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hyuckmov · 1 year

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haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 2 of 3

wc: 18k (yay!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), a bit of fluff warnings: wet dreams, jerking off, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, making out, praise kink, strength kink (? he's strong...) crying during sex, dirty talk, aftercare...? petnames (baby, princess), and ... names needs to be read after part 1 i think! a/n: shorter warnings list lmfao anyway.... i....this took me awhile but i really hope u enjoy this and the way it reads. let me know what you think and please be kind :) thank you thank you THANK YOU to every single one of you on my taglist and if you've sent me an ask, reblogged, or left a comment. i could not have finished this without u

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — especially to you.

he knew what he was doing each time he showed up around you at a party, love bites staining his skin and hair messy and wild. he noticed the way you recognised the perfume on him with a crinkle of your nose, or the slight flicker of sadness in your eyes when his phone would vibrate against the bedside table, wandering to the names on his phone. he could feel the way your shoulders tensed when he smiled blankly at you, track your movements as you looked away when he was cozying up with someone else.

and most of all – he knew that beyond that, you couldn't go to him for all your hurt. and that was what would be most painful, the knowledge that everything you had to suffer was unjustified, feelings not tied to reason, because he never made you any promises.

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — and he always hoped that his touch could be a good enough apology.

all throughout rehearsals, when they took the trip to the venue, back to when he had woken up that morning, something had stirred in his chest. he was never nervous before shows, but this time he fiddled with his guitar mindlessly, wandering over to the bar and ordering just a few drinks to hopefully dull the way his heart was racing in his chest, alcohol burning a path down his throat. he picked at the way his hair fell over his eyes, re-doing his makeup before the show with the black eyeliner that he couldn't hold without thinking of you. his bandmates watching him carefully, not knowing what had changed. he wouldn't be able to tell them if they'd asked.

it was only when the girl in the bathroom had stumbled away on shaky feet, leaving one last slick touch on his arm as a goodbye, when all his feelings that had ached in him that day came crashing down in his chest, that crushing weight he couldn't ignore each time he tried to breathe.

you had kissed him — and it felt like a promise.

it was this thought that now stung at him, as he watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator flick higher and higher. he had made his way to your apartment as if on autopilot, driving down streets now too familiar. he always knows the hurt he causes you — and he feels it now, like retribution, because even now he has no right to be angry at you. no right to blame you for his hurt, because while he had never made you promises, in reality you hadn't either.

but the reality was he was here now, knocking on your apartment door.

"y/n?"

there's warm light seeping out under your apartment door, he can see all your shoes on the rack outside. jaemin's not home, but you definitely are.

he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth.

"y/n, i know you're home."

his hand curls into a fist, and he hits it against the door, twice. he thinks he can hear something beyond the door, a clink of something like keys, so he raises his voice, the tone of it rough.

"are you happy now?"

mark has told him he gets vindictive when he's hurt or scared, has urged him to think before he speaks.

"does it make you feel like you have the upper hand? standing me up?"

but haechan can't distinguish what he's feeling right now.

"because i don't care at all," he spits, lies he'd never rehearsed, the alcohol mixing with thoughts he didn't even know he had, to inflict the cruelest hurt. "at least i know the girl i fucked didn't feel any different." his voice dips low, cold freezing over each syllable. "i hope you know even if you went, i still would've picked her. it didn't make any difference."

the night is still, and quiet. his words seem to swell in the air, ringing around in his head. he stands in front of the door, head lowered, hand still lingering on cool surface, breaths dragged out of his lungs painfully. he waits for so long, that he wonders if he was speaking to no one at all — if you'd been asleep, if he imagined the sounds beyond the door.

but then there's a soft click, and the door drifts open.

the moment haechan sees you, he feels it like a shot to his chest, because something was terribly wrong.

it's not just the tears running down your cheeks.

your face is blotchy and red, dark circles under your teary eyes, your hair mussed up and tangled. you're wrapped in layers of clothing despite the cool summer night, your body still trembling with cold, and when you speak, your voice is so hoarse and broken that it makes goosebumps break out over his skin — and an achy tone he never wanted to hear from you ever again.

"it didn't make a difference?"

his lips part. he tugs on his jacket, trying to to close it, to pull up his collar a little higher, but it's too late — your eyes are already reading the marks on his skin, drinking in every last detail of him. 5 minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than for you to open the door and see him exactly like this — lipstick smudged lips and fucked out eyes, the smell of fake roses clinging to each fibre of his clothing, the rips in his jeans tugged this way and that.

and all at once he knew — you had wanted to go, and he just accused you of the worst thing. you were going to go, and now he was forcing you to look at him like this. if the trip here made him feel vulnerable and bruised, he knew it must have felt like this for you too on the nights he didn't ask for you — the two of you sharing feelings that you weren't supposed to have, that you couldn't justify.

now haechan sees the way your face crumples, tears gathering on your waterline. you lift your hands to wipe them away, and it's like he can feel the way your chest shakes with wounded sounds and choked sobs, your fingers clenching into fists as you bite your lip to keep from bursting into tears.

"y/n-" he breathes. "are you…is everything —"

"s-so you didn't mean it? when you invited me?" you're trying to steady your breathing. every second that passes where he's watching you fall to pieces in the doorway feels like it's searing into haechan's skin, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing tenfold with guilt. he swallows, as he watches you take a few deep breaths. "i thought… i thought it meant…when you invited m-me you said you weren't making empty promises —"

"i wasn't." he bites his lip, taking a step towards you. "y/n —"

but you back away. "i was going to go, haechan. i was really going to go –"

"i know." he knew now.

" — but i've been sick since yesterday, and it wasn't getting any better, i couldn't leave the house –"

"why didn't you tell me?" he desperately wants to run away, but he knows it's worse for you.

your voice is small. "i don't have your number."

it had slipped his mind. it was something so stupid, something so small – how he never wanted to give you a way to talk to him, or give himself an easy way to access you, didn't want things to be too easy. all of it had slowly built up to that feeling each time he glanced at his phone that night, clutching the lifeless device in his hands.

the last thing he should do, if he ever wanted to see you again, is blame you. he bites back his question of why you didn't ask jaemin for help, wrapping his jacket around his body self-consciously, running a hand through his hair. "i forgot," he whispers. hurt flickers across your face again.

"i d-don't know why i thought this would be different." you wipe at your face, biting your lip again to keep from trembling. "i hoped that maybe, even if i couldn't show up, you'd come here and take care of me. when i heard you outside the door…"

the words have a bitter bite to them, and you spit them out like you hate the taste in your mouth, hate every memory associated with his care.

"i'll take care of you," he pleads, quickly, stepping towards you.

he doesn't know what he expected, if you'd showed up. maybe he'd play for you, and leave with your hand in his. maybe he could have taken you in his car, or in his soft sheets at home. brought you out for a late dinner, sit with you and let you pry him open as you always did. or maybe he'd say nothing at all, and nothing would have changed – he didn't know.

his touch has always been his apology, always his way of reaching you through the only sure thing the both of you wanted from each other. but the look on your face tells him that the brush of his fingertips against your skin is only cruelty.

"you're fucked up if you think i'm letting you take care of me now," your voice is grating, rough on his skin.

"but i-"

"you'll hold me like this? force me to stare at the marks on your chest? breathe the perfume that isn't yours?" your tone is harsh and accusatory. he takes it all. "what were you going to do, if i showed?"

and for once, haechan can't help but be honest. "i don't know," he mumbles, and he sees the words hit you like a strike to your face.

"you knew i wanted more," you whisper. "you knew i wanted to be close to you, but you always…you always –"

"wanted?" he asks, quietly.

"you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. whatever person lies behind all that…" your tears have stopped, your voice unfeeling. the numbness in you mirrors his own. "i want nothing to do with him."

he can't think of anything to say. he reaches out a hand, and for a moment you let his fingers graze your arm, fear and hurt in the way they curl around your wrist, begging you to hold on to him too. you're scaring him, and he doesn't know how to go back, but he knows he deserves everything you're saying to him. deserves the way you shake free of his hold and close the door, his feet stumbling over themselves as he backs away.

you said you didn't want to know him, that you didn't know him at all. but he can't help thinking that's not true, because you knew him enough to know exactly how to hurt him through the walls, through the boy he pretended to be, right through his chest and past his ribcage, right into his aching heart.

—

ever since your fever broke, your life had been quiet.

you go to all your classes. you cut down on coffee by getting sleep at night. you take walks with jaemin around the neighborhood, falling back into old routines. movie nights, and grocery trips. he was coddling you, and you felt it every day — coming home to warm meals, the way he was more forgiving over little disputes. you didn't deserve it, watching him slip out of the front door quietly, camera bag slung over his shoulder.

you didn't deserve it, because you ached to follow.

some part of you was still trapped inside your room, heady and aching, desperately trying to reach him. needing his apology, needing him to recognise the way he hurt you. you couldn't look for answers in your memories, but you played each scene back in your mind like a looping film reel, letting images suffocate you — his jacket falling open, love bites marking his skin, all the times he's slipped from your grasp. and yet, other fragments come back too — the warmth of his hand on yours in the car, the slight tilt of his head as he brought his gaze level with yours, seeking you out when things got too much. his quiet answers in the dark, the slow smile that spread across his face that made you glow, knowing you'd made him happy.

"he got off lightly," you tell jaemin one night, the both of you on the floor by the couch. ice cream and wine drip condensation on the table-top, and the both of you are too heavy with the rush of sugar and alcohol, the clock ticking in the silence of the room as you sit.

"you just want to see him again," he'd replied, quietly. "don't you?"

"i just wish we could have talked." your voice is small. you and haechan never truly talked, except for some nights in the dark, lying in his arms afraid to breathe, afraid of breaking the tenderness that swelled in the room, afraid of turning on the lights to see who you were holding in the shadows.

"and then what? you'd be together?" jaemin glances over at you, and the concern in his eyes makes you shrink back even more. you were supposed to be doing better. everything in your life was right, it was exactly the way it should be — but why did you feel empty?

"then i'd at least have closure," you mumble. "i'm never going to get any answers unless i talk to him."

a brief expression of discomfort crosses jaemin's face, but it's gone when you blink.

"i just don't want you to see him again, and forget all the ways he hurt you."

you don't say a word. both of you knew that it was something too likely to happen.

—

it's dark in haechan's room. the boy liked it shadowy, black-out curtains drawn over the windows, the air cool from air-conditioning, an air humidifier spewing light blue mist in the corner. the boy sitting in bed had his guitar in his lap, picking at the strings quietly, his phone face-up on the bed next to him, recording his ideas. he was swaddled in a large hoodie, swallowing his frame, shorts riding high on his thighs as he curls into himself.

he doesn't look up when mark shuffles in, closing the door behind him quietly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the low light.

"jaemin's outside."

haechan nods. "i heard you." his voice is a soft sound, boyish. mark has heard it enough growing up, that he knows haechan is scared. he knows haechan is waiting for answers, waiting for the verdict.

"he says he'll only continue to work with us if you stop seeing… y/n."

the name trips in his mouth, clumsy. it feels strange to use it, especially around haechan, who knows you more than any of them do, like he's saying something he's not allowed to, a boy using an expletive he doesn't understand. haechan's body tenses when he hears your name in mark's voice, predictable, almost laughable — the slight tightening of his nimble fingers on the neck of the guitar, slip of his fingers on the guitar pick.

"okay." and the boy goes back to playing.

"you'll stop seeing y/n?"

"yeah." mark moves closer to the bed, sees haechan's lower lip caught in his teeth.

"haechan, stop."

the boy shakes his head roughly, plucking at the strings a little harder.

"what happened? what happened between you and y/n?"

"i'll stop seeing her."

"stop acting like i don't know you," mark mumbles, finally sitting down on the bed. haechan stills, as mark pulls the guitar away from him, his hands going limp as he lets mark set it down at the foot of the bed. "i hate it when you do that."

"i'm sorry." a beat, then haechan buries his face in his hands, pulling at his features, before letting his arms drop down to the bed again. "could you…could you at least tell her?"

"tell her what?"

"that jaemin told me to stay away." haechan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, head still lowered. "i…i shouldn't be the one avoiding her. she should be avoiding me."

"is there a difference?"

"yeah." he mumbles his words, plush lips barely forming each syllable. "because i hurt her. i can't hurt her and then ignore her…that's…that's not right."

"so you want to keep seeing her?"

"i just want…" his voice is hollow, and when he looks up at mark — the dim light in the room catching on the features of his face, mark can finally see the way his lips were raw, skin torn and bitten. his eyes, usually sharp and piercing, are puffy and swollen from crying, dazed pupils blinking up at him. "mark, i don't think i've ever hurt someone like this before."

mark wonders what he could have done, but he doesn't ask. "do you want to make it right?"

"i don't know how." he swallows, throat bobbing. "i don't know if i can."

"maybe avoiding her isn't the best thing…" mark starts, putting a hand on haechan's arm, but haechan flinches.

"the band will kill me. jeno will kill me." mark opens his mouth to argue, but already haechan is leaning back against the headboard, head lowered and looking down at his lap. "i'll do it. i won't see her again."

"it'll be fine" mark reassures, softly. "in a few weeks, after a few more people, you'll forget all about her."

neither of them really believed it.

—

as jaemin sits on the couch — jeno sprawled on an armchair with jisung perched on the armrest, mark sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he thinks about how these boys have become his close friends. he fits in with them in a way he never has with his other clients — evenings spent photographing them, understanding them through the lens of his camera. cycling trips with jeno, bringing out mark's competitive streak as they drank in the kitchen, babying jisung and taking care of him when the other bandmates weren't around to do so.

and of course, getting to know haechan — teaching him how to use a camera, chatting with him easily about the city. if jaemin was to be honest, haechan intimidated him a little with how guarded he was, every sentence he spoke to jaemin felt like it'd been turned over a million times in his head, each word careful and poised. he also disappeared for long periods of time, sometimes never there during parties.

now jaemin knew what the time had been spent on. who he'd spent it on.

"we're really sorry." it's mark who speaks up first. jisung nods in agreement, while jeno looks on.

"i don't need you to be sorry," mumbles jaemin. "it's not your fault."

"still…" mark scratches the back of his close-cropped hair tentatively. "he mentioned it."

"what did he say?"

"he didn't tell us everything," jisung says, voice hushed. his hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head in thought. "mostly just told us to stay away."

"did he sound like he wanted them to be exclusive?"

mark and jisung exchange a glance, but it's jeno's voice that answers just as mark's lips part.

"no." when jisung bites his lip, jeno raises his eyebrows, annoyed. "are you kidding? he just said he fucked her more often, and that we should fuck off."

jisung looked wounded. "he didn't say that."

"but that's what he meant."

"mark?"

jaemin calls out to the boy, bringing him out of his thoughts. mark was staring at his own hands, a frown creasing his face.

"haechan agreed," he says, slowly. your name lingers on the tip of his tongue as he says it, like he's tasting the sound, the unfamiliarity of it in his mouth. "i…i think i might know what's going on with haechan, but it's up to him to explain, not me."

"so he won't see her anymore?"

the words come easily to jaemin. he knew it was the deal he was going to make the moment he texted mark to ask if they could talk. he was willing to lose his growing friendship with the rest of the boys if it could give you peace, if all of you could go back to the way things were.

he think back to how he found you — struggling to head out of the door the previous day, barely able to make it to the door, the fever burning up your brain and making your bones ache. he thinks of coming back home to you after he'd went to the pharmacy to get you medicine, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately knowing that something had changed, from the tears streaming down your face.

"how did this happen?"

"he came to see me" you mumble, struggling with the sleeves of the thick sweater you were trying to pull your arms through. the moment you straighten, you wince as a dull pain throbbed through your head, hunching over again as stars blinked in your vision.

"haechan?"

he sets down the bag of medicine on the kitchen counter, picking up the thermometer and pointing it at your forehead. the light on the screen blinks red, and his eyebrows furrow, the displeased expression on his face only growing stronger.

"why did you open the door?" he asks, slowly. "i thought we talked about this."

"i thought…." your voice is scratchy, as pressure seems to rise inside your skull, pain that made your eyes tear up. it's laughable that you thought he would take care of you, and instead he ripped you to pieces. tears well up in your eyes again, and your lips part, only to let out a small sob.

he grips onto your arm, gently but firmly, steering you back towards your room. you don't have any strength to fight back, it felt like the temperature in the room was at freezing point even though jaemin was only wearing a thin shirt and shorts, and the ache in your bones made every movement shoot pain through your nerves. even after lying down on your bed, swaddled in blankets, the dim light slightly easing the pain in your head, you were too weak to lift your head, stretching your fingers out over the blanket and crawling towards where jaemin's hand rested on the sheets.

he held your hand and listened to you talk, knowing you needed to let it all out. he didn't judge, he didn't make faces. just listened with his eyes closed as you told him about meeting haechan, the way he pulled you away from everyone else and how you'd followed. he observed you quietly through his lashes as you sniffled, breaths breaking up your words.

the story got harder to tell when you recounted moments of his tenderness — when he'd call you his, when he took care of you, when he'd promise to be harsh with you but never went through with it, the way his face fell when you cried. you stuttered and hesitated through it all, because you didn't know if any of it was real or just imagined.

jaemin knows he could have hurt you further — broken every last illusion, pierced through the image of haechan you had in your head. but he didn't have the heart to, so this was the best he could do — making sure it stopped.

"it's done," mark nods, but he looks unhappy.

jaemin doesn't feel the weight lift from his chest like he thought it would. he feels jisung move to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder as he observes his face.

"i'm really sorry," he mumbles, lips barely moving.

"it's not your fault," jaemin replies, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

—

haechan is dreaming again.

except it's more memory than dream, the way you're laid up against the pillows, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaves kisses on your inner thighs. it's so vivid, the way you taste, the twitch of your muscles as you tense around him, the small gasp as he pulls away to sit back on his knees.

"please-" you whimper, needy from being teased. scrabbling, you bring your knees to your chest, hands trembling as you hook them on your thighs, tears smearing your cheeks with a dewy glow. you were trying to keep your voice quiet, small sounds barely escaping your lips as you bit down on them, pleading with him through murmurs and barely coherent words. his shirt on your body crinkled everywhere from how he'd been grabbing at it, the long sleeves falling over your palms. it was straight out of a wet dream, which it now was, as you begged him to fuck you, your wet folds slick with spit and arousal as you bared yourself to him, pleading with him to sink into you.

in memory, he croons. he gives you what you asked for — pressing your weight into the mattress as he pushes into you, feel you pulse around him as he goes in hard and deep, feel your body trembling against his.

but in dream, he can be honest enough with himself to admit that it scares him when you cry. that his stomach twists when he hears you beg, like missing a step on a staircase, a second where he's rushing into nothing — not knowing if he'd made you like this, not knowing if he was hurting you. from the girl shaking against him, clumsy hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and you now — hips rocking into nothing, desperate for him.

"i'm here," he whispers, gently taking your hands and slowly lowering your legs down to the bed. he kisses you until your breathing calms and slows, your hands now on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks. he likes how you touch him as if you could ever bruise him, loving brushes of your fingertips, urgency making your fingers curl into his skin, hesitant scratches on his shoulders that your hands skitter away from.

in dream, he pushes into you slowly, watching the way your lips part, breath caught in your chest, eyes fluttering closed as you take him in. wet sounds fill the room as he begins to move his hips, your face shyly tucked into his chest, your ankles sweetly hooked against his lower back as you melt together. the feelings in his chest intensifying the pleasure he feels from you wrapped around him. his eyes meet yours as you blink up at him, and it's so real — the way you glow against the sheets of his bed, eyes all soft and sparkling with tenderness.

but then he wakes in the same bed: the feeling of you under him, the crash of his heartbeat in his chest, all of it hanging in the dark, a lingering tattoo on his body.

—

so it's almost like a dream, when he opens the door to the stranger's bedroom, to see you slumped on the floor.

the din from below echoes through the hall, the sounds of the overwhelming crowd seeping into the room and reminding him of why he was here. he'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone — the constant eyes on him making him feel self-conscious and jumpy.

back at the apartment, jeno had said he wasn't being like himself, that he hadn't been himself in a long time, the memory of his laugh ringing in haechan's ears as he climbed upstairs. when has a crowd ever bothered you? when have you ever hated attention?

he didn't know the answers.

now haechan stands in the doorway, not believing his eyes. there was no way you'd known he would be here, alone. you're curled in on yourself on the floor, leaning against the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, eyes shut. your body is still, and for just a while longer he lets himself watch you for just a moment — drink in every single detail he'd missed even if it felt like teasing open his own wounds with fingers caked in salt. the rise and fall of your chest, your hair mussed up and falling over your face, the slope of your shoulders, your arms.

and suddenly he's back in his bed, your weight the only thing he was sure of against his chest, drunk on the soft sounds you made, lips barely forming his name.

you don't know he's here yet. he could walk away, leave you by yourself. but something in him told him he couldn't leave you like this in the middle of a party, barely conscious in a stranger's bedroom. before he knows what he's doing, before he can fathom the consequences, he's kneeling before you, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your body. you reek of alcohol, stirring when you feel the weight of the leather on your body, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth, eyelashes feeling stuck to your cheeks as you struggle to open your eyes.

"y/n?" haechan whispers, choking on the sound of your name.

"haech-" you trail off, fingers coming up to rub your eyes sleepily, the jacket slipping slightly. "haechan." it's the way you say it, like your tongue is too afraid to form the syllables, like something you can't bear to say.

"i-i'm going to find someone," he mumbles, backing away from you, clumsily trying to get to his feet. "you stay here, i'll –"

"don't go-" the words almost get lost from the way you're slurring, lips barely moving, shaking your head as you reach for him again. your fingers slip on the sleeve of his shirt, before curling and holding on tight. "please don't leave."

"i…" pain flickers over his features. he bites his lower lip, body moving towards yours instinctively, your hand crawling up his sleeve and grasping for his arm, fingers digging to the bone as you tremble. but then he feels your breath on his neck, and he pulls away again.

"what happened, y/n? did someone hurt you?" he feels like a hypocrite.

"no," you say, meekly. "i think i just had too much to drink."

"did you come with jaemin?"

you shake your head, nuzzling into him in a way that makes his heart pulse painfully in his chest. "i don't know anyone here."

he still thinks he should get help from any of the girls downstairs. even as you meld yourself a little closer to him, he's almost certain you wouldn't be acting this way if you were sober.

"y/n, i can't. please just let me call jaemin–"

"want you here." you reach for him again, trying to pull him impossibly closer, fitting his body against yours. "don't want jaemin to see me like this."

it dawns on him that besides jaemin, he was the only one you felt comfortable around like this. it wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of you when you were vulnerable or weak, and his body reacts out of habit — pulling you into his arms, his hands gently patting your back as you blink back tears in the crook of his neck. but it still didn't feel right, knowing he was the one who had caused this, and yet he was here holding you.

"let me talk to someone downstairs – i'll see if they can take you home," he murmurs. you bury your face deeper in his neck, shaking your head. "just 5 minutes, okay? i just need 5 minutes —"

"don't want someone to bring me home," you rasp, and his gut twists painfully when i feels your tears damp on his skin. "i don't want to go back to my place. i want to go with you."

"you're going to regret this," he says, softly. to him it's the truth you're not sober enough to see, even if it hurt to tell you. "you don't really want this, y/n."

"is it because you want to find someone else?" your words are soft-edged, lips forming the words carefully, but it pierces him all the same. "is it- is it because you want to bring someone else home?"

"no," he answers, quiet. "i haven't…not in a while."

"so you just don't want to be around me?"

his mind is racing, desperately trying to think of how he could help you, but his mind was coming up with nothing. that same feeling he always had around you — protectiveness intersecting with the ache in his chest everytime your eyes met his, all of it roaring in his ears, louder than the cacophony from any party. for all the times he's claimed he knew what was good for you, he's begun to realise that he has a terrible grasp on how not to hurt you.

"you don't want to be around me," he corrects, but his fate is sealed when you let out a small sob, muffled against his shirt.

and he takes you home.

—

you watch him through your lashes, as he swipes a cotton pad on your face, cleaning off your makeup.

"close your eyes," he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips from how hard he was concentrating, trying to be gentle with you. his touches are far too light, and you're sure your makeup is still on your face, but you let your lashes flutter shut anyway, feeling a featherlight brush against your eyelid as he holds it against your eye. dropping the used pad into a small bin, he brings a warm, damp towel up to your face, the material of it soft against your skin.

"can you brush your teeth?" he holds a toothbrush up to your face, but he withdraws it once your hands come up to hold it, completely misjudging the distance and landing on his shoulders instead. "open," he coaxes, parting his own lips so you'd mimic him. he smiles fondly as you open your mouth wide, a hand coming up to hold your face in place. "good girl," he mumbles, and you preen at the praise that shines through your drunken haze, following his instructions to rinse out your mouth.

there's a short pause. having brushed out your hair, removed your makeup and brushed your teeth, the only thing to do next was to get you to bed.

your legs squeeze around his hips, your back against the mirror on his bathroom counter. "haechan," you mumble, tipsiness making you swallow your words. "don't…my clothes…"

"i'll leave them on," he promises, ignoring the way your tight dress looks uncomfortable and unclean to sleep in. "don't worry." of course you don't feel comfortable around him, not after everything.

but for some reason, you're shaking your head, two clumsy hands closing in on one of his and guiding them to your back. "take them off. please–" you add, when he hesitates. "please help me."

"of course," he murmurs, familiarity sparking in his fingertips as they grasp for the zipper, a sense of dejavu in how he drags it down your spine slowly, your back arching slightly. you look at him, drink in the proximity like the first taste of rain after a heatwave — the pretty cut of his eyes, the way his pupils float upwards as he focuses on your back through the mirror. the round tip of his nose, and finally the plushness of his heart-shaped lips. it feels like reprieve, the ache in you finally soothed by the way his breath fans over your cheeks, a gentle balm on an open wound. you lean forward slightly into him as if drawn by a magnetic field, one of your hands coming up to trace the arches of his cupid's bow.

"y/n?" you can feel his lips move, soft like rose petals on your fingertips. "what are you doing?"

"you haven't called me baby all night," you blurt out. "or…or princess." your thumb dips to brush against his lower lip, before he's catching hold of your hand and pulling it away from his face gently.

"i shouldn't," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your fingertips before letting go. "i can't."

your dress has gone loose around your body, and you push the sleeves off your shoulders with your hands, letting the fabric drop to your waist. you observe him, watching the way he swallows, throat bobbing when his eyes dart to your chest, lace draped over your curves.

"haechan," you murmur, but then he turns, hands now fumbling with a pile of his clean clothes. he holds out a clean shirt to you, bunching it up at the collar to slip your head through it, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

"i want that one," you say, softly, pointing to a long sleeved shirt you'd remembered wearing before in the room he'd shared with the boys. something flickers in his eyes, his hands curling into fists before he picks it up. he's putting it over your head, the soft cotton hanging off your shoulders, his hands coming close to your body to guide your arms into the sleeves, until you can't take it anymore.

"haechan, don't you want me?"

his lips part, his hands stilling, slowly unfurling his grasp on you and placing his palms on the counter. "y/n…"

"why aren't you-" you look up at him, biting your lip, your tongue too slow to form the thoughts your mind was racing with. "why haven't you touched me yet? do you not want me like this?"

his heart splinters and fractures. you were so used to it — used to all his touches leading to kisses, kisses leading to him all over your body. "you're drunk." it's the only thing he can say.

"i know what i'm doing," you fire back, but your words lilt and smear together. "ask me anything and i can answer you right now."

but all he does is resume putting your arms through the sleeves, your limbs pliant against him as always, and soon you're completely covered up, and he can breathe a little easier. his strong arms grip your waist, and you're like a ragdoll in his grip as he guides you to stand, the dress at your hips falling, the shirt brushing the top of your thighs.

it gets worse when he sets you down in his bed. in another universe, this might be a moment of bliss for him, something romantic and sweet in the way your body curves against his pillows, sinking down into them and blinking up at him hazily. but guilt still thunders in his chest, his vision split by lightning bolts of fear. you would wake up hating him. he would never stop hurting you. you would never want to see him again.

your arms slide up his, grasping for him. "please," you plead, your voice small. "what did i do wrong? why don't you want to touch me?"

"you didn't do any wrong," he murmurs, as he lets his weight sink into bed next to you, feel you curl up against him. just for a minute he tells himself — just until you fall asleep. your weight on his chest feeling like someone had doused his body with warmth, a comfort that made his eyes prickle with tears. "y/n, you're perfect," he whispers, the words melting into the dark.

"don't say that." he feels tears wet against the soft fabric of his shirt over his chest. "stop saying my name."

"baby," he amends. "sweetheart, go to sleep."

you hum. "haechan."

"don't," he echoes.

"what's wrong?" you mumble, your question heavy with sleep.

he grips onto you tighter, holding you fiercely as tears cloud his vision.

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "i'm so so so sorry." when you don't respond, he nuzzles into your hair, freckling wet kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry," he repeats, long after you've fallen asleep.

—

you wake up to the sound of laughter ringing out against the walls.

the room is as dim as it was last night — dark curtains drawn and the lights turned off. time seemed to have come to a standstill, you couldn't tell if it had been days or weeks or even months since you'd fallen asleep. your body ached, still heavy with sleep while your mind cleared — it had been a while since you've slept this well.

blinking your eyes open, you slowly sit up, feeling sheets warm and soft against your skin. you sit there, dazed, getting your bearings as you survey the unfamiliar room again. your clothes, folded on a small couch next to the window. your jewelry on the bedside table, your phone plugged in to the charger.

the only thing you recognised was the long sleeved shirt unmistakeable on your body, the familiar smell of perfume and body lotion in every fiber of the sheets.

stumbling over to the bathroom, the warm light brings back every memory — the party, the drinks, stumbling upstairs into a room as your consciousness slipped away, and then haechan, haechan, haechan. haechan leading you out of the party, taking you home in his car, taking care of you. your fingers ghost over your forehead, where you swear he kissed you just before you woke up.

you turn off the tap. in the silence, there's another round of giggles, bright like a child's, and then —

"baby, don't move!"

haechan's voice rings lighter than you've ever heard it, and the smile in it is evident. this is a voice without shadows, fondness in every lilt and inflection. with something like urgency, you dry your hands on your shirt, padding out of his room, hesitantly blinking into the sunlit living room.

you almost don't believe your eyes.

haechan is sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pink lips stuck out in a pout. sitting on the floor, cross-legged between his knees, was a little girl — her hands busy with a doll, while her own hair was being meticulously braided and arranged by the boy…whose head snaps up the moment he hears the creak of the door.

"you're awake," he blurts out, and the girl looks up.

"hi!" she waves shyly, leaning forward towards you, but whining as the motion tugs on her hair instead. "hyuck! it hurts…"

his eyes finally dart away from yours. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, lightly massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers.

"you're making it messy —"

"right, sorry." he grabs a sparkly pink hairbrush and combs through her hair gently, beginning to rebraid. the girl goes back to her doll, settling back down and quickly losing interest in you.

his eyes flick up to yours again, the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks. "did you sleep well?"

you nod, feeling like you'd walked in on something you weren't supposed to.

haechan studies your face, a strand of hair falling from his grasp before he tucks it in diligently. "are you hungover? there were painkillers on the bedside table, i don't know if you saw…"

"i'm fine," you croak out.

"and there's breakfast on the table," he murmurs, ducking his head back down to focus on the impressive french braid he was attempting. he looks back up when he feels you staring, as if fixed to the ground beneath your feet.

"is she…?"

"this is my baby sister," he answers, smiling softly. "sorry, i didn't know she was coming over today. her kindergarten is near here so sometimes i walk her to school." and then, with a nod towards the table, "please eat — i made too many sandwiches."

the girl smiles, mumbling softly to herself. "hyuckie makes the best sandwiches."

you can see 'hyuckie' blush at that, his lips pressed together tightly to keep in his smile as he pokes the little girl's cheek softly, going back to the braid. you cross over to the dining table, feet shuffling slowly, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the two siblings, watching the fondness in haechan's eyes. quietly pulling out a chair, you sit down and pick up a sandwich, holding it gingerly between your fingers.

a hushed voice breaks the silence, and you turn to see his sister, cupping her lips against haechan's ear whispering so loud that her words fill the room. "is she your friend?" the girl asks, pointing her pinky finger at you, head tilted with curiosity. haechan's head tilts too, but his eyes wander over to yours as he hesitates.

"yes, she's my friend," he says, slowly. "we're…good friends." sliding the hair ties from his wrist, he finally finishes tying off the braid, before giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "you can play for 5 more minutes okay? hyuckie needs to talk to his friend."

her round eyes blink at you as she slowly gets to her feet, before tottering over to the window, where another pile of dolls lay. haechan clears his throat, before shuffling over to you and sitting down in a chair next to yours.

although he adjusts himself to face you, he keeps his distance – legs drawn in under the chair, hands placed carefully on his knees in a way you'd never seen him do before. it feels like the space between the both of you spans for entire oceans and continents, an invisible force field that holds weight against your limbs, keeping you from leaning in, incapable of even moving your fingertips.

"are you sure you're okay?"

he looks at you — his expression soft like wax melting around a candle wick.

"do you…do you remember how you got here?"

you nod, taking a deep breath. "the party?"

"i'm sorry that you're here like this," he says, quietly. "i didn't know you were going to be there, i wasn't trying to corner you, i swear."

you nod, dazed.

"are you upset with me? for bringing you here?" at the conflict in your expression, he adds on, hurriedly, "i-i know it wasn't the best thing to do. i could've called jaemin, or mark, or anyone downstairs…it's just that i didn't know…i didn't know if it would be okay–"

" — i'm not upset," you cut him off, the pressure easing as you raise a hand jerkily to place it over his. "i believe you. thank you for taking care of me last night."

he exhales slowly, and when he speaks he sounds even more troubled than before. "you…you shouldn't thank me. you shouldn't thank me for anything."

his eyes dart over to his little sister, checking in on her, and the sense that you're intruding on something creeps up on you again.

haechan had been right — there was so much of him you didn't know. you hardly recognised the boy sitting beside you, despite a vague sense of comfort and familiarity in the slightest traces of his expression, the look in his eyes, his thumb absentmindedly stroking yours. it scared you.

you withdraw your hand, pushing your chair a little further from his, the scrape of it dissonant in your ears. "so, uh, i'll just wait downstairs for the taxi if you don't feel comfortable —"

"taxi?" he looks at you, confused.

"i…i should go now, right?"

"i wasn't going to ask you to go," he says, his voice small. "i was…i was hoping we could talk."

"talk?" you echo. after weeks of nothing? "now?"

"i mean, not right now-" he glances over at the clock, wincing. "but can you stay today?"

there's a pause. you don't think you've ever been able to read him — you've spent days second-guessing every emotion you thought he had, the meaning behind each expression, whether he ever told the truth. but something about him like this makes you hesitate, made your breath catch in your throat. all the ways you've tried to learn how to be immune to his words and his touch slowly melting away, because that was your defense against the version of haechan you thought you knew before.

"i'll understand if you say no," he says, quietly. "but i have things i need to say to you. please."

you don't know what to do.

"hyuckie?"

you both turn. haechan's baby sister is waddling over, her fist clenched around her hair ties as the last remnants of the french braid unravel from her head. she sniffles. "it fell."

haechan's eyes dart back to you quickly, before refocusing his attention away. "it's okay-" he soothes, taking the hair ties from her as he swipes the pad of his thumb on her cheek, brushing off the teardrops that have begun to spill from her lashes. his lips jut out into a pout, his head tilting to meet her gaze. "let's just tie it up and go to school, hm?"

"but i want it in a braid…"

"i can't finish it in time," he says, gently, touching the strands of her hair. "i'm sorry. i promise, we'll do it next time, okay?"

her lip wobbles. "but…"

"let me help," you say, suddenly.

he turns, round eyes wide. "what?"

"i'll do her hair. you still need to get her things right?"

he nods, a little dazed. "really?"

"i'll stay," you murmur, and you slip the hair ties from his loose fingers and sling them around your wrist. "i need to talk to you too."

you can feel his eyes on you as he coaxes his sister towards you, the girl shyly hiding her face in your hands as you swiftly braid two pigtails down her back. he still watches you out of the corner of his eye as he packs her bag, noting the way you listen to her babble on about her days at the school, the way you help adjust the straps of her backpack onto her tiny frame.

he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you think you know the feeling.

—

the bed dips under his weight as he sits down.

"hey," you hear him murmur, and you stir. his hair falls over his face, and he's changed out of his clothes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perches on his dainty nose. it's foreign, and new…until he pushes back his hair boyishly with an open palm, flicking his head like a puppy after a swim, and the skip in your heartbeat feels all too familiar in your ribcage.

"did you get her to school?"

he nods. "i got us lunch too. and stopped to get groceries." studying your face, he leans in. "i didn't want to wake you up so soon. do you feel better?"

you hum. the morning now seemed like just a dream — haechan and his sister, the breakfast sandwiches. he'd left to walk her to school, telling you to rest in his bed until he got home. now, late afternoon light seeps into the room through the open door, until haechan gets up to close it, once again sealing the room in cozy darkness.

"may i…?" he lifts up the corner of the covers, and you nod, easing yourself to the side as he gets into bed, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes trained on his lap. you lay on your side, that same feeling — as if you couldn't reach out and touch him, as if he existed in a world of his own without you, slowly settling in your body like a familiar ache.

but then there's a shift — and you can feel his gaze warm on your skin. you blink up at him, his pupils focused on yours, pools of the darkest molten brown sucking you into his world. he wets his lips with his tongue nervously, taking a shuddering breath.

"y/n, i'm really sorry."

your heart squeezes a little in your chest. "for?"

"for what i said that night…when i thought…when you didn't show up." he takes another breath. "and for not trusting you, for going to your place after i...." his fists clench the fabrics of the sheets, twisting it in his hands.

you bite your lip. "haechan —"

" — i'm not done." he swallows, voice dipping low. "you were right. i knew you wanted more, i always knew exactly when i hurt you. but i never tried…i never tried to change anything. i'm sorry." his hands reach towards yours for a second, but he hesitates, dropping them back on his lap.

"what would you have changed?" you ask, softly.

"i could have stopped seeing you," he murmurs.

you smile, sadly. "i'm not convinced that would have hurt any less." that was something you knew for sure.

"and i don't think i could have stopped myself," he admits.

"haechan," his eyes move to yours. "why did you invite me?" his breathing picks up, and you want desperately to comfort him, to curl up on his lap and soothe him, but you knew the both of you were afraid of what would happen if you touched. knew the possibility that you'd try to find answers in skin-on-skin, lips-on-lips, and the possibility that it would all be lost in translation again.

"i'm sorry, –" he looks at you sadly. "i think i was just trying to get you to stay. i…" he chews on his lip, glasses sliding a little lower on his slender nose bridge as his head dips. "i regret what i said, but some of it was true. i don't know what i would have done, and i don't think i was ready for…for what you thought it was."

you nod, cheek rubbing against soft sheets, thinking about what he said. "haechan, i don't regret not going. i only wished i'd done it intentionally."

"yeah?" he whispers. the sound sticks in his throat.

"if you hadn't found me yesterday…would you still have looked for me? talked to me? i'm not hurt that you didn't find me sooner-" you cut in, when you see the guilt on his features, the parting of his lips in apology. "time apart….time apart was good. i needed it to clear my head. i….i couldn't stop myself around you."

he doesn't say anything, for a while. "jaemin came over," he says, slowly. "and he said i couldn't talk to you or he would stop working with the band and it was decided for me."

"he what?"

haechan shakes his head. "i don't blame him. i'm not going to pretend that i couldn't have still talked to you if i really wanted to. i'm selfish enough to do that, i'll admit. i didn't reach out because i didn't know what to say, and i didn't know what i wanted."

"and now?"

he closes his eyes. "time apart was good," he murmurs, echoing your words. "it gave me a chance to go back to a time before."

your breath catches.

" — but i couldn't. i don't think i can take it any longer. i missed you, y/n. i miss you now, even as you're here."

"you miss me?"

something bothered you about it, hearing him say those words. when he'd pulled you away repeatedly in the weeks you've known each other, when he came for you time and time again, was that missing you too? were things different now?

"i miss spending time with you," he says, almost timidly. "not just…not just sex. everything. i know it's selfish…" his eyes blink open, and he pushed his glasses up, avoiding your gaze. "i didn't mean to pressure you to come back. you can forget i said that."

he shakes his head, trying to clear it.

"i just wanted to tell you i'm sorry for hurting you."

you'd never dared hope for a real apology from him. some part of you expected, or even secretly wished, he would find you again after that night, lie through his teeth to win you back. and in the weeks that followed, you took his silence to mean he didn't even care enough to do that.

and now here you were, sitting with him. after days and nights, he's had time to really mean his words — he wasn't himself, which is maybe why you believed he was telling the truth.

you think you know now, why he refused to let you in. why he hadn't wanted to take your first time, something so intimate and romantic that it would have pierced right through the layers he'd built up around himself. why he drew away so many nights when your touch lingered on each others' skin, when you wanted him to stay.

"haechan," you say, quietly. "i need you to understand that i…that i've learned how to be hurt by you. i don't want to go back to how we were before."

he nods, quickly. "of course."

"and…you say you knew i wanted more. so you know that i wanted to be with you…romantically, right?"

"i know." the words are so quiet, you barely catch them.

"if…if i come back, i don't think i want that anymore." you say, gentle, but firm. jaemin was right — you couldn't let yourself forget all the ways he hurt you. "i associate us with too much hurt. i can't trust you with my heart, can you understand that?"

there's silence. he's nodding, but when his lips part, he's wordless.

"haechan?"

"i understand," he murmurs. "i'm…i didn't…" he breaks off, fiddling with the covers, lip caught in his teeth. "whatever happens next will only happen on your terms," he says, softly. "i only want to do what you want to do, okay?"

your brow furrows. "but haechan, if you don't feel comfortable with something –"

"i'm fine as long as you still want to see me," he whispers.

"if you don't want to let me in, i won't push anymore." you realize you truly mean it when you make the offer out loud. even if it hurt to know that you may never see him like this again, you press on, jaemin's advice resurfacing in your mind again. "you don't owe me any more of yourself. if you want it to just be sex, we can do that – but you have to commit to it too. so no more getting jealous, or —"

" – that's not possible."

"you're not making any sense." you should've been hurt, but sitting here now — looking at him, the way he melts into his room, fuzzy at the edges, soft curves of his face, you can't feel any of it. finally, you're beginning to see that he's just as lost as you are. his head is still bowed low, taking in every word you say like a weight he carries upon him.

"it's not possible because you already know me. you know enough of me that i couldn't perform with you in the crowd, can't be myself around you at a party. i can't stand there onstage, do things like eyefuck girls and play the guitar and pretend to be someone else, while feeling your eyes on me. you'd see right through me."

he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, his voice achy and raw. and as you look up at him, tears are smudging on his waterline, his cheeks glistening as he sniffles.

"i said i'd be fine with anything," he breathes shakily, as he starts to cry, sharp inhales punctuating his words. "and i am, i really am. i-i'm not in the position to set terms. it's fine if you don't want to know me, but i can't pretend we're just strangers anymore. i won't be able to."

words you'd said to him — you can't think i still want to know you, after everything.

for a moment, you entertain the idea that you've hurt him too.

"i don't think i can pretend either," you murmur. "i hated it when you pretended like you didn't know me. like you'd never seen me before."

i'm s-sorry, he chokes, but the syllables scattered across his sobs. he claps a hand to his mouth as his breathing speeds up even more, tears wetting his shirt, achy sounds muffled against his palm. and finally you sit up, limbs still clumsy and heavy from sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, and arm slung over his chest, another around his waist, just like you wanted to all this time.

his breath shudders against your palms, warm body against your skin. you bury your face in his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him that changed no matter who he was or whoever he was pretending to be, until his breathing slows and his sobs come to a shaky stop.

"i missed you too, haechan," you breathe. he shakes his head. "i did-" you insist, but he shakes his head again, a hand coming to touch your arm on his waist, squeezing tight.

"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers.

"donghyuck," you correct, stroking the side of his cheek lovingly, your fingertip stained with his tears. "i missed you."

"i missed you too." he says it like the words are dangerous, hushed and quiet. "are you…are you really coming back to me?"

"do you think we can be friends?" you ask, tentatively. not lovers, not strangers. this was the only in-between you knew that could do justice to the ways you knew each other, the only way you could see yourself holding on to him now.

he looks at you for a long time, until you forget your question. his nose is tinted pink, his eyes still watery as he drowns in his thoughts.

he swallows. "are you sure?" he asks, softly. "your first time being with someone…and it's not even a real relationship."

"you're doing that thing again," you murmur. "where you tell me what's good for me. how i should do things." you soften when you look up, seeing the guilt in his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. "i'm asking you again," you say, slowly. "do you think we can be friends?"��

this time, he nods. "yeah," he murmurs. "friends who…"

you nod too, feeling your cheeks burn, and then you lean in — slotting your lips against his.

for a second, he doesn't kiss you back, and your stomach swoops.

but then his mouth is moving against yours, soft and gentle. a close-lipped kiss, just the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses together, your eyes slowly fluttering shut to focus on the feeling. and even though you'd just agreed — even though you were the one who suggested it, a part of you wondered if you could ever only want to be friends with lee donghyuck.

—

you sit at the dinner table, and haechan's entire body aches with a longing that crests over him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs.

he recalls the way he'd felt earlier, walking back across the park from the kindergarten, stopping by the grocery store and wandering the brightly-lit aisles, turning over pasta sauce and soup stock in his hands. the knowledge that you were in his home, sleeping, that he would turn the key in the lock and you would be waiting for him — burned down his throat like alcohol, a bonfire in his stomach. it felt like playing pretend. he was afraid to even drive you back to your apartment, to walk you to your door, to look at you too long in the moments after. and yet here he was, tipsy off the sweetness of being able to come home to you.

after the talk, neither of you had gone much further than kissing.

"i missed you so much," he murmurs – his voice crumpling under the weight of his own words.

"do you want to show me?" your tone is lightly teasing, dipping low as you keep your smile on your face. the warmth coursing through your body has nothing to do with the blankets pooling around your thighs, and everything to do with the boy sitting across from you — doll-like legs with miles of silky skin splayed out over the sheets, back slouching against the headboard, all crumpled in and soft and worn.

if you had gone to the bar weeks ago, let him guide you to this home, to this bed, you might already be familiar with this soft mattress in a whole different way.

neither of you can deny the way your minds wander there still, despite everything. him missing your body framed against his, you craving the sink of his chest, the curve of his waist.

there's silence, as his words register in the boy's head, pain flickering over his features. if he was feeling more like himself, he would pulled you in, caged you under him. tugged at that side of you that was always so pliant and easy for him and watched you unravel under his fingertips. the words are on the tip of his tongue — i'll show you. did you miss me too? kiss me. stay with me.

instead, his fingers withdraw, and gently touch the soft cotton of his shirt's hem, warm light flickering in his eyes. "not like this," he murmurs quietly. "not…not now."

you let out a breath, tension dissipating. "yeah," you'd murmured. "you're right."

you'd gone to take a shower while he prepared dinner. there was something terribly domestic about all of it — you padding into the living room again, each fiber of your being smelling so much like him. the way he turned from where he stood guarding the soup bubbling on the stove to see you in one of his shirts, a towel draped over your shoulders. the feelings he hadn't learned to pin down, hadn't had the time to sort, intensified in his chest, an ache lodged inside him.

friends. he'd introduced you to his sister as his friend, watched you braid her hair and laugh with her softly, heard your sweet voice wishing her good luck with school. the nights he'd spent with you by his side — talking about the band, about his tattoos. asking about how he did during the show, seeking your praise, wanting to know so badly how he appeared in your eyes. the way you somehow reached right through him and made him listen, made him stop. was that friendship?

now with all the plates cleared and washed, the sounds of your clothes tumbling in his washing machine in the background, the smell of black nail polish prickled his nose as you leaned over. your fingers brushing his, holding them in place.

"should i make it a little messy?" your voice is light.

"it's usually messy because i get my sister to do it," he tells you, softly. "you don't have to mimic how it looks."

you nod, a small smile on your face as you dip the brush back in the bottle. there's silence, for a while, as he watches you, studying the way you look with your head bowed, feeling each careful touch of your fingers, and then —

"do you want to talk about rules now?"

you look up at him just briefly before going back to the task. he swallows.

"sure."

another pause. and then quietly, "you can't get jealous anymore, you know that right?"

"i know," he murmurs. "you told me to stop before…but i didn't. i'm sorry."

you nod. "you can't be possessive of me, either."

he hesitates. "so…no marking?"

slowly, you let go of his left hand. "you can still leave hickeys and bruises," you mumble. "just don't…don't call me yours you know?"

he didn't know if he could do that. "okay," he says, softly. "i'll try." and then, slowly and carefully, he asks, "are you going to keep coming to our shows?"

the slide drag of the brush on his nail stops. "do you want me to?"

he bites his lip. "i want you there," he says, slowly. "but i don't know if i'll be okay with having you in the crowd."

"oh."

"maybe you can watch from backstage. or the wings. i want you to," he adds, when you look troubled. "please."

"are we still a secret?"

his lips part. he wanted to say yes — but it was the way you'd asked it, like it was something you feared, that made him hesitate.

"because," you continue. "it didn't feel good, keeping it from jaemin. and as i said, i hated it when you pretended we were strangers."

he felt your hands leave his, capping the bottle of nail polish as you leaned back in your chair, tucking your knees to your chest. he keeps his hands splayed on the table, taking a deep breath.

"no more secrets," he agrees. "and stop going to those parties, y/n. if you want to see me, just tell me."

you raise your eyebrows. "we're not exclusive," you point out, slowly. "i don't go to the parties just for you. haechan, if you don't think you can do this…"

"i can," he says, hurriedly. "i'm sorry. if i see you at a party…i'll say you're my friend. i'm sorry, it's just that i…i'm just…."

"it's okay." giving him a small smile, you get to your feet, shuffling over to the kitchen. you don't hear him come closer as you fill up a glass of water on the kitchen, only know of his presence as his hand touches your shoulder carefully.

"don't go," he murmurs. his arms slide around your body, gently pulling you towards him, and you turn slightly so you can see his face.

"i'm still here," you respond, softly.

but he shakes his head. "don't go."

you turn around in his arms and your lips brush, his own parting against yours, seeking permission. all the time he wonders when he'll stop kissing you like he's swearing an oath — devoted in the way he wraps his lips around yours, patient and true in the way his tongue moves against yours, and even now, something loving in the way he murmurs your name into the cavern of your mouth. his hands move carefully on your skin, nail polish still drying on his fingertips, and if either of you question the way you kiss, you keep it to yourselves.

—

it's different, watching haechan perform, when he's not performing for you.

you saw the way his eyes flitted through the crowd, making and breaking eye contact so fast it was hard to keep track of, each twitch of his expression rehearsed and calculated. a teasing part of his lips, sinful face fluttery and slack as the music crashed all around him, like he could physically feel it. he was right — you didn't see him the same. you knew it was the performance, that he was really the one trying to please the crowd, riding off the pleasure of attention. but despite seeing through it as he had said, it still had you feeling tightly wound inside, pressure building up inside you, a craving for his touch intensifying with each time his hips shifted against his guitar.

and even worse was the way your heartbeat would trip over itself every time haechan's eyes flickered over to you. never during a song, but in the moments between — mark's voice speaking through the mic, the rest of the boys checking on their instruments or interacting with the crowd. he would look over at you briefly, almost shyly, his heart-shaped lips creasing into a smile.

"friends?"

the moment you'd arrived home, you had pleaded with jaemin not to be upset with haechan, but it turned out you didn't need to. haechan had left a message the night of the party, and when you'd walked in looking more well rested and collected than you'd had in days, jaemin knew that you had been safe. you'd reassured him too, when he asked if keeping you from him only made things worse. both of you had needed that time to come to this conclusion. only time would tell if it was the right one.

"so you're going to be friends with benefits?" jaemin raised his eyebrows. "was this his idea or yours?"

"mine," you mumble. feeling the need to defend yourself, you raise your voice just slightly. "i just think that…i want to keep seeing him, and i want to get to know him…but i don't want him in that way. anymore," you add, when jaemin bites his lip.

"did you really lose feelings, or are you just not ready?" he asks, quietly.

you force a laugh out of your chest. "you think i'd still have feelings for someone who hurt me that much?" you try to say it sarcastically, but you don't have the heart to. the words have no bite, and instead truth echoes in the spaces between.

"that's not the worst thing in the world, y/n." his voice is steady, and calm. "it's okay to take your time. if you remember that lying to yourself will only hurt more."

but there are things to soothe the ache.

"did you like the show?"

haechan roughly tugs off his jacket, letting it slump off his shoulders and onto the floor. the moment the last song ended he'd rushed off stage and right to you, eyes blazing under his heavy makeup, the both of you stumbling into one of the small storerooms backstage.

a single small lightbulb barely illuminates the small space, bathing you in warm light and shadow. shelves of boxes line most of the walls, except for a sliver of space that currently presses against your back, your fingers touching the cold surface.

"it was good," you murmur.

"yeah?"

he's still hungry for more. you can see it in his eyes — for all his good girls and you're perfect, you knew he craved to be adored too.

"you were right," you say, softly. "it feels different, watching as your friend."

his smile falters.

"i…i like it more," you continue. "being in the wings…makes me want to get your attention."

"you have my attention now, princess," he points out. he touches a hand to your waist.

it's almost scary, how you slip back into old patterns. a heady rush filling your senses, slowly dragging you under. this is why i couldn't stop, you think, as he leans in ever closer, his eyes glazed over as his gaze slides to your lips.

there's a beat.

"i forgot to ask," he mumbles. "no possessiveness right?"

your mind clears, just a bit. you nod, breathlessly.

"what else?" he asks. looking at you, timidly, he asks. "can i…are pet names okay? can i still call you baby?"

"baby's fine," you whisper.

"princess?"

"hmm?"

"no," he smiles fondly at you. "i was asking if calling you princess was okay."

you want to bury your face in your hands. or his chest. "princess is fine."

his smile grows wider, before he suddenly turns serious again. "are we starting anew?" he asks, hesitantly. "can i…can i bring up things from before? or are we pretending that this is our first time…"

"no more pretending," you murmur, feeling like a hypocrite. "why? did you want to bring up something?"

"kind of," he nods towards the door. "just thought you're going to love this," he says, slyly. "hearing stage crew and bandmates walking by, knowing that at any point someone could hear us, someone could come in…"

and now you do bury your face in your hands, and when he reaches around to hug you, you lean against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate against you, feeling you with warmth.

"it's okay," he murmurs, as his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. "i won't play with them this time, baby. today's all about you, hm?"

his hands falter, perhaps realizing the words were too tender, a little too loving for what you both claimed this would be.

"lets try not to do anything…romantic?" you mumble.

you regret the words as soon as you say them, your teeth biting into your lip sharply.

haechan's face has shuttered down. you can't read his expression, as he nods, taking your hands in his and kissing them.

"please." you look at him, this time taking the dive, feeling yourself free-falling towards that familiar desire, letting the current swallow you whole. "i need you."

in spite of everything, haechan's lips are as gentle as they've always been.

his lips brush yours, once, twice, before he locks in his kiss, hands trembling slightly as he touches the side of your face, cups you in his palms. you want to ask him what's wrong, pulling away slightly, but he makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping to kiss you fiercely. his tongue slides against yours, and he groans low against your lips.

your hands fumble on his shirt, skimming his broad shoulders, strong arms. he pants into your mouth when your drag your nails down his chest, breaking away. tugging his shirt roughly over his head, he grabs your hands and places them on his chest before leaning in to kiss you again, this time working his way down your neck, his wet kisses making your body shudder as you cling onto him for support.

"please," you murmur, wondering why he was staying so silent. "please-"

but he shakes his head, fingers tracing your jaw, tilting your head up so he lap his tongue over a newly formed bruise. the room is silent save for the sound of his lips, but you crave his voice, his words guiding you through everything, the lilting cadence of it.

"haechan-" a foreign feeling spikes in your stomach as he ignores you, continuing to kiss his way down to your collarbones, fingers tugging your collar wide open. it felt like he wasn't there at all.

he breathes heavy against your skin as he curls his hands around your hips, holding on tight. still he doesn't say a word, or even make a sound, as his caress the back of your thighs.

"stop-" you blurt out. roughly, you take his hands in yours, gripping them by the wrists.

he lifts his head.

"haechan," you start, but he just looks at you. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.

"haechan, you're scaring me." your voice is panicked and tight, the tension so overwhelming that tears begin to blur your vision, your chest rising and falling faster.

"baby?" he asks, alarmed. "what's wrong?"

"please talk to me," you beg, wiping away the tears on your cheek. the ache has soothed slightly at his voice, but you need more. "why…why aren't you talking? you always…you always used to-"

"i'm sorry," he whispers, pulling your body into his, wrapping his bare arms around you. "i'm here," he soothes, in your ear. "i'm here," he mumbles again, and again, until your breathing calms down.

"i'm sorry," he repeats, kissing you softly. "i'm here now, baby, okay?"

you nod, and now you guide his hands to your thighs, feel the way his breathing hitches.

"can i…?"

"please," you say, breathlessly, and his hand cups your warm core.

"fuck," he blurts out. you were so warm, the seat of your panties completely soaked through. he slides them to the side with nimble fingers, inhaling sharply as he strokes your folds.

"how are you so wet? fuck-"

"take them off," you plead, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your skin. immediately, he tugs your panties and skirt down roughly, almost frustrated, barely waiting for you to step out of them before encouraging you to spread your legs wider as he strokes you, fingers dipping to catch at your entrance, your swollen clit.

"so fucking wet," he marvels, groaning slightly as he swipes his fingers softly .

"from watching you perform," you say, softly.

the words send pleasure thrumming low in his navel. "yeah?" he murmurs, eyes meeting yours.

slowly, he drops to his knees, and suddenly you feel hypersensitive — his breath on your thighs, hands gripping you tightly. he suckles a kiss close to your core, and you whine, loudly, the sound too loud in the small space.

he looks up at you, sultry eyes framed in dark eyeliner. "let me hear you, baby," he coaxes, easing your legs open. he sticks out the tip of his tongue, and gives your clit a gentle flick, your hips bucking into his face before you can stop yourself. "i've been dreaming about this," he sighs, before he closes in and suckles on your clit.

he lapped at you like all he'd done in your days apart was think about how best to do it — alternating between suckling on your clit, licking your folds with his tongue wide and flat, and prodding at your entrance. one hand keeping you pressed against the wall, his other slips around your entrance, sliding in one long finger, the way your walls suck him in making him moan, vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. you can feel the jut of his finger joints, the pad of his finger curling against your walls, while his tongue focuses on your clit, drawing shapes and letters expertly.

you slump further against the wall, the pleasure making your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up, your hands tangled in his hair, knotting them around your fingers.

"i can't stand-" you're cut off by a moan, as he bites into your thigh, licking up the wetness that stains them, a mix of your arousal and his saliva. "please," you wish you were on a bed, wish both of you had had more patience to go somewhere and do this right, feel the whole weight of his body on yours.

"cum," he pants, sucking on your clit with his plush lips as he coaxes another finger into your warm, now mimicking a vibrating motion with his hand as he pushes in hard and fast. he doesn't break away even as he moans out, now curling his fingers languidly against your walls. "fuck, baby, i need you to cum now because i can't wait any longer-"

his tongue presses onto your clit, and the pressure pushes you overboard. his hand the only thing keeping you upright, pushing roughly into you, he eats you out until your orgasm is over, kitten licking your clit as his head moves this way and that. you open your eyes and see him staring right at you, desire pulsing in his pupils, eyes blown out and dark.

"good?" he breathes, both hands now gripping you tight. you nod, swallowing and gasping. his face is smeared with you, mouth and nose shining and glossy. he licks around his lips, mouth hanging open as his eyes glint.

"more?" he asks, and you nod, gasping, falling to your knees. now, you're finally able to touch him, as your body crashes into his, causing him to nearly tip over from how he kneels, sitting back on his ankles to draw you into him. you kiss him deeply, letting his lips wrap around your tongue just the way you loved it, feel his hum vibrate against your own chest.

his hands ghost under your shirt, and you help him pull it off, his hands cupping your breasts with his familiar touch, sucking kisses down your cleavage as you gasp for air. his hands roam your body indulgently, as if he was afraid you'd dissolve if he wasn't mapping your skin with his palms, his tongue, his lips. one hand trailing up and down your back, unclasping your bra, while the other squeezes the back of your thighs, resting his hand on your ass.

he suckles on your nipples like he had all the time in the world, as if you weren't in a cramped store room feeling as if you were about to explode from his touch alone. gentle tongue drawing circles around the bud, eyes staring up at yours with devotion. your hips move against his, and his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, his hips starting to grind up against you as well.

"turn around," he mumbles. "now, princess."

"i want to see you," you protest, hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly walks forward on his knees, pushing you towards the wall.

"i'm sorry, baby-" he kisses you, placatory and sweet. "we'll go again in my bedroom later, okay? need you like this now."

you let him maneuver you until you're facing the wall, legs spread apart as he kneels in between. trying to soothe you, he rubs a hand over your stomach, reminding you of his presence the entire time he rids himself of his jeans and underwear, rolling on a condom, tension building with every small sound, until you can feel something thick and heavy press between your legs.

"haechan-" you pant, your back arching just slightly as you lean towards the wall for support, feeling his hand squeeze your hip.

"i know," he mumbles, making slight shushing sounds as he eases himself against you. "i know, baby."

even though he was behind you, you knew the face he would make as you felt his tip slowly push past your entrance, the way his eyebrows would float upwards as his eyes went unfocused, lips parting in a lovely 'ah- ah' that he tried hard to contain behind hisses and bitten lips. part of you still wants to see it, but all thoughts are lost as he fully sheaths himself into you, feeling him deep inside from the position. his hand on your hip creeps over to your navel, and he pushes gently over where he was buried inside you, the pressure somehow intensifying as you feel full from all sides.

slowly, his body presses you further into the wall, and you gasp as the cool surface brushes your chest. he kisses the nape of your neck, and your body trembles, shifting against him and whining as you clench around him from sensitivity. behind you, haechan mumbles out a string of curses, hips jolting forward unsteadily before he stops himself.

"please move," you whisper, and he moans, finally thrusting into you. he finds a rhythm that's slow and deep, feeling full and stretched out each time you throb around him. a particularly harsh thrust has you whining, your hips tilting towards the wall, trying to get away, but suddenly the solid weight of his body presses against you ever harsher as he rolls his hips, his chest pressed to your back. he feels stronger, and sturdier than he ever did before, as a hand creeps down to your clit and begins to rub slow and lazy circles, his body attuned to yours. you jolt away from the simulation, ass suddenly jolting back against his length, making you cry out again, sandwiched between pleasure.

"don't run from it," he coaxes. "just take it, hm?"

you had nowhere to go as he fucks himself into you, wet sounds filling the small space, and you're sure the floor is wet with your arousal, can feel your next climax approaching fast, making you forget about the ache in your knees and in the way your head pressed against the hard wall. you begin to shake in his hold, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock while he bullies your clit relentlessly, but once again his chest presses into you, strong arms holding you firmly in place as he overflows your body with pleasure, a hand slowly grasping yours and squeezing.

"i missed you, baby," he says, quietly, voice surprisingly steady despite the way he was ramming into you. "i really missed you." his lips brush the shell of your ear.

you cum unexpectedly, crying out, squeezing tight around him as all the muscles in your body tense. your hand squeezes tight around his as the other rubs quick circles on your clit, working you through your orgasm. you can feel him still behind you as he cums too, whining in a pitch and tone you'd never heard from him before, desperate and achy as you clench around him again from the sound, so sensual that it rekindles a fire inside you despite the soreness in all your limbs.

your weak hands fumble against him, scrabbling against his strong grip. he pulls out with a hiss, helping you turn around to face him. in the semi-darkness, you can see the concern pooling in his eyes, bright and scared.

"was it too rough?" he asks, breathlessly. his hands skim your frame, pulling you onto his lap.

you shake your head, nuzzling into him. you're torn between watching that silvery glow in his eyes, makeup smudged around all his corners, and burying yourself deep inside his chest until you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek.

"baby? are you alright?" he rubs gentle circles on your back, as you nod. "use your words, please," he says, softly.

"you got stronger," you blurt out.

"did i hurt you?" he moves against you, something protective in the way he holds you that makes your body sing with warmth.

"no," you say shyly. "i loved it."

you lift your head just quick enough to catch the way his face crumples. before you can ask, he leans in and he's kissing you again — soft, gentle, sweet and almost shy. when you part, he looks dazed, eyes drifting down to your lips and wandering back up to your eyes.

"you deserve better," he says, quietly.

he looks down, at the way you're sitting in his lap, and then tilts his head sharply to look around the store room, as if he meant you deserved better than this for your first time back with him. as if this was about sex at all.

you take a deep breath, and shake your head. "haechan, you're exactly what i deserve."

the name rings out in the space. it seems to ground him, and he shakes his head to clear it, slowly untangling himself from you as he gets ready to help you up.

you swallow. "take me home," you tell him. "take care of me."

he does exactly as you say.

—

attention simmers on your skin, a palpable heat you're unable to shake.

girls circle the kitchen island like sharks, eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights, but they're never able to come close as it's so clear haechan's focus is entirely on you. haechan's back is turned to the party as he sits on the counter, long legs spilling over and the muscles in his thick thighs accentuated by the way he sits, denim stretched tight and each gaping hole making you doubt your decision to come to the party here, instead of going over to his home.

it was his party, and he should go. the fans would be upset if he didn't at least show. now you were seriously regretting it, as you ducked your head to avoid the glare of another crowd as they passed by, while haechan knocked back another drink.

he had been alight with energy ever since the show ended — agreeing amiably when you suggested going to the party, his smile only wavering when you reminded him he couldn't get jealous. and while your eyes wandered around the party, drinking in the scenes you hadn't seen in awhile, he was doing everything in his power to keep your attention on him, camera strap hanging from his neck as he clicked through the photos, pointing out the parts where jaemin had helped him, explaining the stories behind the pictures.

"i didn't know you were into photography." it's a stupid statement, that you want to retract immediately. of course you didn't – you didn't know much about him at all. but it makes him smile a little proudly, clicking on the dial to speed through the photos.

"yeah well, i've never taken a photo of you." he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. "i know for sure because when we…you know…when we weren't seeing each other, and i missed you…" his cheeks are burning up, his mouth barely moving as he tries to fumble through the rest of the sentence, plush lips swallowing his words. "i couldn't find any photos of you. on my camera or in my phone or…" he trails off.

your heart thrums harder in your chest. "yeah?"

"do…do you have photos of me?" he asks. timidly, softly. his eyes trained on his camera, unseeing, breath held in his chest waiting for your answer.

"of course i do," you murmur. you hope he can hear the smile in your voice, know that it's for him. "rockstar."

his fingers twitch, and he looks up at you, a searing intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, flames licking at your cheeks as you hold his gaze, a warmth that sparks down your spine like fireworks. the sounds of the party fade away, sealing you in the vacuum of his attention.

"y/n," his voice drops an octave, all the softness drained out of it.

"haechan?"

"let me take a photo of you," he murmurs. "please."

"now?"

"no, not now," he says, slowly. "you know what i mean, princess."

but you never get to clarify, because someone taps you lightly on the shoulder. haechan's eyes flicker behind you, all the intensity faded out, and it feels like your lungs fill with air again as you turn to see jisung, holding two cups in his hands, one of which he's holding out to you.

you're torn between crushing guilt, and relief that he doesn't hate you.

"j-jisung," you splutter. "jisung, hi."

"hi, y/n." he smiles, nudging the cup towards you again, and you take it. almost against your will, your eyes dart over to haechan, but his face is impassive and neutral, camera laying forgotten on his lap as he turns quickly to survey the party behind him. was he trying to offer you privacy, or was he upset?

you sip from the drink, trying not to make a face at the overwhelming sweetness that floods your tastebuds. the boy had barely put any alcohol in it. your hand almost inches towards the cup haechan made for you, wanting to balance out the taste, before you stop yourself.

you didn't want to hurt his feelings again.

"it's been a while," you say, sheepishly. "and again, i'm really sorry about last time."

"it's okay," he says, cheerfully. "haechan already apologised. besides, you can make it up to me on our date."

jisung's words have a physical effect on haechan. you feel him tense up behind you, body going stiff as he turns back to watch you, eyes trained on the side of your face.

"you still owe me a date." you don't know if it's determination, or sheer recklessness, that inspired jisung to say this to you as you stood in the kitchen with haechan just inches away, the side of his thigh still brushing your waist. "are you free tomorrow night?"

you try your best not to look at haechan. he had no right to care, you didn't owe him anything. you didn't know what you wanted to see on his face either way — whether his jealousy would make you angry, whether his sadness would hurt you instead.

"i am," you agree, hesitantly, and jisung's close-lipped smile blooms.

—

"you know there are other boys out there right? that there's a world beyond the band?"

"shut up, jaemin," you mumble, checking your reflection in the dressing room mirror one last time.

"this is good for you." his tone has changed, as he leans against the locked door. "jisung is nice. i hope it works out."

tonight's show had been different. jaemin had reluctantly confirmed that it wasn't just your imagination — the way haechan was quieter throughout, more self-conscious in his performance, eyes barely scanning the crowd, taking longer glances at you throughout the show. jisung's confidence, on the other hand, poured off him in waves, his jacket unzipped, gums showing as he smiled wide.

"i know." you sling your bag across your body, adjusting your skirt, as you turn to face him, taking a deep breath. "i'm really giving him a chance, jaemin. i'm…i'm taking this seriously, even if you don't believe me." it wasn't a lie. you barely knew anything about jisung, and jisung barely knew anything about you — but he was always sincere and sweet, quietly brave under his shyness. you couldn't forget the way he looked at you even with haechan by your side. it made you want to give him a chance too.

"i believe you," he reassures. "good luck, okay?" the door unlatches with a small click, and he gives you one last wave before heading out into the corridor.

your eyes dart back to your reflection one last time before you turn back, satisfied with your appearance, and start towards the door. you barely take a step before there's a creak, and you think it's jaemin coming back, or perhaps jisung, wondering why you took so long.

but of course, things are never easy.

a familiar face enters the room, pushing the door open wide. he doesn't bother to close it, just takes you in for a second — eyes sweeping your frame, taking in your jewelry, the hints of makeup on your skin, your clothes, your neat hair. dejavu crawls over your skin, remembering the first time you'd met jisung, the way haechan had cornered you in the dressing room after, too. you tense your shoulders, preparing for the fight.

"you look nice," he says, quietly.

your lips part. "haechan-"

but before you can speak, he's blurting out his next words. "j-jisung's going to love it," he stammers out, shadows flickering in his gaze as he swallows, throat bobbing. "i… i just came here to say good luck." at your surprised expression, his lips curve up into a sad smile. "that…that's what friends do, right?"

"yeah." your hands grip onto the sling of your bag tightly, afraid of what your hands would do if you let go.

"i'm going to go now," he mumbles. "i…have fun, y/n."

there isn't a trace of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes soft and fond. he leaves before you can say another word, not closing the door behind him. you can hear his boots all the way down the corridor, can hear him disappear up the stairs.

you try not to think about his voice, as you take the back exit out of the venue, see jisung standing in the warm summer night, smiling under a streetlight. try not to dwell on the fact that haechan might have actually wished the best for you – no more layers of pretense under pretense, no more feelings without reason.

it's easier said than done.

—

two hours pass, your food gone from your plates, only the dregs of your drinks left in their glasses, before jisung finally clears his throat.

"this isn't working out, is it?"

"i'm sorry," you say, biting your lip. you'd walked to see a movie, something jisung had picked out, but had been mind-numbingly dull to you. you settled to watch his reactions instead, the way his hands flew over his eyes at the more intense scenes, the way he bit down on his fingers when the tension spiked. it was cute, but less so when he started asking you questions about the movie, and you had to admit you didn't remember any part of the plot past the first 20 minutes.

late night dinner hadn't been better, each topic running itself to the ground quickly, your opinions and lack of opinions causing each conversation to crash to an uncomfortable halt. good things take time, had been jaemin's text to you when you asked for help. you were sure that jisung and you weren't acting like your true selves, the prospect of the date altering the way you talked and responded to each other, until you'd finally come to the conclusion that perhaps you just weren't compatible.

"i really thought this would work out," jisung says, a tinge of sadness coloring his words.

"i wanted it to," you confess. selfishly, you had almost been excited at the prospect of things working out with jisung — needing confirmation that you could still feel for others. excited for the date leading to the next, to fall in love with surety.

excited to find the first relationship, the first 'you and i' that haechan seemed to think you deserved.

"it's okay," jisung reaches out, pats your hand clumsily, shyly, as if surprised that reaching towards you meant he actually got to touch you "i didn't know much about you when i asked you out, anyway. just thought you were really pretty." he looks mortified again, and it makes you laugh — everything about him still endearing.

"do you want to just be friends?" you ask, gently.

it's like a weight lifts from the conversation, and he sighs, relieved. "yeah," he echoes. "friends."

the silence that follows is a lot more peaceful. jisung slumps slightly in his seat, like the tension has left his body. his deep voice somehow still manages to sound timid when he speaks up next.

"since we're friends…"

you nod, encouragingly, taking a last sip of your drink.

"can i ask…do you like haechan?"

you nearly choke. jisung was looking at you carefully, although he smiled at the expression on your face.

"a-are you sure you want to talk about this?' you stammer.

he shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "i'll always be curious about it, and i guess this is my chance to ask."

you don't have the heart to answer him directly.

"i…i used to," you say, slowly. "but that was when i didn't know him."

"know him?" he asks, confused.

you nod. "yeah. i didn't really know him as a person….just…knew the performance, i guess."

jisung still looks confused, but he nods along. "well, do you know him now?"

you think of the sunlight in his living room. the faint dimple on his cheek as he showed you a photo of his sister running towards the camera, her face alight as she called out for her big brother. his arms around you in the kitchen, as he asked you to stay. the slope of his neck as he turns towards you at the end of a song — the fading sound of his guitar as his eyes sought yours.

"maybe," you say, softly.

"and?" jisung prompts. "could you like him now?"

you don't answer him aloud, but your unspoken words ring in your head.

—

it's different this time, haechan tells himself, as he grips his phone in his hands.

it's different this time, because he knew where you were. he knew why you weren't calling.

he slumps back against his bed, his body heavy with alcohol but his mind racing wild, each thought outpacing the next.

the apartment was silent and empty. both jeno and mark were gone for the night. haechan hadn't bothered to go to the party, knowing that he would feel jisung's absence like a pain lodged in his ribs. he wonders if jisung will bring you home, here, whether you'd let him, even if he knew jisung wasn't the type of boy to go further than hand-holding on the first date. he thinks of it anyway — of hearing your sounds through his bedroom wall. whether it would make you needier to know haechan was listening.

he feels like a loser. he's never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin, more unclean, more ashamed. but then again, there's no one around to know, as he lets his mind wander a little farther, away from you and jisung, away from his phone, sinking deep into the last time he'd touched your skin, images and sensations jumping out eagerly at him when he closed his eyes. flicks through moments that caused a heat to lick down his spine, the familiar hum of pleasure buzzing low in his navel — your legs on his shoulders, your hands in his hair. your taste, the patterns he would draw on your body so you'd shake just the way he liked, the spot on your neck he could kitten-lick to feel you tense up all around him.

that night, even after he'd fucked you in the store room, you had been insatiable.

he'd tried to touch you like the other girls he used to play with — never speaking much, preferring to use his mouth for other things, let their own imaginations run wild with what he could be thinking behind his hooded eyes. he'd taken you with your face turned away from him, pleasure without intimacy, sucking bruises as a keepsake for you after the night ended, not as if you were his to keep or to lose.

let's try not to do anything romantic.

but then you'd begged him to talk to you. told him to take you home. he'd hated it — hated the way you folded for him, like someone had given him powers he couldn't help abuse. do you know how tender this is for me? he'd wanted to ask, as he was touching you again in his sheets back home, racing to meet your every demand before you asked for it.

your legs parted for him as he entered you, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure to watch your every expression, the look he'd been dying to see — your eyelashes fluttering, lips parted silently, the sharp gasp as he found your soft spot, your hands scrabbling against his skin. he held your gaze even as he let you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locked in a sweetheart's cross behind him as he pushed your legs even higher, letting him in deeper. he'd never imagined himself with anyone like this before — a position so full of love and closeness, feeling your body and ripple against his, leaning in to kiss your lips softly, kiss away your desperation.

he'd almost gone crazy when you found your voice amidst all the pleasure.

"donghyuck," you'd breathed, saying the name like a prayer. "feels so good."

he had stilled, slowing to a stop, even though he was painfully hard in you. his heart racing in his chest, pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

"you," you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. "you make me feel so good, 's like no one else-"

"yeah?" he picks up the pace again, tilting your body at an angle now so he could go even deeper, watches the way your face changes. he was the one who pulled that sound from your chest — sated but desperate at the same time, needy but satisfied. "i make you feel this good, right? i'm good for you, everything's for you-" he babbled, not making sense to even himself, your praise burying itself deep inside him like a siren song.

you'd choked out more praises, pretty words tumbling from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his.

"more, hyuck-" you pulled at him, nails scratching down his back. "hyuck-"

it's like he can hear your voice, as his hand slides down to his hip, down to his leaking cock.

he jerks himself off like that — to the images of you pressed under him, your voice calling his name. he does it fast, with no finesse — tugging roughly, the slide too dry, but he doesn't care about drawing out the pleasure, doesn't think it matters if you're not here with him.

he feels even filthier after he finishes — peeling off his soiled shirt, as he stumbles to the bathroom. he knows he won't hear from you tonight, that you wouldn't do that to jisung, but still he keeps his phone unlocked with the ringer on next to his bed as he lays down again.

maybe he would wake up, and you would tell him he could never see you or touch you again. his mind wanders in another direction now, away from your body, away from pleasure — to the ways you made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. when you said his name. when you'd comforted him as he was crying, the kindness in your eyes despite all the ways he hurt you. sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of ways to keep you with him as your eyes wandered off. look at me, he'd wanted to beg. think of me. just me.

he goes to sleep thinking about how this could be the last night before you'd really only exist in memory and fantasy, before everything changes.

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35

#haechan smut #fic: rockstar haechan #haechan angst #haechan fluff #haechan au #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct smut #nct angst #haechan scenario #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #donghyuck smut

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azullumi · 5 months

Text

"honey in your mouth when you say my name" ; aventurine

premise— happiest birthday to the man who had stardust on his wake and the sun for a soul; he was warm and he was everything you have ever dreamed for. this is a gift to the man who knew cruelty all his life but remained kind despite the cracks and blood on his skin.

content tags — 2.1 QUEST SPOILER, established relationship, soft aventurine (WE SAY IN UNISON), angst and fluff, a few metaphors, mentions of death and blood, birthday sadness (idk what u call that), NOT PROOFREAD I DID THIS ON A RUSH, 1.4K ; one-shot (bullet-form)

note — i have exams tomorrow and a lot of things due but the moment i heard it was his birthday, i wrote this for him AAAAAAAAAAAAA

AVENTURINE can still remember the smell of rain the day blood filled the line of his vision. It’s horrifying, haunting, sharp in all of its corners as it finds him in a sunny morning when he tries to look for the pieces of himself scattered on his floor, hidden beneath the carpet (and when he lifts the pattern, he’ll find torn and broken memories of when he was still young and loved). For this reason, he is not really into the prospect of celebrating his birthday, not when the day is intertwined with grief.

He avoids telling people of his day, avoids thinking of it by burying himself in hundreds of paperworks and cases to handle. He can’t think of that day without thinking of death, without thinking of his sister who laid lifeless in the golden sands (she probably thought of him in his last moments), without thinking of his mother who prayed even when her knees and hands are bleeding (the rain came to her as a blessing, but for him it has become a curse), and without thinking of his father who never got to hold his son (he never knew what he sounds like).

He’ll remember everything, that was his curse.

He never celebrated that day, not anymore, not even once. Perhaps he tried, perhaps he went into the bakery with the thought of getting himself a cake and lighting a candle, perhaps he tries to seek beauty on the day that he was born, especially when it coincides with the day of rebirth of his goddess. Perhaps he did and perhaps the cake was left rotting in his fridge because he can’t seem to enjoy the taste of it when its reminiscence of the bitter rain and fresh blood.

(He can’t bear the thought that silence was his only companion either) He’d like to think that the meows of the critters as they approach him translate to words that greets him a happy birthday, but how could they? It’s a silly thought, it’s not like they can understand him nor any of these stupid traditions, and it’s not like he can understand them either. So he still remains alone.

But there, you came—unexpected, unwavering. When you learnt of his birthday, when he told you of his past and every line that exists in his being, a shell of determination washes on the shore of your thoughts. It didn’t have to be grand, it didn’t have to be extravagant; you only wish to make the day memorable for him, even just for once. You wanted him to let go of the thorns and feel how nice it is to have nothing that makes your hand bleed.

Although, you must admit, you were anxious, scared, nervous, everything while you were preparing for it. I mean, sure, it’s just going to be something simple with you and him only, and you made sure that in some aspects of it, he’ll enjoy it. You know that the burden he carries is heavy on his shoulders, and letting go is never easy nor simple, but for once, you wanted to do something for him to ease the tension that lies in his thoughts and bones.

Imagine the surprise and confusion on his face when he comes home to his apartment smelling like freshly-baked bread, tangled with the scent of lit candles and flowers, and the aroma of food. Surely, this wasn’t a burglary, right? What type of burglar would leave rose petals on the path of his doorway leading to wherever? What type of burglar would spend the time to bake a cake and even cook dinner? And what type of burglar would dress up so pretty and smile at him while their hands are trembling behind their back?

There’s the sound of his voice calling out to your name and soon, he heard something cluttering followed by rushed footfalls, and there you were, peeking behind the wall with a nervous grin plastered on your lips. You greet, “You’re home early, I thought you were going to be late?”

“I was going to be but I decided to bring some of the leftover papers home instead. I didn’t know you were going to come by, you should have told me.” He answers, taking off his dress shoes and placing it on the rack, “I could have come home much earlier if I knew.”

You laugh, emerging from behind the wall, “It’s fine, it’s fine.” You try to find the words to say in your trembling palms and fidgeting fingers. If he knew of what you were planning, surely, he would stop you and you didn’t want that. Albeit you don’t recall him saying he didn’t want nor like celebrating his day, but he did mention that he simply avoids it—does avoidance equate to dislikeness or hatred? It was plaguing your mind.

He hums, ushering you to come close to him so he can wrap his arms around your figure, engulfing you in a hug as he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder. “Why are you so dressed up? What’s the occasion? I don’t recall setting a date for the both of us tonight.”

“Do you not remember?”

Panic quickly shot over him like a bullet as he stood up straight from his position, “We have plans tonight?! There’s nothing on my schedule for today so I thought.” He’s quick to utter apologies, anxiety seen on his face as he spoke. It breaks your heart a little hearing what he’s saying—he doesn’t even remember.

“‘Rine, it’s your birthday.”

Silence.

Disbelief outlines the line on his lips, “What?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling like there is something that wraps and binds around your chest which suffocates you; It was your turn to panic, feeling it overwhelm the nerves of your body, “You mentioned it once, perhaps a few months ago. I wanted to make it a little special for you so I prepared something for us, for you. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I mean I can just—”

You were interrupted by him, your sentence cutting short, “Oh, love, you didn’t have to.” He cups your cheek, warmth seeping into your skin. You didn’t listen to his voice for so long to not be familiar with how it cracks and breaks when the words fall from his lips.

“But I did and I wanted to.” You answer, softly, reassuring him as you lean into his touch.

“Having you beside me already makes it all special.”

You laugh, eyes forming into a small crescent that reminds him of the moon, “And I want it to be more than just that kind of special.” And he sighs upon hearing your answer, it’s not one of frustration but it still has worry forming on your stomach as you swallow, “Are you mad at me?”

“No, how could I ever be mad at you? I’m just surprised.” He brushes the pad of his thumb across your cheek, gazing into your eyes with such affection and adoration as if the stars were born from his eyes. He presses a kiss on your forehead, whispering to your skin as if a small confession, “Thank you.”

How could he ever be worthy of you?

You hum, "I love you, Kakavasha."

Aventurine is grateful—it fills every gap and crack on his skin, soothing the scars of his flaws, and everything that sets him apart from his humanity. He never knew that cakes could taste this sweet, so kind and gentle as it melts on his tongue.

Slowly but surely, he soon let the warmth settle in his skin. The gray walls that surround that day are soon painted and drawn with different colors, with doodles that were made by your hands mixed with a few of his works. Perhaps the ocean of his grief will still haunt him but he won’t drown in it, nor will he find comfort in the cold embrace of nothing and everything that rejects him.

(Kakavasha, your sister would be so happy for you.)

And when the day comes once more, he’ll see and dream of the rain but not how bitter and heavy it was, but how it soon became warm and sweet, washing away the blood on his feet.

special mention to @toorurs, thanks for always being there for me even when i say the most nonsense of things or when my sheep genes are acting up 😔 i hope everything is going well for you and will go well for youuu!! sorry for being inactive AND NOT REPLYING TO YOUR TIKTOKS AAAA I SWEAR ILL BE MORE ACTIVE SOON I WILL REPLY EVEN WHEN YOU STILL HAVEN'T MESSAGED 👆 anyways this is a very short dedication note because gosh i still have to study hejsad ilyyyyy a lotttt please always remember that !!

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amaranthineghost · 6 months

Note

can u do a charles leclerc x reader but the reader is like alexandra’s older sister pls pls pls i love my girl alex so much

HIS HEART THAT LIES WITH THE OTHER GIRL ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x mleux!reader

charles and alexandra are good friends and feelings are starting to develop, but her older sister happened to be the one to catch his eye instead.

warnings: google translate french (please feel free to correct anything that's wrong)

authors note: the request was a little vague so I took some creative liberty, which honestly I enjoyed very much so THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST <333 I love alexandra so much too, she's so gorgeous!!! also taking a break after this because of my thumb (I do have a verstappen imagine already written so that's going to be out soon enough)

BEING AN OLDER SISTER MEANS MAKING SACRIFICES for your younger siblings. she had felt throughout her life that maybe she had been a little too selfish. it felt at times like she was the baby of the two because she didn't act as her role model. moments growing up that she should've taken the fall for alex because that's what it means to be an older sister, but she didn't. she hadn't thought of her younger sister as much as she should've. not a day went by that she hadn't felt guilty for developing feelings for the guy alexandra liked, the guy her sister fell for first.

alexandra had known him for longer than she had, yet she would realize his attention was elsewhere. his frequent trips to the house they both thought were originally because he really liked alex and wanted their parents to like him.

but alexandra was oblivious to where his heart really lied.

stolen glances from across the room, eyes lingering longer than they ever should've to begin with because maybe that's why it started in the first place. his damn, green eyes half-lidded and fluttering lashes every time he blinked, and leaning his head on his hand just staring at her from the other side of the room. a glance over her shoulder told her all she needed to know as she saw the monegasque driver eyeing her up and down. all she could do was turn away and hope alexandra wouldn't notice.

and she wouldn't, for the moment. waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, he blamed it as being lost in thoughts about strategies for the next race. they laughed, simply joking it off and talking about how he should take a rest from thinking about his career.

but his attention kept slipping back to her. though he tried not to get lost in her appearance, he would fail greatly every time he was even near her. he didn't even have to be in the same room for him to be dazing off, thinking about how she would look better by his side. but he also felt the guilt she had, maybe not the same because he wasn't alexandra's older sibling developing feelings for the guy she liked.

but he had felt guilty. he would be lying if he said that he didn't like the girl at first. she was pretty, for starters, her magnetic smile and radiant personality was what had originally drawn him in. he felt bad to say that wasn't the reason he decided to stay.

it was no doubt alex was a nice girl, in fact the nicest he had ever met in his life and the most welcoming family was right behind her. and that's when he first saw her. after hanging out various times around monaco, occasionally sneaking back to his place, they decided it was time they met her side of the family. only then did alex not realize the mistake she was about to make.

when the door opened, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, alexandra had no clue at the time, but her sister did. she nervously laughed it off as she stepped aside so alex could pull charles inside with her. the day they met was the closest they ever were in proximity as he walked past her holding the door. the addicting perfume he wore wafted by as he was pulled along into the living room where their parents were.

throughout the whole evening, he struggled to keep his gaze away from her. alexandra wouldn't notice for a long time, and by a long time, she meant it was months.

months of stolen glances, slipping into the kitchen alone with her just to help with dishes because he was ‘such a gentleman,’ but really all he was doing was just an attempt and excuse to get close to her. grazing arms as they stood next to each other despite her assuring him it was fine. every time it occured, which was more often than it should've been, he would somehow get closer.

she didn't mind because over the course of those few months, she had grown quite fond of his gaze on her, or exchanging slight touches whenever they would pass dishes between one another. when he would've acted oblivious to how to clean them when he had first offered to help, sharing laughs that only grew louder every interaction. it had evolved from awkward explanations and silence, to small talk and then casual conversations in their native languages.

but one day, everything changed. a normal conversation turned into something different when he grabbed her wrist with his cold hands covered in water and suds from the dish soap.

his face was serious and she almost didn't hear him when he uttered the words, “je t’aime bien.” (I like you).

“charles.” she only managed his name as she froze with his words, her heart dropping in her chest. this couldn't, shouldn't, be happening. he should like alexandra, not her.

“je sais,” he started as he watched her mouth part, but no words fell from her lips, “mais je t’aime beaucoup.” (I know, but I like you a lot).

“mais ma sœur,” her other hand covered his that held her to him, pursing her lips before continuing, “Elle t’aime bien.” (but my sister, she likes you.)

he nods, muttering in french under his breath stuff that she couldn't hear. she shook her head, slipping her hands from his grasp, going back to the dishes in silence, as did he.

from the door frame, unknown to them, alexandra watched with her arms crossed. when she first saw them together, she was happy they were getting along because she didn't want animosity between the pair, and her older sister never liked the guys she dated before. but she realized far too late the way charles looked at her. the way he looked at her sister was different from the way he looked at her. a spark in his eyes and more creases when he smiled. it was genuine interest as he multitasked the dishes and listened to her talk like he could do it forever. she understood, her sister was like a magnet of different energy, one that alexandra possessed, but not on her sister’s level.

the sight, and hearing his words, in front of her confirmed what she had been suspicious of for weeks. she had finally followed his gaze to her, whether she was sat across the couch from the two, or if she had sauntered off to another room. whenever she would fold laundry with them in the room, how charles would always offer to help. she didn't notice a lot the first time, how her sister gazed between her and charles like she was going to notice his behavior. how bad his folding was, so much so that she had to take the clothes from his hands and show him how to properly do it, and how gentle he handled every item.

it wasn't like he wasn't sweet with alex, but she began to notice how much care he put into his actions that involved her. while it hurt at first because she was so deeply involved with him, she realized that maybe, just maybe, that her sister deserved him more than she did.

because from her view, her older sister gave up everything for her baby sister. even if she didn't recognize it herself, alexandra knew that over the years, she had done more for her and she didn't know how to return the favor at the time. she didn't know what could match the level she set herself.

but seeing the way they genuinely clicked, she knew that this one time, she would be the one to have to make a sacrifice. it didn't mean that her older sister was no longer mature, it just meant that she had a way to pay her back for all she had done. if that meant giving up the guy she had begun to love, she would do it. she would do it to see her sister happy for once because this was the first time in a while that she was. she wanted it to stay that way.

so when early morning came the next day, when charles had long walked out the door the previous night and sent a small smile they thought alex didn't notice, she sat down at the island. arms crossed on the cold granite counters as she sat on the cushioned barstool, watching her sister dance about the kitchen making breakfast.

she knew if she didn't speak up now, she would never, and their love story would've never had the potential to bloom.

“je sais.” (I know).

“que veux-tu dire?” (what do you mean?) her sister chuckled as she poured a glass of orange juice, looking at her with her brow raised as she turned back to the fridge.

“je sais que charles t’aime bien.” (I know charles likes you). she froze, the cold air leaking from the fridge as she stood with the orange juice jug in her hands before regaining composure and continuing on with her actions.

“je lui ai dit non, je sais que tu l'aimes bien,” (I told him no, I know you like him). she stood in front of alexandra, fearing that her sister had grown angry with her, but she knew she couldn't control charles’ feelings, and neither could her sister.

“tu aurais dû dire que tu l'aimais en retour,” (you should have said you liked him back). alexandra leaned closer, her hand raising in a gesture to her that she made a mistake by shying away, “j'irai bien.” (i will be fine).

she shook her head, the glass of orange juice on the counter clutched in her hand, “ce n'est pas juste pour toi.” (it's not fair to you).

“mais il te rend heureux,” (he makes you happy though). she sighed with a small smile, leaning back in the barstool, “dit lui.” (tell him).

“okay,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, reaching for her phone across the counter to text charles and tell him to come over, “il est en route.” (he's on his way).

“bien.” she smiled, standing up and leaving her in the kitchen.

her heart was racing. was she really going to do this? she had turned him down less than a day ago and now she was going to simply accept his abrupt confession. she rubbed her fingers to her temple and sighed, leaning down against the counter as she ate.

she didn't have to wait long to hear a familiar knock pattern he did to alert anyone that it was him.

she walked to the door slowly, like she could lose her balance if she went any quicker. cracking her knuckles with anxiety, she hesitantly opened the door to see his smiling face as if she didn't reject him.

say it. say it.

it repeated in her head as she took a deep breath while he stood confused. her face began to flush and he was wondering when he was going to be let in.

one last deep breath did the trick.

“je vous aime aussi,” (I like you too). she blurted out so quickly, he looked at her with a confused smile and a tilted head.

“qu'est-ce que c'était, chérie?” (what was that, darling?) his voice was teasing and she knew he knew what she said because now he was just messing with her.

“je vous aime aussi.”

“bien,” his hand wrapped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hand while their lips collided. her eyes widening in shock as her hands met the sides of his face, teetering on the edge of his hair.

when they finally parted, deep breaths being the only thing heard as they simply smiled giddily at each other like teenagers. he twirled her hair on his finger as he looked at her with such deep admiration, more than she would've ever thought. the sacrifice her younger sister made paid her back ten times over, and the only things she could do was either just hug her in appreciation, or set her up with one of charles’ friends.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves

proofread by @foreveralbon <3

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webslingingslasher · 8 months

Note

Not to be annoying but I rlly hope u write some kind of blurb for the jealous frat!Peter when someone flirts w reader after they are officially boyfriend girlfriend bc u wanna assess what kind of relationship they'll have after all the emotional trauma and angstttttt (idk if u got my first ask though)

*cleaning out my inbox*

kisses scattered across your face woke you up, hair tickled your nose, and you showed you were awake by lightly pushing on peter’s shoulder. it's just too early.

'can't snooze me, trouble. you're the one that told me to wake you up.' another round of kisses, your wake up call isn't that terrible. 'c'mon, up and at 'em. you've got a midterm to study for, leslie's waiting for you.'

his reasoning doesn't make you move any quicker, it was on leslie for choosing saturday morning as peak study time. you weren't even able to hang at the party last night, instead you hunkered down in peter's room and lightly woke when he crawled into bed around one to tug you into his side.

'it's so early.' peter pouts against your cheek, 'you'll survive. you've been putting in overtime this week. i swear that you've hung out with leslie everyday.' it's true, and like peter said before your first study session 'you'll feel your brain grow, super proud of you.' there's no question you'll ace the midterm.

'promise me you'll let me sleep in tomorrow?' a flurry of kisses, you savor them, you know it's the last attack of the day. 'you got it.'

---

peter thought you could use a little pick me up, so, he gladly walked into the library doors with your favorite fast food. it might've been slightly selfish, because he knows he just won himself some brownie points.

it took him a minute, but he found you. back in the study section, lightly kicking your feet under the table. you were nodding your head while chewing on the end of your pen, peter's heart picked up; he couldn't wait to see the look on your face.

you laugh, he smiles. peter moves around a bookcase and comes to a sudden stop. sitting right next to you, was a guy. he had your total attention, no other sign of people around you, peter couldn't even try to pretend it had turned into a last minute group session.

peter finds it hard to swallow, it's not that you're not allowed to hang out with guys, it's the fact that you lied about it. was there ever a leslie, or was it code for this guy the whole time?

the answer will be in your reaction, and he's about to catch you. you don't see him coming, your eyes flash to the bag on the table then to the hand setting it down. you almost burst at the seams, a surprise visit and your favorite food.

'peter!' you wince at your tone, a nasty look from the table next to you gets a silent apology. 'what are you doing here?' you're already digging through the bag, you miss the inspection he's doing on your study partner. you also miss the way he's avoiding peter's eyes.

'just wanted to say hi,' you chew on a fry and hold your mouth closed while you pucker, a chaste kiss. 'hi.' you swallow and tap on the arm next to you, peter follows the motion closely. 'have you met peter yet?'

'uh, no.' he scoots closer to the table, you shrug and look up at peter. he has his focus on leslie, it seems more intimidating than friendly. when your study buddy looks to you for help, peter loses it.

'trouble? wanna come talk to me for a minute?' you frown, your fries are at the perfect temperature. 'but, you-' the look in peter's eyes tells you he isn't playing, a sense of urgency has you scooting your chair back.

the second you're ducked behind a shelf, it spits out. 'who the fuck is that?' peter's tone has you drawing your head back, it's sudden and aggressive. 'who, leslie?' he laughs, 'nice try, who is he?'

it feels accusatory, you take a slight step back. 'that's leslie, peter.' he snorts, 'and you left out the fact he's a guy?' the reason for his sudden change makes you feel dirty, you don't like how he's directing his words.

'i didn't feel like it had to be spesified.' peter nods sarcastically, 'so i tell you i'm hanging out with... jordan, and i've been around them for hours a day, for the entire week then you find out it's a chick and you wouldn't mind? not even a little bit?'

'it depends on what you're doing with her.' a dry laugh, 'you knew exactly what the fuck you were doing with that name shit. don't stand here and tell me i'm the idiot.'

he's making you feel sad, you don't understand how peter could think of you like that. 'i don't understand why you're so upset.' peter tugs at his snapback, scratching at his curls, he replaces it.

'because you're my fucking girlfriend.'

your arms cross, 'so i can no longer hang out with any other guy?' maybe you were being a little difficult, but he's the one that implied you were cheating, or at the very least capable of it.

'jesus christ, that's what you jump to? no, honey-' the name sounded sour, '-it's the fact that you knew i'd think he was a girl and you didn't try to change that.'

'i don't see why it matters.' peter feels like he's talking in circles and he really wants to break from the conversation because he can feel his frustration building, he's about to start saying things he'll regret.

'it doesn't!' you pull on his arm with wide eyes, your head spins to look around. peter brings himself to a whisper shout, 'it doesn't fucking matter, but it starts to matter when you lie to me.'

'don't make it seem like i'm cheating on you.' you tried to ease him down, like the two had nothing in common. it was the wrong choice of words, a fire blazed in peter's eyes. you stepped back when peter pointed a finger at you, for once, he's making you feel really small.

'you're the one who brought up cheating. go back to your fucking friend, i'm done.'

you try to grab onto his wrist, but peter shakes you off like you're nothing. 'peter,' he has no interest in what you have to say, you can't follow him, he's too quick. 'peter!'

when he's out of sight you look down at the ground and sigh. peter was right, you knew what you were doing by alluding to the fact leslie was a girl. and peter doesn't care when you hang out with other guys, but because you left that part out, you've been lying by omission and it makes everything seem worse than it is.

you just don't know what he meant by 'i'm done,' and you really hope it just pertains to the conversation. either way, you shuffle back to your table with a tail between your legs and hope to god peter would let you apologize.

---

gentle knocks at the frat door, you were scared that if you gave peter a heads up, he'd bolt.

'uh oh, you're in trouble.' ethan has a smug look, it tells you that he's been preparing for you to show up. 'how much?' you need to know your chances before you can think of your plea bargain.

ethan wavers, 'he was... upset.' you hold your face between your hands as you slide in, mumbling out a 'fuck,' before building confidence to move up the stairs.

you lightly tap on your boyfriend's door, when there's no response you slowly twist the door knob. peter's lying on his bed, ankles crossed while a book covers his face.

'peter?' the door clicks shut. you timidly step forward, 'petey?' nothing from him, just a slight adjustment and he's back to reading. 'did we break up?'

the book drops, you're looking right at him. 'no, we didn't break up.' you can breathe a little bit better even if he went back to glaring at words, the main anxiety was flushed. 'okay, good.' you reach the end of his bed, rubbing at his shin you try to soften him up.

'i love you.' peter has a very unimpressed glance when you capture his total attention by taking a seat, pushing into his thighs. 'i don't know why i didn't tell you leslie was a guy, i mean, i honestly forgot but when you started saying she... i didn't correct you.' your fingers twiddle with the band of his watch, 'and i don't know why, i guess i wasn't thinking about it like that. but yeah, i'd feel a bit cheated if you did the same to me.'

'you keep saying cheat.'

cheating is almost number one in things you should never do to your partner, but for some reason, it really hits something in peter. just saying the word, out of context, has him pulling from your touch.

'peter, c'mon, stop it. you know what i mean. i'd never, ever cheat on you. i love you too much. i was on the spot and i thought you were implying i was cheating, and i was trying to say i wasn't cheating but then i think you took that as a guilty conscious coming forward and admitting i was cheat-'

'please stop saying cheating. please.'

you hold your mouth shut, a sheepish look crosses over your face. 'sorry.' it comes out as a mumble, it's an uncomfortable silence. you don't really know what to say, or do. you smash repetitive clicks on the side button of peter's watch, when you take a peek, he's watching your hands.

you're really trying, but you need to wash away any idea of it from his head. 'it's just that i never want you to think i'm cheating-' you're shocked into silence when peter rips his arm from you.

'fucking quit it with the cheating, trouble.' you open and close your mouth like a guppy, nothing sounds right. 'i know you don't like it, but i just need you to know that me hiding that leslie was a guy didn't mean i was trying to-'

'say cheat one more time, i fucking dare you.'

you stay silent. 'i don't know how to fix it, peter. i'm sorry i lied, and i’m sorry i keep saying the 'c' word.' you jump at peter's stage claps, you never knew how sarcastic a noise could sound.

'there we go! that was hard, huh?' it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, you frown at him. 'you don't need to be so condescending.' peter snorts, 'and you don't need to be lying about girls who are guys that wanna fuck you.'

you freeze on the spot, pushing the words out like they'll make you puke if you think too hard about them. 'leslie doesn't want to fuck me.' peter nudges your back with his knee, 'you're cute.'

you shake your head, 'i mean it. he knows you're my boyfriend, i talk about you all the time.'

'that's so cute, you're so cute.' you push his arm, 'i mean it, peter! i promise he wants nothing to do with me, he even told me he likes someone else.'

peter plays along for the sake of it, 'oh, yeah? he does? let me guess... it's someone you know.' you light up, 'yes! he wouldn't tell me if we were friends, but he said i know her!'

'right, right. and she's super pretty, right? maybe a little outgoing?' it's impressing how well peter knows this. 'yes-' peter keeps going, 'maybe intimidating because she'd never notice him? and how she might not be into a guy like him?'

peter's ticked every single box; your eyebrows furrow, a supercut of every moment you've had with your study partner runs through your mind. you see where you've been dumb on hints, and how you very much are... the girl you know.

'and that might be because she...' you fill in the blanks with shame, 'has a boyfriend.' it's muttered in a deep tone, pitch mocking peter's next words.

a brew of frustration, not on peter, but on men in general. you can't even study without being hunted? and why the fuck does peter know the game so well?

'this is bullshit! what the fuck is your problem?' you stand and glare down at peter, demanding him to answer on behalf of the world's male population. peter holds a hand on his chest, 'what the fuck is my problem? i don't know, what did i do?'

'you!' you point at him, again, a placeholder for all feminine rage. 'you fucking- you're a... you're a man and you suck and why am i constantly fucking sexualized? all i wanted-' you suck in for air, you don't know why you feel a lump in your throat, is this something really worth crying over? yes.

'all i wanted was a friend.' no tears, you're full of anger again. who does that to a person? 'and the whole time i'm being baited? i just wanted to pass my fucking class, peter! i wanted to do it without your help and the second i don't have a fucking man tied to my hip, i'm being plotted against?'

'trouble,' peter's heart hurts and you can hear it.

'no! it's so unfair, and it's unfair that you'll never understand it. it's unfair that i have to live my entire life afraid of what's behind my shoulder. it's unfair that i can't be left alone. even when i make it clear i already have the person i want. it's just-'

you sink next to peter, he sits up to hug you. 'unfair. it's really, really unfair and i'm sorry i can't relate or understand. i'm sorry you thought you had a friend, i'm sorry you feel like you can't relax, and i'm sorry i rubbed it in your face.'

he did rub it in your face.

'you have plenty of guy friends with good intentions that would do anything to keep you out of harm's way. that includes calling out other guys that may not have them, but i could've been nicer. i'm sorry i'm just a man sometimes. i'll work on it, i promise.'

you melt into his touch, peter is very much just a man sometimes. but he's your man and always good at calling himself out when he needs it. 'is that why you thought i cheated on you?'

'the next time you say cheat, you owe me twenty bucks.' you ignore the quip, 'is it?'

peter scoffs as he rubs your back. 'i didn't think you were cheating, trouble. i was upset that my girlfriend was lying about who she was hanging out with.' a slew of kisses to your hairline follow.

'and maybe a little jealous.' you laugh, there's nothing for him to be jealous over, but he's super serious and pulls away to cup your face so you're looking right at him.

'because you're my baby, and i need it to stay that way.'

#frat!peter drabbles

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cvpidsb0ws · 2 years

Text

❛CONFESSIONS.❜ | alice in borderland characters

genre: FLUFFFLUFFFLUFF <333

warnings: NONE I THINK!!

sypnosis: headcanons of alice in borderland characters confessing to you.

author's note: did i disappear after just one aouad imagine then appear again with an alice in borderland obsession? yes i did. 😁😁😁😁 !not proofread!

――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

ryohei arisu

RYOHEI ARISU WOULD BE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR YOU. ONLY YOU.

he's definitely that kind of person to hide his feelings because he's scared of rejection

so that means he's the type to not make the first move at all CONSIDERING HE'S A SHY BB!!!!!!!

BUT BUT BUT HE'LL PROBABLY GROW FED UP OF YOU NOT GETTING THE HINT OF HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR YOU

SO IT WOULD LEAD TO HIM FINALLY CONFESSING AAAAAAAAAAA

arisu would probably be anxious the whole time 😭😭😭😭 like shaking, sweaty palms, stuttering, uncontrollable laughter, etc

HE WOULD PROBABLY CONFESS AT A PICNIC OR SOMETHING SIMILAR <333

he would try his best to cook all of your favorite foods even though he sucks at cooking💪💪

he would buy a bouquet of your favorite flowers!!!!!!!!

OH AND HE WOULD ALSO WRITE A LETTER WHERE HE PUTS 100 FUCKING REASONS WHY HE LOVES YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

he's the type to prepare cue cards because he know he would fumble while he confesses

LIKE HE PROBABLY PREPARED A WHOLE ASS SPEECH BUT THERE WOULD BE A MOMENT WHEN HE JUST STARES AT YOU AND REALIZE HOW MUCH HE LOVES YOU WHICH KIND OF LEADS HIM TO JUST SAYING A SIMPLE "i love you"

yuzuha usagi

YUZUHA USAGI WOULD ONLY HAVE YOU AS HER WEAKNESS.

she's someone who has always been fearless, bold, and etc🙀🙀🙀 SO WHEN SHE STARTS TO HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU, OFC SHE FEELS CONFLICTED OR CONFUSED

probably because she's strong and you making her flustered meant her downfall😁😁

she wasn't complaining though

USAGI WOULDN'T TAKE LONG TO CONTEMPLATE HER FEELINGS FOR YOU THO

if she liked you, then she liked you :)))

AND SHE WOULDN'T BE SCARED OF CONFESSING AT ALL BUT SHE WOULD STILL HAVE HER DOUBTS

doubts that chased her every time she went for a run or climbed a mountain‼️‼️‼️

SHE WOULD PROBABLY BRING YOU TO HER FAVORITE MOUNTAIN BEFORE THE SUN COMES UP

AND SHE WOULD INVITE YOU TO SIT ON THE GROUND AS THE SUN CRACKS LIKE AN EGG YOLK IN THE SKY

she won't even realize that you have already lied your head against her shoulder

AND THAT'S WHAT TRIGGERS HER TO SAY SHE HAS FEELINGS FOR YOU

shuntaro chishiya

chishiya is chishiya. self explanatory. <3

HE WOULD BE IN DENIAL FOR THE LONGEST TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

he will not want to accept the fact that he fell for someone since he has the master manipulator factors and all💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯

but you were an exception ;)))

he would practically go from being a logical person to a carefree one for you LIKE HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT THINGS WHEN HE'S WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU MAKE HIM FORGET THINGS WORTH WORRYING (and as much as he hates to admit you make him happy)

he would act cold, tease you 25/8 just to cover up the fact he has feelings for you

HE WOULD PROBABLY CONFESS BY HIDING ENVELOPES THAT HELD RIDDLES OR CLUES FOR YOU TO FIND

AND THOSE ENVELOPES WOULD LEAD YOU TO WHERE YOU FIRST MET

he knew you were clever enough to solve them :)

he would stand there waiting while he was wearing a suit that made him itch (BUT HE WOULD REMEMBER THE TIME YOU SAID MEN IN SUITS WERE ATTRACTIVE)

he would also have shampooed and conditioned hair for effort🙏🙏🙏🔥🔥🔥

AND A SIMPLE "i may or may not have feelings for you" WOULD HAVE SUFFICED AS HIS CONFESSION

hikari kuina

YOU WOULD BE HIKARI KUINA'S SOFT SPOT.

she would be too scared to be rejected by you because she didn't want to ruin your friendship

but she would still be confident on confessing #kuinathingzzzzzz

PROBABLY BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO PROVE SHE WAS BRAVE-

SHE WOULD CONFESS BY CHALLENGING YOU

LIKE SHE WOULD INVITE YOU TO FIGHT HER FOR 5 ROUNDS BECAUSE SHE TOLD YOU SHE HAD A SECRET THAT YOU COULD ONLY FOUND OUT IF U WON AGAINST HER.

spoiler: she loses to you on purpose because she knows how much you hate losing😍😍😍😍

SHE LOVED WINNING BUT SHE WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU TO HAVE A SMILE ON YOUR FACE

her being the reason for a smile on your face made her weak🙏🙏🙏🙏

she would also give u a prize for winning <333

EITHER A RING, A NECKLACE, OR A BRACELET

AND SHE WAS THE ONE TO MAKE THEM BY HAND WITH BEADS

although it frustrsted her, she knew it would make you smile

"i love you . . . like so much."

suguru niragi

admit it. suguru nigari will not catch feelings for anyone at all.

unless it's you ofc😍😍😍😍🙏🙏🙏🙏

BUT HE HATED THE FEELING

HE HATED HOW MUCH HE GREW FOND OF YOU

HE HATED HOW YOU MADE HIM BLUSH, FEEL BUTTERFLIES FLUTTERING IN HIS STOMACH, GROW A SMIRK INTO A SMILE, AND MORE.

he would also be confused about his feelings since he's niragi😆😆😆😆

LET'S BE HONEST BECAUSE THIS MAN IS STUBBORN ASF AND WILL NOT CONFESS AT ALL.

he would probably drop big ass hints to wait for you to confess

BUT YOU WOULDN'T GET ANYTHING WHICH CAUSES HIM TO BE ANNOYED

AND SOON ENOUGH

"fuck it, i like you, dumbass."

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland x reader #aib #aib x reader #ryohei arisu x reader #arisu x reader #yuzuha usagi x reader #usagi x reader #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya x reader #hikari kuina x reader #kuina x reader #suguru nigari x reader #niragi x reader

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thesilmarillionblog · 2 months

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟺

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, PTSD, violence, suspense, hurt, Soldier Boy gets hurt,

Word Count: 4433

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Whispering “Earving?” once more, you trailed him to shadowy spots where fewer people were present. Though you knew you would have to deal with this eventually, you couldn't help but feel uneasy about what lay ahead.

When he halted, you took care to keep your distance.

You walked up to him and asked, “Why are you not talking to me?” to let him know you weren't a threat and that all you wanted to do was communicate. “Did you know what happened to me?”

Your eyes widened in suspicion as he examined you from head to toe before you told him anything further. To your surprise, Earving lifted his hand and pulled his blades from his back in a menacing manner.

Your heart was pounding as you whispered, “What the hell are you doing?” It also hurt you to see him preparing for a fight, and you shook your head in disbelief. “Don't you ever try it.”

You immediately defended yourself with your fists when he struck you with his blades, as though he were going to cut your skin. Thank goodness for your training sessions with Ben; you were starting to feel a little better and in shape.

Earving attacked your legs again, forced you to the ground, briefly restrained you, and attempted to strangle you. But you reclaimed your hands from his gloved ones, struck his masked head, and violently shoved him on the ground.

You said, “The company lied to everyone,” before he struck you once more. I'm not a traitor."

Even though you tried to persuade him that neither you nor the government were your enemies or vice versa, he didn't seem to be listening to you and kept attacking you even though he knew you were still stronger than him.

You shoved his head hard against the wall in front of you, forcing him to think straight. “I'm not blaming you for what happened,” you blurted out. “I just want you to know I'm still your friend. I understand your reasons about why you didn't visit me or try to save me.”

After you hit his head against the wall a few times, he managed to break free from your hold and push you back until your back cracked the wall and made a hole in it.

“What the hell, Earving?” Your t-shirt tore from your stomach to your chest as you screamed at him in aggravation. “You must hear what I'm telling you because I am speaking the truth. Vought lied about me to you and to everyone else, and they studied my body for decades in a lab to make the next supe generation better, to make it perfect.”

You said, “For God's sake,” fighting back tears as you were overcome by all that had transpired so quickly. Your hands balled into fists as you prepared for yet another blow. “If you attack me again, I swear I'm going to leave a huge amount of fucking damage on you.”

When his phone started ringing, Earving saw your rage rising and plunged his blades into his back once more. Before you could even respond, he vanished into the darkness once more.

After you hurried back to the van without drawing attention from civilians, Frenchie noticed your torn t-shirt and messy hair and wrapped his hands around his head, practically yelling, “Mon Dieu, where did you go? What on earth happened to you?”

After sitting down next to him and seeing the screen in front of you, you muttered, “Nothing,” as you looked around for Kimiko.

“Clearly, it's not just 'nothing.' Have you been spotted by anyone? Have you had a fight?”

“No,” you instantly told a lie. You didn't know if this was the correct moment to discuss the actual events that transpired.

Frenchie looked at you, her eyes narrowing. “You look like you've just had a fight,” he questioned.

“I told you nothing happened,” you yelled angrily, feeling ashamed as the table beneath your hand began to crack. God. You were hopeless. But you remained outraged and wounded by everything that went on. Why would Earving even behave in such a manner?

Frenchie placed his hands in the air and muttered, “Alright, alright,” in a calm but terrified voice. “I'm not going to ask any questions anymore.”

Though you chose to speak with him at a later time, you felt awful for using your position of power to frighten someone who was clearly weaker than you and was only attempting to carry out his own duties.

With concern, you questioned, “Is Kimiko okay? I can help her if it's needed.”

“No,” Frenchie said, displaying his happy expression on the TV. “Pay attention to her remarkable speed and talent. Kimiko is a unique lady.”

Your eyes darted around the busy street, your super-hearing tuned in to every sound, and you continued to stare at the screen in front of you. Memories of your surprise altercation with your former best friend flashed across your memory. Why would he ever attack you like he actually wanted to kill you? Was Ben correct when he said Earving was only loyal to Vought and no one else?

It was painful that, despite everyone's lack of loyalty toward you, you continued to show loyalty to those who had previously betrayed you and stabbed you in the back. You couldn't decide if you or they had a problem. Either you were difficult to understand, or it was simply difficult to love you.

“She's done,” Frenchie remarked as he opened the door and prepared to go. Kimiko gave him a quick shoulder pat.

“Let's fucking go.”

It would be better if you called Ben at home.

Ben's footsteps sped up to Herogasm as his eyes looked for TNT Twins. You were quite correct to despise this accursed and abnormal place. He was very into public sex, threesomes, gangbang while high, and all things associated, so he had enjoyed the twisted notion when he found it with Stormfront Bitch, but now it seemed like a new room straight out of hell. God was fucking missing from this place. Even though he occasionally wanted to, at least he was relieved that he refrained from joining it while he was with you.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he was a little afraid of his own physical needs when Butcher told him they were going to Herogasm the day before since he hadn't fucked anyone since he was free. Besides, he wasn't used to taking himself in hand so frequently without fucking someone for so long, even if he jerked off like a fucking teenager two or three times a day. He felt much better, though, knowing that he had no feelings at all regarding anyone or anything related to Herogasm.

At this point, Ben was positive he would never want to visit this absurd place again. But as soon as he could, he had to fuck you raw.

Ben can't argue that he felt much safer having faith in you about anything because he was aware of your unwavering devotion to him in spite of everything he had done.

After all, loyalty to him was the most important thing in a partnership, and two people being devoted to one another was sufficient for a lifetime of companionship.

He was still thinking about your exposed ass from your nightdress, remembering how you appeared on the bed this morning. He was surprised at how effortlessly, and without even trying, you could make him rock hard. Getting on top of you, ripping off your underwear, and sliding into your swollen cunt would be so fucking easy. But in reality, it wasn't that simple.

Feeling his hardness returning over your thought, Ben muttered, “Oh, fuck.”

Ben scowled and picked up the smoke bomb that had suddenly been thrown between his legs, thinking it could help him become a little high or divert his attention.

“Halothene,” he said, glancing at the man who had thrown it to him. “What were you going to do with that?”

The man repositioned himself, bracing himself for combat. Ben took a step toward him and sighed. The man's heart was pounding uncontrollably.

“Not him,” Butcher stated firmly.

Ben immediately nodded to Butcher. Anyhow, he was not in the mood to murder someone who was weak.

He took a deep breath and tried not to get furious when his eyes eventually spotted the TNT Twins. When Ben saw their eyes widen in fear, he grinned. They were obviously taken aback to see him again.

“Soldier Boy,” they muttered in tandem as they looked to one another for the right words. “It was Noir's idea; you must know that.”

“Was it?” Ben inquired as he gently inched closer to them, his shield tightening around his hand.

The woman answered, “Yes,” quite quickly. “And the Crimson Countess. They conspired to deceive Y/N and you as well.”

He said TNT Twins, “Noir can't even shit without Vought's permission,” after hearing your name. “Did you know that she spent decades in a lab having her body studied? Did you know that Vought intentionally deceived everyone?”

The sister asked, “Why does it matter?” before the man spoke.”All we did was follow instructions. Not that we desired to, though.”

They were aware of it. Ben shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, careful not to blow this place up. “You two will speak up against Vought to the media, tell them what they did to me and Y/N, and tell me where the fuck is Mindstorm. You two will come with me and fucking fix what you have done. If not, I'm fucking going to kill you both.” Ben spoke in a ferocious manner, clearly threatening them.

They cried out in shock, “Fuck no,” sounding as though they would sooner die than stand up to Vought anyway.

They locked hands and prepared to strike him, acting as though they would only cause minor harm to his body. The Russians did their best to harm him; of course, none of them worked. Ben was in disbelief that he used to work with the world's most worthless and foolish superheroes.

Ben's supe hearing was triggered by a Russian song played by another supe in a different room before he spoke. He attempted to contain himself, and his palm closed tightly around his shield and closed his eyes.

But the enormous power that was beginning to emerge was much bigger than him at that precise moment because of the horrific memories from the lab he had spent decades confined to. Ben's final thought before blowing up the entire place was of you. He should never have come here without you.

Once you were in your room, you decided to give Ben a call after some time had passed. You were informed that the person you called could not be reached at that time. You threw the phone on your bed and yelled, “Asshole,” out of anger.

The damage had already been done when Ben awoke. Fuck it. This time, he had made an extremely serious mistake. He was sure he'd be on the news tonight.

A man across the room likewise appeared to have a strange cape when Butcher came to approach Ben.

“Soldier Boy and William Butcher,” he murmured. Ben and Butcher exchanged looks. “Oh, god. You were behind this. This whole thing was your idea. William, we made a deal with you to fight to the death. You and me.”

Ben struggled to figure out what was going on between them as Butcher offered him a confident look. Homelander went on, “This is cheating. The deal is off.”

Homelander's gaze lasered Butcher against the wall as soon as he finished his speech. Ben sighed after giving Butcher a quick glance.

“You were my hero growing up; I have watched all your movies hundreds of times.” Ben offered Homelander a degrading grin as he spoke admiringly. The guy with the blonde hair had the worst suit ever. It was a shame.

“You were the only one who was as strong as me.”

“Buddy,” Ben said, not giving a damn about Homelander’s words at all. “You think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape. You’re just a cheap fucking knockoff.”

Homelander's jaw tightened, and his eyes grew enraged as Ben repeatedly insulted him. He was enraged hearing such stuff from the supe he idolized since he was a child.

“Oh, no, no,” Homelander responded without fear. “I’m the upgrade.”

When Homelander attacked, Soldier Boy started to punch him again and again, but Homelander was well-trained too; he was indeed as good as Ben in combat skills. He wasn't like the weak supes in Payback; Homelander was indeed built different. However, this didn't make Ben feel a thing at all. Homelander was just another supe who was just more than a bit easy to deal with. That's all. In fact, it would be a good training for Ben to warm up.

Ben briefly lost control of the momentum and gave Homelander the advantage as they continued to hit one another. Ben looked on in confusion as Butcher rose and then lasered Homelander as well.

“What have you done?” Confused, Homelander murmured.

Ben stood up, yanking Homelander by his useless cape and violently throwing him against the wall as he ascended in the air, and their lasered eyes engaged in combat.

Following Homelander's escape, Butcher and Ben struck him simultaneously, shattering the wall behind them.

Homelander tried to laser Hughie after he broke up the brawl in his nude form, but Hughie was too fast for him.

Ben effortlessly grabbed Homelander by the arm and pushed him to the ground, keeping him there while Butcher and Hughie also helped him.

Butcher yelled, “Do it,” as Ben attempted to go full force this time.

Ben pushed himself to concentrate on the enormous power shining behind his chest, but for some reason he was unable to release it. His tendency to explode when he didn't mean to was annoying, but he couldn't use his new abilities when he needed them. Perhaps it was because, just moments before, he had already blown up.

Homelander groaned like an animal under threat when he realized he was going to be slaughtered by them. With a single, fierce roar, he drove everyone from his body as he fled away.

With a mumble of curses, Butcher turned to face the sky.

Ben didn't give a fuck at all, even if he was eager to kill Homelander while he knew he had more pressing problems at hand. Murdering Homelander was easy to do. However, he had to seize control of the company and turn the tables as quickly as possible.

Ben grabbed the phone out of his pocket to try to call you as he stood up and straightened his suit, but it didn't work.

Ben growled, “Fuck this,” and turned to face Butcher. “Call Y/N right now.”

Butcher said, “Give me some slack, for God's sake,” as he got up and brushed off the dust from his coat.

Ben snatched the phone from Butcher's hand as soon as it began ringing and gave him a cold glare while Hughie and he pleaded with him to get out of there.

Ben, who was a little nervous, walked to the car quicker than Butcher and Hughie.

Ben muttered, “Give me a fucking moment,” as Butcher and Hughie entered the vehicle and looked at him.

It had only been an hour since you went to sleep when your phone rang. You answered it while you rubbed your eyes and exclaimed, “What?”

You had cried uncontrollably because of what transpired between you and Earving, since you hadn't anticipated his treachery to be that severe and brutal.

Ben said, “I guess I couldn't give you a call because my battery is dead. Are you now at home?”

Your eyes widened with suspicion. “How unlucky!” you murmured in a sour tone. “And yes.”

“Something terrible happened,” he sighed. You were scared by the underlying fragility in his voice, which made you feel no longer sleepy. He whispered your name and continued, “I messed up badly.”

Your heart raced, and you temporarily forgot about your own issues as you were anxious at hearing an unsettling and insecure tone in his voice. You prepared yourself to receive the worst news. “What did you do this time?”

Ben's jaw tightened at your disappointed complaint. Even though he was making an effort, it had been a while since he had disappointed someone with such severity, making him feel like a total failure. Ben parted his lips to speak, but he truly had no idea what to say or how to convince you that he wouldn't let you down the next time. He knew that had become one of his professions nowadays.

“Well, let's talk when I come home. We're going to head out, so I suppose I'll be there by morning.”

He immediately hung up the phone without waiting for you to say anything more. He was a little embarrassed by his unpredictable actions and wasn't sure how you would respond. In the meantime, he would be thinking about this.

You sighed and attempted to return to sleep, but it took you an hour to put your issues aside and allow your ailing body to rest.

Instantly opening your eyes and got off the bed upon hearing a door close in the room next door, you realized it was Ben.

You knocked on his door and said, “Ben?” even though it was still open.

He turned to face you after putting his shield next to his bed and said, “You don't have to knock it. You are welcome to show up at any time, sweetie.”

Even if he was attempting to make jokes to rile you up, his tone was anything but funny and suggested that he was distressed.

You approached him and gently closed the door, asking, “Can we talk now?”

He also approached you and gave you a hug after leaving his chest material on the table, preventing you from speaking. You let out a sound as his fingers gripped your back firmly, and his chest seemed warmer than before. You held back your hug, but you also didn't press for an answer in the hopes that he would calm himself down and tell you.

You attempted to ignore his fingers as they moved over your body, but your chin lingered on his muscular shoulder. You were surprised that he wasn't trying to make sexual contact with you, and you wondered what had happened to make him act that way while you were apart.

"I missed you," Ben said softly,

Ben has always hated to say things like this and felt like the helpless, weak men in the movies, but he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed since he knew you needed his help and he kept failing you repeatedly even though it wasn't his intention. Ben hesitated to admit that he needed you more than ever because he knew that if you had been there, you could have stopped him from using his freshly developed powers to explode and kill some people.

If he could simply kidnap the TNT Twins and make them speak negatively about the company, then that would also be a great opportunity for you. They would also provide him with information regarding Mindstorm, which can be beneficial in your case.

His body stiffened as he breathed in your hair.

He aggressively remarked, “You smell something different,” smelling you a little more forcefully this time. “Like someone I know.”

You put your arms around his biceps and murmured, “Quit smelling me and calm down,” as you didn't make him feel angry. He appeared as though he was about to lose it. “I'll tell you when you tell me about what happened in Herogasm.”

“I blew up the entire place.”

“Ben!” you said, pushing his hands aside as your shocked eyes grew wider. “Why?”

His voice was dry as he spoke hurriedly, “I didn't mean to.” While you waited for him to continue, Ben looked around and considered how to explain everything. He then remarked, “It's... the same thing happened in Midtown. I was speaking with TNT Twins about Vought and attempting to persuade them to voice against it.”

His eyes went dark, as if he was uncomfortable and didn't want to continue.

You placed a hand on his chest when you noticed he was having trouble with his inner thoughts, in an attempt to calm him down and encourage him to speak. You said, “And?” gently.

“I heard a Russian song,” he furiously and unsettlingly declared. Placing his hand over yours to make sure you understood, he added, “I guess it's kind of a triggering thing for this thing to get activated.”

He interrupted you right away before you could say anything, saying, “I really tried to stop it. I did not mean to disappoint you or mess things up like this. Not at this particular moment.”

You muttered, “Don't worry about that. It wouldn't be the first time.”

“Yeah.” He gave you a small smile to lighten the situation and murmured to you, as if he were also trying to suppress the anger in your voice since he understood you had every right to speak in that manner. “However, I will speak with Butcher and ask him to locate Mindstorm as soon as possible in order to resolve your problem. Perhaps I might want to amend our agreement regarding Homelander.”

You muttered, “I don't know, Ben,” at a loss for what to do. “It's becoming uncontrollable. Tonight, everyone will be talking about you once more. First, we must figure out how to clean up this mess.”

He immediately raised his voice and said, “Fuck them,” not wanting to think about Vought or the media at all. “You do not think of such things. I'll soon have things under control. The first thing we need to solve is your situation about your powers, okay?”

“But why?”

“Because you come first,” he stated with a serious attitude.

Your cheeks heated a little under his focused look, and you retrieved your hands from him before heading to his bed and sitting to put an end to the intense moment.

As you settled onto his bed, Ben's eyes narrowed, and he started thinking inappropriate things. You need to have spent the entire day and night beneath him, getting as much fuck as you both needed to make you tremble around his cock.

As he began to remove his suit, including his pants, you were thinking about how to talk to him about yourself and Earving without irritating him. Ben didn't seem to care that you were in the room or that you were staring at him while he got undressed.

He was putting on his gray sweatpants, and you were looking for a t-shirt when all of a sudden you stated, “I fought Noir.”

“What the hell?”

He sat on the bed next to you and swiftly turned to face you. “When did this happen? How in the world did this son of a bitch track you?”

You murmured, “Calm,” as you noticed his veins starting to show. “Frenchie and I were in the van, and Kimiko had something to do. At that moment, I noticed him watching me from across the street.”

“Fuck, I knew from the way you smelt that bitter, like get into my nerves.” He questioned, without you even finishing your sentence, “And?”

You sighed as you noticed his growing impatience. “I wanted to talk to him, so I followed him until he stopped. I suppose I was naive.”

Even though you were feeling vulnerable just now, you went on. “He didn't say a thing at all, and I don't know why, but he attacked me.”

“Fucking betraying son of a bitch, I should have murdered him when I had the chance.” Ben's hands were fisted on the bed, and his mind was racing with ideas as he growled with fury. “Did he do something to you?”

“Of course not,” you said with a sorrowful inner smile. “He would never be able to hurt me, even if he tried a hundred times.”

You winked at Ben, and he laughed. It gave you some relief to watch him become more relaxed.

Playfully, he asked, “You're a fierce thing, aren't you?”

“Sometimes,” you replied with a smug grin. Ben noticed that you looked sad, and that's when your thoughts of Earving flashed across your mind.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Stop worrying about that cunning cocksucker. You see, he was always a puppet of Stan Edgar and Vought. It has nothing to do with you. This won't ever, ever change.”

With a nod, you examined his bedroom and replied, “Yeah, I can see it clearly now.”

He cleared his throat. “You know, you can sleep in here whenever you want. You see, my bed is pretty bigger than yours, obviously more comfortable.”

You arched an eyebrow suspiciously and asked, “Are you thinking funny things?”

“It's something I would never dare do,” he grinned.

When he mentioned sleeping, you couldn't stop yawning and felt your body preparing to go back to sleep. You were aware that he wouldn't touch you without your consent, following what transpired between you.

You rested your head on one of the pillows and mumbled, “Ben,” your eyes nearly closing from sudden exhaustion. “Can we continue training tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

Ben felt his heart soften so much at the sight of you sleeping off in his bed that he felt as though he could soon lose his mind. It had only dawned on him that he needed to pay attention to such a minor thing. The amount of control you had over him when he awoke from decades of sleep was insane. Perhaps he had been blind and sleeping for a lot longer than he realized.

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope I didn’t fuck up this chapter, lol..And I know it is kind of slow, but I don’t want to rush things, since the reader went through a lot. Comments and reblogs are appreciated very much. They keep me going. ♡˚.

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeb @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady

@certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner @jenn-777q @hey-there0-0 @purplerosequartz @shadowghoul2525 @darkqueen1995 @simpin4pixels @deebris @spideybv28 @mystic-mara @tranquilty @winchesterwild78

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series. ♡˚.

Losing You series Masterlist is here.

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sthavoc · 6 months

Note

Hey so Idk you will like this idea cause it has some angst in it but...

What about a fix where enzo was planning a special date but then enzo and the reader have a big argument because of the rumours of him and atiana cause the reader has trust issues caused by a past relationship and it does end up in a break up but he goes and chases after her. BUT the thing about the date was that...

He was going to propose to her.

౨ৎ⋆˚ 💍 𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: with all the rumors about enzo and aitana you were having trouble with your trust issues, before the both of you headed to a special date enzo couldn’t wait for, you both got in a fight that didn’t end up well, but enzo won’t leave without a fight.

·˚ ༘ warnings: angst, cussing, trust issues, happy ending y’all(I don’t feel like being that cruel for my first angst)

·˚ ༘ note: angst is totally okay if u guys want some! I’m so dramaticcc 😭 I’m so sorry for the wait but I hope you guys like it!! I hope I didn’t miss any grammar mistakes

Trust. What a thing to ask from someone when all they’ve experienced their whole life was lies, lie after lie fills the bottle of trust. Can’t tell the truth because they prefer to have everything instead of one. Can’t tell the truth because they don’t want to hurt your feelings. Can’t tell the truth because they started with a small lie and then got carried away.

For you, trusting a partner takes time and patience. It’s not easy considering most of the few relationships you’ve been in are full of lies. Just bad luck you think, and for some reason you thought it would be different with Enzo. Was it because your heart told you so? Or was it his actions? Who knows. Though you were starting to question it, and it all started when the rumors of him and Aitana began, the pictures of them, the fans asking around if they were a thing.

Reminiscing thinking if anything he ever told you was true, thinking if all was a lie. Your heart would tell you everything was true, but your mind would tell you another. You were tired of it, but you were also tired of hurting Enzo with your issues.

“Dale hermosa se nos hace tarde.” Enzo’s voice snapped you out of your zone. With deep in thought it sounded as if he had called you multiple times.

You didn’t give him an answer and continued to sit on the chair from your vanity. You had finished getting ready, Enzo wanted you to dress up all fancy for a dinner reservation he had made, very special according to him. With your reflection in the mirror, your lips were a shade of red, your dress was white, and your hair was down. All you needed were your shoes.

“Estoy ansioso, espero que te guste.” He beamed. He had been planning this dinner for weeks, plenty of techniques for you not to see anything coming.

“Hm.” was your answer.

Everything was getting to you. Hitting you like a brick wall and bringing down your trust in your boyfriend, and you didn’t want to. You wanted to trust Enzo, but it was absolutely hard when all you ever saw were pictures of him with another woman and comments that only filled your overthinking. It made you think that the people you end up caring for the most are the ones who let you down the hardest. You didn’t want to be there again.

“¿Todo bien?” He halts his movement buttoning up his shirt to shift his attention towards you. Instead of being excited like you usually were, you seemed bummed down, it was worrisome.

“Sí. Todo bien.”

Enzo remained silent for a moment, but the man knew that not everything was fine, he was noticing the signs. You were quiet and distant, and that was your usual answer when things were not fine.

“¿Que pasa?” He used a softer tone to make you feel comfortable. So you could know that if you wanted to talk about something you could.

“Nada.” You decided to keep your words short, and you added a glance spotting that he was staring at you.

He was starting to push your buttons, by any time you were sure to explode or ask him the question.

“Nena, en serio llevas así casi todo el día.” And he was right. You’ve been shutting him out for the whole day, and instead of talking it out you decided to keep it to yourself, but it was maybe time to talk about it. This topic was simply eating you alive and just thinking about it makes your world sink, your stomach turn, and your heart break into a million pieces that won’t be fixed easily.

“¿Tienes algo con Aitana?” The words came out quietly, afraid.

“¿Como?” It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you the first time. He was merely confused as to why you would be asking such a question, and also on such an important day.

“Que si tienes algo con Aitana.” Your voice appeared a little louder than it did before, this was getting you irritated already.

“No-no. Claro que no nena. ¿Per por qué me preguntas eso?” He chuckled trying to come closer to you to hold you, but you didn’t let him. You didn’t feel like letting him hold you in the moment.

“Las fotos de ustedes están por todo el maldito internet, Enzo. Salen muy cerca y-y las fans se preguntan si son algo, ¿que se supone que ahora me pregunte yo?” Your expression had ascended with a hint of wrath in your last sentence.

“Nada. Se supone que no te debes de preguntar nada.” Enzo moved closer and his words emerged with an offensive tone, he tried strengthening his cool, since out of the two he always did. “Y además son solo fotos que están sacadas fueras de contexto.”

“Sí, claro.” You chuckled sarcastically earning Enzo to furrow his brows in disarray. His next questions followed—

“¿Que insinúas? ¿Qué te estoy engañado?”

“No lo sé.” Was your retort.

You didn’t know, truthfully, you yearned to believe that it was just your brain making a mess with you, and not that he could actually be cheating on you. That would be the end for you, and technically it was getting hard for you with how public he was becoming. But you loved the man and you tried for those thoughts to not keep burning you.

“Por Dios, T/N. ¿Que no confías en mí?” That question.

Your eyes glistened with tears that you tried to hold back, you kept telling yourself, “to not ruin the makeup”, but you just didn’t want to cry. “Enzo, sabes que no se me da lo de la confianza.” You blubbered. “Trato pero, me gana el cerebro y juega sus putos juegos conmigo.”

“Lo se pero solo te pido que me creas. Yo te amo.” He strived to grab your hands but you pulled away, and he didn’t make an attempt, understanding that you needed your space. “No te estoy engañando.”

.“Las fans no ven eso, Enzo.” You looked him in the eyes, feeling the burn in your throat. “Las fotos rodeando todo el internet. En ves de que sean de ti y de mi son de ti y Aitana.” your words were starting to increase in volume once again.

“¿Que importa lo que digan?” His eyebrows furrowed as his words showed a hint of anger.

“!No, es que no lo entiendes. No sabes que es lo que se siente al saber que sepan que tienes novia y aún así se pregunten si estás con otra persona, Enzo. Y que suban fotos de ustedes!” you hollered in anger, you felt how the bump in your throat kept getting tighter and tighter, it was even starting to hurt every time you swallowed.

Your words left him stunt at the sudden rise of volume. “Pero si vos y yo sabemos que solo somos los dos, carajo.” He was losing his cool with how his words were starting to rise.

“¿Es en serio?” You sounded with sarcasm. “No solo lo tenemos que saber los dos. ¡Todos lo tienen que saber. Por eso decidimos hacer nuestra relación pública!” Your hand came in the middle making him step back, during this you felt one tear drop onto your cheek. The seconds passed, and with the pain in your voice, you spoke once more, this time more quietly. “Enzo yo no se si podamos seguir juntos.”

Your words stung him like the prick of a flower when you place your finger against it. You meant everything to him, and just the thought of losing you paralyzed him, making him unable to move or speak.

You thought it was for the better. To let him go, for you to leave. Past relationships have taught you and made you think you were the problem. This was the only thing you thought was right.

“N-no chiquita no me digas eso por favor.” He wiped out the barrier grabbing your hands, but you kept on pulling away.

“No. Enzo.” You tore away. “Ya. Te aseguro que estarás mejor sin mi.”

“No digas estupideces por favor nena. Claro que no voy a estar mejor sin vos.” His proclamations were filled with bitterness and frustration, he wasn’t sure what to do to make you change your answer.

“Enzo por favor. No quiero que sigas lidiando con esto que tengo, y yo ya no quiero dudar de ti.”

“Hermosa por favor. No me dejes, podemos arreglarlo.” You could see him get on his knees, hugging you from your hips. His force made you unable to move, and you tried to push him away but it was no use. He was stronger than you.

“¡Enzo ya! Se acabo.”

When you said those words you grabbed nothing but your phone ready to leave. You weren’t sure where you would go, but anywhere else that wasn’t where he would be. Right now, being close to the man you thought you would continue to have a life with hurts, hurts more than a cut would. Were you just destined to be alone? or were you just immoral at choosing guys?

When you stepped out of the apartment you felt droplets of rain, the sky cried with you while you rushed towards your car. Soon, a pair of words stopped you, hollering words you weren’t sure you would hear.

“¡¿Sabes que iba a hacer en la cena?!” Enzo called through the rain, it made you turn towards him, while he walked closer. “Te iba a pedir que te casaras conmigo.”

His words made everything around you stop. You had always painted the picture of getting married to Enzo, you just never thought it would happen, or that it ever crossed his mind as well. He wanted you in his life, not just temporarily, but forever.

“¿Casarme contigo?” You hoped you heard correctly and it wasn’t just the rain that made sure you heard what you cared for to hear.

Until Enzo dug into his pocket and took out a navy blue box. New tears began to fall on your cheeks, watching him open it and reveal the silver, diamond ring. You glanced at him, with his hair wet and his tuxedo damped.

“No me puedo imaginar una vida que no sea con vos. Verte sonreír es mi forma de vivir, me dijiste la primera vez que salimos que tenías problemas con confiar. Me pediste no lidiar con eso, pero yo quiero. Quiero lidiar contigo por el resto de mi vida.”

You could have trouble with anything, could have a sickness that takes away his free time, and yet, Enzo wouldn’t go. He would choose you for breath because you are his oxygen, his heaven. He would give up anything to keep you close, to hold you forever.

“Enzo—” You stood speechless and interrupted by thoughts that were all over the place. “No quiero que tu amor por mi desaparezca por culpa de mis problemas. Siento que con el tiempo me dejarás de amar, todos lo hacen.”

“Pero yo no soy todos. Yo doy todo por vos preciosa, eres mi luz. Yo te prometo que voy a hacer que tus dudas desaparezcan, y que no te quede ninguna de que te amo y que de verdad eres la única. La única que quiero en mi vida.”

Having Enzo in your life has been a hell of a rollercoaster, but you can’t also imagine a life without him. Having him around was the best and he always managed to make you smile and feel loved even though you had trouble. So not becoming his fiancée was not an option.

“Sí quiero.” You blurted. It made Enzo confused as to what you meant, but he caught up.

“¿Como?” He just wanted to hear it from you.

“Sí me quiero casar contigo.” The lump in your throat broke the chords of your voice as the tears began to fall. This time out of happiness.

“no juegues conmigo chiquita.” He felt his knees go weak at your answer.

“No.” You laughed with the tears in your eyes. “Enzo, se que soy difícil, pero te amo, y yo sé que tú me amas. Aunque el cerebro juega conmigo, mi corazón sabe.”

Enzo wasted no time in putting the ring on your finger, as his face painted one of the brightest smiles on his lips. His tears were covered by the droplets of rain but the redness above his eyes was yet visible. The man didn’t know if he could hug you or even kiss you, so what you did was pull him by the collar and kiss him with the passion that grew from the depths of your heart.

“Te voy a hacer la mujer más feliz del mundo.” He whispered under his breath with his hand under your cheek, the water slipping between the two. “Nadie te va a amar como yo.”

“Eso ya lo haces.” You giggled pulling him back for a kiss.

In every relationship, there are bound to be challenges. Sometimes, people may choose to part ways for the sake of their own happiness. However, those who stay through thick and thin are the ones who have found true love.

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic x you #enzo vogrincic blurb

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biibini · 8 months

Note

Could you possibly write hcs for Mizu properly introducing reader to her adoptive father for the first time??? I'm curious as to how that would play out :3

modern!mizu x reader meets eiji for the first time

tags: modern mizu, mizu & reader in relationship, meeting the parents trope, meeting the parent?, eiji is mizu’s adopted father, kohama is staged around the pacific northwest, heidi shindo &blood-soaked chiaki mentioned, TW: m*k*o, author needs to eat before she writes

a/n: ok for some reason i cant edit my drafts on my phone bc of gifs :( ima get thru these asks fr,, hope yall like the show references teehee

when u and modern!mizu first got together, u guys figured u would take it slow

it was mizu’s first relationship out of a toxic one

and u didn’t mind the slow pace

going on dates, hanging out, relaxing together

it was a blast

until one day u guys were out downtown, having a lil cafe date

and one of eiji’s clients recognized mizu as u hopped on the back of her motorcycle, zooming off to get lunch

modern!mizu ends up getting an unexpected phone call from her adopted dad

they keep in touch every few days

but she had just called him yesterday

Mizu was lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Her homework lies on her desk, ready to be done.

She groans in frustration and gently throws the phone down.

Ok, enough scrolling. Let’s get shit done-

Her phone starts to vibrate. Mizu flips the phone to spot the contact name “Swordfather”. The contact name is paired with a 0.5 selfie of him winning against Mizu. It continued to vibrate on Mizu's bed.

That’s odd. I just called him yesterday.

“Hey dad, whats up?”, Mizu answer.

“Who’s in the back of your bike?”, he yells into the phone.

“How- who- what are you talking-“

“Mr. Shindo come to me earlier today.” He starts, stern and loud, “He say he saw you with girl behind you on bike.”

Mr. Shindo was a regular at Eiji’s Repair Shop ever since Mizu was young. A man with temper and sass, he only trusted Eiji with his services. But with sass came a lot of gossip. Mizu wouldn’t believe the amount of drama happening the neighborhood if it wasn’t for Mr.Shindo’s loud mouth.

“Ok dad, I know it’s a girl but-“

“And he say he saw you hold hands! And drive off?!”, Eiji yelled with concern.

Mizu never really heard him this loud. There was the occasional disagreement and arguments about the Sunday game or who’s cooking for dinner. It was just banter at the most.

When Mizu told him about Mikio and why she left him & all his problems, he stayed calm and silent. Not many words were said when she admitted everything he did during the relationship. But it was comforting to know that her adopted dad was there, quietly listening to her sobs at the dining table.

“I know it’s not a guy but-“

“Guy, girl I do no care. Who is she?”

Mizu was stunned. Yeah, her dad’s English wasn’t the best but his words hit deep. The only time he pulled out the “I don’t care” in her lifetime was a foul customer.

A man by the name of Chiaki was on his knees close to closing hours, begging on his knees for Eiji to fix his motorcycle in hopes to make it faster. After constant days of his begging and pleading during open & closing, Eiji took it into his shop. After countless days of watching her dad attempt to fix the customer’s bike, Chiaki started criticizing and called him an “decrepit old man unable to fix shit”. Mizu wanted to rock his shit but her dad stopped her before she could.

“I may be old, but I do no care. Leave with your piece of shit you call a bike.”, Eiji said as Chiaki sped off, flipping the bird as he sent off.

"Mizu? You there?, Eiji asks. Mizu snaps back to reality.

"Yeah?"

"You tired of guys now, ha?"

Mizu scoffed, laughing at the unexpected response. She hears a hearty chuckle through the phone.

"Yeah yeah.", Mizu sighs in relief, "She's my girlfriend. Her name is Y/N.", Mizu answered, a blush blooming on her face.

"Ah good. Next time you come home, bring her. I'll make my barbeque special.", Eiji says lightheartedly.

Mizu's eyes lit up. It had been a while since she visited home. And to be greeted with the smell of her dad's honey BBQ baby back ribs and juicy prime rib? Yeah, she was sold.

"I will. I'll let you know when I'll visit."

"And Mizu?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"She take good care of you?", he asks in a concerned tone.

MIzu smiles, knowing the slow burn of confusion, hatred, and rage he witnessed over the many years. He was present during her silent middle school self, her angsty & stubborn teenage years, and her confused & rage-filled self during her previous relationship.

She looks at the wall where a photobooth strip of you two hung. It was during one of your exploring the city dates when you two found a vintage photo booth. A little dusty but it did the job of capturing you two together.

"Yes. Yes, she does, dad."

later that week, u get a text msg from mizu asking if u are free for the weekend

thinking it was another weekend date, u clear out ur schedule

and then she texts u its ab coming home w her for the weekend and see her dad

this was kinda out of nowhere

it rlly threw u off

it has been a few months now...

so yk what

maybe it is time u say hi

that friday u get on her motorcycle and ride to her hometown

its only an hr out but seeing the change from a college town to a smaller town felt like another world

You feel the motorcycle slow down as you head towards the exit. The wind calms down as you pass by the welcome sign to Kohama. As you go down the exit, you look out. Down below is a winding path to the seaside town. The town hangs next to a cliff. From your point of view, you could spot the deep blue ocean shimmers as Mizu takes you down the road.

She goes at a slower pace, taking in the familiar sights she left behind: the tall pine trees, a long coastline as far as the eye can see, and boulders scattering the beaches every once in a while. She rolls up to a stop sign and lifts her visor up.

"Smells like home."

You mimic her motions, lifting yours as well. The faint scent of sea salt mixed with the cool breeze from the ocean.

With both of you refreshed, Mizu continued along the path towards the middle of town.

u guys roll into her neighborhood

the houses share a similar bungalow-style

only changing in shades of color

however, something caught ur eye

well

more like ur nose

the smell of sweet barbeque caught ur attention

mizu immediately knew it was her dad cooking it up

meeting modern!mizu’s dad aka swordfather was a lil awkward

when u first arrived, he was busy in the back barbecuing and taking care of the dinner tonight

so u didnt meet him until u fully entered the house

hes busy in the back barbequing

and he does see u but the only thing he knows ab u is that ur dating his daughter

“Dad?”, Mizu calls through the house. You follow her footsteps down the hallway. She then opens the backdoor at the end, the midday shining into the hallway.

The sun blinds you for a second. You see a growing backyard with bushes aligning the fence. Tucked in the corner lied a storage shed surrounded by bikes and a few spare tires. Next to the shed is a grill in use, smoke coming out of the vent.

“I’m here Mizu.” An elderly voice called, his back facing you.

He turns around, a faint pout on his face. His eyes squinting from the harsh midday sun.

“You bring girlfriend?”

Mizu grins at her dad’s comment. She looks back at you and softly grabs your hand, pulling you next to her.

“This is Y/N.”

You smiled, waving at Mizu’s father. You know he’s not a bad guy, just a badass through Mizu’s stories of back home. However, you’re still anxious underneath your pleasing demeanor.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

You look up to meet his gaze. Old, tired eyes stare back. Stern but not mean or cruel. Amiable. You could only wonder how much wisdom he has behind those eyes.

“Nice to meet you. I am Eiji.”

He waves back, awkwardly smiling as he tends to the grill. The interaction had a striking similarity to when you first met Mizu: cordial, dry, and a little awkward.

Like father, like daughter, you suppose.

after introducing urself, mizu lets eiji cook

(LET HIM COOK ‼️‼️)

when ur making sides together in the kitchen, he gets a glimpse of how u guys act together

and he watches u help mizu make the sides like mac & cheese, baked potatoes, biscuits, and stir fried green beans

typically, he would be helping her cook

but seeing u help her mix the macaroni

and mizu helping u cut the green beans

hes a proud man and feels safe knowing mizu is ok

when mizu pops into the bathroom, he checks in on the cooking

You put on the red and blue mitts and carefully place the mac and cheese into the oven. You feel the fiery heat of the oven against your forearms.

“How is cooking going?”

You close the oven and look behind to find Eiji. You nod in response.

“It’s going good! We’re almost done.”, you say as you move to the side. He gets a view of your work with Mizu: a plate of stir fried garlic string beans with crispy fried onions, a stack of baked potatoes along with bowls of toppings portioned by Mizu, Red Lobster cheddar bay biscuits, and the max and cheese that’s currently baking.

“Thank you for inviting me over and letting me stay.”, you say politely as you put the mittens away.

He nods back, a small smile forming around his lips.

The conversation falls short. A silence fills the air.

For a little too long.

It’s almost uncomfortable to breath, let alone talk, in the kitchen.

“Ribs are almost done. Please help set tables with me.”

You follow his request and help him with the plates and utensils.

“You know,”, You look up from the dinner table, giving Eiji your attention. “I did not know Mizu would bring girlfriend back.”

He chuckled as he looked back at you. You hear the emphasis on “girl” and laughed along. After hearing about Mizu’s previous relationship during the beginning of your relationship, you started to understand her ways.

And now, you understood why Eiji was awkward earlier in the day. When Mizu first met you, it was anxiousness meeting you. For Eiji, it was out of concern from Mizu’s past.

“Yeah, I’m probably not what you expected.”, you tease.

A hearty laugh comes out of Eiji. You feel the heaviness in the room lifts.

“But I’ll be here for her. I plan to, don’t worry.”, you reassure him. As serious as you sound, it was all true.

He hums in agreement. He puts down the final fork and walks over to the stir-fried green beans. His fingers reach for a string bean and tastes your cooking.

“Mm. You are honest.”, he pauses as he takes another bite. “You also make mean green beans.”

You snort, the compliment catching you off guard.

“Mean green beans?”, you question. You take a bean from the plate.

He nods.

Mean green beans…

while u and eiji are having a moment,

modern!mizu is listening to all of this go down

she tries not to smile when she comes back into the kitchen

but on the inside, she’s relieving hes getting along with u

once u and mizu help set the food on the table, its feasting time

ik for a fact that those baby back ribs are dangerously juicy

practically ripping off the bone

and with that honey bbq sauce???

and not to mention the prime rib??????

perfectly cooked

super tender

u can literally taste thyme, rosemary, and garlic with every juicy bite

(i shouldnt be writing this while im hungry)

u all enjoy a delicious dinner

afterwards, modern!mizu would give u a detailed tour of her childhood home

her fencing trophies lined up in the living room

and hallway

and bedroom

eiji didnt always say it but he was proud

if u couldnt tell already

when u guys went out to the backyard, u spot eiji working on a motorcycle in the shed

its not the biggest shed

but a closer look inside painted a pic of who he was

him on a motorcycle w his friends when he was much younger

a framed pic of a lil mizu on her scooter with him on a motorcycle, both vehicles with matching colors

the grand opening of eiji’s car shop

young mizu at the beach nearby

another of teenage mizu holding her keys and next to a blue 2004 toyota camry

u laughed and pointed it out

eiji chuckling along w u and describing the picture as mizu’s first drive after getting her license at age 16

she looks so much younger but u giggle at the scowl

on the other hand, modern!mizu is kinda embarrassed from her high school self

as crazy and insane and stubborn as she was, it was a big moment for her and for eiji

her girl could finally drive

and she got her first taste of freedom

did she cringe as u stared and laughed at how different she looked? yeah

but at least eiji isnt reminicising alone

#modern au #mizu bes #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu x y/n #mizu headcanons #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x you #blue eye samurai x reader #modern mizu #modern mizu x reader #blue eye samurai modern #master eiji #heidi shindo #mikio blue eye samurai

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lampochkaart · 3 months

Note

what do u think about people saying kaito "ruined kokichi's plan"? it doesn't really make sense to me because him coming out of the exisal was very necessary, as monokuma already knew the truth by that point and shuichi was purposefully trying to get everyone to choose the wrong answer to save kaito. I've also seen people say he didn't act like kokichi correctly, but no one in the trial was suspicious because he didn't act enough like kokichi? no matter how good his acting was the fact that he wasn't coming out of the exisal was what made them question it.

Hi, anon!!

Yeah, I also don't get why so many people say that Kaito "ruined Kokichi's plan" or " betrayed him", because he gave it his all until the point when the plan was unsalvageable.

Kaito confessed and left Exisal only when Shuichi had already revealed the whole plan. He realized too late that he should not have revealed the truth but played along instead. Monokuma wouldn't have believed how he suddenly began to convince everyone of the exact opposite of what he had just logically figured out. Plus, Monokuma would definetly know that Shuichi never met with anyone or suddenly dissapeared from cameras. I'm sure he was watching Shuichi like a hawk because he was relying on him so much to uncover the truth. So the lie Shuichi told was absolutely meaningless. And, although I don't think it's likely that Monokuma would allow the death of all participants due to the wrong choice, it was still too dangerous to take such a risk.

Kokichi understood this too and would probably approve of Kaito's decision. In fact, I kinda always thought that he may have been the one who insisted that Kaito would heroically come forward and tell the truth if things really went downhill. He understood perfectly well that everyone would need someone to raise their morale. And Kaito would be perfect for this.

That's why I really don't get when people joke about Kokichi being angry at Kaito for throwing plan out of the window at the last minute. The battle was already lost. There was no point in clinging to lies. And they both know that when you lose, you must lose with dignity.

As for Kaito's acting... I think he did a great job. Sure, at times he messed up a bit, but still. He sounded off when he was acting as Kokichi and he sounded off when he was acting as Kaito. They both at times sonded like they're caricatures of themselves. And that was the point. It was purposefully made like that so it would be impossible to tell who's inside. And Kaito actually did a very impressive job at acting as Kokichi, especially considering how little time he had to prepare (and only one try to do this)! And he really did fool his classmates (and many players). Others in the trial didn't think his acting was bad, the reason Shuichi was pushing that Kaito was still alive is because he *wanted* to believe that Kaito is alive, so he clung to everything that could prove it.

So, overall, Kaito did his damned best to try to make this plan work. And he only gave up when there was no chance of saving it.

#not art #ask #analysis by lampochka #kaito momota #drv3 kaito #drv3 #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 spoilers #thank you so much for the ask #and for the opportunity to ramble about someting i've been thinking for a very long time now

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kiss-me-muchoo · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: hurt me, it's okay || part two

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_Turns out that you were originally from the earth Miguel collapsed, you just replaced your body, because you were the spider woman from there. Now you have to deal with the revelation, seeing Miguel with another woman and discovering more lies from the Spider Society. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_MEGA canon divergence, plot twist, asshole!Miguel, angst to the max, miscommunication, happy ending. 𝐀/𝐍_do u see the reference? "So many signs?"... It's exile. Recommendations in order: Where do we go now?, Look what you made me do and exile (all in my playlist).

♪ ♫ My Miguel O'Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

….

One morning, you questioned everything.

Why did you become a spider without the same characteristics as others?

Why did you have to be a danger to everyone?

Why couldn't Miguel trust you enough to stay?

And of course... Why did you have to fall in love with him?

You could be in any dimension, with no glitches.

You could learn to control the cosmic abilities you were developing.

But in the end, nobody had trusted you. Not even a warning sign.

Out of them all. Miguel never said anything, he always made you believe you were special. And kick you out at the last instance.

That's why it hurt so much. That's why every morning you questioned everything. That's why you had the impulse to be something.

To soothe the resentment, the sting in the heart, and the enormous amount of stubbornness you had been carrying for months.

The temporary block you made to your earth would end sooner or later, and although there was no reason for any of the spider society members to come, you weren't ready to be found vulnerable.

"Hija. I'm going to the market. Do you want something?" Your mom asked through the door.

"What do you want me to cook today?" You ask, smiling. Already changed and am ready to take the trolley to go to classes.

"You don't have to cook, mi niña" again, you smile. Grabbing your bag and shoes in your hands.

"I always cook. Grab whatever you want and I'll come up with something" She nodded, kissing your head and letting you walk away.

On the way, with a single move from your hand, you lifted your books and finally, you left home.

Every day, you felt less like a spider and more like a witch. ...

It was confusing and annoying how at the end of the summer you lounged for autumn and winter, and then in late spring you were eager to savour summer again.

Your skirt is a grey, black top with mid-length sleeves, long black boots, and a vintage bag.

The trip on the trolley was always pleasant. The line was full of students, unlike other lines that were full of violent homelessness.

Looking out the window, you see the tall palms, and freeways that cross with others, and when your phone buzzes, you turn your head only to scream.

You apologize to the other passengers with a shy smile and then turn again to the seat in front of you.

The small figure of Lyla is there. The annoying yet friendly AI.

"Hi!" She greets happily. Her silly heart-shaped glasses are pink now. Her coat is cream-coloured now, and her hair looks slightly caramelish.

You stood quiet, unable to reply to anything. Anything, it just doesn't come out. Unlike your little head, it's already burning.

Why is she here?

Did Miguel send her?

"I told you to wait till the wagon was empty" Peter came out of a portal. When you looked around, the wagon was empty.

What actually impressed you, was the baby attached to his chest.

She was the cutest baby you had ever seen.

However, beside your face showing confusion and irritation, you stood quiet again. "Hello y/n," Peter said, offering you an awkward smile as the baby cooed.

He took a seat in front of you. And Lyla floated around the baby.

"We counted the days till we could come to your earth again" Lyla noticed the shade of your eyes darker, and immediately she worried. The necessity to drag you back to the HQ to make up with Miguel growing immeasurably.

"Please say something..." Peter urged.

"You had a baby?" Was the first thing that popped into your head?

"Yes. She's Mayday Parker" You smile at the baby.

"So you fixed things with MJ..." he nods. But you think about another lie. Or maybe not a lie. But now you realize Peter hid his upcoming parenthood from you.

"And you hide that from me too" Peter sighs, holding his kid's tiny hand. "Only Miguel knew at the time..."

His name was enough to make you feel like your heart was sunk into gasoline and then thrown on fire.

"Miguel... of course" you whisper with anger. The venom is evident to everyone.

"You need to talk to him. It's important..." the AI reveals.

"I KNEW IT!" You yell, exasperated.

"You just ran without hearing what happened. It's all a misunderstanding. We are uneasy about this, we need you, and what you did just created more chaos than-"

"Am I the villain know?" You ask interrupting the man. He stands quiet. Lyla pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Tell me, Peter... Or you Lyla. Does the rest of the Spider Society know what happened?" It was causing you more anger than sadness to you. The more you caught on them, the more you discovered painful stuff.

Silence.

The gizmo of Peter beeped. He placed his wrist in front of him, the image of Miguel appearing. At the moment, you felt emotionally constipated.

He looked great. Unlike you...

"Peter, Can you hear me?" He asked. You noticed he wasn't wearing his suit. "Yeah..." your ex-friend replies.

"I don't know where you took Lyla, but I need her in my office in an hour. I'm going out with Dana..."

Dana?

While Miguel could not see you or anyone. You could see him and a little of his surroundings.

A woman with beautiful caramel hair and bright eyes called him. She seemed adorable, with a gorgeous skinny body and a lab coat covering her yellow dress.

Peter's eyes went wide. He cut the connection immediately and looked worriedly at you. "It's not what you think. She's just a lab partner in Alchemax..." Lyla started for him. "You need to talk to him. It's very important and-"

"No." You answer with a voice and face full of pride.

"No?" Peter asks goofily.

"I'm not doing this now, nor today, nor tomorrow... maybe never" Hurrying to leave, you waited for the train to stop at the doors.

"Take care, Peter. That baby suits you well..." you explain emotionally before waiting for the doors of the wagon to open.

Lyla turned to look at the man.

"Should we go and make it like Hobie said?" Mayday giggled.

"Yeah. Hobie's way will work"

As soon as the doors opened and you made your first move, you fell into a portal.

Well, you were about to fall into a portal...

Because you closed it skillfully with your hands, innocently stepping over it. You turn to look at Peter and Lyla, dead serious face.

"Slowly, I could become the villain" you simply say, and Lyla finally panicked when she saw your eyes glowing iridescent with green, blue, and silver sparkles.

Without another glance, you kept walking through the station, soon disappearing, mixing with the crowd.

"This is bad. We need to go back with Miguel" the AI said. Peter sighed, rubbing the tiny little hands of his daughter.

"Not everything is lost, Lyla..." Peter liked to believe you would agree to meet Miguel again, that he would explain everything and life would secure you two together.

"There's some new things I have to tell you," she said. Knowing it would hurt Miguel. But probably it would make him go to you.

The waters were literally changing. Unfortunately, not for the best. ...

That night, you stepped out of the shower blindly. Because of the river of tears you had made over the afternoon.

They didn't explain the situation, they let the whole HQ believe you just caused a drama. Peter hid his baby from you. And Miguel had a new lover. He seemed great, he moved on. Maybe he only wanted to talk to you because of the potent danger you were. And at least he was decent enough to send his employees and not disappoint you in person.

Nah... Why disappoint you? While a part of you wanted him to beg you on his knees. The other was full of rage and proud to make everyone believe you were fine and you didn't care.

But you did care. No wonder your chest hurt and your eyes were swollen. Your wet hair dampens the pillow along with your tears. Your body curls into a little ball that it would feel as nice as comfort.

Because for some reason, you couldn't tell your family.

You scream and weep against the wet pillow. Letting all the anger and sadness consume you.

And through the pain, you realize maybe you weren't meant to do anything. You're an accident. And there's no point in being a hero. Nor a villain.

Just the comfort to save your broken heart and shattered soul. And whatever you had to do to protect it, would be fine.

...

A figure that was once a man moved across in your closed eyes. The black void everyone sees is now invaded by a man. Every inch of his deformed figure was white as the snow, but it was disturbingly covered in black holes. The biggest and roundest black spot was what was once his face. He seemed to be elevating the spots emanating dark auras.

Suddenly the dark void behind the figure changed. Your unconscious state creates a disastrous scenario. New York. With piles of dead spider people at the feet of the deformed man. Your heart started beating faster. Finally, realize you were scared.

It was a dream. You're in your bed.

It had been four weeks since your encounter with Peter and Lyla. And his baby... The panic slowly melted. Making you overthink it all over.

The figure scared you in your sleep. You woke up gasping for air.

Your room is dark, it's a little past 3:00 a.m.

It wasn't a dream. It was a premonition. ...

You barely used your suit. You barely balanced through the city with your webs. You stopped being a hero for Los Angeles. Slowly becoming a vigilante. You cried a lot, avoided your family, and took at least an hour every night to practice your new abilities.

Miguel knew that. Miguel knew everything.

He knew he shouldn't be spying on you. He should collect the guts to open your window and explain everything to you. He should reveal once and for all that he was your canon event, that he loved you and missed you. That the only reason he thought about sending you home was because he didn't know yet. That he hated seeing you cry every day and that he never felt so attached to any woman.

But most days he followed like a ghost, far from your smart eye. He paid a visit to you on campus, at the mall, library, and at home.

When your family was present, he remembered the night you invited him to dinner. Your mother is so sweet, your father eyeing him but finally relaxing. And your grandmother, it reminded him of his family.

So he ached to have you even more.

It's not what you think. She's just a lab partner in Alchemax...Peter had said.

But Miguel looked over and over to replay how your face changed as soon as you saw him in Peter's gizmo.

Soon Miguel theorised you thought the worst. That he was dating another woman.

While Dana could have been a potential interest asset for him, the truth is that Miguel never matched her toxic traits. This is why he preferred her friendship, and now that she was moved from the station again, he re-affirmed it.

But it wasn't enough. Not when he hadn't seen you in person in months. Not when the last time you exchanged words with him didn't end well. Not when he had to tell you he was your destiny and that he genuinely loved you.

And to add to his frustration, Spider-lego had alerted him of a new anomaly. Looking at Gwen and Jess in front of him, he sighed.

"Please. I'll be quick and quiet. I just want to see him, I don't even have to say hi to him" Miguel wanted to yell at the blonde girl. But soon he remembered that she had suffered not long ago, and only thanks to Jess, she was stable.

"Miles is THE original anomaly. You had contact with him in the past. It's already dangerous enough-" he started lecturing.

"If y/n was here, she would have backed me up" Jess whistled quietly. The pregnant woman knew you were a delicate subject. She also knew you had limited time to get back with Miguel. Or else, the canon would be disturbed.

Even worse with the information only Lyla knew.

"But she's not here," Miguel concluded, making it visible how delicate you were to him.

"I propose, you can go, see your friend FAR from him, and come back with the anomaly" Jess decided to suggest something. Miguel huffed annoyed.

"Thanks, thanks, thanks, Jess!" The blonde spider was so happy and not even Miguel decided to interfere with her happiness.

"I'll be fast, I promise" With that, she left to earth 1610. Also your home... "You let her go, you keep an eye on her" Jess nodded.

Both turned around to go to the briefing room and start new missions, but like an ice bucket, surprise and shock assaulted them.

You were walking across the long hallway.

You were literally there. Wearing a black dress with red tights and heel boots. Dark purple decorated your lips and your hair was on your usual ponytail back when Miguel met you.

You looked gorgeous. Better than all the times Miguel looked at you before. "I-, y/n? What are you doing here?" Jess asked in shock.

You kept walking. Every spider you passed by, looked with shock and curiosity. But the aura you charged felt heavy.

Miguel couldn't help but blush. You were feet away from him, looking strong and certainly indifferent about him. Just by looking at your new image, the eagerness to have you back on his side grew bigger.

"The Spot is a big danger. That's why I came" you announce when you're finally in front of the pregnant woman and Miguel.

You tried avoiding looking at Jess and her round belly. Another sting pulsated when you realized how much you had missed.

And again, facing that mask again. Miguel's full suit was something that would always intimidate you. Since the first moment Gwen, Hobie, and Peter introduced you two, it had been the same.

"The Spot? How do you know him?" You huffed at the woman's question.

"I've been doing irregular stuff..." Miguel knew what you meant. Even when he was getting lost in your small height and gorgeous eyes, Miguel remembered what you'd been doing. Witchcraft...

"It's been some time since... the last time"

"I'm not here to talk about the past, Jessica." Your answer surprised her. For Miguel, he was expecting the worst to be honest. He couldn't describe what you were feeling. And it was making him anxious.

"I saw him while I was sleeping. It wasn't a regular dream. Lascarred, I've been scar- surprised by weird visions and more" Miguel worried. He supposed you were about to say scared. And he hated not being able to be there for you. It was a lot, in a short time.

"The Spot is more than a regular anomaly. He's going to make a disaster. I saw... piles of spider people dead in New York" The pair of adults exchanged looks. They believed you. But they were unsure about what to do.

"It's gonna get out of hand. And even after all... I thought both of you needed to know" Jessica blushed after remembering the embarrassment she felt when you called her and everyone else a bunch of liars. The venom in your eyes and voice was evident, making everything heavier.

"I can sense he was a normal civilian before. He has a lot of rage, regret, and hate inside. Be careful, and think twice before acting" It was a double entendre, where you wanted to give them an indirect hint about what they did to you before.

They stand quiet. The background noise never stopped, a lot of spiders talked on their way to the cafeteria. The sound of doors opening and closing as well as portals. The world keeps spinning on Earth 928, but to Miguel, time is frozen.

Until you turned around and just how you came in, you were leaving.

Miguel felt Jess nudging him. So he went straight to you. Hoping to stop you. This was his chance...

"Wait..." he called. You didn't face him, but you stopped walking.

"I'm begging you, y/n. Please let me explain everything" It caught you off guard. But you really wanted to listen to him. However, at that precise moment, more than feeling angry, you felt scared.

Probably it would be better to open up a little. For the last time.

"My feelings are changing, Miguel. I don't even know what I want or how I feel anymore..." you said over your shoulder.

And again, you're leaving.

But you won't go this time. He's making sure you listen.

"I'm sorry, y/n. But you'll listen this time..." his hands suddenly grab you by the hips. And in a second, you're thrown into his shoulder.

"Miguel. Put me down!" Jess can't help but chuckle. She highly hopes you listen.

For everyone, more than keeping canon intact, they wanted to see Miguel happy, and have you back.

"This is such a caveman act. I'm gonna harm you" he knew you wouldn't.

More looks are drawn to you and the man. You only see the floor of the HQ. And the more he walks with you on his shoulder, the more you try to ignore his grip on you.

His right hand still holds your hips, and his wide arm secures your dress to avoid being hiked and leaving you exposed. He cared, even with tiny details, he cared.

Finally, he enters his office. And closes the door.

He doesn't put you down though. Until he gently placed you on his chair.

His wide back facing you, and you crossed your arms annoyed.

"Can you start talking?" Your nervousness was so evident and it made Miguel feel more relaxed. Because that meant he wasn't the only one panicking.

"I'm in your canon events. And you're in mine..." your eyes are wide open. He finally turns around to look at you. Your silence is enough to let him know you're shocked.

"The only reason why I wanted to send you home, is because I believed that would be better for us. I thought my...I thought my love for you was dangerous" he always expects eye contact when talking. He's meticulous enough to know when he imposes respect. But for you, he pleads for you to look him in the eyes. He needs to hear you might forgive him.

"I learned about us and canon right when you left the HQ. If you had just waited a minute to leave. If I had waited to tell you. Everything... might have turned differently"

Like peace invading your body, you want to jump straight into his arms and smooch him. He wasn't lying, he was a man of word. But you also weren't ready to forgive him at all.

"You still lied to me. You and everyone I considered my friends. Everyone considered me a danger. And... You said I was special, you made me feel like..."

"I'm in love with you. Since the day you invited me to dinner with your family. That day I fell in love with you" tears form in your eyes, remembering the day you two connected like never. That night you went to bed with giant butterflies in your stomach. And knowing that day he felt that way too...

"That's the truth. And the only lie I ever said to you, is that I didn't love you, that everything was a lie" There's a pout on your face, and you don't know what to do.

“What about the woman?” Miguel frowned confused.

“The woman Peter told me about not to worry” you explain embarrassed.

“Dana. As a young adult, I saw her as a potential partner. But… it never became anything. Now… she’s not even an option. I have no other options… Just you”

"I-..." a beep. You can't say anything else. You only open your mouth to say nothing. You were about to say that you forgive him.

"Miguel. Gwen let The Spot away. Pavitr earth is colliding because of Miles, I'm already here..." Jess spoke.

Miguel sighed heavily. Pushing his hair back in place. He reaches for his gizmo to answer her.

"Bring everyone here. Now..." he remarked to everyone louder, you also sighed.

The stress, panic, anxiety, anger, and sadness were edging him.

"Miguel..." you called, barely reaching his shoulder due to the height difference. His shoulders relaxed, and he enjoyed the touch.

"Please. Tell me you won't leave this time. Tell me you'll give me a second chance" he sounded so tired. And you decided to try. You could try to forget everything and begin a new chapter with him.

"I promise you I'll try, Miguel. This time I'll try to understand" he nods, and he hopes you take the hand he's offering.

You do, you intertwine your fingers with him.

"I need you..." he says, again sounding stressed.

With his dark past and the circumstances he was in when you met him, seeing Miguel in a vulnerable state of honesty was a lot to process.

"We still need to talk about a lot of things. But I'm here, Miguel" Maybe it was your prescience that calmed him enough to not yell and lose his mind at first sight.

Something in the back of your head was whispering to you that it wasn't over. That there was more to unveil. But you believed Miguel. The fact that he was honest and open to talk about his feelings was enough to make you see how real he was at that moment.

It was the peace before the storm. ...

The eyes of Gwen, Peter, Noir, and more spiders on you were unsettling you. But you were feeling terribly bad about Miles Morales and the issue with his dad. Miguel was trying to calm him. But slowly, you could feel he was losing his temper once again.

"You've been quite a mystery to everyone here" Hobie whispered. You glanced at him. "I'm pretty sure you're the only one I've missed," he smiles briefly.

"You may still want to leave. But even destiny wants you with that beastly man"

He sure looks beastly. But he had made you feel special, he tried to push you away for your security. And now he has begged you to stay with him.

You follow Lyla when he opens the millions of webs from the Arachno-Poly-Humanoid. Miguel explains to Miles, but you start searching for your own web.

Like the red string many believed in. The red string attached two persons together. You found your web.

And it was true, your web was attached to Miguel's. The last canon event showed you and Miguel together. But as you watched closer, you started seeing your past.

You were a spider woman, but it wasn't true. You became a spider woman at a much older age. You were a scientist working on Alchemax and surprisingly, you were dating Miguel. You then found he died, and you wanted to bring him back to life. You contacted Doctor Strange from that earth, and he warned you about a collapse coming. So he made a ritual to save you. He made you take a variant of yourself. The y/n of Earth 1610 who was a witch.

"Lyla. What's this?" You ask her highly confused. Miguel stopped talking to Miles and turned to see you.

When he walked closer, he saw it. Looking as much as confused as you were. "Oh!-, uh-..."

"Lyla. What's his?" Miguel pushed further.

The AI sighed.

"Miguel...In reality, y/n was a citizen from the earth you collapsed. She was the spider woman from that earth, and she was the couple of your variant that died" The man felt like he couldn't breathe.

"She made a deal with Strange to get your variant back. But the wizard knew it was impossible due to the collapse happening. So he sent y/n to take her variant's body on Earth 1610. The real y/n from Earth 1610 died on the collapse. During the process, you must've forgotten a lot of things. The body you took, was the body of a witch. That's why you started developing some weird activities for a spider. You were not bitten between portals"

It was too much. You don't know how to feel.

"See. She's proof that canon isn't accurate. Send me home!" Miles argued.

"Kid..." Peter tried to calm him. But you weren't listening, you just started panicking more than ever.

Miguel saw you and reached you.

"I'm sorry. It's too much" you barely say to him, feeling your eyes water once again. "Calm down. It's okay, y/n"

"I can't do this. And that kid can't suffer, Miguel" you say, catching everyone's attention.

"You know I can't let him go" Without a warning, he traps Miles. And another wave of arguments explodes between your ex-friends.

"Maybe y/n is right" Gwen admits, but soon is ignored.

At the same time, you looked at Hobie telling Miles to break out. So you know what's about to happen; Miles would break the barrier.

You run behind him before anyone can notice and Jess is able to hold your forearm for some seconds. But it's not enough.

"Don't do this, y/n" Gwen yells. And it angers you.

"You know this isn't right. Don't make the kid go through what I did" Like a parallelism, Miles was told lies, and he felt betrayed like you once did.

Everyone is talking. Peter tries to calm Miles, Hobie, and Jess making comments. Miles looks scared at you and Hobie. So you point at him.

Hobie reminds the kid to use his palms. And then he smiles at you.

"Whatever happens. Do what you believe is right." Hobie changed his mind. Even if canon was supposed to want you with Miguel, you would not make anyone else suffer.

"You'll visit me?" Hobie nodded, making you smile.

But then a bright flash blinded everyone, and then the silence was killing everyone.

Miguel sees you looking at him. An apologetic and sad look, before you start running after Miles.

Not this time, not again, Miguel thinks.

"MILES!, Y/N!" He shouts, going straight to you and the kid. Because he's aware you'll try to save the kid from every spider. He knows you believe in canon changing instead of being accurate. But he won't risk anything. He won't risk losing you like it happened with his family.

He knows you're fast, but that day you surprised him.

How you easily get rid of the tons of webs shooting at you? All while you apologize because they were your workmates.

Most of the spiders go after Miles, making it easier for you to break a glass and fall to the void of the sky in Earth 928.

And when his bright web caught your waist, you were terrified. Your watered eyes collide with his. Regret invaded him. He had done a lot, but he wanted you to hold tight and listen.

But your face gave him enough to feel sad and angry. He blamed Miles if he hadn't done another canon intervention. You would stay longer to listen to him and officially forgive him.

"I'm sorry, Miguel"

So you made his web disappear with your magic. Making you fall faster, away from him. Breaking his heart.

...

"NO. MOM!. YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE THAT" You rolled your eyes, hugging the girl beside you tighter.

"So dad chased you?"

"Yeah. Have you heard Uncle Peter say someone is going Miguel mode?" Gabi giggles and nods.

"He went crazy?"

"Yes. A lot I would say. I convinced him to help Miles and slowly, we got together again"

"Not so slow, you had me within months of being back together" you blushed.

"What? Who told you that?"

"Dad. He said you loved him so much that you let me grow inside you the day he asked you out" You were gonna kick Miguel.

"Oh, yes... We decided to have you too soon. But it took longer to move in together, get married." You explain to the five-year-old girl"

"And now there's another baby inside you" Gabi points at your round belly.

You sigh, nodding. Of course, Miguel had to get you pregnant right after funding a new base for the Spider Society.

"Yes. Your baby brother will arrive soon"

"What are you talking about?" Miguel appeared in the frame of the living room.

"Mom was telling me how you chased her to tell her that you loved her" Gabi answered happily.

"I still love her, Gabi. Y mucho..." You smile at him.

When Gabriella was born and she started the toddler phase, Miguel and you realized she was the exact same copy of Gabriella he had in the earth that collapsed. Still shocked you, but she was your baby girl. Obviously a daddy's girl.

"That was a dark day, though," you added. Miguel got closer to help you stand up. Your belly poking his tight chest.

"Can we focus on the present? We got over that." He was right. "Okay. Can I have a kiss?' You ask innocently.

"Just because you're pregnant" Gabi pretended to be puking and left the living room making you laugh.

"And it's your fault!" After years of being together, you got used to Miguel and his cheeky side.

"No. It's your fault and that stupid new suit you wore at the inauguration" You smirked. Your new suit always delayed missions and patrols. Because your silly husband couldn't resist the temptation.

"I take the guilt. Now... Are you ready?" The plan was to go eating and have a little walk on the beach.

"I'm still waiting for my kiss" he rolled his eyes and grabbed you by your hips, making you giggle as he passionately kissed you.

"Te amo un montón, muñeca" you smile, kissing his nose as he chuckles.

"Yo también, corazón" In the middle of a new round of kisses, Gabi came back.

"Ugh, enserio?. You're still kissing?" Both you and your husband laughed before leaving with Gabi.

__________________________________________ Taglist: @justleavemealoneyeah @nishinoyahhh @perfectprofessorloverapricot @liz96893 @deputy-videogamer @legbouk @oxrchd @cas-planet @gabbym-dizzy @avxntxrine @karleequinn @sunshinesetsstuff @aurabambi @mymommmy @billaboon @brittney69 @liz96893 @ariparri

I’m so excited to write my Halloween and día de muertos fics 4 Miguel (u Can notice it by the way I inconsistently wrote this) so tell me if you want to be tagged🩷

#miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x y/n

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