#( he lifts the sun and the seas up to the sky )

[akaibaras-yearning]

Chapter I: Whispers of Blue

Everything is blue His pills, his hands, his genes And now I'm covered in the colors Pulled apart at the seams And it's blue And it's blue

~Halsey: Colors

Warnings: feelings.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･･:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ.･*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･･*:.｡. .｡ .:*･゜ﾟ･*

She collapsed onto the unforgiving ground, the echoes of her labored breaths mixing with the collective exhaustion of her classmates. Every inch of her body seemed to protest aching in places she didn’t even know could ache, the sweat clinging uncomfortably to her skin, marking the effort she had exerted. Yaga-sensei made sure that they knew that he would, in fact, not be holding back on their physical training. 

At least it was their last class of the day. With eyes closed, she allowed herself to indulge in the anticipation of a really, really, really good scrubbing in the shower, she might even have enough energy left to lose herself in a trashy romance book before she passes out on her bed.  

As she summoned the courage to lift her heavy eyelids, she was met not by the comforting embrace of twilight or the soothing warmth of a setting sun. Instead, her gaze collided with an overpowering shade of blue that seemed to engulf her in its depths. It was a soul-crushing hue, one that left her feeling adrift in an ocean of emotions she struggled to comprehend.

 She felt like she was drowning.. She didn’t even get to process what exactly she was looking at. The sky? No. For a moment, she felt as though she was drowning in that azure abyss, lost in a sea of emotions she couldn't quite comprehend. The sky seemed insignificant compared to the presence that loomed over her.

Her eyes traced the contours of circular, pitch-black glasses, and in that instant, a name echoed in her mind like a forbidden word, 

“Gojo-senpai.”

Her upperclassman smirked, drawing back from invading her personal space, leaning back to his full height, “Alright, stand down Shoko. She’s still alive!”

How long did she analyze his face exactly? In that fleeting second, it was like she stood at the edge of a cosmic pause button, where time took a breather and everything faded except for the captivating depth of those eyes. Heat began to creep up her neck as she accepted the hand offered to her by Haibara. Geto-senpai gave them an apologetic and reassuring smile, a hand comfortably resting inside his pocket and the other offering the girl a bottle of water which she took gratefully, muttering a polite “thanks”.

“That Yaga is really good at breaking the freshman’s spirits.”

The white-haired teen snickered, “You all did better than Utahime, though. I heard she actually cried during her first physical training.”

“It’s Utahime-senpai to you!” The miko-wearing woman quickly retaliated, fists bunched on her sides. “And big talk coming from the cocky bastard who got one-upped by a stuffed bear!”

“That was a one-time thing!”

(Y/n) can’t help but quietly laugh at their banter, her gaze turning curious at her senpai’s words which Shoko seemed to observe, explaining further.

“The idiot was so cocky that he actually dropped his Infinity for a moment, and the Cursed toy wasted no time giving him a much-earned uppercut.”

Geto laughed heartily, as if reliving the memory in his head, much to Gojo’s dismay, “And ever since then, Satoru always has his Infinity up. What a pushover.”

“I’m cautious, there’s a difference!” Gojo tried to explain, however it all fell into deaf ears as the giggles spread among the small group.

Their whining senpai sighed in resignation, pushing up his chest even though his pale cheeks were dusted in pink, “I was gonna be a good senpai and all ya’ know, I was gonna treat my adorable kouhais with some tasty ice pops, but..” He clicked his tongue.

Haibara was quick to act on his feet, singing praises as he began to massage the taller man’s shoulders, “The great Gojo Satoru! How generous, how powerful, how handsome!”

Just like that, his air of confidence was restored, hands on his hips and nose in the air, “Ah, I see you recognize true value. This is why you’re my favorite kouhai, Haibara!”

His statement was punctuated with haughty laughs, basking in Haibara’s praises.

“What a pathetic man, honestly.” Utahime deadpanned before she ushered the other students to exit the training grounds. “Let’s go.. before we get infected. Idiocy is contagious after all.” A collective laugh echoed again amidst the group of sorcerers, their miko-wearing senpai ushering them to the nearest convenience store. And even with his proclamation earlier, Gojo still ended up paying for the whole lot, Shoko and Geto wouldn't have let him do otherwise anyways. 

The girl lagged behind once the group began to distribute the cold treats, seemingly satisfied with watching the dynamic between her schoolmates. Looking at the blue raspberry popsicle in her hand, she wondered why every shade of blue that isn’t his eyes feels so wrong now. Like every other shade is just a poor imitation. And the blue that’s so selfishly always encased behind pitch-black glasses is the only shade of that color worth seeing.

She then felt silly and apologized to the popsicle for demeaning it in her head. And then thanking it for the cold satisfaction that’d spread within her once she tasted it. 

“Good, huh?” Haibara chuckled, purposely lagging behind and falling into step with her. 

“All things taste better when it’s free.” She was quick to retort, enjoying the sweetness of the popsicle. 

Her classmate’s eyes seemed to smile in tandem with his lips as an easy laugh fell from them, “Man, how crazy is it to be friends with the strongest sorcerer in this generation? Feels like a fever dream.”

She meets his gaze with a faint smile, her reserve momentarily melting away under the warmth of his laughter, “It’s.. definitely interesting. Seems like something we’re not allowed to do, for me.”

The blonde in front of them let out a soft disgruntled groan, “I’m disappointed. I thought that person would at least have some decorum. But this..” Nanami’s sentence trailed off just for them to hear their senpai’s, 

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I can’t finish two popsicles in one go? Do you know who you’re talkin’ too?”

Said senpai then proceeded to engulf two popsicles in his mouth, scuffing the treats down while sporting an absurdly exaggerated expression of determination, as if he were conquering the greatest challenge of his life.

The freshmen’s smiles fell flat, well at least (Y/n) and Haibara’s did. Nanami’s already displeased face just deepened with a twitch of his eye. “The whole of the Jujutsu World rests on his shoulders? I think the Gods have abandoned us.”

They silently watched the Satoru Gojo scarf down the frozen treats. Rose’s own popsicle nearly consumed, she propped the remaining chunk of it in her mouth, a boisterous laugh echoing in front of them as their pearly-haired senpai pointed condescendingly at his friends. 

“I proved your asses wrong and won more treats. I just can’t stop winning, honestly.”

He spoke as though he bore the weight of his own greatness, flashing the two finished popsicle sticks that were both faintly engraved with the word ‘winner’.

At the same time, while their other senpais threw their protests, she had finished her own treat, pulling it out of her mouth, Haibara was already broadcasting it before she was even finished with reading the engraving. “Oh! (Y/n)’s a winner, too!” Their Geto-senpai snickered, “Would you look at that? Looks like you ain’t anything special anymore, Satoru.”

Unperturbed, even with his sunglasses, everyone saw him rolling his eyes, “Hah? That is just factually incorrect. And I won two. I don’t wanna hear anymore from you losers.”

He then made a particularly derisive face holding an ‘L’ sign on his forehead. The rest just watched in amusement as they could practically see the tick on the Curse Manipulator’s forehead. But even before Geto could retort,

The girl blinked as she was quite literally swept away with a heavy arm on her shoulders, expensive perfume, with primary notes of pine and mint, assaulting her nostrils.

“Sorry, I can’t hear ya. The winners are gon’get their rewards. You losers just stay put, now.”

She was sure she heard multiple popsicle sticks zoom their way, she craned her neck over his arm to look behind, seeing the wooden sticks stopping mid-air from hitting him and then falling listlessly on the pavement. The girl didn’t say anything but her senpai replied anyway, 

“Neat party trick, right?” Frustration filled her as she once again felt that strange sensation of being tongue-tied as she tried to answer, her eyes tracing that dimpled smirk over and over. Her inadequacy didn’t seem to faze the man beside her as he let his arm fall away from her shoulder. Only then did she feel her face cool down. Meaning.. it was hot before? Her body is very confusing today. 

Oblivious to the girl’s inner musings, the taller man began to talk as they made their way back to the konbini, popsicle sticks in hand.  It amazed her just how good he was with making one-sided conversations, his questions were mostly rhetorical, answering them himself before she could even open her mouth. 

So she simply nodded her head along, opting to observe the literally suffocating presence beside her. Men and women, people in between, of all ages stared as they walked by. Of course, they were staring at him. Besides his obvious deviation from the common local features, the way he walked just screamed: dominance. Each step was a declaration, a proclamation of his superiority, and the world seemed to bend to accommodate his presence.

Even with her own knowledge of who this man is, even if they were walking together, she felt the disparity between them. Her silent observer's role felt like a mere spectator in the grand performance of his life. Try as she might, she couldn’t understand how he was able to walk with that much of an ease when certain responsibilities fell on his shoulders just because he was born. 

Her train of thought came to an abrupt stop when he looked at her as if he was expecting something. Those devastating eyes of his prickling her skin as his shades slip down slightly from his nose.

Shit. Did he ask something? Was she just stupidly looking at his face while she was lost in her own thoughts? Her brain racked itself inside and out but her senpai saved her from making an even bigger fool out of herself by repeating without her needing to ask,

“You a Clan baby?”

She blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m a Clan baby, too.” His shoulders shook from his own joke. A slight pout formed on his lips as he scanned her deadpan expression, “It’s just, I think I saw you in one of those, very much uninspiring, Clan meetings my parents forced me to attend.” The girl’s eyes furrowed, he came to those? When? Surely she wouldn’t have missed this much presence, much less forget it. 

As if he read her thoughts, which the girl would be grateful if he stopped doing, he answered,

“It’s wayyyy back, though. When I could still be bribed with sweets.”

“Oh. But uh,” She cringed at her own voice, clearing her throat to dispel the unnecessary ball of nerves in her windpipe. Why is she so nervous? “Yeah, I’m one.. I think.”

A singular ivory eyebrow raised at her statement, “I wasn’t aware that my question was something to be given with an ‘I-think’ answer.” This time she did feel her cheeks burn. Before an apology could spill from her lips, a bell chimed. Her senpai was already busting the door of the konbini open as if he owned the place. Her shoulders relaxed, grateful that his attention was diverted to something else.

That something, rather a someone, was the cashier of the konbini. A portly man holding his ground against the strongest sorcerer of this era.

“Get lost kid! There’s no way you won two times! You’re a cheat!” 

“Yes, of course, I enjoy my free time by engraving sticks to fraud a hundred-yen popsicle.”

A poorly stifled chuckle brought the two men’s attention to her. The cashier eyed her uniform,

“You with this menace, little miss?” The taller teen cackled, extending a hand toward her without looking away from the man behind the counter. Without missing a beat, she got what he’s asking for and handed him her own stick. With a lofty smirk, Gojo extended his hand to the baffled cashier, spreading the sticks like a deck of cards, flashing the ‘winner’ engraved part directly.  

“Pay up, old man.” His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as Abe-san, the cashier, guffawed in disbelief. His steps begrudgingly slow, they didn’t know if it was on purpose or he sincerely couldn’t carry his own weight, he opened the freezer, dropping three blue raspberry-flavored treats on the counter. 

“I oughta’ ban you here, kid. You always do this.” 

Opening his new treats in vigor, one hand extending the girl’s reward to her, he just scoffed, “That’s stupid. I keep this place alive.”

With nothing but a grin sent to Abe-san’s way, her senpai already began strutting to exit, leaving her to bow in apology to which the older man waved away,

“You’re good, little miss. This ain’t his first, most certainly will not be the last.”

She opened her own popsicle, exiting the konbini to see shaded eyes peering at her, treat in mouth as he motioned her back to where their friends were (hopefully) waiting. 

This time, silence occupied their small walk back, both student focused on the cold, sugary confections in hand. 

Now, though, as she finished hers, she turned her stick over.. and a second time more. But the stick was disappointingly un-engraved. A chortle sounded from beside her. Gojo leaning down to assess her predicament. An air of contentment surrounded him as he stood back, which should have irked her, if not for when he handed her his also finished stick.

It was her turn to quirk an eyebrow, Is he giving me his trash, now?   

And much like the first few times, he’d responded before she could even express her discontentment, 

“Looks like the first one was a coincidence, little miss.”   

The blue-eyed teen now running the few short distance to their other schoolmates, she was about to throw the sticks to the nearest bin, if not for the unmistakable etching on one of it. 

‘Winner’.

Looking back, she’s sure that the other frozen treat he’s shoving in his mouth held the same marking, too. 

[chxrryhansen]

hiii okay this is my first time asking something and is terrifying and you don’t have to do this of course

rafe cameron takes the shy girl out for a date at the beach and at the end he fucks her senseless

also can i be 💋 anon?? 

ofc you can bby!! and dont be scared omg i would love to hear each and every one of your thoughts! also if you have sent me a request in my asks i will get to it after i publish my concepts!

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

“your wine taste good sweetie?” he asked, his lips wrapping around the bottle in his hand, taking a swig of beer.

rafe surprised you, taking you to a private spot on his family owned beach; he had even hired a waiter to serve you underneath a beautiful open fale facing the jewel like ocean. contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend had never treated you poorly, never raising his voice, always buying you gifts and treating you like a princess. he practically worshiped the ground you walk on.

“mhm.” you nodded happily, sending him one of your famously shy smiles. his large hand reached across the table intertwining his fingers with your own much smaller ones.rafe had always been soft on you, you just seemed to have a way of comforting him with a sense of calming. he was so used to hearing crashing waves that he had forgotten what a calm ocean sounded like until he met you.

pushing his chair back he stands gently, keeping a hold of your hand. pulling you softly to stand. he leads you to the edge of the deck, standing behind you with his hands holding your hips as you lean over the wooden ledge, admiring the motionless sea and the crimson pink sky, watching as the sun begins to set.

“beautiful, huh?” he whispers, pressing kisses to your forehead. running his lips down til he reaches your neck, sucking and biting your soft skin gently.

you moan weakly at the sensation, clenching your thighs together to relieve some tension and throwing your head back in ecstasy. you push your hips further into his, listening to him grunt you begin to grind in circular motions, his grip tightening as he guides you, feeling his hard length in between your ass cheeks. His hands move from your hips to lift your dress over your ass.

At his newfound discovery he lets out a low whistle “no panties? naughty girl.” he drawls.

“t-touch me.. please rafe.” you whine, feeling hot underneath his gaze. His fingers run through your slit, gathering your sweet juices as you whine in pleasure, turning your head and watching as he lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking gently, panting at the taste of your sopping pussy.

“you know i love you, right honey?…” he whispered, pulling down his slacks, his hand wrapping around his fat cock, he begins rubbing his tip up and down against your hole, pushing his hips into you slightly, just deep enough that your walls began to swallow his thick mushroom tip as you cry out. you nodded shakily, tears streaming down your cheeks in anticipation.

“good. cause’ i’m gonna’ fuck you like i don’t.”

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, nonconsensual drug use, obsessive behavior, and gn!reader.

It was starting to rain.

When you’d let yourself into Neuvillette’s office, the sky had been clear and blue, the sun shining so brightly that you’d had to squint whenever you were facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the wall behind his desk, but clouds had gathered since then, smothering the light and casting the world in a dull, grey hue – only interrupted by the occasional bolt of webbed lightening or crack of thunder. It hadn’t started to fall yet, but it would. You’d lived in Fontaine long enough to know that storms never stopped at just an overcast sky.

You tried to find a window, to check if you could see the haze of rain in the distance, but your body ached at the thought of moving, a sharp shock of pain running from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. With some difficulty, you managed to turn your head, but a gloved hand wrapped around your chin and dragged you back into place before you could so much as hope to check on the storm’s progress. You let your eyes drift back to Neuvillette, a small frown tugging at the corner of your lips, but he seemed unaffected, too busy rutting his hips against yours and groping at your waist to notice your disappointment. He was probably distracted. Even in his best moments, he tended to be more oblivious than his stoic demeanor would let on. You loved your job, treasured the opportunity to tend to such an extensive archive, but your boss could be airheaded, prone to burying himself in his work for days at a time and taking hours to do little more than admire the way the sea broke against the shore. Things like your petty, mortal concerns weren’t really worth his attention.

…it was Neuvillette above you, right? You were still in his office, splayed across one of his velvet-lined love seats, and you could remember sharing a cup of tea with him after you stopped by to drop off the case files he’d requested, but this didn’t feel like something Neuvillette would do, and it didn’t look like Neuvillette above you. You could recognize a few disconnected features – silver hair, fine clothes, porcelain skin – but they were all misplaced, all distorted to the point of complete unrecognizability. His hair was unbound, falling around you in thick curtains and casting the world around you in a bleary haze of ivory, and his clothes were in a similar state of disarray, silk and leather wrinkled and disheveled, his shirt and undercoat torn open to reveal his heaving chest. His skin was worst of all, stained with a dull pink flush and marred with sweat and drool. His lips were bruised, swollen, and you could see a thin line of azure scales creeping up the side of his throat, slowly infecting his—

That pointed, acidic pain ran through you again, but you tried to ignore it, to block it out, to think about other things. Things you could understand. Things like the rain. You could hear it, now – pattering against glass, creating a near-deafening fog of numbing white noise. In the absence of anything else to occupy yourself with, your mind turned backward, first to the strange, bitter taste of the tea he’d served you, then further, to when you started your work with Neuvillette and how comforted you’d been by his steady hand and gentle smile. Eventually, you uncovered a well-buried conversation you’d had with your neighbor when you first came to Fontaine, something about a saying her children liked to repeat to the point of nausea when the rainfall forced them inside. It was about a monster, or... was it a dragon? It was hard to remember. It was hard to think.

You felt something wet fall onto your cheek. A raindrop, you figured, even if you couldn’t imagine the Palais Mermonia ever springing a leak. There was another, then another, raining down freely until you managed to lift a hand, finding Neuvillette’s cheek. “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon,” you mumbled, your voice rough, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t cry.”

A hitched sob, a face buried in the dip of your shoulder, Neuvillette’s skin cold as ice against your own. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the chill, the dampness, the throbbing ache now stitched into the fabric of your being, what little energy you still had waning until you couldn’t bear to keep your eyes open, until you were just some limp item underneath him. It was all you could do to hope that, by the time you woke up, the Neuvillette looking after you would be your own, that you’d be able to do more than blink and dream.

It was all you could do to hope that, by then, the storm will have passed and you’d be able to see the sun again.

[mrkis]

the way life goes — six(final). (n.jm)

PAIRING: na jaemin x reader GENRE: angst, fluff, smut, college au WORD COUNT: 18.5k

SYNOPSIS: it's crazy how everything had came to be in your life, you didn't expect anything to happen the way it did. but you suppose that's the way life goes.

CHAPTERS WARNINGS: absolute mess and head fuck as twlg always is, angsty just how i like it, mentions of heavy emotions, dumb reader and jaemin moments, eunbin and jaemin moments, mentions of alcohol and weed, explicit language (a lot of cursing), kissing, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex,

[series m.list]

Jaemin sleeps soundly for the first time that night.

He would argue that it’s probably the best sleep he’s had in ages—covered in blankets, wrapped up in your arms with his head resting on your chest, legs tangled together… he felt at peace.

He’s pretty sure he dreamt for the first time too. No recurring nightmares appearing or dreamless nights where he wakes up groggy, confused and lonely.

He dreamt. He dreamt of him, he dreamt of you. You looked so pretty—you always look pretty. You were smiling, you were laughing all while holding onto his arm and pointing at the sky. The sun was setting; a mixture of yellows, oranges and pinks. It would’ve been a beautiful picture to capture, especially with your silhouette in the shot.

The group were there too, running across that sand barefooted, screaming and shouting as the cold sea came to shore. But he wasn’t focused on them. He has his eyes set on you. 

But, much to his dismay, he wakes up before he can even finish the dream, and he wakes up alone.

His hand runs across the bed, a frown settling on his features at the cold touch of the sheets pricks his fingertips. Jaemin lifts himself up on his elbows as he stares at the empty spot with fuzzy vision, hair sticking in different directions and muscles aching. 

You’ve been out of bed for a while, He thinks while he sits up, sleeping rubbing at his face as he swings his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. He wobbles across his floorboards, blindly reaching in the dark to retrieve a clean pair of shorts to tug them up his legs to cover his modesty, fumbling to get to his bedroom door.

Jaemin steps out into the vacant hallway, squinting at the light that blinds his eyes as he walks towards the bathroom, dripping the doorknob and twisting with a call of your name, fully expecting you to be sitting on the toilet or even in the bathtub as he peers his head inside but grunts as he’s met with complete darkness, and a empty room.

His brows draw together in confusion as he pulls the door shut, turning to look over his shoulder to eye the closed bedroom doors of the other boys, not fully sure if they all came back home last night after they all ventured to the girls apartment.

Jaemin hovers outside of Yangyang’s bedroom, debating whether to open it up and take a quick peek inside to see if, for some reason, you were in there. But he’s met with darkness yet again, and an empty bed. 

He feels a little uncomfortable and majorly confused, flashbacks of waking up alone after his last night with Eunbin before she disappeared repeats in his head and he feels the panic build up in his chest, trying his best to calm his erratic heartbeat as he ventures downstairs and into the kitchen to grab himself a glass of cold water but flinches in shock when he switches on the light and sees Donghyuck sat alone at the kitchen island with his hand shoved in a cereal box.

Jaemin stares at him in bewilderment, “What are you doing?”

“I’m eating” Donghyuck answers simply, giving him an odd look as he shoves another handful of cereal into his mouth before bringing his attention back to his phone that lays across the marble countertop, scrolling through instagram. 

“Where is everyone?”

“Shotaro’s in his room sleeping, Renjun is with Haru and Yangyang and Jeno are walking Y/N back home”

Jaemin does a complete double take. “Walking her home?”

“She said she wasn’t feeling too good when we came in, caught her just by the door… was afraid she was going to throw up or something” Donghyuck explains to Jaemin who grows even more confused. “We were going to call her a cab but she said she wanted some fresh air so Jeno offered to walk her home. Yangyang tagged along because he got worried”

The panic inside of Jaemin builds at the thought of you not feeling okay, trying his hardest to remember how much alcohol you drank a few hours prior just in case you got too drunk, but he knows you didn’t drink that much and you were completely sober when you got back to the house. He then tries to remember if something had happened when the two of you were together in his room and if he had done something wrong or something to hurt you when you had slept together, but nothing comes to mind, he’s stuck. 

Jaemin leaves Donghyuck alone in the kitchen as he runs back upstairs, not bothering to continue on with the conversation as the latter shouts nonsense behind him about what could’ve possibly happened, too busy searching for his phone to call you.

It rings once, twice, three times before it goes to voicemail and Jaemin huffs, tapping the call icon again and sandwiches his phone between his cheek and shoulder to listen to it ring once again as he yanks open his closet in search for some pants and a shirt, desperate to find something to wear so he can head over to your apartment. 

“She’s home safe, you know” A voice interrupts from behind and Jaemin whizzes around to see Jeno standing in the doorway with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, head tilted to the side as he stares with Jaemin with an amused glint in his eyes when he sees the heap of clothes in front of him. “You can calm down”

“Is she sick?” Jaemin asks, pulling the phone away from his ears when it goes to voicemail yet again and he frowns.

“She doesn’t really seem herself,” Jeno admits, pressing his lips together as he figures out how to word his next question. “Did something happen between you both?”

“What? No” Jaemin's eyebrows furrow at that. “We’re fine. We talked when we got home—about the party and whatever. She was going to tell me something but we got carried away… did she say something to you?”

“Not a word” Jeno shakes his head, shifting on his feet as he straightens his back. “I don’t know if you know but Eunbin—”

“Dude, I don’t give a fuck about Eunbin right now” Jaemin cuts Jeno off with a deep sigh, his arms falling to his sides in exhaustion and annoyance. “Ever since she came back, all you guys have been doing is throwing her name around and shoving conversations about her in my face… I don’t care about Eunbin”

“Funny” Jeno scoffs, his tongue prodding at his cheek as he rips his hands out of his pockets to curl his fist around Jaemin’s bedroom door handle. “For someone that claims they don’t give a fuck about Eunbin, you sure hang out with her a lot”

Jaemin grits his teeth, “You know it’s not like that”

Jeno’s brows raise at that, “Do I?” And with that, Jeno slams the door shut, leaving Jaemin alone in his room with his thoughts.

 Walking out and ignoring Jaemin after spending the night with him is probably one of the stupidest decisions you have ever made, and you have made a few. 

A big part of you wanted to stay—to blurt out your full feelings and admit that you have grown to like him in a way you promised not to, but the conversation with Eunbin and lying about how there were no feelings involved weighed heavily on your chest and you felt guilty.

You felt guilty for lying, guilty for sleeping with him after telling Eunbin that you’d stop, guilty for leaving the second he fell into a deep sleep, guilty for not being selfish and getting what you want. 

But, as always, you’ve never been selfish. You’ve always been selfless, you like making other people happy even if it means hurting yourself. It’s a flaw that the girls have grilled you for more times than you can possibly count. 

You never learn, you never listen.

When Yangyang and Jeno walked you home that night, you could feel their curious and doubtful gazes on the side of your head, desperate to ask what was actually wrong and why you decided to leave early, clearly not taking the ‘I’m sick’ comment as an excuse. You hate how well they know you, but you were grateful they didn’t push for a real answer, there was no way you could be honest to them about what happened at the party. 

“What’s wrong?” Miwoo questions you the next morning at breakfast and you feel your shoulders slump. Miwoo, on the other hand, pushes for the answer while Haru observes, staring at you until you break yourself. This is not what you need. “You’ve been weird since you got home late last night”

“Hungover” You simply lie, twirling your spoon around the cereal bowl. “I drank too much”

Miwoo scoffs at that, “You hardly drank”

“I agree” Haru chimes in softly, watching you over the rim of her coffee as she takes a sip. 

“Nothings wrong,” You tell them.

“Okay”

“Stop it” You warn, pointing your spoon in Haru’s direction menacingly as if it will help, not appreciating the way the corners of her lips lift up in amusement. “I don’t like it when you assess me with your eyes, makes me feel nervous”

Miwoo grins, leaning on her elbow smugly. “Why would you be nervous if there’s nothing wrong?”

You huff in frustration, sliding down in your seat with a frown as you shove a spoonful of cereal in your mouth to not utter a single word to them, casting your eyes down to your bowl as they stare into you, waiting for you to crack. 

You hold your ground, refusing to make eye contact with any of them as you continue eating your breakfast but the quietness that surrounds you three with the occasional crunch of cereal and sip of coffee makes you feel like you’re losing your mind.

“Fine” You immediately crack, your spoon clanging against the bowl as you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn your head towards Miwoo. “I’ll speak if you tell us why you’re spending so much time with Sunwoo”

Miwoo gasps, palm of her hand slapping against her chest in shock. “Don’t turn this on me”

Haru slowly cranes her head to Miwoo almost comically. “Interesting”

“I saw you talk to him last night so I’m sure he spilled on what I asked from him” Miwoo tuts with a shake of her head. “I just wanted to have some fun and Sunwoo carries a lot of the fun. He didn’t give me anything, but I did sit down with him for like an hour and talked… It was strange, a good strange” 

You stare at her quizzically as you ask, “Do you like him?”

Miwoo snorts. “No. Since breaking up with Jeno, I’m done with relationships for now. I don’t need them”

“But?”

“But I like to think as myself as ‘sex positive’ so if the opportunity comes around where I can get dicked down then—”

“Okay, your turn” Haru cuts her off as she directs the conversation towards you, staring at you expectedly and you mentally groan, biting down on your inner cheek for even agreeing to spill the truth if Miwoo did first.

Honestly, you didn’t think Miwoo would actually talk about Sunwoo. You expected her to change the topic, to talk about something else like she usually does but of course, with just your luck, she was honest.

You sigh deeply, clearly a little frustrated and annoyed but you know your friends mean well. They’re curious—worried—about your sudden mood drop and how weird you’ve been acting since last night. They’re looking out for you, they care.

“I think I’m going to stop sleeping around with Jaemin” Your confession makes the girls freeze in confusion and shock, staring at you across the table and silently pleading for you to continue and explain. “I just thought that maybe it’s been going on for too long, you know”

Haru gives you a disappointed look, “You didn’t talk to him, did you?”

“I couldn’t” You shake your head, knowing what she’s hinting at. Your feelings towards Jaemin. “I couldn’t do it”

“Talk to him about what? How much you like him?” Miwoo asks nonchalantly as she takes a sip of her juice and your head snaps towards Haru for outing you out but she shakes her head, putting her hands up in defence and Miwoo snickers softly, “I figured it out. I’ve known for a while. I was just waiting for you to admit it out loud”

You frown deeply, “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really” Miwoo hums before sending you a smile, “I just know you. You're one of my best friends”

You blink at her sudden kindness, “Well that’s sweet”

Miwoo shrugs her shoulders with a smug grin as she leans back comfortably in her seat, “I try sometimes”

“I still think you should talk to him” Haru brings up the topic once again and your stomach flips with anxiety, a weight laying heavy on your chest. “You won’t know if he feels the same unless you talk to him about it”

“What if talking about it makes it worse?” You ask, voicing your fears with a shaken tone. “What if I’m standing there—blurting out my entire feelings and telling him that I broke the most important rule we made and then he rejects me or something?

“Rejection happens” Haru tells you quietly, giving you a small but tight lipped smile that does nothing to calm your nerves. “Rejection is a part of life. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, sometimes it’s not, but it happens. I think rejection helps us grow too. Sure, it fucking sucks but it’s a pain that will be forgotten in the long run. It’ll be okay”

“Also, there would be something seriously wrong with him if he rejected you” Miwoo chimes in, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you from across the table. “I’d date you if you confess your undying love to me”

You can’t help but smile in amusement at that, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. “Thanks, Miwoo”

Maybe you should’ve been completely honest to the girls on why you wanted to stop sleeping with Jaemin, and although you did admit a few of your worries like rejection and heartache, the thought of what Eunbin had asked of you left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You did weigh the pros and cons when you were alone in your room getting ready for the day. The pros being that they would have comforted you to the extreme, perhaps maybe even talked some sense into you and told you that it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while. 

The cons felt heavier, intense. They would have gotten mad, at you and definitely at Eunbin. Haru has always been silent but deadly with her anger while Miwoo has, without a doubt, been more physical and verbal. She would get her hands dirty if someone had hurt you, Haru or anybody she cared about, even herself. 

You didn’t want to cause a fight, that would be a little too dramatic.

You lean back in your chair at the library with a sigh, stretching out the aching muscles in your back and arms before placing down your pen and flexing out your fingers, the numbing sensation spreading to the tips, having been holding your pen in the same position for so long left a dull throbbing in your hand.

The heaps of notes, books and Donghyuck’s laptop that you borrowed from him once again splayed out in front of you proves how long you’ve been studying inside the library, and you mentally curse at yourself for spending your free period cramming all your work into one instead of grabbing a coffee with the others.

But you had your reasons.

A stack of books slam down on the desk in front of you and you jump in fright at the sudden noise, eyes widening in shock as your head snaps up to the culprit, ignoring the sounds of other students around you shushing you or warning you to be quiet as you see Jeno.

Usually, you would’ve scoffed and calmed down once settling your attention on Jeno, but with his jaw clenched and dark eyes staring at you through the messy strands that fall in front of his face, it’s hard for you to calm down. In fact, it makes you feel more scared. 

“Why are you ignoring Jaemin?”

“I’m not!!” You splutter, shaking your head. You are. “Keep your noise down, we’re in a library”

“I don’t care about the library” Jeno scoffs, pulling out the chair vacant opposite you and making himself comfortable, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at you expectedly. “Why are you ignoring Jaemin?”

“I told you, I’m not” You lie, gesturing towards the mess in front of you. “I’ve been busy with my assessments. The college life is stressful, you know”

“So it has nothing to do with the conversation you had with Eunbin?” That throws you for a loop and your lips press together tightly, unable to control the emotions that are easily now written upon your face and Jeno sighs, dropping his head low with a shake before looking back up at you. “What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Come on, you know you can’t lie to me,” Jeno says with a teasing smile. “Talk to me. I promise I won’t tell a soul” You give him a disbelieving look, “Okay, depends on what is it because sometimes I can’t keep my mouth shut when talking to Donghyuck—”

“Jeno” You cut him off with a frustrated sigh, rubbing your hand across your forehead at the headache that forms. Jeno frowns deeply at you, his efforts of making you laugh and crack a smile fails him, letting him know that whatever happened between you and Eunbin must’ve been serious. 

He calls your name softly and your hand drops to your lap as you gaze up at him, hating how worryingly he’s looking at you right now but you bite back any comment you want to make, swallowing thickly before you begin to talk again.

“I don’t want to continue being official and sleeping with Jaemin anymore” You admit, the heavy weight laying on your chest once again as Jeno’s eyebrows raise in shock. “I have been avoiding him… but that’s because I’m nervous to have the conversation with him. I’m making it worse”

Jeno’s quiet as he mumbles, “How come?”

“Feels like it’s gotten a little out of hand” You laugh softly, embarrassment filling your tone as you stare awkwardly at your fidgeting hands. “Rules were broken—important rules. I ended up breaking the main one”

Jeno takes a moment to register what you had just admitted, remembering the five rules Jaemin had told him during the early stages of your friends with benefits situation, and everything slowly begins to sink in, a genuine smile threatening to spill onto his lips as he stares at you, “You like him”

You nod quickly, feeling awkward and embarrassed for admitting something to someone like Jeno: Jaemin’s ultimate best friend. You feel a little stupid too, but you push down all regrets and worries as you mutter, “But I can’t like him”

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow, confused. “Why not?”

You finally meet his eyes across the table, giving him a tight lipped smile as the words pour from your lips. “Because Eunbin likes him too”

Jeno promised he wouldn’t tell anyone about your conversation with Eunbin after he made you explain everything in detail, wrapping his pinky tightly around yours to seal off the promise. 

The look of anger and annoyance written across his features worried you a little and at some point you were afraid he was about to burst and curse up a storm, but he kept his cool (much to your surprise) despite his facial expressions giving away exactly what he was thinking.

He accompanies you for his entire free period despite you telling him that you’re fine without the company but he ignores you as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, kicking his feet up on the empty chair beside him as he mindlessly scrolls. You scoff as you catch him glancing over at you from time to time. 

Jeno also decides to come with you when Donghyuck demands his laptop back when he and the others return from getting coffee, sending you an interesting text with a bunch of emojis and light-hearted threats if you don’t return his ‘prized possession’ back in one piece. 

You walk side by side with Jeno now, heading towards the outside grounds where you know the others will be waiting for your arrival and you grow a little nervous when you think about Jaemin. Would he be there? Did he have a free period to go and get coffee too? Or would he stay behind and catch up on his own work?

The questions leave you dizzy and annoyed, huffing at your thoughts which easily catches Jeno’s attention and he gives you a kind smile, reaching his hand up to your shoulder to dig his fingers into the pressure points, causing you to wince upon his first touch but slowly relax in complete bliss as you feel the tension slip away. 

You give him a dumb grin to which he snorts at.

“Hey” A familiar voice calls out and you crane your neck to the side, the grin slowly slipping from your lips as you see Jaemin emerge from a class with Junghoon, who you’ve grown to learn is his nosey seatmate, by his side. It seems like your questions are answered. He did stay.

Jaemin eyes the way Jeno’s fingers are dug into your shoulders, brow twitching upwards in question when he watches his hands slowly trail down your arm and drop to his sides casually, giving Jaemin a smile that, for once, Jaemin didn’t bother giving back.

Your mouth feels dry upon seeing Jaemin, unable to come up with a simple greeting when he makes his way towards you, but he stops abruptly when Junghoon tumbles into him and apologises profusely when he steps on the back of Jaemin’s shoe, yet Jaemin pays no mind to the small accident and instead swats Junghoon away when it dawns on him that he’s trying to follow behind.

Junghoon’s mouth drops open in offence, spinning around on his heel with a scoff and disappearing into the crowd, but not before giving you a wave to which you felt obliged to return and your hand falls to your side when Jaemin brings his attention back to you. 

“Hey” He greets you casually, but his brows pull together in concern as his eyes take you in, roaming your face with curiosity. “Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you but… it kept going straight to voicemail”

“Yeah, sorry” You apologise, the guilt immediately eating you up and you struggle to look him in the eyes even when he tries so hard to meet yours. “I wasn’t feeling too great and then I had assessments from Professor Moon, I just—” You gulp. “I’ve been busy”

“Are you feeling better now?” Jaemin asks you and you nod quickly, but abruptly stop when he asks the next question, “Are you still busy now?”

“I, well…” You pause, staring down at Donghyuck’s laptop in your hands before looking back up at him. “I have to give this to Donghyuck—”

“Jeno can give it back” Jaemin tells you, not even sparing a glance at Jeno who’s been silently watching the interaction this entire time, his hands shoved deep into his jean pockets with his jaw locked. You’re unsure of what to say back, but the urge to make up a lame excuse on why you should be the one to give Donghyuck his laptop back lays on the tip of your tongue. “I want to talk to you, alone”

You’re about to decline, to follow along with your excuse until you hear the faint ‘please’ that leaves his lips when you take a second too long to answer him. It leaves you crumbling, the walls that you’ve built up fall down just from that word and the tone that was used.

You hate how weak he makes you feel and you mentally scold yourself when you hand the laptop over to Jeno who’s already staring at you, trying to communicate with you through subtle glances but you simply nod at him to tell him that everything was okay, and maybe this could be your chance to end things with Jaemin once and for all.

Jeno bids you both a silent goodbye, giving one last look at Jaemin and Jaemin holds eye contact with him for a few moments before dropping his head low as he remembers the small dispute the pair had regarding himself and Eunbin—but Jaemin didn’t care about that right now, not when he finally has you here in person.

He offers his hand out for you to take and you feel a little dumb staring at it, debating in your head whether to hold it or not. You really want to hold his hand, to feel his warmth against your skin and get that comfort you’ve been yearning for, yet the guilt is quick to rise and the conversation with Eunbin comes to mind. You can’t take his hand.

But yet, you do. 

Your fingers slide through his before you can even register you’re doing it and the squeeze he gives your hand is enough to pull you out of your thoughts that swarm your head. You allow him to take you wherever he wants to go to talk to you alone and the anxiety that surges through your veins at the lingering eyes of others causes you to drop your head low to avoid their stares, especially Mia’s who watches with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her jaw clenched. 

“What’s going on?” Jaemin asks the question you have been dreading and the silence that fills the empty classroom he had pulled you inside for your one-on-one talk makes you feel uncomfortable, and a little nervous. 

You have no idea how to even talk to him, let alone start the conversation of ending whatever it is you both have. A friends with benefits situation, an official one. That’s all it has ever been. Your stomach twists and turns at that, refusing to make eye contact with him as you look elsewhere, focussing on a board with scribbles from its previous class.

Jaemin calls out your name softly and you almost jump when you feel the palm of his hands cup your cheeks to turn your attention on him, and your heart drops plummets in your stomach. The desperate look in his eyes, the curiosity—the worry—it makes you feel sick.

“I know you said you’ve been busy… but it kinda feels like you’ve been avoiding me” Jaemin laughs lightly despite the crushed tone, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones as his lips press together with a sigh. “Please talk to me”

“Jaemin, I—” You wanted to scream when you heard his phone shrill loudly in his pocket, ruining your chance to explain what was going on. Maybe it was a good thing you were getting interrupted, you weren’t exactly ready to end whatever you both had and truthfully, you didn’t want to.

Although you grow confused when Jaemin allows his phone to continuously ring, not bothering to check the caller ID and answer it as his attention is focused on nothing but you. You would’ve been entirely grateful if this was under a different circumstance, recalling the amount of times he’s answered the phone when you were together but you couldn’t ignore it, not with that annoying ringtone. 

Slipping your hand into his jean pockets, you fish out his phone and you barely bite back a scoff when you see Eunbin’s caller ID. You’re shocked at your complete 180 in attitude, being so used to feeling guilty and ashamed when being in Jaemin’s presence with Eunbin’s name running in your mind, but now you feel annoyed—resentful even.

“You should answer it”

“I don’t want to,” Jaemin immediately says.

“It hasn’t stopped you before” You bite back before you can stop yourself, your bitter tone catching Jaemin off guard and you sigh, closing your eyes in defeat. “I’m sorry—”

“Did she say something to you?” It was your turn to be caught off guard, your eyes snapping open to stare at Jaemin who’s hands drop to his side, head tilting to the side quizzically. 

Jaemin remembered his brief encounter with Jeno during the night you left, how Jeno had brought up Eunbin’s name but Jaemin was quick to shut it down, not wanting to know anything or even hear anything about his ex-girlfriend. 

But he can’t help but piece two and two together: you have been acting weird since Eunbin’s welcome home party and he’s almost certain he saw you and Eunbin together before he was pushed inside of her home by others who attended the party.

Instead of answering him like he wishes you would’ve, you look down at his phone in your hands and slide your finger across the answer button, shoving his phone in his grasp with force and collecting your belongings to leave him alone once again.

A gasp flies from your lips as you feel Jaemin’s fingers wrap around your wrist and tug you back to him, and you almost trip over your own feet if it wasn’t for his tight grip to keep you steady, staring at him in complete shock as he stares back with a unreadable expression on his face.

You hear Eunbin’s voice call out his name from the speaker: asking if he’s there, asking if he can hear her and what he’s doing, but he remains silent with his attention, yet again, focused on you and it makes your heart pound loudly in your ears. 

Your thoughts ramble together, unable to even come up with a clear thought to get you out of this situation. Instead, you do what you know best. 

You kiss him.

You don’t know why you kissed him, you don’t really know what brought on the urge to do so but you did. With your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curled around the hair at the nape of his neck, chest pressed against his, you kissed him hungrily—desperately.

It’s when you feel Jaemin respond to the kiss, letting his phone drop to the ground as his hands come up to rest on your waist that you realise what you’re doing and you recoil back in shock, eyes wide as you stare between him and his phone on the ground, baffled at what you just done.

Jaemin tries to reach back out to you, to bring you back to him and to kiss you again but you refuse, muttering a small apology as you finally gather your things and leave him once again.

It’s been two weeks since Jaemin last interacted with you in the classroom. 

There’s been brief moments where he encountered you with the group, but it’s obvious now when you avoid his gaze or make up some excuse to go somewhere else or that you’re busy, and Jaemin is tired.

What makes it worse is that it seems everyone else around him is knowing what's going on while he’s left alone in the dark to figure it out himself. It makes him upset, even though he’d never admit it out loud to anyone. 

It makes him upset to see you avoid him so quickly, to refuse to meet up with him alone or to talk to him. He’s tried calling you, he’s tried texting you—hell, he’s even tried to talk to Haru and Miwoo who give him nothing in return but a sharp look or disappointing gaze.

He’s sick of it.

Jaemin’s not sick of you, he doesn’t think he could be ever sick of you. He’s sick of the hushed whispers he hears from the group, how they refuse to tell him what’s going on. He’s sick of the looks he gets from them whenever Eunbin makes a sudden appearance to talk to him, whether it’ll be through a phone call or in person. 

He knows Eunbin’s trying to get on good terms with him, to rebuild a friendship with him while she’s back. Some part of him admires Eunbin for her efforts as Jaemin doesn’t bother giving anything back apart from some half-hearted replies or sounds of acknowledgement when she says something to him, but the other part of him is annoyed at how she can pretend that nothing ever happened and that because he forgave her for his closure, Eunbin thinks it’s fine to worm her way back into his life with his friends (who clearly hate her). 

Jaemin feels conflicted. He hates awkwardness and he hates the tension, and he’s not the best when it comes to uncomfortable situations. He can, however, have his moments when it comes to other people. He doesn’t mind being confrontational if it helps the other person, but when it comes to himself he would avoid it at all costs. 

He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he wants his friends to be happy and he most importantly wants you to be happy. Eunbin? He ponders her name for a moment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares at his blank computer screen. Eunbin is not his priority. He doesn’t really care about Eunbin’s happiness.

So why was he trying so hard to keep the peace on both ends? Jaemin grows frustrated again, trying his best to clear his thoughts as he busies himself with his computer, editing a picture he had taken of Shotaro recently but he gets distracted when he hears his phone vibrate relentlessly on his desk and he picks it up, brows pulling together as he sees the main groupchat is active. 

[ 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗨'𝗦 𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗔𝗥 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦 — 𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗣𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗧 ]

donghyuck: sunwoos having a party tonight donghyuck: he invited all of us and said he’s got the goods covered donghyuck: i think i love him a lil 

yangyang: i’m down [donghyuck hearted this message]

renjun: who the fuck changed the groupchat name.

miwoo: me❤️

renjun: change it back.

yangyang: 🗣️rare sight of renjun getting overprotective over his gf 🗣️

donghyuck: i screenshot already👍 [yangyang liked this message] [renjun disliked this message]

miwoo: haru is the only one with a big bank account tho bc she works miwoo: its fitting dont u think????

donghyuck: idkkk donghyuck: just wait until me n jeno start our onlyfans account

jeno: 🤨

yangyang: wait hyuck why not ask m e????

donghyuck: no offence but jeno would bring in the views

yangyang: you right you right 

jeno: anyway jeno: im down for the party jeno: haven’t had one in a while

renjun: you had one last weekend.

yangyang: we literally hosted a party last weekend????

donghyuck: did you get so fucked up you forgot we had one last weekend???

jeno: shut up jeno: are we all going or not [yangyang, donghyuck and miwoo liked this message] jeno: what abt renjun, haru, shotaro, yn & jaemin???

miwoo: renjun goes if haru goes miwoo: and shotaro goes if renjun and haru goes [donghyuck questioned this message]

donghyuck: uh no donghyuck: shotaro goes if ME and YANG go

miwoo: idk abt that :/

shotaro: i go if you all go :)

donghyuck: i love you

haru: me and renjun can’t go tonight, we’re packing for our weekend trip

miwoo: THE FCK??? 🤨🤨🤨 miwoo: WHAT WEEKEND TRIP???? miwoo: and without me???

you: haru and renjun have planned this trip for like weeks, that’s why haru asked for more shifts at work [haru hearted this message] [renjun liked this message]

renjun: at least someone listens.

donghyuck: wait what teh fuck

miwoo: thats what im SAYING

donghyuck: what happened to group trips </3 do we not do those anymore </3 

miwoo: ^ ^ ^

donghyuck: this friday is the worst friday to have ever friday [miwoo emphasised this message]

shotaro: is this our first time seeing miwoo and hyuck agree on something?? [donghyuck and miwoo disliked this message] shotaro: sorry.

yangyang: where are u guys going??

renjun: none of your business.

haru: rented out a beach house!

donghyuck: BEACH TRIPS ARE OUR THING!!!!!???

miwoo: how are me and yn going to survive without haru miwoo: i feel so lonely already </3

haru: i’ll be gone for three days…

miwoo: and??? miwoo: do u know how long that is????

yangyang: 3 days lol [miwoo disliked this message]

donghyuck: 3 days??? [miwoo disliked this message]

renjun: 3 days. [miwoo disliked this message]

miwoo: ok stfu

jeno: we’re getting side tracked. jeno: yn? jaemin? party??? 

you: idk you: i’ll think abt it

yangyang: thats a yes yangyang: because i’ll be dragging ur ass out

donghyuck: me too ;)

jeno: jae??

jaemin: no.

And with that, Jaemin shuts off his phone and drops it beside him on his desk, leaning back in his chair with his head in his hands, rubbing at his face in frustration as his chest tightens with an uncomfortable feeling. He hates this.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but, why are you even here right now?” Haru questions you with a quick glance over her shoulder as she restocks the vinyls, rearranging them in alphabetical order for Johnny’s liking.

She spins to face Renjun for a brief moment with a grin, holding up a vinyl with the words ‘COLOURFUL TRAUMA’ scrawled across the front in block letters and Renjun nods, opening up his little ‘misfits’ tote bag and allowing her to shove the vinyl inside for later purchase. 

“Can’t I just come visit you at work?” You question back, finding offence as you frown at her. Your arms cross over your chest as you lean against a pillar, raising a brow in her direction. “Is it wrong for me to want to hang out with you?”

Renjun scoffs, “You’re so dramatic” You retaliate by throwing up your middle finger and Renjun does the same with a smile, causing Haru to give you both a pointed look, clearly unimpressed with your attitudes towards each other.

“I think you’re stalling” Haru tells you, turning back to the vinyls. “He’s not going tonight, you know. Ditch the party and actually talk to him… avoiding him isn’t going to make either of you feel better”

“I can’t bring myself to do it” You admit, staring down at your shoes in disappointment. “I don’t want to end whatever we have for my benefit… but not only do I not know how he feels about me, I have Eunbin waiting to make her move and get her second chance”

“Eunbin doesn’t deserve a second chance” Renjun says, causing you to look at him. “And honestly? I don’t think Jaemin is dumb enough to give her a second chance. At this point she’s just making a complete fool out of herself”

Your lips curl into a frown, “Doesn’t that mean technically that I’m making a complete fool out of myself too?”

Haru turns her head towards you abruptly, “What makes you say that?”

“Think about it,” You start, uncrossing your arms to count off your fingers. “I’ve fallen for him without knowing how he feels about me. I broke the most important rule we had made which, shocker, is the don't fall for each other rule. I’m practically stalling everything just so I don’t have that conversation with him and potentially lose him… I’m a fool”

“You’re just scared—”

You blink at Haru, “That makes me feel so much worse”

“It’s okay to be scared, you know” Renjun speaks this time and you’re surprised by his soft and caring tone, eyes wide as you look over at him. Renjun rolls his eyes at your expression, “I can be nice sometimes”

“Yeah, and it’s creepy” You tell him, causing Renjun to scoff and Haru to laugh at her boyfriend, patting him on the shoulder before resuming in her work. “I know it’s okay to be scared, by the way… I just hate feeling it and I want to get rid of it. I wish I could pull an Eunbin and leave on a trip”

Haru sucks through her teeth, gently whacking you on top of the head with a vinyl. “Don’t use that writing trip as an escape”

Renjun snorts at your choice of words, “Pull an Eunbin”

“It was a joke” You tell her, rubbing the top of your head despite it not actually hurting you. “I have been thinking about it though. Professor Moon asks me about it from time to time, and I still have Mr Nakamoto’s details on a note somewhere in the bottom of my bag”

“Go on the trip if it’s something you really want, but don’t go on the trip if you’re using it as an escape route to avoid Jaemin” Haru gives you a hard look and you’re a little startled, not expecting her to give you that type of expression. “You’ll be worse than Eunbin if you do that”

Renjun spares you a quick glance, “Don’t be Eunbin”

You frown at that, the thought of becoming something like her leaving an uncomfortable feeling on your chest. You regret the joke you made moments prior about pulling an Eunbin and leaving—you’d never do something like that, that would be the last thing you’d do. Jaemin would, truthfully, be one of the first people you’d tell if you decided to go on the trip, remembering how excited he was for you when you first mentioned it to him. 

You wouldn’t do that to him—you wouldn’t leave without telling him, no matter what type of situation you’re both in.

“Do you want a job or something?” The sudden but familiar voice causes you to slowly turn around on your heel, eyes zoning in on Johnny who’s standing behind you with a pudding cup in hand and a spoon in the other, staring at you with a deadpan expression as he raises his spoon to his mouth.

“What?”

“You’re here all the time.” Johnny points out, the corner of his lips subtly twitching which gives you the impression he’s teasing you. “Do you want a job or something? Help organise the shelves? Be my assistant?”

“Fuck off, Johnny”

“Are you really going on a trip?” Miwoo frowns, sitting on the edge of Haru’s bed as she watches her pack her final belongings for the weekend getaway. 

When Haru had finished her shift this evening, she rushed home with you to pack while you had to shower and get ready for Sunwoo’s party. (Miwoo’s orders. You didn’t feel like crossing Miwoo today.)

You’re prettied up alongside Miwoo, wearing your favourite outfit along with some silver jewellery and heavy makeup that you think definitely pulls the look in all together—you praise Miwoo for her talents. And despite not wanting to go in the first place, you have to admit that you feel much better after seeing your reflection. 

“Yes, I’m really going on this trip,” Haru tells her as she’s shoving some hygiene products into her bag. “Why do you keep asking me?”

“The longest I’ve been without you is five hours,” Miwoo explains. “You’re going for three days—how am I going to cope?”

Haru snorts, “Mi—”

“No, seriously. What should I do?” Miwoo deadpans. “You’re, like, my anchor. What am I going to do?”

“It’s three days” Haru repeats to her as she places a comforting hand on Miwoo’s shoulder and gives her a warm smile. “You’ll be fine… plus, you can just call me if you want”

“Everyday?”

Haru gives her a look, “Don’t push it”

“Worth a shot” Miwoo grins before she shoots up from Haru’s bed, quickly excusing herself to retrieve something for her as she dashes out of the room. You snort at her behaviour, turning your head to look at Haru who seems a little uneasy and bothered, it makes you frown.

“Can you do me a favour?” Haru asks you before you can even get the chance to question what was wrong, but you nod anyway. “Keep an eye on Miwoo”

“I mean, I will, but,” You pause, brows pulling together. “Why?”

“She spoke to me last night about some stuff—well, she hinted towards some things about herself and about Jeno. How weird and lost she feels, how different things seem to be without having Jeno there in her life as a boyfriend” Haru explains to you quietly, keeping her voice low and glancing towards her bedroom door to make sure Miwoo wasn’t returning back yet. “Don’t get me wrong, Miwoo can be independent… but I think she also depended on Jeno a lot in some weird sense. I know that people called us the trio, but—”

“It was always Jeno and Miwoo” You finish and Haru nods with a gentle hum, confirming you were right. “I’ll keep an eye on her… I’ll try and talk to her too”

Haru laughs softly, “Good luck with that, Miwoo doesn’t open up easily”

“Found it~” Miwoo sings happily from the hallway as she comes bounding back into Haru’s room, holding something in her hand. 

You watch as she excitingly hands the box over to Haru who looks at it sceptical before unwrapping the pink ribbon from around the box, sliding the top off before slamming it back on with a shocked expression, eyes wide as she stares over at Miwoo who grins.

You’re curious to know what’s inside the box, fingers itching to reach out and see why Haru had caused such a reaction but before you could even get a chance to question it, Haru’s already reacting once again. 

“You’re crazy. You’re insane… how did you even find this?”

“I’ve very persuasive” Miwoo’s grin widens as she settles down on the bed beside you. “Surprisingly had a little help from Sunwoo too—He knew a few people and luckily I’m good at getting what I want”

“Miwoo…” Haru whines with a pout, dropping the box on the bed and launching herself at Miwoo who happily welcomes her with open arms, squeezing her tightly to her chest with a joyful giggle as Haru embraces her while muttering gibberish under her breath.

Feeling left out, you immediately reach for the box and take a peek inside, instantly making a noise of recognition as you see the sage green mesh dress that’s been sitting in Haru’s wishlist for a few months, knowing how badly Haru was wanting the pretty dress and even saving up for it alongside her savings for her weekend vacation away with Renjun. 

You immediately awe out loud, looking over at Miwoo who is beaming with happiness, wrapping her limbs awkwardly around Haru who tries to free herself this time, pinching Miwoo’s thighs in an attempt to force her to let her go and Miwoo’s reluctantly frees her when she squeezes a little too hard.

“I want to hit you for buying this but I also want to kiss you” Miwoo immediately puckers her lips as that confession but Haru places the palm over her hand over her face. “How did you have the money to buy this? Do you realise how expensive it is?”

“I told you. Sunwoo knows people and I’m good at getting what I want” Miwoo explains as she pushes Haru’s hand away. “But if you want the full details… We all know Sunwoo’s parents are rich so they’re involved with a lot of people. When I met up with him for a smoke, he told me that one of the girls he plugs for owns a family boutique. She owed him for the last ‘service’ so I asked if I could get the dress”

“I’m pretty sure this dress costs more than Sunwoo’s goods”

“I don’t know about that…” You pitch in this time, looking between Haru and Miwoo. “Sunwoo does sell some high quality shit. That’s why he’s so popular”

Miwoo clicks her fingers at you, “Exactly”

“When I come back from vacation, I hope you realise I’m paying you everything back”

“Shut up” Miwoo scoffs, shaking her head while gently glaring at Haru before her lips curl into a smile. “You can pay me back by never leaving me again” Haru gives her a blank look to which Miwoo shrugs her shoulders innocently, the smile dropping from her face. “No, I'm serious. I get separation anxiety”

Standing in Sunwoo’s kitchen with him on your one side with Miwoo on the other wasn’t exactly in your plans for this party, nor was striking up a conversation with him as he sits upon the countertop while rolling a joint expertly between his fingers, selling them to people who strolled by and shoved money in his hands. 

You almost snorted when you first witnessed him alone, emoji stickers plastered across his face and glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose and you dared to ask why he was covered in such things, only prompting an actual laugh out of you when he said some girls stuck them on his face as a thank you gift for hosting a party. 

But you immediately stop laughing and stare at him unimpressed as he pulls a lips emoji sticker off his cheek to put it on your own, patting the area softly with a sluggish grin before peeling a devil emoji off his glasses and pressing it in the middle of Miwoo’s forehead, causing her to drunkenly grin as she pulls out her phone to take a picture of you three.

“You know,” Sunwoo begins as he rolls another joint, taking a quick glance at you. “As much as I love you hanging out with me right now, Eric is upstairs. He’s going to come find me soon and if you still want to ignore him, now’s your best chance to go find your friends”

“Thanks for the heads up” You tell him appreciatively, shocked that he’s even letting you know about Eric’s whereabouts. You look over at Miwoo, “I’m gonna go find Shotaro—”

“I think you should talk to him though”

Your head snaps towards him, and so does Miwoo’s.

“I’m not saying you should forgive him” Sunwoo adds as he studies your face. “I’m saying you’re going to end up spending the majority of your life trying to avoid him, making things harder and awkward for yourself. Just talk to him—tell him how he made you feel, hear whatever he has to say back, decide whether he deserves forgiveness or not and get your closure”

Closure. That word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Seeing firsthand how Jaemin’s closure has worked out between him and Eunbin, how Eunbin has easily wormed her way back into his life as if nothing happened… you don’t want to go down that path, you refuse, especially with Eric. 

You can’t. 

“I’ll pass” You grab your drink and leave the kitchen, pushing your way through the crowd of sweaty bodies who grind upon each other, allowing the music to take over their rhythm. 

You decline when a girl from your class taps your arm to come join her and her little group, pointing to your cup to subtly tell her you want to finish your drink first and she nods, allowing you to slip by and continue on walking. 

Shotaro is the first person you see and a genuine smile spreads across your lips when you see him talking with Yeji in the far corner of the room, how his cheeks bloom a slight shade of red as her hand caresses the bruise on his face, courtesy of Hyunjin’s punch. 

(You even fight the urge to awe out loud when she leans over to kiss it.)

Not wanting to interrupt their moment, you venture out to find Donghyuck or Yangyang instead, maybe even Jeno if you’re lucky. But, much to your dismay, you can’t find them anywhere and you feel a little silly being left alone.

You’re starting to miss Haru and Renjun, maybe even Jaemin too. 

You exhale deeply and tug your phone out of your pocket as you make your way out to the backyard, eyeing the couples that kiss in the pool and others who cannonball in, three drunk guys sitting on the sidelines scoring them.

Sitting yourself down on an empty garden chair, you sip your beer as you scroll through your phone, hearting Haru and Renjun’s posts on Instagram as they posted that they finally arrived at their destination, leaving a small comment for them to have fun and stay safe to which she, and Renjun too (shockingly), replied back with heart emojis.

You continue to scroll mindlessly, liking other posts from mutuals and you snort when seeing an old post of Yangyang but you feel your chest tighten and your amusement drop when you see a recent post of Jaemin’s, thumb hovering over the heart button. 

‘Taken with my favourite polaroid’, the caption reads and you sigh softly, pressing your lips together. It’s the polaroid you bought him, the one he hasn’t stopped using since you gifted it to him. 

You’d be lying if you said that the caption didn’t affect you, leaving your heart warm and fuzzy. And you’re not sure what pushed you to do it but you tap the comment section of his post, seeing a few comments from his classmates and one that leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Eunbin.  

She left a smiley face emoji under the photo, a comment that wasn’t liked apart from the others and you begin to wonder if you should comment to, just to test if he would like yours but you figured that would be too toxic and silly, deciding to just heart the photo and continue scrolling but you pause when a notification from Jaemin comes up on your phone the second you heart it, causing your brows to follow as you tap his message.

jaemin: are u at the party?

you: yeah

jaemin: are u drunk?

you: tipsy you: i’ll be fine

jaemin: typing… jaemin: typing… jaemin: typing…

You gnaw at the nail of your thumb, watching the three bubbles on the screen as you wonder what he’s about to say next.

jaemin: stay safe jaemin: i’ll come get u if u need me

Your bottom lip starts to quiver, heart rate increasing as your emotions get the best of you, wanting to spill some tears at a simple and kind message. You shut off your phone, shoving it into your pocket as you bring the beer bottle up to your lips to chug, tears brimming in your eyes and making your vision blurry.

You do need him. You hate to admit it, but you do need him. More than ever. You don’t want to lose him, you don’t want to stop seeing him because of Eunbin wanting a second chance. Maybe you deserve to be a little selfish once in a while

But it dawns on you that you don’t exactly know how Jaemin feels. 

The frustration soon starts to build inside you, realising how secretive and quiet Jaemin is about his feelings, how he doesn’t allow anyone to have a dip inside his head to know what he’s thinking of feeling in that given moment.

You hardly know anything about him, and that’s because he doesn’t let you. 

“There you are” A familiar voice coos from behind you and you peer your head over your shoulder to see Yangyang stumbling towards you, eyes red with a dumb grin and you laugh as he pulls a vacant garden chair beside you to sit down, knocking his shoulder against yours. “I’ve been looking for you”

“Sorry” You mutter, staring down at the almost empty beer bottle in your hands. “I needed fresh air”

“Me too, it was stuffy in there” Yangyang agrees as he mindlessly drums his fingers on his thighs, staring out at the others in the pool. “You missing Haru and Renjun?”

You exhale deeply, “Very”

“Same” He hums, pressing his lips together as he takes a quick glance at you. “Are you missing Jaemin?”

“Just feels different without everyone here” You say, not wanting to jump into full details about how you really are missing Jaemin even if you don’t want to admit it out loud. “I like it when we’re all together”

Yangyang nods slowly to agree with you and silence falls upon you both for a while, basking in each others presence as you watch the other partygoers, some still flinging themselves into the pool or dancing on the well kept grass to the music that plays loudly from the speakers. 

“You look pretty, by the way” Yangyang’s sudden compliment doesn’t surprise you, always have been used to this type of behaviour from him and you roll your eyes as you turn to face him, finally looking straight at him since he first arrived to sit with you and you notice the change in his features, how the grin he had falters into a frown. “Have you been crying?”

You scoff, feeling a little embarrassed. “No”

“Wow…” He gasps dramatically, reaching out to touch your face, his thumb wiping the tears that bubble in the corner of your eyes. “You’re pretty when you cry too? How the fuck is that fair? Hm?” His over the top acting has you struggling to keep your expression stoic. “I look ugly as fuck when I cry… What the hell?”

“Shut up” You crack, a laugh slipping past your lips as you swat his hand away. “Stop it”

“But you are,” Yangyang smiles, dropping his hand from your face to your lap, fingers skimming over your own. He nudges your shoulder gently, “I have this ugly picture of drunk Miwoo crying into a bowl of spaghetti if you want to see it? Surely that would make you feel better, right?”

“You’ve got to stop taking pictures of people drunk”

Yangyang shrugs his shoulders, “Blackmail. You all have photos of me too” He meets your eyes again, turning serious this time. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—”

“Don’t lie to me” Yangyang cuts you off immediately and this time, he grabs your hand to lace your fingers in a comforting hold. “I know you too well, so don’t lie to me” He squeezes your hand gently. “Tell me”

And you do. You tell him everything.

Everything about Jaemin, everything about Eunbin—even everything about yourself and your feelings, and Yangyang listens to you so intently, concern and sadness written across his features as he nods along with your words.

Yangyang’s chest tightens as he listens to your problems, especially regarding Jaemin as he hears you admit how much you had fallen for him despite it being the number one rule. His heart breaks seeing how sad you are, how the tears threaten to spill again and he wishes he could help make you feel better, to see that smile on your face that he loves so much. 

Love. That word makes him feel a little sick, his stomach swirling uncomfortably at the new and unusual feeling. He’s never loved anyone romantically before, that’s all new and foreign to him. He never expected himself to ever fall in love with someone, especially with how comfortable he is with hook-up culture and how normal is it for him.

Love is scary. It leaves his palms sweaty and he grimaces whenever there’s something romantic happening between him and someone else, which is why he always sets boundaries, boundaries that are not meant to be crossed.

But yet, when it comes to you, maybe love to Yangyang doesn’t sound so bad.

“There’s something I want to tell you…” Yangyang interrupts you, voice soft and timid. Once you look at him, you notice that he’s staring at the ground, refusing to meet your gaze as his fingers timidly place with your own. “It’s important. It’s been on my mind for a while and I… I just need to get it off my chest”

“Okay” You say, nodding your head with a smile despite the anxiety that buzzes through your veins at his unusualness. “What is it?”

“I…” Yangyang suddenly pauses, staring straight at you as you stare back at him, waiting for him to speak. He wants to do it, to tell you everything that he’s been feeling, to finally get it out into the open and be free of all the thoughts inside of his head.

Yangyang has always been honest with his feelings—blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t beat around the bush when being completely real with someone, so why is he hesitating when he comes to you?

He stares at you a little longer, noticing how red your ears are, how your makeup is slightly smudged from crying, how swollen and bitten your lips are from trying to conceal yourself from any more tears and sadness.

His shoulders sag slightly, exhaling through his nose in defeat as he grips your hand in his own. “I’m proud of you, I always have been. You’re strong and I admire that about you, and I just—” He feels his eyes burn, tears threatening to appear but he holds back with a harsh swallow. “I promise that everything will work out in the end. You’ll be happy… you deserve to be happy. Don’t let anyone, including Eunbin, ruin that for you”

Whatever you were expecting Yangyang to tell you, it definitely wasn’t that. You can’t help but stare at him in shock, taking in his words with a warmth in your chest. You feel emotional and you bite back the urge to make another fool out of yourself by crying but you’re aware of the tears that are already forming in your eyes.

“That was pretty cheesy of you” You joke, unable to hide your smile as a tear drips down your cheek. Yangyang laughs lightly and squeezes your hand once again, using his other hand to wipe the tear away and he caresses your cheek softly, and that’s when you notice the pain in his eyes.

“I love you” He whispers to you so gently that you barely hear him. “You’re my best friend, and I love you”

“I love you too” You repeat back, swatting his hands away so you could lean forwards to embrace him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his arms slide around your waist, holding you tightly to his chest with his fingers clutching the back of your dress, not wanting to let you go just yet as the tears freely spill down his cheeks, completely unbeknownst to you.

Jaemin lets out a soft grunt as he raises his arms above his head, bones cracking from the hunched over position he had held for so long over his computer, eager to finish a few photos that were left untouched in his folder, using at as an excuse to get his mind off of everything that was going on. 

He keeps glancing over at his phone, wondering if you would take him up on his offer to help you if you need it, but his mood defleats more and more when it buzzes and your name doesn’t show up on the screen. 

It’s Eunbin’s name that does, asking him if he went to Sunwoo’s party and if he would like to hang out if he didn’t go, wondering if they wanted to go for beers somewhere else or even get a bite to eat.

He ignored every single one, he wasn’t in the mood to do anything but work on his photos and he sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to be around drunk people, apart from you. 

Jaemin sighs as he reaches for his phone, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he opens up your chat to see that you’ve left him on read, his fingers tapping anxiously against the sides of his phone.

He wonders if you’ll take him up on his offer if you need someone to come get you and he contemplates on sending another text just to let you know that he was serious about coming to get you if needed, or texting to see if you were still tipsy or getting sober. 

But he decides against it when his phone pings again with another notification from Eunbin and he locks his phone, throwing it back on the desk as he runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sigh, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he stares at the computer screen.

Jaemin returns back to his work without another thought, wanting to focus on his main priority of getting this photo done until he hears the front door slam downstairs and his fingers hover above his mouse, listening intently to the sound of someone cursing under their breath as they trip and stumble up the staircase, heading towards the bedrooms. 

He believes it’s Jeno at first, knowing how he likes to go straight up to his room after indulging himself in a few beers and shots, and fall asleep to wake up early in the morning and workout the hangover away. 

But he’s surprised when the door to his own bedroom is forced open to see Yangyang standing in the hallway, swaying side to side slightly with a beer bottle in hand. He leans against the door frame to take a sip of the concoction, eyeing Jaemin who stares back unamused.

“What have you done?” Yangyang suddenly asks him and Jaemin is slightly taken back by the question, but he doesn’t show it, opting to just glare at him and he takes note of how glossy his eyes are. It makes Jaemin’s brows furrow when he realises he must’ve been crying and Jaemin bites back the urge to ask him what’s wrong. “I said, what have you done?”

“What are you talking about?” Jaemin mutters with a roll of his eyes, turning his attention back to his computer as he shakes his head. “Get out of my room if you’re going to talk about something stupid. I don’t want to hear it—”

Jaemin’s cut off by Yangyang’s dry chuckle, making him sound a little crazy. “She’s upset, you know. The last time I saw her that upset was when the Eric bullshit happened… So, what have you done?”

Jaemin’s chest tightens at the thought of you being upset, but he can’t help but frown in annoyance as he looks back at Yangyang. “What makes you think I did something wrong? She’s the one that’s been actively ignoring me this entire time, I’ve tried to get her attention and she leaves. I call her, she ignores me. I message her and she either leaves me on read or gives me blunt replies. I’m trying, Yang”

“So you think you did nothing wrong?”

“No, I just—fuck—I don’t know what I—” Jaemin’s words die down in the back of his throat when he notices Yangyang staggering towards him, feeling slightly uncomfortable and intimidated with the way he’s being looked at by him. 

Never in his years of knowing Yangyang would he think he would come across as intimidating, or scary for that matter, but with Yangyang standing in front of Jaemin with his face a little too close for his liking, Jaemin has never been so uncomfortable and nervous around Yangyang in his life.

Yangyang’s hazy eyes dance over Jaemin’s face, a halfhearted laugh slipping past his lips, the stench of alcohol and weed hitting Jaemin’s nose which makes him grimace. Yangyang’s eyes swirl with anger, sadness and regret, but it doesn’t stop him from slowly raising his hand to pet Jaemin’s blonde head of hair, not even sympathetically, Yangyang was hurting him a little with his rough touch.

“Talk to Eunbin” Yangyang tells him, dropping his hand from his head to grab his phone and shove it into Jaemin’s hands. 

Jaemin’s eyes narrow in on Yangyang, “What?”

“Talk to your ex-girlfriend and ask her about the conversation she had with Y/N” Yangyang knows he shouldn’t have said what he said, having promised you that he wouldn’t tell Jaemin about what happened between Eunbin and you. But he couldn’t stand back and continue watching you get hurt anymore, not when he cares about you so much. “Maybe it’ll finally knock some fucking sense into your head”

Jaemin watches wordlessly as Yangyang leaves his room, slamming the door shut behind himself as he disappears into his own room and Jaemin’s attention drops to the phone in his hands, brows pulled together in confusion at Yangyang’s demands. 

But surprisingly, it doesn’t stop him from unlocking his phone to bring up Eunbin and his chat, ignoring the multiple messages she had left behind as his thumbs tap the screen, tongue prodding at his inner cheek as he presses sent.

jaemin: i want to talk to u 

“Hi” Eunbin greets him with a pretty smile the next morning, gesturing to the empty seat opposite her in the Dreamies Café and Jaemin slumps down in the seat, staring across the table at Eunbin blankly. “I’m sorry about last night. I completely drank too much and sent a whole bunch of embarrassing messages to you, and then I passed out. I’m really sorry”

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to wait an entire night to talk to Eunbin due to the previous conversation he had with Yangyang, how questions repeatedly circled in his head and how he was desperate for answers.

It seemed that your unusual actions were because of the conversation you had with Eunbin, as he tried to ask you before in the classroom, and last night it dawned on him after his brief encounter with Yangyang how serious it must’ve been.

Jaemin just wants to get to the bottom of this.

“I bought you an iced americano, by the way” Eunbin speaks up once again, sliding the plastic cup over the table towards him with another smile. “Extra shot, just how you like it”

“Thanks” He says as his fingers curl around the cup, not in the mood to drink as his other hand fiddles with the green straw, swirling the ice around the drink. 

“So,” She leans her elbows on the table, eyes sparkling. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Your conversation with Y/N at your welcoming party” Jaemin immediately answers and Eunbin’s face drops. He eyes her for a few seconds, watching how she uncomfortably shifts in her seat as she sits up straight. “What was it about?”

“Jaemin, I—”

“Don’t lie” His sharp tone surprises Eunbin. “I can’t handle being lied to right now”

“We were just talking about me,” Eunbin says softly as she fiddles with the rings that decorate her fingers, twisting the ring that should belong to him on her middle finger. He glances down at it, the pretty black gemstone taunting him and he snaps his attention back to her. “We talked about me in New York, how stupid I was for doing what I did and leaving you behind”

Jaemin fights the urge to roll his eyes, “Anything else?”

“We talked about you—your friends with benefits situation” That seems to grab Jaemin’s interest and he perks up, leaning on the table to listen closely. “I asked her what was really going on between you both and she told me the truth”

“She did?” He questions, his voice quiet this time, almost like a whisper. “What did she say?”

“That you two are just fucking”

Jaemin doesn’t know why, but his heart crumbles and a pain settles in his chest at that, throat tightening and feeling heavy, making it hard for him to swallow. He’s unable to form words or even process a thought, struggling to solve what he’s actually feeling right now.

His lips press together tightly, leaning back in his chair as he looks out of the window, trying to steady his breathing as it seems to get faster and heavier, knowing that he’s about to panic.

“Jaemin?” Eunbin calls out his name softly to grab his attention and he gives a short hum, letting her know that he’s listening. “Do you like her?”

“It doesn’t matter” He’s quick to say, this time grabbing his drink and taking a sip so he doesn’t have to talk anymore.

Eunbin watches him carefully and the guilt eats her away, a frown making its way onto her face and she realises exactly what’s going on. A wave of sadness consumes her, but it doesn’t overpower the absolute regret she’s feeling and she lets out a shaky breath, “Jaemin, this is my fault”

His eyes immediately dart towards her as he pulls the straw from between his lips, “What do you mean?”

“When I asked her about your situation, she didn’t give me an answer straight away… She only gave me an answer after explaining why I came back home and when I asked her to do something for me,” Eunbin begins, nervously staring down at her hands to avoid Jaemin’s deep gaze. “I told her I wanted a second chance with you and I asked her if she could stop being friends with benefits to see if I can get that second chance…”

Jaemin sits in silence.

“I wanted to show you how much I’ve changed and how much you mean to me” Eunbin explains as she reaches over to grab Jaemin’s hand, gripping his fingers tightly. “Even after everything that happened between us, I still cared for you—still loved you. I wasn’t ready to give that up. I wanted to be selfish and you know first hand that I’m the type of person that will fight for what I want, and I want you… Can you blame me for that?”

Eunbin’s honesty baffles Jaemin to the core, his eyes widening at her every word and he listens to her excuses. She has tears in her eyes, filled with desperation and forgiveness but Jaemin doesn’t see himself giving her what she wants, not with the pent up rage and frustration that fills him.

It had been her after all this time. Eunbin was the one that had been pulling you away from him, making demanding requests as it seems. It makes him feel sick to his stomach, knowing that all your sadness had been not only because of him, but because of Eunbin too.

Jaemin knows deep down that he hasn’t been the most innocent or helpful in this situation. He was the one that allowed Eunbin back into his life, allowing her the possibility of friendship just to keep the peace with himself. But he hurt you in the process. He hurt the one person he cares about the most.

“Jaemin?” Eunbin calls out his name once more, feeling uneasy with how he hasn’t said a word since she confessed. “Please say something”

“You…” Jaemin finally speaks up, tone a little too calm for Eunbin’s liking and she watches with wary eyes, nervously biting down on her bottom lip as the tears threaten to fall. Jaemin dryly chuckles with a shake of his head, his tongue prodding at his cheek in pure anger. “You are pathetic”

Eunbin stills, “Wh—”

“I told you. The second you showed up at my door after your trip, I told you how badly you screwed me over. I told you how shitty you made me feel,” He pauses, a laugh of disbelief slipping past his lips as he smiles. “And you think I would still give you a second chance?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance—”

“But I didn’t want to give it to you” Jaemin cuts her off, causing Eunbin to blink at him in surprise. “I spent months trying to move on from you and I was scared it wasn’t going to work, but when you came home that day and you visited me, I realised how I already did. I felt shocked seeing you, obviously, I didn’t expect you to come home. But there wasn’t a slightest part of me that was still in love with you, willing to give you another chance… it was gone”

Eunbin sucks in a deep breath, “Then what about us hanging out together after it? Did that mean nothing?”

“I was willing to give you a friendship for my selfish reasons,” Jaemin nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. “I hate drama, especially when I’m in the middle of it. I try to avoid it as much as possible and I thought I was keeping the peace by giving you a chance for friendship… but I realised now how my selfish ways actually hurt everyone else I care about in the process. My friends don’t like you, they’re angry at you, angry at what you did and I put a weight on their shoulders in having you around all because I wanted myself to feel fine”

It’s Eunbin’s turn to be silent now, looking across the table at Jaemin in disbelief at his words.

“I got my closure with you, Eunbin. I shouldn’t have kept you around after that” Jaemin admits and suddenly, it feels like a weight has been lifted off of Jaemin’s chest and he can finally breathe, air flowing freely through his lungs. 

He smiles to himself—a real smile, the most genuine one he’s given in the past few days and then he laughs, another real sound rumbling from his chest as he peaks with happiness, staring over at Eunbin with a beam as she stares back at him with sadness and guilt. 

“Thank you, Eunbin” Jaemin suddenly thanks her and she looks at him confused, watching as he stands up from the table. “Thank you for helping me come to my senses”

“Wait, where are you going?” She asks him, abruptly standing up from her own chair, causing it to scrape against the ground and customers stare over at the table in curiosity. 

Jaemin smiles again, shoving his hands inside his pockets. “I’m gonna go make things right”

“I miss Haru” Miwoo pouts over breakfast, stabbing her fork into her plate of scrambled eggs as she scrolls through Instagram on her phone, her pouting quickly disappearing and replaced with a look of awe as she angles the screen towards her. “She looks so pretty”

“The one she posted last night was pretty too” You add with a smile, staring at the photo. “I’m glad she’s having fun. She deserved the break”

“I wish she shoved me in her suitcase” Miwoo mumbles, pulling the phone back from you. “I would love to be anywhere but here right now”

“You and me both” You can’t help but mutter, spooning your cereal and bringing it up to your mouth for a bite, chewing softly before swallowing. “Are you okay? I mean, generally, are you okay?”

“I’m fine” She hums with a simple nod. “I think I’m fine”

“You think?”

Miwoo frowns this time, seemingly worried. “Am I not supposed to feel fine or something?”

“No, no, it’s not that” You shake your head, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s just that I was talking to Haru before she left and she mentioned that you said some things to her, about you and Jeno” The realisation seems to hit her as her eyes widen slightly and you’re quick to reassure her once again. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but I just want you to know that I’m here to listen to you and if you want to talk about anything, then—”

“I’m not fine” Miwoo cuts you off, voice vulnerable and honest which immediately surprises you, but you hide your shock as you nod your head slowly, wanting her to continue at her own pace. “Physically, I’m fine… but mentally, I’m not and I don’t like the feeling”

You dare to ask, “Is it about Jeno?”

“Kind of, yeah” She nods, refusing to meet your gaze as she plays with her breakfast. “I don’t know if it’s because it's my first but breakups are hard… and, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m struggling without Jeno. I don’t want to be with him anymore, because I know it’s not good for the both of us. It’s unhealthy, our relationship… but I feel so lost without him. I don’t really know what to do with myself”

“Miwoo…” You frown, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and she sighs, reaching up to grab your hand to hold it tightly in her grasp. You squeeze her hand, allowing her to have her moment as you both sit in silence, watching her facial expressions.

“He was my person. And even though we fought and bickered sometimes, the happy moments completely outweigh it. Jeno made me happy and now I just feel miserable” Miwoo sighs softly, chewing down on her bottom lip. “I miss being with him in a way where we joked around a lot, how we teased each other and just hung out… excluding the sex”

 “Maybe you should talk to him?” You suggest, causing her to snap her attention towards you. “He’s still your friend, Miwoo. You’re both still in the group. You haven’t lost him since you broke up… he’s still there, he’ll always be there for you”

Miwoo pulls a face, “But he doesn’t talk to me that much”

“You don’t talk to him that much either. Communication is key”

Miwoo shifts in her chair to face you as she deadpans, “Funny how you give great advice but you can’t take it yourself”

“Hey” You point your fork warningly at her. “Stop turning everything on me”

“Just saying” Miwoo giggles, gently pushing your fork away from her as she sighs. “We’re a couple of girls who struggle to communicate… kinda love that for us”

“You’re insane” You snort, dropping your fork to grab your coffee and take a sip, humming at the taste. “I still think you should talk to him”

“I’ll talk to him if you talk to Jaemin” Miwoo grins at you. “I think it’s a pretty decent deal, don’t you?”

“No”

Miwoo groans as you stand up from the kitchen table, offering to clean up the dishes since she was the one that made breakfast. You hear her mumbling to herself behind you but you pay no mind, filling the sink with hot soapy water to wash the dishes and utensils, allowing yourself to think over her deal.

You would like to talk to Jaemin, somewhat. It could solve a lot of your problems, finally being able to put your real feelings towards him and lay everything out on the table. But it’s the fear of rejection that sits heavy in the back of your mind that stops you from doing anything of the sort. 

So, breaking everything off with Jaemin does seem like the right thing to do, even if it leaves you miserable. 

It doesn’t take you long to finish washing the dishes, drying your hands on a paper towel and excusing yourself to go to your room but you pause midway when you hear a knock on the door, peering your head over your shoulder at Miwoo as she announces that she’ll go see who it is. 

You nod, but you remain still, watching as Miwoo’s figure stands at the door and looks through the peephole and the sound she makes causes you to give her a confused expression, feeling even more confused and curious when she slowly turns around with a knowing smirk on her face.

“It’s for you”

“For me?”

“Yep” She nods with a grin, pulling her phone out of her sweatpants pocket. “I think I’m going to have that talk with Jeno now”

It takes you a moment to realise what she means, your face dropping as it dawns on you, “Miwoo…”

“You got this” Miwoo reassures you as she walks on over, wrapping you up in a warm and comforting hug but your arms lay limp at your sides, unsure of what to do. “Just be honest, okay? Don’t hold back and don’t do anything stupid… communication is key, remember?”

“I can’t believe you’re using my own words against me” You mumble under your breath in disbelief and Miwoo laughs loudly, pressing her lips against your cheek in a sloppy kiss before releasing you, making her way back to the front door and yanking it open.

From her previous statement, you knew Jaemin was standing on the other side. But seeing his face in person, seeing him just a few metres in front of you, your heart thumps wildly in your chest and your palms become sweaty. 

Miwoo’s greeting towards Jaemin is brief, a quick ‘hello’ with a hard look as she leaves the apartment, but not before turning around before Jaemin’s back and giving you a thumbs up, something you force yourself to bite back a curse at as you watch her disappear, leaving you and Jaemin alone for the first time in awhile. 

“Can I come in?” He’s the first to break the silence, asking you in such a hopeful tone that it makes your throat tighten in panic, feeling like you’re going to be sick as your head starts to swirl so fast you’re afraid you’re going to get dizzy and faint. Jaemin takes a hesitant step forward as he sees the difference in your expression, “Are you—”

“What do you want?” You force yourself to ask, swallowing the lump in your throat and breathing steadily through your nose. You didn’t mean to sound so rude towards him and you regret it the second you see his face drop. “Just—what are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you” He says, eyes roaming your face with his brows furrowing. “We need to talk, face to face”

You straighten your back, “What is there to talk about?”

The corner of Jaemin’s lips twitch up subtly, “I think you know what we need to talk about”

You mentally pick a fight with yourself as you nod and tell him to come in, watching as he steps inside the apartment and closes the door behind himself. You bring him over to the living room but neither of you sit, continuing to eye each other to see who cracks first and you feel the annoyance bubbling in your veins, biting down on your inner cheek as you cross your arms over your chest. 

Unfortunately, it’s you who breaks first. 

“Why did you start this friends with benefits situation with me in the first place?” You find yourself asking first, tone slightly harsh and Jaemin blinks at you in surprise, not expecting that to be the first thing you’d ask. You stand your ground this time. “Why, Jaemin?”

His eyes lock on yours. He makes you feel small. You hate it. “You know why”

You let out a dry laugh, “Do I?”

Jaemin shakes his head, “This isn’t what I wanted us to talk about—”

“I want to talk about it” Your finger pokes at your chest. “I want to know. I need to know”

“We started this friends with benefits situation because we missed sex. We told each other at the beginning of it all that we missed sex but didn’t want a relationship to come with it. That’s all it was, you know that” The serious tone Jaemin uses makes you feel sick once again and you couldn’t even bear to look at him, instead finding interest in something in the corner of the room, teeth biting harder down on your cheek to stop the emotions from letting loose. Jaemin’s shoulders sag as he sighs, “Can you please just look at me?”

“I don’t want to” You know you sound childish, especially with how your voice sounds and your stubbornness, but you didn’t really want to look at him, not when you’re on the verge of tears.

Jaemin exhales deeply and you hear him drag his feet across the floorboards, heading straight towards you and you take a step back but Jaemin’s too quick, already standing in front of you with his cold hands coming up to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. 

“I—”

“I refuse to believe it, you know” You blurt suddenly, eyes brimming with tears that burn. “I just—I can’t believe it. Not after everything we’ve practically been through together. You believe that this was just sex? That the months we spent together, we were just two friends having sex? To fill that empty void?”

“Wait, I—”

“Do you realise that you were the one that broke the rules we had first? The rules that were supposed to keep us grounded? To not let us stray down that path of feelings? You broke two of those rules in the first week we got into this and now you’re here? Telling me that sex was all it was?”

“Baby, you’re not—”

You cut him off immediately. “Enough with that fucking name”

“Y/N—”

“You left me confused, Jaemin” You’re refusing to let him talk now but you can’t help it, your emotions and your feelings getting the complete best of you. You can’t stop yourself. “I loved what we had, it was fun, but you left me so confused. You would do things and you would say things that can be interpreted into something completely different. Then the exclusive shit happened and even though it was something I agreed to, it shouldn’t have happened. We went too far”

Jaemin’s hands slowly drop from your face as a frown slips across his, “Do you regret becoming exclusive with me?”

“Sometimes” You admit, causing him to frown deeper and you notice the look of hurt that flashes in his eyes. “This type of situation always gets messy if ‘official’ or ‘exclusive’ titles are added to it. That’s why people set boundaries, rules. But they were constantly being broken by the littlest of things you did… But don’t worry, it was me who ended up being the biggest fool out of the two of us, right?”

“What do you mean?”

You laugh half-heartedly, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter if you broke the first two rules, Jaemin. I was the idiot that broke the biggest one of all”

Jaemin stares at you now, eyes wide as he repeats with a whisper, “What do you mean?”

“Rule number three, genius” You snort out a laugh. You’re aware of how much of a lunatic you must look right now, laughing with tears sliding down your cheeks, but you can’t bring yourself to care as the emotions you’ve been trying to conceal come slipping through the cracks. “Rule number three was no feelings involved… No. Falling. In. Love”

Jaemin’s unable to gather the right words to vocalise how he’s feeling, opting to just continue staring at you which makes you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. 

The weight of the subtle confession has been lifted off of your chest, but with how he’s staring at you silently is making you feel worse. You don’t know if you want the ground to swallow you whole or if you want to kick Jaemin out of your apartment, to shut the door in his face and forget everything that just happened, but you know that’s not going to happen. 

So, you decide to keep going. To bite the bullet. To tell him everything.

“I’ve always had some sort of feeling towards you, but I realised I fell for you when Eunbin came back. How jealous and uneasy I felt when she was around or if you were with her. I tried to make excuses for it, but every kiss you gave me—every touch—I realised that I was far too fucking deep and some stupid part of me believed for the smallest moment, you might’ve felt the same way… but nothing changed. Nothing was said. You were still acting as you always did… closed off and unreadable”

Jaemin hangs his head low in shame. He knows well enough he’s closed off and unreadable, having become the type of person that hides his emotions and feelings towards anything and everything. He feels shame for hurting you with it all, not realising the effect it could leave on you and he sighs, an apology resting on the tip of his tongue and he goes to give it to you, but you start talking again.

“Truthfully, I don’t know anything about you” You tell him, rubbing the tears off of your cheeks. “You constantly have these walls built up around you and you refuse to let anyone in… Not only that, but you refuse to show anyone your feelings. Yet again, it leaves me fucking confused. You confused me and I can’t stand not knowing anything about you, your feelings, your—”

“I appreciate the things I love” Jaemin cuts you off suddenly, causing the words to die down at the back of your throat as you stare at him in surprise. “I appreciate my family for everything they have given me. I appreciate my friends for making memories I’ll never forget. I appreciate my camera for capturing the prettiest pictures for me to see whenever I feel sad. I appreciate sunsets because the colours are warm and comforting. I appreciate coffee because it gets me through the day when I’m exhausted. I appreciate the quietness because sometimes it eases me and allows me to think clearly”

You notice how Jaemin’s breathing gets heavier and you take a cautious step forward, eyeing him as he seems like he’s starting to panic. “Jaemin…”

“And I fucking appreciate you” 

You freeze. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. 

The words repeat in your head, the meaning of it all, the rawness in his tone. You’ve heard it before, he’s said it to you twice already but you never knew the actual meaning behind it and now, standing in front of him, hearing him say that appreciates the things he loves, it makes your heart thump.

“I’m sorry” Jaemin whispers to you quietly. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for not being honest and real with my feelings. It scares me, it has since everything with Eunbin—but I’m at fault too, I can’t put the entire blame on her. I hold myself back and I do things for selfish reasons… but I can’t keep doing that. It hurts people around me when I do and most importantly, it hurts you. I can’t handle hurting you. You mean too much to me”

He takes a few steps forward to stand close in front of you, reaching for your hands and caressing them in his own, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles before holding them in his grasp.

“Eunbin told me everything earlier, about what she asked you to do at the party” Your brows raise in shock at that, not expecting Eunbin to be the one that confesses first. “I don’t like Eunbin. I’d never give her a second chance, ever. You’re the only person that matters to me, so… don’t give up on me yet. Don’t let me go”

You can’t help but give him a teary smile, laughing softly as you squeeze his hands, the warmth in your chest spreading, “You still want to continue as exclusive fuck buddies?”

“God, no” Jaemin laughs at that, noticing your teasing tone before he smiles gently at you. “I want to be your boyfriend”

“My boyfriend?” You grow shy, feeling a little flustered and Jaemin’s grin widens at your reaction, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss to your forehead, trailing his lips down to your cheeks and placing a few kisses there. He reaches your nose next, leaving another soft kiss on the tip before his lips brush over your own.

“I’m ready to be your boyfriend if you’re ready to have one” He whispers against your lips and you nod, wanting to close the gap between you both but Jaemin leans back slightly, shaking his head. “Ask me first. I want to hear you say it”

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah” Jaemin grins happily with a nod, letting go of your hands to cup your cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll be your boyfriend”

He presses his lips to yours gently and you kiss back almost instantly, lips moving slowly against one another as you melt in his touch, your own hands coming up to rest on the nape of his neck, threading his hair through your fingers.

The kiss turns feverish in seconds, a clash of tongue and teeth, a little nibbling and groping, and you break the contact to let out a surprised yelp when Jaemin bends down to grip the back of your thighs, hoisting you up in the air and you wrap your legs around his hips so you don’t fall.

He laughs, face muffled in your chest as he blindly carries you to your bedroom, a trip he knows awfully too well that he doesn’t make any mistakes or falls even when he’s unable to see the view. 

He closes your bedroom door behind himself with a simple kick of his foot before he drops you on the bed, his own body falling above yours and you laugh as he huffs, shuffling his way between your thighs with a grin. 

You expected him to kiss you again, to leave you breathless and wanting him but you’re surprised when Jaemin does nothing but caress your face softly, stroking your cheek and tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb.

He’s smiling so gently at you that it makes your heart flutter, the look in his eyes causing you to shy away and look elsewhere but your attention is soon back on him when he whispers your name, leaning down to finally reconnect your lips and you immediately reciprocate, pouring all of your affection and want into the kiss as you lips move against his while your hands fist at his shirt. 

Jaemin’s the first to take off his shirt and you follow shortly behind, pulling it over your head and dropping it mindlessly to the floor as Jaemin attaches his lips to your bare chest, leaving light, feathery kisses over your skin and you arch your back with a gasp, watching as he trails over your breast and down your stomach.

His touch is so oddly loving and caring it feels a little foreign, but your chest warms at the thought of him taking his time with you, cherishing this moment and drinking in every part of you. 

Jaemin hooks his fingers beneath your sleep shorts and pulls them down your legs along with your panties, and you squirm at the cold air that hits, knees knocking against his side but he pays no mind, deciding to lay on his stomach between your legs.

The sight of him staring at you from his position makes you feel shy, but the arousal builds up inside of you and you lift your hips to coax him into touching you, tasting you and you clench around nothing when he leans in, expecting to feel his lips or even tongue but you whine when you feel him press open mouth kisses across your inner thighs. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You dare to ask, leaning up on your elbows to look down at him.

He smiles, eyebrow twitching suggestively. “Just taking my time with you, baby”

Without warning, you feel his tongue slowly lap over your slit and you gasp, falling back against the bed as the tip wiggles between your folds before flicking over your clit, causing your hands to fly down to his hair and grip at the roots to ground yourself.

Jaemin seems to be enjoying the moment, moaning in your pussy and he messily slurps you up, sucking on your clit with the right amount of suction that has your body feeling electrified, a cry falling past your lips at the pleasure that swirls in the pit of your tummy.

You start roll your hips against his face, tightening your hold on his hair and Jaemin groans, the vibration on your pussy inching you closer and closer to your orgasm, and Jaemin takes it upon himself to hook one hand under your knee to push it up at an angle that helps him burying himself further in between your legs, mouthing at all the right places.

“Fuck” You curse loudly with a moan, unable to control your sounds as your orgasm builds up faster, the band in your tummy tonighting as your pussy clenches around the tip of his tongue that dips inside of you, the pressure and pleasure becoming too much for you to handle that the band snaps as you cum on his tongue.

“Good girl” Jaemin praises you softly, lapping you up eagerly as he helps ride out your orgasm, grinning as he feels your thighs tremble. 

You struggle to catch your breath, dry panting as you arch your hips away from his mouth and Jaemin’s chest rumbles with a laugh, letting go of your thigh as it drops limply to the bed as he crawls up your body to kiss your lips.

You taste yourself on his tongue and you moan, returning the kiss and sucking on his tongue to which he responds by rutting his hips into yours, confined cock pressing against your inner thigh.

“Take them off” You whisper into the kiss, hands grabbing at his jeans. “Please...take them off”

“Okay” Jaemin hums, tongue intertwining with yours as his own hands reach down to pop the buttons on his jeans, awkwardly shoving them down his legs along with his boxer briefs before kicking them off to the side.

You dip your hand down between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock, causing him to groan between the kiss as you pump him leisurely, feeling intoxicated with the way he pants against your lips, mouth agape as his breathing gets heavier and heavier with each tug of your hand.

You guide him to your entrance, coating his cock with your arousal as you slide the tip through your folds and Jaemin deeply exhales, pressing his lips together and he cranes his head down to see you position his cock and you awaiting hole, and he pushes his hips forwards, breaching your entrance. 

A strangled moan leaves your lips, having nothing of that significant size been up there in a while and Jaemin coos softly, taking your hand in his own to give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze as you both watch where you’re connected.

He sinks into you deeper as he kisses you, rolling his hips to thrust slowly, allowing your legs to wind around his waist and he brings your interlocked hands above your head, pushing them into the pillow as he gets comfortable above you.

This kiss is needy and affectionate, and each fluid roll of his hips has you seeing stars behind your closed lids, unable to control the sounds that leave your lips and Jaemin’s the same, cursing and grunting every time he bottoms out inside and you squeeze around him in return. 

Your grip on his hand tightens as your stomach knots, breaking the kiss to allow yourself to breathe when you begin to struggle for oxygen, staring up at him in bliss and he’s smiling down back at you, eyes dazed and lids fluttering with every roll of his hips.

But he buries his face into the crevice of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on your skin as the pace of his thrusts start to quicken, the wet noises of your pussy sucking in his cock fills the room along with your shameless noises of pleasure, and your free hand reaches up to grab the back of his head, threading your fingers through the roots as you nip at his shoulders.

“I’m gonna cum” You pant heavily as you feel yourself tinkering towards your second orgasm of the night.

“Me too, baby” He mumbles, groaning as your walls clamp around his cock. “Fuck, me too”

Your hand tightens around his as you reach your climax, whining as your legs tremble around his hips as the knot in your stomach loosens, cumming all over his cock. The feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice triggers his own climax and he’s moaning into your neck, releasing with long spurts that paint your insides and you gasp at the feeling of him filling you up, the warmth spreading. 

He stays above you for quite some time, basking in each other's presence and collecting your breath, staring at one another with giddy smiles which causes you both to laugh.

You love being with him like this, holding him in your embrace and seeing the happiness written across his face, the love and adoration that swirls in his eyes when he looks down at you and even though it makes you feel shy, you can’t help but get addicted to it. It’s something you want to see all the time. He looks so beautiful. 

“Hey…” You say softly and Jaemin hums to let you know you’ve got his attention, leaning into your palm when you rest it on his cheek. “I appreciate you”

His eyes widen a little at your words, but the smile gets bigger on his lips and he turns his head to the side to gently kiss your palm before looking back at you, honesty and tenderness within his tone as he says back, “I appreciate you too”

➤𝗘𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!” Miwoo screams as Donghyuck takes her by the arms and Yangyang by her legs as they both carry her towards the shore, threatening to throw her into the sea for her teasing jokes towards them both, neither of them backing down as they step into the water.

You laugh as you watch the scene play out, bringing the bottle up to your lips to take a sip as you rest back into Jaemin’s chest who sits behind you, his arms winding around your waist and kissing your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder, watching the trio along with you.

Haru and Renjun sit on the beach blanket beside you both, his arm thrown around her shoulder and she resting into his side, mindlessly playing with his fingers as they speak quietly to themselves about something you can’t make out.

Jeno and Shotaro are sat on the other end of the beach blanket, the former getting up to join in with the trio while the latter stays seated, capturing pictures of the chaotic moment while laughing loudly, causing you and the others to laugh along.

The foursome arrive back to the group and Miwoo flops down beside Haru, grinning happily as the others take a seat too and she grabs her beer, raising it up in the air.

“I’d like to make a very dramatic speech and if none of you are crying by the end of it, I will drown you in the sea”

“Oh here we go” Renjun groans, but the smile on his face shows how much he’s teasing. 

“I just want to say that I’m proud of us. We’ve come a long way since the beginning and I’m happy we’re still here together… I don’t think I would’ve been able to become the person I am today without you guys by my side”

Donghyuck starts to playfully fake gag and Miwoo huffs, throwing her middle finger up at him and he begins to smile, returning her insult with some heart hands. 

“She’s right,” Shotaro agrees, raising his own bottle and Miwoo grins. “I get happy being with you guys. I wouldn’t want it any other way”

“Shotaro” Donghyuck coos as he reaches out to pinch Shotaro’s cheeks and Yangyang throws himself at him, the pair tumbling back into the sand as they laugh. 

“Also,” Miwoo starts up again, looking over at you this time. “I want to congratulate you on signing up for the writers trip you’ve been holding off for so long. You deserve to explore and write about all the places you see”

“Stop…” You chuckle, a little embarrassed under the attention and you feel Jaemin’s chest vibrate behind you as he laughs, pulling you closer to him and intertwining your hands, soothing his thumb over your knuckle. “I’m excited to go, but I’m sad to be leaving you guys”

“You’re acting like you’ll be gone forever” Yangyang says as he nudges your leg with a smile. “You’re only going for a few months”

“I know” You sigh, “I just know I’ll miss you guys”

“We also need to congratulate Haru and Renjun for taking the next step” Jeno announces as he looks at the pair. “Congratulations on moving in together”

“Finally away from you idiots” Renjun teases as he takes a sip of his drink and Haru shoulders him softly with a laugh. “Thanks, Jen”

Shotaro turns to Miwoo worryingly, “Are you going to be okay living on your own for a while?”

“Of course!” Miwoo smiles. “Y/N’s only going to be gone for a few months and I need to learn how to be independent, rely on myself for a little while”

“You know, if you need anything, you got us” Donghyuck speaks this time with a serious tone to Miwoo and she nods. 

“You always got us” Jeno chimes in this time, smiling over at Miwoo who smiles back happily and knocks her beer bottle against Jeno’s who lifts his up for a cheers and your heart warms at the two.

“The sun is setting, can I take a picture of us all together?” Jaemin asks as he points to his polaroid camera that sits on top of his backpack and the group eagerly agrees, standing up quickly and moving to stand in front of the sunset.

You and Jaemin both rise from the ground and you go to stand beside Miwoo as Jaemin sets up his polaroid to take the picture and you take this moment to appreciate everything that is going on around you, how the happy smiles on everyone's faces warms your heart.

Who would’ve thought that this was the way things would turn out after everything began? It baffles you, really. 

If someone told you a few months ago you’d be in a position where you’re happily with Jaemin as your boyfriend, surrounded by a strong friendship group and an upcoming writers trip, you would’ve possibly laughed, calling them stupid and unrealistic… Yet here you are, living out this moment.

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you lean into Jaemin as he comes to stand beside you, winding his arm around your waist and pressing his lips to your temple lovingly as he whispers to you those three words.

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your cheeks.

You guess it’s just The Way Life Goes. 

A.N| and that's the final of twlg. this had, undoubtedly, been such a wild rollercoaster to make. this fic has brought me a mixture off all different emotions going between happiness and anger, but it's over. and bro. i'm emotional. thank you for all the support you have given this series, it's been incredible, i'll never forget it.

i appreciate you♡

©mrkis

[sillylittlefreakgirl]

You awoke slowly. The heaviness of dreaming gradually lifted, little by little, but not fully. It was comfortable. Safe. You didn't want to open your eyes or move. You wanted to stay and dream a little more.

Despite yourself, you began to feel the sensations of the waking world. A warm breeze across bare skin. Soft grass beneath you. Light dancing across your face. Music in the distance. An odd smell in the air. It all felt so *good*.

A pretty voice rang like soft bells in your ears. "Oh poor pet. Are you lost?"

Your eyes opened just a crack. There was a tall, pale, red-haired man above you. Or, you thought it was a man. It was hard to tell. Everything was so fuzzy.

It took a moment before you realized you were supposed to respond, but at the same time, you realized you didn't know how to answer. Were you lost? You couldn't remember, but it didn't feel like you were supposed to be anywhere else. You felt at home.

Where was *here*? you wondered. Opening your eyes just a little more, you saw a sunlit clearing surrounded by odd trees. Colors danced in the air above you, and though it was midday with a bright sun, you saw stars share the blue sky. You couldn't find the source of the music, nor that strange smell.

Then, of course, there was the man. He wore clothes woven from autumnal leaves. You wore nothing, you realized. The man knelt down beside you, his face above yours. His breath smelled sweet, and your mind grew fuzzier.

"You must have stumbled through here," he murmured. "Poor thing. Your kind doesn't adapt well to this place." Hearing him speak filled you with such joy and wonder and *lust* that you couldn't hold back a giggle. His fingers traced your cheek in response. "I can't let you go back to your home, now, can I? You'll not be happy in your world now that you've sipped from mine. It'd be cruel."

You had no idea what your home was, but you didn't want to leave this place. You wanted to stay with this strange man and listen to his voice forever.

His fingers left your cheek and now run along your neck, your shoulders, down your side and around your thigh, and a small gasp escaped you. You wanted him to keep touching you, more than anything else. He stopped then, though, and as his hand left your skin you whined in disappointment.

"Sit up, dear," he said, and so you did. The fuzziness, the colors, the music, everything felt so muffled and blissful and you just *knew* that it would all feel so much better if you did what he said.

He opened his hand to reveal a slender chain, sparkling in every hue and more. He tenderly wrapped it around your neck, hidden clasps locking it tight. "Some choose to walk, some prefer to crawl," he whispered. "It's up to you."

As he walked, holding your chain, you crawled alongside him.

He led you through a sea of trees decorated in more alluring flowers. As you came close to them, the odd scent strengthened and it became harder to think. He led you through gloaming twilight and fiery autumn, until, together, you found a verdant glade ringed with stone columns. Within the circle were others like you, men and women alike, all naked save for a glittering, slender chain, the ends of which were fastened to the pillars. More tall, fair, red-haired creatures filled the ring too, serviced by the mortals within. The sounds of whimpers and gasps filled your mind and you wanted desperately to join them.

The creature behind you tied your chain to a pillar and patted your head. "Here we are, pet. Your new home. The world outside is dangerous, but you'll never feel anything but happiness again."

Your arrival was noticed by the many tall creatures, who paused their fucking and stepped away from their pets, who begged them to return. But the creature's eyes were fixed solely on you, the new addition. "Please," you whined, your first words spoken in this realm. You said nothing after, your mouth wide open as your new owners drew closer.

[fidogo]

And the truth of the matter is (I'll never let you go) - J.S

Synopsis: Jake Seresin hates you. Or is given no choice but to hate you after you decide to hate him first. Which sucks, because he dreams of dating you, marrying you, fucking you, the whole nine yards.

Tags: NSFT, miscommunication, enemies to lovers (kinda), F!Reader, mentions of gender and sexism, infactual Naval Control Room (sorry babes I have no clue what goes on in there and did not fact check), alcohol, sappy emotions, unprotected sex (Don’t do this!), penetrative sex, sub!reader, Dom!Jake, squirting, creampie, overstimulation, spanking, brief cockwarming

Word Count: 4.3K

AN: pretty silly in concept as in I know nothing about Naval control rooms and instead of learning or changing things just barreled on ahead because I felt compelled lmao I also tend to not like miscommunication tropes but once again…something compelled me

Jake Seresin fucking hates you.

Well not really. To be quite honest, he thinks you may be the prettiest thing he’s seen in years. He has dreams where he wakes up next to you, fantasies of taking you to Texas, making sure you never had to lift another finger unless you wanted to.

So no.

He doesn’t hate you. But dear God he seems to be doing everything wrong. 

And he never does anything wrong. 

But anytime he flirts with you, dropping the ole’ Seresin charm, your lips curl up at him, unimpressed. (He wants to bite them. Or kiss them). You always roll your eyes, pat his arm and leave him hanging.

He hates it.

So he ups the ante, deviating from your carefully calculated flight instructions. He easily sails through the air, gliding between clouds and aces through the training and exercises. 

By the time Jake lands his plane, he’s elated, adrenaline pumping, muscles tense, and craving something hot, something more. 

Except it’s worse when he sees you that night. He practically turns red when you completely ignore him. Turning on your pretty little heels, not even giving him the time of day. 

He grabs your forearm on your way out, brows pinched in frustration at your lack of attention. At least before, when you talked to him, you were friends of some sort. 

But now you rip your arm out of his grasp, anger evident. 

“You’re a fucking asshole, Hangman,” you mutter before disappearing into the night. You never call him Hangman outside of work.

So yes, Jake Seresin hates you now. 

Any conversation between the two of you changed after that day. It’s always tinged in anger, some sort of bitterness. He can’t figure out what he did wrong, and you won’t tell him, and it just further cements the fact that he has to put those dreams of you to rest. He continues to defy you when he’s up in the air, but he’s no longer trying to impress you, no, it’s petty and cruel now.

He lets the wound fester, lets it grow and spread, turn vile enough that the others eventually take notice. 

Phoenix hangs by you when you’re all together, a loyal shadow, talons out whenever he gets too close. Rooster's loud and annoying as ever, picking up on the tension and doubling down on his clown routine to dissipate the heaviness. 

Jake finds himself embarrassed when Bob looks at him with sympathetic eyes. If you didn’t want to talk to him fine. He doesn’t need you or your goodwill (God he wants you so bad though). 

Coyote finds him at a barbecue one night. He hands him a beer wordlessly and just stays with him. It’s quiet and nice, making the ache he’s been feeling recently disappear a little. 

“You should talk to her.” Coyote's usually calming voice sounds abrasive to Jake; his hackles go up. 

“Jake.” Javy’s tone stops him from pouncing. “I’m serious. Just talk to her. You’ll both feel better.” He slaps his back, wandering over to Fanboy and Payback as the sun dips into the sea, the sky painted in orange and pinks. 

You’re sitting by yourself on top of a picnic table, a little away from the group, gaze glued to the sunset. 

You look like a fucking angel right now. Something straight out of his dreams. 

Fuck it. 

Shock finds its way onto your face as you see him walking towards you, his muscled body moving with purpose. Wide eyes watch him before they narrow turning towards the sand. 

“Go away, Hangman,” you spit. “Do I need to get Natasha over-“

“What did I do wrong? Tell me what I did.” He cuts you off abruptly, and there’s a twinge of guilt and desperation that colors his words. It’s different than any of your previous conversations. No cocky charm, no anger, just a solemness that leaves your jaw hanging as you gape at him.

He barrels through your silence, sitting on the table next to you. “I can’t fix this,” gesturing between the two of you, “unless you tell me what I did to make you hate me so much.”

Jake briefly notes the way you look at him like a deer in headlights, it’s a look he hasn’t seen on your face before. He wonders what other faces you could make for him. 

“You really don’t know?” Your voice softly cuts through the air, anxiety underlining your words. He shakes his head, watching the way you chew on the inside of your cheek as you stare at the darkening sky. 

A silence settles between the two of you, nothing to listen to but the laughter of your friends, and the repetitive crash of the waves.

“You embarrassed me.”

It’s so quiet, Jake almost doesn’t hear it. 

“What?”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone. You didn’t listen to me at work. And I fought so hard to get into that control room.” You pause, tugging your jacket tighter around you. It sounds stupid now. Certainly nothing to cry over, and yet here you are, furiously rubbing your eyes. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Jake carefully pushes, unsure of how to make this better. 

You make a pained sound, before nodding, a humorless smile on your face. Of course, he has no clue. You press a palm to your chest, looking straight through his eyes into his soul.

“I do the calculations for your exercises and training.” You pat your chest, voice cracking. “I do it.” He tilts his head at you, silently urging you on. “And when you don’t listen to me and are still so successful, everyone looks at me.” 

“But I do that all time…” he trails off, hand hovering over your shoulder before pulling it away. 

“When you train with Mav or the other pilots, that’s different. But just- certain exercises, where it’s mainly for the plane and just you. That’s on me.” 

He takes a sip of his beer, nodding slowly.

“Why do they look at you?” You let out a small groan, brows pinched in annoyance. 

“Because when what I calculate doesn’t happen, they think I should be doing better. Well, everyone but Hondo. And in case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a lot of women here.” Jake’s stomach drops a little as you continue. Shit. 

“If I had been a man, I don’t think they would’ve raised an eyebrow. Hell, no one says anything when Johnson fucks up on Rooster’s calculations. And it is on me. I should’ve considered the fact that you’re the perfect pilot who will always beat the odds, but you had never pulled this shit with me before.” He snorts at that, before finally letting his palm rest on your thigh. 

In a comforting, apologetic manner. 

Nothing else.

“And it certainly didn’t help that after the first time, I did everything in my power to do the opposite of what you said.” You laugh at that, a twinkle returning to your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.

“No that didn’t help at all. One day my favorite pilot stopped listening to me, the next day I was a joke in the control room.” Your fingers curl into your jacket, and you keep still as Jake slides closer to you. He puts his beer down, gently caressing your jaw so you look at him.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish you had told me,” he whispers, watching as your eyes dart around, unused to this type of closeness from him.

“I’m sorry. I just was-“ you meet his eyes again, tears beginning to well. “I was embarrassed. I thought I was going to get demoted or transferred. Which didn’t happen. But I thought you didn’t need me and….” your voice fades off, embarrassment all over your face, as you try to squirm out of his grasp. 

Jake drops his hand from your jaw, giving you space, but he squeezes the flesh of your thigh.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that. That’s the last thing I ever wanted, believe me.” He swipes at a stray tear with his free thumb, watching you blink in surprise. He steals himself, deciding the truth may be the best route.

“When I didn’t listen to you the first time, I was trying to impress you.” Your eyes widen and your upper body pulls away from him.

“What?” You sound like you can’t believe him, and your eyes narrow at him. “This isn’t funny Seresin.” There’s an edge in your voice again, one that he’s come to respect and hate over the past weeks. 

“I’m not being funny,” he throws back, matching your glare. “I was trying to get you to notice me. Hell, nothing else was working.”

“Now what the fuck do you mean?” He looks at you like your stupid, and he almost feels guilty about it except for the fact that he had been flirting with you for so long, it’s a miracle he didn’t give up. And when he tells you that, you look at him mouth gaping. 

“You were serious?” Jake almost rolls his fucking eyes, but he’s watching you relive months of memories, as your shoulders sag. “Oh my god. I thought you were making fun of me.” 

His heart aches a little at the thought of you thinking he was being cruel to you when he wanted to do nothing more but give you the moon and every star in the sky. 

“Sweetheart. Not only do I want you more than anything, I need you. Always.”

“Oh.” He feels you squeeze your thighs together, feels the heat radiating from you. 

Oh. Oh indeed. 

———

Jake’s careful with you. More careful than he wants to be right now, but everything’s so fragile right now, so tender, he doesn’t want to do anything that’ll scare you off. 

His hands are gentle when he peels your shirt and bra off of you; he’s hesitant as he kisses down your neck. His thumb swipes over the, now swollen, lips that have haunted his dreams. They open ever so slightly, letting him push in. He groans into your neck, pushing his free hand into your shorts, sliding over your damp panties. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as he trails his fingers up and down your clothed slit. Your hips buck slightly at his ministrations, lips curling around his thumb as you suck gently at it. 

Jake’s cock throbs painfully in his boxers as he watches your body react to him so beautifully, and he hasn’t even really done anything yet. You’re so wound up, so tense in multiple ways, and it’s his fault. He owes it to you to make you cum before he gets his dick wet. It’s what you deserve. 

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, caressing your face ever so slightly before trailing it down your breasts to tweak at your nipples.

“Such perfect tits,” he mutters, watching you bloom so beautifully under his attention. “Now let's get you out of these shorts.” You lift your hips as he situates himself between your thighs, pulling your shorts and underwear off in one go. And then he just fucking stares. 

You squirm under his eyes, thighs beginning to close as anxiety plucks at your nerves. But he’s faster than you.

“Don’t you go hiding from me now, sweet thing.” He licks his lips before looking at you with blown-out eyes. “I think you doubt how long I’ve been dreaming about you and this perfect pussy. Let me enjoy this.” Your heartbeat picks up at his words, cunt involuntarily clenching around nothing. And he fucking watches it happen. 

He smirks up at you in a way that makes you want to pull your hair out, presses a kiss to your thigh, and remains silent. As if not wanting to push your annoyance too far. 

Jake settles on his stomach between your thighs, continuing to leave a trail of soft kisses up your thighs until he’s right at the apex, thumbs pulling your lower lips apart. He sighs appreciatively as your thighs tense.

“You’re just staring,” you complain, beginning to squirm again. He tsks at you, dragging his thumb up the cleft of your cunt.

“Hold your horses. I’m just getting started.” He swaps his thumb for his index, circling around the bud of your clit, delighting in the way you shiver, and he continues to trace your pussy as it leaks for him. “So pretty…” he murmurs mostly to himself.

Jake’s mainly teasing you at this point. A bit cruel considering how battered you both are emotionally, but he wants the first time you cum for him to be big. Memorable. Nothing less from Hangman. And for you. Of course. 

And so he continues to tease, to drag his digits around your clit, your entrance, teasing the opening but not quite entering. He’s enchanted by the little noises you make, the gossamer strands he pulls from your body. They just look so…sweet. 

With his eyes fixed on yours, he leans his mouth forward. 

When his tongue swipes along you, your groan of relief goes straight to his dick. Fuck. He could listen to you all day. 

Jake laps away at your cunt, chasing after your nectar and the sounds you make, relishing in the way your thighs tense around his head. He draws his tongue up, passing over your clit, and you buck into his mouth. Your fingers are in his hair in a flash, tugging as he repeats the motion. His eyes roll into the back of his head at the feeling, and he grinds his dick into the bed.

“Fuck,” you whimper, eyes sealed shut as you continue to hump against his face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

He expertly flicks at your clit, fingers digging almost painfully into your thighs. It feels so good, the pleasure radiating from your pussy making your brain foggy. Much like he can’t think of being anywhere but between your thighs, you can’t think of anything but Jake and his perfect mouth.

The two of you stay in this, wet, messy rhythm of tugging and licking and teasing until your wound so tight, muscles so tense you can’t help but beg. Jake, Jake, baby, please. I need to cum so bad.

He groans against you, vibrations making you shiver. One of your thighs is released, fingers gently trailing over the shallow nail marks left on your skin. You shiver again. Those same fingers find their way to your sopping, twitching cunt, and they trail in-between the lips of your pussy while his tongue remains focused on your clit. 

You pant tugging hard at his hair again, you can feel it coming, feel the wave begin to crash- and then he pushes 2 fingers inside you, stretching, searching, begging you to cum around them. And obedient as ever, you do.

You jolt forward, fingers still tangled in his hair as your thighs snap shut around his head, cunt pulsing around his fingers and into his awaiting mouth. Your blood feels white hot, pleasure overwhelming as your hips continue to twitch and buck. 

Jake continues to thrust his fingers into you, helping you ride your high as his own hips grind into the bed, reluctantly chasing the same. 

When your body starts to relax, fingers no longer clinging to his hair almost painfully, he pulls his mouth and fingers away slowly, watching you carefully, gauging where you are. 

You blink at him blearily, licking your lips before noticing how wet the lower half of his face looks. Wet because of you. 

You let out a small moan. “Fuck, Jake.” 

You look so fucked out, so lovesick- Something snaps in him and he doesn’t know why but he needs you to cum again as fast as possible. 

And so he dives back in. 

Fingers thrusting, tongue skillfully teasing. And you wail, hips rocking. To escape or seek more, you don’t know. 

“Jake,” you cry out, pulling his hair, trying to get his tortuous mouth off of you. “Jake it’s too much!” But a single arm keeps you glued to his mouth. His eyes meet yours, blown out and desperate, and your fucking shaking. 

And then his lips form a seal around your clit. 

And he sucks. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips writhing against him as you’re taken under by another massive wave of pleasure. Your thighs squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, feet flailing against the bed. You repeat nothing but his name, as if it’s the only word you remember how to say, voice tense and whiny. 

He moans into you, fingers pulling more of your cum into his mouth, and he grinds his boxer-covered cock into the mattress watching your body crest and crash until you begin to still. 

Carefully, as if you might break, Jake pulls away again. The deep ache in his gut was finally satisfied at seeing you fucked out and exhausted. 

But you prop yourself up to look at him, chewing your lip thoughtfully. “Dontcha wanna fuck me?” You whisper, something desperate and needy kicking to life inside of you again. 

Jake inhales deeply, something twinging in his abs, and he grimaces. 

And you flail in panic at his face, turning over to your hands and knees, cunt rising above him, as you turn back to look at him, begging again. Jake please, please I need you in me. I want you so bad. 

And he groans, reaching a hand up to squeeze your ass. 

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing more I want than to fuck this cunt until you pass out. But I need to wait. I’m a little spent…” 

You freeze at that, turning more to watch as he peels off his boxers, noticing the shine of the fabric. Holy shit. 

Your eyes widen, and you collapse in front of the pillow in front of you. 

“That’s so hot, Jake. Fuck.” Your hips wiggle as if to sell your point, and he chuckles. 

“Bad timing though, huh?” 

You peak out from the pillow, turning back again. “I don’t mind waiting.” 

“I know.” And he smirks at you again, and it’s so annoying and cocky in the ways you hate but you’re too horny to care. 

Especially when he starts massaging the globes of your ass. You settle down, eyelids drooping as his fingers dig into the flesh there. It feels so nice, relaxing while still keeping you turned on. 

Jakes's fingers drift lower towards the entrance of your cunt, fingers gliding over the wetness that lingers around the entrance, pushing it back into you. 

A shudder runs through your body as you clench tightly around his fingers. He coos at you, beginning to thrust them in and out, other hand still squeezing away. You gently rock back against him, mind glazed over from all the sensations and the fact that it was Jake Seresin who was doing it to you. 

He pushes another finger in, smiling to himself at how you flutter around him, wanting more. Your darlin’ cunt was really a gift, wasn’t it?

He thrusts in and out, glued to the way you drip around his hand. 

“Jake?” you sound so quiet, so soft. He could eat you live right now. You’re pouting now, lip jutting out at him. 

“What is it darlin’?” 

“Can you fuck me now?”

There’s a mean edge to your voice again, one that almost has him rolling his eyes. You’re a fucking piece of work sometimes. But he just pulls his fingers from you, stroking his cock with the wetness of you. 

“You know what? I think I can take care of that for you.” You grin back at him, propping yourself up and shaking your ass again, and he slaps the jiggling flesh, making you laugh. 

He fists himself mindlessly, guiding himself forward, closer to where he wants to be more than anything. 

You inhale, fingers digging into the sheets at how he barely nudges toward, stretching you ever so slightly. 

Jake lets out a hiss as he pushes forward. You’re fluttering and tensing like crazy around him, and his nails dig into your ass harshly. 

“You gotta relax for me. Let me in.” You shiver and nod taking deep breaths as finally slides deep into your slick cunt.

“Oh shit Jake,” you say, already moving back against him, lost in the way he feels spectacular inside of you. Whatever daze you’re in is reciprocated, as he shallowly thrusts into you ever so slightly as you both adjust. You’re just so hot and wet already. It makes the small of his back tingle; lights something up deep inside of him. 

Jake pulls out slowly, watching the way your walls cling to him, listening to the way you mewl. Fuck.

“Yea you like this dick?” He pumps back into you, watching the way you react, feeling you. 

“You’re so- fuck- annoying,” you moan, glaring at him from over your shoulder, but your pussy squeezes him anyways.

“You were the one begging for it.” His palm slaps the fat of your ass, and you bounce back against him. 

“And what’s wrong with that?” He glares at you, at the twinge of fight and mischief in your eyes. 

“Nothing you little brat.”

And then he fucks you. Hard. Hips slamming into your ass, skin against skin. It’s loud, filling the air with wet, lewd noises that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. You can feel the ridges of his dick as he stretches your cunt.

He fucks you steady, hypnotized by every little thing about you. You just feel so fucking good, surrounding his cock as you drip into the sheets. Jake briefly wonders if you’d let him do this again, let him see you like this, tease you apart until you’re just as gooey and babbley. 

He splays his hand out on your upper back, pushing you in the bed. Your breathing’s shaky, fingers curled into the sheets. There’s a deep ache inside you. You need him so much it hurts. 

“Jake,” you manage to pant out, cunt squeezing him deliciously. He hisses before stroking the length of your back. 

“I know. You’re being so good for me. Such a good girl,” he coos, hands landing on your waist. You nod in agreement, the praise going straight to your overworked cunt. 

“Used to be so mouthy with me. Just needed my cock in ya, huh?” His question is punctuated by a particularly well-aimed thrust that makes your knees feel wobbly. It’s degrading, but the way he’s making you see stars right now has you whimpering in agreement. You need it. You need him.

“Jake,” you whine hoarsely. “I’m close.” He coos at you again, squeezing the flesh of your waist before sliding his hands to grip your ass, pulling you further against him, letting him take you more and more and more.

“Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?” You blink dumbly at his request, before slowly inching a hand in-between your sweaty thighs. Your fingers split into a V, surrounding where he fills you, and you shake your head, dropping your hand. It’s too much, too sensitive. “That’s okay,” he drawls, making your heart skip a beat. “I’ll take care of you.”

He drops forward, sweaty chest pressing against your back, and his hips continue to pummel into yours, cock pressing into your so sweetly. Jake snakes an arm beneath you, blunt finger rubbing quick little circles into your clit. 

You cry out, squirming away as he relentlessly attacked your poor, tired nub. It’s overwhelming, face pressed into his sheets, the scent of sex filling the air, the way your cunt’s being shown more attention than it has in a while, and most importantly, Jake Seresin's lips reaching anywhere they can- your jaw, shoulder, back. He’s everywhere. And you can’t hold off the inevitable any longer. 

Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, pulsing around him as you shake under him. You gush around him, an extra burst of wetness almost forcing Jake out of your cunt. He grunts, doing his best to keep his rhythm consistent, keep it nice to help you ride it out.

“There you go there you go. Just like that.” 

You throw an arm back, nails clawing into whatever part of him they land on. 

“Cum in me Jake, please, please.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, but you don’t care. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” His hand drops from your throbbing clit, granting you relief as his pace falters. When he finishes, he’s loud right in your ear, spurts of cum filling your soaking pussy. 

The stillness that follows is thick, hanging heavy in the air. You accept the weight of him inside and out, taking deep breaths as you try to calm down. 

Jake stays inside of you, and he curls around you ever so slightly, desire and need to be close to you outweighing the discomfort of his softening cock. 

It’s nice, being stuffed full like this. But eventually, you squirm, tapping his arm that rests near your head. 

“Jake.”

A chaste kiss is pressed to your sweaty shoulder. 

“I know, honey. I know.” Jake pulls out of you slowly, and you wince at the feeling. He hops off the bed, leaving you to curl up on his bed, trying to ignore the sticky cum that’s spread along you. 

The next moments pass in a blur; you vaguely feel a damp cloth clean your pussy, a sweatshirt slid over your shoulders, and a glass of water gently pressed into your hands as you sit up. 

You blink up at Jake, sipping your water as you take in his appearance. Hair messy, chest flushed, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. 

“How ya feeling?” he asks gently, sitting next to you. 

“Like I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.” Jake smirks at you, a sick sense of pride filling him before he rubs your thigh.  

“I’ll take care of ya then too.” And that makes you smile so sweetly at him, he feels the breath get knocked out of him. You stretch your arms above your head, twisting as you get comfortable in his bed. 

“And I’m feeling stupid because we could’ve been doing this for months.” Jake laughs at that, before humming in agreement. 

“We’ll we’ve got a lot of time to make up for… later of course. I need my beauty sleep.” You roll your eyes at that, and he kisses your shoulder, before curling around you, a smile on his face as he reluctantly drifts to sleep. After all, his dream was finally a reality.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

I Thought I Lost You

♡♡-Request: Mermaid!reader wears a pendant to breathe on land. You go on a date with your boyfriend Neuvillette; what could go wrong?

Content: hurt/comfort, mermaid!reader, gn!reader, near death experience.

It was strange. To one day care so much for someone that you'd risk your life. Before you met Neuvillette, you stayed below the surface. Your tail cutting through the water as you swam, doing your daily routine of gathering sea creatures. Some for food others for your care, the days continued like this until one day; it was different.

In the distance, you caught sight of a man. Or what looked to be a man. He had scales too but his tail and form was….different. 

His swimming was ethereal, how easily he glided through the water. A family of otters swimming around with him. And for the first time, your heart beat turned irregular. You were scared at first, not understanding what it meant. But after talking with some friends, they told you that you more than likely were growing feelings for him. You took it to heart and worked your way up to speaking with him. He seemed just as nervous as you were. But he was always open for conversation. 

Eventually, you both confessed. Confused by your feelings but willing to try, he'd asked to kiss you that day. And you did.

Now? It's been five years and you couldn't be happier. There were issues at first, since you always lived below the surface and Neuvillette, you found, was extremely busy. Rarely having leisure time to visit you. So you decided to obtain a pendant, allowing you to breathe above water. There was a time limit to it and it even gave you legs in the process! As long as you stay dry. It was perfect. Before him, you never once thought about breaching the surface. Afraid of the outcome. But now you couldn't imagine not being able to walk among the shore and sun. 

"Your case. Is it truly that troubling?" You questioned, arms wrapped tight around his as you looked up at him. He gave a sigh, "I find most of my cases to be straight forward but this one…I'm unsure how I should proceed."

You gave him a smile, fiddling with your pendant. 

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. I trust your judgment and speaking of; why don't you choose where we have lunch today?" Your eyelashes fluttered, peering up at him. Giggling when the tips of his ears turned a bit red. "Very well, but I know you'll want somewhere with shellfish." You nod, allowing him to guide you into the city, you'd only been a handful of times. It was often too crowded for your tastes. 

"How about-" He stopped, his eyes slow to widen when he noticed. Even before you did, until you fell to the ground. Your tail sprouting as the struggle to breathe finally made you realize; someone took your pendant. Or knocked it off. You weren't sure who or when they'd managed, but now you couldn't breathe. Body twitching and mouth open agape, gasping. Your gills begging for oxygen from the water you swim through everyday. 

In an instant, you were lifted into his arms. The sky turning a dark gray as rain started to fall-it didn't make any sense but it was hard to dwell. Your vision getting blurry-you were going to die. That's all you could think. You were going to die.

Your hands tried to tug at him, you couldn't die without saying how much you loved him. But he wouldn't look at you. Refused to. His eyes hyper focused in front of him; he needed to get you to water. Now. 

"Neuv..-" "No." He refused. Refused. Refused. Refused. There. He could see water in his eyesight so he picked up his pace. 

"Please…" you gasped, "Neuvi-" your body was now airborne, being tossed into the water. Your eyes widened as you could finally breathe, even if it was an abrupt landing. "Please be okay…" you heard him muttering. His outfit soaked as he sat in the shallow part of the water. Rain falling down around him.

"Neuvi.."you said softly, breaching the surface. "Oh thank God." He let out a breath he'd been holding. "I thought I lost you…"

You smiled, "You could never lose me."

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[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 2

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8k this part

description: after joining the straw hats on board the going merry, you're confused as to what to do with your life from now—and you can't help but get closer to zoro.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, patching of wounds

author’s note: second chapter! i hope you like it <3 out of the three this one's probably my favorite personally, i really like the wound-stitching scene & i think it's one of the best scenes ive ever written. i'm suchhh a slut for the patching up of wounds trope.

You rose before the sun, careful to pack your belongings all in one sack. Considering the very little amount you’d brought, it was a relatively easy task—leaving the sloop would be fine, too, as you paid for the slip for a few months longer at least. Your father had so many ships across so many seas it hardly mattered much anymore. 

You double-checked that you had all of your things before shutting down and leaving the sloop, consulting some of the dock men to transfer a boat lift under the berth. You moved carefully across the east port, making quick time as you returned to the Straw Hats’ ship in slip fifty-two. 

There were apparent signs of life when you reached the ship, even with the sky cast over in dark hues of navy. All of the dead bodies had been removed, for one, and dock men were loading barrels up on the deck while Sanji watched over them. His expression brightened as his gaze fell across you. 

“Lady Dracule!” he called out, slipping off from the barrel on which he’d been perched to meet you at the pier. You gave him an unimpressed look. 

“I have a name, you know.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that,” Sanji answered, a lopsided grin pulling up the side of his face. You rolled his eyes and introduced yourself, which only prompted a brighter smile and a steady pat of his hand on your back. “A fine name, for a fine woman.” 

“Sanji, stop flirting with the crew.” You glanced up to see Nami, one hip cocked to the side with her hand on her waist, staring down with an exasperated glint in her eye. “Welcome aboard the Going Merry. Sorry I was a little grouchy last night. I don’t like having my sleep interrupted.” She leaned down to offer you her hand, and you took it, climbing aboard the ship. 

“The Going Merry?” 

“Fits it, don’t you think?” Sanji asked from behind you. Nami eyed him again, volume dropping as she tilted her head towards yours. 

“He’ll quit with the sweet talk eventually. I’ll give you a tour once we’ve cast off. We’re just waiting for Zoro to get back from town, and then we’re all set.” She turned to bark out another few orders to Sanji— “Finish up with the crates already!” 

“Anything you want, madam,” Sanji said with a little bow. Nami let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Luffy already prepared a room for you. I’ll show you to it.” She led you below deck, back towards the ship’s aft. There was a collection of rooms all crammed together, one beside the other. “These are the women’s quarters. Men’s’ are all the way at the front of the ship.” She nodded behind her. “You get this one here. Sorry, it’s small.” 

She opened the door to the very last room, and you stepped inside, surveying your surroundings. It wasn’t much; the cabin barely scraped by as a room, consisting of only a wardrobe, a hanging bed, and a small table and chair stuck in the corner. A round window at the very edge of the room revealed the water just a mere few feet below. 

“It’ll do fine, thank you,” you said. Your room back at home was far more ornate, but you’d never been picky. 

“You can sleep for a few more hours,” Nami said, lingering by the cabin mouth. “Come find me when you’re ready for a tour. We should be setting off in a few moments, if Zoro’s back.”

You gave her a smile, and she left, the patter of her footsteps dying off as she walked further and further away. 

It didn’t take you long to get arranged, and afterwards, you gingerly sat down on the bed, the rope tied to the ceiling causing it to sway under you. You were still uncertain about boarding the ship, but you couldn't exactly return to your sloop now. And it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, you tried to convince yourself. 

You felt the ship start moving just a few moments later, and you stood up, walking across the rocking ship to get up to the deck. You were making fast time, Loguetown’s silhouette rapidly getting swallowed in the gulp of the horizon. 

Nami was bickering with Zoro and Luffy when you found her. “What even took you so long? We were due to leave a half-hour ago.” 

“I was getting new swords,” Zoro said calmly. Nami eyed him, then yanked something out of his hand. A wallet, it looked like, stuffed with bills of berry. “You can’t be mad at me. I spent less than half of your budget.” 

“They scammed you,” Nami scoffed, eyeing the katanas at Zoro’s hip. Zoro simply shrugged. “A sword for free? It’s probably made of plastic.” 

Zoro snorted. “I’d be able to tell.” 

Nami cast him a look, gaze unimpressed under the line of her eyelashes. “You can’t tell the difference between a ship mast and a tree.” 

“Yeah, but I know swords.” 

“Oh, hey!” Luffy, who’d seemed tuned out of his crewmates’ conversation, said as he spotted you. “Glad to see you here. Officially part of the crew.” 

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not so sure if I’ll be joining you forever.” Luffy looked confused by that, but not particularly offended—Nami and Zoro had turned to watch you, too, argument dying on trembling legs. “Right now the plan is to help you get to the Grand Line. From there you can drop me home. And then we’ll part ways.” 

“If you change your mind…” Luffy trailed off, then patted you on the shoulder. “Nami, were you going to show her around?” 

“I was, but I’ve got some mapping to do.” Nami glanced over at Zoro. “Hey. Make yourself useful.” 

“I hate you,” Zoro muttered. He brushed past you, just barely motioning with his head for you to follow. “Afterdeck.” 

You stepped into the small space. It was easily the most secluded place on the ship deck, decorated with three young tangerine trees in white boxy planters. “I like your trees.” 

“They’re Nami’s trees.” Zoro gestured with his head again, and you followed him. The tour was brief; Zoro didn’t have much to say, generally just showing you a room before telling you what it was and departing for the next area. 

You were about halfway through the tour when Zoro spoke again, the words abrupt in his throat. He spat them out rather than spoke them, and you got the impression he’d been mulling over talking for a while— “You ever beat your dad in combat?” 

You snorted. “No.” 

Zoro didn’t look at you, opting instead to push through the next doorway and gesture vaguely around him to show you the surroundings. “Gotten close?” 

“Never.” You shrugged. “He taught me the basics, but I wasn’t the best student. He’d try to be strict and everything, but… sword fighting isn’t really my thing. You’re probably better than me.” 

Zoro gazed at you skeptically. “He taught you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you—” He paused, mouth open for a moment before resuming his sentence. He didn’t sound particularly hesitant, but the pause had you stifling a smile anyway, knowing he was at least a little bit flustered. “We should train together.” 

“Was that a question?” 

“Not really.” Zoro’s lip quirked, one side of his mouth tugging upwards in an odd semblance of a smile. He didn’t seem the type to smile often, though, so it didn’t look out of ordinary on his face. “Have you seen enough of the ship yet, or do you want me to show you the bilge too?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you answered primly. “Now did you want to fight me or not?” 

Zoro actually smiled at that. 

You decided to train on the main deck, in an area wide enough to not bump into anyone else. You shed your jacket, pulling Hiru out of its scabbard. Zoro winced as the sun hit the silver blade, reflecting a blinding gleam off its surface. “That a stylistic choice?” 

“I polish things when I get anxious,” you answered. “So not really.” 

“Right.” Zoro untied a black bandana from where it was fixed on his bicep, fingers working fluidly against the knot. Once he got it untied, he wrapped it around his head, tying it carefully around his head. Afterwards, he slid one of his swords out of its scabbard, holding it with his fingers to follow with the other. “How low should my expectations be?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you answered. Zoro let a soft sound out through his mouth, but he said no more, transferring one sword to each hand. He moved carefully, arms arching over his head to lower to each of his sides. You lifted Hiru up, more casual in your movements than Zoro was. 

You paid more attention to Zoro than the actual fight when you started moving. You figured you’d have time to genuinely practice later—you hadn’t kept a close eye on the swordsman in the battle against the pirate hunters, and your curiosity was eating at you. Zoro was all angles when he fought, elbows lifted and limbs pin-straight. That wasn’t to say there was no flexibility in his movements, though—he dodged your oncoming attacks easily, sidestepping with a light twist of the torso so your blade cut air instead of flesh. 

Just a few seconds in you could tell Zoro was far, far better than you. You parried one of his attacks, gasp ripping from your throat as you just barely managed to block off a slash from his katana with Hiru. He spun towards you, careful not to actually cut as his blade came for the throat. You managed to dodge just in time, moving backwards with a quick patter of your feet against the wooden deck. 

There was barely anything skewed in his motions, you were soon to realize. He was perfect in every sense of the word. Your styles were vastly different, of course—Zoro mainly relied on his blades, and his physicality was carefully practiced, no curves or bends apparent in the straight lines and slants of his body. In comparison, you were much more slippery, focusing mainly on your agility to carry you throughout a fight rather than your strength. 

“Your elbow,” Zoro said. You barely managed to respond, letting out a grunt of effort as you blocked Zoro’s oncoming attack. 

“Hm?”

Zoro’s katana came from the left. He used the other one to knock your arm up, nearly gentle in his movements, and you were reminded of how Mihawk used to train you—stopping mid-fight to reposition your limbs, using his sword to carefully push your hands in the right places. “You’re dropping it.” 

“I don’t care much for angles,” you answered, ducking under Zoro’s incoming blade and sliding off to the side instead of trying to shove against it. Zoro seemed startled by that, struck off-balance as he stumbled, turning to face you. 

You jerked your sword towards him, one leg coming up to shove against his torso whilst doing so. You managed to knock him fully off-balance then, and he staggered against his feet, teetering precariously backwards. “Your center of gravity is screwed.” 

“You dad kept flinging me around the pier,” Zoro said. You raised your brows, the phrase nonsensical to your ears. But it did sound like Mihawk. “It run in the family?”

“Very funny.” You dodged another slash of Zoro’s swords. “The only thing I picked up well in our lessons was about keeping balance.” 

“And dodging, apparently.” You snickered at that, parrying another one of Zoro’s attacks—but it was getting harder and harder, what with the immense strength of his body you simply couldn’t keep up with. As flexible as you were, you weren’t quick enough this time, and Zoro swept you off your feet so you fell to the ground, wind bursting out of your chest all in one rush. Hiru clattered a few feet away, your fingers unfolding from their grip and letting it move freely.

Zoro slid his swords back in their sheaths, letting them close with a satisfying click. “You fight too defensively.”

You lay there for a moment, trying to gather air back into your lungs. “Never found a point in attacking others, really.” You got up, straightening your shirt before bending over to pick Hiru up from the floor. “Good fight.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, but his voice was weak, tapering off to blend in with the wind. He had an uncertain look on his face, big brown eyes all fuzzy around the edges, like there was some cloudlike film covering him from seeing properly. You frowned at him. 

“Is that because I’m worse or better than you expected?” you asked, gesturing vaguely up at his expression. Zoro blinked, the fog over his eyes clearing as he glanced down to meet your gaze. You waited expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. “Zoro?” you prompted. 

“Sorry,” Zoro said. “I’m—I’m going to go to my cabin.” 

You watched him leave, growing more quizzical by the second. Well, you’d gotten what you’d come there for, anyway. Roronoa Zoro was a great swordsman. And he certainly had the potential to be the greatest in the world, too—a realization that shook you a little, heart trembling from where it was fixed in your chest cavity. You swallowed hard, mind replaying the firm motions of his body from the fight. He’d been confident, sure of himself. You had even forgotten he still hosted Yoru’s slash along his torso from just a week or so prior, he’d been so… perfect. 

“He’s good, huh?” 

You startled, turning to see Usopp sitting atop a pile of crates like a king on a throne. He was picking at his fingernails. “Zoro,” he clarified. “Best swordsman in the East Blue.” 

“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at where Zoro had left. “He is.” 

Usopp eyed you for a moment. “Your shell phone is ringing.”

You startled, patting down your figure before finally unearthing your phone from where it was tucked safely away in your pocket. You opened it, pushing the den den mushi in your ear as it vibrated, little mouth making soft rumbling sounds to catch your attention. Usopp clearly didn’t know a thing about privacy, though, because he kept watching even as you picked up— “Hello?” 

“Back home yet, darling?” Mihawk asked over the line, and you relaxed, your entire body going slack with comfort as you heard the familiar low hum of your father’s voice. “I figured you’d go back as quickly as possible.” 

“No, actually,” you said. “Luffy roped me into coming aboard his ship.” 

You could practically see Mihawk’s brows lift up in surprise. “You joined the Straw Hat pirate’s crew?” 

“No. They’re bringing me home. I’m helping them get to the Grand Line,” you corrected. Mihawk hummed, the sound a crackle of monotony through the den den mushi’s mouth. 

“And why, pray tell, would you do that?” 

You chewed at your bottom lip, glancing off the side of the Going Merry to the East Blue. The sun had risen fully, fixing itself in a warm beam in the sky. “I was curious about Roronoa Zoro. You never told me why you left him alive. Or why you let Luffy go.” You could still feel Usopp’s gaze on you while you spoke, and you just knew he’d be telling the rest of his crew this after your conversation finished. “So I wanted to figure out your reasoning.” 

“Ah,” Mihawk said. “Has he healed from Yoru’s wound yet?”

“It’s not like I tore off his shirt to check, dad,” you muttered. Mihawk barked out a laugh, and you startled at the sound before settling down again. “He walks fine. I saw bandages.” 

Mihawk seemed pleased by that. “Wonderful. He’s a hardy one. You should fight him.”

“Already did,” you answered. “He beat me.”

Mihawk considered that for a moment. “Eh, I saw that coming.”

You scoffed. “You have no faith in me. Where are you now?” 

“South Blue, still,” Mihawk replied. “Are you at least enjoying yourself there? It’ll be good for you to make friends, sweetheart. You don’t get much social interaction other than me and the villagers, after all.” 

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a ride home,” you said insistently, but your voice was weak, and Mihawk clearly didn’t believe you. Your mind wandered back to Zoro—the firm muscle of his body, the hushed tone he spoke in, and you found your face pinkening. “One of them—one of them wants to kill you. That’s his entire life’s purpose. To murder you.” 

“I think you’re being a tad bit broad, darling,” Mihawk said with a click of his tongue. “You seem rather enamored with this particular young swordsman. Something to say?” 

“I—” your words fumbled in your mouth, and you were certain you were entirely pink now, the sun’s glowing rays only making your face warmer than it was rapidly turning. “Stop. I’m hanging up now.”

Mihawk’s voice was tastefully dry when he responded. “I’m sure.”

“Shut up, old man,” you grumbled. 

“Right. Remember the rule, dear,” Mihawk trilled, and despite his voice being as monotone as ever, you could still identify the undertones of it—laced with syrupy mocking, all teasing and dramatic. “No dating unless he can beat you in combat!” 

You actually did hang up this time, practically tearing the den den mushi out of your ear. You huffed out an irritated breath, rubbing a circle into the shell of your snail as an apology just a moment later. “Sorry,” you murmured. “My dad’s a bitch.” 

The snail just let out a little grumble in response. You tucked it back into its case and snapped the phone shut. 

“Aw, we’re not allowed to say hi?” You spun around at the new voice, glaring upon seeing Sanji and Luffy having joined Usopp in his eavesdropping. Sanji bore a gigantic grin on his face. “Sounded like an interesting conversation.” 

“None of you know what boundaries are,” you muttered, but it was light-hearted. 

You didn’t see Zoro until suppertime, a fact that rang odd in your head. It seemed like he’d completely evaporated from the ship, disappearing around every corner as you spent the rest of the day getting to know the rest of the crew better. Something had happened, but you weren’t exactly sure what—and you weren’t exactly sure if you were close enough to him to even ask, yet. 

Sanji had cooked up a dinner so fine you doubted it could even quality as ship food. From your time traveling with your father, rations on-board hadn’t been much of anything—a few scraps of bread or dried meat, old apples, perhaps some fish if you were lucky. Mihawk hadn’t the biggest priority on eating well, but the Straw Hat crew seemed to have the exact opposite opinion. You were served a bowl of miso soup along with a bowl of rice, and dishes of tofu and oyster sauce stir-fried vegetables were carefully laid out all across the table. 

“Bon appétit,” Sanji said, taking a half-bow before slipping into the last seat around the table. “I hope it’s to your liking. Yours especially, Lady Dracule.” He gave you a little wink at that. You just stared at him. 

“I thought I told you my name.”

“Well, you did, but I thought Lady Dracule had a nice ring to it.” 

“It doesn’t,” you said. Nami stifled a snort, the hand not holding her chopsticks coming up to cover her mouth. Sanji didn’t look the slightest bit dissuaded. You turned your attention on Zoro, who hadn’t spoken a word throughout the whole meal. He was rather studiously focused on his bowl, eyes picking apart the grains of rice like they’d reveal the world’s greatest secrets. 

Carefully, you leaned towards Nami, voice coming out in a hushed whisper. “Is he okay?” 

“He gets like that sometimes,” Nami answered, her words drowned out by Usopp and Luffy’s cheerful conversation. “Nobody can crack him except for Luffy. I’d just leave him be.” 

“You don’t know why?” 

Nami just shrugged. “Hell, we’re all depressed sometimes. Not within my rights to question him.”

You nodded, but your gaze didn’t move away from Zoro’s figure. There was a particular squeezing sensation deep in your chest—a little flip-flop thing, a sort of panging you couldn’t quite place. He glanced up, dark eyes meeting yours for just a fraction of a second. But he didn’t flinch away. He just returned your gaze, strong and unblinking. 

To your surprise, Zoro was the first to look away, craning his neck to study his bowl again and continuing on like your extended bout of eye contact hadn’t even happened. You watched him, dumbstruck, until Nami nudged you in the shoulder. The rest of the group’s idle chatter had died down, and Usopp and Sanji were staring at you, low murmurs falling out of their mouths. You cleared your throat, finally dropping your gaze from the green-haired swordsman and attempting to ignore the fact everyone had caught you staring. 

You didn’t do much of anything after supper—you just returned to your cabin, carefully walking across the creaking boards of the ship. Luffy assigned you mid watch, so you had a few hours to sleep before waking up at midnight to look out for any enemies. 

You couldn’t find yourself falling asleep even after you’d slipped into bed. You’d changed, a loose blouse light against your skin, black silk shorts grazing your thighs. It was cold out, so you shrugged on a robe as you headed out into the darkness of the Going Merry. You emerged out on the deck, taking in a breath of the night air as you glanced to see who had the night watch. 

Just your luck. It was Zoro. 

He seemed tranquil, lounging across a hammock with his white sword—the Wado Ichimonji—cradled in his arms. In the dim light you couldn’t see if his eyes were open or closed, but as you got closer, he cracked one of them open, a gleam reflecting off his right iris. “Hi,” you said, moving over to the side of the ship to watch the waves on the water. 

Zoro didn’t deign to respond, so you just stood there, watching the sea lap at the side of the ship until eventually the hour struck twelve. Zoro left soundlessly. You stayed awake all throughout your watch until Usopp came to relieve you of your duties. 

Zoro was avoiding you. 

A few days had passed since you first boarded the Going Merry. They hadn’t been of much interest—just days of practicing with your sword and chatting with the crew, for the most part. You helped around the ship, completing various tasks apparently none of the members knew or cared enough to do. You were just emerging from the bilge, having done basic maintenance to ensure everything was working properly, when you bumped into him. The man was apparently taking a nap, though you couldn’t figure out why the storage area was a very good place to sleep. Still, he seemed comfortable enough, long body splayed along a grouping of crates. 

“Hi,” you said, for what seemed like the hundredth time over a few days. Zoro just averted his gaze and let out a little grunt in response. You stared at him for a moment. The realization had dawned on you ever since the first day, but it was growing more and more apparent, and you were baffled as to what you’d done to incur the silent treatment. 

“Hi,” you repeated, more purposefully this time.

“Hey,” Zoro said, though the word was clearly bitter in his mouth. You propped your hands on your hips and stared down at him. 

“You’re avoiding me.” 

Zoro closed his eyes, expression not even changing. “You’re not that special.”

“Ever since we fought that one time, you’ve been ignoring me,” you barreled on, entirely ignoring his quip. Zoro cocked a brow, eyes still closed, and you glared down at it. “I’d like to know why.” 

“Why do you care? We’re not friends.” 

“Isn’t it natural to want to know why someone is mad at you?” you demanded, perplexed. Zoro sighed then, shifting around on his boxes. 

“I’m not mad at you.” You heaved out a sigh even more irritated than Zoro’s. Your experience in the realm of dealing with close-lipped men’s personal issues was, unfortunately, rather well-seasoned. You’d had to coax situations out of your father, one hand pressed against Yoru’s hilt to prevent Mihawk from lashing out his frustrations rather than explaining them. But that didn’t mean you were all too fond of it. 

“Okay, well, why else would you be ignoring me then?” 

Zoro’s response was annoyingly frank. “It’s not really any of your business.” 

You pursed your lips, trying to suppress the irritated noise that threatened to burst from your throat. “I don’t like being on bad terms with people,” you started. “If I did something to piss you off, I’d very much like it if you—” 

The floor slipped out from underneath you before you could finish your sentence. You fell with a graceless clatter, lurching forward into the stack of crates Zoro was leaning on, words dying on your tongue. The entire boat trembled, quivering from side to side as if the ocean waves had suddenly propelled a thousand more ripples at its surface.

Zoro sat immediately up, one hand pushing you off of him as he scrambled off the crates. “What was that?” 

“I don’t—” Just a moment after regaining your balance, there was another dull thud and a row of quivers. You remained steady this time, glancing carefully around you before you and Zoro were both hurrying up towards the ship deck. The Going Merry was in chaos when you emerged, Nami at the helm while Sanji was firing up a cannon beside her. 

“What’s going on?” you demanded, the tails of your coat lapping around your calves as you hurried up besides Luffy. 

“Pirates,” Luffy said grimly, nodding towards a ship that was quickly gaining on you. “They blew through the stern railing. Do any of you recognize the jolly roger?” 

You glanced up, taking in the billowing sail boasting a pure-white jolly roger with a top hat and mustache. “Nope. These things are getting more and more ridiculous,” you muttered. 

“Yeah,” Luffy agreed, affronted. “Ours is way better.” 

You turned your gaze up at the Straw Hat crew’s aforementioned jolly roger. “...No comment.” 

“We can’t outrun them!” Nami shouted from her place at the helm. Sanji had successfully nailed a cannonball into the railing of the oncoming ship, but they had a dozen more men. “I’m going to try to get closer. Best chance we have is one-on-one combat.” She turned to fix the small grouping with a glare. “Don’t just stand there. Get to it!” 

You launched into action, hurrying to climb up the rigging to get a better view as Nami veered hard to starboard. The enemy ship had dropped their cannons, and you could see them preparing to board the Merry, grabbing onto loose ropes of rigging. “They’re going to swing over,” you reported, watching as the ship tilted in your direction, gaining on you. “I see maybe two or three dozen men.” 

You hesitated, glancing around at the rather stationary crew around you. Your lip tugged between your teeth, and you stood there for a moment, unspoken words heavy on your tongue. You could see the captain yelling out orders on the ship across from you, and you turned abruptly, fixing Sanji with a look. 

“Sanji, trade with Usopp. I want you to nail a cannon at their port stern.” 

“W—What? Me?” Usopp stuttered. You nodded. 

“I want Sanji on the frontlines. That should be close enough now.” You gazed out at the rapidly thinning gap between the two ships. One final cannonball whizzed towards, and you ducked, watching as it just brushed the side of the Merry. The ship rocked, and you tightened your grip on the rigging, satisfied to see it’d barely left a mark. 

“They’re coming over,” Sanji reported, and you nodded, sliding Hiru out from your scabbard as enemy pirates started swinging over on ropes. Luffy was the first to react, an arching, rubbery limb catching one of them midair and yanking them down into the ocean. Boots thudded on the ground as the enemy pirates landed aboard the Going Merry. 

“Time for a fight,” Zoro murmured, barely audible from your left. You jumped down from the rigging, sword coming down to crash against one of the enemy pirates. He reacted slowly, pistol cocking towards your chest—but you just brushed it to the side with Hiru, cutting it straight out his hand and following up with a flurry of sword thrusts. 

Besides you, you saw Sanji sliding into battle, spinning on his palms to deliver a mean right hook to someone’s jawbone. An audible crack pierced the air, and you winced, breezing backwards on your feet as two pirates closed in on you. 

Luffy seemed to have engaged in a one-on-one with the enemy captain, who was easily identifiable due to the gigantic top hat perched upon his head. He had thick black hair tied neatly back in a ponytail, and a mustache and beard to match. A thick cutlass was tightened in one fist, thrusted towards Luffy—but every sweep was dodged with unbelievable bends of the torso. 

You turned your attention away, whipping your sword at the pirates that surrounded you. Hiru clashed with their blades, gleaming silver scraping against theirs. You leaned forward, and the blade before you broke with the pressure, sword snapping under Hiru’s will. 

The sword dropped out of the pirate’s hand, and you took the opportunity to pull your leg up, kicking him squarely in the jaw. The other lunged for you, and your fist dug into their torso, hands gripping tight to their belt. You bent over, twisting into his body to push him over your shoulder in a sweeping throw. 

He fell to the floor all in one, and you landed a kick to his chest just to ensure he wouldn’t get up again. Another man—bigger, this time, probably half your width and inches taller—gunned for you. 

You sidestepped him easily, agility tilting in your favor as you escaped his grasp. It was harder to take this one down—while you could dodge him well enough, and parry his oncoming attacks, he was simply too strong to compete with. Strength isn’t everything, little hawk, Mihawk would always tell you. Everyone has a weakness. Get them off balance. Use your points. 

The man delivered a stinging left hook to your torso, and you gasped. He took the opportunity to grab onto your wrist, grip so tight you couldn’t move your hand. Hiru clattered out from between your fingers. You directed a hit with your elbow towards the pirate’s sternum, but it was oddly-placed, and he just sneered down at you. 

One of his large fists rose to thud against your skull, and you braced for impact, but the blow never landed. A warm squishing sound of a sword against skin made your entire body shudder, and you turned to stare as your assailant’s head slid cleanly off of his neck. 

Zoro was behind him when his body collapsed, sword slick with blood as he spun it lazily around in a hand. “Careful,” he said. 

You gaped up at him for merely a second more before you realized your jaw was ajar. You flushed, bending over to fish Hiru up from the floor. “I was fine.” 

Zoro just thrust his sword cleanly into the torso of an incoming pirate, eyes not breaking away from yours. He slid it out with a sickening sound, flicking the blood off the blade with a motion of his hand. “A thank you might be nice.”

“Behind you,” you said instead, but Zoro was already reacting. You watched him, an incurable sigh perched on the tip of your tongue. He was good. He was really, really good, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. “Is that most of them?” 

“I think—” Zoro cut himself off, glancing over his shoulder as you both hear the familiar yell of Luffy’s voice screaming out one of his final moves. You both watched, soundless, as his foot smashed into the top hat pirate’s face, flinging him all the way across the water straight into the mast of his own ship. Only mere seconds later did the mast crack, the wooden pole falling down in a glorious, wooden heap. 

“...Yeah, we’re fine.” Zoro said. He leaned down, grabbing the shirt of one of the fallen pirates to wipe his blade with before sliding it back in its scabbard. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“On it.” Nami snapped her bo staff closed—when she’d jumped down into the battle, you were unsure, but she was already returning to her place at the helm. “Toss these bodies off our boat, would you, Zoro?” 

“Right.” Zoro bent over, easily picking up the fallen pirate and chucking the corpse overboard without another thought. You watched him the entire time, the strain of his biceps against his skin forming solid ridges up his arms. 

“I can clean your swords,” you said, words a bit too late out of your mouth. Zoro glanced up, brow creased. “While you’re doing that.” 

Zoro looked uncertain, but he unstrapped the scabbards from his hip, handing the twin katanas to you. You took them, glancing over his figure again. He moved with difficulty, and while you’d originally thought that was because of the bodies’ weight, you now saw the real reason. Lines of crimson were seeping through his shirt, a pool by the left side of his lower abdomen the biggest injured site. You took an involuntary step forward. “You’re hurt.”

“I can treat them later,” Zoro said dismissively. “Gotta clean up the Merry first.” 

“No, mosshead, the lady is right,” Sanji said. You startled, not having noticed him slip up beside you. “Usopp and I can manage with waste control, eh?” He winked. “Go clean up.” 

Zoro glared at him, the look dripping with malice, but he didn’t argue past that. “Fine,” he said, chucking another body—this one alive—off the side of the ship before straightening. You heard the hitch in his breath as he spoke, along with the near-imperceptible wince of his face. “You good, Luffy?” 

“A little hungry,” Luffy responded truthfully. He was still watching the other ship. Fire had started aboard it, and soft billows of black smoke drifted in the air. “Can you cook something up later, Sanji?” 

“Got it,” Sanji said. “Tell your first mate to patch up his wound before he bleeds out all over our beautiful deck.” 

“The deck isn’t beautiful, it’s got blood and guts all over it,” Zoro muttered. 

“Well, have a little respect and don’t add to the mess.” Sanji fixed him with a stern look. Zoro bared his teeth at him in a grimace, extracting a sharp little laugh out of your throat. His eyes brushed over yours, a glimmer of surprise dancing in his irises, before he ducked inside. 

“Why are you following me?” Zoro asked flatly, as you entered the cabin he’d gone into. You’d hastened to keep up with him, only a few steps behind before finding the room he’d gone into. Zoro had propped himself up on the hanging bed, loosening the ties of his wrap shirt to expose his bare chest. 

“I was wondering if you needed any help with your wounds.” You deposited Zoro’s swords, along with Hiru, on the table in the room, moving closer to him to survey the scene. “If you wanted it.” 

Zoro’s gaze met yours, and he said nothing for a moment. “First aid kit’s over there,” he finally said, nodding to the table. You moved towards it, opening up the small box to expose supplies of bandages, needles, stitch string, and disinfectant inside. You carried the box over to the bed, sanitizing your hands before carefully parting the folds of Zoro’s shirt. The cloth stuck to skin, coagulating blood making the shirt peel rather than move. Now that his entire torso was bared, though, you could fully inspect his wounds. There were still bandages from Yoru’s cut, all dirtied up now from his other injuries—you’d have to take them off and re-dress them, so he’d be in the bed for thirty minutes at least. 

You turned your attention to the cut by Zoro’s abdomen, deciding it was the most important thing to focus on. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was gushing a steady flow of blood, and you picked up a towel to press against the wound. “Hold,” you instructed, and Zoro’s fingers brushed against yours as he took a hold of the cloth. “Thanks. I’ve got to take your bandages off, then I’ll clean and dress all the wounds. That one down there might need stitches.” 

“How do you know how to do this?” Zoro asked, watching as you unwrapped the previous bandages from around his chest. You were careful to touch his skin as little as possible, distracting yourself with the blood and gauze. 

“My dad,” you answered. You’d spent too many late nights patching up a wound Mihawk had brushed off as unimportant, only to wind up bleeding out on your couch. Zoro raised a brow. 

“Dracule Mihawk gets injured?” 

“Of course he does,” you said with a huff. “Don’t be stupid. He’s a man, just like the rest of you.” The gash from Yoru had fully scabbed over, revealing a long, trembling crust of dark ochre. You finished peeling off all the bandages, and cast them to the side. 

“You know a lot.” 

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” you quipped. You moved away from the desk to fill a bucket with warm water, dipping a cloth into it and squeezing out the excess. You dabbed around Yoru’s scab with the cloth, careful not to break the shell while still cleaning it of any extra gunk. Then you focused on flushing out the other wounds, wiping across his skin and getting all the little nicks on his chest and arms. Zoro didn’t say a word, but you could feel his eyes boring into your skull, watching you with a hardened intensity that made your insides churn. 

You nudged his hand away, examining the big cut. The rag he was holding had filled up with blood, white cotton dyed red and sodden with liquid. Thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have lessened. You wiped up all the last of it with your towel, swiping it against the pills of blood that had caught along the waistband of his trousers. Zoro hissed as you came into contact with the wound. “Sorry,” you murmured. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

You frowned at that. “Because it hurt?” 

“I thought you were mad at me,” Zoro said stiffly. You raised your brows. “Since… you thought I was annoyed at you, or whatever.”

“Just because you feel a certain kind of way towards me doesn’t mean I reciprocate the same feelings,” you answered, setting aside your towel after deciding everything had been cleaned out well enough. You picked up another cloth, dabbing this one with some alcohol to disinfect the wound. “This is going to sting,” you warned. 

Zoro’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other as you flushed out the wound. His torso clenched, and your eyes fell across his exposed midriff, watching the tight skin that was seemingly sculpted into muscles. You glanced away just a moment later, a dusting of warmth brushing over your cheeks. “On that topic,” you hastened to say, trying to distract yourself from the half-naked man in front of you, “Why were you avoiding me?” 

Zoro let out a sigh, the sound stuttered as he clenched his jaw again when you brushed your towel against his wound. You waited, taking out a fresh cloth to dab at the other nicks on his body. You examined the wound near his left side again. “Stitches.” 

“Great,” Zoro muttered. You ignored him, searching in the kit for some needle and thread. “Can you take the stitches out from your dad’s yet?” 

“Ha ha. You’re going to need those for a few more weeks,” you said, without even looking at the scab to check. “Ask me again later. Yoru cuts are deadly.” 

Zoro let his eyes flutter closed. “It’s a great sword.” 

“Yeah, it is,” you said. You paused from where you were threading the needle, glancing up at Zoro’s face now that you knew he couldn’t catch you staring. He looked so peaceful in this state, eyelashes splayed along his cheeks, dark umber freckles that you hadn’t noticed before splattered across his face. There were dozens of them, skin sun-worn and bearing the marks as proof—constellations of dark brown stars, so similar to his warm, glowing skin it was easy to miss. A five-o’-clock shadow traced around his mouth, and at his left ear, his golden earrings gleamed bright. 

“I don’t feel anything,” Zoro said, and you snapped out of your reverie, fingers fumbling to finish threading your needle. 

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” you hissed. Zoro snorted.

“Yeah, one I don’t have.” You rolled your eyes, tying off the string and bending down to examine the cut again. It wasn’t too wide—maybe five or six stitches at most. You gave Zoro no warning except for the light brush of your fingers against the wound, and he hissed again. 

You glanced up. “Do you want something to bite on?”

“I’m not a toddler,” Zoro sneered. You mouthed his words mockingly, though you didn’t actually speak them, not wanting him to catch you doing such an immature action. You fixed your gaze back on the wound, free hand resting flat against Zoro’s abdomen to steady you—his skin was warm under your palm, and you expected him to say something, but to your surprise, he didn’t even flinch. 

The first puncture came carefully. Zoro hissed, the sound of a low rumble in his throat as you felt his abdomen clench under your palm. You forced yourself to continue, pulling the thread fully through the skin before moving onto the other side of the wound. You did it again, carefully to keep the string untangled as it ran through Zoro’s flesh. 

“It wasn’t because I was mad at you,” Zoro said abruptly, and you paused, glancing up to look at Zoro’s face. His eyes were still closed, brows contorted tight and mouth bared down into a grimace. “Don’t stop. I wasn’t avoiding you because I was angry. Or because of anything you did.” 

“Why, then?” you asked, lowering your head to continue with your stitches. Zoro took in a sharp breath at the next one, the edges of a scream cutting into his breath but not fully escaping from his throat. You were rubbing a comforting circle into his stomach before you could stop yourself—muscle memory from patching up your dad’s wounds. You swallowed hard, but didn’t stop the motions—Zoro didn’t seem offended by them. 

His voice was raggedy when he spoke again. “Fighting against you. It reminded me of—my friend, from back then. I told you about her.” 

Your lips pursed, but you didn’t stall your actions, running the thread through the hole you’d pricked. “The one you made the promise to?” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, the word falling out all in one breath. You fixed the string tight along the wound, fingers splayed across his stomach warning him for the next puncture. He continued speaking despite it, and your needle hovered over his skin. “We were training together—fuck.” 

“Sorry,” you said again, still running your thread through his skin as he heaved out a long, ragged groan from low in his throat. 

“We were training together,” he repeated. “Haven’t done that in a while with a girl. So it—” His voice tapered off in another breathy groan. “Reminded me of her. I got bitchy.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said. You were getting close to the end of the wound now, but your actions slowed, just to keep him talking—the words came out all harsh and hesitant, and you got the feeling speaking about his past was a laborious task. Might as well let him have the safety of avoiding your eyes like this while he spoke. “Do I look like her or something?” 

Zoro huffed out a laugh. “Ha. No.” 

“Okay,” you said. You pierced his skin again—he took this one better, muscles clenching as he sucked in hard. You waited until you finished the stitch to speak again. “Are you going to keep avoiding me?”

“No,” Zoro said. His words pierced the air, weighed heavy with a gasp of pain and a hiss, but it still rang sharp in your ears. He eased out a breath, long and soft. “It was unfair. Can’t help it sometimes, that’s all.” 

“That’s fine,” you answered carefully. You threaded one last stitch, both of you mute as you tightened the wound closed with the suture and tied it off. You snipped the string with a pocketknife, using another damp towel to clean up any of the excess blood. “I’m going to dress everything with bandages now. Almost done.” 

“Okay,” Zoro said. You reorganized your supplies, tucking away your stitching things to replace with bandages and dressing pads. You washed your hands again, then returned to bend over Zoro’s torso. When you did, you were surprised to see Zoro’s eyes had opened, soft brown irises boring into yours. You swallowed, feeling the burn of his gaze into your skin as you stared at the skin of his midsection. 

“I’ll do the big one first, then everything else,” you said carefully. You worked in silence, pressing a dressing pad along the wound and tying it off with some gauze to fix it in place. You moved around his body, bandaging up any cuts you deemed worthy until you finally were left with Yoru’s cut. 

It stretched the entire expanse of his torso, from shoulder to hip. It’d been well done, the cut deep but not deep enough to kill as long as someone was fast enough with treatment. You recognized the shape of the cut, the very tip of it thin before Yoru’s mouth caught the skin with the center of his blade. “He did it like this on purpose?” Zoro asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s methodical with most things.” You wrapped gauze around the scab, tightening it up and then finally tying it off by his hip. “I’d keep that on for a few days before replacing it. Keep dressing it for another two weeks or so. It’ll probably start swelling soon, so I can help you drain whatever fluid develops.” 

“I’ll let you know,” Zoro said. He was still watching you with those big brown eyes, and a soft shiver traced down your spine. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you for saving me from that pirate earlier,” you said. You surveyed him again, though you were careful not to meet his eyes. A long silence filled the space, heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. You ducked your head, busying yourself with putting away the first aid kit. The words fell from your mouth before you could stop them— “I like your earrings.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. Nothing else. 

You were pretty sure you liked more than the earrings. You liked the way he fought, even if it scared you sometimes—even if you knew one day he’d probably be able to beat your father. You liked his face; those big brown eyes, soulless at times but holding the world in those glistening irises at others. Those freckles, adorned with the entire galaxy, stars and planets and constellations dotting his cheeks like a mural of life. The way he talked, soft-spoken but utterly real, voice low in his throat, words disturbingly honest. 

You didn’t say so, though. You stuck with the earrings, because those were safer.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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© halfvalid 2023

[signoferoda]

WATER BUG - HS

Summary- The styles family have a fun day at the beach where Novie learns how to catch the waves

The sun rose high in the sky, painting the sandy shores of the beach with hues of gold and orange. Novie, at three years old, bounced with excitement, her chubby cheeks flushed with anticipation as she clung to Harry's hand.

"Are we going to the beach, Daddy?" Novie asked, her eyes wide with excitement, she was unable to contain her happiness, jumping up and down, tugging on her father’s hand repeatedly.

Harry chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "That's right, lovie! We're going to have a fun day at the beach!"

With a cooler packed full of snacks, beach toys, and sunscreen in tow, the Styles family made their way down to the shore. They were on their summer break from school so had escaped to Italy for their annual holiday, The salty breeze teased at their hair as they walked, and the sound of crashing waves filled the air with a sense of excitement.

As they reached the water's edge, Novie's eyes widened with wonder at the sight before her. The vast expanse of sand seemed to stretch on forever, meeting the sparkling sea in a perfect line on the horizon. "Wow!" she exclaimed, her tiny voice filled with awe. She was older now, having more understanding of the beach since her last visit.

Theo and Blake, the older brothers, were determined to make Novie's first proper beach day unforgettable. With boogie boards and surfboards in hand, they led Novie down to the water, their laughter mingling with the sound of crashing waves.

"Come on, Novie! Let's catch some waves!" Blake called out, his grin infectious as he waded into the surf. He was 13 years old and definitely the most crazy kid out of the four.

Theo nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, you'll love it!" he added, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. As the oldest at 15, he knew he had a big responsibility of making sure his baby sister was safe but also having the most fun.

However Y/N and Indi, known for their tendency to worry, couldn't shake off their concerns about potential dangers lurking beneath the water's surface. They stayed close, keeping a watchful eye on Novie as she wandered along the shore, her small feet sinking into the sandy ground.

"Be careful, lovebug," Y/N called out, her voice tinged with concern. "Watch out for any jellyfish!"

Indi nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with worry. "And don't swallow too much saltwater, okay? Dad says It's not good for you."

But Novie was too caught up in the excitement of the moment to pay much attention to their warnings. With Theo and Blake by her side, her two protectors, she felt invincible, her laughter ringing out like music in the air as they splashed and played in the waves.

Theo and Blake couldn't contain their excitement as they rode the waves with Novie, their laughter echoing along the shoreline. Novie squealed with delight each time a wave lifted her boogie board, her tiny hands gripping onto the sides as she rode the surf alongside her brothers.

Y/N watched nervously from the shore, her heart fluttering with every splash and wave. "Be careful, Novie! Theo, make sure she doesn’t go too far out” she called out, her voice filled with motherly concern.

Indi, standing beside her, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, be careful please" he added, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.

But Novie was totally in her element, her laughter ringing out like music in the air as she splashed and played with her brothers. With each wave that crashed against the shore, her confidence grew, and soon she was riding the waves like a pro, well as pro as a three year old could be.

While Theo, Blake, and Novie were caught up in the excitement of surfing, Indi found himself drawn to a different aspect of beach life. He stayed close to his parents, content to explore the shoreline at his own pace. Y/n encouraged him to collect seashells and driftwood, marveling at the intricate patterns and shapes they discovered along the shore.

"Look at this one, Mum!" Indi exclaimed, holding up a particularly beautiful conch shell for her inspection. "Isn't it so cool?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride at her son's curiosity. "It's beautiful, Indi," she replied, her voice filled with warmth.

Harry, sensing Indi's interest, knelt down beside him, his gaze following the line of the horizon as he listened to the rhythmic sound of the waves. "Did you know that each shell has its own story to tell?" he asked, his voice soft and contemplative.

Indi shook his head, his eyes widening with curiosity. "Really? What kind of stories?"

Harry grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners with fondness. "There are so many stories," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "Some shells have traveled long distances across the ocean, while others have been home to tiny creatures for years."

Indi listened intently as Harry shared stories of the sea, his imagination soaring as he imagined the adventures behind each shell.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun beat down relentlessly overhead, casting a warm glow over the beach. Harry watched with pride as Novie rode the waves, her smile lighting up the entire shoreline and as his youngest son collected different shells for each of his siblings.

But as the sun reached its peak, Harry noticed that Novie's cheeks were starting to flush with heat, and her movements were becoming sluggish. Concern gnawed at his heart as he approached her in the water.

"Hey there, little surfer," Harry said, his voice gentle as he lifted Novie out of the water and onto the shore. "I think it's time for a little break, don't you?"

Novie nodded sleepily, her eyelids drooping with exhaustion as she nestled into Harry's arms. "Nap time," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy. She normally had naps earlier on in the day, but y/n let her play, they were on holiday after all.

With Novie cradled in his arms, Harry made his way back to where the rest of the family had set up camp beneath the shade of an umbrella. Y/N rushed forward to meet them, her eyes filled with concern.

"Is she okay?" Y/N asked, her voice tinged with worry as she brushed a gentle hand against Novie's forehead.

Harry nodded, his expression reassuring. "She's just a little tired and overheated," he explained. "Think a nap in the shade will do her good."

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension melt away from her shoulders. "Thank goodness," she whispered, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on Novie's forehead.

Indi, sensing his mother's relief, let out a sighs of his own. "I'm glad she's okay," Indi said, his voice soft with relief.

Theo nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with brotherly concern. They had followed their dad up to the shade. "Yeah, me too. We'll have to be more careful next time," he added, shooting a meaningful glance at Blake.

Blake's smile faltered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "My bad, guys. I guess I got a bit too excited," he admitted, a touch of remorse in his voice.

But Harry shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No harm done," he said, his voice warm with affection. "We're just glad Novie's okay. You have to remember that she’s just a baby bud, she gets tired quicker." Harry spoke, earning a nod from his son.

Harry tucked Novie into a cozy beach towel under the shade of the umbrella, and took a seat with her, gently rocking her to sleep. Y/N nestled close, her arm around Novie, and Indi, Blake and Theo joined them, taking some drinks out the cooler, winding down from a long day.

"I still can't believe she rode those waves," Blake said, his voice filled with admiration as he glanced at Novie sleeping peacefully. "She's fearless."

Theo nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on his little sister with a mixture of pride and protectiveness. "Yeah, she's something else," he said, a hint of awe in his voice.

“She’s our water bug” Indi smiled, moving to grab Novies small hand in his own. The image making Harry and y/n audibly awe and flash a quick picture of them.

Eventually, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned shades of pink and purple, Harry felt Novie stir in his arms. She blinked sleepily, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists before snuggling closer to her dad.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Did you have a good nap?"

Novie nodded, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Mm-hmm," she murmured, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from Novie's face. "You did so well today, lovie," she said, her voice soft with love. "We're so proud of you."

Novie beamed, her eyes shining with happiness as she snuggled closer to her family. It was the best beach day.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 20

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: y/n & draco, character death, violence, general heavy themes, fluff, y/n & hermione are endgame , events follow canon (in theory)

Note: here it is.. the final chapter ! (technically it's not over yet since we still have the epilogue, which i will try my best to get out within the next week, fingers crossed)

i also want to thank you guys so much for being here. whether you just found this fic recently or you've been here since the beginning, i hope you know i appreciate your support so much. it's the reason we even got to this point! i'm truly going to miss writing this story, more than you know. especially considering it has been apart of my life for over a year now, which is crazy! but anyway, love you guys, i hope you enjoy this one :)

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Hours since the Dark Lord and his followers had officially retreated. 

The sun was now steadily taking its position in the sky, illuminating the mortal world. Heedlessly enforcing the illusion that tragedy no longer looms over Hogwarts and all wizard-kind. 

That is, of course, as further as one could possibly get from the truth.

The atmosphere amidst the Great Hall unfailingly reminds everyone of a suffocating reality. It is thick with grief. Cold, dark and devoid of life– much like the dead that lay within it.

Hermione has yet to leave your side since you found a space to sit amongst the rubble. She continues to cling to you like a lifeline. Harry has been gone for hours, and Hermione, with a bit of coaxing, has finally stopped crying.

Ginny however remained hysterical– till her father was forced to subdue her with a Laxo charm. Still its effects wear off too quickly, and Ginny is far too vulnerable to justify repeated use. So her parents have settled with putting her to sleep instead.

She rests her head on Ron’s shoulder, blind and deaf to the destruction around her, even if only for a short while.

“Are you alright?” A foolish question, but Hermione, ever sweet and gentle, doesn't berate you for it. She nods, wordlessly slipping her arm around you before nestling her face into the crook of your neck. 

Hermione desperately seeks an escape through you and there is nothing more you wish to do than to give her just that. You want to be her helm in a sea of catastrophe, as much as she is yours.

Nothing matters anymore, only her. 

As you slip a comforting arm around your girlfriend, you take a scan of the hall, quickly regretting your decision to do so as you divert your eyes away from the row of corpses laid across the floor. 

It is then you spot a familiar face that causes your stomach twists even more, you are overcome with the sudden urge to wretch.

Draco appears just as pale and miserable as he approaches you. Gingerly taking a seat, cautious not to interrupt your embrace with Hermione. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak.

“I thought you left the castle with the rest of them.” You find yourself muttering, surprising Draco and especially yourself.

Hermione lifts her head, once she realizes you were not speaking to her. 

She takes notice of the platinum haired man next to you, and you feel her tense within your hold. Hermione’s expression visibly hardens, and you recognize that it would be smart to continue putting yourself in between her and Draco for the time being. 

“No, I– I couldn’t. My parents.. they were looking for me, but I– I hid.” Your best friend remarks, he is unable to keep eye contact with you. 

Guilt is ever corrosive, and it was consuming him alive. You see it in the very way Draco carries himself– so far removed from the person he once was.

Much like yourself.

It seems as though Draco is entirely expecting you to push some blame onto him. As if the destruction here today was caused solely by him. Though things are hardly as simple as that– besides, there is little reward in kicking a man when he is already down.

“At least you refused them. I know it isn’t easy.” You state. A feeble attempt to uplift him.

“Doing the right thing rarely ever is.” Hermione chimes in, as she puts her head on your shoulder once more. Her demeanor has softened, and in any regular instance, this might even fill you with joy.

“Does it even matter now? It’s too late.” Draco wallows, and a part of you wants to contend his statement, but that would also mean lying to him.

“And my mother and father– I’ve disappointed them.” He adds and now you let out a humorless chuckle. 

“We have that in common. Mine certainly aren’t going to acknowledge me as their daughter now.” You say, and your best friend almost seems comforted by the notion.

“Mine either.” Hermione quips plainly, her attempt at lighthearted banter only shatters you. 

You turn to place a lingering kiss against her forehead. Hermione accepts it as a faint smile plays on her lips, one reserved only for you.

‘As long as we stay together it'll be fine.’ You remind yourself for the dozenth time.

Draco sighs.

“There was no point to any of this.. it's all gone to shit.” He utters, exasperated, and Hermione nods in agreement.

Another chuckle slips out of you, this time from true amusement. Possibly from exhaustion or simply just a reaction to the ludicrous position you have all found yourselves in. You are sitting in what was once the Great Hall; the safest and warmest place in all of Hogwarts is now reduced to nothing but dust, piles of stone and death. 

You ought to be studying for your end of year exams, yet instead, you have been battling Death Eaters. 

People you considered friends have attempted to harm you more than once, and now it is not even certain if you would survive long enough to see nightfall.

Despite herself, Hermione begins to laugh with you. Draco only scoffs at this, he averts his gaze but you manage to catch the smile threatening to form on his face.

The moment does not last much longer as a noise in the distance abruptly steals your attention. The air in Hogwarts is no longer desolate, it has been awoken once more, and you quickly find out why.

Neville is first to rise off the floor, swiftly walking out into the courtyard. Students and teachers, reluctant but curious, follow suit. 

You leave Draco behind as you move through the crowd, Hermione quickly falls in next to you and Ron settles a few paces behind. 

Your worst fear is realized. 

They have returned, to finish what they started. 

A large army of Death Eaters approaches Hogwarts, the Dark Lord leads them at the front of the brigade. As they get closer, you notice Hagrid towering over the rest, he walks with something large in his arms.

Your face falls in horror once you make out exactly what it was he was carrying. Harry Potter, limp and lifeless. 

Hagrid held him as though he weighed no more than a feather. It is a devastating sight, but you can’t seem to look away. 

You feel the sudden urge to pinch yourself, to force yourself awake.

You are trapped in a grim nightmare, Harry cannot be dead. 

“No.” Ron utters your thoughts out loud.

Hermione is reduced to soft sobs as she turns away in distress, you feel compelled to pull her in for an embrace once more.

“Who is that, Hagrid’s carrying?” Ginny’s voice echoes through the courtyard. She is awake, only to be struck in the face with atrocity.

“Neville, who is that?” She calls, much louder and desperate.

“Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord responds to her question with glee.

“No– no!” Ginny cries, but she is quickly silenced with a wave of Voldermort’s hand, he forces her to the ground.

“Silence! You stupid girl.” He bellows as Arthur frantically helps his daughter back on her feet, dragging her as far from the enemy as possible.

“Harry Potter is dead, from this day forth, you put your faith in me.” Voldermort claims and he is only met with a stunned silence.

"Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord declares again in celebration turning to his followers. He laughs, maniacal and bone chilling. Death eaters soon join in, a roar of erroneous joy.

Blind rage gives Hermione the strength to finally look upon Voldermort, you release her from your grip, but maintain close proximity.

“And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us, or die.” Voldermort states, his arms outstretched– a forced gesture of welcome.

Once again, you can all only afford to stare at him in disbelief.

“Draco!” Lucius calls for his son angrily, and you only realize then that you’ve entirely lost sight of your best friend.

The crowd parts slightly, and you finally spot him at the other side of the courtyard, standing amongst Seamus, George and Dean.

“Draco.” Narcissa coaxes her son in a far gentler manner, but the distress and worry within her gaze is plain for you to see.

Draco stares at his parents for a prolonged moment and then turns to look towards you. Your breath hitches in your throat, the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he means to share the burden with you.

You manage to shake your head at him, signifying disapproval, but it seems he was not looking for advice, it was merely a look of remorse. He was just apologizing for something he was about to do.

Your shoulders slump in disappointment when Draco tears his gaze away from your own, he limps towards his parents, slowly, as if in a trance. 

“Well done, Draco, well done.” The Dark Lord embraces him stiffly for all to see, your jaw tightens when his stare lands on you.

Any fear you felt in that moment has been overshadowed by plain hot resentment.

“Y/n!” Your own father calls for you the same way, you can still feel the weight of everyone’s stare upon you as you refuse to budge.

“Y/n, come here, now.” Your mother warns, but it does nothing to convince you, if anything it has the opposite effect.

You feel Hermione’s hand slip into your own, motivating a streak of confidence.

“I am fine right where I am, mother.” You remark plainly, and you catch the way Voldermort clenches his pale gray hand into a fist for an instant before composing himself.

“Well, I must admit, y/n, I am very disappointed in you. I have no doubt your parents feel the same.” He states, and it works to gain a rise out of you.

However before you can retaliate with something reckless, Voldermort raises his wand to point it at you. “Crucio.”

The next thing you recall is the ground coming up to meet you, and trying to break your fall. A blinding pain that travels from your arm to the rest of your body.

Hermione is crouched over you as you continue to seize on the ground in sheer agony. 

“Stop it! Please, stop!” Your girlfriend's pleas fall on deaf ears.

You faintly hear Voldermort’s mocking laughter amidst your own gripes of pain. Certain you are about to faint, you clench your eyes tightly, but then, it all stops. 

Air violently floods your lungs, you feel the ground again, this time you recognize that you are laying firmly on top of it. You feel Hermione’s desperate hands clutching your body.

The Dark Lord looks upon horrified faces– he is using you as a warning. “I will say it again. Join us, else you will suffer a worse fate that y/n. So I invite you to step forward now.”

Hermione begins to help you back on your feet, but not before kissing your temple. She smoothes out your disheveled hair, a frantic effort to soothe you, or perhaps herself.

“Please tell me you're alright.” She pleads, an anguished whisper. You ignore the sharp pain still pulsating throughout your body to give Hermione some peace of mind.

“I am, I'll be fine.” You reply, taking her arm to resume your place.

Neville slips past you then, this sudden gesture is followed by a wave of gasps. 

You observed as he limped through the crowd and towards Voldermort, your brows furrowed in confusion.

Not Neville. Not him of all people. 

“I must say, I hoped for better.” Voldermort hurls the jibe, brusque and overconfident. The roar of laughter that comes from his followers only causes your scowl to deepen, it is a jarring noise, deeply unsettling.

“And who might you be, young man?” The Dark Lord asks, feigned geniality.

“Neville Longbottom.” Neville admits only for the laughter to come again. 

You shift your weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Hermione mistakes it for a sign you may collapse again so she moves closer, allowing you to lean on her; this only makes you want to weep. 

This isn't right. It was never supposed to happen like this.

“Well, Neville I am sure we can find you a place in our ranks–”

“–I'd like to say something!” Neville's voice bullies over Voldermort’s.

From the looks of it, this would nearly cost him his life, as Voldermort lifts his wand, almost like a reflex but he lowers it just as quickly.

With an air of composure, he responds, but his pretense is waning.

“Well, Neville, I am sure we are all fascinated to hear what you have to say.” Voldermort’s smile only makes him appear even more displeasing to the eye.

“It doesn't matter that Harry's gone.” Neville announces, and you instinctively look to the man in Hagrid’s arms.

This can't be the end.

Only half a heartbeat until you avert your gaze again.

“Stand down, Neville!” Seamus possesses enough gumption to warn his friend, but Neville brushes him off.

“People die everyday!” He insists.

“Friends, family..” Neville trails off.

Again, you feel compelled to keep Hermione close as you notice the way she has been pursing her lips to fight back more tears.

Ron can't seem to pull his eyes away from Hagrid, and his dead best friend.

“Yeah, we lost Harry tonight, but he's still with us, in here.” Neville continues, gesturing loosely to his chest, just above where his heart is.“So is Fred, Remus, and Tonks, all of them.”

“They didn't die in vain!” Neville shouts with a newfound confidence.

“But you will, because you're wrong!”

He challenges the Dark Lord, bold and open, and it makes you wince.

“Harry's heart did beat for us, for all of us!” He continues.

“So it's not over!” Neville exclaims, and the old hat he had been holding droops to the floor. Within it is revealed an unmistakable relic: the sword of Gryffindor.

He unsheathes the steel for all to see.

Then just as suddenly, the unthinkable happens. 

Harry slips out of Hagrid's hold, his body collapses to the ground, but he is not dead, he braces his hands on the ground before rising.

Harry Potter, alive.

“Merlin's beard..” You gape, and Hermione grasps your shoulder, then she laughs, shock and pure relief.

Harry sprints past the Dark Lord, quick, like a cat. He attempts to fish out Draco’s wand from his pocket but it slides past his fingers.

Harry isn't given the opportunity to retrieve it as he is forced to dodge the mania of curses being hurled his way. 

There is only chaos in the courtyard now as Death Eaters begin to disapparate by the dozen, abandoning their leader. 

Everyone else, desperately seeking shelter, out of the courtyard, back into the castle or elsewhere, anywhere away from harm. 

“Come on, we have to go.” Hermione drags you with her, but you turn back for a moment to watch as Draco bravely pushes past the chaos, picking up his wand, unbelievably, he tosses it back to Harry. 

“Potter!” Your best friend shouts just before you lose sight of him in the crowd. Although Harry catches the wand just in time.

“Confringo!” The Chosen One exclaims, Nagini writhes violently as the curse injures her.

The snake. You have to kill the snake.

Harry shares the sentiment as you get to the castle's doors, he falls in next to you, Ron and Hermione. “We need to kill the snake, I'll lure him into the castle.”

You merely nod in response, Harry continues to deflect the curses being hurled at the four of you.

“You'll need this.” Hermione says, retrieving the Basilisk fang from her bag.

The Dark Lord is rapidly inching closer now, fury has become him– yet he has never seemed so meek, utterly powerless.

He is losing, if he has not lost already.

Nagini is all he has left.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You anticipate it, but Hermione shoves you out of the way just in time as a mass of rubble comes crashing down from above.

You stumble, before coughing out a lung full of dust, squinting as it obstructs your vision. Hermione’s grip on your arm is the only thing tethering you to the present.

Harry bumps into you, just as disoriented. He has lost sight of Ron and worst of all, he can't see Voldermort. 

Another large crash causes you all to flinch, it didn't take long at all for the Dark Lord to find you once again.

Harry throws another curse, powerful enough that he loses his balance, the Basilisk fang unluckily slips out of his pocket, bouncing off the stairs and to the flat ground in front of you.

You reach for it, but before you can retrieve the object, the tooth disintegrates right before your eyes. 

“What–” You aren't given the chance to despair as Harry reminds you of an alternative.

“I’ll keep distracting him. Find Neville, he has the sword. Kill that snake.” He states, the sound of curses violently clashing masks his words, the Dark Lord remains oblivious to your plan, for now.

 “Let's try the Great Hall.” Hermione suggests.

“If we can even get there.” You quip, actively trying to work out a way through the rubble.

You follow after Hermione, and soon, Harry disappears through the thick wall of smoke and dust, purposefully luring Voldermort towards the Astronomy Tower.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Here, this way.” Hermione says as she steps through an opening and further down a flight of stairs.

Just when you both think you are out of danger, a noise stops you dead in your tracks.

You spot the large snake coiling around the bannister before slithering across a pile of bricks towards you.

Its hiss sends a shiver down your spine as you reach for your wand.

Hermione on the other hand, acts on pure instinct. Grabbing a piece of stone, she aims it at the snake.

It successfully clips Nagini on the side of her head, but this only succeeds in agitating the beast.

“Oh.” Hermione utters as the snake recoils, ready to attack.

You both lift your wands in preparation but the snake is hit again, this time by a larger curse that disorients it.

“Go on, I'm right behind you.” Ron emerges, 

pushing the both of you to continue on your search for the sword.

You only manage to get to the bottom of the stairs before Ron can be heard groaning in pain.

The snake had managed to trap him in its grasp, it was coiled around his body, an unsettling sight as it attempted to strangle the life out of him.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaims, chasing back up the stairs without a moment's thought.

“Stupefy!” She exclaimed, and the snake loosens its grip on Ron just enough for him to wretch free.

Hermione drags him to his feet and you can only watch in horror as the snake attempts to come at the both of them now.

“Incendio!” She tries again but the fire fizzles out as soon as it touches the beast, as if the snake was made of ice.

It is your turn to sprint up the stairs but the snake whips its head around, baring its fangs at you as warning. You halt abruptly, forced to keep a distance, grasping your wand tightly. 

Hermione shares a pleading look.

It is useless. There are three of you against Nagini, and yet you were helpless without the sword.

This is not going to work. The snake won't die. Distracting it will only mean seriously harming or even killing one of you.

Your mind reels, you frantically scan your surroundings, looking for a solution. 

Then, you are graced with a miracle. Neville appears behind you, barrelling up the stairs, panting, his face caked in dirt and dried blood. He has the sword of Gryffindor in hand.

Hermione let's out another scream that snatches your attention, the snake has attempted to come at them again, and again, Ron has now resulted in shielding your girlfriend with his own body.

You have to kill it now.

As you take another step, Nagini shifts her point of attack, now preparing to lunge towards you.

“Y/n– here!” With only seconds to spare, Neville tosses the steel in your direction. You quickly drop your wand before you manage to catch the sword by the hilt, still unaccustomed to its weight, you grasp it with two hands.

Just like handling a beater's bat, you swing it, firm and hard, slicing the beast across its body mid-air.

There is no blood, instead the snake explodes into a rain of thin black ash, it is unlike anything you have ever seen before. It is all you can look at as you let the point of the sword fall by your feet.

For a while all you can hear is the clang of metal hitting the ground and a faint ringing in your ears, muffled by the sound of your own heavy breathing. 

Neville's touch on your shoulder snaps you out of a trance. “It's over, it's done.” 

Enough sense returns to you as you shift your gaze towards Hermione. Her expression mirrors your own.

The four of you are miraculously alive, and the snake is dead.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

In the aftermath, it did not take much convincing for you to agree to join Hermione, Harry and Ron for a walk along the bridge.

Thankful for fresh air, the afternoon sun was also a welcomed feeling upon your skin, for the first time in days, it felt like you could breathe.

As Hermione struts ahead, you manage to grab ahold of her arm, forcibly tugging her closer to your own body. 

She then lets out a noise in surprise once you capture her lips with your own, but she melts into the kiss just as quickly, your hand slips to the small of her back as she opens her mouth wider to welcome your tongue.

You continue like that without care for a while, until Ron deliberately interrupts your moment by verbalizing his thoughts.

“Bloody hell, give it a rest, you two.” He remarks, but his tone lacks its usual malice as he clears a path by kicking away pieces of rubble. 

You grimace as you feel Hermione pull away from embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Weasley.” You retaliate, and for reasons unbeknownst to you, the sound of Ron's laughter makes you smile.

You part Hermione’s hair away from her neck, tilting your head slightly to leave a trail of open mouthed kisses along her neck.

She smells like sweat– but, in truth, it has never been an unpleasant scent to you. Nothing about Hermione was ever unpleasant.

Even now, sleep deprived and unwashed, she was perfect.

You notice the way Hermione trembles at the sensation of your warm mouth upon her flesh.

It only works to entice you further, but before you can kiss her again, Hermione displays some semblance of self control. 

She braces her hands on your chest, shoving you lightly. “Not here.”

With a pout you meet her gaze and she only rolls her eyes at that, before rewarding you with a quick peck on the lips. 

“We both could use a bath later.” Hermione mutters suggestively, running her fingers through your hair.

A smirk tugs on your lips at that, but before you can retort with something clever, Hermione's gaze shifts to Harry.

The Chosen One stood at the edge of the bridge, where there was once a bannister, now just a stump of concrete and marble.

Harry is observing the wand in his hand as Hermione addresses him. “How come it didn't work for him, The Elder Wand?”

“It answered to somebody else.” Harry replies, turning to look at the three of you.

“When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. but the thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape.”

“It was Draco, who disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, from that moment on, the wand answered him.” Harry explains, looking down to inspect it once more.

“Until, the other night, when I disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor.” He continues and your eyes widen at the realization.

“So that means–” You gape, and Hermione turns to you in disbelief.

Harry nods. “It's mine.” He states, nonchalant as ever.

“What should we do with it?” Ron inquires, and Hermione merely grimaces.

“We?” She scolds.

“Ron's right, I mean, that's the Elder Wand. Most powerful in the world, with that, you'd be invisible.” You remark in support, now Hermione directs her scowl towards you, and you shrug innocently.

Although your expression twists once your gaze flits to Harry once again, he grunts as he struggles to break the wood in half.

You advanced forward to intervene, but it was too late. The wand snaps in two, like a twig. 

Harry turns around, chucking pieces of the most powerful wand in existence off the edge of the bridge.

You chase after it as far as your eyes can see before it disappears, forever.

“What the fuck–” Ron mutters under his breath in shared disbelief, yet Hermione only watches the both of you with amusement.

Then she grabs you by the collar, dragging you away from the ledge.

You are forced to follow as she falls in next to Harry, strolling back to the castle. 

Resisting the urge to confront Harry about what he had just done, you drape an arm across Hermione's shoulder, she welcomes it, intertwining your hands as you walked.

“I'm starving.” Ron remarks, trailing behind you. An effort to shift to a different, much simpler topic of conversation. 

“So am I.” Hermione replies.

“Yeah.. reckon The Three Broomsticks are still open?” You joke, and Harry is first to laugh, followed by your girlfriend and eventually, Ron.

You allow yourself a smile, it is one of relief. You relish in a careless joy you once thought you'd never get to experience again.

[writingstoraes]

sparks 🎇

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine (fluff)

word count: 1.7k, no warnings hehe

notes: once again this is a new idea even though i have a ton of drafts like my mind is a mess so i am not surprised ANYWAY . trying to get out of a writing slump so lmk what u guys think! ALSO apologies for any typos or grammatical errors this is not proofread at all 😆

about:  The few of the many times Charles’ heart skipped a beat because of you.

Movies have always portrayed “real” sparks so well. Sometimes it’s a scene where a guy sees the girl for the very first time during a first date and he freezes for a moment, the apparent electricity between two people when their hands almost touch and they panic for a little while, or the moment of suspense before a first kiss and the exhilaration after.

But Charles taught that was exactly what they were - movie scenes. He lingered on the thought that the moments where sparks flew and one’s heart skips a beat, those moments cannot be manufactured in real life. They stay in movies, books, in the arts; where they belong, somewhere where they were fiction.

Not until he experiences it first-hand, not until he meets you, the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand.

He felt it the first time your hands ever touched. 

At first, he thought he was going crazy. There was no way he felt a current run through his skin the moment it came in contact with yours, but to this day, it’s a testament he swears on very seriously. 

You had been going out for a few weeks, several dates here and there. It was the exact point where you felt comfortable with each other, but only starting to be, hence why there were still evident boundaries present. The two of you were careful to not cross any, especially Charles. He’s cautious on establishing any physical touch, sure, he’s held your waist to guide you through bustling crowds and had slung his arm over your shoulder, but he hasn’t held your hand. At least, not yet. 

He had invited you to have dinner on his yacht, set at the perfect time where you can be of witness to the beautiful sunset over the sea. He says the food was nearly done, so he set up two comfortable chairs that gave you just the perfect view of the Monaco skies. The sun was setting and the golden sky formed a beautiful gradient with the blue hue that painted it beforehand. 

He turns his head to you, your arm resting on the chair’s handles, a tad bit preoccupied with the view in front of you. He keeps a smile to himself, enjoying the personalized view he had. For some reason, he feels the urge to hold your hand, or at least rest his on top of yours. He was hesitating and second-guessing, lifting his finger once in a while and then putting it back down when he decides not to push through. It didn’t help that there were minimal distance between your chair and his, and so he was fighting the urge to initiate contact and have you flee off. 

But his hesitant hand that kept on moving was something you grew to notice, and thanks to your knowledge of many, many romance movies, you assumed it meant he wanted to hold your hand but was too afraid to do it. You shove the thought of doing it first in the back of your head, overthinking that you might be wrong and he in fact did not want to hold your hand. 

Maybe it was something in the air, the quiet waves of the ocean, or just the fact that he really really liked you. 

He finally lifts his hand so he can reach yours, resting it softly on top of your hand. He lets out a relieved and contented sigh when he feels you ease into his touch. His heart raced faster, like it was screaming for help and begging to be let out of his chest.

As if that was not enough, he feels a current run through his arm and out of his fingertips the moment you grasp his hand and decide to interlock your fingers with his then setting it on top of the chair’s handle.  He swears he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and his heart finally exploded out of his chest. He vows he can stand up and jump around out of joy, but he chooses to indulge in the moment and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze instead.

He had met you earlier in the season and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to see him in his element, doing what truly made him happy. That is, if his team does not proceed to ruin the entire weekend for him and his dedicated fans.

He invited you to watch a grand prix, in a track that he felt most comfortable. He was the perfect gentleman whe he extended the invite, letting you know you could always decline if you didn’t feel like going. You were together, in all terms to be considered, but he didn’t want to pressure you into finally making your appearance only because he knew how harsh it could get. He assures you that he will take care of everything and all you needed to do was come.

You were committed to attend the entire weekend, from free practice until the race itself. Even if Charles was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to be there for everything, you only return a smile and tell him you wanted to be, which not surprisingly calmed his nerves. 

You knew people were going to stare, fans will take pictures, even the possibility of you making headlines. This was your first paddock appearance as his girlfriend, after all. It was inevitable, so you try to take your mind off of the pressure. Much to your nerves bothering you before you even got on the plane, you had been racking your brain on what to wear. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard or too little. 

You finally settle on an outfit and your lips form a small smile as you looked in the mirror. It was nothing extravagant, only a black one-shoulder top and a black high-waisted pants that you paired with a red leather jacket. It’s not like you wanted what you wore to scream Ferrari, but you wanted to add a little touch, at least for Charles. 

“What do you think? I chose the red jacket for you,” you turn around to see Charles, seeing as you heard his footsteps earlier and knew he entered the room.

If he was being honest, he had seen you put on the outfit. He witnessed how you cocked your head to the side trying to see if it looks good. He sees the outfits laid on the bed, all with a touch of red, and he could feel butterflies swarm his stomach at the thought of you carefully planning out your outfits to include his team’s colors.

There it was again, the stupid sparks that he’s been getting ever since he met you. He curses himself for being a little non-functional when feels them, but he figures he has to get used to being blown away by everything you did. It feels magnetic, like he’s feeling actual static. You make him feel so much by just doing so little. 

He sees you twirling around in front of the mirror, smiling when you finally put on the red leather jacket, looking satisfied. 

He stops at his tracks, at least internally, and fails to respond for at least 10 seconds. 

“Do you not like it? I can always go change-”

“No,” he says, almost out of voice. “You look absolutely beautiful.” 

Where he was standing, he swears he sees fireworks erupt behind you.

Charles stands on the podium, feeling victorious and ecstatic he had clinched another win for his Formula 1 career. He looks fondly at the sea of crowd cheering for him, waving flags of his own country, Ferrari, and Italy. From where he stood he could see Fred’s big smile and the engineers celebrating, jumping up and down. 

The trophies had been awarded and the Monaco national anthem had finally played. He was wearing his Pirelli cap and completely drenched in champagne. He scans the crowd down the podium, hoping to get a glance of you. Earlier, he did tell you you didn’t have to witness the awarding personally should he win, because he didn’t want you to get in between many people and possibly get shoved or pushed. He assumes that you were in the garage, waiting for him, probably with a kiss and a hug. 

He leans over the makeshift railing of the stage, eyes still set on possibly sighting you. When he fails to find you, he finally comes down and there he sees you, just near the stairs going up to the podium with teary eyes and a wide smile. There you stood with hands clasped together, in awe of Charles who was standing in front of you. 

He feels his heart race yet again, having experienced the first time you ever greeted him after he claims P1 in a race. Even just by looking at you he feels his world shift, like its only goal was to pull him towards you, like the fireworks that took the skies earlier weren’t enough and he was having his own show. 

He jogs towards you, exhilirated and filled with adrenaline and pulls you into a tight embrace. His entire body twitches when you plant a soft kiss on his cheek, as if every fiber of his being had turned into putty at your touch. Everytime you engulf him in an embrace, kiss his cheek, or run your hands through his hair, he feels as if he’s inside his car going at least 320 kilometers per hour. He has no clue how you do it, how you possibly make him feel like he’s won a race every time he was with you;  as if you and his heart had a binding agreement. 

“Congratulations, mon champion du monde,” you say slowly and close to Charles so only he could hear, hoping you didn’t mess up the pronunciation, after having practiced it several times on the plane. 

Something tugs at his heartstrings, having been greeted by the knowledge that you sent out his well wishes in French, even though you didn’t speak the language and mentioned you were always scared you were going to say something wrong. But mostly because you called him your world champion, and that just sends him down a spiral.

“Thanks for being here, amour.” he replies, pulling you in again for another hug. 

------------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: thanks for reading everyone <3 will try to post a 1.4k special soon but firstly thank u so much for all the love hehehe hope u guys r having the nicest day!

[starrylothcat]

Craving

Summary: Hunter sees you in a dress and doesn’t know how long he can wait to get his hands on you.

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. 18+. Smut, PiV, cunnilingus. Established relationship. Hunter being horny.

Word Count: 3500

Author’s Note: Wow this took me way longer than anticipated to finish! This is a spiritual successor to my Crosshair fic Handful. There was a dear anon who requested this (awhile ago, I’m sorry it took me awhile haha).

Please enjoy Hunter being horny over reader in a dress. Once again, this takes place on Pabu where everyone is happy. It’s what they all deserve, dammit! Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy. 💛

Hunter was suffering. He was absolutely, positively suffering.

His grip on the supply container was faltering, his eyes transfixed on you at the end of the dock.

Hunter was supposed to be helping Wrecker haul supplies from the dock to where the festival was being set up, but he hadn't made much progress, or any at all.

You were wearing a new dress, one that immediately resulted in all of Hunter’s senses going haywire when he saw you in it earlier in the day.

You had emerged from the bedroom adorned in the lightweight sundress, rushing out the door with Omega to meet Phee at the docks to help with setup.

You had volunteered to help Phee and Shep put on a cultural festival, taking on most of the organizational tasks, so you’ve been busy the last week with last-minute setup duties.

Games, food, performances, it was going to have all the works. You wanted it to be perfect for everyone, and today was the day.

You kissed him quickly on the lips, saying you’d see him later.

Before he could even respond or compliment the new clothing, you and Omega were gone.

Hunter was left with the image of your backside jiggling under the flimsy, short dress as you shut the front door of your shared bungalow behind you.

Your shoulders and neck were completely exposed, thighs on full display. Thighs that he already knew were going to be wrapped around his head later that evening.

How you looked in that split-second has been replaying in his brain all day, waiting for the moment he can get you alone, thinking of all the delicious cries he’ll pull from your plump lips as he pleasures you beyond comprehension.

He needed to feel you under his hands and see how much more of you he can get to jiggle under that dress. Hunter needed to trace your curves and peel back the thin material inch by inch, tasting and worshiping every centimeter of your body.

“Hunter, ya need help?” Wrecker stepped in front of him, blocking Hunter’s view of you, interrupting his fantasy.

Hunter blinked, coming back to reality.

Wrecker had easily hauled his share of supplies and Hunter’s pile was almost untouched.

“Oh yeah, sorry. I’m just a bit distracted today.” Hunter huffed as he lifted the crate fully. Wrecker grabbed a few more, precariously balancing them in his arms.

“Heh, I’m excited about the festival, too!” Wrecker smiled, assuming Hunter was distracted for other reasons.

“Everyone has been working hard to make it happen. I heard there’s going to be LOTS of good food!” Hunter nodded, half-listening while watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You were inspecting a crate of unfamiliar-looking fruits, making sure they were acceptable to sell at the festival.

A slight breeze coming off the sea was rustling your dress, lifting the hem and exposing more of your thighs, giving Hunter another view that made his body burn under the already hot sun.

Hunter swallowed thickly, feeling sweaty as he walked with Wrecker, thinking he might not be able to wait until after the festival to have his way with you.

The sun was setting over the calm ocean, a full moon peeking out from behind clouds, stars blinking into existence as the sky turned a deep purple.

The festival was in full swing, laugher, music, and mouth-watering scents hanging in the air. Hunter barely had a chance to talk to you all day, since you were busy making sure the festival was going according to plan.

As he walked through the crowd, he spotted Crosshair with Omega at one of the game booths, while Wrecker was chatting up one of the food vendors.

Tech was with Phee, trying to explain in excruciating detail the significance of a cultural dance that was being performed.

Echo was sharing wine with a local artist, admiring their paintings, though his eyes were mostly admiring the artist.

Hunter smiled to himself, pleased to see his family just be…happy.

Comfortable.

Ordinary.

Hunter never imagined himself settling down anywhere with anyone. Yet here he was, with you, the love of his life, and Omega, who now has stability and can be the child she deserved to be.

Ever since you all decided to settle on Pabu, you immersed yourself with the people of the island, often helping Phee in the museum, cataloging artifacts, and helping newcomers settle into their new lives.

Hunter was proud of you, seeing how much work and energy you put into making this festival happen and knew how much it meant to you for it to be successful.

Hunter was scanning the crowd, trying to find you. You were still busy, running around and making sure all the festival-goers were satisfied.

You needed to remember to enjoy yourself, too, and Hunter was going to make sure of that.

Hunter grabbed two cups of wine, finally finding you in the crowd.

You were speaking with some musicians who were about to begin their performance, making sure they started on time to ensure the performers after them stayed on schedule.

Hunter couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful you looked in the setting sun, his heart swelling at how lucky he was to have you. Something else began to swell in his pants, watching your hips sway under the silky looking dress material. You were still wearing the dress from earlier, his fantasy not forgotten.

You heard your name, turned, and saw Hunter walk toward you, holding the wine.

You excused yourself from the musicians, realizing you hadn’t seen him all day. You felt a little guilty, smiling as he approached you.

“Everything going okay, mesh’la?”

You nodded, taking the wine you realized you needed.

“Yes, even though I just had to tell Crosshair to cool it on the ring-tossing game. You won’t believe how many stuffed tookas Omega has now…”

Hunter chuckled as he kissed your temple, his arm coming around your lower back, bringing you in close.

“Everyone is having a good time…do you have time to take a break? I’ve missed you today.”

You let out a soft sigh. “I know…you know how I can get. I just wanted tonight to go perfectly for everyone.”

You sipped the sweet wine, watching Hunter’s eyes darken as he pulled away, his eyes roaming your form.

“It is, I promise. You should be proud of yourself for organizing this. I’m proud of you.”

You smiled at his words, feeling his hand ghost across the top of your ass. “Thank you, Hunter. I feel like I owe it to the people here for accepting us so quickly.” Hunter nodded in agreement, still subtly feeling up your ass.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to watch the performance, but I think you have something else on your mind.” You raised your eyebrows at him, seeing a familiar glint of need in his eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you how irresistible you look in this dress.” His voice dropped an octave into a smokey whisper as his lips brushed over your earlobe. “I’d love to show you…if you have the time.”

Hunter moved his arm from your waist, running his hand down your side, lightly pinching at your hip, feeling the fabric between his fingertips.

Kriff, it was softer than he imagined. Hunter’s hungry eyes met yours, and you knew what he was thinking.

You sipped your wine, a coy smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you. I was hoping you’d like it. I think I do have time for a break.”

You traced your hand over his chest, throwing him a devilish look. Hunter took that as a yes, quickly taking the wine from you and setting both your cups down.

He took your arm, leading you through the crowd until you were on the outskirts of the activities. You quickly walked down an empty corridor, the sounds of the celebration fading.

Mesh’la…” He growled in your ear as he led you down an empty alleyway, smelling the wine on his breath.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer…to show you how good you look.” His dexterous fingers slid up your body, the flimsy material of the dress exciting him, knowing what lays beneath.

You shuddered as he licked your earlobe, gently taking it into his mouth before lightly dragging his canines ran down your neck.

You were trying to stay quiet, but his alluring utterances and touches forced whimpers to leave your lips.

“I need you.” His voice was ragged, breathing in the sweet arousal on your skin, mixing with the salty twilight air.

You grasped his wide shoulders as he nipped and sucked at your skin, feeling his cock harden against your stomach. You let out a whine at the sensation, your own need growing intensely.

“Can you feel what you do to me?” He husked, pulling away and looking directly into your eyes. “Every since I saw you this morning, I’ve been wanting to fuck you in this dress.” You could feel how wet your panties were now, realizing how turned on he was by your outfit.

Hunter’s lips were on yours, vigorous and all-consuming. Your knees buckled at his eager kiss as he slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

“H-Hunter someone could see…” you broke away from his impassioned kiss momentarily, realizing how hot and heavy you were getting in the alleyway. His chest reverberated with a deep laugh.

“Let them see - let them see how lucky I am to have someone like you…” his lips were on you again, this time his large hands slipping over your ass, giving a hearty squeeze that made you squeal.

Hunter’s grip slipped under your thighs, hauling you up and pressing you into the wall. Your arms flew around his neck for purchase, his groin pressing hotly into your center.

“But maybe it’s time to head home, what do you think?” He sucked on your collarbone, kissing up to your bare shoulder, nibbling and sucking as he went. “We have the place to ourselves, let’s make good use of it, hm? I’ve been biding my time to get you alone.”

You nodded, remembering Omega was spending the night with Lyana after the festival.

“I don’t think we’ll be missed, we won’t be gone for too long…” Hunter stopped, waiting for your answer.

You slid your palm down to his crotch, rubbing his painfully hard length through his pants, giving him your answer. “I suppose I can reward you for your patience.” You purred, palming him slowly. “I won’t make you wait any longer.”

The second you got through the front door, Hunter was all over you. His hands roamed, bunching up the fabric of your dress, sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and squeezing your breasts through the dress.

Goosebumps erupted all over your hot skin, even in the tropical Pabu air.

Craving burned hot in your veins, your nails digging into his wavy locks. You tugged lightly, causing him to groan against your mouth, knowing he liked it when you pulled at his hair.

You don’t remember when he removed your panties and bra, or how you got on the bed, but now he was hovering over you, his clothes discarded.

A predatory look flashed in his eyes as he took all of you in beneath him.

The way the dress hugged your features, leaving little to the imagination, set his senses ablaze.

He could see your hard nipples poking through the dress, your delicious curves highlighted almost sinfully as you gazed up at him, the same want in your eyes as was in his.

The feeling of the soft fabric was maddening, greedily grabbing fistfuls of your soft flesh as his hands explored your voluptuous form.

He was still groping as he planted wet, sloppy kisses up to your ear.

“I want to take you in this dress.” Hunter licked at your pulse point, feeling your heart rate increase under his tongue.

“How do you want me?” You gasped, needing more of him by the second.

“I want you on my face.”

His voice was husky, his words thick with feverish cravings that sent lightning bolts of pleasure straight to your core.

“Is that okay?”

You nodded dumbly, your thoughts muddled by passion.

Hunter let out a low grunt of approval as he rolled off you, laying on his back, beckoning you to him. How could you deny him, especially when he looked like this?

His eyes were hooded, his breath labored, some of his curly hair falling haphazardly out of his bandana. Hunter’s control was already unraveling and you’ve barely gotten started.

“I know how wet you are, mesh’la. Let me help you. Let me taste your perfect pussy.”

A shudder ran down your spine as you you crawled over and positioned yourself over his head, hiking up your dress as your thighs surrounded his face. You braced yourself on the headboard, looking down at the man between your legs.

Hunter’s pupils were blown with wild lust as he gazed up at your pussy, his mouth watering with anticipation.

“I don’t want to-I don’t want to hurt you or-“ You whispered, trembling at his breath ghosting over your exposed cunt.

Hunter chuckled, carefully caressing your thighs, his touch gentle. “You could never hurt me. And if this is how I go, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gave your thighs a curt squeeze.

“Now sit on me, please.”

Hunter clutched the soft flesh of your ass, keeping your dress pulled up as he drew you down to his mouth. The second his tongue eagerly lapped at your folds, you let out a high-pitched whimper, your chin falling to your chest. “Hunter…! Oh, stars…”

Hunter began licking and probing, switching between fucking you as deep as he could with his tongue and suckling on your clit. It was almost overwhelming, your airy mewls becoming heavy moans as Hunter devoured you from beneath.

Hunter let out a primal growl as your arousal soaked his face. Your inner thighs were now coated in your slick, your clit swelling with every suck and pass of his tongue.

All your nerves were on fire, heat bubbling in your lower belly, the obscene sounds of Hunter lapping and practically purring beneath you was building your release quickly.

Hunter’s senses were ablaze, his hips instinctually bucking, his cock weeping as his face remained buried underneath you, intensely focused on your pleasure.

Hunter loved feeling the weight and warmth of you on his face, hearing every sweet cry that left your lips, inhaling the scent of your sex. It was almost overwhelmingly perfect. You were perfect.

He was at the core of you, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Hunter’s fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, your dress bunched in his fists as he licked long stripes up and down your swollen lips. He made sure to keep the pressure on your clit, feeling your thigh muscles constrict around his head.

“Hunter…I’m close…don’t stop…” You could barely form a coherent sentence as he continued his feast.

Your thighs were quivering, your dress sticking to your body, and you were letting the most lewd sounds escape your throat, not holding back and letting Hunter know how he was making you feel.

You were gripping the headboard so hard you thought it might crack under your grip.

Burning heat was licking in your loins, a molten coil tightening and threatening to spring loose with every move of Hunter’s tongue, his thick muscle rolling and pressing against your clit.

You glanced down, finding it tough to keep your eyes open, and the look in Hunter’s eyes looking back at you between your legs was what sent you over the edge.

His eyes were blown with lust, black and deep, a carnal determination to feel your release on his tongue and taste every drop.

You threw your head back, his name a chant leaving your lips as you convulsed over him, your muscles spasming up as your orgasm rocked your entire being.

Hunter let out a satisfied groan, keeping you down tight against his face, letting you grind and ride your orgasm against him, not slowing his tongue and lips sucking at your clit. He didn’t want to miss a single drop.

You began to relax, your thighs now jelly, trying to get air back in your lungs. Hunter’s ministrations slowed, and you slid off of him, laying at his side.

“Mesh’la…” Hunter made no move to clean off his face, shining with your juices.

“I’ve been waiting all day for that. You taste incredible. As always.”

You were trying to come back down from the atmosphere, your mind spinning with the intensity of your orgasm, but still needing more.

“Now, how do you want me?”

Hunter asked, sultry as he licked some of your slick off his lips, savoring your taste.

“In your lap. I want to ride your cock.” You knew this was one of his favorite positions since he was able to feel all of you, and it made his heightened senses short-circuit every time.

Hunter didn’t need another second to comply, maneuvering himself to sit against the headboard. “Yes, ma’am.”

His eyes flashed as you sat up, lowering yourself in his lap. “Take my cock. I’m all yours.”

“Do you still want the dress on?” You asked sweetly, sliding your still sensitive pussy against his throbbing cock.

“Yes.” He rubbed his hands on your ass, feeling the soft fabric and your supple flesh underneath, the sensations driving him mad. “Kriff, yes.”

He pressed his face into your neck as you lowered yourself on top, taking in all of him. The stretch was wonderful, finally having him inside you, hearing the hitch in his breathing as he bottomed out.

Hunter grunted, feeling your tight muscle clench around him.

“You look ‘sgood in this dress…feel ‘so good…I love you…” He slurred as you bounced on him, all of the sensations you were giving him building almost too quickly.

You grasped at his shoulders for leverage, moving up and down, feeling every ridge and vein of his thick cock against your walls, your whines and mewls matching his deep groans as you increase your pace.

You knew he wouldn’t last long like this, and didn’t want him to hold back.

Hunter clutched your waist, thrusting up against you to match yours, driving deeper into you.

Your sounds, your smell, he could feel his end building fast.

“I’m not going to last…” He rasped, now licking at your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress, adding to your pleasure. His thrusts up into you became stronger, hitting that magical spot so deep inside you, your eyes rolled back into your head.

Hunter hastily slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders once again, tugging the front down to expose your breasts,needing to feel your pebbled nipples on his tongue.

All you could do was let out breathy gasps, another orgasm building to a breaking point with each snap of his hips and debauched slurp as he sloppily sucked your tits.

“Hunter…I love you…I love the way you make me feel…oh stars…keep going…” Your words faded into gibberish as his mouth teased and tantalized your breasts, his movements becoming erratic.

“Cum for me. I want to hear you, feel you…cum on my cock…please…” Hunter’s voice was guttural, desperate, murmuring between suckling and nipping at your tits with his teeth.

You were delirious at this point, your breasts being ravished by his mouth as he kneaded and groped your thighs and ass, his cock bringing you closer and closer to the glorious edge with every frantic movement of his hips.

“Hunter…you feel so good, make me feel so good…”

“That’s right…you take me so well, you’re beautiful like this…I can feel everything…”

Not only was he feeling his pleasure, he could feel yours too.

Hunter could hear every subtle change in pitch of your moans, feel every muscle twitch in your cunt as you milked him, smell the overpowering scent of your sweat and arousal…he was undone.

Hunter let out a muffled shout against your chest as he came hard, erupting inside you. Hunter wrapped his arms around your torso, tugging you flush against him as he rode out his pleasure.

His cock twitched and swelled inside you as he frantically bucked his hips, filling you to the brim, feeling the warmth spread in your cunt.

Only you were graced with the privilege to see your Sergeant fall apart like this. He was a mess, letting out low moans as his senses amplified every sensation.

Your orgasm followed right after, his cock rubbing your clit in just the right way, still sensitive from before. You cried his name like a prayer of devotion, holding him close as ecstasy blossomed throughout your body. “Hunter…oh Maker…Hunter…!”

Hunter kept his head huddled into your neck, his breath fanning across your chest as he listened to your heartbeat and felt your wet warmth flutter around his softening cock.

Your movements slowed, basking in one another, not quite ready for him to leave you or for you to leave him.

You couldn’t help but let out a tired chuckle as he looked up at you, a small smile on his lips, his face still glistening with your juices from before.

“Was that a nice enough break?” He whispered. You smiled back at him, kissing him softly.

“Yes.” Was all you could say, still trying to catch your breath. You moved off him, laying down on the bed, already missing how he felt buried inside you as you re-adjusted your dress.

Hunter hummed in contentment, rising off the bed and heading into the refresher. He walked back moments later with a damp towel, wiping the inside of your thighs and gently cleaning you up.

“You’re a mess.” He smirked. “You can’t go back to the festival looking like this.”

You sat up, playfully nudging his shoulder. “I have you to thank for that.”

Hunter kissed you, cupping your cheek and tracing his thumb over your flushed face. “I can’t help that you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. With or without the dress.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling your face.

“I’ll have to add it into my weekly rotation.” You teased. “I’d prefer daily.” Hunter smirked, kissing you sweetly again.

Hunter laid next to you, and you rested your head against his chest, tracing your fingertips over his tattoo that ran down his torso. “We should get back soon…” You muttered.

Hunter’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow. “Mmm…yeah…” was all he could muster.

“If I’m not there to stop Crosshair from winning every game, there won’t be prizes left for anyone.” Hunter laughed, cracking open his eyes. “We better get back then.” Neither of you moved, still relishing in one another.

You hummed, thinking. “Ten more minutes won’t hurt.”

Hunter smiled. “Fifteen?”

“Omega might come back with an army of stuffed tookas by then.”

Hunter playfully sighed. “Okay, ten minutes. But only if you promise to wear that dress the rest of the night.”

Hunter may not be a soldier any longer, but his reflexes and strength still remained.

He had you pinned underneath him in an instant, his lips centimeters from yours. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

Your breath hitched at his provocative promise for later, one that he fulfilled over and over again after the festival ended, even after your dress was long discarded.

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @littlemissmanga @secretthegriffin @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @523rdrebel @dukeoftheblackstar @sleepingsun501 @pb-jellybeans

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[flordeamatista]

𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗠𝗲

pairing: artist!bucky barnes x mermaid!reader

concept: With each wave, the ocean speaks of truth, and the flame of his passion is you.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, tiny angst, poetic kissing, ocean kisses, reader siren abilities,  manipulation, twisted love, desire, lust,

a/n: thank you to @aquariusbarnes for giving me the idea of artist!bucky and mermaid!reader

lovely beta: @writing-for-marvel and @lunarbuck thanks for always hearing my rants about this daydreams

gif and moodboard made by me

line divider @s-tarksintern

Masterlist

In the air, on his land, and in your sea, the magic of our love fills the world.

The sun is brilliant in the sky as the boat sails across the ocean waves. It glistens off the water's surface as it transports seawater waves and salty air scented with seaweed to his senses. There is a feeling of calm in the air, and the sound of the waves washing against the boat notifies him of your coming.

A lovely breeze echoes your name over the waves.

The horizon is an endless line of blue, and the ocean's enormity is humbling.

In a few seconds, a seagull is soaring over the expanse of still water. Its wings spread wide, catching the thermals from the sun-heated sand, lifting it higher and higher into the sky. The setting sun lights up the feathers, giving the bird a golden glow.

There is a sudden rippling of thicker and thicker waves across the mirror of blue water. The seagull notices the change and quickly flies away, leaving the ocean to its own fate. The vast expanse of blue filled with foam attracts him despite this, since he sees a beauty in it.

An emerald tail emerges from the depths. As you float along, colorful fish swim around your arms. Reaching out to touch them sends the fish swimming away. Your skin feels warm, and you can hear the sound of the water as it ripples around you with each breath you take.

Mermaid goddess, you rule the seas and even dwell among the living, but you have no idea that his heart swims in rhythm with yours. Though you have no knowledge of it, you hold a power over the sea, and his heart beats in time with the motion of the waves.

Your gaze turns to the artist of the land, the one who captures every emotion of your heart.

In his arms, you find comfort in the world of possibilities he paints for you. There is a sense of peace in his love, as it provides a shelter from the tumultuous waves of life. His works of art are your solace, and you can feel your spirit illuminated with each stroke of his brush.

Your mermaid tail floats from the surface as the sun shines through your gills and your colors reflect in the light.

Painting your grace and elegance is one of his favorite things to do. Your beauty inspires Bucky, and he constantly feels motivated to capture it. He wants to share the beauty he feels in you with the world.

An everlasting masterpiece is what he aspires to create.

Whenever he paints you, it is like he is writing you a love letter. With every stroke he puts on the canvas, he expresses his love for you, and Bucky becomes enchanted with the work.

A stroke tells a story about a man's innermost desires, and you are a window into his soul and a key to his art.

It's as if the sunset speaks of love.

The ocean is infinite blue, and you are the prettiest color he's ever seen.

An emerald green spray of light reflects off the sea under the fierce rays of the sun. Stunning colors and textures are created by the sun's heat and light dancing over the sea surface.

The salty breeze fills the air, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the senses. At that moment, it is as if everything in the world is still, and the only thing that matters is the sea's beauty.

You.

With each wave, the ocean speaks of truth, and the flame of his passion is you.

With the right lines and colors, he depicts it on his canvas.

Bucky is amazed by its beauty, the way light and shadows blend. He realizes that beauty is in nature and in his own heart. As he paints with each brushstroke, he lets his passion shine through, creating art that speaks to his soul.

The moment he shows you his completed work, he is pulled into the water swimming next to you. Your hands find his lower back, and you hold him tightly so he can float. The sun reflects off his wet white shirt, and you catch a glimpse of his chest as he gracefully swims through the water.

You cling to him and twist his shirt, trying to keep him afloat since you can feel him sinking.

You can feel the warmth of his skin against your fingertips as his arms circle your lower back and almost touch your waist, pushing your lower bodies together. The heat flowing through you makes your senses flash in heat, and you crave more.

When he kisses you, he nips on your lips, intensifying the kiss as his hands roam around your upper body, branding your skin with his touch. This touch is one you want marking you today, every day, and until the end of time.

He breaks the kiss slowly, still holding you close to him, burying his head in your shoulder.

As he whispers the ocean melody, he recalls the beauty of seeing you surface in the waves. Kissing your face, he explains to you how he plans to paint what he is kissing and how he wants to showcase every inch of your body.

Bucky pulls back and looks into your eyes, wanting to make this memory last forever.

In an attempt to seize his lips again, you pull him forward and bring him back to your lips. With a firm grip, you tug him close to you as your hands run through his soft hair. This elicits a deep chuckle in his throat.

The two of you remain intertwined as you run your fingers through his hair, down his neck, letting your hand trail into his neck before coming to his front. You tease down his chest, undoing his buttons when you reach them and allowing the waves to assist you in doing so.

His soul is moved by the sea's voice that calls out to him.

You have been planning this from the moment you laid eyes on him. Taking him to your world that will be his new world.

He has no choice but to follow you, his heart pounding as he realizes he's been possessed. His delight at the splendor of the underwater kingdom overcomes his trepidation as he dives deeper into the ocean.

Bucky follows you forward with you into the ocean depths, enchanted by your beauty.

In the dark depths of the ocean, you are the only source of light.

It is as if your eyes penetrate his very soul. You watch him let himself go as he does with his paintbrush when you watched him paint you for weeks. It is as if his growing fear is washed away by your touch and singing. "This land cannot be captured in a painting anymore, Bucky, as you have the ability to become one of the greatest treasures in the world now. My treasure only.”

Bucky kicks a little, his hand fighting against every motion of the water. Your gentle voice holds him as you whisper, "Let go,."

The closer he gets, the stronger your pull is. Your song is mournful, and your eyes seem filled with tears. You sing of how lonely you are, how you need someone to fill the longing within your heart. He wants to be that someone.

It is as if his growing fear is washed away by your touch and singing.

Your song tells him not to be afraid, for it is his destiny to be with you. You are unable to live without him, and only he can free you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring your lips to meet his. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close as you kiss him like he was the air you need to breathe.

As you kiss him underwater, you drag him deeper into the ocean. As long as you hold him, he doesn’t care.

Darkness envelops you both deeper and deeper.

Upon reaching the bottom, you smile at him and let go of his mouth.

With your lust and love, he drowns.

[keqism]

siren song

⊹ feat. wriothesley

⊹ premise. beneath the silvered waves, the sea answers your call.

⊹ cw. GN reader, established relationship, suggestive themes

Somewhere in the depths of the Fortress of Meropide hides a siren.

When the sun drowns in the sea every night, he surfaces, waiting for you to tread his waters. And you do, stopping by Café Lutece to pick up your order before bidding the night sky farewell and making your way down into the underwater prison. 

The Fortress is always quiet around this time, the inmates retired to their bunks already. Only the hissing of the pipes and your footsteps echo in the corridors until you reach the Duke's office.

And then you hear the Siren.

You wouldn't call his voice pretty, not with its roughness and the way it breaks when the melody steps too high. But there's a warmth to the baritone notes that soothe the worries in your heart and slowly lull you to sleep. Drowsy, you lean against the doorway of his office, and from your hiding place, you can see a pair of gloved hands scribbling something down, faint scars peeping out from under the black fabric. Nonsensical lyrics and the sound of rustling paper fill the room as the Siren continues to hum along to the melody playing on the phonograph.  

But when the singing abruptly stops and song melts away into a low, embarrassed chuckle, you know you've been caught. 

"Hey there, eavesdropper," a roguish smile greets you as you enter Wriothesley's office, and you return the gesture with a grin. 

"Had a long day, Your Grace?" you ask, nodding towards the piles of paperwork on his desk and the ink stains bleeding into his skin. 

A long, drawn-out sigh. "You can say that again," he mutters. Shifting back in his chair, Wriothesley pats his thighs twice in a silent command, and you oblige. As you settle on his lap, you lift the paper bag in your hand and shake it. "Dinner," you simply state, setting it down on his desk and watching his eyes light up. 

Large hands come up to wrap around your waist to pull you closer, almost instinctively, and Wriothesley presses a kiss to your cheek. And another one on the other cheek, and then his lips are on yours, your body melting into his touch. It's a rough, desperate kiss because even the mere hours you spend apart—with you on the surface and him in the underworld, separated by miles of seawater—feel like months.

You hastily pull away when you feel his hands slip under your shirt. "Don't get carried away now, Your Grace. The paperwork still needs you tonight," you chide, sending a pointed glance at the desk behind you.

You're met with a groan in reply, and he tucks his face into your neck in disappointment, strands of his black hair tickling your chin. You run your fingers through them to smooth them down and Wriothesley lets out a small noise of contentment.

"I liked your little performance earlier," you admit quietly, reveling in the light flush of red that dusts his cheeks. 

"Alright, eavesdropper," he huffs and rolls his eyes, "stop snooping." But the silent laughter that shakes his broad shoulders says that despite his embarrassment, he doesn't mind much.  

"What does one have to do to get the Duke of Meropide to sing again?" you tease.

Wriothesley pulls back to look at you, mischief dancing in his eyes. "I can think a few things," he grins, voice dropping in volume, "and all of them involve you, me, and a bed." Hands slide under your shirt again and this time you let them, giggling while he carries you to the bedroom upstairs.

And when Neuvillette shows up the next day, asking about the missing paperwork he was supposed to receive, the Siren smiles and blames you for luring him into your net.

౨ৎ thank you for reading, reblogs & comments are always welcome !

[pickingupmymercedes]

Hiii I love your writing so much!! I was wondering if you can make a Lewis x reader where she has some type of chronic illness and one day she gets a really bad flare up and he takes care of her :)

If you’re not comfortable or don’t feel like writing it you can ignore this ask :)

Hi love, of course! I did a shortish one-shot

Btw, I chose eczema because my beautiful best friend has battled it a good chunk of her teen years and I'm so incredibly and forever proud of the amazing woman she's become, and how she continously lifts other people even when she doesn't have to . Love you H.

Warnings: description of eczema

______________________________________________________________

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky. In the serene twilight, Lewis Hamilton sat by the window, watching the Melbourne lights twinkle like distant stars. His thoughts drifted to the upcoming Japanese Grand Prix, the anticipation of this week off tingling in the air. But amidst the excitement, a sense of worry gnawed at him.

Beside him, you lay on the couch, curled up in discomfort. The gentle hum of the evening enveloped the room, but your soft whimpers cut through the tranquility. Lewis glanced at you, concern etched on his features.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You managed a weak nod, but the pain etched on your face betrayed your words. Lewis sighed softly, his heart heavy with concern. He knew all too well the toll your chronic illness took on you, especially during flare-ups.

Your eczema, a constant companion in your life, often made its presence known at the most inconvenient times. Lewis had witnessed the struggles you faced; the silent battles fought behind closed doors. Yet, through it all and much to your comfort, he remained steadfast by your side.

That night, however, your flare-up seemed particularly severe. Lewis could see the discomfort etched in every line of your face. Gently, he knelt beside you, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I'll take care of you, darling," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing melody in the dimly lit room.

Despite his assurances, you couldn't shake the feeling of shame that enveloped you. The raw, red patches on your legs, a stark reminder of your condition, made you feel vulnerable and exposed. The thought of facing the world, especially at the upcoming Grand Prix, filled you with dread.

Lewis sensed your inner turmoil – it was a place your mind tended to take you – his heart aching at the sight of your distress. With a tender smile, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "You don't have to hide, love," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance. "You're beautiful, just as you are."

Days passed, and the Japanese Grand Prix loomed ever closer. The excitement in the air was palpable, anticipation crackling like electricity. But amidst the flurry of preparations, you couldn't shake the lingering doubt if you should go at all. As the day of the race dawned, nerves fluttered in your stomach like a restless butterfly. The thought of facing the world, your eczema on full display, filled you with dread.

Regardless, you made your way to the track, the air alive with the roar of engines and the buzz of the crowd. Amidst the sea of faces, Lewis's support anchored you, a steady presence in the tumultuous sea of life.

The days following the Grand Prix went as usual. Another Mercedes bad weekend, the headlines filled with the dread of how they would bounce back, but amidst the bad press, a simple message on social media caught your eye, touching your heart in a profound way.

In a picture of you and Lewis, taken during the Grand Prix, was accompanied by a heartfelt caption.

"I've always been ashamed of my eczema, hiding it away from the world. But seeing [Your Name] embracing her skin and being open about her struggles gives me hope. Thank you for showing me that it's okay to be myself, flaws and all. 💖 #EczemaWarrior #TrueBeauty"

Tears welled in your eyes as you read the heartfelt words, the impact of your openness suddenly crashing you, the realization that your journey could inspire and empower others was almost overwhelming.

With a trembling hand, you liked the post and replied with a heartfelt message of your own. "Thank you for your beautiful words. You are strong and beautiful just as you are. Never be afraid to show it. 💖"

The outpouring of support and encouragement that followed was overwhelming, a testament to the power of authenticity and vulnerability. Messages from fans around the world flooded your notifications, each one echoing the hope you felt.

However, amidst the sea of positivity, a few photographers at the Grand Prix had been less than kind. Their whispered comments and mocking glances hadn't gone unnoticed, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

One evening, as you sat in Lewis’ lap in his home back in Monaco, he turned to you with a gentle expression, his eyes filled with concern.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine care and love reflected in his gaze. Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"You don't have to talk about your eczema just because people are noticing it, you know. You owe them nothing" he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "I just want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I want to do this, Lew" you said, your voice steady with conviction. "I was the kid embarrassed of it, hiding it away from the world. Other kids need to know they have no reason to be ashamed. If sharing my story can help even one person feel less alone, it's worth it."

Lewis's eyes softened, a proud smile gracing his lips as he nodded in understanding. "You’re so brave, babe.” he whispered, pulling you close. "I’m forever proud of you”.

[vampyrsm]

‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER FIFTEEN | SUGAWARA MICHIZANE

‣‣ Synopsis: Something terrible awaits the former Shogun's daughter, trapped in the maw of her enemy. The Shogun promises nothing but misery for one, and a marriage proposal for another. Eyes of blue see the true depths of her soul, and he bestows judgment upon her.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 7.3k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, descriptions of torture, descriptions of wounds, death, the Shogun has his own warning, as do the Zen'in clan, threats of noncon (it's very brief), misogynistic views, beatings with weapons.

Seas of rolling silver, a soft breeze that rolls along the tops of the Chinese Silver Grass, stray tops of the long flowering leaves fluttering along to be lost in the world. The grass is long enough to provide shelter, an open-topped enclosure away from the harshness of the outside world.

Your fingers brush along the feathered tops of the grass, watching it fall away and break away to float into the unknown. It was awfully peaceful here, a sense of serenity that could only be achieved in such a beautiful place. It has your lungs shrinking deeply to release a long breath, your muscles relaxing along with it.

The trees in the distance were a brilliant orange, leaves of Autumn falling away with the gentle breeze that rolled away. Autumn was always a favourite season of yours, to watch the leaves change colour and then to fall away when it was time. 

A shifting in the grass next to you has your eyes drifting away from the golden horizon, and down to the man next to you. 

Sukuna lays on his back, two hands tucked behind his head and the other two resting atop the lightly coloured kimono he decided to wear today. His face was the picture of bliss, his muscles entirely relaxed and if you looked close enough, the corner of his lips were lifted in a very subtle smile. 

The sun painted him in a gorgeous softness, across his features and melted into the pink tones of his hair. His tattoos were such a stark difference to the light and yet he looked devastating. You wanted to reach out for him, to trace along those tattoos with the tips of your fingers until you could retrace them with your eyes closed.

Love. That’s what you felt for him. Fully and truly, you loved him with every ounce of your being. And that’s why it hurt to stare at him, to see the softness on his face that you knew he would never allow himself to feel. His chest barely moves beneath his kimono, a gentle exhale with an even softer inhale. 

Then his eyes crack open, peering up at you through a squinted glance. The sunlight only amplifies the red of his eye, intensifying it until it looks like pools of crimson blood swirled there. The flecks of maroon were lost in the sea of red. 

“Kill him.” He says, and his voice sounds like it’s a mile away. Like he’s whispering on the wind that brushes against the bareness of your face. 

You open your mouth to reply, to ask him what he means by that, who is ‘him’. But instead, something icy cold washes over you from head to toe. Your body jolts at the sensation, and an ache blossoms in your upper arms and wrists. Your head slams back against something hard enough to cause your vision to swim momentarily.

Gone is the lightness of the autumnal sky and instead, you’re greeted with damp walls and dim lanterns. Your body shivers in the cold, and the sound of shoes on stone flooring has you looking around in the darkness. A man stands before you, a bucket in his hands that was most likely filled with the ice water that had been thrown on you.

“Welcome back to the Land of the Living.” He laments, chucking the bucket into one corner with a horrendous bang in the barrenness of the room. He takes steps towards you, and you can’t help but bristle. 

You try to lurch your arms forward, to throw everything you have at him but you only move a few inches before you’re stuck in place. The metal tightly bound around your wrist hisses against your skin, or rather, it burns against the use of your cursed energy. 

“Keep that up and you’ll have no hands left.” The man in front of you crouches suddenly, and you jolt at just how close he suddenly was. “So how about you relax, and listen to what I have to say.”

You lift your gaze from the long metal chains that you were bound with, and you smack the back of your head once again against the stone brick wall behind you. The man all but grins at your reaction, crystalline blue eyes dance with mirth. 

Sugawara Michizane.

“Long time no see.” This close you can see the divine power that rests within those eyes, they swirl with something powerful and dangerous. Something that makes your stomach clench and that snarling darkness within bares its teeth in defiance of such power. “I bet you thought you killed me, huh?” 

“No.” You manage to grit out the word. His cursed energy output was crushing, to say the least, and without your own to battle with his—it was like you were being crushed beneath a mountain.

“Oh?” He still smiles with white teeth, sharp canines on show. His hair is long, even in the bun he has it swept back in, stray strands flop over his eyes slightly when he tilts his head to follow your head when you droop in your restraints. “Did your husband tell you that?”

It takes everything within you to not spit in his face at the taunting tone of his voice, it certainly wouldn’t make your current situation any easier. So you let out the breath held in your lungs through a shaky exhale, and Sugawara seems pleased even with that. His eyes framed with white lashes dance between your own, and it’s no different to the first time you’d met him.

He’s not actually looking at you, but rather through you; into you. Picking you apart like a vulture would until it finds the juiciest part to eat. 

Thankfully he doesn’t goad you further, instead, he stands up to his full height. You have to crane your head up to look at him, he wasn’t nearly as tall as Sukuna but even for a simple human man, he was exceptionally tall. Something about every aspect of him was different. 

“You should thank me for being the one to wake you up.” He comments, brushing a hand over his hair to brush the stray hairs out of his face. You squint at the state of his hair, it certainly wasn’t the mandated style that the Shogunate had to adopt—he wasn’t a puppet of the Shogun, it seemed. “There’s a few people here who want to see if they can tame the demon whore.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t have access to your cursed energy anymore.” He scuffs his sandals on the floor as he drags the bucket back over towards you, flipping it over to sit down on it before you. “You have no way of fighting back. That’s how the Shogun wanted it.”

Bile burns at your throat. He wanted you completely helpless and vulnerable. A reminder of your position in the world.

“And you?” You try your hardest to not show the emotions that flitted through you. “Do you have no plans to break me?”

Sugawara is quiet for a moment, the light in his blue eyes a faint glow in the darkness of the room. You can feel the thrum of his cursed energy, it laps at your body like that of waves on the beach—he was reigning it in, he had no need to posture anymore. 

He clears his throat, a shake of his head before his eyes dart down to look at the floor. “No. I wanted you dead, not because you were a traitor but because anything is better than being back in the hands of the Zen’in clan.”

“Then let me go–”

“Don’t be so stupid.” He snaps back in return, enough venom on his tongue to make your spine straighten. “You’re never leaving here. You’ll die here.”

“Kill me.” You seethe the words, jaw locking with the flex of it. Sugawara stares at you, the slight widening of his eyes tells you even he is shocked by your words. “Kill me before he makes a show of me.” 

You don’t want to think of what you’re saying truly means. To die would be losing a part of yourself, you’d lose not just your life but Sukuna in the same breath. It pains you to even think the words, let alone speak them but it’s nothing but the truth. You’d rather be killed by a Samurai than paraded around by the Shogun until he inevitably mounted your head on a spike as a message—a message to those who harboured thoughts to disobey him, and to Sukuna.

“Don’t be foolish.” Sugawara snaps in retort, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “To kill you is the same as raising my weapon against the Shogun—I’d be as good as dead.”

The air grows uncomfortable between the two of you, a tension that could snap with the lightest of breezes. Your fingers curl into your palms painfully, the shackles holding you to the wall hiss at the flexing of cursed energy beneath your skin. 

“Coward.” The word lands against his face with the bloodied spit that you aim in his direction. Sugawara rears back suddenly, gone is the composure of a Samurai and instead in his place is a man scorned. “I’ll kill you first.” 

Sugawara moves far quicker than you can keep up with, it takes half a millisecond for him to cross the space between the both of you. Your head rattles for the third time since reawakening against the stone wall, a warmth blossoms there. His fingers are cold as they curl around your throat, and you can feel a buzz of something at the edge of his fingers.

He holds you there, just an inch between your nose and his own. His eyes are wide, the blue within almost blinding with how close he is to you. And despite how close he is, and how quickly he moved, his breaths are calm and collected. The energy that curls around his body protectively buzzes to life in the stale air of the cell, it bites into your skin and presses you further into the wall.

It’s crushing you. 

Blood pools on your tongue, dripping from your mouth in strings of spittle when you grin up at Sugawara. That chained darkness within stirs awake, itching at your bones to be released. The shackles holding you whine beneath the pressure of both your own energy and the pressure of Sugawara’s. 

Your lips tingle from the lack of oxygen, the pressure behind your eyes is nearly enough for you to concede—to give into the pressure and let it crush you. But Sugawara had chosen to bow his head to a Shogun he feared, a wolf with his tail between his legs is no wolf at all… instead he’s just a scared dog. 

But as quickly as the pressure came, it was taken away. Sugawara takes three steps backwards and stands as straight as a metal pole. His energy vanishes as if it weren’t crushing you into the wall behind you. Your body sags immediately, the chains tug your arms harshly upwards and you can’t help but wince at the blistering pain already forming at your wrists.

“Lord Sugawara.” A voice calls from beyond the bars of the holding cell, and Sugawara holds his gaze over you for a few seconds longer before he turns towards the voice. “The Shogun has asked you to bring the prisoner to his private courtyard.” 

You can’t see Sugawara’s face anymore but you see the stiffness in his shoulders, how he tenses even after nearly choking you to death. And you know not to show your own fear, to not bend beneath the all-encompassing icy feeling as the words settle into your mind.

The private courtyard. Away from prying eyes and lingering ears that may relay a message to his enemies. 

“Very well.” Sugawara says with a half bow, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. The sound of footfall fades away until you’re left in the stifling silence once again. When Sugawara turns to face you again, his face is stoic—the blue in his eyes akin to that of a frozen lake, locking away any emotion that he may have felt just moments ago.

He’s uncaring when he pulls harshly on the heavy chains that hold you hostage, his hand wrapping them around his forearm to ensure you don’t run as soon as you get some leeway. A hand buries itself into your unkempt hair and yanks you from the floor, your feet protest against the coldness of the stone flooring. 

“Hold your tongue and you may live to see another day.” The words are the only thing Sugawara says to you before he drags you from the cell, your feet struggling to keep up with his wide strides. Doors are opened before he reaches them, and you can only briefly glance over your shoulder to glance at where you have been kept. 

You’d only visited the Zen’in estate a handful of times as a child. Your father had always preferred to live within the estate made by the Emperor, a housing estate fit for the Shogun but also could hold his hundreds of Samurai soldiers. But when you had visited the Zen’in estate, it was such a strange ominous feeling to step foot inside.

You weren’t heir to the Zen’in clan, and everyone sneered in your direction. Even as a child, hateful eyes watched you—as if they could see the future written on your very skin. Servants never looked at you, and the men of the family would often comment on how you’d be nothing but a child bearer for some of the lesser Zen’in family members.

Of course, your father had never been present for such comments. You doubt they would’ve said such a thing in the presence of the first Shogun, a man who had a warrior spirit like no other. Part of you wishes he was, to see the true wrath of your father at such a young age perhaps would’ve made the blow of his betrayal to you in the future much easier to swallow.

The stares of the Zen’ins are no different now, in fact, it may even be worse. Men snarl in your direction, spitting at your feet as you pass by and whispers of ‘demon whore’ is a reoccurring thing. You want to disobey Sugawara’s demand of holding your tongue and keeping quiet, these men were nothing but young boys who had been gifted a pretty sword. 

They’d cower at your feet if they caught a whiff of the power that rumbles within.

A tug of the chains at your wrists has you stumbling sharply around a corner, the tatami mats are a nice change from the harsh stone flooring that lined parts of the estate. Light from outside streams through the open doors and windows, enough to tell you that morning had already broke but not how many days had passed since you were attacked in the village.

You take the moment to quickly glance over yourself, you were still in your kimono. The blood that had been fresh is now a near-black from how dried it became, the mud on your feet flakes with each hurried step you’re forced to take. Your wounds are healed, thankfully, the burns on your arms are non-existent and you wonder if you had done it yourself whilst you slept or if someone here had the ability to heal others.

Sugawara’s kegetsu shoes scraped against the tatami mats which each step he took. It was enough to draw your attention back to the man himself, you hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the dim lantern light of the cell. His clothes were made of the finest fabrics, you could tell that much. On his shoulders was a fine Mino; the cloak of straw swished with each step he took. 

You wondered where he may have gone before interacting with you to wear such a thing. You’d only ever seen the samurai of the Shogunate wearing cloaks like that when it was raining, or when they had to venture into snowfall. 

His traditional armour was stripped down however to the bare basics, you could spy the armoured sections on his upper arms and shoulders, as well as on his legs. He didn’t wear the traditional helmet however, the string attached to his straw hat was loose at his neck whilst the hat itself sat against his back. He didn’t look like he belonged in the Shogunate at all, you wouldn’t be surprised if he belonged to his own clan. 

A man of his power wouldn’t bow to a Zen’in. Never.

The corridors twist and turn, the servants thinning out the further you stray away from the cells. The air is tense, even with the absence of cursed energy. You knew you were growing closer to your uncle, to the Shogun.

A large shoji door is slid open in front of you, and a tug on the chains at your wrists forces you to step over the threshold into the wide-open room. It was grand, for lack of a better word. It housed the Shogun, complete with his sleeping quarters as well as a large hearth and a multitude of shelves filled with scrolls.

It was just like your father's own personal quarters. Except your father had never, ever brought hostages into his home.

You’re dragged forward out towards the courtyard, it was much smaller than the main one where your uncle would hold an audience with his Shogunate and the surrounding villages. It was an enclosed space, cut off from the world, it was meant to be a place of relaxation and zen for the Shogun. 

Instead, your uncle has turned it into a makeshift torture chamber.

Your uncle himself is standing at the edge of the wooden platform that looks down into the courtyard, and before him are two people. Bound and gagged, a man and a woman. They’re stripped naked, and immediately you can feel your stomach churning in discomfort as to what’s to come. 

Slowly, Sugawara comes to a stop. His hand tightens around the chains slightly at the sight in front of him, and you can practically taste the buzz of his cursed energy when it flares momentarily before vanishing just as quickly. Wordlessly, he bows deep at the waist and in turn, drags down your chains which brings you stumbling forward in an awkward half-bent bow.

Except, you do not lower your head when your uncle turns around. He looks just like your father, a spitting image of his older brother. His face is cold, mouth a thin line and eyes darker than that of coal. His armour is absent, a clear sign that even in the face of the woman who had been housed with Sukuna for months is not a threat to him. 

You want to make him choke on his own tongue.

“When they said you looked like a demon’s whore, I didn’t realise it was this bad.” The Shogun sneers at you, glaring down his nose where you still refuse to bow your head to a man like him. “I should cut your head off where you stand for such insubordination.” 

Your lip twitches, a barely concealed curl of your lip in anger. The metal shackles at your wrists burn tenfold, whatever they had imbued into the metal is strong enough to completely nullify your ability to use your cursed energy—yet it still burns deep within, yearning to be released. 

“But I have plans for you.” He says, raising a single hand and there’s a shuffle of feet from one of the cowering servants who drops a bow in his hand along with a dozen arrows. “You’re going to tell me just how to kill that bastard of a demon, and in return, you get to live.”

“And if I don’t?” You spit against your better judgment, and Sugawara spares you just a sideways glance once he returns to his full height.

“I think you’ll find yourself quite agreeable to these terms.” 

His shoulders roll, and with it the haori he was wearing falls to the ground to pool at his feet. It’s effortless with how easily he pulls back the string on the traditional bow, the arrow lined up with the man on the left. Immediately the naked man quivers in fear, eyes wide and spit dripping from around the cloth gagging him. 

So this was how your uncle was going to play.

“We’ll start easy, I don’t want to overwhelm your mind.” He snickers at his own words—a jab at the fact you were a woman, not because he was concerned for your wellbeing of being away for so long. 

“Where is he?” Question one, and immediately you draw your eyebrows together. How did they not know where he was? Yorozu knew, which meant they knew where you were—...but they drew you away from the temple, they didn’t dare to step foot onto the temple grounds itself. Your Uncle glances over his shoulder at your silence, clearly noticing your confusion. 

“He was sighted in the village after we captured you, but since then no one has been able to report back on his whereabouts. Given that you’re his… whore, we thought you might know.” 

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” 

The Shogun stares at you for a long tense moment, the bow in his hand creaks from the pressure of him holding the string back. “How unfortunate.” 

The arrow whistles through the air, and immediately the man screams albeit muffled. You glance at the man, to find the arrow embedded in his thigh and the blood spills from the entry wound into the otherwise clean gravel below. The woman next to him wails too, her eyes puffy and red from crying—his wife. He had brought you a man and his wife.

“Fine. Tell me what he did to you.” Another arrow is drawn up, the string pressed against your uncle's cheek. He glares at you, and in turn, you glare back. Your silence is your answer. 

A whistle and a scream, this time the woman. Her body convulses and you’re drawn to see the arrow had impacted her in the shoulder, the blood drips down between her breasts and pools in her lap. Her husband next to her screams for the both of them. 

“How many sorcerers are under his control?” Silence. An arrow—the man’s stomach. He still lives.

“Is it true that he eats women and children?” Yes—but you remain silent. Your eyes never once leave your uncles this time, and you see the crack forming in his armour. He’s starting to lose his patience.

The arrow this time is aimed higher, and the sound is something only a dead body could make. It’s a thump, a tension that sits over the courtyard before a woman screams. It’s not a scream that could be put into words, a scream that comes deep from the gut. Pure agony, devastation and heartbreak.

The Shogun doesn’t break eye contact with you whilst he loads the next arrow. 

“How do I kill him?” This time, it’s you who breaks. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, the grin on your face is something you’d seen on Sukuna’s face countless times—it was a demeaning grin, filled with malice.

“You can’t.” You snicker at the red of the Shogun’s face, his anger bubbles quickly. Sugawara at your side even shuffles a step backwards, his fingers still tight around the chains that bind you. “You’re too weak, all of you.”

The arrow is released before you even finish your sentence, the wails of the woman silenced before there’s an arrow pointed directly at you. The Shogun stands closer, the string drawn taut and his facial features are tight with anger. 

You smile at him. 

“General Jien,” Sugawara speaks up, bowing his head when your uncle's eyes flick towards the blue-eyed Samurai. “Killing her would be a waste.”

Jien Zen’in stays silent, his eyes remain locked onto Sugawara. His fingers twitch at the string, and surprisingly—you feel your heart lurch in your chest in a tinge of fear. 

“Break her. Torture her, do whatever you need to. Lure the King of Curses in—she’s in good condition, there’s no evidence that she was mistreated.” Sugawara wets his lips, and you feel that darkness within snarl. “Clearly the King of Curses has only one weakness. Her. Kill her once we kill Sukuna.”

His words are worse than any wound you’ve ever received, it cuts deeper than any blade and is sharper than the arrow still aimed between your eyes. Sugawara had seen more than you anticipated, no doubt he could see the mixture of cursed energy within you—his eyes were something special. 

And he offered your love for Sukuna up to the Shogun on a silver platter.

The Shogun laughs, his stance loosens and the arrow is lowered from in front of you. “I knew you were good for something besides those eyes of yours—” The Shogun grins, unaware of the bristling Samurai next to you. “Very well. I’ll have her sent back to her cell, and you can oversee the torture yourself. Make sure they don’t kill her, I don’t care about anything else.” 

Sugawara bows deeply, the chains rattling and with it, you’re forced to bow. Instead of allowing your insolence to slip by however, you feel the bone in your calf snap. Your Uncle draws his leg back, moving much quicker than you anticipated—he too had a technique like your father's, like yours. 

You crumble to the floor, your knees slamming into the wooden floorboards. Despite the stony mask you wore, you can’t help but scream in pain at the radiating ache that comes from your now shattered tibia. Your hands fall forward to try and catch yourself before your nose smashes into the floor, Sugawara does nothing but let the chain slacken lest you pull him down too.

Another crunch and your fingers are snapped beneath the wooden shoes your uncle wears. You scream again, and the Shogun laughs at the sound. You watch in horror when he grinds his heel into the ground, rolling it against your shattered bones and the skin that tore apart. 

“What a beautiful sound!” The Shogun announces loudly, withdrawing his foot to allow you to see the damage to your hands. You can feel the burn of the metal at your wrists, but it’s nothing compared to the pain that thrums from your hands. “I like the way the whore screams, maybe I’ll come and visit her.”

Sugawara remains silent at your side, and you can feel the burn of his eyes on your hands. He did this, he’s the reason you’ll suffer beneath the hand of a cruel Shogun. 

“Take her away. She’s bloodying the floor, who knows what she’s infected with.” The Shogun takes a step back, and you tense involuntarily at the sound of his shoes scraping on the floor. “If she’s reformed quickly, maybe you’ll want to marry her Sugawara. Strong children would serve me well.”

The pain is enough to ensure you hold your tongue, but the withering glare you send to the Shogun is enough to cause his spine to straighten. You hope when he stares into your eyes, he sees nothing but the date of his death and you as the executioner. You promise, no, you vow to kill him.

Sugawara’s hand buzzes against your back, and you can feel the burn of his cursed energy there. Not even he dares to drop his guard around the Shogun or you, for that matter. He helps you to your feet, and the pain shoots up sharply from the base of your heel to your hip bone. Your chest lurches with the pain, but you don’t gift the Shogun one of your ‘beautiful screams’—instead, you bite your tongue and stare up at him.

Before either of you can spit further insults and speed up the inevitable sentence of your death, Sugawara strides away. You’re forced to follow after, you hobble awkwardly on one good leg and another that burns with pain. You can feel the sticky wetness that drips down your calf, no doubt a bone has protruded yet that’s not enough to cause you to dip your head in defeat.

The corridors are still barren as you traverse them once again behind Sugawara, only the sounds of your grunting and heavy breaths. Sugawara doesn’t slow his pace to match yours. 

“You’re a coward.” You spit once you’re further away from the Shogun, away from prying ears. “Nothing but a lowly dog who sits in the lap of a man who’d wear your hide as a coat if he could.”

“And you’re a foolish girl. If you told him what he wanted to hear you wouldn’t be dragging your leg behind you.” He snips back, an ice-cold glare over his shoulder is thrown your way. “And you’ll likely never wield a sword again. All because you’re a prideful whore. You truly believe Sukuna cares for you?”

“You do.” You retort, and Sugawara snorts.

“No. I just think you have something that belongs to the King of Curses, and he’ll want to ensure he gets it back.” That’s all the confirmation that you needed, Sugawara had definitely seen the vow or at least the outcome of it. He saw how your soul was tangled with Sukuna’s, how you were more valuable alive. You’d become Sukuna’s demise, a weapon to be used against him. 

Your face hardens at that, just knowing you were to be used as a tool to lure in Sukuna sours your stomach. You wanted to believe he wouldn’t fall for it, but everything Sugawara said was true; you had a part of Sukuna bound to you. He would want that back instead of having it fall into the enemy's hands.

Sugawara doesn’t comment further, dragging you along behind him. The stares of the Zen’in clan are worse on the way back, they snicker and scoff at you. A woman who was meant to be strong enough to live beside the great King of Curses was reduced to nothing but a mangled mess. Your blood smeared across the stone floors, sank in between the cracks and not once did Sugawara stop. 

The walk back to the cell is longer than it was on the way out, but once you get there, you instantly want to retreat back up those dreaded stairs. In the cells are three men, all of them with sickening grins and wooden sticks you knew to be training swords for children. Sugawara doesn’t falter in his steps, and the men all but part for him to pass by to allow the blue-eyed Samurai to reattach you to the wall. 

With your back pressed into the cool stone once again, your arms spread wide at your sides and your feet trying desperately to touch the ground enough to alleviate the pain in your shoulders. Sugawara stands in front of you, with wide shoulders and enough height to block out the sight of the three men.

His eyes meet yours, and you see an emotion turning over in his eyes. He looked sorry. “Don’t fight them.” He whispers, masking his words with a rattle of the chains, double-checking you were securely in place. 

You want to spit in his face, to curse him and his bloodline for daring to feel guilt for putting you in this exact situation. Instead, you keep your eyes locked with his when he takes steps back, the men behind him taking steps forward. You don’t once break eye contact with him, not even when the tall one with inky black hair steps in front of you. 

A hand clasps around your jaw, rough calluses digging into your flesh there as he squeezes. Your jaw pops in protest, forcing your mouth to open and the man in front of you deepens his smirk into something that would be fitting of an Oni. 

“The Shogun gave us special orders on how to handle you. We’re to break you.” Eventually, you drag your eyes away from Sugawara to stare at the man in front of you, you hope he can see the clawing darkness deep within you, you hope he can see his own death by your hand for daring to lay a hand on you.

However, he drops your head with a rough push into the wall behind you. Your brain rattles within your skull, and it takes everything within you to not let your eyes roll closed at the pain that radiates there. You barely get a second to breathe before something rips down your front, gone is your kimono that Sukuna had draped over you the night you had left the temple. 

There’s a quick thwack through the air before the wooden katana collides with your stomach, you feel the skin break and tear from the sheer force of the hit. Your stomach lurches, and your body twinges with pain. Two more hits come swiftly after, each one from a man in front of you.

They all laugh at the way your body curls inwards on itself, and how your hands uselessly grab at the chains, uncaring for the bones that are snapped and exposed, which hold you up as if they’d somehow hoist you up and out of the way. A wooden crack of a katana against your thigh has your chest tightening, another across your breasts is enough to make you shriek in pain.

Your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip, the blood there tastes like acid on your tongue. Putrid with your failure, you had fallen for their trap. You had given yourself over to them so easily. You were the only one to blame, and you could only hope Sukuna stayed far, far away. 

The skin across the front of your body blossoms with bruises and open wounds, your skin mottles and bleeds with burst blood vessels. But beneath all of that, you can feel the curling warmth just under your skin. It tries minutely to heal the damage done to your body, but the damage coming at you outweighs how little you can heal at a time.

You’re unsure how long you stay there strung up to the wall like a piece of meat, but the three unknown Zen’in members have taken an interest in using their fists and the hard wooden soles of their shoes to see who can make you scream the loudest. A crack across your face has your head reeling, the cool stone of the wall behind you is a welcome reprieve against your split cheek. 

Their jeers and taunting comments are like waves of rocks, you hear nothing but the bashing of your blood in your body. The pounding of your heart against your ears is deafening, the rapid beats futile in trying to replace the blood lost.

A hand sinks into your hair, pulling harshly at the roots until you’re yanked forward to face the man in front of you. His face is speckled in your blood, and his eyes are wild with sick pleasure. “Is this why that bastard kept you around? You’re nothing more than a piece of meat—good for nothing but a good beating and a nasty fuck.”

You want to frown at his words, to show the clear disgust and disdain you feel for his words but your face is numb. The muscles in your cheeks burn with pain and you can hardly see out of the black-eye one of them had graciously given you with a swift right-hook. 

“Maybe we should see just how good you are.” His tongue peeks out from his mouth, wetting his lips as well as swiping up the blood there. When he grins, the red is spread across his teeth. “Everyone knows the best way to make a woman obedient is to give her a nice thick cock—”

“That’s enough for today,” Sugawara calls from the other side of the cell, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is a mask of stony coldness, not an inkling of disgust for what he had to witness for God knows how long. “The Shogun doesn’t want her ruined. She’s to be my wife.” 

All three men glare over their shoulders at Sugawara, but evidently, he must hold a higher rank in the Shogunate because they back off immediately. But not without a quick puckering of lips and spit landing on your body, seeping into open wounds and stinging against frayed nerves. 

The cell is plunged into familiar silence, a welcome change from the sound of your flesh and bone breaking beneath fists and wooden training swords. Your body visibly sags against the wall, your brain fuzzy enough to stop you from flinching when someone crouches down in front of you. His hands are gentle at your wrists, loosening the chains in the hoops so you could rest fully on the ground.

Icy stone bites at your bare flesh, yet you cannot find it within yourself to flinch or air your discomfort. Sugawara brushes the hair out of your face, pulling strands of it free from your slowly healing wounds. He doesn’t comment on how you shouldn’t have access to even that part of your cursed energy, perhaps he had truly felt guilty for what you had been put through.

He sits with you, in the damp darkness of that cell. He doesn’t move away when you finally cry, the tears a coppery saltiness that stains your lips and drips from your chin. Instead, he lays a scratchy blanket over you—more of a sack than anything but it’s enough to save your modesty, if there was anything left to save.

You don’t remember your eyes closing, nor do you remember Sugawara sitting outside of your cell that entire day, and the following night to ensure no one had come to finish the job.

...

The previous day…

Snow dances and twirls beneath heavy feet, flakes of pure white nestle into pink hair and settle against broad shoulders. The village is silent, nothing but a whistling wind that blows through the ruined buildings.

Sukuna stands silent in the village, Uraume only a few paces away with their hands bundled within the thick sleeves of their robes. It had only been a matter of hours since Sukuna had tracked down the trace of your energy, it was faint as if someone had tried to cover up your tracks. But Sukuna could recognise it anywhere, after all, it was mixed with his own.

His feet come to a slow stop, and he glances down to the body partially buried beneath snow. They have no head, and it reeks of death already. He can see the traces of your energy here the most, impacted in one big puddle as if you threw everything at this unidentifiable body. 

You put up a fight, a good one. Sukuna couldn’t help but feel pride at that, yet there was something that buzzed uncomfortably at the back of his mind. You were strong, yes, and you had done a decent amount of damage with your cursed energy. He can see the deep divots where you had used Cleave and Dismantle in equal measure against those who had trapped you in the village.

That discomfort at the back of his mind makes itself present when he takes a deep breath in, the mingling of scents and cursed energy burn at his nose. Only one person in the entirety of Japan could hold such divine power, one he had warned you about in the past. You weren’t meant to go up against Him alone, Sukuna was to be at your side—the both of you together would’ve been unstoppable.

“Show yourself.” Sukuna calls over the raging winds, his eyes still locked onto the fresh scorch marks that mar the wood of the dilapidated buildings. 

Slow steps crunch against the snow, a dragging sound that could only be identified as someone dragging their long kimono through the snow. Sukuna lifts his head, and his eyes lock with gelid ones. Yuki Onna is otherwise flawless, there’s no hint of the horror that lurks beneath her skin and yet her lips carry a frown that looks awfully wrong on the face of such a woman.

Yuki Onna comes to a stop, with enough space between herself and Sukuna. Good, he thinks, she respects him enough to keep her distance.

“What happened here?” Sukuna demands, and the snow-like woman finally drifts her eyes down along the body on the floor, and again over the snow in the distance that looked undisturbed since the snow had begun to fall again.

“She didn’t run.” Yuki Onna starts, her voice like claws on ice. “I warned her, she did not listen.” Her words end in a hiss, and Sukuna only deepens his frown.

“Who attacked her?” He probes instead, all four of his hands itch to sink his claws into the cursed spirit and demand answers immediately.

Yuki Onna shifts on her feet, turning to glance again towards the undisturbed snow as if she could see just who or what had unfolded here. “A woman, with hair as pink as cherry blossoms. And men, only two survived. They tasted of deceit and ash.”

Sukuna’s chest rumbles in distaste. He had an itching suspicion that the Sun, Moon and Stars squad would be involved in your capture. He had only heard of one name, a woman with pink hair as described by the Yuki Onna. Sukuna knew much about the assassin organisation, it was a place for those who stripped themselves of names and held only names attaining to the solar system. 

Except one. The woman. Takako Uro. Sukuna knew her, of course he did. He knew too that she would be dead at the hands of her own sooner rather than later, her name was a death sentence. To be named in a nameless group was to have a target painted on your own back.

He doesn’t bother to thank the cursed spirit for giving up the information, instead he turns abruptly on his heel and stomps his way back through the snow towards Uraume. The aforementioned raises their head again when Sukuna approaches, casting a short glance towards the spirit in the background who drags the partially destroyed body away into the shadows of the burnt out village.

“I need you to find out where the Five Empty Generals are currently hiding. Yorozu will be with them.” Uraume bows deeply at his command, but before they can leave he continues. “And find me Kenjaku. Her sudden absence isn’t unnoticed.”

“As you wish, Master Sukuna.” Uraume disappears in a flurry of snow, an icy chill blowing along with their cursed energy.

Sukuna remains standing in the village for a moment longer, his fingers automatically lifting from the warmth of his kimono sleeves to brush against deep cuts into the rocky surface of what was once a reinforcement wall of the village. It buzzes at his touch, and he can just taste on the tip of his tongue the amount of power you had thrown in this direction.

Those long claws at the tips of his fingers curl into the stone, scraping painfully loud before his hand is a tight fist. Sukuna couldn’t feel you anymore, that part that lived within him was quiet and dormant. Not dead but resting, locked away where he couldn’t utilise it. 

Wherever you were being held, Sukuna couldn’t feel you. That slither of himself entwined with your own soul was absent, nullified by something stronger than himself. 

The wall beneath his fist cracks and explodes, sliced haphazardly into nothing but dust and rubble at his feet. He would get you back, even if it was the last thing he did—he would ensure you were back with him, safe.

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