, “it doesn’t end good.”

“And you’re so sure about that?” you asked, not hiding the sting in your voice.

“Yes, I’m sure.” His voice was firmer now. “You’re one of them. The guests. I work here. That’s not somethin’ I can just pretend don’t matter.”

You stared at him. He kept going.

“I’m too old for this kind of risk,” he muttered. “Too old for you,” he added.

You turned your head to him, finally really looking at him. He was staring at the ground like he was counting every stray piece of hay, doing anything not to meet your eyes.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” you said softly.

“Joel, I’m not asking you to quit your job or run away with me. I’m not asking you to marry me.” You let out a quiet breath. “It’s just… what I felt with you…this connection…it’s real. And I haven’t felt something real in a long time.”

”Maybe it’s stupid, selfish even,” you looked down, voice even smaller now. “But I just wanted to feel again.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but you could feel the silence shift—charged, heavy with everything he wasn’t saying. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he stood still, battling himself.

Then, finally, he stepped closer. Slow, deliberate. Until he was right in front of you, his presence blocking out everything else.

His hand, rough and warm, tilted your chin up. You met his eyes, and this time, he didn’t look away. He studied you, quiet and searching, like he was trying to see through the layers, to make sure this wasn’t some fleeting whim. And whatever he saw in you—it was enough.

“You sure about this, sugar?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He exhaled, thumb brushing gently along your bottom lip. “No one can know,” he murmured.

You nodded.

Then finally, finally, he leaned in. And when his lips found yours, it was soft, careful at first. Like a secret. Like something sacred. And it made you feel real, in the most aching, beautiful way.

You kissed him back—slow at first, but aching, hungry beneath the surface. Your hands slid around the back of his neck, pulling him closer like you couldn’t get enough, and you couldn’t 

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, then suddenly pressed you back against the stable wall, his mouth claiming yours in a deeper, needier kiss. His hands were on you—one at your waist, the other cupping the side of your face with a surprising gentleness that contrasted the urgency of his lips.

You let out a soft, involuntary moan, fingers tangling in his hair. And as your lips parted on that breath, he didn’t hesitate—his tongue swept into your mouth, slow but sure, coaxing yours to meet him in a rhythm that made your knees weak.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, your breaths came shallow and uneven, lips still tingling. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting eyes that had gone darker—stormy with something unspoken, something barely restrained.

“Fuck, sugar…” he breathed, his forehead resting against yours like he needed the contact just to steady himself. His voice was rough, low, wrecked. “You make it damn hard to be a gentleman.”

His hands, still holding you like you might slip away, slid slowly from your waist down to your hips—fingers splaying, grounding himself in the feel of you. The touch made your breath catch, your stomach flutter.

You didn’t say anything—couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. Not with the way your whole body was already leaning back in, ready for more.

Then you grew bold and whispered, “I don’t want you to be.”

He let out a deep, rumbling groan from his chest, a sound of pure, unchecked desire. Before you could even process it, his lips were back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that stole your breath. "You're fucking trouble," he muttered against your mouth, his voice a low, strained rasp. You could only moan in response, your body melting under his touch, your core clenching with need.

His calloused hand slid down to grip your thigh, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. In one swift, decisive move, he hitched your leg up to wrap around his lean hip, pulling you impossibly closer. You gasped as you felt the thick, hard length of him pressing against your stomach, a promise of what was to come. "Joel," you sighed, your voice a needy whimper, drunk on the feeling of him.

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, a tortured sound filled with lust and longing. "Fuck, baby, you can’t keep making noises like that," he panted, his breath hot against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured “tell me to stop before i drag you to my cabin and fuck you propper.” 

“Fuck,” you panted then bit your lip, “Don’t stop.”

With a sense of urgency, he took your hand in his, practically dragging you out of the stables. He paused at the door, peeking left and right like a man on a mission, ensuring the coast was clear. Then, with a tug of your hand, he led you quickly down the narrow path towards his staff cabin, nestled at the edge of the property.

You had to jog to keep up with his long strides, your heart pounding in your chest as anticipation coiled tight in your belly. The cool evening air rushed past you, but it only seemed to fuel the fire burning under your skin, the fire he had ignited with his touch.

He rushed you inside his cabin, locking the door behind you with a decisive click. You barely had a second to register your surroundings before his mouth was back on yours, hungry and insistent. His hands found your waist, guiding you backward with practiced ease, step by step, until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed. You tumbled gently onto the soft mattress, breath catching, heart racing.

Joel stood over you for a beat, gaze sweeping over the sight of you spread out before him, as if committing it to memory.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve thought about this, sugar,” he murmured, voice rough as gravel.

He climbed onto the bed, his broad frame caging you in, a question lingering in his eyes. “Last chance to back out,” he said lowly. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” you whispered. “Please.”

A deep groan escaped him, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing skin, then teeth—trailing kisses and teasing nips that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“If we’re doin’ this,” he murmured against your throat, “I’m doin’ it right.”

“Right?” you breathed.

“Mm,” he hummed, mouth sliding lower to your collarbone. “Means I’m gonna take my time. Gonna make you cum at least twice before I even think about slippin’ inside you.”

The way he said it—those dirty words wrapped in that low Southern drawl—made your whole body tense with need. You felt your breath catch as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes searching yours, serious even through the heat.

“You gonna let me do that, baby?”

You bit your lip and nodded quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Use your words.”

Your thighs pressed together instinctively at his tone, but you obeyed.

“Yes, Joel.”

A slow, wicked smile curled on his lips. “Atta girl,” he murmured.

He shifted lower, slow and deliberate, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, trailing down to the edge of your dress’s neckline. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice rough when he murmured, “You looked beautiful in this today.”

Your chest tightened at the confession.

“Had to will myself to look away,” he added, lips brushing the dip between your collarbones.

“I didn’t think you were looking,” you breathed.

That earned a low, rumbling chuckle from him, his stubble grazing your skin as he tilted his head.

“Only when you weren’t lookin’ at me,” he muttered, his hands gliding down your sides, mapping every curve like they were something sacred. He let out a long, almost exasperated breath. “Where the hell’s the zipper on this thing…”

You giggled softly, biting your lip, then reached down to help him find it at your side. He huffed out a quiet laugh, amused, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

And then he stilled.

For a moment, he just looked at you, searching your face for any hint of hesitation, his gaze slow and steady, like he needed to be sure that there wasn’t the smallest flicker of doubt in your eyes.

All he found was hunger. Trust. And pure need.

That was all the permission he needed.

With a gentle hand, he eased the straps of your dress down your shoulders, watching the fabric slide like water down your skin. Inch by inch, he took in every new bit of you revealed to him, reverent in his touch, like you were something rare he never thought he’d be allowed to hold. And he savored it. Like he wanted this moment burned into memory.

The dress pooled silently to the hardwood floor, and Joel’s breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on you—on the soft curves of your body, the delicate lace of your bra, the shape of you that had haunted his thoughts all damn day.

“Fuck…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Look at you, sugar.”

His hands came to rest on your waist, wide and warm as they smoothed up your sides, his thumbs brushing along your skin with a reverence that made your heart skip. You felt his gaze drinking you in—like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You bit your lip, trying not to smile, but failing. Because the way he looked at you… it made you feel like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And maybe you didn’t always believe that about yourself. Maybe there were parts of you you’d been taught to second-guess.

But right now you chose to believe his view of you, you let yourself feel perfect. 

His thumb brushed along the edge of your bra, just where the lace met your skin, slow and reverent. “Can I take this off too, baby?” he asked, voice low and a little rough.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips—almost a laugh, really—because for all the urgency in the way he kissed you earlier, for how quickly he led you here, now he was being so careful. So gentle.

“You don’t have to ask,” you murmured, nodding, voice soft with affection.

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, deep and warm. “Tryin’ to be a gentleman here.”

You gave him a teasing look. “I thought I told you not to be.”

That did it.

He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth, and then his hands moved behind your back, steady and sure. The clasp came undone with ease—too easily, you thought, and he must’ve caught your expression because he smirked, just a little. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Not my first time with tricky hooks, sugar,” he murmured against your skin as he eased the straps from your shoulders, his touch as careful as it was possessive.

And when the lace slipped away and hit the floor, the look in his eyes made your whole body burn.

"Mmh," he murmured, his teeth gently tugging on his lower lip as his large hands moved up to cup your naked breasts, kneading the soft flesh with his rough fingertips. "Perfect fucking tits," he whispered, his thumb pressing and tracing deliberate circles on your sensitive nipples. You exhaled a small, breathy moan, and he noticed your vulnerability, compelling him to carefully pinch and roll your nipples between his thumb and index finger. "Hahngh," you gasped, feeling the heat rise in your chest as he let out a deep growl from his throat.

"The noises you make..." he murmured, taking a moment to look into your eyes before leaning in to flick his tongue over your hardened peaks, while his free hand alternated between feather-light caresses and firmer squeezes on the other breast.

He was patient but deliberate in his actions, teasing you until you couldn't help but ask for more. You felt the dampness of your panties become unbearable, your hips shifting restlessly on the bed. "Joel, please," you whimpered softly. His eyes locked onto yours as he hummed in response, acknowledging your unspoken request as his hot kisses traveled down the valley between your breasts and across your quivering stomach.

This time, he didn't hesitate or ask for permission; instead, he hooked two fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs before tossing them carelessly to the floor. "Let me see you, baby," he murmured as he gently nudged your knees apart with his firm hands.

His warm breath wafted over your exposed skin, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on every inch of you―possessive, adoring, hungry for all that you were offering. The bristles of his stubble grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses closer and closer to your dripping wet cunt. Every lingering caress you felt, every teasing pause he took, seemed to unravel another knot in your belly.

Finally, he settled himself between your legs, his large hands gripping the curve of your hips to hold you steady against the mattress. “Pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice raw and thick with desire. And then, without warning, his tongue slipped between your folds―sweeping a languorous path through the slick arousal that had pooled there. The sensation nearly caused you to buck into his mouth; but he held you firm, relishing the way your body begged for more while he took his time learning what makes you gasp and whimper.

Joel alternated between slow, torturous strokes of his tongue and quick, insistent flicks that targeted your sensitive clit―never allowing you to predict what came next. Your entire body quivered beneath him as you gasped out his name, your fingers twisting into the dark strands of his hair while your hips ground against his face in search of more friction, unashamed. 

He didn’t stop, just kept giving and giving. Until  breaths turned shallow and heavy, “Joel, ahng fuck baby i’m gonna cum,” you whined and shift your hips. He groaned and pinned your hips harder to the mattress and doubled his efforts, making your breath catch and you let out a lewd mewl. “Joel! Ahngh- baby- nnghh!” you moaned and finally your legs trembled, your legs instinctively clamped his head. A wave of pure ecstasy hit you and you came. Hard. You were left trembling and boneless beneath his mouth.

He licked a last, lazy stripe, then pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before drawing himself up over you, his face flushed and wet with your release, smile crooked and wolfish. "There she is," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek, proud of how undone you were, how loose-limbed and ruined by his touch. You tried to muster a clever retort, but all that came out was a shaky laugh. 

He kissed you, his beard rough and his tongue tasting of you, kissing you with an urgency that reminded you he still wanted—wanted badly. "You tasted so fucking sweet," he murmured as he pulled away, his voice a low rumble. His hand drifted downward, his rough fingers tracing a deliberate path over your slick skin. "Are you going to give me one more, baby?" he whispered, his words like a gentle command. Your hips instinctively bucked to meet his touch, and he chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. "Hmm, that's what I thought."

He slowly urged one finger inside, and you gasped, a soft moan escaping your lips. "Yeah, baby, there we go... Does that feel good?" he cooed, his tone both teasing and tender. You nodded, biting back a whimper, "Nghh—yes," you managed to reply, your voice a breathless admission of pleasure. His lips curled to a smirk, “good girl.”

"You're so fuckin' tight," he groaned, easing you open with his thick finger, then a second. "Goddamn." His pace was patient, careful, like he was intent on learning everything about how your body wanted to be touched—when to keep it slow and when to curl his fingers just right. You buried your face in his neck, breath hot and uneven.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart," Joel said, and guided your chin up so he could see your eyes, so he could watch you fall apart for him. "I want to see every fuckin' thing you feel." It was almost too much—his gaze, his hands, the attention, the resurrection of something wild and alive inside you.

You thought of protesting, making some half-joking complaint about being watched, but all that would come out was a needy, embarrassingly desperate whine as his fingers curled and pressed perfectly on your g-spot, His rough palms grinding on your already extra sensitive clit.

He grinned at the sound, hungry and a little smug, and leaned in to catch your helpless little noises with his mouth—kissing you through it, swallowing every gasp, giving you something to hold onto as the pleasure built. 

His fingers moved in and out agonizingly slowly, making you dizzy with your need for more. "Joel, please," you begged, desperation lacing your voice as your hips bucked uncontrollably. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his voice gruff yet gentle. "Gotta get you ready and stretched for me," he insisted, maintaining his maddening pace. "Hahngh—Joel... Ngghh," you whined again, defiant and yearning. "Shhhh, I know, sugar, I know," he whispered soothingly. 

Your desperation transformed into audacity, your free hand embarking on a daring journey between his legs. It slid against the rough fabric of his jeans, palming the hardened bulge that strained beneath. He hissed, a sharp intake of breath, hips instinctively rocking towards your touch. "Fuck, sugar," he muttered, voice thick with need. Your hand continued its exploration, tracing the length of him through denim, eyes wide and glazed, shimmering with pure, unadulterated want.

He groaned when he met your gaze, your eyes reflecting a storm of desire. His fingers quickened their pace, just a touch, "You want my cock that bad, huh, baby?" he muttered, voice hoarse with lust. You bit your lip, nodding, a silent plea. "Take it out then," he commanded, chin gesturing downwards.

Eager, you didn't need to be told twice. Your hands worked at his pants, deftly unbuttoning, unzipping, just enough to free him. You nearly gasped as his cock sprang free from its confines, thick and veiny, the angry red tip glistening with beads of pre-cum. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath, the sight of him sending a jolt of heat through you.

"Yeah, you like that, sugar?" he whispered, fingers moving faster, drawing out a gasped moan from you. "See why I gotta stretch this tight little pussy out?" His words were crude, raw, dripping with need and promise.

You whimpered, a ragged breath caught in your throat, and wrapped your hand around his length with trembling fingers. The skin was soft, heated, so alive, and you reveled in his sharp intake of air and the way he twitched in your grip. “Christ,” he rasped, head tipping back, his fingers stuttering inside you for just a split second as your thumb traced a slow, teasing circle over the head of him.

For a few breaths, you found a new equilibrium—your hand pumping him, his fingers plunging inside you. It was a game of escalation, of mutually assured destruction, of who would break first.

And of course it was you.

He withdrew his dripping fingers only to thumb over your clit, hard and insistent, and that was all it took. You shattered, hips jerking, vision going white at the edges, your whole self squeezing down on this sharp, sweet ache. He watched, greedily, taking the sweet sounds of your loud moans when you came once more. 

“Look at you, baby,” Joel crooned, voice melting into roughest honey. He slowed his hand, coaxing you through the tremors, head bent to watch every twitch and quake as you spilled over his fingers and soaked his palm. He licked his lips, then brought his hand to your mouth, offering you the taste of yourself. “Open.” You did, dazed and eager, sucking his fingers clean. He grinned at the hungry way you took them, at the gleam in your heavy-lidded eyes. “Good girl.”

You whimpered when he drew his hand away, already empty and greedy for more, a pulse that throbbed everywhere at once. He kissed you again, messy and desperate, all-consuming as the heat surged between your bodies.

"Wait here," he murmured, rising from the bed with a sense of urgency, striding over to his nightstand. He yanked open the drawer, rummaging through the clutter with a growing sense of frustration. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "What's wrong?" you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. "It's been so long since I've been with anyone," he confessed, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "I, uh... I don't have a condom," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You grinned, a chuckle escaping your lips, "That's okay."

"What do you mean that's okay?" he asked, his brows knitting together in confusion. "It means I'm on the pill," you smirked, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You watched as his gaze darkened, a primal intensity taking over. "You mean you'll let me fuck you raw?" he muttered, disbelief mingling with desire. You bit your lip, nodding slowly, your heart racing as he made his way back to you, unbuttoning his shirt and let it fall to the ground. You take in the view of him fully bare, for you and only for you.

He trapped your body beneath his, murmuring in a hushed, fervent tone, "You sure about this, baby? 'Cause once I start, I'm not sure I can stop." You nodded, breathless, and whispered back, "I'm sure," followed by a moment of charged silence before you implored, "fuck me, Joel."

A deep, primal groan escaped him as he pried your legs apart, pressing them firmly against your chest. His ravenous eyes devoured every inch of you—your flushed cheeks, lips swollen from passionate kisses, your chest rising and falling heavily—and finally, the sight of your yearning, glistening depths. He urged you to grip your legs, commanding with an authoritative growl, "Hold them there."

With a hunger that could no longer be contained, he stroked his rigid length, a few deliberate pumps, before guiding himself into you.

He slid inside you in one long, slow push, and the stretch was immense—it made you see stars, made you claw at his arms and bite down on a wanton sob. “Fuuuck—baby, you’re so tight—” he groaned, the words shuddering out of him like a prayer that hurt to say. He paused, breath shaking, and leaned in to press his forehead to yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you did, and the eye contact made the sensation a thousand times more raw. He kissed you, slow and deep, swallowing every wanton moans and whimpers that left your lips. Then he pulled out, inch by inch, and slid back in again, and the friction from the mere movement had you gasping, your head spinning.

He set a rhythm that started out careful, like he was memorizing the way your pussy felt around him, but soon enough the urgency took over. He pistoned his hips with a hunger you felt in your bones, the pressure building with every relentless thrust. Your hands keeping your knees to your chest like he asked you to, until he yanked your legs to rest against his broad shoulders, making his cock hit the blinding spot inside you.

"Ahnngh! There! Joel-fuck hhnnghh," you cried out, your voice dripping with desperation and raw desire. "Yeah? There, baby?" he taunted, his movements relentless, pounding into you with that perfect angle that obliterated everything else from your mind. 

"Fuck, you sound so good, baby," he panted, his hips driving with fierce determination, his arms wrapped tightly around your legs, pulling you closer to him. "C’mon, sing for me, sugar," he grunted, a command that sent shivers through your spine. And you did, your moans and whimpers pouring out uninhibited, echoing loudly in the room, though you barely noticed the volume, lost in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

Your body convulsed as his thumb bore down, grinding tight, relentless circles on your clit. It was your undoing. Every muscle tensed, snapping like a live wire, your spine arching as a raw, primal scream tore from your throat. He didn't just ride you through it; he fucking powered through, pinning you helplessly against him, his cock buried to the hilt as shockwaves of pleasure ripped through you. He was feral, sweat dripping from his hair, jaw locked, eyes feasting on the carnage of your orgasm.

He tore out of you, leaving you gasping, clenching around nothing. Before you could beg for more, he manhandled you, flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up, presenting your ass to him. "I’m not fucking done with you," he growled. Without warning, he impaled you, his cock slamming deep, forcing another desperate cry from your lips. "FUCK! Oh god! JOEL!" He was merciless, the room echoing with the brutal sound of his hips crashing against your ass, his balls swinging, slapping against your throbbing, oversensitive clit with each vicious thrust.

He reached beneath you, snaked an arm around your waist, crushing you back onto him in hard, punishing snaps that had your face pressed to the mattress. Dirty words spilled from him, choked and shaky: "Perfect fucking pussy—taking me so good—goddamn—gonna fill you up, fuck—" Your mind blanked, every thought burned away by the pulsing sensation between your legs and the thick, searing pressure of him inside you.

"You fucking love this, don't you?" he rasped, pulling your hair until your back bowed and your mouth fell open in a wrecked sob. His free hand shot around your throat, not quite choking, just holding—possessive, anchoring, and it made you melt. You nodded frantically, unable to form a word, only a hungry, whimpering "please—please—" as his cock split you, heat pooling low in your belly for another intense orgasm.

With a primal urgency, Joel drove into you with two forceful thrusts, finally surrendering to the overwhelming sensation. He erupted inside you, painting your insides white with his release. "FUCK! Yes, baby—take every drop of my cum," he roared, his voice a guttural growl as he plunged even deeper, determined to ensure his seed reached the farthest depths. You were lost in a haze of ecstasy, so overwhelmed that you barely realized your own climax had crashed over you in tandem.

It flashed by in a blur, a rush of sensations that left you dazed. It wasn't until Joel's voice, filled with admiration and awe, reverberated in your mind that you became aware of what happened. A warm, liquid sensation trickled down your thighs, a testament to the intensity of your climax. The release had been so powerful that it left a noticeable splash against him, seeping into the fabric beneath, creating a dark, damp stain on his navy blue sheets.

Joel paused, pulling out with a slick, wet sound, and for half a second, there was just the sound of you both panting—chests heaving, your knees trembling. He looked at the mess you made, at the way his cock glistened, at the liquid pooling down your thighs, pride and hunger warring in his expression.

"Jesus Christ, sugar," he breathed, his thumb tracing the curve of your ass. "You’re fucking perfect." He slapped your ass—hard, a sting that radiated delight across your skin, then leaned down and pressed his tongue to your still-aching cunt, licking you up, swallow and all. "Made such a mess for me," he mumbled, between greedy, deep sucks.

Your limbs twitched with aftershocks, overstimulation so acute it bordered on pain, and you tried to squirm away—but his hands gripped your ass, holding you open and steady, and he tongued your clit until your thighs clamped on his bearded jaw and you half-sobbed, half-laughed into the pillow.

"Stop, stop," you gasped, wriggling free, but he only smiled—wolfish, proud—and pressed a final, searing kiss to your swollen cunt before letting you collapse, boneless, onto the messy sheets. Joel rolled beside you, his chest still heaving, and flung an arm heavy over your waist, pulling you back against him.

After a moment of ragged breathing, you both gradually settled into a calm. "You okay, sugar?" he murmured softly, his voice tender and gentle, a stark contrast to the intense passion he had shown just moments before. You nodded, releasing a weak, breathy chuckle. "You ruined me," you admitted with a playful grin. He chuckled in response, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Yeah, sorry about that," he murmured, gently stroking your arm before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just gonna be sore tomorrow," you replied, feeling the pleasant ache. He smiled and chuckled warmly. "Damn right you are."

Joel, ever the considerate gentleman, slipped out of bed,  then you heard the soft sound of running water. He returned with a warm wet cloth and a glass of water, crouching beside the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say anything, just tended to you with such gentle care it made your chest tighten.

He wiped you down slowly, his touch unhurried. “You okay?” he asked softly, brushing his knuckles along your thigh once he was done.

You nodded, a soft smile curling on your lips “Yeah.”

Joel climbed back into bed and opened his arms without a word, gathering you back in his arms, your face tucked against his chest. You knew you should probably leave before anyone noticed you were gone, but the thought of moving felt impossible. Wrong, even—his body was warm, his arms felt safe, and your legs still trembled slightly from what he’d just done to you.

“I should probably go,” you murmured, though you didn’t move.

His hand on your back didn’t budge. “Stay.”

You looked up at him. “You sure?”

He nodded and pulled you closer until your legs tangled beneath the sheets. “Yeah,” he said. “Just… stay.” He kissed the top of your head, then your temple. His voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ll wake you before the sun’s up. Promise.”

You smiled into his chest, your fingers resting lightly over his heart. “Okay.”

Joel tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you once more — soft, slow, nothing like the hunger from before.

“Goodnight, sugar,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you whispered, eyes finally fluttering closed.

a/n don't look at me....i felt filthy after writing this one lmao. but i hope you guys enjoyed this one! they finally fucked!! yippieee!! your comments and reblogs have really helped me stay motivated to continue this fic so thank you guys so much! let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist ily all!

Taglist: @bau-muffin, @javierpenaismyhusband , @dilf-docs , @heavydirtygirll, @somedayheaven , @loveisacowboyyy , @lyssaspengler, @buckyinluv, @sadgirlcait, @anoverwhelmingdin, @wencontre

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[wonyology]

The Years Next Door (m!reader x Babymonster's ASA) - part III

part I - part II - part IV (coming, hopefully soon)

Summary: Enami Asa - one of, if not the most important person in your life - moved in next door a few years ago. You didn't know it back then. It started with an awkward first meeting, a shared family dinner and washing dishes together. Looking back now, you still remember it like it was yesterday. But when did things change between two of you? You don't know for sure - once things shifted, there was no going back for either of you.

tags(?): fluff, ups and downs, angst, you'll see when you read it

ASA x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~17k - i didn't even know it was gonna be this long lol, umm maybe u guys can guess the ending while waiting for part IV? have fun~~ (also i took some inspirations from 'twinkling watermelon', you'll know the scene when u see it)

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

2020

That feeling - a little too comfortable, a little too complicated to explain. Neither you nor Asa ever brought it up, so life just kept moving. 

Walking to school together, sharing headphones, snacks, umbrellas… You two were like that one couple in a teenage romance that clearly liked each other but never got together, even at the end. Always orbiting, never colliding.

Spending time with her, however, was never boring. Asa usually spoke in Japanese whenever she was mad, or when she didn’t want you to understand something. Huh, that somehow made you fall for her even harder. Over time, you also started picking up on the patterns. You noticed how Asa always covered her mouth whenever she smiled or laughed really hard at your dumb jokes. You noticed how Asa always slipped into a trance when she was sketching, writing - like she was in her own world, brows almost touching each other like the sketchbook owed her something. She still denies it now, but you know, you always pay attention to her. Maybe too much, sometimes.

She was chasing her own ambitions, but she never forgot you were there. You’d moved to sit behind her, part of you missed sitting beside her - taking a glance at Asa whenever you wanted, her daydreaming in class, the way she looked at you whenever she came across a difficult question in an exam, or her nodding off during afternoon classes… Cute.

But hey, sitting behind Asa also had its perks. Whispering dumb jokes, poking her with your pen just to get a reaction, talking about those dumb discussions on the Internet… The best part, you could play with her hair. With the other boys, Asa was friendly, nice but not one of them was ever this close to her. You were the only who she allowed, or maybe even encouraged to braid, twist or just fidget her hair in class. There was this one time, the teacher couldn’t make it to class. Your classroom was a war zone - noises, laughter, chaos everywhere. You were zoning out, probably thinking of something dumb while looking out the window, like whether people in Seoul would realistically survive if a zombie outbreak ever broke out? (Your guess: a big no no). Just then, Asa shook her head a few times, her long hair brushing against your hands. What was she trying to do? She turned around, lips slightly puckered, pretending to be annoyed. Then she playfully slapped your hands with her hair before turning back around, face slightly blushing.

Oh. My bad. Right away, princess,

What about you? Well, aside from Asa and a few of your hobbies - it felt like all you did back then was chasing medals and taekwondo practice. Homework piled up. Training never seemed to stop. Your limbs ached more than usual. Maybe it was starting to get to you. Did you really enjoy taekwondo? 

Amidst all that, Asa always noticed whenever you were worn out. She would slip a note to you in class, with cute doodles saying: 

“힘내~” (Fighting~)

“괜찮아? ㅇㅅㅇ”  (Are you ok? ㅇㅅㅇ) 

“뭐생각행 ^^” (What are you thinking^^)

Those always cheered you up, even if you were too tired to show it. Walking to school and back home with her, still your favorite part of the day. 

And then… the world changed. Covid hit.

At first, you all thought it was cool to have an unexpected break. Then school was postponed, online classes became the norm. It stopped being fun pretty fast. No more poking at her with your pen, or playing with her hair.

Both of your dads, being doctors at the same research center, knew how dangerous it was. They tried not to scare everyone, but the way they came home tired, quiet after work just showed. It even got to the point that they had to limit how often you and Asa could visit - even though you lived next door. Then one day, they didn’t come home at all. They had to be quarantined - staying at the research center for over 2 months, working day and night.

The world was harsh on everyone, on your families. But hey, you and Asa had each other.

You talked through the window late at night, voices low, sometimes even scratchy through the glasses. Or you would wait until everyone is asleep, then slide the windows open just enough to hear each other. 

“Asa-ah?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, just bored.”

She laughed, quietly. “Me too.”

“Do you think our dads are okay?” she asked, the way a good daughter would - trying hard not to sound too worried.

“I think so. My dad just called my mom, she said she saw your dad sleeping on the floor in the background” you replied, just loud enough for her to hear.

“I hope they come home soon.” Me too.

If it was hard to hear what each other said, you both got creative and turned into that guy and Taylor Swift in the “You belong to me” music video - holding up boards and writing what you wanted to say.  Sometimes, you two didn’t even know what to say. Just there to enjoy each other’s presence. Listening to the same night air. Just two windows apart. It was just about being there.

Late night movie watching was fun too. You both tried to start the movie at the same time - “Wait for me, okay? Three… two, ONE!” - sometimes through video calls, sometimes through your windows with screens glowing in the dark. It felt nice, looking over and seeing each other’s reaction from the window or on the corner of the video call. Other times, you’d watch her instead of the movie.

“Wi Ha Joon looks hot. I think he’d be a great boyfriend.” she commented, while you two were binging Squid Games one night. 

“Really? I mean, he looks good. Don’t know about the boyfriend part tho.” you replied, a hint of jealousy in your voice.

“Girls’ instinct. He’s handsome, 6 pack, and I watched his interviews too. You wouldn’t know.” she smirked.

Ouch. Excuse me, I’m not bad myself, I got girls chasing me too by the way. I do taekwondo so, duh.  And I treat you like a princess… Maybe even when we are just friends. Well… friends?

That night after finishing a few episodes, your windows went dark. Your phone suddenly lit up.

[김아사🌸]

yah…

you’re not mad at me or anything, right?

the wi ha joon thingy…

You left it on read, maybe for too long. You didn’t know how to reply right away. Not because you were mad. Just processing. She said he would be a great boyfriend just like that. Like you wouldn’t understand. Okay, maybe you were a bit salty? You had abs, thanks to taekwondo practice. You won competitions, girls liked you. She said it, like it meant nothing. 

[준혁선베🥋]

nah

not mad

[김아사🌸]

ㅜㅜ u only text short like this when ur mad

Gotcha. But what were you supposed to say?

[준혁선베🥋]

no im not mad

what are u saying ㅋㅋㅋ

[김아사🌸]

i was just joking 

i don’t mean it like that

i just say dumb things like that sometimes

You were in no position to be mad at her for something like this. Asa didn’t owe you anything. It just stung… Maybe just a little bit.

[준혁선베🥋]

what are u saying, kim asa?

i know you’re joking ㅎㅎ

i’m just a bit tired, math class fried my brain today

[김아사🌸]

ooh me tooo

but you’re good at math, i slept the whole class today ㅋㅋㅋ

You really hoped she didn’t know you were bluffing. Your brain weren’t fried from math class. Her voice was just in your head:

“I think he’d be a great boyfriend”. What about me?

[준혁선베🥋]

i should report u to ms. sieun

[김아사🌸]

try me, you big meanie

[준혁선베🥋]

sleep before i block u, dummy

i’m getting sleepy

[김아사🌸]

it’s still early ㅜㅜ

don’t leave me up alone

nooooo

You looked at the time on the top of your phone. 1:39AM. No, it wasn’t early. You two were now just used to staying late together.

[준혁선베🥋]

go to sleep asa-ah

we still have a lot time 

gnight 

[김아사🌸]

…

okay, good night

u meanie

*emoticon of a duck crying*

Heh, cute…

You then tossed the phone aside, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

It wasn’t really something that big. But tonight felt different. Why did one offhand comment just sit with you like this? You tried your best not to give it much thought, gaslighting yourself that it was just you being childish.

Throughout Covid and all those months at home, there wasn’t a single day that you and Asa didn’t talk, text or call each other. Even when things got a bit hectic, you both tried to take a break to just be there for each other. It had become a routine. Video calls showed you sides of her that she never showed to anyone - messy bun, oversized t-shirt, the way she hugged her pillow when she was half asleep, sketching without realizing she was biting the collar of her shirt again…

“Are you still up, Kim Asa? You look like you were just dozing off.”

“No, I’m not.” she said, eyes barely open.

“You look like a ghost right now.” you smiled.

“Maybe I am. Boo.”

“Ghosts don’t send me selfies with eye masks on.”

You loved those selfies of hers. She didn’t know, but you secretly saved every single one of those. 

“Want me to hang up?” you asked.

“No… Just talk. I’ll listen.”

She always did that. Staying on the call even when she was drifting, just to hear your voice.

Then came her birthday. The streets were still quiet. Your dads were still sleeping at the research center. So you did what you could. That night, you wrote on a board: “Happy birthday Kim Asa” in big, uneven bubble letters along with a few bunnies - which you tried to cut and decorated in the cutest way possible.

[준혁선베🥋]

look outside, birthday girl

A few minutes later, her curtains twitched. She peeked out.

She squinted at the board, the broke into the softest laugh ever.

A second later, she opened her window.

“Yah, your handwriting is so bad.” she called softly.

“Hehe, happy birthday. Guess who stayed up until 3AM to cut and decorate paper bunnies?”

“You didn’t have to…”

Then you held up something - a small pink box, clumsily wrapped.

“I’ll leave by your gate later. Don’t open ‘til I say it.”

“What is it?”

“I dunno. Wi Ha Joon’s number. Maybe, if you behave.”

She rolled her eyes at you, smile still lingered.

That night, she sent you a photo of your gift, a hand-sewn felt keychain.

[김아사🌸] sent a photo.

[김아사🌸]

is this a fox? ㅋㅋㅋ

[준혁선베🥋]

excuse me? that’s a really cute rabbit, young lady

just a little mutated ㅎㅎ

still, made with my blood, sweet and tears

[김아사🌸]

ㅇㅅㅇ didn’t know you know how to sew

[준혁선베🥋]

mom taught me, sorry i didn’t get u anything meaningful

covid sucks

[김아사🌸]

noooo

i luv it ㅋㅋ

even if it’s a bit mutated lol

[준혁선베🥋]

look under its butt, there’s a piece of paper

You waited.

[김아사🌸] sent a photo.

It was a photo of a few coupons you made, a bit crumpled.

1 free snack from the school vending machine, 1 walk from home in silence (or full gossip, her choice), 1 emergency homework rescue, 1 ticket to the movies with the one and only Seo Joonhyuk. No expiration date btw.

 [김아사🌸]

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ who taught u all this

[준혁선베🥋]

use it whenever u want lol

happy birthday

[김아사🌸]

thanks for this

i really love it

really

i love it

Well done, Joonhyuk. Well done…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Late 2020 - 2022

Things went by so fast. Online classes dragged on, until limited gatherings were permitted. Schools were partially opened, with lots of restrictions of course. Still, you were excited to see each other, in person - next to each other.

Asa seemed different. More confident. More outgoing. She started speaking more in class, becoming more active in club activities - but she was still Asa, your Asa. Still covered her laugh in the feminine, beautiful fashion, still muttered in Japanese whenever she was annoyed or shy.

And you? It felt like you got taller. Broader. Sports and taekwondo really helped. Your voice deeper, your laugh rougher. You didn’t think much of it, but Asa noticed. She was just a few centimeters shorter than you when you first met, now - she barely reached shoulder. You teased her once on the way home, calling her “pocket sized”. She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouths moved up in that way you always remembered.

People also started noticing. Your science teacher paused one day while handing out a quiz. “Huh, the two of you have grown a lot… Seems closer, too.” You just laughed it off, while Asa pretended to be busy zipping her pencil case. But she was smiling.

Your parents noticed too. One evening, you were getting something for your mom on the top shelf when dad squinted at you.

“Since when did you get taller?” 

“Really, dad? Is it that noticeable?”

“Nah, you’re still my boy.” dad grinned. “Just… over 180 now.” It surprised you too. Somewhere between all the calls, the practices, and walking home with Asa, you’d grown.

When the government finally lifted restrictions on public places, Asa wasted no time.

[김아사🌸]

joonhyuk

get dressed

we’re going out 

don’t forget to bring ur money too

It wasn’t exactly allowed. Your families would’ve scolded you both if they found out - dads being doctors, cases still high, staying inside, all that. But you’d been locked inside for what felt like decades now. Plus, being with Asa was never a bad thing. It was worth the risk. 

You secretly climbed over the wall in your backyard. She snuck out, with the help of her sisters (with much convincing). You two met each other at the corner of the block like it was a secret mission. Mask on, hoodies up, sanitizer ready in your pocket. You didn’t even ask her where you were going. But you were thinking about it in your head. 

During lockdown, Asa developed a habit. You two bombarded each other with dumb Tiktoks. But she had a pattern. Every few days, she’d send you those Tiktoks, sometimes suspicious, sometimes random. 

“Hidden cafe, ideal for couples in Apgujeong-dong”

“Up your game with these fits”

“Outfits that give K-drama main lead energy”

“Try to style your fits according to these rules”

When you asked, she said your style wasn’t bad - nice even, it just needed some upgrading.You watched every one of those and started to imagine being outside. With her.

She took you everywhere. The slightly over-priced stationary shop she called her “art heaven”. A quiet cafe with bear-shaped bottles. A tiny pop up gallery she said was “vibey but a bit underwhelming.” And then cloth shopping, for both you and her.

“Come on,” she grabbed arm before you could even protest.

“What now?”

“We need new clothes. Especially you, you’ve been dressing like a gym teacher ever since the lockdown.”

She took you to one of those small, really niche boutiques full of clothes for young people she saw on Tiktok in Seongsu-dong. Oversized shirts, clean wide pants, creative color palettes. Everything felt like they belonged on a K-drama set. As you two wandered around, she held up a beige jacket, turning it side to side before nodding to herself.

“Try this. You’re tall. This will look good.”

You just followed Asa. Didn’t argue. She picked a few more things and shoved them into your arms, rushing you into the dressing room.

You tried everything on. Stepping out, you felt like you were 7 again, trying out clothes with mom at the mall.

“See, I told you I know best.” she smiled while tilting her head. Yeah, she really does know best.

She tried on some stuff too, taking her time picking everything out. She said she “wanted your opinion”. You didn’t mind tho, it was Asa who you were spending time with. Watching her browse through those racks with a smile on her face brought you 10 days worth of happiness.

“What do you think?” she walked out, spinning around with a blush on her cheeks to give you a show.

She was in a cropped blouse with soft plural patterns, hands nervously fiddling with her sleeves. Damn, you almost forgot how to breathe.

“Too big?” 

“No.” you said, too quickly. “Looks nice, suits you really well.”

You both paused. Then smiled, sneaking out with her was worth it.

When you left the store, Asa tried to carry her bags - like always, But you stopped her with a simple “Give it to me.”

You took everything from her without waiting for a reply. And for a second, Asa looked at you like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. And honestly, she didn’t need to. You thought it was the end of the trip, until she tugged at your arm.

“One more stop.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Your hair, it’s been like that since the start of lockdown - that upside down bowl on your head.”

“Not like I had the chance to go out and cut it.”

“Right, let’s solve it right now.”

You guys arrived at a quiet little salon, the sign was mostly in Japanese, soft instrumental playing inside - one of the hidden finds she’d probably bookmarked while staying up late. This place sure smelled citrus and hairspray. As you took your seat, she scrolled through her phone and showed the stylist a muted Tiktok.

“Something like this really suits him.” She said, in Japanese.

The stylist squinted at the phone screen. She looked at you, then back at Asa with a smile.

“Oh yeah, I can see that. Are you taking your boyfriend out for a haircut?”

Asa smiled, hands waving. “Ah, no–” she answered quickly, still in Japanese. “Uhm, he’s my neighbor. We’re close friends.”

You looked at the stylist’s expression, she smiled, you didn’t speak Japanese but you knew she clearly didn’t buy whatever Asa said. No one really did when it came to the two of you. 

“Got it. So we’re doing a light trim, and soft side perm? Ivy League?”

“Yes please, Maybe keep some volume on top, uhmm… the top should be up a bit like this. Just like in the video.”

“Okay.”

What are they saying?

You’d always paid attention to your appearance ever since puberty hit, or more when Asa moved next door. Just that you always opted for that signature Korean two block cut, styling it for that wavy look every once in a while. You’d tried doing side perm in the past too, it was okay - it wasn’t your taste back then. It looked good on you, at least that was what your close friends said. You did mention wanting to try a buzz cut once. Once you told Asa that, she glared at you, threatening to end your friendship on the spot if you ever dared try it. Trying something new today won’t hurt, I guess.  

Sensing your concern, the stylist smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you achieve that boyfriend material look today.”

While the stylist was working her magic, you just sat back and relaxed. Snippets of conversation here and there with her, it was comforting. Meanwhile, Asa was in the back, scrolling on her phone, pretending not to be watching your reflection the entire time. 10 minutes or haircut, 30 minutes of perming your back and sides - was done. 

The stylist stepped, feeling so proud of her work. “She wasn’t kidding when she said it would suit you.”

You caught Asa’s reflection in the mirror. Her lips pressed, cheeks lifted - trying not to smile. That smug little glow in her eyes.

“You owe me this one.”

You didn’t say it out loud, but… Damn, you were feeling yourself too. And the way she was looking at you? It made you feel even better.

On the way, you felt like she couldn’t stop stealing glances. You - carrying both your bags of new clothing, stationary items, rocking a new haircut, Asa on your side - were on cloud nine. That night, she posted a story on IG, a blurry street photo with the corner of your shoulder in frame, with Bolbbalgan4's ‘Galaxy’ playing in the background. You also posted a story on IG - a selfie with your new haircut, caption saying “New hair, same dummy”. 

See that? Comfort, peace… We were inches away from something else, something more. Almost there… Why wouldn’t either of us just say it already?

Asa didn’t stop at haircuts and clothing. That girl just kept sending you links - perfumes that smelled like “someone who reads”, sneakers that “match your vibe”, watches that scream “I’m a stylish guy, but not in a cocky way”. She really knew what suited you, better than yourself. Also, what is this? Build-a-boyfriend?

Your mom started noticing too. 

“Asa has good taste” she said once while passing by you looking at a cologne Asa recommended.

“When did you start switching to Japanese products, Joonie?” 

You knew, mom.

-

Time went by. You continued to dominate your age group, too easily - some said. After that gold medal at Jamsil Student Gymnasium, as you won more and more - you were in the eyes of the taekwondo national team board. People were sent to your house - a bunch of yes men in clean suits trying their best to convince mom and dad to let you come to Suwon, go to a sports centralized school to focus on taekwondo. 

“You’ve got real potential. You will definitely represent our country.”

Props to them, they made it sound really easy.  Like it was your only path in life. After they left, the living room felt strange but your parents were clearly impressed. However, as your dad was flipping through the brochure they left behind, he finally said after a long pause.

“They weren’t wrong, Joonhyuk-ah. You’ve work so hard for this, but…”

“It’s your life. You’re still our son. Still my little boy” mom added, wrapping her hands around your head to hug you. “We will support your choice, honey. Whatever it is.” “We have always been proud of you, kiddo.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded, grateful. The decision was heavy, but at least it was yours.

That night, you didn’t sleep. Taekwondo, parents, the neighborhood, friends, high school… everything was running around in your head when your phone suddenly buzzed.

[김아사🌸]

guess what 

i saw a tiktok

now i made toast but i used soy sauce instead of syrup ㅜㅜㅜ

ahhh, is it too late to call an ambulance?

You smiled. Oh right, if you left for Suwon, you would have to leave Asa, too… Your thumbs hovering, then finally typed.

[준혁선베🥋]

why are u like this, kim asa ㅋㅋㅋ

[김아사🌸]

the tiktok said it would taste nice

[준혁선베🥋]

drink some water and rethink your life choices 

[김아사🌸]

rude

im dying from soy sauce poisoning and ur bullying??

*angry loopy emoticon*

i’ll haunt u

as soy sauce ghost

boo

You laughed, maybe a bit too loud in the dark, shoulders weren’t tenseed anymore. Somehow, her dumb messages were the only thing that kept you from overthinking everything. No… i couldn’t leave life in Seoul behind, especially if it involved this cute little soy sauce ghost.

The next morning, you told your parents about your decision to stay in Seoul. 

“Uhm… I’m staying. I’ll apply to the same academic highschool here. I think I can balance training and studying here.”

They didn’t say much - just exchanged glances with each other. Your dad then rubbed your head and said:

“Alright. Give it your best, son. Work hard and don’t regret it.”

Just before you leave for school, mom pulled you in for a quick hug. “Thanks for staying with us, baby.” You smiled, too.

-

It was a late afternoon after school, the two of you sitting next to each other outside the convenience store, the same one where you first showed her around the neighborhood. Banana milk in her hands, snacks opened on yours. It was breezy, the sun had started dipping, casting that soft golden glow on her hair. Still beautiful, just like that day I showed you around.

“Joonhyuk-ah? Do you think we’ll get in?” She suddenly asked, “Highschool, I mean.”

You looked at the sky. “Yeah. Should be fine. I’m applying to Seoul Jungang.”

“Me too.” She smiled softly. “Our grades are great, we should get in easily. I think I’ll focus on art there.”

You hesitated - the Suwon thing, you hadn’t told her yet. Is this the right time?

“I got an offer from Suwon. For taekwondo.”

Her head snapped towards you. “What?”

“Uhm… sports highschool. They wanted me to move there. Full training, scholarship, too.”

She didn’t move, but the banana milk almost fell out of her hand. 

“You didn’t say anything to me…”

“Sorry… Didn’t think I needed to. I said no to them.” You didn’t dare to look her in the eyes.

“Why?”

“I just didn’t want to leave Seoul.” now turning to look at her, you said quickly. “It didn’t feel right, I guess.”

Something in her eyes shifted, you could feel it. Anger? Disappointment? Sadness? You didn’t know. But it sure was scary to you.

“Do you know how big of an opportunity that is, Seo Joonhyuk?” Yeah, you’re in trouble. Full name now. “You’ve trained your whole life for this.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re not my mom.” Fuck… It came out of your mouth faster than you could think. “I know what I did and what I trained for.” Asa knew you swore, just not around her - only with your other friend groups. Never around her. Never at her. Not like this.

Her lips parted, then closed again. She was clearly hurt by what you just said. Her brows now pulled together, like she was trying to hold herself back. “So you’re staying here. For what, you dummy?” she asked, voice soft, stunned. “Because of me?”

You stayed silent.

“Joonhyuk-ah” she said again, voice now low. “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m not the reason you said no.”

“There were a lot of things that affected my decision, okay?”

“So you didn’t deny it either.” You let out a breath, just realizing how big of a mistake it is for telling her about your big decision like this. 

“Why does it matter? I’m happy with the decision, Asa-ah.”

She calmly set the banana milk on the table before taking a deep breath, adding to the tension between you two. 

“Because I don’t want to be the one to hold you back.” 

“What? You’re not…” you frowned.

“What if I am, huh? Then what?” her voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. It wasn’t like the other times when she was mad at you. This was real. 

“What if later, when everything’s harder, you blame me for staying? What if you regret staying?”

You looked at her - something about the look in her eyes made your chest tighten.

“I promise. I won’t ever blame you.” you said. “You know what I think about you, Asa…”

The silence became too long, too heavy.

Asa stood up first, brushing off her skirt. “Let’s just go home.” she mumbled. You nodded, following. But this time, she didn’t wait for you.

Watching her walk ahead did something to your heart. Every part of your body told you to fix things before it was too late. So you did. You ran up and reached out - not thinking, grabbing her hand. She stopped.

Asa’s hand was small. Tense. Warm. This was your first time holding her hand. You’d never held it before. Not like this.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” you said, voice rough but filled with guilt. “I’m sorry. For earlier. I got mad and swore at you… I didn’t mean it like that.’”

She turned around, not quite looking at you yet - but her fingers didn’t move.

“I… uh, I’ve never talked to you like that before. I don’t want to. Please don’t be mad at me.” No response. You held her hand a bit tighter, afraid that she would pull away.

“I panicked… I didn’t want you to think that you were the reason I refused the offer. You’re not…” You swallowed. “I mean, you mean something to me. I wanted to stay. Because Seoul matters. You matter.”

Asa just stood there, her face still ridden with hurt. Then, without looking at you, she turned around and just said:

“I’m tired. Let’s just go home.”

You really messed up. Big time. But as you slowly let go of her hand - she didn’t, for some reason. She held your hand, just for a bit longer, not squeezing, not pulling away either. 

-

The walk home was filled with tension, no words were said. Something between you two changed - something cracked. Even though you two were walking side by side again, it didn’t feel good, not like before. It was you and Asa’s first real fight - it exposed something unsaid between you two, while also hinting at how much harder things might get in the future.

The next morning, Asa acted like nothing ever happened.

You were waiting outside, like always - same routine, same backpack slung over one shoulder. Unsure if she’d even show up. Surprisingly, she did.

“Morning, dummy. Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Uh… nothing. Morning.”

She didn’t bring up the fight. Not the Suwon offer, not the apology, not you two’s first hand holding or the awkward silent walk home or the silence last night. It felt like she’d folded it all up and hid somewhere you couldn’t reach. 

“Did you sleep standing up last night?’ she grinned. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

“Huh?”

She slipped out her earbuds, popped it into her ear and tiptoed to reach yours, placing the other one in for you. Then, before getting fully down, her hands touched your cheeks… What?

Baam. Asa playfully slapped you, grinning. “Music, dummy. What’s wrong with you today? Wanna walk in silence like we’re strangers?”

You shook your head and started walking together. You two talked during the walk to school too. Her complaining about the school schedule, joking about how she was going to fake her height to look taller in the yearbook. Did she erase the whole thing overnight - that easy?

“Yah, Kim Asa. Wanna eat something together tonight? After the hakwon? I’ll pay. Government funding.” you asked, half joking, half trying to see if she really forgave, enough to eat together.

Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, you still remember that thing, huh? Okay, only if you’re paying.”

There she was, your Asa was back, with that smile of hers, that playful tone. You were relieved, but kept sneaking glances, somehow this whole thing wasn’t really convincing just yet. No matter how normal she acted - something told you the fight from last night was still there. 

-

Time went by. Ever since that day outside the convenience store - since the fight, the apology - you couldn’t help but feel like something between the two of you had shifted. Not broken. Just bent. But Asa kept acting like nothing happened.

But you both got in. Results came out in January. That morning, you were still in bed, wearing nothing but shorts, hand trembling a bit as you clicked through the  website.

Accepted: Seoul Jungang High School

You stared at it for a moment, heart pounding. You didn’t even begin to type yet.

[김아사🌸]

im in. you?

You smiled, thumbs moving.

[준혁선베🥋]

ur stuck with me for the new few years btw

[김아사🌸]

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

told you we’d get in

[준혁선베🥋]

get ready

let’s get something to eat, my treat

[김아사🌸]

okayyyyy

10 minutes

At least, it felt peaceful. Even for now. You walked there together. Same old street. But the mood was suddenly lighter. You held the door open for her. She didn’t say thanks - just bumped your arms but hers and walked in.

Like usual, you were the one who grabbed the basket, trailing behind her as you both moved through the familiar aisles. Asa kept tossing things in. You, on the other hand, were spacing out. Eyes on her, but your mind was gone. The memories of that day came flooding back in. “What if I’m the one holding you back?”

You didn’t realize you’d spaced out until she hit your arm with a bag of chips. “Yah, Seo Joonhyuk. Are you okay? That head of yours still broken or what?”

“Just… thinking.” you mumbled.

“Chocolate or latte?”

“Chocolate. Always?”

“Hah, you still have the taste buds of a 6 year old.” Asa said, laughing before tossing a bottle of chocolate milk into the basket.

Walking outside after everything was done, the cold air hit sharp again. You found the usual bench, side by side, food in hands, just chewing, sipping, watching people go about their days. For a while, neither of you said anything. 

Suddenly, Asa leaned against you - not too heavy, just enough that her head was rested on your shoulder.

“Hey” she said quietly. “Don’t overthink about that day.”

Your chest tightened. Before you could respond, she added:

“I already forgave you. Now I want my dummy back.”

It hit you harder than you thought it would. You didn’t know how long you’d been holding your breath until you finally let out:

“...Thanks. I’m sorry… I really didn’t mean it. What I said that day…”

For a second, you felt her shifted slightly by your side. She didn’t say anything yet - lips still sipping her banana milk. Then she reached up, her hands ruffled your hair gently.

“Yeah, you sounded like a jerk that day.”

You winced. “I know.”

“But…” her hands now moved down to the corner of your lips, finger moving it up, “Still, you’re the only jerk I treasure. So you don’t get to disappear just because you mess up.”

Your eyes now really met her - and there it was. That smile, real, lovely, only for you.

“Next time,” she said. “Please don’t treat me like I’m someone who you have to hide things from.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

Then she held up her bottle of banana milk, shaking to signal you to hold up your chocolate milk.

“To getting into high school.” she said.

“And being forgiven by Kim Asa.”you added. The two bottles clinking against each other.

She grinned. It all felt better now. Thanks to her.

-

The first year of high school went by faster than you thought. That orientation day came with stiff collars, new sneakers, also way too many unfamiliar faces crammed into one school. You and Asa arrived together, like always - shoulder to shoulder, backpacks bumping as you walked side by side through the gates of Seoul Jungang High school for the first time. You’d seen her in that new uniform in the morning, sure - it hit even harder under the school sunlight. The blazer fit her so well, skirt pressed, hair pinned back for once. Asa looked good, way too good.

“Why are you staring at me, you dummy?” she muttered, eyes avoiding yours as blushes began to form on her cheeks. “Nothing.. you look mature.” you replied.

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself.” she snorted, but there was a flicker of something in her smile. 

The two of you joined the crowd of first years crowding around the bulletin board, chaos by the way. Asa leaned in closer, scanning the list, maybe for the both of you.

“Class 1-4.” she read aloud. “Enami Asa… And, Seo Joonhyuk?”

Yessss, as you quietly celebrated in your head.

She turned to you slowly, eyes wide.

“No way.”, you both said at the same time. 

She bursted out laughing, the laugh that always triggered something in your heart. “I guess I really am stuck with you.”

You grinned. Well, I’m glad that’s the case.

“Excuse me, I do my fair share helping you back in middle school too, young lady.” you shot back.

She put her hands up, surrendering. “Okay, okay, we’re even.”

Still, she didn’t stop smiling. Neither did you.

Class 1-4 was on the third floor. You walked together, slowly, with Asa half-dragging her feet, already complaining about the stairs.

“I miss middle school. Everything was closer.”

“Tired already?” you asked.

She huffed, dramatically. “I need a personal elevator.” I could carry you on my back to class everyday, if you want.

When you two got to class, it was filled up already. Students hovered near the windows, some already claiming seats with their bags tossed onto chairs, while you two just stood there awkwardly. Everything was loud, new, and unfamiliar. Then the homeroom teacher walked in, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everybody. Quiet, please.” she said. “You can pick your seat for now. We’ll assign them officially next week.” 

As soon as the teacher finished speaking, the room burst into motion. Bags shuffled. Screaming. Some kids rushed for the back like it was Black Friday, some weirdly calmly walked to the front. Then, Asa turned to you with that grin, “C’mon” she said -  reaching down and grabbing your hand. Just like that, no warning. Just enough to pull you along, like she did that a thousand times already.

She led you toward the second to last row by the windows - prime real estate, probably best seats ever - before throwing her backpack on the left seat and sliding into it. You followed, sitting next to her, still feeling the trace of her fingers on yours. 

A few glanced your way. Probably assuming, gossips forming in their minds. You notice it. So did Asa. But she didn’t care, already digging through her cute pencil case like it didn’t matter.

“You’re lucky, you know that?” she said, casually. “I could’ve picked anyone. But I chose you.”

“Really?” you played along “Why didn’t you?”

She didn’t look at you this time, lips smiling at her notebook.

“Your high school years would be miserable without me.” Yeah, she was right.

The class was slowly settling as some students found their seats. A few of them looked like they were ready to square up, fighting for the last good seats. You and Asa sat there - like it was already decided, like it was fate. A few minutes later, the homeroom teacher walked around, clipboard in her hands to check names and make notes. She stopped by your row, glancing at Asa, then you.

“Hmm, are you two close?” her eyes flickered, noticing how relaxed you guys looked next to each other.

You opened your mouth, but Asa beat you to it.

“We’re next door neighbors, Ms. Since middle school.” she said.

The teacher blinked, then smiled - just a quiet kind of understanding.

“Seo Joonhyuk… Hmm, you’re that special taekwondo kid the principal was talking about, right?”

The whole class turned to look at you. Your ears were already burning. 

“Uhm,.. I wanted to stay in Seoul.” you mumbled, still shy.

The teacher’s gaze stayed on you for a bit - curious, maybe amused - then she smiled. 

“Well, our school’s never had an athletic talent like you before, so... welcome, you two can sit next to each other.” she walked away - leaving behind a few whispers, glances and Asa was looking out the window like none of it fazed her. But her smile, it made your whole weekend.

Academically, the two of you kept pace - late night studying, in her room or yours, passing notes under the desk, sometimes competing to see who’d score higher - you’d purposely lose to her sometimes, just to see her smiling. That quiet competitiveness, it made you both better. The two of you worked well together, always had. You two weren’t loud, weren’t flashy. But somehow, it was easy to tell that the two of you… just clicked. The teachers noticed too.

Your math teacher always said that you two were like an old married couple. Ms. Taeha always smiled a little whenever she passed by your desks, watching you check Asa’s notes while she doodled hearts on them. 

“Cute couple, aren’t they?” she told the class once. You both pretended not to hear it. Maybe, the teachers were rooting for you and Asa, too.

You started making headlines, too. As you swept through national taekwondo competitions - gold after gold, your school was mentioned in articles, for the first time ever in that context. A taekwondo prodigy, coming out of an academic school? Never before. Interviews of you surfaced on social media, clips of you dominating matches on national TV. Of course people noticed. Especially the girls. They whispered in the schoolyard, eyes on your back in the hallway. Some even showed up to practices, holding banners with your name.

And Asa? She didn’t say much. But you noticed how her eyes shifted, gripping the water bottle tighter whenever someone called your name too sweetly. She wasn’t invisible either. She joined the dance club, and stood out, as expected. Her movements cleaned, graceful, confident - people had to stop and stare. Performances were posted online, soon enough, comments started showing up, too?

“Who’s that girl in the front row?”

“Isn’t she the Japanese girl from 1-4?”

“Enami Asa… She’s gorgeous.” 

It didn’t take long before the sunbaes noticed her - those dicks. The kind who lingered after rehearsals with extra water bottles or excuses to “help” the club. Some waited by the gates afterschool. However, the moment they spotted you - whether walking beside or rambling about something dumb behind her - they scattered. A glance was enough. Sometimes, just a nod. You didn’t need to say a word, didn’t need to.

Asa didn’t say a thing, or asked you to do it. But she never told you to stop either.

Most mornings, you two met outside like always. But now, there was always something in your arm - food, milk, her favorite snacks. You never made a big deal out of it. Just casually hand it over to her. Asa would take it with that same grin, then start unwrapping it before you hit the main street.

Eventually, your classmates started noticing. They noticed the way you pulled out her favorite banana milk and slipped it under her side of the desk before homeroom. The way she always saved half her snacks and nudged it over to you. Neither of you made a show of it, but you both expected it - like muscle memory. At first, there were whispers - then just nods, smirks, acceptance. By that time, everyone had figured it out - even if you two refused to admit it.

But… things weren’t exactly all smooth through high school. You two fought more often than you ever did in middle school - louder, sharper, sometimes over things that didn’t even make sense when the anger wore off. Maybe it was the pressure. Maybe you two were growing, but still super childish. Or you two cared for each other, just didn’t know how to express it.

-

Like when you forgot to print out a sheet for math class.

“You said you’d do it last night.” Asa snapped, arms crossed as you fumbled through your backpack.

“Uhm… I forgot. Sorry…”

“I reminded you. Twice.”

“Well, I already said I’m sorry, Asa-ah. What do you want me to do now? Pull it out of my magic pocket like Doraemon?”

She scoffed, turning away before muttering loud enough to make sure you heard her. “Should’ve done it myself.”

You bit your tongue, then fired back. “Yeah? Maybe you should’ve. Since this idiot can’t do anything right.”

The silence after was brutal. You sat next to each other but didn’t even exchange a single word. Even when she slid her sheet halfway across the desk for you to copy - you didn’t even peek, your pride was hurt. After that, no more glances at each other. Your eraser dropped on her side and she didn’t pick it up. Her pen ran out of ink and you didn’t offer yours. It was petty, neither of you wanted to lose first.

Later that day, on the way home from hakwon, you slipped her favorite pastry into her blazer - that potato thingy she swore she hated but devoured in just two bites. At the crosswalk, she finally spoke up:

“You’re childish.” “We’re childish.” you corrected her.

Asa crinkle the wrapping in her hand, having her first bite. “It was a bit dry…” You smiled. “Told you it’s not even that good.”

She glared at you, chewing slowly, then muttered. “Still better than no apology.”

You looked ahead, hiding your grin. “That’s the apology, dummy.”

The crosswalk light turned green, and you both stepped forward. You were good again. 

-

Like when you accidentally ate her last Chocopie during lunch.

“You seriously just ate my last one, you pig?”

“I didn’t know it was your last? I’m sorry.”

“Since when does ‘I’m saving it for later’ mean ‘Eat it now, traitor’?”

The rest of lunch was silent. The next day, you bought her two Chocopies, sliding them under her side of the desk. She ate it without looking at you. Victory for you.

-

Like when she tried something different with her hair, curled the ends a little, styling them, even wore one of those cute clips Chisa gave her. She showed up at the lamppost between yours and her house, waiting for you to say something. Your dumbass definitely didn’t notice anything, instead just yapping about how Spider-Man would be useless in Asia since there aren’t that many tall buildings.

Not when she tucked her hair behind her ear.

Not when she asked how cold the weather was while subtly tossing her head just enough to show her curls.

You just nodded and kept explaining your theory, Spider-Man would also really struggle in rural areas. By the time you two reached school, she ran out of patience. Feeling the tension, you leaned back to Yunah, who was sitting behind you and asked, quietly:

“Is it just me, or… is she a bit angry today?”

Yunah blinked at you like you were the densest creature alive.

“Look at her hair, idiot. Boys like you are hopeless.”

You squinted over your shoulder, then turned back to Asa, who was sitting next to you, arm crossed, lips pressed, clearly not in the mood. Oh… her hair. Those curls, the way she styled it, the lavender clip - the one you knew Chisa bought her during their sister outing, 

Right, she did all that hoping you’d noticed. But no, Spider-man was swinging around in your mind.

“Uhm… nice hair, Asa-ah. Those curls look great.”

She didn’t even look your way. “Wow. Look at Detective Conan over here.”

You winced. “Is that the hair clip Chisa-noona bought you?”

She clicked her pen. “Oh so now you remember my sister, too.”

You signed, sinking slowly in your chair. Yunah was right, you were hopeless.

That day, on the way home from hakwon - the air was crisp, your backpack heavy with regret, she finally spoke, arms swinging by her sides.

“You’re lucky Yunah helped you this morning.”

You glanced at her. “Am I… forgiven?”

“No.” She looked up at you, smirking. “But I might forgive you tomorrow.” 

Fair enough, princess.

-

Sometimes around mid 2022, the offers came to you, quietly - just messages, emails from the national taekwondo association - asking if you could attend weekend practice at the national training center. Your coach told you later: “They told me they’re watching you. They said you’re the best and youngest they’ve ever seen at this level. They want to put you through the grind - see how you handle it. If all goes well, they might call you up for upcoming Asian games, Olympics even.”

Asian Games? Olympics? Me? Really? For real?

It all happened so fast. You didn’t tell Asa yet. Not because you didn’t remember the Suwon rejection incident - but because it didn't feel real yet. So instead, you opted for something else, light and throwaway someday on the way home:

“Coach wanted to put more focus on training for the rest of the year. Like… weekend stuff.”

Asa blinked, lips still sipping that banana milk.

“More now? Aren’t your schedules, like packed now? School? Training? More training?”

You shrugged, not looking at her for too long. “He said he wanted to see I how do. Testing the water.”

She didn’t press, but something about her eyes made you feel like she could already tell you weren’t telling her the truth. 

-

Months went by, training got hectic. You barely had time to breathe between school, hakwon and new national drills. You were exhausted - but didn’t want to complain. You didn’t want Asa to worry. But that meant you forgot. Her big rehearsal. She told you about it almost everyday that week. You promised her you’d come. You didn’t.

By the time you remembered, you were soaked in sweat. Hurrying to check your phone, 3 unread messages. Fuck…

[김아사🌸]

hey

it’s okay if you couldn’t make it

just wish you told me earlier

No… You messed up.

You ran with all your remaining stamina after training. When you got there, everybody was packing up and ready to leave. Asa was there, eyes tired, talking to her friends - when she finally spotted you. You didn’t dare to go inside, instead waiting for her outside.

Asa walked out, 10 minutes later, still in her rehearsal outfit - hair tied up messily. The moment your eyes met, she knew.

“You’re late…” she said, cold.

You stood there, forgetting how to breathe. “I’m sorry. I really am. Training was crazy…”

She nodded slowly, lips pressed. “You could’ve told me earlier.”

“I know. I should’ve, I’m sorry.”

Asa shifted her weight, gripping the straps of her bag tighter. “You promised, Joonhyuk-ah. Either show up or don’t promise.”

“I’m busy. It wasn’t intentional. You think I want to let you down?” you defended yourself.

Her eyes were sharp - not teary, not soft. Angry. Tired. Hurt. All at once. 

“You. Already. Did.” she said, firmer this time. Then stepped closer, looking up straight at you in the eyes and jabbed her finger into your chest. 

“You keep saying you care. But when it actually matters, you forget. Do you know how embarrassing it was, waiting there while everyone else’s friends showed up?” Poke.

You flinched at her words - ready to fire back before she poke you again.

“You don’t get to apologise and hope I forget it like it was nothing big, Joonhyuk-ah.” Poke.

“I AM BUSY! You think I just, what - relaxed all weekend?”

“So you’re saying all this doesn’t matter? I don’t get tired too?” she snapped, stepping even closer now. “You’re not the only one with pressure on your shoulders.”

“That’s not what i said-”

“But that’s what it feels like!” she snapped again, chest raising, finger still pressed against your chest. “Like you’re carrying everything alone, and I’m just some side character you forget to tell things to.” You swallowed, head down.

“... I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” voice low.

Asa said, eyes still burning. “Guess what? You just did it again, Seo Joonhyuk.”

Her friends could feel the tension, choosing to walk away. And with that - she walked home alone, not waiting for you, not looking back. Your shoulders dropped as you watched her walking away, too fed up with you. Your hands were now trembling - not from training. But from the words she said and the way she looked at you like she didn’t recognize you for a second. 

-

That night, you skipped dinner. The call came at about 7PM - your coach was on the other end: “They want you on the roster. For the upcoming Asian Games. They were afraid you were still young at first, but with it being postponed until 2023, you will have enough time. You’ll be training more with the seniors at the weekend. It’s real this time, Joonhyuk-ah. Hangzhou, China.” 

You should’ve felt proud, ecstatic. Instead, your mind went to Asa. Like muscle memory, you grabbed your hoodie and stepped outside. The light on her house gates was still bright. You hesitated for a moment before ringing the bell. The gates opened to Ms. Keiko, wearing her apron, maybe mid-dinner prep. She blinked at you, surprised.

“Oh, Joonhyuk-ah.”

You bowed politely, then asked in a low, nervous voice. “Can I… Can I talk to Asa? I have something to tell her.”

Her eyes scanning your face for a second - something in your expression must’ve softened her.

“Asa-chan is in her room. Go on.” She smiled.

You nodded, slipping off your slippers before walking upstairs - familiar stairs, but they suddenly felt heavier than usual. Then, you stood at her door for a moment - gently knocking twice.

“Asa-ah, it’s me.” no answer.

“Can you open the door?” you knocked again.

You took a risk, opening the door anyway. As you pushed open the door, a familiar soft hum floated out - StayC’s ‘Stereotype’ - it had been trending on TikTok these days. Asa was sprawled out on her bed, earbuds in, legs kicking in the air, scrolling on her iPad. Her hair was in a messy bun, bangs slightly messy. She didn’t notice you at first - not before looking up, and screamed:

“AAHHH! What the -???”

She yanked one earbud out, almost dropping the iPad on her face.

“What are you doing in my room?! You can’t just barge in like- What if I was changing, you pervert?!”

You were surprised, too. Holding your hands up in the air, stepping back a bit. “I did knock. Twice!!”

“I thought it was Chisa or Lisa!!”

“I called your name!”

“That doesn’t me you can just - ugh! You pervert!!” Asa grabbed one of her plushies and threw it right at you. You didn’t even dodge, letting it hit you in the face before falling on the floor.

She was still glaring, cheeks flushed pink, breathing a little heavy. “You’re unbelievable, you jerk.”

You took a deep breath and quietly stepped inside, not forgetting to gently close the door behind you. The soft click of the door made Asa raise an eyebrow, still perched on her bed in a defensive position, arms holding her pillows like it was her shield.

“Uhm.. Just listen to me, okay?” you said “I have to explain.” Asa didn’t respond right away, but she didn’t tell you to leave either. Her head tilted slightly, watching you carefully - irritation was clearly still on her face, but curiosity quickly took over. You exhaled before speaking up;

“I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure it would happen. They said they were watching me, those weekend training sessions. If I told you and it didn’t go anywhere, it would’ve been just another broken promise and disappointment.”

You paused, looking at her.

“I just got the call. They picked me. I’m going to be on the roster for the Asian Games next year.”

Asa’s mouth opened, then closed again.

“I know I screwed up a lot recently. I’m not denying it. It’s just… I’m tired and distracted… I don’t want this to come between us, Asa-ah. I know I didn’t handle things right, but I care. I never wanted to shut you out. I…”

You sat down awkwardly on the floor in front of her. Trying to think of the right words to say:

“So… Tomorrow night. Let’s ditch hakwon, go somewhere. Just you and me. No excuses this time. I’ll tell you everything you want. Just give me one chance.”

Asa’s expression didn’t shift at first - but her grips on the pillow loosened. Eyes softened a bit before saying:

“You didn’t think I’d be proud of you, you big dummy? How long have we been friends for?”

You let out a light breath.

“You could’ve just told me, you know. I would have understood.” she added, quietly.

You looked down, hands scratching the back of your neck, shame in your voice. “I was scared…”

Asa sat up straighter, letting out a slow breath. “I’m still mad tho.” she said plainly.

“Fair. I understand.” you replied.

“But… I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“That’s good enough for me.” you smiled.

As you stood up, brushing your palms nervously against your thighs, glancing at her.

“Uh, before I go,” you said “Can you… stand up?”

Asa narrowed her eyes a bit, “Why?”

“Just… please.”

She let out a skeptical sigh but slowly stood up anyways, stepping down from the bed, still clutching her pillows. Before she could say anything, you stepped forward and wrapped your hands around her. It wasn’t tight, more of a quiet, unsure hug. Like you were afraid Asa would push you away.

She stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard. But she didn’t move, standing still, breathing against your chest, her pillow now squished between you two.

“I’m sorry.” you murmured, “I really am.”

You hugged her for a little longer, before pulling back slowly, just enough to look at her face. Her eyes had now softened, brows were still furrowed. 

“You smelled like tiger balm.” she said softly.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, not a bad smell tho.”

She didn’t smile - yet, but she didn’t pull away either.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” she finally said, poking your shoulders lightly. “Go home, dummy. Before I tell my mom you were perving on me.”

You froze at the door, turning back with a look of betrayal.

“I knocked. Like, TWICE!”

She raised her eyebrows, completely unfazed. “And still came in without my permission. That’s suspicious behavior, dummy.”

You groaned. “Right… Sorry. Good night, Asa.”

When you finally got out, from behind the door, her voice followed: “Congrats, Joonhyuk-ah.”

The next day came quickly. Neither of you said much during class. Your arms close enough to brush, though they didn’t. Asa spent most of the period tapping her pen mindlessly, probably daydreaming about something. You slipped her a note - a terrible drawing of the hakwon building exploding, dramatic smoke, stick figures running. She looked down, raised one of her eyebrows - clearly unimpressed, then scribbled underneath: “Lame.”

You smirked and nudged her knee under the desk. She didn’t move away. The day dragged on for so long, but when the bell rang, you moved first. Zipping up your bag, you stood up casually and leaned down to whisper, “Let’s go.”

Asa then glanced at you - then nodded. No teasing, just trust. Down the staircase. Past the side gate. But not heading home this time, instead, you two walked to the bus stop near school. 

At the bus stop, you checked the schedule screen and pointed.

“Should be two stops. Then we walk a bit.”

Asa gave you a sidelong glance, a bit skeptical. “Where are you taking me?”

“Probably taking you somewhere outside of Seoul, then dump you there.”

She didn’t press, lips now pouting before adjusting her backpack and folding her arms. 

“This better be worth it. My mom would kill me if she found out about this.”

You laughed. “You’re with me, remember?”

The bus came. You both climbed in. Sitting next to each other, like you always did since you two first met. The bus rocked gently as it made it through the late afternoon Seoul traffic - that classic bustling city traffic, stop and go every few meters. Outside, the peaceful vibe of Eungam-dong slowly disappeared, now replaced with dense clusters of tall buildings, packed intersections, and neon lights flickering before sunset. Delivery scooters weavering between cars, people rushing home like it was a sport, LED lights glowing above massive skin care stores and cafes. Everything felt like Seoul, felt like home. Inside the bus, it was calmer. Just the soft hum of the engine, the low voice of people chatting. You snuck a glance at Asa, whose face was lit up by the city lights. One earbud, arms loosely folded, but her fingers were lightly tapping on her legs.

“...You should paint your nails again.”

She turned her head slightly, confused. “What?”

“Your nails, dummy.” you said “I was just thinking. It suits you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you even talking about right now?”

“Let me see your hand.”

She held out her hand, still confused but obliging. “They’re literally just nails. Plus it would get me in trouble at school.”

You took her hand in yours, pretending to inspect it - brushing your fingers against her fingertips.

“See? You’d look cool with black polish or something. Or like… purple. No, pink.”

She giggled. “What are you on right now, Joonhyuk-ah?”

But she didn’t take her hand back. So you got braver, risking it.

You slipped your fingers between hers - slow, easy, no big deal. But it was. You kept your eyes on your joined hands - waiting for something. She didn’t do anything, just surprised. Then, her fingers adjusted, tightened, slightly. You looked up.

“I’m still mad at you…” she muttered, eyes looking at you before turning back to the window, face unreadable.

Then, you shifted closer and without thinking, gently pulled her hands into your lap. Smooth criminal. Still casual, but careful - like it had always belonged there. Your thumb brushed softly along the outside of her hand, slow, back and forth, tracing her knuckles. Still no reaction. So you held it tighter - trying to keep it warm from the AC. Not possessive - just warm, reassuring. 

-

The bus stopped at a stop near the Ewha area. The bus door hissed open. You stood first, giving your still jointed hands a tug, signaling her to follow. 

As you two stepped down, the noise hit all at once. Car honking, couples’ chatter… It was an area built for slow dates - bright stores decorated with cozy color palettes, cute dessert cafes, streets full of flower shops, music spilling out of every corner… You name it, they had it all. Everything here smelled like sugar, perfume - like love. Brighter. Alive. Especially at night.

Asa adjusted her backpack, looking around. You glanced down, looking at her hand in yours. Still there, still warm. You gave it a light squeeze.

“Let’s do what you want today, everything.” you said, gently,

“What?” she blinked.

“Anything.” you repeated. “You pick. I’ll follow. Anything you want. I pay.”

She looked at you for a moment - still trying to decide if the idiot in front of her was being serious.

“Really? It’s not cheap here, Joonhyuk-ah.”

“I got money from all those taekwondo competitions, a lot. My parents are serious about saving up - I won’t go broke.”

“Promise me you’re not going to complain halfway through?”

“Nope.” 

“Not even if I drag you into those stationary shops for two hours?”

“I’ll even hold your basket.” you said “Then judge your choices.” Asa cracked a smile. Small, but real. “...Okay then.”

-

Asa looked around, lips pressing like she was pretending to think really hard. 

“First stop, I want to look at pens.” she said.

“Lead the way. But only pens?”

“Yup, overpriced ones. Gel pens. Multicolored. Glitter.” she replied, testing you.

“Like I said, all on me.” you smiled.

She shot you a look, suspicious. “You’re weirdly agreeable today.”

And with that, she turned on her heels and led you straight into one of the nearby stationery stores, the bell ringing above as you rushed to open the door for her.

The place was like heaven to Asa - shelves organized by color, pens stretching for what felt like a mile, ailes of stickers, memo pads shaped like milk cartons… It smelled faintly of paper, sweet plastic, flowers… but in a really good way. Cozy. Cute. Just like Asa. First thing you did, grabbing a basket and followed her without hesitation. 

Asa immediately beelined for them pens, testing them like a military instructor evaluating weapons.

“This one is smooth,”she said.

“That one is cool,” you replied.

She dropped it into the basket anyway. “Glad to hear your opinion. But… mine matters more.”

You kept close as she moved from pens to notebooks, flipping through one with a chubby cat on the cover. She didn’t say anything, just ran her finger along the edge before quietly adding them to the basket.

You, just happy being there with her. Your eyes wandered a bit before stopping at a rack full of pencil pouches. Hey, a dinosaur with stubby arms, its face looked exactly like her when she sulked. Huh, cute. You slipped it into the basket. When she returned, she noticed it immediately and just rolled her eyes at you.

“You think this looks like me?” 

“...No.”

About 30 minutes later, you two arrived at the register. When the cashier handed the bag, you reached for it before Asa could reach for it.

“I’ll do it all today. Don’t worry about it.”

She didn’t say anything - just let her hand fall back to her side.

As you two stepped out into the street again, you glanced her way. “Still mad?”

“Still deciding…”

-

Outside, the sky was starting to fade - golden, dreamy, straight out of a K-drama, episode 7, market date vibes. You two walked without any destination in mind. The street was buzzing. Then the smell hit: sweet, savory, a little spicy. 호떡, 떡볶이, 어묵국  steaming from skewers. (Hotteok, tteokbokki, eomuk broth). Asa’s eyes lingered at a stall, and you didn’t hesitate.

“Give me one second.” Then you returned with two skewers and a cup of warm soup.

“...Such a gentleman.”

“I’m not a monster, you know.” you smiled.

You both stood there, under a tree, side by side, quietly chewing as people passed by. 

“That dinosaur pencil pouch better not show up in my room. It looks dumb.” she nudged your arm. 

“Too late.” you grinned.

A few minutes later, you tossed your empty skewer into a bin as you both kept walking. Then, suddenly, you stopped. Asa turned:

“What?”

You were staring at a giant ad plastered on the side of a  building - Ryujin from ITZY, short hair, sharp gaze. Asa followed your gaze, then frowned. “Why are you staring at her?”

You tilted your head. “Not really.”

She looked at you, confused.

“I was just thinking… you’d look amazing with short hair.” 

Asa blinked. “Me?”

You nodded, still thinking. “Yeah, like… you know, shoulder length. Or, what do they call it? Bob? Like short but also curly? Or wavy? I don’t know but… yeah, short hair would look great on you.”

She scoffed at you. “You’re just saying that because she’s an idol.”

“No,” you said, now looking at her. “I’m saying that because I think you can pull it off. Then again, you can pull any vibe off - cute, cool. Whatever you want.”

She opened her mouth a bit, before closing it again. Then she looked away - pretending to look at the shop across the street.

“Well… I’m not cutting my hair.”

You smiled. “Didn’t say you have to, just complimenting.”

She crossed her arms, ears now slightly red.

“You’re still annoying.” she muttered. And you love it.

Not long after, you passed a neon-lit building with a blinking sign, a coin noraebang. Asa glanced up.

“Wanna try?”

“Today’s your day.”

“Don’t get weird about it.”

Inside was cramped, but clean. Faded stickers on the mic, soft disco lights overhead. Asa picked first.

BLACKPINK. DDU DU DDU DU.

You raised an eyebrow. Then she rapped - like really rapped. Sharp, confident, nearly perfect, hand gestures, expressions and everything. You sat there, amazed, lowkey forgetting how to breathe. When the song ended, she looked at you and raised an eyebrow.

“You like that?”

“Didn’t know you had that in you.”

“I’d make a good rapper, at YG.” she just smirked and cued up another.

About ten songs later, your throat hurts, stomach ached from laughing, the room was warmer then it should’ve been. On the way out, you spotted one of those claw machines, with a cute medium sized bear in the middle. Asa on the other hand barely glanced at it. You didn’t say anything, just sliding a 500 won in and tried. Failed. Tried again.

“Joonhyuk-ah…” she spoke up,

“Nah, I got it…” you said.

One more try.

Okay, the claw now hooked the teddy bear, one ear flopped over.

C’mon now. Just a bit more…

Yes! It finally fell into the chute. You picked it up, brushing lint off its head and handing it to her without a word. 

“Still deciding, by the way…” she said, but hands still held it tight, in front of her.

The night now felt light, loose, like the kind you didn’t want to end. Asa slowed in front of a tiny Life4cuts, tucked between a convenience store and a run down shop. She looked at it, then you. 

“Wanna do it?”

“You want to?” you shrugged.

“Might as well. You’re already carrying my stuff.” 

Before you could answer, she grabbed your free hand and pulled you in. The curtain dropped behind you. The screen lit up as Asa took her time to choose the frame and her favorite filters. “Heheh, this one is so silly. Get ready -”

3..2..1

First frame: she held up the teddy bear while you blinked, too slowly

Second frame: you both puffed your cheeks, you pointing at hers, her pointing at yours.

Third frame: she leaned her head slightly against your shoulder, much closer than before. Neither of you said anything, but you could feel the heat rush to your ears.

Final one - you hesitated…

Then, as the screen flashed the countdown, you leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was just a quick kiss - soft, barely a second. Then the camera clicked.

Click. Asa froze a beat, lips slightly parted. Hands still holding the bear. You looked forward, pretending nothing happened with burning ears. She didn’t say anything. 

Reaching out to grab the printed photo strips as they slid out. Outside, Asa looked down at the photos on her hands, particularly the last frame - before handing you one and quietly slipping the remaining photo strips into her backpack. Still no words. But her fingers found yours again as you both started walking, other arm still wrapped around that bear.

-

Eungam-dong was quiet, like it usually was at this time of the night. No more traffic, only the soft whirr of scooters passing by, the hum of distant music leaking out from convenient stores, and occasional laughter from a group of students still hanging around. You glanced at the digital clock outside the familiar pharmacy near home, 9:42AM. Well, late but moms shouldn't be suspicious - hakwon sometimes ended even later.

You and Asa weren’t exactly talking. The silence between you two felt like a shared secret - not awkward anymore. She walked beside you, hugging the bear tightly against her chest, fingers clutched around the soft fabric like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. You looked over, the tip of her nose was a little pink from the cold. Without a word, you reached into your blazer pocket and pulled out two hot packs before slapping one gently against her arm.

She blinked. “When did you even buy these?”

“Prepared. Thought ahead.” you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

She took it without arguing, the warmth settling into her palm. “You’re weird today.”

“But you love it tho.” you grinned. Then, before she could walk too far ahead, you shifted closer and put your arm around her shoulders. She immediately froze. Just for a second. Then she dipped her head a little lower and stepped into your side - shoulder brushing against your chest. It was too quiet, too warm. Your heart was hammering, But, you were still feeling confident so you reached over and gently squished her cheeks.

Asa turned her face away instantly, but not fast enough. You caught the way her face was glowing red. “Your face is hot.” you teased.

She turned back with wide eyes. “Yours is even redder.”

You smirked, gently pressing your fingers to her other cheeks. “You’re burning right now, Asa-ah.”

“You kissed me first! Today!” she shot back, voice raising a few octave.

“So?”

“So!” she repeated, like that proved something. You tilted your head, watching her. Lips slightly pressed, eyes wide - not mad, just a bit overwhelmed. Still holding that teddy bear you got her like it was protecting her from your sudden burst of confidence. You leaned in closer, close enough to whisper:

“Should we kiss for real this time?”

Then, you weren’t sure who leaned in first. You? Her? Didn’t matter. But the space between you two was shrinking, her eyes flickering at yours and your lips, cheeks still flushed, breath caught somewhere in her throat. Your hands now grazing her shoulder, holding steady.

Here we go. just a few more seconds.

Closer… closer….

And then -

“Asa-chan?”

Well, that sounded familiar. Gentle. Neutral. But somehow it felt like an ice bucket was just dumped on your head. Asa’s mom? Was it her? You both froze and turned around.

Bingo! Standing a few feet away near the streetlamp, were your mothers - your mom with a grocery bag full of greens in her arms, and Ms. Keiko, holding a bag of frozen dumplings and something wrapped in newspaper. What are they doing out this late at night? Both staring, standing still, not yelling.

Asa’s body stiffened beside you. She took a few steps to get away from you, bear pressed to her chest again. You tried to open your mouth, but couldn’t speak up.

“I thought you had hakwon today, Joonie?” your mom asked.

“Or did you both… skip hakwon together?” Ms. Keiko tilted her head, she still had that warmth in her, it was just a bit terrifying this time.

-

Her house’s living room was too bright. Too quiet. You and Asa sat next to each other, looking like two puppies who were about to be yelled at for biting slippers - scared. Your moms sat across from you, arms folded, expressions perfectly neutral - way worse than yelling. 

“So, Asa-ah. You were about to kiss my son in public?” your mom asked, voice calm.

“Mom…’ you groaned.

“You don’t get to talk, mister.” mom said, pretending to be mad. “Is it your idea, Asa, or this dummy’s idea?”

Asa was horrified. “Uhm, Ms… I… We didn’t kiss yet…”

“Yet? So you were about to.” mom said, too quickly. A hint of tease in her voice.

Ms. Keiko added. “I’m trying to understand why you two perfectly good, responsible students - my daughter, my neighbor’s son, would skip hakwon like this. Together.”

Asa looked down, cheeks blazing. “We weren’t planning to… it just…”

Your mom leaned back. “It just…?”

“Can we not talk about this like we just robbed a bank, mom?” you said quietly, scared to look your mom in the eyes.

“No, no, I’m fascinated.” your mom said, “It’s not everyday that I find my son trying to kiss his girlfriend on the street.”

“We’re not dating…” you both said at the same time - too loud, too defensive. Both moms paused.

Ms. Keiko then glanced at her daughter, faking disappointment. “Asa-chan… you skipped hakwon. Almost kissed a boy. That’s almost 2 crimes in one night.”

She squeaked. “We didn’t do anything bad.”

Ms, Keiko then crossed her arms. “Okey. Tell us what you were doing.”

Asa hesitated, you gave her a wide-eyed look like: You tell them. We both die.

“... We went to the Ewha area.” she confessed, head down.

Both moms blinked.

“We got food, walked around, bought stuff…” you added, now surrendering. “Noraebang, then… got a bear.” Right then, you saw Asa hugging the bear tighter on the corner of your eyes.

“Anything else? Hmm, you two.” Ms. Keiko said, trying hard not to smile.

“And we took photos. That’s it.” Asa blurted out. Your eyes now wide, shook - Nooo, why would say that!!!

“Show us then.” your mom demanded. That tone. You knew it. The one she used when you used to hide your literature exam results in middle school - you hated it, never one to be writing stuff.

Asa froze, then slowly reached in her backpack like it was a death sentence. You leaned over, whispering, “You don’t have to…”

“Zip it, you little rascal. I’m not done with you yet.” your mom said.

Asa was already pulling out those tiny, glossy photo strips. She flipped through the first two ones - the safe ones. Then she stopped, stared at the third one. Oh shit.

The one with the last frame being her eyes wide, your lips on her cheek. The room felt like it dropped several degrees. For some reason, she passed them all to your mom. Your mom took them in complete silence, examined each frame then paused on the last one. Ms. Keiko also leaned in to see. It was followed by a beat of silence.

Then your mom cleared her throat. “So… you two…”

“You kissed my daughter in a photobooth?!” 

Your heart dropped. “It was just a cheek kiss, Ms. I…”

Ms. Keiko then raised an eyebrow. “Did you ask first?”

Asa intervened. “It wasn’t even that bad, mom…”

Your mom looked between the two of you, before handing the strips to Ms. Keiko. 

“Hmm, you two did look like me and your dad back then, Asa-chan. When we were young, rebellious, back in Japan.” Ms. Keiko said. “Mommm!” Asa wailed.

“Just saying.”

Your mom exhaled deeply, shaking her head - now smiling. “This idiot of mine. Skips hakwon, runs around Seoul, kisses a girl on the cheek, and even got photo proof.”

She then turned to you, eyes narrowing. “Did you pay for these, Joonie?”

You nodded, sitting up straighter. “Yes, mom. With my taekwondo prize money.”

“Hmm.” your moms both blinked.

“Uh… I wanted to buy them for her. Not just the photos. Everything today.” you said, quieter now.

Then, your mom smiled - for real this time. “Good. I raised you well.”

“So, we’re not in trouble?” you asked, raising your voice at the end, hoping for some miracle.

“Oh, you’re definitely in trouble.” mom said immediately. “Your dad is definitely seeing these photos tomorrow.” Then, she pulled out her phone to capture the evidence, looking way too proud.

Ms. Keiko gave Asa a soft look. “And you, Asa-chan. Next time, tell me. I wouldn’t have stopped you, I just want you to be safe. At least you were with Joonhyuk tonight.”

Asa pouted into the bear. “I’m sorry, mom…” she said in Japanese.

“Also, I’m putting this one on the fridge.” Ms. Keiko said, holding up the one where you kissed her cheek. Both of your faces were now blazing. 

“We’re not done yet. This whole thing smells like there’s more. What are you two hiding?” your mom asked.

Asa looked at you. You looked at Asa. And then, you took a breath.

“...I got called up. The national team. Uh, next year Asian Games.”

The whole room went silent. Dead silent. Your moms blinked. Ms. Keiko sat up a bit. For a few seconds, everything in the room stopped.

“What?” your mom asked, like she wasn’t sure what she heard was real or not.

“I just got the call yesterday,” you said, eyes now dropping to your knees. “They said they wanted me after all those weekend training sessions. It’s official… Uh, I might represent Korea.” Asa stayed quiet by your side, watching everyone else's reaction.

Your mom’s hand slowly reached to cover her mouth. “You’re serious.”

You nodded. Then-

“Seo Joonhyuk!!” She stood abruptly. You flinched, fearing for your life. She pulled in, for a hug. Hard.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she mumbled into your shoulder. “Do you know how proud I am?” 

“Uh… maybe?” you said, unsure.

“And Asa knew before me?!”she pulled back, mock-offended. “Unbelieved. Betrayed by my own son?!”

“I was going to tell you tonight, mom.” you muttered.

“You’re lucky I love you.” mom said, hands now moved to your shirt collar, shaking you around. “Because if I didn’t, you’d be walking home barefoot right now!”

Ms. Keiko gave you a gentle smile. “That’s great news, Joonhyuk-ah. You should be proud.”

You nodded, shy. “Thanks, Ms.” You then glanced at Asa, she was already looking at you, lips curled into a smile. The moms eventually let you two off with a final round of warnings - still teasing, but proud. Asa walked you to the gate, still hugging the bear, and she whispered, “Next time, tell me sooner.” Life hadn’t felt this exciting in a while. Also, the next day, Lisa and Chisa didn’t let Asa off the hook that easy, teasing her for an entire week.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

2023

It was great. But nothing official changed between you and Asa. Still sat next to each other, still walked home together whenever you could. Still stolen glances and dumb jokes in class. But something shifted - it wasn’t bad, at least not right away, just… a bit different.

After the Asian Games news came out, you became a celebrity at school, not to your liking. Whispers followed you in the hallway. Kids at school asked for photos like it was normal. Girls from other classes, even sunbaes started lingering outside your homeroom. 

Asa noticed, of course she did. She didn’t do anything about it, though. Just kept her head down during lunch, kept waiting for you while you stopped to thank someone for what felt like the hundredth time, kept smiling when people said, “You’re so lucky to sit next to Joonhyuk.”

Also, something also got to you. It was nothing new, started as background noise but slowly became more frequent. A comment here, whisper there.

“You two would make a good couple.”

“Seriously, just date already.”

“They’ve got it all - good-looking, talented, and basically act like a couple.”

At first, you brushed it off, like you always did. Dumbass. People said it even back then, right? But the more you heard it, the harder it became to ignore. Neither of you had confessed. No labels. No promises. You guys were close, too close - but technically still “friends”. 

One day, you weren’t expecting anyone. One of those rare weekends without training, thankfully. You’d just finished showering and were halfway drying your hair with a towel when the bell rang. You padded to the front door and opened it. It was Asa. Wearing her usual black shirt. Holding a small paper bag, maybe from Auntie Bomi’s snack stall. And-

Her hair. Gone. Not gone gone. But… short. Chin-length, neat and clean with soft layers that emphasized her features in a way that you’d never seen before. You just stared.

“...What?” she asked. “See something you like, dummy?”

You blinked. “You cut your hair…”

She raised her eyebrows. “Duh, obviously. Say something else.”

“...You look amazing.” you said, honestly.

Even though Asa tried to roll her eyes, you caught her lips curling into a smile. “Of course, I do. I look good in everything, you said I’d look good with short hair, remember?”

You did. That day at Ewha. Staring at a huge poster of Ryujin. Hey, she really remembered.

“Yeah, you really do…” you added, quietly. “Like, a lot.”

She looked down for a second, then held up the paper bag. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in? I got your favourite right here.”

You stepped aside, Asa just walked in like she always had. She was toeing off her shoes in the entryway when your mom came around the corner with a basket of folded laundry in arms.

“Oh my - is that Asa?”  she said with her eyes wide opened, surprised. “Oh my, look at your hair, darling. You’re so beautiful!”

Asa straightened, greeting your mom. 

“Wow, you look so chic.” your mom said, putting the basket down instantly to get a better look. “Like a model. Or one of those magazine girls. Wahh-c’mon, Asa. Turn around, let me see properly.”

Asa shyly did a 360, slowly as your mom fawned over her with praises. You were about to save Asa when your dad’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Who’s that? I head Asa’s voice-”

He appeared next to your mom, one of his eyebrows raised.

“...Why did you cut your hair?” he asked, confused. “Did Joonhyuk break your heart?”

“Daddd.” you groaned from behind your towel, horrified.

Asa nearly choked on a laugh, hiding it behind her paper bag.

“I didn’t!” you said. “Nothing happened!”

You dad just nodded, still unconvinced. “Mmm, I know that look. Your mom cut her hair just like that when we broke up for a few months back then. I know that broken heart haircut.”

You two settled down on the couch, paper bag between you two, still warm with food. In the kitchen, your parents’ voices flowed through - your dad still going on about your mom’s short hair back when they broke up years ago while she was shushing him between laughter. Asa leaned in, shoulders brushing yours, and whispered:

“I didn’t cut it because of you… but I did kinda want to surprise you.”

Either way, you’re still beautiful.

You glanced sideways, forming a grin. “How am I supposed to play with your hair in class now?”

Asa rolled her eyes, but her smile suggested something else. “You already do that. Like, since middle school.”

“Exactly.” you said. “It de-stress me. What am I supposed to do in class with my fingers now?”

From the kitchen, your dad’s laugh boomed again, followed by your mom’s scolding whisper. For a second, this all felt stupidly perfect - making you forget about everything else.

-

One day, you were busy with extra training and sent Asa a quick message.

[준혁선베🥋]

extra training, can’t walk home with you today

sorry ㅠㅠㅠ

i’ll make up for u tomorrow

plss don’t be mad 

Asa understood. She didn’t want to be mad, she knew what you signed up for, she was just… lonely. The sun had dipped behind rooftops, Eungam-dong somehow felt weird today. Putting all her thoughts behind, Asa walked briskly, hands holding the straps of her backpack - she missed having someone, maybe you, by her side.

She cut through the narrow alley - the shortcut. Halfway through - she saw them. Those two guys, sunbaes, always loud, hovering near her desk during breaks with that fake friendliness, throwing out compliments that felt more like traps. But they never crossed the line, not when you were with her. Today, you weren’t. One of them noticed her first, then nudged the other. Their grins spread too fast.

“Oh, hey. Alone today?”

Asa kept her eyes forward. “Excuse me.” she said, trying to walk past like she didn’t hear them.

The tall one shifted to block her way. “Feisty, you talk to older guys like that?”

“Just let me go home.” she said quietly, not looking at them.

The shorter one leaned against the wall. “We’re not trouble. You think too low of us.”

“Also, don’t pretend you don't like the attention.” The taller one tilted to look at her, gaze sweeping from her face to her uniform. “You’ve been acting stuck up lately. You and that boyfriend of yours.”

She met his eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I’m not interested in talking with you two.”

That made something in his eyes flicker. A challenge. “Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not. Get out of my way.” she moved, now blocked by the shorter guy.

“You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone so small.” his voice now playful, but meant everything he said. “Makes me wonder how long you’d keep that attitude if you weren’t with that taekwondo kid.”

He reached forward, trying to tuck her hair behind her ear or touch her face. She smacked his hand away, hard. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” The air now shifted. Before she could say anything - 

Smack

The slap echoed too loud in the alleyway, her head was snapped to the side, cheek flaring hot. She stumbled to her side, breath hitched, frozen. Her hand flew to her face, palm shaking, pressing against the pain - the sting was unbearable, along with the helplessness. 

The taller one muttered, “Fuck, what the hell..”

“This bitch asked for it.” The other one said. 

“Let’s just go.” They walked off, muttering curses - not glancing back.

Asa’s knees felt so weak. Her chest was tight. Her vision blurred. The tears then came, sharp, unannounced - filling her eyes  before she could stop them. She sanked to the ground, fingers clenching her backpack straps tight. She cried, quietly - the kind of crying that hurt, that burned because you tried so hard to not cry. And all she could think about was: Where were you?

-

That night, no texts from her, nothing. You sensed something was off. The next day came, you showed up at her gate like always. She was already outside, blazer all buttoned up. You smiled and waved casually.

“Hey… I’m sorry for last night. Uh, you didn’t text me back.”

Asa nodded. “Sorry, I was just… tired.”

You didn’t think much of it at first. She did look tired, pale - not like her usual self. You tried teasing her a little on the way. She didn’t answer. Just nodded a few times. It bugged you. You slowed your pace to match hers, slower than usual. 

“Everything okay?” you nudged her shoulder.

“Just cold.” she nodded, again.

Then, as you neared the school, you glanced at her face closely - Is that make up? More than usual. Covering something? Her skin was always smooth, barely needed makeup. But today - something seemed off. Under her left eye, just barely visible beneath a thin layer of foundation, there was some discoloration. Something that shouldn’t have been there.

You stopped walking. Reaching out, you gently tilted her chin. She flinched.

“Asa…” Your heart dropped.

“Don’t.” she pulled away.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.” you were trying to keep your voice low. Calm. But your pulse was racing.

“Who did that to you?” you asked again, barely above a whisper. 

She paused for a long whisper. Then, softly said “Please, Joonhyuk-ah. I just want to forget about it.”

You clenched your jaw. Your whole body stiffened, trying not to explode right there. But you nodded. You wouldn’t press her now. But whoever did this? You weren’t letting them go.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

That day, you didn’t ask again. But you watched. Quietly. 

During break, you saw her flinching when one of those sunbaes passed too close behind her in the hallway. She didn’t say anything, but you sensed something was off. She didn’t laugh during lunch like she usually would, instead she kept checking over her shoulder. And then, you saw them.

Those two guys from the year above, leaning against the stairwell wall, eyes flickering to Asa as she passed. Whispering something. You didn’t do anything, not yet.

Later that day, you asked around - casually. Just a few questions to your friends, your sunbaes. One of them said he’d noticed them two trailing behind Asa these days, whenever you were off to practice. Hey, that was all you needed. When school ended, you already had their names. You sent Asa a message.

[준혁선배🥋]

more training, again

can u go home with yunah?

i asked her to walk you home

i don’t want anything bad happen to u again

-

You didn’t go home after school, opting to skip practice. You followed them. There they were - behind the neighborhood market, cutting through that empty lot near the old playground. Laughing they owned the world. You kept your distance, breathing calm. Waiting for your chance. When they stopped near the back alley of a fried chicken joint, about to light up a cigarette, you stepped out.

“Yah!”

They turned. Too late. 

In a flash, the taller one was slammed against the wall, the other shoved down by the collar, falling onto his knees with a grunt. You didn’t say anything, letting the silence take over and walked slowly to them. One tried to get up. You kicked the back of his knee. Hard. He dropped again. Then, you swung at the two of them. Hard. Both of them were now lying on the ground.

“Kneel. In front of me. Hands up in air”

They tried to catch a breath, looking at each other.

“Hurry up before I fucking lose it.”

And they did, obediently. 

You took your left Jordan off, pointing at the two of them.

“What did you two shitheads do yesterday? Huh?”

No answers, that only fueled your anger even more. Just two motherfucking cowards, kneeling, hands in the air. Your jaws clenched - trying to stay calm, that didn’t seem to work. You slapped the sole of your sneaker against the first guy’s face.

Smack. He flinched, head turning with the blow.

“I fucking said,” Smack “What did you-” Smack “do to her?”

 “W-We didn’t do… She just…” The other guy spoke up, just before he could finish his sentence-

Smack. A hit to his temple.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

They look terrified now - not only from pain, also from the way your voice never cracked. You looked batshit crazy.

“Asa had a bruise on her cheek. I saw it. She covered it with makeup.” You stared them both down. “She even covered for the two of you and didn’t tell me anything. You know why, huh?”

Your chest rose and fell from adrenaline. Then  you asked - low and sharp:

“Which one of you?”

Still nothing. So you stepped forward, pressing your sneaker against the shoulder of the guy on the left - the taller one. He flinched.

“You? You laid your dirty hands on her?” 

“No-no… It wasn’t me. I swear!”

The other one tensed his shoulders, kept his head down. Dead silence. So it was you.

You moved fast - grabbing his jacket and yanking him up.

“You slapped her.” just barely a whisper, enough for him to hear.

“I didn’t mean to-” he whimpered. Then - your fist connected, he collapsed to the ground.

You didn’t remember how hard or how long it took. You did know your punch was hard and you made sure they landed in the right places - enough for them to regret this for the rest of their life. The other one flinched, you pointed at him.

“You, too. Get up.”

A few slaps to the face and kicks to the knee later, he joined his friend on the ground. You signaled for them to stand up, like a coach at practice, gazed cold.

“Up. Fifty push-ups. Now.”

They blinked at you, stunned.

“I fucking said- Fifty push-ups. Each, Go. I got all night.”

The two of them looked at each other, unsure if you were joking. You weren’t.

“One, two…” your hands now in your pockets. 

They dropped, hands on concrete. And you watched, sneaker tapping the ground slowly. Each time they groaned, you’d add, “That’s four extra. Keep going.”

Your voice now steady, a bit more calmer. Still, you had to make sure they’d never go near her again.

-

The next day, the weight of everything hung over the classroom like a thick fog. Whispers had already started before class, threading through desks and across notebooks like a storm no one could stop. Some looked at you, some didn’t. Some didn’t even bother hiding the way they stared at you and Asa when you two walked in. You sat down, opened your book, tapping the pen against it - calm, quiet, like you hadn’t just done what you did the night before. Asa didn’t sit close this time. She slid into her seat with her eyes down, hugging her backpack like a shield. No jokes, no teasing that morning, either. You didn’t blame her. But it stung, so hard.

First period. As the teacher began roll call, the tension never broke. Then, right in the middle of the first period, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by the gym teacher opening the door.

“Uhm, I need… Seo Joonhyuk, Enami Asa.” he said flatly, eyes unreadable. “Come with me. Principal room.” That was it. Everybody knew.

You stood up slowly, adjusting your blazer. Asa hesitated, confused - she gave you a weird look before following. As you walked, you could feel everything - eyes, thoughts, gossips behind you. Heavy. Curious. By the time the door closed behind you two, the room hadn’t dropped into silence yet.

“Alright, class. Focus. Focus!”

-

The principal’s office was already full when you and Asa stepped in. The two dickheads were seated, looking like they’ve aged ten years overnight, bruises on their faces, eyes avoiding yours - should be like that. Asa slowed behind you, her steps faltering just lightly. 

Your mom sat on one side of the room, next to Ms. Keiko. Neither of them looked angry - which was worse. Your mom’s eyes were cold, controlled but full of disappointment. Ms. Keiko’s arms were folded, face unreadable. Asa was scared, choosing to sit next to her mother, like she didn’t know where else to go.

The atmosphere was stiff and silent. You felt like a loud breath could set everything off. Even the ticking of the clock above the principal desk felt loud. The principal stood behind his desk, his gaze swept across the room, landing on you last.

“Okay, now that you guys are all here. Let’s begin.” He started.

“I’ve heard everything. Several students witnessed the incident last night, and these two students have admitted to harassing Asa here repeatedly - for a long period, it seems.” He paused.

“And, uh… Joonhuk’s actions were violent, yes. I understand where it came from but this is still unacceptable behaviour for our school, our society.”

Asa’s eyes met yours. Shock, betrayal - like she couldn’t believe you, her Joonhyuk, the one who walked with her everyday for the past few years, had done that. You looked back at her, but she turned away, clutching her mother’s arm like she was holding herself together.

After a few phone calls, the principal talked to your moms. Your mom firm, Ms. Keiko calm but disappointed. You just held your head down, feeling like you had disappointed everyone once again.

There was no yelling, just tired voices trying to make sense of what happened.

The principal rested his hands on the desk, his voice calm and firm.

“The national taekwondo association was informed,” he began. “They’re disappointed but, fortunately, they understood where your actions came from, Joonhyuk-ah. That doesn’t excuse it, but they’ve made it clear: they still want you at the upcoming Asian Games. You’re one of the best our country has ever seen, at seventeen.”

He then glanced back at the moms. “Uhm, him along with Asa are bright students. Strong academic records, no prior incidents… Also, Joonhyuk is the youngest ever from an non-athletic school like ours to be selected to represent the nation. A really rare case. And because of that, they’ve requested a meeting with our school ethics board in the upcoming days to help mediate this.”

A pause. Then:

“Joonhyuk and his parents will have to be present. Pending review, we’re assigning Joonhyuk extended after school volunteer duties and weekend public service work. This has to stay within school records. I want you, Joonhyuk, to follow our instructions for now. And don’t make us regret this.” 

You tried to act normal, like nothing happened. But the room felt colder. And Asa’s silence? That was the worst part.

After everything, the two of you returned to class. No one said much, but everyone noticed. The seat felt further apart. Asa didn’t even look at you, once. You tried, everything. Tapping her side of the desk slightly, slipping her a note during break. No response. Even though you had every excuse, every reason, something about her silence just crushed you harder than the principal’s words ever could. When the last bell rang, you chased after her on the way home.

“Asa-”

She walked faster.

“Asa-ah, please. Wait for me.”

Nothing. Just the soft rhythms of her shoes on the pavement. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just - I couldn’t let them get away with it. You were hurt and I wasn’t there.”

“You think that’s why I got mad?” she finally snapped, still not looking at you. “You think I need you to do that just because they hit me?!”

Her voice was shaky.

You stepped closer, letting out a breath. “Then why? Tell me. Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t shut me out. I can’t take it.”

She stopped talking, finally turned around to face you. “I was scared. Not of them. OF YOU. Of what you would do when you found out.” You didn’t answer. 

“I needed you.” she continued, “But not like that. Not like some idiot who always resorts to violence.”

You tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled back.

“Please…”

Her eyes now wet, furious, but it wasn’t the anger that hurt. It was the look that said she didn’t know who you were anymore. She then muttered something in Japanese, like she always did when she didn’t want you to understand, like always did when she was mad. That… That made something twist in your chest.

“Again with that.” you exasperated. “Why do you always do that?” She looked away, refusing to answer. 

“I’m trying here, Asa. I’m telling you how I feel. I know I’m not right but-”

She cut you off, more angry words again in Japanese. This time, colder, sharper. You had no idea what they meant, but they sounded cruel. Like she was purposely keeping you out. Then, something inside you snapped.

“Just goddamn say it, Asa-ah.” you said, voice raised, hands on your head out of frustration.

“Say it to my face. Don’t act all high and mighty like a princess one second and turn into an annoying bitch the next.”

Silence.

Oh, shit. Why did I say that?

“Asa… I didn’t-”

Smack.

Hard.

You blinked. The sting bloomed across your cheeks. You had taken all kinds of hits, but this, this was deeper. Asa’s eyes were wide, full of hurt and disbelief, already glassy with tears.

She took a step back. Shaking. “I knew it. You only see what you want.”

“Asa, wait-” you tried again, stepping forward.

“No.” her voice cracked. “You don’t get to hurt me and act like you’re the one who’s broken.”

She turned before you could say another word. Her shoes scraped the pavements as she rushed off, hands covering her face. She didn’t look back, once.

You stood there, frozen. 

You did it again.

You hurt her.

You broke your promise.

You might have just lost someone who you couldn’t win back.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Yayy, part III done. idk what to say lol. it's not the end yet. things might happen. good or bad? wait for part IV, i guesss? love u guys. thanks so much for supporting me.

[freak-accident419]

'i wish you were a girl'

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Summary: Rhett comes to you for help. You always had this weird relationship with him—a weird in-between of platonic and romantic. However, Rhett had a reputation to hold, meaning you could never go too far with him. The worst part, however, is that he truly likes you as much as you do.

Word Count: 1.1k

Content: (drabble-ish), non-woman!reader, male!reader, non-binary!reader, genderqueer!reader, inspired by 'as you are' film, influenced by 'brokeback mountain' film, are they lovers? worse, closeted Rhett Abbott, forbidden love, no happy ending (feel free to request a 2nd part), kissing, comfort, cuddling, events canon to the show, this is my pride month fic xx

-

Rhett Abbott was straight.

At least that's what the default assumption was in Wabang, Wyoming.

It was a western, conservative territory. Otherwise, there was an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" etiquette among townsfolk. It wasn't too much of a burden to be queer, considering there was an out lesbian as the Deputy Sheriff. But that didn't mean Joy Hawk hadn't faced any hardships at all because of it.

Rhett Abbott was raised to be a "real man." He instantly got fixated on the concept of bull riding in his childhood and he was always teased by his elders whenever there was a girl his age right next to him.

There was nothing wrong with being queer. Rhett was taught to be respectful and kind, and that's what the Abbott family was all about. But if Rhett was queer? It was never a conversation. He was "too masculine, too much of a ladies' man" to be, so there were no concerns there.

Surely enough, that statement would soon be challenged once you came into the picture.

You were Rhett's close friend, knowing him for a few years now. It all started with you helping him shotgun a Miller Lite at a lively bonfire party. He fucked up with the first can and wound up spilling it all over the ground. As you witnessed his pathetic endeavor, you decided to assist him with a new can, puncturing the hole for him. Obviously, you both got drunk that evening, but Rhett seemed to be more hammered than you. The friends he came with were nowhere to be seen, so you stayed with him the entire time, driving him home once you finally sobered up. Ever since that night, you never left his side.

But that was years ago. Now, you had a much deeper connection, one that was more unconventional than anything. Don't take this the wrong way, it was beautiful. But it also wasn't comprehensible. It reached places farther than just friendship, yet it didn't quite meet the criteria for a real, romantic relationship either.

There was one thing for certain, however. Rhett Abbott simply couldn't be with you. It was well known—rather, well assumed—that he was straight.

So he didn't question this very moment; his head on your lap as you stroke his brown locks. Apparently, Rhett got into serious trouble. He wasn't specific about it as he blabbered to you in a panic, but he also knew you weren't the kind to pry. You would just do things for him without asking.

"Will you be my alibi for last night?" You could hear the urgency over the phone just through his anxious inflection.

He needed you. "Yeah. Sure."

And so, he came to your place in pursuit of solace. And you provided. After all, that's what friends were for.

Rhett lightly shifted his position on the couch, continuing to revel in your touch. His blue eyes bore into the wooden wall across from him, feeling the stress from his brother's actions slowly fading away.

He knew he shouldn't feel anything for you. He knew it wasn't right, to fall for his close friend. He knew it wasn't right to fall for someone like you.

"You okay?"

But he couldn't help it.

"What?" Rhett huffs in alert, slightly turning his head to face you.

Your hand that was in his hair lightly pushed him back in position to convey he had nothing to worry about. "You've been quiet," you mumble, gentle fingers continuing its ministrations, "something else bothering you?"

The man on your lap sighs deeply. "Everything's just so fucked up," he mutters bitterly, almost nuzzling your thigh with the slight stir of his nose.

Rhett was six feet tall, weighing around 150 pounds. He would frequently work on the ranch, having his fair share of chores. He would get into bar fights and he rode bulls for a living. But none of that mattered right now; he felt like the smallest person on earth as long as he was in your arms.

"Thank you for doing this," he mumbles, shutting his eyes briefly in exhaustion, "I know it's very... inconvenient."

"Yeah, well," you scoff softly, "you should know by now that I'm used to your troublemaking tendencies."

He let out a quiet chuckle in response, inhaling deeply in order to ground himself.

"Mm. Yeah," he sighs, before a bittersweet thought crossed his mind. "What would I do without you?"

Rhett sat up, untangling from your arms. He was beside you on the couch, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation. He needed to be close to you.

He felt like a magnet. It felt like you were falling—an excruciatingly slow fall towards him. You weren't sure what came over you, because your face moved closer and closer to his until your lips touched.

He kissed back.

You were kissing Rhett. And Rhett was kissing back.

Your hands were limp as your mouth moved with his, feeling his gentle, moist lips meshed with yours. He was lost in the sensation, exploring the foreign territory of intimacy with you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue already parting your mouth to taste you. Yet, while it felt like a millennium, the kiss concluded promptly.

Rhett sank back into his spot on the couch, and the two of you just stayed there motionless, processing what had just happened.

It's always been deemed so wrong, but it felt so right. He wasn't supposed to kiss a platonic friend. He wasn't supposed to kiss someone who wasn't a woman. He wasn't supposed to kiss you. No matter how much his body seemed to crave it.

Women were his forte, and that was the end of it. From childish crushes on girls in grade school, to hopeless yearning for Maria Olivares in high school, he's always liked women. And sure, his cowboy peers may have looked fairly attractive to him. And maybe that librarian always seemed to have a pretty smile on their face. But it didn't mean anything. There was no way it could have been sexual attraction. Rhett Abbott was straight. He had to be.

After all, everybody expects the bull-wrangling, church-going Abbott offspring to be a well-respected, good old fashioned role model of a man.

Rhett gulped, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and regret as his next words would break the long streak of silence.

"I wish you were a girl," he murmured.

He wasn't looking at you, as his eyes were glued to the floor—glassy and scintillating.

You expected this of him. You knew it in your heart that you loved each other. But Rhett was stubborn and he had a reputation to hold. He never wanted to risk being a disappointment. Even if that meant hurting you.

"I'm sorry," he utters.

You always knew it was never going to work out.

"Me too."

You just didn't expect it to be this painful.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co