natusferox-blog

[jensthwa]

we can't be friends (CS x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

San is your first love. He broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. Now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. But his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid San when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.

PAIRING: first love!choi san x afab reader.

GENRE: one shot (fluff, angst, smut)

WORD COUNT: 20k (yikes).

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, unnecesary pinning, a looot of context, bad friends :(, some arguing, tension, drinking and drunk behavior, tears, making out, description of female anatomy, oral (f reciving), fingering, love making, pet names (babe, baby), flirty seonghwa, wooyoung being a little shit again but also a genius, gyuri almost commiting a crime.

NOTES: hi everyone! this is a lenghty one, i know, but trust me when I say the context is necessary to understand what reader goes through with san. also, some of this may or may not have happened to me (have fun figuring out which part) (it's quite obvious tbh). THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE, even though there's some references and characters that you can only know if you read s&t lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: august 06 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68

masterlist.

You and Choi San go way back. 

Well, it's nine years way back? You were only fourteen when you first saw him. 

He moved back to your area of the city a year after you moved from an entirely different one. You thought you knew every school secret there ever was, provided by your new best friend, Gyuri, but she didn't tell you about him at all. 

She claimed that it was because he didn't cause any stir the years they studied together before and after spending a whole first period in your eighth grade classroom with him at the back of the class, silently taking notes, you couldn't phantom why.

He was great at every subject, seemed to have a lot of popular friends and was, overall, a pretty nice guy. He was also very cute, skinny but you could tell he was the kind of guy who played a sport outside of school hours and he had a cute pair of dimples that showed everytime you scanned the classroom just to lay eyes on him. 

Choi San was a perfect boy to crush on, even a perfect guy just to have as eye candy during recess. You felt really strongly about him, not really forming a full opinion although your gut told you right away you were right. There was something about him… but you only figured that something until later, next year, starting your ninth grade. 

Gyuri and you were avid readers. Precocious girls, with minds way above your age. All your teachers praised came laced with the same compliment so you both decided that was the truth. You rejoiced in it, thinking you shared things in common with the grown ups and decided that that was the key to feeling a little superior in comparison to the rest of your classmates, who neither of you liked very much. 

Until they all decided to start dating each other and you two realized you were nothing but two kids with great imaginations and a love for school, praise and fictional men that couldn't be translated to the real world without sounding delusional and weird. 

So you decided to do something about it. And so, on a random Tuesday recess, you two scanned the crowd trying to find two boys (or a boy and a girl, because you always knew you liked girls too) worthy of your affections. One for her, one for you. Bonus points if the two of them were also best friends, of course. 

Double dates were all the buzz at the time anyways. 

Besides, only then they could understand the bond you and Gyuri had. Sisterhood like no other, nevermind Gyuri actually had an older sister and a niece at the ripe age of fifteen. 

And so when your index finger scanned the crowd and eliminated at least three potential crushes before landing on Choi San, you felt like it was meant to be. 

You see, his best friend, Jung Wooyoung, was perfect for Gyuri to crush on. He was almost as tall as she was at the time and his easy, outgoing personality was compatible with her book crush at the time as well. 

He also flirted with her on several occasions before that. 

So it was meant to be. 

Choi San, on the other hand, had never even glanced in your direction before. 

Just like your book crush did before he fell in love with the main character. 

See? Meant. To. Be. 

It was decided then that, although Choi San was not going to be your first crush ever, he was going to be the guy that motivated you to be at school for the time being, because math gets really boring after trying and failing at least ten times. 

You thought nothing of it when it felt a little forced, when you couldn't blush at all at the sight of him and you gathered that it didn't need to happen like in the books you read. You simply needed to say his name when someone asked you if you had a crush on anyone and that was enough to be in symphony with the rest of your classmates. 

Your longing glances were caught once or twice by him and you brushed the weird flip your stomach did everytime he looked away, blushing a little. You never really cared when it happened, really, knowing his crowd and your crowd (Gyuri and you) would never even cross paths in the first place. 

You two kept to yourselves and your little book unofficial book club, sitting on the floor at lunch time and cursing everyone who dared to call you weird for it. San and Wooyoung had a crowd of people at the loudest table laughing with them over stupid teen jokes and, uh, sports? You didn't even know. 

And then the unimaginable happened. 

Jung Wooyoung sat down, criss cross applesauce and everything, in front of you on a random Monday afternoon while you and Gyuri discussed the english assignment due next period. 

Gyuri was not too excited about that. 

Turns out, the only one excited to have a crush at school was you. She was very much still in the Lonely Hearts Club phase while you skipped all the way to your The Notebook phase and she was, in her own words, too afraid to admit it when you came up with your crush plan. 

You forgave her, of course, and decided to wait for her as long as needed because you were certainly not about to be an individual and have a crush on your own. 

And by the time Wooyoung smiled at you both and introduced himself to you, like you weren't in the same class for a year already, you thought your pretend crush on his best friend evaporated and joined the void superficial and fleeting interests you had. 

But then Choi San sat beside him, his knee brushing against yours in the process, and you knew you would have to issue a formal apology to your best and only friend for leaving her behind on this little thing. 

Because, oh boy, were you crushing on Choi San. 

You felt the blush rush to your cheeks and then fell silent while your friend and his friend discussed Fifty Shades of Grey for some reason you never cared enough to discover and you knew you were done for.

It was the first time seeing his dimples in full action, so close to you, so you completely stopped functioning all together. Amazing. 

When you decided to have a crush, you never took into account that you were, actually, quite shy. And he really wasn't, but you noticed that he knew when to talk and what to say and with your friend being a lot more outgoing that you were it gave you the comfort that she would speak for the both of you while you admired from the sidelines as your little duo became a group of friends you still miss deeply to this day. 

He was funny and you laughed at your jokes even though you pretended to be tired and completely worn out by the school day, resting your head on Gyuri’s shoulder and stealing glances at the boy while she kept arguing with his best friend. 

Wooyoung was popular and liked enough to have a few people sit with you later that week, people who never even knew you existed before that. They were good friends with San as well, so you tried your best to keep up with everyone until she sat down next to you one day. 

Arin was not really a bad person. She just was a bit conceited, calling herself princess type of conceited and you never really related to her even if she was nice to you to your face. She was absolutely gorgeous and, you found out with Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder and a whisper to your ear, she had been San’s crush since they were both in elementary school. 

That would explain the sudden tension at the table when she sat down next to you, said hello to everyone, offered you a sweet she just bought from the cafeteria, and stared at San for the remainder of lunch time. 

You also noticed Wooyoung glaring at her a little and he later explained to you that he didn't really like her all that much. She loved attention and San gave her attention, so she would intentionally flirt with him to get her ego stroked in return. 

It didn't really matter how he felt about the girl, though, he didn't have to like her just because his best friend did. And when you caught her batting her eyelashes at San, you knew you didn't even stand a chance.

You tried to hide the disappointed look on your face but both Gyuri and Wooyoung looked at you while the two of them flirted endlessly for the remainder of lunch time and you figured you were doing a pretty shitty job at it. He didn't glance at you once either way, so it didn't really matter. 

Arin did but she just complimented your eyes and then started a conversation with someone across the table, her annoying sweet and fake voice making your right ear ring in disapproval. 

Either way, you ended up becoming her friend. Gyuri was not very fond of her and neither were you, but you all went to the bathroom together, did your makeup together, did school projects together and then sat everyday at lunch together with the rest of the guys who were, in one way or another, trying to get her to like them. 

Because, once again, she was a sight for sore eyes. 

It wasn't until later, in the middle of the year, that one of them did. Not Choi San, but Choi Yeonjun. 

You remember the day you found out they were together and the gut wrenching concern you felt when you found out that San was not at school that day. 

It was after summer break, you remember Wooyoung telling you that San and his family took a few more days of vacation and if you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the new couple sharing a sweet kiss at the designated lunch table, you could only imagine how San felt the next day when he saw the same image right in front of him. 

Yeonjun was his friend, right? He knew about his crush and decided to get together with her anyways. Surely, San was devastated. 

But he wasn't. He just cheered them on and then laughed along when Yeonjun shoved his arm playfully after the hollering. 

But you saw through it. 

Your crush on San made you observant. Made you believe you knew him better than everyone else and so, after lunch, you took out your phone and pulled up the notes app. Writing a simple “are you okay?” in it and passing it to him the next second, you were surprised with yourself before you saw him frown a bit. And then he understood what you meant. 

Nodding, he passed you the phone back, before giving you a reassuring smile that you treasured in your heart and saw in your dreams. 

You didn't believe him, though, but stayed close enough to everything related to the situation to hold Arin in your arms when Yeonjun inevitably broke her heart. 

Starting your tenth year, he moved back to his city and decided to play the I thought we weren't even that serious card on her. Which was nasty, considering love it's very, very serious for a sixteen year old girl. 

By this point, you were all a little family and hanging out after school and on the weekends was not unusual, so it didn't surprise you when Arin invited you, and only you, to her house after choir practice on a Thursday. 

She lent you her older sister’s clothes to wear (because her's would never fit you. Her words, not yours) and took you to a walk in the park just to break your heart for the first time ever. 

“You know… I thought love was something I couldn't find in highschool anymore. But San it's really making an effort, you know? He's been there for me ever since Yeonjun left and… Well, I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend tomorrow.” 

Grasping the park bench she forced you to sit at, you only nodded and let out a shuddering breath that gave away what she was trying to figure out since earlier that day. 

“I'll say yes but only if you say it's okay to do so.” 

Arin was not really your friend, the same way Yeonjun was not really San’s friend. 

Because there's no way you would ever be okay with it. 

And yet, you tried your best to give her a smile and pretend the sound of your heart breaking didn't bring tears to your eyes “Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?” 

A week later, they were officially dating. The rumors spread around like a wildfire and it took out of you with everyone calling San a nasty rebound and you doing your best to prioritize the ghost of the friendship you had with him. That whole fiasco lasted a few months. 

Months in which your friendship with everyone just grew stronger. Gyuri was still your best friend, Wooyoung was crushing on her hard and everyone knew, Arin and San were a steady couple, a new girl joined your class that year, named Yeri, and the principal assigned her to you because she thought you two would get along really well. 

“I like girls,” was like, the third thing she ever told you while you were showing her the school “I'm just telling you now because I don't plan on hiding it and you are wearing a pride pin.” 

“Oh, that's cool. I like girls too,” you smiled, looking at your pride pin “I didn't hide it either and no one gave me shit about it, so, don't worry.” 

Yeri also liked the mainstream music that you liked and soon she became a new addition to your group. And with Arin spending all of her free time with San, you, Gyuri and Yeri only grew closer and closer. You didn't have Arin’s voice in your ear telling you the million reasons she found Yeri uncool, but you saw it in her face every time the table laughed at one of Yeri’s jokes. 

And so, it went on for a while: 

Your mom driving all of you around in her car to the beach, to dinner, to the movies and letting you have mixed sleepovers at your house (meaning you, Arin, Gyuri, Wooyoung, Yeri and San) was fun and all, but it was not enough to distract yourself entirely. Everytime you glanced at the couple, that sinking feeling in your chest would appear and sulk your whole mood for, at least, fifteen minutes.  

Fifteen minutes of pretending you were okay with them before forgetting completely for an hour or so and then the cycle would repeat until you were alone staring at the ceiling and doing your best to not cry about it.

All it took was your first kiss being Yeri of all people for you to decide that it was time to retire your crush for Choi San once and for all. 

And for a while, it all went according to plan. You decided to tell Gyuri that it was okay because he was your friend first and the guy that you liked second and that you were not fourteen and desperate for love anymore, that it was time to go on with your life as if nothing really happened in the first place. 

You were hooking up with Yeri anyways, so it seemed like you were doing just fine. 

You grew closer to San as well and even though he mostly talked to you about Arin and whatever tantrum she was throwing at the time, you really started to feel some sense of normalcy within you when it came to just speaking to him. 

You no longer blushed when he made you laugh, you no longer looked at him with the longing of a past life lover and you were really happy for him because, at the end of the day, he was really happy with his relationship. 

Until winter break came around and Arin decided to give San his first heartbreak ever. 

She decided to call for a break in their relationship because she was, in his words, too overwhelmed with the amount of love and attention she was getting from him. 

Which was completely fucking insane considering the fact she forced him to save her contact as Princess Arin and all. 

So naturally, you sided with him. And she didn't take it to heart because everyone knew you liked San anyways. 

She told you the news herself through Facebook after asking you to explain to her the English assignment due next day and then she decided to tell you something you'll never understand because you no longer are on speaking terms with her: 

Princess Arin: u know i broke up with him because of u right? :) 

Princess Arin: one day I'll tell u all abt it. 

She never told you anything about it. And by then, you were starting your last year and San was your best friend who hung out with you everyday after school, calling you late at night and helping you with assignments through Skype. So you didn't really care. 

And as the day passed, you started understanding the connection they talked about in books and movies. You thought you did before, Gyuri being your eternal person in this world, but it felt so different with San. 

Different and good. Different and achy enough for you to want to keep it in your life. 

Your dynamic was friendly, sure, but it was alright. It consisted of banter and daring stares as well as laughter and soft moments you treasured till this day. 

“It's way too early to be this annoying, Choi San.” 

“Oh, you think this is me being annoying?”

You both got an hour of detention for disturbing the class that day. 

You loved it. 

But then, after almost a month of picking up the broken pieces of his heart one by one, and your mother giving him a self-help book to make him regain the confidence he lost during the breakup process, you realized that you were in love with him and there was nothing you could do about that. 

You noticed one friday afternoon, when he offered to pay for your and your mom's ice cream at the drive through, when he scrambled to get all the change he had on him to leave a tip for the person who handed you guys the sweet treat, that there was no way you didn't love him. 

And it was confusing as fuck when everyone else started to tell you he had feelings for you as well. 

“Think about it. You text each other good morning everyday” Yeri listed with her finger and you nodded “Then, you go to school, sit together and spend the rest of the day together” another nod “Then after school you either go get ice cream together or hang out for a bit with your mom while she drives him home. And after that, you get on Skype for the reminder of the afternoon and then he calls you on your house phone and you two spend the rest of the night talking before falling asleep on the line together,” she looked at you like you were insane for even denying the accusations made against San, but she continued anyway “And then it's rinse and repeat and it has been that way since… What? Three months ago?” 

You nodded again, defeated. 

“Girl, he likes you.” she sighed, annoyed and a little tired, before sitting on your lap and kissing your lips affectionately “And you're here making out with me instead of him. You really are a lost cause.”

That didn't stop you from hooking up with her until she found a girl who's heart was not reserved for someone else, though. Said girl went to a different school and was a year younger than all of you, but she looked very happy and stopped secretly kissing you in the school bathroom like a week after they met. 

And when she finally told everyone, you were really happy for her, but San not so much. 

It was the night you thought everything was about to change. The night you thought he was about to kiss you or you were about to kiss him, whatever happened first. 

Laying in your bed, facing each other in the dim light, he thought it was the biggest form of betrayal and pouted the whole time he explained to you why. 

He thought you liked her and you realized he didn't really pay attention to you after all. Not the way you did with him. 

Bless his heart. 

You didn't kiss him that night because he wouldn't shut up about you and Yeri. 

“I mean, why couldn't it be you? She clearly liked you if you two were hooking up for over a year” and when his hand came to rest on your back, under your shirt, you breath hitched enough for him to notice it but not enough for him to just don't do anything about it except trace the curve of your silhouette with the pad of his thumb “I don't understand why anyone would pass the opportunity to be with you.” 

Huh. Maybe he did have feelings for you. 

No. He's just being a great best friend. Don't take that for granted. 

But it was impossible for you not to take Yeri’s words seriously as time went on. 

You didn't want to think he was giving you mixed signals, but yet again there was that one time when you reached behind your passenger seat in your mothers car to pinch his leg playfully after he pulled on your hair a little bit from behind, only to end up holding his hand the rest of the car trip to his house. 

His fingers slowly caressing the back of your hand were just too much for you not to get everything mixed up. 

Or that other time when your school held a Woman's Day event, and your class president decided that all the boys in the class were going to give roses to the girls.

When it was your turn to get a rose, you knew no one would give you one. But Yeri stood in line and collected a rose from the bin before the class president had the opportunity to say anything else. 

“I'll take that, thank you very much.” She turned to you, smiling. San blocked her way to you a second after. 

“And just what do you think you're doing?” 

“Giving my best girl a rose, of course.” She peeked around him, giving you a wink that you could only roll your eyes to. 

San turned to you, the fondness in his eyes making you question the decision of not pretending to be sick that day. It was too much for you to handle. 

“To the back of the line, then. I already called dibs on her,” he turned to your friend, snatching the rose from her hand in one swift move “I'll take that, thank you very much.” 

He had no idea what that meant to you back then. It was true that, at school, he behaved a little differently than when you two were alone. 

He was athletic, so he had some friends that you were sure used to ask him what the fuck was he doing wasting his time with a girl like you instead of getting a new girlfriend. 

He had a family that didn't approve of yours, too. You felt it the first time you met his mom and, even though she was nice to you and your mom, you could feel the judgemental stare she gave both of you when your mom told her she was a single parent. 

San told you that it didn't really matter, that his mom didn't have to like you because you weren't her friend, you were his. 

He played with your feelings a little too well. Wanting him, adoring him and letting yourself be consumed by the thought of him loving you back was enough to keep it going. To ignore the fluttering way your heart kept beating whenever he talked to you which was all the time. 

You assumed the way he behaved with you in private was the real him. The one who didn't care about appearances or his family approval. 

The one who cared about you. 

It was dizzying and fantastic and you thought he just might've been the love of your life. 

But then he would tell you how much it hurted when he saw Arin at school and how much he missed her, the intimacy they shared before, and reality would come crashing down and setting your delusions on fire again. 

He had sex with Arin. You would never stand a chance. 

Or so you thought he did. Except when you overheard Arin speaking to her friends and that was the first time you ever got mad at Choi San.

“And, you know, me and San were never intimate like that so I wouldn't know but I think boys have no idea how to please a woman if they tried to.” 

What? 

Oh. So he lied to you. 

And you were so upset by the thought of him making up stories of their intimate time together that it didn't even cross your mind that Arin might've been lying to save face. 

So when he came back from the bathroom and sat at his usual desk in front of you, you didn't even think about his feelings when you decided to treat him like shit for lying about something so important like sex to your face. 

“Leave me alone, San! I don't want to fucking talk to you right now!” 

The hurt expression he gave you after that is one you would never be able to forget. 

But you grew to be stubborn and a little overprotective of your own feelings, so you thought him playing the part of your best friend all these months and sweet talking to you was just another one of his lies. 

“You guys not being friends right now doesn't make any fucking sense, sweetheart.” Wooyoung's tone is careful and laced with affection, but you knew he was playing the devil's advocate on behalf of San. With his arm around Gyuri’s shoulder (by that point, they were a thing for over two months) you could swear you saw him smirk when the nickname brought a scowl to your face. 

He might've been worried, but he was also a little shit. 

“You really are going to let Arin ruin what you two have?” Your best friend was, of course, on your side. But she was your best friend for a reason and her love included pointing out when you were behaving like an infant at the age of seventeen and a half. 

“You two are practically dating and you're going to let the evil ex-girlfriend get in the way? Over something you weren't even supposed to hear in the first place? Come on.” 

Again, Wooyoung was a little shit. And you were so upset about everything that you shyness couldn't even help the fury behind your reply: 

“Stop saying that! We are not practically dating, he's in love with Arin and I'm not sure I even like him like that anymore!” Getting tired of everyone and their mother (your mother) feeding your delusions, you came to the conclusion that putting a stop to your friendship with Choi San was for the best. 

And, in doing so, you ended up breaking your own heart for the second time in your life. 

But he didn't put up an easy fight at all. You remember the feeling of pure joy when he grabbed your hand on the way to the cafeteria one day, pulling you so hard you almost ended up sitting in his lap, and the way his pleading eyes begged you to listen to him one last time. 

“Us not being friends doesn't feel right, Y/N…” he said and the word he used to categorize what both of you had hurted you, but you pushed the feeling away “Please, let's not fight anymore. I don't even know what happened, but I forgive you for yelling at me and I hope you forgive me for whatever it is you think I did.” 

Of course, you forgave him the next second without thinking too much about it. And for a while, everything went back to normal. You Skyped as usual and occasionally you let your other friends join the call even though it didn't really feel like it used to before. 

The next thing you knew, your feelings were in full bloom again and when you realized it, it was too late. 

Because by then, you had already let your childhood friend, Sunhee, join a few Skype calls and by the fourth one she invited her friend, Minseo, to them as well. 

Terrible, terrible mistake. Because even through the screen, you could see that Minseo looked a lot like Arin with the added bonus that she was down to earth and cool and liked the same things San liked.

You liked the same things San liked as well, but it never seemed to matter. 

Because not even two months after you decided to stop talking to San over a lie you weren't supposed to find out in the first place and then became friends one more time, he gets together with Minseo and you're sick to your stomach all over again. 

You hated her. Not because she was, suddenly, his girlfriend (not girlfriend girlfriend, but in a friends with benefits arrangement you never even knew why he agreed on in the first place) but because suddlenly she was so fucking obnoxious and didn't seem to like you either. 

Was it not painfully obvious San didn't have feelings for you? Why was she mad at you then? You literally brought them together! 

And all you got in return was her telling him she didn't feel comfortable with him having a girl best friend. That ungrateful bitch. 

He stopped calling. He stopped texting, he stopped carpooling with you and your mom after school and he stopped caring whether your math assignment was done or not. 

He stared pulling away more and more and it didn't matter how hard you tried to get him to talk to you, it seemed like he never really fucking cared about you in the first place. 

And by may that year, you didn't speak to San anymore. Granted, the only person he did speak to was Wooyoung, but even their friendship was falling apart. 

For the first time ever, San broke your heart firsthand. And it felt really, really fucking bad. 

You cried to your mom about it, she reminded you that you were nothing but a great friend to him and that, if he didn't take the time to appreciate that, that was his loss not yours. 

And she started hating him from that moment on. But you couldn't hate San, not even a little bit. 

Why would you hate him for not liking you back? For not loving you the way you loved hi— 

Your laptop closes down right in front of you and when you try to look up to find out who's responsible for interrupting your writing time, you get interrupted again. 

“Ouch! What the fuck, Gyuri?” the slap to the back of your head is quick and fill with rage. 

“What the fuck are you even writing. I can read from here, you know?” 

“I'm just laying my feelings down and— Ouch! Stop that!” You try to hit her back but she turns away quickly when your hands almost knock her coffee mug out of hers. 

“You can't possibly still have love for San, Y/N. It's been years.”

It's been four and a half, to be precise. But who's counting, right? 

“And why are you writing it in third person? You don't usually do that.” 

“I don't really know, Gyuri!” 

“I’m telling you, this celebratory dinner bullshit it's affecting you way more than it should,” she sighs, plopping down on the couch of your shared living room, and you leave your seat at the table to join her “He might not even show up. He has that thing with Kyungmi.” 

Kyungmi. 

You couldn't get to that part on your open document, but San left Minseo when he met Kyungmi at one of the frat parties they love to attend. Wooyoung told you that he said that it was love at first sight and you even met her briefly when you picked Gyuri up from the apartment he and San got when they started college together. 

She’s gorgeous and doesn't look like Arin or Minseo at all. It’s a different type of gorgeous. She's a year older than San and went to the same school as them and Gyuri. 

You think you might even like her better than him. 

You tried to be happy for San when you found out, but you two barely even speak a word to each other and you convinced yourself a while ago that you couldn't care less if he sees right through you and your fake smiles. 

You gathered, after everything happened, that San knew you liked him and took advantage of that. Unintentionally, but he did anyway. 

You sigh, resting your head on your best friend's shoulder. “It’s his best friend's celebratory dinner, though, he needs to be there.” 

Two seconds pass and then you both say it at the same time: “He’s in love.” 

And when San is in love, he has a one track mind with the name of his lover as the goal. 

You nod, but you can't help but to be insistent “It's Wooyoung's celebratory dinner, he needs to show up, right?” 

“I might not even show up, he's a pain in the ass.” She replies but you can tell her annoyance is not genuine and it makes you smile. 

Gyuri and Wooyoung broke up towards the end of your first year of college but you all stayed close friends. A one year relationship was not enough to fuck up the friendship they had and they decided to stay civil until, eventually, they became close friends again. 

To this day, you wonder why you and San couldn't rekindle your friendship when it became clear to you that you missed your friend and not the guy that you liked. 

Because San was always your friend first and your first love second. 

But it doesn't really matter anymore, because Gyuri is forcing you to shower and reminding you that you two need to keep Wooyoung on his best behavior tonight. 

“That girl he used to like before me is going, he said. I looked her up, she's single and he needs to get together with her because I can't take him whining about it anymore.” 

They keep things with each other way too civil, you think. 

“I'm telling you, if we don't show up he's going to do that thing where he gets drunk and makes a fool of himself. I can't have that, I'm on a mission.” 

“A mission to get your ex laid?” You ask, shampooing your hair. 

“A mission to get him a girlfriend so he can stop crying to me about feeling lonely.” 

“Maybe he wants you guys to—” The shower curtain opens and you see your best friend’s scowl before covering yourself up with your hands. 

“Gyuri!”

“Don't you dare say what you were about to say or I'm divorcing you.” 

You chuckle “Sure you are.”

You're left alone again with the water stream and she goes back to do her makeup “I told you back in ninth grade that we weren't a great fit and I was right. We can't get back together,” she sighs “It'll ruin everything.” 

“I doubt it will but you guys have been friends longer than you were boyfriend and girlfriend, so I'll just have to deal with my parents being divorced and civil.” 

“God, don't ever refer to us like that again— Oh! Speaking of parents,” you see her beam at her phone when you move the shower curtain to search for your towel and then she shows it to you “Mingi and Love just celebrated their one year anniversary!” 

Love being Mingi’s best friend. Gyuri talks to you about her college friend group all the time. The drama fuels your dinner conversations, you even follow a few of them on social media. 

“What does that have to do with parents?”

“They're the mom and dad of the group.” 

San is in that friend group, you can see him in the back of the picture and you recognize his apartment layout too. He's not the main focus of it but he's all you can see until you notice the couple sitting near him on the couch. 

The picture shows both of them, her in his lap and Mingi looking at her with stars in his eyes. 

Good for them. 

“Is that the girl he was friends with forever before they finally realized that they were in love?” 

“Yeah,” she sighs in contempt, looking down at the picture again “I was there the day it happened. I mean, not physically with them, but they left Yunho's party together and I told Wooyoung that it was finally about to happen!”

Gyuri is not a romantic person at all. Her excitement shows you that she really loves them and so you soften at the news that would usually give you and your dry love life a headache “It was the day before you called me to get you out of that awful date.” 

Ah, that also happened back then. You shudder at the memory.

“Tell them I say congrats, babe.” 

“I'm bringing you as my plus one.” 

You laugh, confused “To where?” 

“Their wedding, duh.” 

“They practically just got together,” you remind her, a year is not enough time to propose “And I don't really know them, Gyuri!” 

“They love you,” she assures you as you step out of the shower “I have been speaking about your antisocial ass for years. They can't wait to meet you.” 

“So you've been shit talking behind my back for years? Is that what I'm hearing?” 

She laughs “No, babe, that's Wooyoung's job.” 

Clearing your throat and looking at your friend through the mirror, you try to be as nonchalant as you can when you ask: “Has he… Did he tell you if…” 

“No, Y/N, I have no clue if San is going or not and Wooyoung is actually mad at him at the moment.” 

“Why?” 

She looks at you, sighing “He's been lacking as a friend lately.” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you're not planning on swooning if you see him. Fuck him, Y/N.” 

“I know…” 

“And by fuck him I mean he doesn't deserve you or your forgiveness.” 

“He didn't do anything to me, Gyuri,” you remind her, shrugging “Not reciprocating my feelings is not a crime so I don't have to forgive him for anything.” 

You can practically feel her starting the San hate train engine, so you step out of the bathroom but her voice follows you. 

“And what about that time he ditched you for Minseo when you asked him to go with you to that medical appointment, huh?” 

“Cut it out, Gyuri…” 

But her head peaks around the corner, into the hall where you're rushing towards your room “Or that time when—” 

“Can't hear you!” Turning to look at her, she gives you an affectionate middle finger and heads back to the bathroom.

Closing the door, you lean into the thin wood and sigh, getting San’s face out of your mind so you can focus on getting ready and actually show up for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. 

He just got a permanent position after completing his internship at a company that's your company's rival. He's going to crush you and steal clients from you but you are genuinely so happy for him. 

You should've guessed he enjoyed books as much as you did back in highschool. The debates he used to have with Gyuri were not all about flirting with her but also because he has a passion for books. 

And now he's going to work in the same field as you.

You're so proud of your friend. 

As you get ready, you remember the excitement cruising through your body when your boss trusted you enough to give you the first manuscript of a new client so you could edit it. You're sure Wooyoung is going to do better than you, taking into account that he actually went to college for this. 

You didn't. 

You met your boss at the part-time job you got in senior year, when you were trying to distract yourself from all the pain and the horrors of becoming a grown up. She was chatty, got a little too drunk on soju and told you she was starting her own book publishing company. 

When she returned months later after remembering that you told her you loved books and would love to work for as a publisher one day, she offered you a job in her company right after graduating highschool. 

You took it because you didn't think an opportunity like this would show up ever again. 

She was truly a blessing, the kind of person you never really believed in until she taught you all you needed to know about publishing and editing and encouraged you to take online classes during the nights so you could get, at least, a certification on what you do. 

You're proud of yourself too. The opportunity found you in a specific moment of your life where both your heart and your self esteem were destroyed and now you're not the person you used to be. 

Maybe that's why the possibility of facing San makes you so nervous. Collective memories are dangerous because the details never match the ones on the other person's head. 

You know who you were back then but… Are you the same person in San’s head? 

You don't even want to find out. 

Scanning your outfit in the mirror for the last time, you take the shoes you're wearing tonight out of your closet and walk over to the living room. 

Only to find Gyuri laying on the carpet under the coffee table, half dressed and on her phone. 

“You're going to mess up your hair.” 

“I don't care, I'm not going.” 

Sighing, you seat down on the couch and staring at the wood of the table covering her face. 

“What happened now?” 

“The bitch canceled!” 

“Wooyoung?” 

Poking her head out, she frowns at you “No, his first love.” 

“You were his first love.” 

“You know what I'm talking about, Y/N!” 

Laughing at her, you offer her your hand “Get dressed. Who cares if she's not going? He's not going to sulk because he's going to have you and his best friends there.” 

She whines like a child when you pull her up from the floor “I had a plan!” 

“Then make a new one, babe. We're going to be late.” 

She starts to whine again but then stops mid-groan to give you a once over. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance for the first time in years. 

“You look really hot…” she tells you and you fake gag at her words “Really pretty. Like a fairy and a smoke show at the same time.” 

You can't possibly look like that when you have such a simple outfit on, floor length high waist black pants and a flowy sleeve top that ties in the middle. It's barely formal but now you're thinking too hard about it. 

Blushing, you wave your hand to dismiss her compliment “Oh, my god. Go and change!” 

She rushes to her room on the opposite end of the hall and you finally breathe, looking down at your choice of fit and wondering if it's too much. 

Gyuri would've told you if that's the case, but either way it haunts your mind in the car on the way there, leg bouncing up and down under your best friend's judging gaze that only softens when you pout at her. 

“They are going to love you, babe. I'm so serious, they've been waiting years to meet you.” 

You nod because, yes, you're concerned that her friend group is not all as welcoming as she paints them to be. 

And you wish your doubts would go away but you're really, really not good at making friends. You're cautious, extremely closed off to new people and not as good with conversation no matter how much confidence you gained over the past years. 

When you walk to the loudest table at the laid back restaurant their friend Seonghwa made the reservation at, you think you won't be able to fit in with everyone else. You feel like an intruder, like Gyuri is supposed to enjoy this part of her life without you here. 

That's why you rejected every invitation they ever made. 

You celebrate birthdays with her, with Woo as well, but it's all very intimate and separate from their social circle, the one that includes the man you haven't fully faced in years. 

But you can't exactly back out now, not when one of them turns to you and seems to light up when they see you. 

“Oh? Is this her?” you recognize Hongjoong from pictures, he's the only one facing you when you approach the table, lowkey hiding behind Gyuri like a child. 

“Who?” 

“Huh?”

San is nowhere to be seen. Thank god. 

Slowly, everyone turns around and you see their faces light up with both delight and surprise. Your heart is pounding, you feel it in your throat, in your eyes, in the heat that colors your cheeks. 

But Gyuri just steps aside and presents you with a smile “This is her!” 

“Oh, Y/N!” Wooyoung gets up, rushing towards you and crashing into your frame with a crushing hug “I'm so glad you're here,” he murmurs into your hair and then turns to his friends, quiet them down “Everyone, this is Y/N, one of my best friends in the entire world.” 

He's such a dramatic human being.

You love him so much. 

Raising your hand, you shyly wave at them “Hi.” 

The entire table erupts with joy. Some of them greet you, some of them are saying that they are happy to be finally meeting you and Wooyoung grabs your arm and plops you down into the seat next to Gyuri, at the edge of the table. 

Laughing, you apologize for not meeting them sooner and then you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. 

Panic raising, you quickly turn around to see who it is before releasing a shuddering, but calmer, breath. 

“She's a very busy woman, guys. She works for the competition, my competition,” everyone gasps at that but Wooyoung is smiling at you “and she's very good at what she does. Which means she's busy, get off her case,” he puts a glass and a can of beer in front of you “Drink, babe.” 

“Thanks, babe.” You whisper back and he leans in to peck your head before going away. 

Gyuri groans “Stop stealing that from us! It's our thing, Y/N, don't indulge him.” 

“It's his celebratory dinner…” you argue with a laugh that Hongjoong and Mingi follow. 

“Yeah! Can you get off my case tonight, Gyuri?” 

She huffs, wrapping her arms around you “I hate you all.” 

“No you don't!” 

The table laughs and everyone returns to their individual conversations when Woo sits down on his spot. 

There's a few seats left, one besides Mingi and one right in front of you but you don't think too much about it because soon Gyuri gets up to ask Yeosang something and Seonghwa occupies her seat right beside you. 

You think he can sense that you're more shy than you let on, because he doesn't include you in whatever he and Yunho were talking about and waits until he stops talking to him to turn to you. 

“So, you work for a publishing company?” 

The question caughts you off guard and you swallow the beer quickly before nodding “Y-yeah, I… Yeah.” 

He chuckles “You're nervous.” 

“I'm just not as good at meeting people as Gyuri is. She usually does the job and I tag along.” 

“I feel like I know you already, though.” He says, leaning back on his chair. 

“Because she talks a lot about me?” he nods “Yeah, she tends to do that.” 

“Wooyoung also talks a lot about you, San too… Sometimes,” your cheeks heat up and he misinterprets what it means “All good things, I promise.” 

You doubt that. 

Your brain gives you a hundred and one possible things San could've said about you. 

For some reason, none of them are good. But you choose to believe the gorgeous, long haired guy in front of you. 

“Well that's good to hear,” you take another sip of your drink before smiling at him “I was sure Woo was trash talking about me.” 

He shakes his head with a smile “He wouldn't dare, he has Gyuri on his ass all the time and I'm sure she would kill him.” 

“I'm sure she would kill him even if he didn't do it.” 

His smile grows wider “That's true,” he says, looking over at them who are, very coincidentally, fighting about something. You let out a sigh and he laughs again before clearing his throat “So, the publishing company. What kind of books do you like to edit the most?” 

Your smile grows wider too. 

For the next hour, you talk to Seonghwa about your job and how you started in it. He asks you about your classes and the challenges that you face on a daily basis and Wooyoung overhears and ends up joining the conversation as well.

You don't even hear footsteps nearing until a voice cuts everyone off. 

“I'm sorry I'm late!” 

“Baby!” Mingi gets up from his seat, but no one else does so he's stuck between the table and his girlfriend. 

“Oh, that's Love, huh?” you ask Seonghwa, Wooyoung too entertained messing with the couple to hear you anyways. 

“Yeah… Is that how Gyuri refers to her?” He frowns.

“Mhm,” you answer, leaning into him like you're about to tell him an important secret “I'm not supposed to call her that, don't tell her.” 

Seonghwa leans in too, pretending to zip his mouth shut and you laugh. 

The girl wiggles her way into the seat reserved for her and everyone lets out a groan when they smooch each other. You can only giggle and the sound draws her attention to you “Y/N?” 

You quickly nod “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you! Finally, I thought Wooyoung and Gyuri had an imaginary friend,” you laugh, shrugging at the joke “Love your outfit, by the way, are those— Oh, San, hi— Are those jellyfish?” 

You want to answer. You truly do, the yes right at the tip of your tongue, but words leave you when you turn your head around and find San already looking at you with wide eyes.

He looks great, he's a bit more muscular than what the pictures show and than the last time that you saw him, his arms hugging the fabric of the dress shirt he's wearing like it was tailored for him and everything. 

How dare he. 

You wonder if his heart is beating as loud as yours is right now. If he's surprised, disappointed or happy to see you at all. 

“Her favorite animal.” He answers for you “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi…” you whisper back and it feels like you're in a trance. He doesn't look away but the table quieting down once again snaps you out of it and you turn to the girl with a wide smile that you hope conceals whatever the fuck you're feeling at the moment “I love jellyfishes. Had a phase as a child when I would exclusively talk about them, too,” you chuckle, nervously, reaching for your earrings instinctively “Gyuri gave them to me as a present last Christmas.” 

You definitely overshared just now. From the corner of your eye you catch your best friend getting ready to step in if needed. 

Love looks at you, then at San (who's just standing next to you without uttering a word) and then back at you again, smiling like she just figured something out “Well, I love them.” 

“Thanks…” 

Coughing unnecessarily loud, Wooyoung gets up from his seat “You're late.” 

It takes a second but San tears his gaze away from you to look at his best friend and you take the opportunity to chug down the rest of your beer “Sorry, something came up.” 

Seonghwa turns at that and looks at him as well “You good?” 

“I am. Did you guys already eat? I'm starving.” 

“Nope. We're about to order. Let me get you a drink, come here.” And just like that, he disappears from your view and you almost sigh in relief. 

“Are you good?” Seonghwa asks you next and you reckon he's very observant. But then again, you're not the most gracious human being when you're in San’s presence, so, you figure everyone else noticed your change of mood as well. 

“Yeah, I just… I haven't seen him in a while and I didn't think he was coming. I was surprised, that's all.” 

“I can see that,” his eyes move around your face for some reason, frowning a little bit but then he seems to let it go, getting the menu closer to you “Okay, good, um… I actually made the reservation here because they have the best samgyeopsal in town.”  

“Do they?” 

“Mhm, so…” 

He helps you pick your food and when it's time to order, he moves back to his seat. Gyuri asks you with her eyes if you're okay, you nod and grab her hand under the table with a tiny smile and then everyone is moving around to make space for San and Woo once they return. 

He doesn't sit in front of you. 

Relief floods you and you can finally feel your muscles relax as he is so far away, at the other end of the table and in the same row of seats, so you don't really see him unless you really try. 

Which you don't, so your food goes down easy and the rest of the night as well.

Until everyone but you and Seonghwa move around their seats and he ends up right in your point of view as you do your best to ignore him and focus on his friend. 

Seonghwa asks you about your hobbies, you tell him that you love to write movie essays on websites no one even cares to read and he asks you to show it to him so he can look it up when he gets home.

“And you've always done this? Since highschool?” 

You nod and he beams “I read like the first three lines and it looks really good, Y/N. Is that why you love books so much? Because you're a writer?” 

“I wouldn't consider myself a writer but… Sure, I love to write.” 

“Did you know this?” he turns to San and your smile drops a little. 

“Know what?” 

“Your friend is an excellent writer.” 

“Oh, I know. She, uh… Used to write stories on her notebook instead of paying attention in math class,” he sips on his drink and at the detail you didn't know he knew, you turn to him fully “I used to read over her shoulder sometimes.” 

“She's really good.” Seonghwa is looking at your phone, still reading “Really smart, too.” 

San’s jaw tenses a little and you can't understand why “I know.” He says again. 

His friend is none the wiser, blocking your phone and returning it to you “I like it,” he says, smiling and you blush “The essay.” He clarifies after a second, prompting a laugh out of you that he joins. 

San doesn't laugh, but you don't pay attention to him because Seonghwa is asking you something else. 

When it's time to leave the restaurant, Wooyoung suggests going back to his apartment to milk the get-together as much as you all can.

You all throw your napkins at him in feign disgust at the choice of words but you all accept his proposal either way. 

So now you're sitting on the couch, legs crossed and head on Gyuri’s shoulder while you listen to all of them talk (more like argue) about something that happened at their university last week, their voices drowning the soft music playing out of the tiny speaker resting on the counter. 

San is on the floor, to your right. It's hard to keep your eyes off him when you feel him looking at you when you close your eyes and let the noise fade into the background. It's not like you're able to add something to the conversation anyway and Gyuri seems to be drinking her sorrows (not being able to hook Woo up with the girl she told you about) away. 

Your best friend is slurring her words already, drink in hand and index finger pointing at Jongho accusatively because, apparently, the fight they're talking about was his fault. 

“You don't—” she hiccups “You don't even know why it was your fault and it pisses me off even more, you know?” 

“Okay, let me take that.” Taking the drink from her hand and before she starts complaining you stand up to make your way into the kitchen. 

The sink is full and a mess, so you pour the liquid into it and leave the glass sitting right beside it. Distracted by the dilemma of helping Woo out with the dishes or not, you don't notice someone else also entering the space.

That's why you jump a little when you turn and catch Seonghwa leaning on the wall by the entrance. It startles you enough to laugh the nerves out afterwards and he shakes his head, smiling. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. They're boring me to death with the fight story.” 

You nod, realizing that maybe that's because he doesn't attend the university anymore. He told you he graduated last year “They're too drunk to let it go.” 

“Too drunk to dance to this amazing song, too. Who's playlist is that?” he frowns and you rest your back into the sink, rolling your eyes because he's pretending he doesn't know “Oh! Right, it's mine.” 

“And they just don't know how to appreciate it, huh?” he shrugs and you click your tongue “They're such bad friends, Seonghwa, I truly don't know why you keep them around.” 

“You appreciate it,” it's your turn to frown and he leaves his spot at the wall to walk towards you “You were singing along to it,” he explains and you let out an ah, nodding as he extends his palm to you, clearly inviting you to dance. 

“Oh, I don't… I don't really know how to—” 

“I'll show you.” 

His kind eyes are asking you to trust him. You really, really shouldn't. 

No matter how hard you try to bury the hopeless romantic little girl who decided to have a crush on a guy back in ninth grade, she's still there, begging you to let loose and live a little. 

When you grab Seonghwa’s hand, you think the smile he gives you was worth listening to her. 

You can't even tell the song that's softly playing anymore, a mellow r&b melody reaches your ear but you are not listening. You're focused on him, on the way he spins you around even if it doesn't fit the bit, on the way he laughs softly against your ear when he pulls you close by your hand and then pulls away just as quickly. 

Laughing as well, the spell of this beautiful stranger (because you remind yourself you don't really know him that well) is hard to break. 

Until it does. 

Someone clearing their throat behind you stops you and Seonghwa's feet from moving any further. When the tall, older guy turns you around, you're face to face with San and his scowl. 

“Sorry to interrupt but I need to get started on the dishes. Everyone else is heading out too,” he looks behind you, at the man who's still standing close to you and grabbing your hand “In case you want to ask Mingi for a ride.” 

“They finally stopped fighting!” he fakes excitement, finally letting go of your hand and walking in front of you, blocking San with his body. You chuckle, barely clapping your hands to join the pretense as he's pulling up his phone “Can I ask for your number, Y/N?” 

Blinking a few times, you're not sure if your heart speeds up because he's asking or because you hear San sigh exasperated behind him “S-sure.” 

When you put your information on his phone, he bids you goodbye with a pat on your head and hugs San on his way out the kitchen. 

Now that you two are alone, you suddenly want to run and join Seonghwa. You were doing so, so well. 

Avoiding San like the plague it's much easier when you're safe hiding behind your two best friends. 

Ignoring his stare would be much easier if you weren't stuck into place. 

“I—” 

“You—” 

You both speak over each other and you force out an uncomfortable laugh that he doesn't return. Instead, he motions you to go first while he occupies the space in front of the sink, turning the faucet on. In doing so, he has to grab your waist and move you out of the way which makes you short circuit for a second “I was going to help you with that.” You finally stammer out. 

He lets out what you take as an annoyed chuckle. 

“You seemed busy, I don't know how you would've done it.” 

Ouch. 

Why do you allow his words to cut so deep when you stopped caring about what he does a long time ago? 

The band aid rips, the stitches come undone and all it took him were five seconds to melt your resolve away like it was never there in the first place. 

“I'll… I go get Gyuri so we can leave Woo and you to get to it, then.” 

“Bathroom.” You hear him mutter under his breath as you are taking the final step to leave. 

“Huh?” 

“She's in the bathroom, probably puking her breakfast out,” he looks up at you to give you a tiny smile “You left her alone with Jongho and Woo for five minutes so she got ahold of another drink.” 

“God damnit.” 

Rushing out, you run into everyone else at the door and Mingi has to let go of his very intoxicated girlfriend when she reaches you to give you a hug “Don't be a stranger, Y/N! It was lovely to be around you, hm?” 

The sudden physical contact almost makes you gasp but you cover it up with a shy giggle “O-oh. Yeah, um, lovely to meet you too. All of you.” 

“Sorry about that,” her boyfriend grabs her arms and breaks the hug “She's right, though. Don't be a stranger.” 

You nod once, smiling a little more sincerely now and everyone says bye to you, including Seonghwa, who grabs your hand one last time and gives it a squeeze before closing the front door of the apartment. 

You think you feel your heart skip a tiny bit under all the shit San’s words pulled up to the surface a minute ago. But there's no time to dwell in that: you hear Gyuri opening up the bathroom door before gagging and closing it again with a slam. 

Jesus Christ. 

You two are really getting old. You stopped drinking like an hour ago, when you were starting to feel tipsy after your second beer, and you know she didn't drink as much as she used to maybe four years ago, but the visage that welcomes you when you open the door and find her crouched down in front of the toilet certainly brings back memories of those times. 

“I left you alone for like… five minutes.” Sighing, you lean in to hold her flimsy ponytail and pat her back. 

“I'm good,” she gags again and then holds up her hand to stop you from saying anything else “I'm fine.” 

Smiling, you help her up and she grabs the counter as she's washing away the taste of whatever she ate earlier today and alcohol “Me when I lie…”

“Y/N!” she hits your arm but the movement somehow almost makes her trip. 

“You want to lay down?” 

“Is she okay?” Woo’s head peaks into the bathroom and when he sees his ex, he makes a face. 

“Does she look like she's okay?” you help her out of the bathroom and start heading for Wooyoung's room. 

“Wow, wow— Where do you think you're taking her?” 

“To your room, dumbass!”

“Why mine? San's is literally right there.” He whines, pointing at the door you pass by without a second thought. You don't want to know where his room is or what it looks like at all. 

“Yeah, well, did San get her this drunk?” 

“How was I supposed to know that she was at her almost black-out phase? She never drinks that much in front of me!” he complains again but you're already tugging Gyuri in, who mumbles something incoherent and then flips Wooyoung off “Na Gyuri if you puke on my bed I swear to God!” 

If you didn't know Wooyoung so much, the whining and the attitude would probably make you think he didn't care for her at all. But he's brushing her hair out of her forehead, securing the blanket around her and moving to take her socks off when you reach the door. 

“I'm guessing you're okay with her staying the night?” 

“Of course you guys can stay the night, Y/N.” He says and he stumbles a little to get to you, so you smile and shake your head, about to let him know that you're not staying anywhere near his roommate when he continues “You can come over whenever you like. You know that, right?” 

“I know, Woo.” 

“I barely even see you these days, I… Oh! I forgot!” he points to the end of the hall, towards the kitchen “You guys don't really like each other so maybe don't come over when he's here because I don't want to see you sad!” 

“Lower your voice,” you whisper to him, bringing a hand to his face and patting his cheek a few times to wake him up “Did the alcohol suddenly hit you or something?” you sigh for the umpteenth time “Anyways, you should lay down and I'll get going. I'll come pick her up tomorrow and—” 

“That's such a great idea! Oh, I'm a genius.” 

“You didn't come up with it, Wooyoung.”

“San!” he calls all of the sudden and you wish he was sober enough to read the panic on your features. He seems much, much sober when his best friend starts walking down the hall and stops right beside you “Take Y/N home, please, she's going to give you a bag that you must protect with your life.” 

Said best friend looks at you, his eyebrow arched in a silent question “Gyuri’s stuff.” 

“Ah.”

“Go, go. It's getting late, I'll just… I'll cuddle with my ex until you get home.” 

And she has the nerve to say he doesn't want her back. 

When the door to Wooyoung's room closes and you're left with San on the poorly lit hallway, you make a mental note to never step foot on this place or allow your friends to drink ever again. 

You don't even look at the guy before practically running down the hallway and reaching for your bag. You make sure your phone is secured in your pocket as you slip your shoes on and soon you're grabbing the front door knob and twisting it. 

Keys jingle next to you but, again, you don't spare San a glance. 

“So—” 

“I'll get out of your hair, you don't have to… walk me home or whatever he said.” 

“Y/N, it's late.” 

Turning to him, your smile is as fake as the ones you've been giving him the past couple of years “And I'm a grown up, San, I can walk myself home.” 

“What about Gyuri’s stuff?” 

“She can wear Wooyoung's clothes, it's not like they never shared before. Anyway… Thank you for having me, it was nice to see you. Goodnight.” Your response comes out fast and it sounds as planned out as it actually is, kinda robotic and devoid of actual emotion. 

San can't see through you the way you see through him. It's okay, he won't mind it. 

He probably won't mind that you close his own door on his face either. 

If that door is what you hear when you're making your way down the stairs in order to make a fast escape, you choose to ignore it. 

You have to stop mid-way to compose yourself. You don't know why you feel like crying or why your heart is beating so fast. 

You knew going in that there was a possibility of seeing him tonight. You know how San affects you, so effortless and seemingly like no time has passed at all in between senior year and present day. 

You know all of this already, it's an endless loop that will keep repeating until you either move away or decide to stop agreeing to Wooyoung's plans all together. 

So why is your chest heaving with emotion? Why is nostalgia playing mind tricks with you? Why do you want to turn back and hug him and beg him to turn back time so you can do it all differently now that you know how to look like and what to say to make him love you back? 

Ah, you're definitely not sleeping tonight. So you start distracting yourself while walking down the stairs again. You remind yourself to tell a much sober Wooyoung how proud you are of him. You think about Seonghwa, about his kind eyes and the way he grabbed your hand to dance with him just half an hour ago. You wonder how long it will take you to get home if you jog all the way there. You—

Why the fuck is San outside when you get there? 

In a comedic way, you can see your attempt to distract your mind off of him slipping through your fingers and evaporating in the warm summer night breeze. 

In a realistic way, you're fucking pissed at him for taking the opportunity of a good night sleep away from you. 

You pass him and start jogging like you planned a minute ago. Footsteps follow you until his arm brushes yours and you take a step to the side to stop it from happening again. 

“Go home, Choi San.” 

“Stop fighting it, Y/N. I'm walking you home.” 

“It's a twenty minute walk—” 

“Drop it.” 

You do. And for the first ten minutes, no one utters a word even if the tension feels electric and the street is so quiet so you can hear when his breath accelerates when he jogs to catch up to you whenever you try to leave him behind. 

Isn't that ironic. He was the one who left you behind all those years ago. 

“I didn't know that you danced.” 

He breaks the uncomfortable but safe silence to say that? 

“Well, you saw me dance so I clearly dance when I want to.” 

“You never danced with me.” 

“You never asked me to.” 

He laughs “I'm pretty sure I did on several occasions, Y/N.” 

“Well, you're wrong,” you're getting annoyed. How dare he think he remembers better than you? “It doesn't matter anyway, what's past is past and—” 

“You also gave Hwa your number,” he interrupts, his long legs taking two strides to get in front of you, still walking, facing your direction with his hands on his pockets. 

It's dangerous and stupid, even if the streets are practically empty and the sidewalk barely has any bumps. 

You hope he falls on his pretty face.

“I did.* 

“I don't have your number.” 

“Well, I changed it and you never asked for it, so…” 

“You could've called me or texted me to let me know you did it.” 

He's getting on your nerves.

“San,” you start, taking in a deep breath you hope calms you down “We don't even text anymore, why would you want my number?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Seonghwa?” you ask, frowning and he nods “Like… As a person?” 

“As a potential love interest.” He clarifies matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes. 

“I met him today, San. Why do you want my number?” 

“Because we're friends?” he offers after a second, shifting so he's walking by your side again. 

“Are we?” you ask, laughing bitterly at that “Because we haven't spoken a word to each other in years.” 

“That's not true.” 

“It is, San.” 

“You… You don't speak to me anymore, so…” 

“Well your girlfriend at the time told me she didn't feel comfortable with me speaking to you anymore,” you sigh “so I didn't and you didn't try to talk to me either.” 

“Well, I want to talk to you now.” 

“And is your new girlfriend aware of that? Is she comfortable with that? Because I don't want anyone telling me what to do anymore and—” 

“Why wouldn't she be comfortable? We're friends, Y/N.” 

“Are we?” you insist, petty, bitter and overall very, very hurt. 

He looks offended at that “I assumed we were?” 

He's getting on your fucking nerves. 

“We stopped being friends the second Minseo asked me to stay away from you because she didn't like me, San.” 

“She’s not in my life anymore—” 

The words are coming out of your mouth without even thinking it through. His demeanor, the way he's somehow reproaching you for whatever he saw between you and his friend, the way he pretends nothing happened between you and him, thinking that you two are still friends. 

“We stopped being friends when you pulled away from me, saw me do the same and did nothing to stop it from happening, San.” 

He stops in his tracks at that. You don't, pushing forward and quickening your step even if your calves burn. 

“Either way,” you speak up “Make sure you tell your girlfriend about wanting my number and then you can ask Seonghwa for it if you want—” 

“She's not my girlfriend anymore!” 

Now that stops you, just a few buildings down from yours, you turn around just to find San closer that you thought he'll be.

“O-oh. I… I didn't know that. I'm sorry.” 

“You didn't do anything to be sorry for.” 

“Still, it must suck so I'm sorry you're going through that.” 

“We didn't want the same things and so we ended it. It is what it is.” 

You nod. 

He walks the few steps separating you and you have to raise your chin a little to look him in the eye for the first time since you left his apartment “I wanted to tell you.” 

“That you broke up with your girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, I don't know why. It happened when I broke up with Minseo too, I just… You're the first person that I thought of calling when it happened. I texted you, too, but the messages didn't go through.” 

You hum at that. 

Why would he even say that? 

You resume your step, not really knowing what to say until you reach the stairs that lead to your building’s entrance. 

“And you didn't ask Woo for my number?” 

He follows you up. 

“I don't think he would've given it to me if I asked.” 

That sounds like an excuse, so you don't let it slide as you enter the code to your building and let yourself inside, San holding the door so he can get in as well “Why would he do that?” 

“Because he…” San sighs, pressing the elevator button “Nevermind. He just wouldn't.”

Frowning, you turn to him “No, now you have to tell me.” 

“It doesn't matter, really—” 

“Tell me, San.” 

He stares for a second and then looks away, like a child, vulnerable and you can't help but soften at that “He didn't like the way I treated you.” 

Eating your words from before, you shake your head “You didn't treat me like anything.” 

The elevator dings and you get inside. 

San follows you. 

“Exactly,” he says, resting his shoulder on the metal “Like you said I just did nothing and—” 

“Well, sometimes that's just what happens,” you want to end this. You want to pack Gyuri’s bag, give it to him and never see him again. 

This conversation hurts, it reopens barely closed wounds and it creates new ones you don't really need when it comes to whatever happened between you two. 

There's only so much a person can handle and it really doesn't help that you're a fool for San. He takes advantage of it, of the fact you can't really push him away at this point and the fact that he wants to have this conversation now instead of four and half years ago? 

Mean. 

He's mean. He's evil. He's… He's staring at you with a spark in his eyes that you recognize too well. 

Hope. 

When you get to your floor, you try to wipe the image away while busying yourself with your keys. Your hands tremble a little but you're able to open the door of your apartment and get in without inviting him. 

He gets in anyway. You take off your shoes as he closes the front door. 

He stays silent as he follows you around the apartment and you don't worry about turning the lights on. You get into Gyuri’s room and start picking out a comfy hangover outfit for your friend. Some clean underwear, sweatpants, two shirts and socks. 

When you drop to the floor, in front of the closet, to look for a bag to stash all of it in, San silently clutches beside you. 

“It shouldn't have happened to us. Never us.” 

You can't take it anymore. 

“San, what is this? What are you doing? I mean, why are we—” 

“I know.” 

“It's been years…”  

“I miss you.” 

He's so mean. But the softness in his tone resembles the one he used all the way back in highschool, when he told you that not being friends with you didn't feel right and you want to cave in right there and then. 

Your heart screams at you to do it, your reason warns you that you both have been through this before and it never ends right. 

You simply can't stay friends with Choi San. 

Your love for him must run too deep, your resentment claws at it and tries to hurt it but it's an immovable force that won't budge even if you try to bury it under the years that have passed, the things he has done. 

Tears gather in your eyes and you try to blink them away as you stare at your best friend's clothes on your lap and try to come up with something to close this path up again, reconstruct the picket fence you built around it the second he broke your heart for the first time. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back, letting the walls fall a little “I miss you too but I don't think I miss whatever version of you you are right now, San.” 

“W-what?”

His shaky voice makes the walls crumble and crash. 

Turning to him, your hand shakes as you place it on top of his “And you don't miss the version of me I am right now. You miss what I was back then, the comfort and the shoulder to cry on I offered you when Arin and you broke up. You miss my availability and the way I didn't press my feelings on you because it didn't matter if I liked you or not, you were my friend first and the guy that I had a crush second but—” you choke up, tears falling down your cheeks even if you don't want them to “I can't do it anymore. I'm not that girl anymore and I won't be there for you now that you and Kyungmi broke up because I can't handle it. I can't, I'm sorry.” 

He doesn't deny any of it.

He stares at you, tears wetting his cheeks as well and it hurts even more this way. You wish you had the strength to hold it together, to treat him like you did on the street a few minutes ago, but you can't. 

There's no way you could ever hate him like you want to. 

“You know…” he starts in a whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle “That's what I used to tell myself too.” 

“Hm?” 

“That you were my friend first and the girl that I had a crush on second.” 

How dare he mutter the words you always wanted to hear, the ones you picture being said in a different setting, the ones that haunted your every waking thought that period of time you doubted your friends, your mom, yourself for even believing Choi San could ever have a crush on you. 

He doesn't get to say them. You want to tell him but the words die on your throat and form a lump that you can't swallow down. 

You don't get to say that. You don't get to say that. 

Your hand drops from his and you look away again only to grab the first bag you find on the closet floor and shove Gyuri’s stuff in it. 

If the lack of response it's what prompts the hurt in his voice the next time he speaks, you don't want to think about it. 

“I wish I didn't. Now it's too late to do something about it, huh?” 

This time the rage comes back with a mask on. Feing settlement for all the what if’s covers you like a blanket on a really hot summer night: unwanted, unnecessary. 

But you can't sleep without it, so you do nothing to push it away. 

“I guess it is.” 

You get up from the floor, leaving the room and wiping your face with bitterness coating your movements as you wait by the door for him to get out. 

When he does and he steps in front of you, you extend the bag and he takes it without missing a beat. 

Voice robotic and words premeditated, you open the front door for him “Thanks for walking me home and taking this back.” 

He leans a little into your space and you don't move away. But just as he did in highschool, he takes in your hitched breath and does nothing more.

“Thanks for letting me talk to you.” 

He didn't give you much of a choice there but it's okay. This is closure, this is the end of your story with Choi San and you convince yourself you're glad that it is. 

“Sure,” you whisper back and he steps outside, turning around to watch you slowly close the door “goodnight, San.” 

He doesn't say it back. 

When the darkness of your apartment engulfs you, that's when you let yourself breakdown. Covering your mouth with your palm, you descend until your knees are against the wood on the floor and closing your eyes you make it a point to let it all out. 

You'll let it all out, drink some water, text Wooyoung and Gyuri to let them know you're safe and go to bed. 

And tomorrow you'll begin your day with the freedom of finally knowing what would've happened if you or San ever took the next step. 

This is fine. This is moving on. This is— 

The doorbell rings. 

Opening the door again, you crease your eyebrows in a silent question that San doesn't care to answer, so you look around the floor in case he forgot something you're missing. You wipe your cheeks and under your eyes as you turn to him again “Did you—” 

Time slows down when he makes it past the threshold and you can't move an inch, gaping at who you once thought was the love of your life “What are you doing, San?” 

“Something about it.” 

“What?” 

“Forgive me,” he asks, breathless and in a murmur, fueling your confusion. And then he's closing the distance, dropping Gyuri’s bag and cupping your face so gently that it hurts “but I'm doing something about it.” 

You stopped dreaming about the possibility of San kissing you that one time you two were on your bed and, another time, you told yourself that, if it ever happened, you wouldn't kiss him back. 

It's too late to kiss him back. 

But sparks fly when he crushes you against the wall and takes in a breath before slothing his mouth against yours like he's been waiting to do this every single day for the past nine years you've known each other. 

There's nothing you can do to conceal the way yearning takes over you, pours out of you, making you breathe into his open mouth and kiss him back like you always wanted to. 

You already know it is a mistake by the time you grab his shirt to keep him in place but does it really matter when this is all you ever wanted? 

Feeling warmth leave your face, you notice the way he desperately crowds your space as his chest bumps into yours, leg claiming its place in between yours, the palm that leaves you pressing against the wall, next to your head. 

The kiss is filled with emotion, with longing and desire and it steals the air out of your lungs tragically and beautifully at the same time. Before, you used to dream about his lips making everything feel right, making you fit in in a world you didn't feel like you belonged to. 

But this kiss drops you into uncharted territory, drags you into the depths of something that should be buried by now, after all this time. It brings the flame back to life and it's dangerous. 

The fact that it feels this way, both marvelous and catastrophic at the same time, makes you so sad. 

Sorrow descends down your face until your mouth is picking it up and your tongue is mixing it with whatever emotion is cruising through San right now. 

You have to know. 

He spent your entire youth and early adulthood keeping it to himself, knowing when to show his true colors and when to hide them, choosing who to do it with and you realize the San that lives in your head is nothing but a figment of what you wanted him to be. 

Because him holding to your waist like it's his only lifeline doesn't fit the San you remember, him telling you he liked you back then doesn't fit the guy who was just your best friend. 

You need to know. 

“San,” brokenly, you speak into his mouth and he pulls away just enough to see your face. Your eyes remain closed, your chest heaving and your lips trembling “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I want you, Y/N.” 

You push him away, weakly, almost like you don't really mean it because deep down you don't but he steps away like you're asking to. 

Because, of course, your mind scraps the bottom of your resentment to give his words a completely new meaning. 

“You can find another girl to fuck and be your rebound, San,” more tears spill down and you wipe them away in anger but more threat to fall down so you cover your face with your hands and groan, desperate “I can't do this, especially not when I know that you know how bad I wanted you. Y-you know what you do to me San so stop—”

“I want you in my life. I don't— What? I don't want you like a rebound, I… Can we sit down and turn on a light so I can look at you when I say this?” 

His words should be reassuring but they're not, the way you tend to feel unlovable around him coming up to the surface, preventing you from thinking clearly. 

You can also feel his lips on yours still. It's dizzying but you manage to push yourself off the wall and pad around until you hit the switch of the warm light lamp near the couch and the apartment comes to life just like that. 

He takes in the space he's never seen before, walking slowly towards the living room and looking over the bookshelf that screams your name all over it. He smiles a bit as he looks over the book titles and you look away before your heart starts acting up again. 

You can't stay mad at him for long if he's looking through something so personal to you and smiling that fondly at it. It feels even more intimate than the kiss you two just shared. 

Wiping your cheeks once more, you are sure you look a mess but he doesn't seem to mind it once he comes into your point of view, sitting down on the couch, in front of your standing form. He grabs you by your hands until you're sitting next to him, close to him, cologne intoxicating your senses. 

“I told you I liked you when we were in highschool, right?” 

You nod. 

“You seemed surprised but it was dark so I'm not really sure. I thought you knew, everyone knew.” 

Oh, he's a comedian. 

“How would I have known, San? I… Yeri told me you liked me one time, in senior year, but I denied it. Then, my mom told me you seemed to want me in a non-platonic way and I dismissed her as well,” you take in a deep, shaky breath “For me, the thought of you liking me just didn't make sense. You loved Arin and she's… She doesn't look or act like I did back then at all, so how would I have known?” 

You didn't need clues and puzzles and what if’s, you needed words and actions that weren't confusing. You needed him to tell you back then, because telling you right now and kissing you senseless after he broke up with a girl he supposedly was very in love with means nothing but pain. 

“I didn't realize you liked me too,” you make a face, about to tell him off, but he interrupts “I didn't! I thought you liked Yeri and I thought you saw me as the annoying guy who wouldn't leave you alone. I only just realized it a couple years ago, because Woo told me.” 

You raise your eyebrows and mutter under your breath “I'm murdering him tomorrow.” 

The corner of his lips twitch before he shakes his head in dismissal of what you said “I liked you. I really, really liked you and never told a soul because… Well, it's scary when you fall in love, right?” 

“San, you had no problem telling Arin, Minseo or Kyungmi that you liked them.” 

He looks down to the floor, lost in thought and you want to open your mouth to take what you just said into a new direction, but you don't “Maybe that's because I didn't love them the way I love you.” 

Oh. 

Love you? As in… He loves you right now too? 

No way. 

“You didn't love me, San. You don't love me right now either, you… Maybe we both were in love with the idea of love? Maybe that's what happened and—” 

“Quit telling me what I'm feeling, Y/N. You always do that, you always assume you know what I'm feeling but you don't!” 

Raising your voice a little more, you try to get your point across in the worst way possible: by being stubborn “You don't know me! How can you possibly—” 

“I knew you back then, Y/N! And I loved you back then, too!” He looks like wants to say something more but he doesn't, instead, he takes a calming breath and then leans into your space for the third time tonight “And I might not know you now but I want to. That's what I meant when I said that I want you. I want you in my life, I want to know the person you became when we stopped talking, I want to talk to you every single day and I want to hold you and kiss you and be by your side however you want me to, I just… I can't lose you again.” 

His confession renders you speechless and you notice his chest is heaving, going up and down in sync with yours. 

But the way he pulled away from you senior year still hurts, it paints a picture of what's going to happen if you accept this. 

You can't believe his words. 

He must feel lonely and confused, like he did when Arin broke up with him. He must be looking for a shelter you can't provide. 

“And when you find another girl that's more to your liking? What then, San?” 

“There's no one that I love more than you, Y/N and I'm sorry I was shit at proving it back then and I'm sorry that it took so many years for me to come to my senses.” 

He's tearing up and your heart pangs absurdly loud at that. 

“I saw you with Seonghwa earlier today, laughing and dancing and flirting and I thought: Oh, maybe if I didn't waste that much time pretending I'm someone I'm not, that would be me.” 

You stare for a second, you watch a single tear drop down his cheek and then look away. 

“Is that what you were doing? Is that why you pulled away?” 

“Maybe?” he offers and you turn to him again. Is not enough and maybe he can see it in your expression, because he goes on “I mean, I… I thought I wanted Arin. I thought I wanted Minseo. I had people in my life who were really happy to see me with them and I just…” 

“Wanted to keep them happy,” you nod, understanding. He doesn't have to say his mothers name for you to know he's referring to her and maybe his other highschool friends outside of Wooyoung “Were you pretending with me as well?” 

“No,” he answers right away “You and Woo were the only ones who saw me for who I really was back then.” 

“And why do you think you love me now, San?” you ask, deflating against the couch and ignoring the way your heart soars at his quick response.

“Because I never stopped,” he stammers out and then clears his throat “Because I looked for you in Minseo and Kyungmi and I wondered for years why they couldn't make me feel the same way. And I told myself I didn't need to feel the same way and that I deserved to wonder for the rest of my days but seeing you tonight? I can't.” 

Straightening your spine, the pained look you sent in his direction is not intentional but it prompts him to lean closer and closer until he's cupping your cheek again. 

“I can't keep wondering.” His voice is a sweet whisper, a siren song that draws you in until your forehead is resting against his. 

All these years, you were so self-focused on changing to a better version of who he used to know, learning from your mistakes and closing off to the opportunity of letting him prove himself a better man, you forgot that time passed for him too. He’s telling you he changed, too. 

Imagination is a safe space. Is where you hide, where desire can take its wings and fly high without hurting you too much. Make belief has rescued you before but this? The way his nose nuzzles softly into yours and your breaths tangle? This is very real. And reality is prone to hurt you. 

But the want you feel is undeniable. The way your entire being wants to cave in and give him an opportunity is suffocating, it makes you choke out a sob that he follows with one of his own. 

You kiss him, softly at the beginning, but his hands on you tighten and you let yourself get lost in the way they go down your neck and your arms, caressing you softly until they reach your waist and pull you into his lap. 

Pulling away, you grab his chin with two fingers and force his teary eyes to snap open, searching for an answer on yours.

“If you hurt me,” you start, breathless “If you're mocking me, if you're using me to get over Kyungmi, if you are pulling me back in to break my heart again, Choi San, I swear to God I will kill you.” 

“I won't do that to you ever again, Y/N,” he returns softly “I love you, I'm sorry if I ever hurt you but I love you.” 

Others would argue that it is pathetic how quickly you forgive him. But then again, you could never be mad at San. 

You were only mad at yourself for how everything turned out. 

“I love you too, Sannie.” 

Saying something never felt so freeing before. 

“Oh, Y/N…” you can see the way relief washes his worries away “Y/N…” he starts to say but then leans in to kiss you again and never finishes his words. 

You don't mind it. 

Pouring out all the pent up affection you pretended to bury for years, you explore his mouth and carve into your memory the way he feels. The way he sighs into it when your tongue brushes his, the way he pulls you in closer when your fingers reach the nape of his neck and pull on his hair there, hands splayed on your back so he can keep you in place as he leans down and places you against the worn out couch. 

He maps you out, hands going down your waist in a familiar feeling that brings back that memory of you two laying down on your bed. Only this time, he's actually touching you with a purpose. This time, you two have made up your minds and your limbs are tangled in a way you can feel all of him pressing up against you. 

It starts to get stuffy, the space on the couch not nearly enough to have him the way you want to. Soon, you're both standing up, mouths still moving against each other and hands roaming everywhere until you're undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

He pulls away to fully take it off, eyes never leaving yours, dropping the shirt to the ground, next to the couch and then he's on you again, making your back crash into the wall as he works the knots keeping your blouse together. 

He walks you through the hall, stopping only to take your top off and then he's walking you to a room that has a familiar scent that doesn't belong to you.

“Wrong room, wrong room,” you say into his lips and he laughs, looking to your surroundings “Mine’s over there.” you point to the other end of the hall, taking his hand and pulling him towards it. 

You don't make it far before he's yanking you towards him again. He looks down, taking your body in and you do the same, his firm and defined stomach a sight you never thought you would be able to see. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, backing you against the wall again and kissing your cheek “So, so beautiful.” 

Turning your head to chase his mouth, he lets out a heavy sigh when his lips trail a path to your neck and murmurs against the skin there “I never told you how beautiful I found you before but you're so perfect, baby.” 

“I always thought I wasn't your type, San,” you let out a noise when he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, crashing his into yours “Fuck.” 

“And I always thought you were too much for me, too smart,” he kisses his way back up, focusing on your jaw and chin until he's kissing your cheek again “too pretty,” he moves to your ear, pecking right under it and you hold him closer “too good for me.” 

It doesn't really matter that this is all new to you, the way he's speaking, the tenor of his voice, the things he's saying… It sparks something familiar in you. You're pulling his hair back to make him look at you, a moan slipping out of his lips at that. 

You want to hear it again. 

He's smiling at your reaction, hand tightening on his locks.

However, that smile drops when he seems to recognize the gleam in your eyes. 

You gather up courage, feeling empowered by the way his hooded eyes darken but wait patiently for you to speak your mind. 

“Maybe I'm too good for you now, too,” you lean in, your lips softly tracing his “Maybe you should prove to me that you deserve me, San.” 

It's a dare. One that he seems to like a lot because his eyes sparkle with the same fire they used to back in the day. 

“Oh, I'll prove it to you, alright.” He whispers, panting when you let go of his hair and he leans into you to kiss your lips briefly before pulling away again.

His hand tilts your head back and you rest it against the cold wall, his fingers touch your bottom lip before going down and down and down until they rest against the seam of your pants, unbuttoning them in one swift movement. 

Going back up, his nails softly dig into your skin and you preen, taking the soft sting of his ministrations like you two have done this a million times before.  

His mouth is on yours again, his hands are pulling you off the wall and into your room until you two land on your mattress with a soft tud, a moan spilling out of your lips when he sloths his knee in between your legs and pulls them apart with expertise. 

You don't have the mind to break down what that means. 

Opening your eyes when he kisses down your neck again, you notice your room is barely lit by the street lights outside, curtains pulled open and windows closed but, this way, you can see the way San kisses between your breasts and your belly, catching his eyes when he looks up to measure your reaction. 

You sigh, already feeling some sort of build up going on down there and he hasn't even touched you properly yet. 

You don't even want to think about how wet you actually are. 

He leans back, open palms going down your legs slowly until they reach your feet. It tickles and you can't help but let out a giggle that he joins short after, his gaze never losing the edge because of it, though. 

“San…” 

He guides your hips up so he can take off your pants and you sigh when his hands return, raising your leg up “I missed your laugh,” he says low, attaching his lips to your calf “I miss being the one making you laugh too.” 

You feel like crying again but then he's letting your leg down and grabbing the other one to give it the same treatment, so your tears can wait. 

This time, he moves upwards till his mouth nears your clothed center and your breath hitches. 

Yeah, you can definitely cry later.

“You want me to prove to you how much I want you, Y/N?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting your mound now “How much I love you?” 

“San, p-please…” 

“Fuck, look at you.” He sounds like he's too lost in the heat of the moment and you're kind of grateful, because the moan you let out when his fingers hook on your underwear and pull them to the side to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes is loud. 

When he kisses you right where you need him, you let out another moan. And when he parts your folds to lick a stripe up to your clit, you curse him under you breath until he's laughing against you softly, the vibrations accumulating heat on your belly. 

He doesn't tease you much longer and you look down at him just to catch the moment his self control slips, eating you out like a man starved while his hand stays on your hip to hold you down and keep you underwear from interrupting his feast. 

“This is like,” he dives in again for a few seconds and you grab the sheets beneath you “All my fantasies coming to life but better.” 

He's so chatty during this and the only thing you can do is stammer a yeah? and pray for it to reach his ears.

“Mhm,” the circles your clit with the tip of his tongue and your legs shake “Taste even better than what I dreamed, too.” 

The heat of his mouth leaves you, lips spreading your wetness through your stomach until he fully reaches your face, your eyes closed and lips already waiting for him. 

Tongue caressing yours, your hands trail down his torso and focus on getting his pants off. You're shaking with excitement so it proves to be more difficult than you imagined at first but he helps you in unbuckling his belt. 

Once the piece of clothing is one the floor (or the bed, you're not really paying attention on where it lands), you don't waste time in feeling him up through his boxers. 

The hiss you get in return makes you smile. 

Bringing your lips to his neck, you suckle on this pulse point and gain another pleased noise before grazing your teeth against skin and moving to his collarbone next.

In a way, you get what he means. If he truly was pining over you the way you were pining over him, the thought of exploring his tan skin and making him moan feels like a dream. 

So you kiss him again in order to make it all last longer. 

The minutes pass between the both of you, softly making out and figuring out what gets both of you going, discarding your underwear in the process. 

You realize your moans make San’s cock twitch against your leg and he seems to notice the way your hips buck up everytime his hands handle you more roughly. 

After a few minutes of just this, you feel his hand making its way down again and the pads of his fingers circle your clit until you're grasping the sheets again. He gathers your arousal and then enters one finger slowly and when it slides in and out with ease, he enters the next one. 

There's really not much prepping he needs to do, already soft and compliant under him, you relax into his comfortable touch before you're aching for something else. And your mouth is preoccupied with his, so you do something else to catch his attention. 

Hands caressing his back, you let them drop to his ass with a soft smack that wins you a soft huff on amusement and then a whine when you move his hips towards yours. 

“Condom?” 

You shake your head “I'm clean and I have an implant.” 

“Oh?” he smirks, about to tease you but you squeeze his butt again and he moans “Fuck. I'm clean too.” 

“Good,” you whisper against his cheek, laughing as he arranges his position. 

And he might've been touching you all this time, kissing you until your mind emptied and your lips are all swollen up, but the look on his eyes when he slowly enters you is what might drive you over the edge. 

Grabbing your hands, he pins them on the side of your head as he moves, dropping his head down with a groan as you take him in, nose touching yours and moth whispering sweet things you can't quite pick up. 

He feels so good. 

This all feels way too good to be real. 

In the cloud you're at, you allow yourself to dream a little more before the reality of what your confessions mean dawns on you. 

For now, you allow San to make love to you. Sweetly, slowly and with a passion you never were lucky enough to encounter before. 

Maybe it's because your previous lovers didn't have your heart the way San does. 

He rams his hips into yours hard, closing his eyes and resting his warm cheek against yours, kissing your face inch by inch when you accompany his movements with your own. 

When his pace picks up, you hug him close and secure your legs around his hips as you moan. 

“Y-yes, fuck.” 

“Like that?” he repeats the movement from before, pulling out and then in with such force it rocks the entire bed. 

“Just like that, baby, fuck.” 

“God, you sound so good,” you smile a little, forehead resting on his shoulder before your head falls down against your pillow again “I love you,” he repeats against your lips, letting your hands go to cup your face with both of his again “I love you so much.” 

Teetering over the edge, you feel happy tears stinging in your eyes. Though closed, you can feel San’s stare on you, on your face, on the way you react to his sweet words and relentless pace. 

You say it back in a whisper and he repeats it again and again and again until you're both coming and tears are spilling down your cheeks. 

He kisses them away. 

You wipe his with trembling fingers as you come down, having trouble breathing from everything that just happened. 

You don't feel suffocated anymore, you feel like you've been freed. Like this was supposed to happen at some point and you two finally got around to it. 

“I love you,” he says once more before slipping out of you with a parting kiss. 

Holy shit. 

When San gets up from the bed and you point him to the bathroom, down the hallway, you're left with a sticky mess in between your legs and a lot to think about but you settle on four things. 

San just made love to you. There's no way that was just sex. 

There's also no way you're coming back from this. 

Gyuri is probably going to kill you. 

And that, obviously, your feelings for San never left. You feel the familiar warmth of them spreading through your post-orgasmic state. They're there, mocking you, asking you who the fuck you thought you were for pushing them away. 

He returns, toilet paper in his hands before leaning in and cleaning you up, lips immediately finding home on your skin as he does. 

You both giggle at that.

You probably need to shower but you've been crying and there's no way you're leaving this bed tonight. He throws the paper away on your bedroom’s trashcan and then crashes into the bed next to you, still naked, still looking at you with so much love you're wondering what stopped you from seeing it was there before. 

Taking his hand, you bring it to his lip and give his knuckles a peck “That was really good.” 

“It was.” 

“I can't believe we actually just did that…” 

He smiles and what he says next shocks you even more than his confession “I want to take you out.” 

“San… You just came inside me not even ten minutes ago.” 

“And?” you laugh and he shakes his head, leaning into your space again “I spent many years doing everything wrong, let me do it the right way.” 

“Making love to me one time and then taking me out on a date is not the right way, sir.” 

He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and you let out a pleased sigh “Who said it was just one time, huh?” Attacking your neck with his lips again, you push him away with a laugh. 

“Oh, come on!” 

He laughs as well “Give me ten minutes and I'll make it two!” 

San makes love to you two more times. And by four in the morning, you're snuggled into his arms and sleeping soundly. 

When you wake up and find the space next to you empty, you think it was all a dream. Your naked form begs to differ and you quickly put the t-shirt you usually wear to bed on and your panties underneath it to go out and face the feelings of your actions fighting with the blender in the kitchen. 

“How do you two live with this stupid thing?” 

“We don't,” you answer, startling him “We don't use it. What are you trying to make?” 

San’s shirtless, wearing his pants and his hair messy. Looking back at the living room clock, you see it's just five past ten. 

Smiling as he approaches you, you forget you must look a mess too when he pecks your lips and barely pulls away “Good morning, beautiful.” 

You pretend to cringe at that, pulling away “Oh, God. Morning, dumbass.” 

“You like it, you're blushing,” he points out and the pink on your cheek deepens as he's going back to the blender “Does anything work here?” 

“The microwave,” you shrug “And the stove. Were you trying to make yourself a…” you look over the ingredients he has pulled out of your fridge “Green juice?” 

“I was trying to make both of us a green juice,” he corrects and your heart skips at the immediate domestic attitude he has with you “But now I can tell neither of you drink anything like it, hm? I'm buying you a blender.” 

“Please don't.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think that one is broken?” 

He hums, huffing out a laugh seconds later and you walk over to him, unsure on how to approach him even though what you did yesterday night and earlier this morning didn't allow your shyness to step in. 

Now you're feeling it. 

He can tell, because he stops fighting with the steel appliances to grab your waist and pull you close “I wanted to make you breakfast.” 

“We can make breakfast together and I can order your green juice,” you compromise and he nods, but he doesn't let you go “And later we can go out on that date you promised me yesterday and we can go over what we're going to tell the two idiots.” 

His smile drops. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

Grimacing, you nod “It was the second thing I thought about after waking up.” 

“What was the first?” 

“Oh, I was trying to remember if you ever asked me to dance before,” he nods with a smile “Guess what? You didn't.” 

He fake gasps at that “I did!” 

“No, you didn't!” 

“Babe, yes I did,” he insists and you laugh, which prompts him to wrap his hands around you tighter when you try to get away from him “It was when—” 

“Oh. My. God. I'm going to be sick again.” 

Now when the fuck did Gyuri come back. 

And why is Wooyoung with her too, jaw slack as he watches both of you pull away from each other and create a safe distance that doesn't help whatever your best friends just saw. 

“It worked?” he asks and you can barely hear him until he hollers like a crazy person “Oh, it worked! I am a genius!” 

“Wooyoung, hold me! I'm going to kill them!” Gyuri looks like she's about to launch towards you at any second now, so you close your eyes and accept your fate. But nothing happens “Wait— What worked?” 

When you open them again, San is hiding behind you and Gyuri’s back is to both of you as she looks at Wooyoung with, what you assume, murderous intentions. 

“Gyuri, let's talk about this,” the black haired guy puts his hands up “You were too drunk to discuss it so I made the choice of— Gyuri, no!” 

You burst into laughter when she starts chasing him around the apartment and San giggles as well, only more nervous than delighted by their little cat and mouse game. 

He's probably sensing he's next on her hit list. 

As if you would let anything happen to him in the first place. 

“Stop, stop! I'm sorry, please leave me alone!” you hear Wooyoung’s voice echoing through your hall and in a second he's entering the kitchen, rounding you and San “I'm so happy for you guys, really, this was meant to happ— Stop!” He cries when Gyur catches onto him and yanks his hair to stop him from running.  

“Y/N,” she starts, chest heaving and you take a step back, crashing into San’s chest. He holds onto you only to push you a little and protect himself from the fury of your best friend “When I told you fuck him I didn't meant this!” 

“I know.” 

Wooyoung whines but he can't get away from her grasp so he just accepts it and pouts like a child. 

“A-and you!” She points towards the guy resting his chin on your shoulder “How dare you! If this is something casual for you then—” 

“I love her.” He defends himself quickly and your heart all but stops at that. 

“You do?” Wooyoung coos, amazed at his best friend’s confession. 

Gyuri's anger falters at that. 

“You… You do?” 

“And I love him,” you let out in a shy whisper, smiling a bit “But you already knew that.” 

“Of course I already knew that, bitch, I am your other half,” she makes a point to stare at San as she says it, letting Wooyoung go and he massages the part of his scalp that was targeted by his ex “Don't forget that.” 

“Y-yes ma'am.” 

You laugh again and Woo joins the embrace, eyeing you both expectantly and rolling his eyes when neither of you say anything to him “Well, you are so welcome guys. What are we having for breakfast?” 

You and San don't get to go out on that date. 

But when you do, he asks you to be his girlfriend the next day. 

And when you say yes he almost breaks down in excited tears.

Eventually, even Gyuri comes around and threatens him into treating you right, which means he earned her seal of approval. 

You delete the document on your laptop when you find it a month into being his girlfriend and, instead, start drafting your new beginning on it, in first person this time because the story doesn't feel like it belongs to someone else now.

The first line read as it follows: 

How did I ever think San and I could be just friends? 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

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[feeder86]

The Curse of Deansgate

An understudy for Chris Peterson? Most of Ned’s friends could not believe it. Nor could Ned, to be fair. The fact that Chris was even doing Broadway was almost just as unbelievable. Hollywood superstars, like him, rarely gave up the time for a twelve-week stint in a production like ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’. It was going to be, without a doubt, the hottest ticket in town.

Ned watched through some of Chris’ old movies before rehearsals began. He devoured them all: the romantic comedies, the science fiction classics, as well as the action hero thrillers where Chris’ shirt was pleasingly absent for multiple scenes. Ned swooned, still feeling unable to comprehend his good luck. He’d done the Broadway circuit for a few years now and was slowly building a name for himself. A major role in his last show had earned him the attention he craved within the industry, despite the show actually selling rather poorly. But Ned simply loved the theatre and couldn’t wait to see Chris in action on stage. He imagined that the guy would feel quite nervous performing to a large crowd every night, especially after exclusively working on movies for so many years. And, as his understudy, Ned would be sure to support him. He fantasised about them becoming best friends and forging a bond like no other. He felt the bubbling excitement in his stomach as the days ticked down, getting closer and closer to the beginning.

The media coverage was already everywhere, even before the two week rehearsal period. ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was a rarely performed production due to the superstition surrounding its commercial failures in the past. Written in the early twentieth century, ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ had apparently never once completed a full run in any theatre; although Ned doubted that to be completely true. Like all superstitions, it made Ned laugh to think that the play would make the usually level-headed investors go weak at the knees; much like all the actors he had met over the years, too superstitious to utter the words ‘Macbeth’ on stage. But a ‘cursed’ play certainly made for an awful lot of clickbait; cleverly helping to fuel the audience’s anticipation, as well as the advanced ticket sales.

However, there was also another reason why the play was being discussed so much; one that Ned felt a little more nervous about. The director would be the incredibly talented Gordon Harrison; an absolute master; especially here on Broadway, crafting incredible productions over a career that spanned decades. He had once played the lead in ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ back when he was in his twenties, and was resurrecting it now, perhaps as a form of nostalgia for himself. However, if anyone was to meet Gordon, it might not have been his ingenious directing creativity that they first noticed. Gordon was known to be one of the largest men working in the industry; a ginormous gut and wide butt, weighing in at a waddling five hundred pounds or more. 

Ned was sure that many people had probably made fun of Gordon’s weight over the years, but none so publicly as Chris Peterson. It had apparently happened early on in Chris’ career, when he was still making a name for himself, playing a small role in one of Gordon’s rare movie productions. When asked what he thought of the renowned director, a young, pretty-boy Chris had been less than complimentary, remarking to a journalist about how grotesquely greedy and lazy the fat director was on set; rarely getting out of his reinforced chair to offer notes to the hardworking performers and crew surrounding him; also referring to him as just another ‘failed actor’ who had shifted to directing once his first career ended. They were throwaway comments, but even Ned remembered the media storm that inevitably came from it. 

Perhaps not for the right reasons, Chris Peterson undoubtedly became better known afterwards. He’d been remembered and picked for bad boy roles where a little edge to the character’s personality was definitely a requirement. From there, he’d only gone from strength to strength, after his management eventually taught him to hold his tongue a little more when it came to badmouthing people he had worked with. Now, the director’s offer of the lead role in this play had been widely seen as an olive branch to the handsome actor, as a way to leave the past behind them; one that had been graciously accepted by Chris’ management team who convinced him to sign up straight away. And so, for the first time ever, the money was pouring in from investors, hoping to get a slice of success as ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was about to be performed to the public for the first time in thirty years.

Some men just had that aura about them. It was the thing Ned most remembered about Chris Peterson, the first time he strolled into the theatre. Like any Hollywood hunk, he was painfully handsome, not to mention stylish. But Chris was also incredibly tall and muscular, giving the perception that he could have turned his hand to any sport at all, had the acting career not worked out so well for him. Ned remembered how aroused he was, sitting in the wings, watching the final act, when Chris rehearsed the penultimate scene, completely shirtless: the broad back, the stunning chest, the insane six pack. Not that Ned was a stranger to the gym himself, it was pretty much given in his line of work, but there was just something so awe-inspiring about the physique of a true Hollywood leading man.

Unlike any other production Ned had ever been involved in, there were journalists waiting outside from day one of rehearsals. Gordon had made it clear that no one was to talk to them or pose for pictures, but that didn’t stop them shouting for attention each time the cast walked out. Usually they wanted to know about Chris, or about how Gordon was doing, working with a guy who had so badly insulted him almost ten years ago. If Ned had been allowed to answer them, he could have told them that, in fact, everything was absolutely fine. Ever the professional, a now twenty-seven year old Chris took to the theatre work with ease, and Gordon didn’t seem in the least bit resentful towards him at all. Perhaps that was the point. The reality was so fundamentally boring, keeping the air of mystery kept the media writing about the play and building that appetite for it.

As for Ned’s dreams of becoming best friends with Chris Peterson, well, that had always been unlikely. Although the man had learned all their names and was friendly enough, Chris kept himself to himself during break times and retained that Holwood mystique with the rest of the cast; continuing to be one of the only people Ned knew who could get away with wearing sunglasses indoors and still look sexy. But, in regards to being an understudy for him, Gordon had told Ned straight out that it was never going to happen. People were coming to this production to see Chris and that was exactly what they would get. It was the investors who had insisted on there being an understudy, just in case, but Ned was never going to actually get the chance to perform to an audience. He would simply stick to his significantly smaller role, dying before the end of the first act each and every night.

“Break a leg!” Ned smiled at Chris as the curtain was about to go up on their first night. He still got butterflies each time he had the opportunity to talk to the guy, even after the long rehearsals.

Chris smiled back, seeming as cool as could be; as if none of this phased him in the slightest. Then, with a final intake of breath, he stepped onto the stage, in front of a cheering crowd, surreptitiously dotted with some of New York’s harshest critics.

There was the strangest of feelings in the theatre that night; like an unheard frequency that was somehow ringing in the ears. Chris’ performance was powerful and moving; rising above anything they had witnessed in the rehearsals. Ned could already see the awards and accolades the Hollywood star was about to amass. The final act was a marvel, and Ned saw their large, oversized director sitting in an extra large chair on the front row, smiling with pride the entire time. When the final curtain fell, the audience rose to their feet, but Gordon remained seated. He looked pleased with himself, like he had just accomplished something he had been working towards for many, many years.

At the afterparty that evening, the excitement was electric. Everybody knew that the show was a hit; perhaps the biggest success they would ever be involved in; the pinnacle of their careers. Their director stood, having graciously acknowledged everyone in the cast and crew for all they had done, only leaving one final man to congratulate. He called Chris to stand beside him and slipped his big, heavy arm over the hunk’s broad shoulders.

“You’ve joined a very exclusive club this evening,” Gordon smiled. “There are very few ‘Gentlemen of Deansgate’ out there!” he nodded; acknowledging the fact that he too had once played the part, some twenty-five years ago. “You’re never going to be the same after this.” 

The grin on Gordon’s face was a little too perplexing for Ned. He couldn’t quite make it out. He held Chris’ stare for an almost uncomfortable time, until finally raising his glass and toasting the biggest Broadway smash in many, many years.

The reviews the next morning sang with praise, just as they had all expected. Ned poured over them all, hoping for even a brief mention of his own performance. Instead, Chris had stolen the show, and the promotional image of him in the final scene, shirtless and steamy, dominated much of the pages that were dedicated to the reviews. By lunchtime, Ned could recite almost all of them word for word. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had felt the curious atmosphere in the theatre that first night. Each review, every single one, seemed to comment on it in some form; like some magical awakening of acting greatness. Still, Ned cut every last one of them out, saving them all for his own personal scrapbook.

“Do me a favour,” Gordon insisted, raising his hand to get Ned’s attention as everyone else busied themselves backstage for the second night. “Drop these off with Chris, will you?” he insisted, thrusting a box of doughnuts towards Ned.

“What? Take them to his dressing room?” Ned asked, delighted and nervous about getting the opportunity to go and see Chris before the curtain went up. “Does he even eat doughnuts?”

Gordon chuckled. “Oh, he eats them alright!” he smirked, already waddling away to deal with something more pressing.

Ned held the large tray of doughnuts in his hands, feeling empowered, simply to go and see the star of the show before he went on stage. He raced along the corridor like a man on a mission and knocked firmly on the door until he heard Chris’ deep, masculine voice telling him to come inside.

Half dressed, Chris’ fine torso was on show as he collected all of his bits for the first act. Ned felt like he had entered at the absolute perfect time. “Um, Gordon sent these over,” he mumbled, trying to think straight and not stare too much at the gorgeous man in front of him. Just how many people would have paid serious cash to be standing exactly where he was right then?

“What are they? Doughnuts?” Chris asked, dropping his belt on the floor and heading straight over. He reached in and grabbed one with each hand, pushing one immediately into his mouth with the biggest bite Ned had ever seen. He moaned aloud and chewed quickly, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

“I didn’t know you were so keen on doughnuts,” Ned chuckled awkwardly, simply standing there, holding the box, not knowing where he could put it down. Chris was still purposefully in front of him, seemingly getting ready to take another round.

Chris didn’t answer. He simply moaned as he gorged on doughnut after doughnut; not even caring that his mouth was now covered in sugar. Ned stood there, watching the car crash in slow motion as the entire box was devoured in less than three minutes flat.

“Fuck!” Chris chuckled, swallowing the last of it all. “I had no idea I could do that!” he smirked, turning to look at himself in the mirror, then laughing at how immediately bloated his stomach had become. “Bring me another one of those trays after the show and I’ll let you suck me off,” Chris suddenly declared, reaching his hand down to his crotch and readjusting the suddenly obvious erection that was pressing against his purposefully tight pants. 

“What?” Ned asked; his heart beating faster than ever before. Had he heard that right?

“Don’t act coy,” Chris shot back. “You heard me. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Bring me another tray of doughnuts after the show and I’ll let you suck me dry,” he repeated, reaching for Ned’s limp hand and placing it directly across to his boner. “Deal?” Chris asked, knowing that there was no way Ned would ever refuse him.

Ned left Chris’ dressing room almost shaking with elation. Was this really happening? The hottest, straight hunk in the world was going to let him go down on him after the show? Surely this was just a dream? 

With the first act soon over with, Ned snuck out to the doughnut place across the street and bought the exact same tray of treats that had been delivered earlier. He stood around, pretending to wait purposefully in the corridor, having concealed the order under a pile of clothes in his small, shared changing area. 

The next thing Ned knew, he was back on stage for the curtain call. He’d started to doubt himself; to dispute reality. He was going insane. Chris hadn’t really made such an advance on him, nor made the bizarre request! He was just slowly succumbing to madness. But as they all cheered their way off the stage, Ned felt a very firm hand on his shoulder and the Hollywood superstar bringing his mouth close to his ear, whispering. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

After the buzz of the first night, the second night always felt anticlimactic, with people darting off quickly after the show ended. Ned waited until there was a slight lull in the noisy corridor, until he stood outside Chris’ dressing room holding the doughnut tray, knocking until he heard the call for him to enter.

This time, Chris was sitting. already stroking himself in his chair; legs parted and pants removed, ready for Ned to do what he had come here for. Of course he had a large penis, Ned thought to himself, watching the sexy guy stroking it like he was filming a porn scene. 

“Give them to me!” Chris demanded, having eyes only for the tray that Ned was carrying. He reached out, ripped them from him and immediately began gorging, like he had before. Then, with only a nod of his head, he ordered Ned down to his crotch.

Slipping onto his knees, Ned could hardly believe what he was about to do; something he never imagined could be done. He started slowly, determined to get it exactly right; to give Chris as much pleasure as he could. If he delivered Chris the best blow job of his life, he would. He pursed his lips and worked his tongue to perfection, hearing Chris moan with pleasure as he pushed those doughnuts into his mouth. He felt the guy’s large, sticky, icing-covered hand press onto the top of his head, pushing him deeper into his crotch. Ned obliged, willing himself not to gag as his throat opened further. Then, absolute magic. He’d done it. He’d made the Hollywood superstar climax in what sounded like the most intense orgasm imaginable. 

Ned stood, feeling proud, looking down on the hunk slouched in the chair. The man was a mess, covered in icing and sugar all around his face; his toned stomach now bloated and hard. The man seemed dazed, either from the eating, or the intense relief of having ejaculated so forcefully. He sighed multiple times and began tapping his own face as if to bring himself back into reality. “Fuck! That was good!” the man growled, before sitting up and casually feeding himself the larger fragments of doughnut that had fallen onto his chest during his rampant gorging minutes earlier.

Grinning, Ned knew that this was a tale he would be able to recount for the rest of his life: the day he sucked off Chris Peterson in his dressing room!

“What are you doing this evening?” Chris asked, finally getting to his feet.

“Um, nothing much,” Ned replied, feeling the shadow of the large man cross over him.

“You know this city, don’t you?” Chris pondered. “You’re from here, aren’t you? You can take me out.”

“Yes,” Ned answered, without evening thinking; his heart almost leaping out of his chest. “But I wouldn’t know where to take a Hollywood star like you. We’d be harrassed by journalists the whole time if I took you to the bars I usually go to.”

“Then don’t take me to the bars,” Chris shot back. “Take me back to your place and order in.”

“You… you want to come back to my apartment?” Ned spluttered, overjoyed and simultaneously embarrassed by the thought of hosting Chris Peterson in the miniscule space he rented in the city. Still, he had kept the place fairly clean… Maybe Chris just wanted another opportunity for them to be alone together again.

“Is it far from here?” Chris asked, already gathering all that he needed and slipping a few items of clothing back on. 

“Not far,” Ned replied, realising that he didn’t really have a choice either way. “We can head out through the back and be there in five minutes.”

“Good,” the man nodded, already pushing Ned towards the door. “Lead on.”

Just over an hour later, Ned was accepting the second delivery at his apartment whilst Chris lounged on his couch, gorging himself on the pizzas that had arrived five minutes earlier. The moment he went back in, Chris dropped his greasy pizza down and made to grab the bag of Chinese food, not caring that the slice landed topside up on the couch, leaking the oily residue into the material. 

“I didn’t know that you were such a foodie,” Ned sighed, hoping that Chris’ hunger wasn’t going to get in the way of them having more fun later on. He ran to grab a cloth and began attempting to get the stain out.

Chris’s kisses were passionate and arousing after all the food. Ned had seen some bizarre Hollywood diets in his time, but this binge eating of Chris’ had bloated his stomach up like nothing he had ever known. He was gentle around the man in the bedroom, wondering whether he might throw up should things get a little energetic. Hosting a Hollywood superstar, making him climax in his very own apartment, it felt like a moment Ned had been waiting for his entire life; an experience he could boast about for years to come. Had Chris wanted to stay the night, Ned would have been more than delighted, but the man seemed restless and keen to get back to the hotel he was staying in, ordering himself a ride and bidding Ned a goodnight.

Gordon didn’t seem to care when Chris didn’t show in time for their pre-show meetings, rolling in with just enough time to get into costume and get on stage. For the first time, the backstage crew began to grumble about him, knowing that they were only one week in, with another eleven long weeks to go. But just as the lead actor had seemingly lost all passion for it, so had their esteemed director; no longer bothered by the silly little mistakes that were made by the lighting department on the fifth night, nor the fact that Chris had missed his cue several times by the start of week two.

On their opening night, the show had felt like a slick, well-oiled and ambitious machine. Now things were getting sloppy and haphazard. The excellent reviews of the previous week were being replaced by curious clippings in gossip columns about Chris’ amateurish performances. Not only that, but a rogue cell phone had snapped a picture of Chris during his shirtless scene looking significantly thicker than he had seemed in the promotional shots. Ned had seen it first hand as he continued to slip into Chris’ dressing room after a performance for some fun. He’d known that the make-up department had painted on a six-pack for the last three performances. However, nothing could mask the unmistakable width of Chris as he turned to his side; a distinct paunch starting to form. All of a sudden, that one picture seemed to be everywhere and all of the press interest in the play turned directly towards Chris’ weight gain.

“There’ll probably be more people trying to get pictures of you tomorrow,” Ned warned as he snuck into Chris’ dressing room and caught the guy gorging himself on a couple of boxes of cookies that had been left in there for him.

Chris scowled and nodded for Ned to lock the door behind him. “That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he grumbled, sliding down in his chair and pulling out his hardness for Ned to suck on as he ate.

Ned assumed the position, noticing the roll of stomach fat that was beginning to encircle Chris’ waist. His fingers slipped onto it as he took Chris’ hardness in his mouth, noticing the soft and doughy nature of it, slyly ruining the ultimate Hollywood sixpack. Ned knew he was in some way enabling Chris by not walking away and failing to challenge him on his eating but when else in his life was he going to have the chance to be with a global superstar like this?

With the doughnuts gone, Chris stood up and removed the last of his clothes, ready to fuck Ned over the table at the back of the room. Ned obliged, catching the view of Chris’ softer glutes in the mirror as they began kissing; the back fat standing out so much, the skin starting to roll. “Chris…” Ned started, knowing that he could no longer stay silent. “Don’t you think you need to do something about this?” he asked, pinching the actual lovehandles that had blossomed in just over a week.

“Do you want to get fucked, or not?” Chris growled back, clearly too consumed with arousal to think of anything else. Discussions about the guy’s weight were clearly off the table. Ned, lay across his table, spread his legs and allowed the horny glutton to at last get some exercise.

Their esteemed director seemed slightly different over the following days. Unlike Chis’ stomach, which seemed to grow more prominent each day, Gordon appeared to be deflating. His large gut didn’t seem quite so extreme as he strolled about at a faster pace, going from department to department. There was a twinkle in his eye as he saw Ned and a look that suggested that he knew exactly what went on between him and Chris behind the closed doors of the dressing room.

The man had rejected calls for the shirtless scene to be altered so that Chris could cover himself with a shirt, positively laughing at all the press that surrounded the hunk’s sudden gains. “All publicity is good publicity,” he grinned as if he hoped for a boost in ticket sales from it all; not that there was any need. The show had been booked out for weeks before they’d even started rehearsals. 

News outlets began reporting that Gordon had insisted Chris diet immediately and that he had threatened to kick him out from the show should he not comply. However, none of it was true. Of all the people working on that production, the director was the only one who was not in the least bit flustered by it all, even as Chris’ management seemed determined to find a way to get him out of the play and end this constant barrage of bad publicity. 

Ned felt it all very personally, having fallen for Chris during this strange period of his life. But with so much gossip and speculation flying around, how much longer could his fling with Chris stay a secret? A public ‘outting’ was absolutely the last thing either of them needed right then.

“Eight more weeks to go!” Gordon sang, almost tauntingly at them all as Chris stepped up behind the curtain, a rounded stomach pressing out, ready for the shirtless scene. Gordon appeared to wait, listening intently for the inevitable gasps of the stunned audience as the former hunk went out on stage. Then the director would chuckle to himself and stroll happily away.

Getting in to see Chris was becoming harder and harder. A team of people seemed to surround the man the entire time he was at the theatre; men and women who had been flown over from Hollywood to kick Chris into touch. None of it seemed to be working. Even under the strict eyes of his babysitters, Chris’ stomach seemed to be expanding daily. Tensions with the director seemed to flare up as Gordon failed time and time again to renegotiate the star’s watertight contract. The looming fear that the play would end hung like a dark cloud over all of them. As Chris’s belly blossomed into a small, stout and rounded beer gut, each of them looked at each other and sighed. Would this be their last show? How much longer could this insanity continue?

Like a petulant child, Chris appeared to detest all the fussing around him. Sometimes, at night, he would appear at Ned’s apartment, having snuck out undetected from his hotel. He’d order take-out, complain bitterly about his situation and completely fail to show any self-awareness of his own part in the evolving crisis that surrounded him; even as he gorged on pizza after pizza. He’d drawn Ned in, making him feel like the only one in the world who could sympathise with him; the one sane person in his life whilst all the madness threatened to consume him. Ned had been flattered. He felt special. And even though he could see the giant ball of stomach fat growing larger and larger; even as a double chin began to spread itself under Chris’s handsome face and his tight glutes softened with each passing day, Ned still fell for him and stayed up late into the night, pleasing him in any way he could.

It was week four when everything seemed to crash around them. Ned saw the news flash up on his cell phone before anyone at the play got in contact with him to let him know. Chris had left the production, paying a hefty, multi-million dollar fee for exiting early and ending the show.

“You’re up!” Gordon sang down the phone an hour or so later. “You’re my Gentleman of Deansgate!”

“But I thought…” Ned mumbled back; his head spinning.

“One last performance!” Gordon exclaimed excitedly. “Chris’ team were quite insistent upon it as they added a nice buffer into the cheque they signed this morning to get him out of his contract.”

“Why?” Ned asked, remembering how adamant Gordon had once been that he would never allow Ned to understudy for Chris. “What does it matter to them?”

“Just be here early,” Gordon replied, immediately ending the phone call.

Ned didn’t know how to feel. The last few weeks had been the strangest of his life. On the one hand, he felt elated that he was about to have the biggest career highlight to date, seeing his name appearing in the articles about Chris’ sudden departure as the Gordon’s team sent out their official press release about the final show. However, he also knew that he was unlikely to see Chris ever again. The media had already reported that he had left New York for his home in Los Angeles. Just like that, it was all over.

Gordon positively skipped about backstage, racing between the different departments. There was no denying that he had lost a significant amount of weight in the last few weeks and the spring in his step seemed to catch everyone off-guard. Everything had to be perfect once more and the sloppiness of the last few weeks had to end immediately. Yet, despite all the demands and high standards Gordon was insisting upon, there was still a smug, sickly grin plastered all over his face.

“He’s just had a massive payout from Chris’ people,” whispered one of the lighting guys as Ned watched the man with obvious confusion etched across his face. “I was here late last night when they were all negotiating.”

“Well, I expect it must be a relief for him now all the tickets will have to be refunded for the rest of the run,” Ned nodded.

“That stuff’s all covered,” the backstage man replied, shaking his head at Ned’s misunderstanding. “I mean Gordon himself. He’s just had over five million dollars from Chris to let him go early and to ensure there’s this last performance tonight.”

“They paid Gordon personally?” Ned asked. “But that makes no sense!”

Twenty minutes later and the crowds were starting to move into the theatre, bitterly disappointed that the main attraction for attending this play had inexplicably left the production. Ned had no doubt that he wouldn’t be able to please the audience, no matter what he did that night. Ned had braced himself for Gordon’s assertive approach to managing him, yet the man had barely uttered more than a few words. Despite micromanaging everyone else, as the new lead actor, Ned felt almost as if he was going into the whole thing blind. Gordon stood behind him as the music began to rumble into life, placing his hand on Ned’s shoulder just before his cue. The role had been Gordon’s once, many, many years ago. Perhaps he felt like he knew how Ned was feeling. “Welcome to the club,” he whispered, grinning excitedly and nudging Ned onto the stage.

If Ned could have found the words to describe the feeling as he acted on stage that night, his explanation would have been akin to the accounts of out-of-body experiences. It was as if he no longer needed to recall the lines of dialogue; like they simply flowed through his body. His movements did not feel like his own; his walk and stature had altered. It was as if he embodied the character and had no control over any of it at all. In the papers the next morning, they would criticise him for mimicking Chris’ performance to the very last detail, but in Ned’s mind, the only thing he had actually done was to step out onto that stage. Everything else had been autopilot.

Unlike the final show of every other production Ned had ever been in, the mood that night was too low to celebrate afterwards. People hugged backstage and collected all their things, knowing that they would not have an opportunity to do so at any other time. Meanwhile, after all the obligatory praise, Ned headed back into the main dressing room as if his mind had drifted below a dense fog. He simply sat in his chair, staring at his reflection in the mirror. What on earth had come over him?

Half an hour later, a drunken Gordon came skipping into the room, holding a glass of champagne for himself. “You did wonderfully!” he beamed at Ned, despite the fact that Ned had already been told that Gordon hadn’t seen a moment of it; too busy celebrating backstage. “And now, no one else will perform this play for many decades to come!” he beamed. “‘The Curse of Deansgate’ has struck again! An incomplete run, just like every other time it’s been attempted. No financial backers will go near it again,” he laughed, as if this had all been such a vast, cunning plan from the very beginning.

“Everything worked out pretty well for you, though,” Ned managed to utter, catching the scent of something sweet down the corridor and suddenly feeling remarkably hungry. 

“Even better than I expected,” Gordon nodded emphatically, running his hand down his surprisingly deflated gut. “But the curse has never been about financial ruin, has it?” he laughed. “The curse has always been something much more insidious. I taught that arrogant fuck a lesson and got a very decent payout at the same time.” He looked at his reflection in the mirror, seeming pleased with what he saw. “It’s been a very successful few weeks!”

“You never really did forgive Chris, did you?” Ned asked, feeling the strangest sense of familiarity with Gordon. The man’s last words to him before he had gone on stage had been to welcome him to the Deansgate ‘club’ and now that Ned was there, he felt as if he could ask Gordon anything and be told the exact truth.

Goron closed the door that he had been propping open with his large body and stepped inside so that he could not be overheard. “Of course not,” he laughed. “And you sealed your fate the moment you started sucking him off back here after each performance.” He looked down at Ned disapprovingly. “You’re a serious actor. You should have known better than that!” he scolded him. “Perhaps I should have fired you then and saved you from all this.”

Ned dropped his head. Gordon was certainly right there.

“I hadn’t ever planned to let you take the lead. But when Chris Peterson’s management figured things out, the opportunity to throw you under the bus was simply too easy.” He looked down at Ned with triumph dancing in his eyes. “Lay down with dogs and you get fleas.”

“What did they figure out?” Ned asked, having the strangest feeling that the way his mind was so clouded at that moment was all related to something much larger.

“Here,” Gordon grunted, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “I’ve been told to give you this.”

An envelope was thrown into Ned’s lap without Gordon even making an effort to step forwards. Ned opened it up and found a plane ticket to Los Angeles, departing at 2.05am. 

“Lover Boy wants to see you!” Gordon explained, holding back a snarl.

Silently, Ned felt elated. From the moment he’d read that Chris had left New York, he had believed that their fling was over. Now he was realising that he hadn’t been forgotten after all. “Well, I guess there’s no point in sticking around here these next few days, anyway” he sighed, looking around the dressing room he would have to vacat shortly.

“No, I quite agree,” Gordon smirked. “I’ll message him to let him know that you’re on your way.” He placed his hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Now that you’re the very latest Gentleman of Deansgate instead, I have a feeling that you’re about to meet the real Chris Peterson at long last…”

Ned felt eyes on him the entire time as he made his way to the airport and flew across the country, not really knowing what was going to happen when he finally arrived. In the arrivals lounge, a driver was waiting, holding up a banner with his name written across it. Ned’s only backpack was taken off his shoulders as he made his way to the expensive car that was to carry him away. 

They pulled up forty minutes later at the most obscene residence, overlooking the Hollywood hills. The whole residence seemed llavish beyond words. Unlike the chill of a New York winter, the sun shone gently on Ned’s face and he sighed in appreciation at his own good fortune.

A member of Chris’ extensive team came straight out to greet him, ushering him inside almost as if he was expecting a team of photographers to ambush them from the gates . Everywhere was pristine and surprisingly immaculate, from the large marble pillars to the extensive windows at the back of the property, overlooking an enormous swimming pool and the incredible view across the valley.

Ned sat down at the large breakfast bar in the kitchen, where pastries and snacks filled several plates for the members of Chris’ entourage. He was told to help himself whilst the man left the room to let Chris know that he had arrived. Whilst Ned ate, he heard the splash of someone emerging from the pool and suddenly saw the large, looming shape of Chris Peterson marching across the terrace towards the expansive kitchen. Dressed in only his swim shorts with a towel lazily draped over his shoulders, Chris moved with an assertive speed that Ned had not seen from him before; although, his fat stomach popped out in front of him, firm and rounded under his large pecs.

“Excellent!” Chris cheered, spotting Ned and striding straight over to place his hands on his secret lover’s shoulders as he ate. Chris’ strong fingers massaged Ned’s shoulders, not offering any other sign of affection, most likely because his team were all so close by. “Did anyone see him arriving?” Chris asked someone behind them.

“No, sir. It was all very fast and discreet,” replied a deep masculine voice.

“Good,” Chris replied, his hands massaging more softly now and leaning in to whisper into Ned’s ear. “I bet you’re hungry after all that travelling.”

Chris suddenly stood bolt upright and marched about once more, heading to the refrigerator and pulling out as many things as he could.

“Sir, sir…” counselled a woman from his staff. “You don’t need to do that. We’ve got this covered. You can head back to the pool. We’ll look after Ned.”

Chris looked across at Ned, as if calculating whether he could trust his entourage to do what they were promising. “Fine,” he spat, turning around and marching straight out, clearly in a mood about something. “But I need results. I need all of this mess sorting out now!”

Coming down from the high of his great performance the night before was almost impossible. Ned had hardly slept at all on the plane and he had the remarkable feeling of being almost drunk. Time seemed like nothing at all as Chris’ friendly team fussed around him. He was led out onto the terrace to watch Chris’ gruelling swimming training with his coach. Every now and then, the unnecessarily angry actor would call out to his team any time he looked up and saw that Ned wasn’t being looked after with something to eat or drink.

“You’ve got one fucking job!” he yelled from the pool, making them all rush about to serve Ned something else.

Ned was half asleep when he heard Chris’ voice mumbling around him. “Fucking wake him up then!” he ordered one of his team, before huffing and coming over himself. “Ned… Neddy…” he called out in a voice that was barely soothing. “It’s dinner time, buddy!”

Ned opened his eyes.

“He’s awake,” Chris nodded to two guys, who promptly lifted the back of Ned’s deckchair up so that he was sitting upright. “It’s time to eat now, buddy,” Chris explained to Ned, like he was a toddler, using the kindest voice he had heard from him all day. “Mmmm! Look at all this!” he cooed, as a perfect height table was rolled underneath the deck chair so that a table sat just in front of Ned, loaded with different items.

Overcome with hunger, Ned set to work without questioning any of it. Once food was in front of him, nothing else seemed to matter.

“Good. This is good,” Chris nodded again at his team, as he looked back and forth between them and Ned. “He seems to like this the best,” he pointed at one of the dishes, as if that was a cue for them to get more. 

Faced with so much food, Ned found it hard to concentrate. He was given large, chocolate flavoured drinks that were thick and almost difficult to swallow, however Chris seemed to nod his head in approval each time Ned managed to get one down.

Ned wished that everyone else would disappear. He felt so uncontrollably horny for Chris, yet there were always people around, making it impossible for them to come together. Something about the food seemed almost… erotic. He’d never felt this way before, nor eaten so much in only a few short hours; although he wasn’t quite sure how much that was.

As night time approached, Chris entered Ned’s bedroom carrying a large tray of doughnuts. “A little treat before bed!” he winked charmingly, throwing them down on the mattress.

Ned felt his body lunge for them and he began stuffing the first one into his mouth. Chris hopped on beside him, throwing his arm over Ned’s shoulders like they were old friends, rather than lovers.

“That fucking play, huh?” he grumbled to Ned as the guy ate. “Gordon did us both dirty with that one… and I had no fucking idea!” he laughed, like he had had some lucky escape. “That’s why it’s always important to have people looking out for you behind the scenes. That could have been the end of my whole career!”

Chris noticed a large piece of Ned’s third doughnut break off as the houseguest ate a little too fast. Chris picked it up, not caring about the sticky icing that had spread across the sheets, but keen that Ned should get it down him. 

“I’m afraid I’m not going to try and stop you eating, like you did with me.” He looked down at his own, stout gut and sighed. “Look at all this!” he complained, grabbing a large wedge of it. “How the hell did you ever let me fuck you, looking like this? It’s disgusting!”

“You’re beautiful,” Ned mumbled through a mouthful of food, spitting a little out.

Chris tutted and exhaled in frustration. “You’re wasting it!” he growled in annoyance. Getting more fed up when Ned tried to apologise and did the same thing again. “Look, just sit back a bit more and let me take care of this,” he insisted, handing Ned yet another doughnut and feeling his hand into the eager guy’s crotch, grabbing at the hardness, but not stroking until Ned started to eat. 

Ned had never known bliss like it: the tastes on his tongue and the pleasure down below. Each time he swallowed and opened his mouth to moan, in went a fresh doughnut. There were multiple points when he felt like he could have climaxed, yet Chris seemed to hold him back until the very last moment. He came, feeling like a strong jet had erupted from his groin, opening his eyes moments later to see Chris dropping the emptied doughnut tray onto the floor and wiping his hands on the bed sheets. “Was that nice?” he asked, returning to that slightly patronising tone.

Ned nodded, feeling utterly spent.

“Good,” Chris smiled. “Would you like the same again tomorrow?” Chris asked, like he was trying to bargain something out of Ned. So when Ned nodded, stuffed full of food and bloated, the man couldn’t help but chuckle, heading back to his own master suite.

Chris had lost weight. With all his training and determination, Ned had never seen a belly shrink so quickly. Yet, over the coming days, he felt an onslaught of fat begin to slide onto his own stomach, inflating it with softness in an unnaturally speedy manner. Sometimes he would wake from an afternoon nap to find a measuring tape had been wrapped around his arm or thigh, by a member of Chris’ staff; no one seeming in the least bit surprised at the sudden transformation, despite monitoring it closely.

Ned knew he should be paying more attention to his body. But food was everywhere and his brain felt like it was in such a fog. Dressed only in a pair of swim shorts, he couldn’t detect a stretching in his clothes, nor remember where he had even put his cell phone to communicate with the rest of the world outside of Chris’ incredible house. Nothing he seemed to do from that point on appeared to annoy Chris, with the man’s face lighting up each time he saw a shirtless Ned lazily trotting towards the breakfast bar to eat. The other staff were relaxing too, with fewer of them there in the day now. The ‘crisis mode’ of the previous week was now over. 

Chris lifted his arm and still felt a slight stubborn clinging of fat around his love handles. “Do you want some ice cream?” he asked Ned, as if this would somehow remedy the problem. Without waiting for an answer, he headed over to the freezer to fetch it and dumped the complete tub in front of Ned, along with a large spoon. 

Back Chris went to the mirror, turning and flexing, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Ned.

“It’s almost time for you to go home soon,” he smiled. “A couple more days and things should have worked themselves out.”

“I don’t think I want to go home,” Ned replied, feeling his heart sink.

Chris laughed and came over to pat his chubby friend on his back. “I know. I know,” he smiled. “But what am I supposed to do with you once I’m back to my old shape?” He looked down at Ned’s shirtless body and seemed to grimace at the rolls of fresh blubber along his side. “You’ll just be getting more and more out of shape and I don’t really want that hanging around outside by the pool.” He ruffled Ned’s hair playfully. “I’m sure you can understand that,” he laughed, pulling a fresh bottle of water out from the refrigerator and sliding a bowl of potato chips closer to Ned instead. Then, off he went onto the terrace, diving into his pool once more.

Ned didn’t see Chris after that. The guy had disappeared later that afternoon after a lucrative advertising deal had emerged. He read later on that Chris had claimed his appearance in the play had been caused by some form of abdominal distension, unrelated to weight gain. Several so-called ‘experts’ disputed that, but when the hunk reappeared in beach shots looking just as fit as ever only a few days later, all other explanations seemed to be implausible.

No such rapid recovery came for Ned, however. Once home, his ravenous appetite seemed to consume him and he was dropped by his agent only six months later after piling on a ridiculous amount of weight in that period. And, although he could never prove it, Ned always had a suspicion that Chris Peterson’s team had been at least partly behind his declining career; desperately wanting to reduce his influence after everything that had happened with their golden boy.

Ned’s handsome face seemed to bloat and his chiselled jawline was engulfed and framed by an unflattering amount of neck fat. His pecs drooped within a month and his stomach fat swelled into a giant ball of surprisingly squishy blubber. Pants were hard to come by, given how wide his rear had become after the first year. Ned found that he had to detach himself from his old life and form something new; taking inspiration from the only other man he had known to have gone through the same experience….

It was thirty years later when Ned sat in the same old theatre where they had performed ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ all those years ago. It had taken him decades to finance a new run and convince his investors. But, at long last, the show was ready to audition the lead roles. 

Years ago, after Ned had had time to think and understand it all, unemployed and gaining pounds and pounds of lard by the day, he wrote it all down; every last detail of that play he would one day hope to direct: the lighting, the sound, the timings, the instruments. He didn’t know which parts were important to whatever power fuelled the curse that he had lived with for so long; transforming him into the gluttonous man he had been all these years. Everything had to be perfect.

“I’m very grateful to you for coming all the way over here to audition,” Ned smiled at the handsome, young hopeful standing on the stage: the image of his beautiful father. 

“I’m very flattered that you wanted me,” the athletic twenty-seven year old replied. “I believe you were the understudy for my father when he performed here? It was his only Broadway appearance.”

“Yes, yes,” Ned nodded. “That seems like a lifetime ago!” he lied. “And I’m sure your father would be very proud to see you standing there now, ready to fill his shoes,” he smiled, pretending to be sorry that Chris Peterson’s drug-fuelled car crash had claimed his life five years earlier.

The audition went well; not that Ned had ever seriously considered anyone else for the role. Revenge could come in many forms, but few as sweet as this poor boy.

“I think this show is going to be a huge success!” Ned grinned, eyeing his new lead actor’s cute butt as he skipped out of the theatre having just signed a watertight contract. “I can’t wait to get started!”

[demonpiratehuntress]

Masterlist

I have only made one change to my rules list, which is that I will write for Dracule Mihawk. The rules can be found here.

OPLA:

hurt for long (Zoro x F!Reader)

Straw Hats react to your period

period pain (Zoro x F!Reader)

jelly (Zoro x F!Reader)

hard (Zoro x F!Reader)

the best gift is you (Zoro x F!Reader)

boyfriend (Sanji x F!Reader) *

dreams (Zoro x F!Reader)

love me again (Sanji x F!Reader)

a much-needed break (Sanji x F!Reader)

ANIME:

Straw Hats realise they like you & confess

laugh til you cry (Ace x F!Reader)

that's not for you to decide (Zoro x F!Reader) *

Straw Hats + Ace with injury prone reader

stupid (Ace x F!Reader)

fictional boys (Monster trio + Ace, Kaku)

lunch break (Kaku x F!Reader)

better (Ace x F!Reader)

marry me (Ace x F!Reader)

gentleman (Zoro x F!Reader)

third time's a charm (Kaku x F!Reader)

worth the wait (Law x F!Reader)

the only one (Ace x F!Reader)

mistletoe (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

can we...cuddle? (Law x F!Reader)

Ace + (Name) day (Ace x F!Reader)

vampire shenanigans (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

baby (Name)! (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

touch (Ace x F!Reader)

baby (Name)! (Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Brook, Chopper)

steal the show (Law x F!Reader)

back off (Ace x F!Reader)

flirt (Buggy x F!Reader)

birthday girl (Kaku x F!Reader)

plushie (Straw Hats + Law)

patience with the Straw Hats

enough is enough (Ace x F!Reader)

someone's gotta do it (Ace x F!Reader)

stubborn (Ace x F!Reader)

baby OP men! (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

every time we touch (Ace, Law, Zoro, Sabo)

two peas in a pod (Law x F!Reader)

just call me, idiot (Ace x Mermaid!Reader)

manicure (Straw Hats)

it runs in the family (Zoro x F!Reader)

* - can apply to both OPLA and Anime

I'm so sorry this isn't a new post! I am working on OPLA!Sanji and OPLA!Zoro fics so please just bear with me, I've been quite busy and I was just recently in hospital!

[mingi-s-dimples]

Embers of Love - Yungi

KINKTOBER DAY 7 - REQ. BY @crazylittlebisexual

~"Breeding kink with Dragon hybrid Yunho and Dragon hybrid Mingi with fem reader. Plot: Reader has been having major baby fever but is too shy to tell the boys. Eventually it comes up during a conversation and the boys agree immediately. I would also like to push the monster cock Yungi agenda. *Blushes like a whore* ehem anyways thank you love you have an amazing day. 🫶🫶"

pairing: dragon hybrid!yungi x fem human!reader

genre: 18+, pregnancy trope, filth

summary: you were on the phone with your best friend and got a major baby fever from her words.. and you decided to do something about it.

wc: 2.5k

warnings: pregnancy trope, dragon hybrid x human, harsh dom!yunho, monster cocks!yungi (obvi), breeding kink, double penetration (same hole), unprotected (wrap up irl!), impregnation, lots of cum, manhandling, slight pregnancy info in the start (the diaolgue between reader & her friend + at the end telling them the result after a period of time - NOTHING TOO WILD), completely consensual, unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: I actually had fun writing this? I said I'd never write pregnancy tropes, but this one felt a little bit easier to write than expected. I guess it's because it was a general pregnancy trope and not some detailed shit like feeling the kicks/fucking while pregnant etc. Hope you like it lovie!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members.

The late afternoon sun bathed the living room in a golden glow, filtering through the gauzy curtains as you lay sprawled across the couch, phone pressed to your ear. You were half-listening to your best friend’s excited voice on the other end of the line, but your mind kept wandering to the soft lull of her words.

“…and when he kicked for the first time? Oh my god, it was the most magical feeling. Like, you can’t really describe it, you know?” she gushed, her voice tinged with the kind of joy that only motherhood could bring.

You shifted slightly, curling your legs underneath as you stared at the ceiling, a strange warmth spreading through your chest. “That sounds… really amazing,” you replied, voice quieter than usual.

“It is,” she continued, “I never knew I could feel so much love for someone I haven’t even met yet. It’s just… everything about pregnancy is incredible, from the cravings to feeling them grow inside you. It changes you.”

You could hear her smile through the phone, the pure, unfiltered happiness that came with preparing for a new life. Your heart squeezed, a longing you hadn’t recognized before slowly unfurling inside. It was strange—until this moment, the thought of pregnancy, of having a baby, had never really crossed your mind. You had always been content with where you were, happy with Yunho and Mingi. The three of you had been together for three years, and while it was unconventional, it was yours.

The two of them, dragon-human hybrids with a connection that ran deeper than anything you'd ever experienced, had come into your life so naturally. Being with them was effortless. It had never felt wrong to be with both of them at the same time; instead, it was like they each filled a different part of your heart, a perfect balance that made the relationship stronger. They were your home, comfort, everything. But babies? That had never been a conversation you'd had. Until now, the idea hadn’t even occurred to you.

But listening to your friend talk, describing the tender moments of her pregnancy, something stirred inside you. A flicker of longing that you couldn’t quite ignore. Was it possible that you wanted this, too? The thought sent a ripple of warmth through your body, but at the same time, a wave of uncertainty. How could you even bring this up with Yunho and Mingi?

“I’m so happy for you,” you said after a long pause, trying to keep your voice steady. “It sounds incredible.”

“Thanks,” she replied, a soft chuckle following. “I know it’s not for everyone, but if you ever get that feeling, you’ll know. There’s nothing quite like it.”

You wrapped up the conversation not long after that, and you hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment as if it held the answer to the sudden whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your head. Babies. Pregnancy. Parenthood. You sat there for a long time, thinking about what it might be like, to hold a baby of your own, to create a life with the two men you loved more than anything.

But the thought of bringing it up to them—well, that was something else entirely. For all the intimacy and closeness you shared, this felt like a huge leap, one you weren’t sure how to make. It wasn’t like you were afraid of their reaction; You knew Yunho and Mingi would listen to anything you had to say. But would they want the same thing? Was this something they had ever considered?

---

Later that evening, the familiar creak of the front door announced Yunho and Mingi’s return. They came in together, as they often did, filling the house with their presence. Yunho, tall and warm, immediately made his way over to where you sat, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Missed you," he murmured, his voice a comforting rumble.

Mingi followed close behind, his grin wide and his golden eyes shimmering with that playful spark that never seemed to fade. "We were thinking of grabbing dinner soon. Want to join us?"

You smiled at both of them, the usual warmth spreading through you as you watched them move around the room with their usual ease. They were so different in many ways—Yunho, calm and steady like the earth, while Mingi had an energy that was as bright and unpredictable as fire. Yet together, they balanced perfectly. And you loved them both for it.

"Yeah, that sounds good," you said, trying to push aside the nervous flutter in the chest. It wasn’t the right time to bring up the thoughts swirling in your head—not yet.

You went out for dinner, the three of you slipping into the usual rhythm of conversation and teasing. But your mind kept drifting, the idea of starting a family with them nagging at the back of your thoughts. you kept imagining it—the three of you welcoming a baby into your lives, raising them together. The more you thought about it, the more the idea settled into something that felt… right.

By the time you got back home, you still hadn’t said anything, too nervous to bring it up out of the blue. But it wasn’t long before the topic came up anyway.

You were lounging on the couch, Mingi stretched out with his head on your lap while Yunho sat besides, one arm draped comfortably around your shoulders. It was peaceful, like so many other nights, but something about this moment felt different. Your mind was still buzzing with thoughts of family, of the future, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“Have you guys ever thought about… kids?”

The room went silent for a moment. You felt Mingi shift slightly, lifting his head to look up at you, and Yunho’s arm tensed just a little around your shoulders. You instantly regretted bringing it up, heart pounding in your chest as you braced yourself for their reaction.

Mingi sat up fully, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “Why do you ask?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammered, feeling suddenly shy. “I was talking to my friend earlier, and she was going on about her pregnancy, and it just got me thinking, I guess. I mean, we’ve never really talked about it, and I wasn’t sure if it was something you guys would even want, but… yeah.”

Another beat of silence followed, and then, to your surprise, Yunho spoke first.

“Actually,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “I’ve thought about it before. I just didn’t want to bring it up if you weren’t ready.”

Mingi nodded in agreement, his lips curving into a small smile. “Same here. I didn’t want to push anything, but… I’ve always liked the idea of having a family with you.”

You blinked, staring at both of them in disbelief. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Yunho replied, his hand moving to gently squeeze mine. “We love you. And the thought of raising a child together… it sounds perfect.”

Mingi leaned in closer, his eyes soft and filled with warmth. “If that’s what you want, then we’re all in.”

A rush of emotion hit you, and yoi couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The thought of starting a family with them, of creating something so precious together, suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want that,” you whispered, heart swelling with love as you looked at them. “I want that with you guys.”

They both smiled, and in that moment, everything felt right. You had been together for three years, and now, the idea of taking the next step—of starting a family—felt like the most beautiful possibility.

---

Something shifted in the atmosphere. It was almost like it got heavier, darker. Yunho looked at Mingi, giving him an understanding nod.

Yunho’s eyes darken slightly, the intensity of the conversation sparking something deeper inside him. His hand moved to your waist, his touch slow and deliberate. He leans closer, his breath warm against your neck as he speaks, his voice low and almost primal. After all, he was a dragon hybrid. He was totally different while turned on.

Yunho started talking, "You know... if this is what you want, maybe this is the perfect moment to do it. Right now."

His words send a wave of heat through you, heart pounding even harder. There’s an undeniable tension in the air now, thick and electric, as his hand lingers on your waist, pulling you a little closer.

Swallowing hard, your voice trembling slightly "Yunho…?"

Yunho, smirking, his eyes full of desire as he leans in even closer. "I’m serious. If this is what you’ve been dreaming about, maybe we shouldn’t wait any longer."

Mingi’s gaze grows more intense as he moves in on your other side, his hand sliding up your arm, his touch both comforting and filled with the same heated anticipation. His lips brush lightly against your ear as he speaks.

He whispered softly, "We’re ready whenever you are. You just say the word."

Your breath catches, caught between their intense stares and their soft touches, the air around them thick with desire. It’s as if the world outside fades away, and in this moment, all that matters is the three of you. Heart racing, the weight of their words sinking in as you realized they’re offering you everything you've ever wanted.

Softly, barely above a whisper, "I... I think I’m ready." you said.

Yunho’s lips curl into a grin as he pulls you even closer, his body pressing gently against yours, the heat between you undeniable now. Mingi’s hand slides to the small of your backk, his touch sending a shiver through you as he leans in, his lips just barely grazing yoi neck.

Yunho's voice, husky, filled with need, "Then let’s make this moment count." to which he hovered his hand over your clothes, softly taking them out. He was taking his time, which was unlike him. He was usually very rough when turned on. Tho, as soon as he saw your pink nipples harden at his touch, all the patience that was left in him dissipated.

"You look so damn good, baby." he whispered.

"And you look so... tasty." he was followed by Mingi.

"I love you, both of you, so much..." you lovely said.

"We love you too, y/n.. Now, turn around, on your fours" Yunho said.

The utmost difference between the two was that when you were fucking with them, they were the complete opposite of how they usually are. The calm one, Yunho, would become a menace and destroy you, while Mingi, the hyper one, would be all in for your pleasure. You absolutely loved their different dynamics.

You turned around as told and lifted your ass up, just how you knew they liked it. You always felt so little and vulnerable in their eyes, being eye fucked by both. Their gazes hovered over your body, inspecting every inch with lust and need in their eyes.

---

Mingi's hand went for your breasts, rubbing and pinching your nipples softly. Your back arched at his touch, but soon being restricted by Yunho's huge hands. His hands travelled around on your body and went for your ass, squeezing it. He then spread out your folds with two of his fingers. Now, you had to be honest to yourself. They were... huge. Yunho's two or three fingers were never enough to prep you beforehand but.. you absolutely loved seeing them struggle to fuck you every time, working their way in.

Today. Yunho was not even slightly patient and didn't bother fingering you for too long. The thought of finally feeling you without a condom must've made him go insane, you thought. He spread your legs out and pushed himself in, barely halfway. He forced the note, slowly thrusting his way in. It hurt so damn much but oh god... how good they fucked you.

As Yunho was wildy fucking you, his eyes glistening red with lust - he was a dragon hybrid after all - Mingi was rapidly stroking his length, looking at the two of you.

"Now now now.. this is my idea, baby." Yunho started. "We'll both impregnate you.. how? I don't know yet, but the thought makes me go feral" he purred ad bit your shoulder, anticipating his high coming closer.

Mingi was close too, turned on only by the sight he had in front of him.

"Come here" the older one said and showed Mingi where, and it was exactly betweem your thighs. He flipped you over to make you watch them.

"Spread yourself out" Mingi said, signaling you with his brows.

You did as told and slowly spread your folds out, your cunt on full display in front of them.

"Beautiful" both whispered.

"Mingi, lift her up and sit on the couch." Yunho said with a strict tone.

"On it" and he did as told, sitting you in his lap and feeling his gigantic cock straining against your back. Yunho slowly lifted your legs up, putting them around his waist. You were now basically pressed between the two men.

Yunho did exactly what you thought he'd do and started fucking you again, even more wildly. He raised his brow at Mingi who was waiting for a sign, amd he took it. He guided the tip of his cock to your hole from under you and slowly pushed himself in. As always, only the tip fit in if one of them was inches deep inside you. Yunho pulled out halfway, basically making way for Mingi. Both their tips now fit in your cunt, barely fitting at least w inches inside, but it actually didn't matter. Your hands instinctively touched the boys' dicks, pumping them in any way you could from that position you were in. Both men kinda pushed the limits and thrusted in at the same time, a loud moan coming out of your slowly rising chest. It hurt so damn bad, tears formed in your eyes.

They never planned on stopping tho. As soon as they were satisfied with the touched depth, they started fucking you rapidly, cocks rubbing against each other, even more friction driving them insane.

"We're so close, our love" Mingi purred and soft whines left his chest as he felt you clenching around him, Yunho doing the same. You kind of basically milked them off, both boys coming right down your hole at the same time. They fucked you through their orgasm, overstimulating and overwhelming you. You also came down from your high, head dizzy from all the motion.

"This was.. damn hot" Mingi affirmed.

"Agreed." you faintly said.

"Everything good, baby? You look tired." Yunho said, back to his caring self.

"Huh, seriously? " you giggled along with your boyfriends.

You continued, "Thank you.. my loves" and gave each a soft kiss, them reciprocating it.

----

"Fast forward 4 weeks"

"MINGI! YUNHO! LOOK!" you happily ran from the bathroom. You were holding a pregnancy test.

"Congrats, our love." they excitedly said and embraced you in the warmest hug, air filled with anticipation of what the future held for you, starting with this moment.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwaluv @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117

[cherrrydragon]

➤ sweet

← back to main masterlist

read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ Peter Parker is sweet. The kind of sweet you can't get enough of. It kind of ruins your life. One day, during lunch, it’s the same as any other. You three are sitting together, not really eating your food, too focused on talking. Then, Peter speaks up, and it kind of throws off your whole existence. “Did Liz get a new top?” His face is resting on his hand as he stares at the girl. You’ve always thought Liz was pretty, and what makes that even more unfair is that she’s nice. She helped you find your way to your class on time, and you have a bad habit of being willing to die for people once they show you even the smallest amount of kindness. pairing: tom!peter parker x fem!reader warnings: just reader having to watch the person she loves not love her. so basically all of us with our fav fictional characters tags/notes: MAJOR pining on reader's side, (not actually) unrequited love, 7k of this is just straight yap my bad, happy ending! wc: 8.5k

Peter Parker is a sweet boy.

He always has been. Even when people shunned him for no reason, he never shed that kind demeanor. He has remained unwaveringly gentle and compassionate.

Your first interaction with him is simply asking him for a pencil. You’ve just rushed into class, barely making it before the bell rang. As you fumble through your bag, you realize you forgot to pack a pencil. Hesitantly, you turn to the boy sitting next to you.

"Hey, uh, do you have an extra pencil I could borrow?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

Peter looks up from his notebook, his eyes meeting yours with a friendly, albeit slightly surprised, expression. He quickly reaches into his bag and hands you a pencil.

“Uh, yeah. here,” he smiled unsurely, handing you a pencil.

“Thanks,” you smile. You notice how he keeps his gaze on you for a moment before turning away.

The rest of the class goes by smoothly, thanks to Peter's pencil. As the teacher drones on, you can't help but sneak glances at Peter, noticing his focused expression as he takes notes diligently. There's something about him that draws you in—a quiet determination mixed with a genuine kindness.

When the bell rings, you suck in a breath and turn to him. “Hey,” you start, extending your hand holding his pencil. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Peter takes the pencil, his fingers brushing against yours. “Uh, yeah. Yeah! No problem.” You think the way he stumbles over words is pretty cute.

Time to be bold. Go for it, [Name]! “Can I sit with you at lunch?”

Peter's eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by your request. He hesitates for a moment, then nods with a shy smile. “I just, I don’t really sit with anyone and you seem nice so–”

“Yes,” he blurts out, wide-eyed. “That’s cool.”

You feel a mix of relief and excitement. “Okay, see you then?”

He nods, a little late. You smile and walk off to your next class, feeling buzzy. You really are looking forward to knowing Peter.

You didn’t really notice him before. He was always in the background, never too far but never too close. He was just a boy you didn’t know, but knew of. But you saw, saw how he was always there, saw how he held the door open for others, saw how he kept his head down and never bothered anyone.

As you anticipate lunch, you imagine conversations, shared laughs, and maybe even a little bit of awkwardness, but in the best way possible. The anticipation grew with each passing period.

Woah, maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. He might think you’re, like, weird. You really hope he doesn’t.

As lunch finally approaches, you gather your things and head to the cafeteria, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You scan the room, looking for Peter, and spot him sitting not alone at a table near the window. There’s a boy next to him. His friend probably (who else would it be?). Taking a deep breath, you make your way over.

"Hey, Peter," you greet with a smile as you reach his table.

Peter looks up from his tray, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. "Hey," he responds, a bit more confidently than before.

You turn your attention over to his friend, who is looking at Peter, a bit surprised. “Hello.”

“Hey,” he greets you, discreetly elbowing Peter. “I’m Ned.”

“[Name],” you say.

“Why are you sitting here?” he asks bluntly. You blink at the abruptness of it as Peter hisses, “Ned!”

“Uh,” you stutter, suddenly feeling out of place. “I can go if you want–”

“No!” yelps Peter. “He’s just being stupid. What he means is that, well, we don’t really have any friends. But we’d–” he spares a subtle glare at Ned, “–like to be yours. If that’s what you want.” 

His eyes bore into yours earnestly. “Please stay.”

You pause for a moment, processing Peter's earnest plea. Ned looks a bit sheepish now, realizing his bluntness may have come off the wrong way. You glance between them and smile, feeling your nerves ease a bit.

The three of you start chatting, and you quickly find yourself laughing at their silly and nerdy jokes. You learn Peter is really into science and chemistry.

“You know Peter has an internship at Stark Industries?” says Ned, leaning in.

Peter stares at Ned hard. “Oh, really?” you hum.

Peter quickly tries to downplay it, waving his hand dismissively. "It's not a big deal, really. Just a lot of organizing and data entry," he says, clearly trying to stay humble.

You shrug. “I think it’s cool.” You do, you’re impressed.

A hint of a smile crawls on Peter’s face.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, you feel a pang of disappointment. But Peter looks at you with a hopeful expression. "Um, do you want to sit with us again tomorrow?"

You stare at him earnestly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nods, more so to himself. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

From then on, you become a part of their group, officially Peter’s friend. You learn that Peter is not just smart, but also incredibly kind-hearted. He always goes out of his way to help others, even if it means sacrificing his own time. The bond between you strengthens, and soon you're sharing inside jokes and stories about your classes.

You somehow manage to land yourself a spot on the Academic Decathlon (no, not because Peter’s on the team). But, to be honest, you wouldn’t have tried if not for him. You’ve never considered yourself all that smart, you don’t really try that hard in school. Peter says you’re ‘naturally smart.’ You never gave it much thought, but a compliment from him makes you happy.

“You got this,” Peter assures you before every practice.

One day, during lunch, it’s the same as any other. You three are sitting together, not really eating your food, too focused on talking. Then, Peter speaks up, and it kind of throws off your whole existence.

“Did Liz get a new top?” His face is resting on his hand as he stares at the girl. You’ve always thought Liz was pretty, and what makes that even more unfair is that she’s nice. She helped you find your way to your class on time, and you have a bad habit of being willing to die for people once they show you even the smallest amount of kindness.

“No. We’ve seen that before, but never with that skirt,” replies Ned.

Liz waves at a couple of girls that greet her. You think her voice is pretty.

“We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy though,” notes Peter, still looking at her.

“Too late,” comes a voice at the end of the table. A girl, unbothered and doing her own thing. Oh, that’s MJ. “You guys are losers,” she says, unapologetic. “Except for [Name]. Hi, [Name].”

You wave at her. “Hi, MJ.”

Peter raises his hand in confusion, looking at you for answers. You shrug, not having any. That’s just how MJ is.

“Well, then why do you sit with us?” asks Ned.

MJ flicks her hair out of her face. “Because I don’t have any friends.”

And ain’t that the truth.

“Let’s move to the next question,” hums Liz, flicking through index cards. “What is the heaviest naturally-occurring element?”

You’re not really paying much attention to practice, even though you really should be. You’re too busy staring at Peter.

“Peter, it’s nationals,” you hear. “Is there now way you could take one weekend off?”

Wait, Peter’s not going to nationals?

“I can’t go to Washington. If Mr. Stark needs me, I have to make sure I’m here.” Well, you do like a man who has his priorities straight.

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark,” says Flash, doing absolutely jack shit across the room. His voice grates your ears.

“Wait, what’s happening?”

“Peter’s not going to Washington.”

“No, no, no, no.” Felt that.

“Really? Right before Nationals?” asks Liz, wincing at him disapprovingly.

“He already quit marching band and robotics lab,” hums MJ, reading her book. Your fellow members turn to look at her. You know that, but why does she? “I’m not obsessed with him. Just very observant.” Well, you are obsessed with him. Just a little. A healthy amount.

Liz says something to Flash, and at the mention of him you automatically zone him out. You spend the time staring at Peter, who briefly glances at you before looking behind him at the ticking clock.

The rest of the day he’s tapping his fingers against the desk and moving his leg up and down. You barely manage to catch him at the door before he runs off. Peter looks at you, momentarily startled as you catch up to him. He gives you a quick smile, though you can tell his mind is elsewhere.

“Peter,” you say, frowning slightly. “Why aren’t you coming?”

He shrugs, trying to appear casual. “You know already, [Name]. The internship is really important. I gotta be ready at any time.”

“Tony Stark can’t spare you one day?” You raise a brow at him. “I think that goes against some kind of labor law.”

Peter furrows his brows, taken aback. “No, it’s not like that,” he defends quickly, shifting uncomfortably. “Mr. Stark… relies on me. I don’t wanna let him down.”

You give him a sympathetic look. “You’re really smart, Peter. There’s no way that’s possible.”

His gaze softens, smiling secretly to himself. You lightly punch his shoulder, and he gives you a mock offended look. “You’re the whole reason I even joined, and now you’re bailing on the most important day? Fake friends, I swear.” You’re mostly joking, it’s not that big of a deal. But you still would’ve liked him to be there with you.

He chuckles softly, rubbing the spots you hit him (dramatic, you barely touched him). “You’re smart, [Name]. You don’t need me.”

Yeah, you don’t need him, but you want him.

He grabs your hand and squeezes it tightly, briefly, before turning and walking away. “I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

Your heart skips a beat, at both his gesture and his words. “Okay,” you say softly, knowing he’s already gone.

“Hi. I’m Captain America. Whether you’re in the classroom or on the battlefield…”

You wonder how they convinced this guy to stand in front of a camera and yap to a bunch of high schoolers who just simply don’t care. Peter and Ned are mumbling about something, too hushed for you to hear.

“Isn’t he like a war criminal, now?” you mutter. Peter leans in to you to hear better.

He chuckles softly, breath tickling your ear. His proximity sends a warm shiver down your spine. “Sucks, he’s kind of cute.”

Peter chokes, looking at you in surprise. “In, like, a celebrity crush kind of way,” you shrug.

Peter’s face flushes a soft pink, and he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Yeah, um, I guess? I didn’t think you’d like older guys…?” He trails off, fumbling with his fingers. His awkwardness only makes him more endearing.

Ned snickers beside him. “You’re not wrong. Captain America’s got that whole classic charm thing going on.”

Peter shoots him a look. “Dude.”

It’s only natural you and MJ pair up for the exercises. Though, to be fair, you’re not really doing much exercising. Instead, you’re too busy ogling Peter.

“You’re down horrendously bad,” says MJ, unapologetic.

You blink, looking down at her. “Huh.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She looks unimpressed by your attempt to seem unaware.

The way Peter effortlessly does pull-ups is doing something to you, and it’s really embarrassing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” she snorts. You watch as Peter flicks his attention over to… Liz. Always Liz. Never you.

“Is he staring at her again?” MJ asks, looking over. Your heart sinks a little.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mutter. “He’s just my friend.”

MJ raises an eyebrow, studying you for a moment before shrugging. “If you say so.”

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

The entire gym looks over at Ned and Peter. Um. What was that, Ned? Peter gets up, sputtering and denying Ned’s claim.

“They’re friends,” says Ned.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Your nose scrunches up at Flash’s words. MJ catches it and nods her approval.

Peter glances around nervously, his eyes meeting yours for a split second before darting away. You feel bad for him, even if he doesn’t have need for anyone’s pity. Peter is cool, and really smart. He’s also really cute, and he bites his lip when he’s focused on something. He can’t sit still for very long, and he has a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when–

Yikes, girl. Focus.

Wait, Liz’s party?

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight. You’re more than welcome to come,” she nods, demeanor kind of shy.

“Having a party?” Peter’s voice is breathy, and it makes your fingers clench.

The bell rings before Peter can decline (or accept, because why would he ever decline?) and Liz spares him a look as she walks away. Peter looks up at the ceiling in frustration, turning to Ned to snarl something at him.

Probably upset because Flash made fun of him in front of the girl he likes, you think miserably.

You help MJ up off the floor, waving her goodbye as she leaves. Your legs are barely able to talk you towards the door, wanting to go over to Peter. You can’t take your eyes off him, but you know you have to, so you tear them away and walk out.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Peter's feelings for Liz are clear, but you can't deny your own growing affection for him.

“[Name]!” Peter’s voice is very recognizable (to you at least). You hear his footsteps rush over, coming to a stop by your side. You turn to face him, your heart pounding. "Hey, Peter," you say, trying to sound casual.

He looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite place. "Hey, uh, I just wanted to say... about what Ned said earlier. I mean, he's just being, you know, Ned."

You nod. “It’s okay Peter, I think it’s cool you know Spider-Man.” Everything about him is cool.

Peter’s eyes widen slightly at your words. "Really? You do?" He seems both relieved and surprised by your reaction. He crosses his arms, trying to seem casual. “And, uh… what do you think about Spider-Man?”

Peter's question catches you off guard. You stare at him, a bit taken aback by his curiosity. “Well, I think he’s a hero,” you shrug. “Reliable.”

Peter kind of… stares. In awe of you. Then he snaps out of it, cheeks flushing as he looks down.

He clears his throat, changing the subject. “So, uh… you going to Liz’s party?”

You hadn't considered it, but the idea of spending more time with Peter, even if Liz is there, is tempting. Even so…

You purse your lips. “Probably not.”

He furrows his brows. “What? Who am I gonna go with?”

You snort. “Ned? Who else?”

“You.” He says it so absolutely it almost makes you fall to your knees. The idea is both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking. The last thing you want is to feel out of place at a party, especially with your growing feelings for Peter.

“You want me to go with you?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant even though your heart is racing.

Peter nods earnestly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re up for it. It’d be… nice.”

“I’ll… think about it.”

Peter’s face brightens up instantly, a mixture of relief and excitement evident. “Ok. Cool! I’ll, um. Hope to see you there.” And then he’s off to do his own thing.

When you arrive at Liz's house, you immediately spot MJ, and it puts your mind at ease. She’s in her own world, happy to snack on the foods there. She looks up as you approach.

“Sup.”

“Hi.”

You stand together awkwardly. Well, you’re awkward, and she’s cool. The party is in full swing, with music playing and people milling about, making the large living room feel even more crowded.

It’s embarrassing how fast you spot Peter. It’s as soon as he arrives. He’s decided to keep it casual, but you think he looks good. Really good. God, MJ was right, you are down bad.

Speaking of which, she nudges you and nods her head in Peter and Ned’s direction. “You should go say hi to him.”

“But…” Liz is there. To be fair, she’s probably only greeting them. Saying ‘thanks for coming’ you know. But even so… you’re not sure you want to watch Peter’s attention stay on Liz when you’re also there.

You take a deep breath and muster up the courage to approach Peter. MJ gives you a supportive nod, and you make your way over to them.

“Hi, Peter,” you greet, trying to sound casual despite the fluttering in your chest.

Peter turns to you, his face lighting up with a genuine smile that makes your stomach flip. “[Name]! You’re here.” His eyes are warm and welcoming, and for a moment, you forget about the rest of the party.

You nod, peering around him to greet Ned. “Hi, Ned.”

He gives you a small wave. “Hey, [Name].”

Peter's smile widens as he steps a little closer to you, clearly excited that you're there. His eyes roam your figure. “You look good.”

Your face warms. “Thanks. You too.”

“Dude. Peter,” says Ned, grabbing Peter’s arm. He begins to pull Peter away. “Sorry, [Name]. Gotta talk to him about something.” Peter looks affronted by Ned’s behavior, sending an apologetic glance your way.

You watch as Peter and Ned head off to the side, leaving you standing by yourself. A little awkwardly, you try to blend in with the crowd, scanning the room.

“Penis Parker, what’s up?”

Ugh, Flash. Who let him on the sound desk? He says a few mocking words, and suddenly Peter’s walking off somewhere.

You jog to catch up to him. “Peter, please don’t listen to Flash. He’s just an asshole.”

Peter stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a mixture of surprise and frustration. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“[Name],” he starts, voice honey sweet, “I’m not worried about Flash, I just…” He looks around for a moment, searching for whatever words he wants to say. “I gotta go do something. I’ll be back.”

You watch as Peter rushes out of the house, deflated. You feel a mixture of concern and confusion. The party goes on as if nothing happened, but your thoughts are entirely focused on him.

In a moment of impulsiveness, you decide to follow him. The cool night air hits you as you step out onto the porch, scanning the surroundings for any sign of Peter. Damn, where did he go? He’s fast. You walk down the front steps, glancing around. “Peter!” you call out, trying to catch his attention.

A movement catches your eye. Around the side of the house, on top of the neighboring ledge, there’s someone there. Your ears can barely pick up the rustling of clothes. Weird place to change clothes. How the hell did that guy even up there?

Wait a damn minute.

That guy is Peter. How the hell did he get up there so damn quick?

You keep yourself pressed against the wall, peeking around the corner. Why the hell is Peter even changing his clothes? He looks fine. Good, even. Wait, he’s changing his clothes. Maybe you shouldn't be spying on him, that’s weird. Oh, wait, he’s wearing something underneath. Something red and black, with web patterns on and a spider symbol on his chest.

…

Oh. Oh!

What the fuck!

As Peter pulls his undershirt off, you get a glimpse of him in his full Spider-Man glory. Holy shit, Peter Parker is Spider-Man. You knew there was something special about him, but this? This is a whole different level. The red and black suit, with its sleek, form-fitting design, is unmistakable. The spider emblem on his chest is a dead giveaway.

You swallow down the knot in your throat, willing your body to turn and go back inside.

He doesn’t come back.

You leave when Flash starts his ‘when I say Penis, you say Parker’ chant.

The yellow blazer feels tacky, but you’re required to wear it as part of the Academic Decathlon. Though, MJ isn’t wearing hers, so maybe you can get away with taking it off until you get to D.C.. But MJ is MJ.

“Hey, it’s Peter!”

What.

You turn around, seeing Peter run up to your group. Peter’s face is bright with excitement as he approaches your group. His usual nervousness is replaced by an eagerness you haven’t seen before. It’s like a different side of him is on display.

“I was hoping I could rejoin the team,” he says, looking at Liz.

And he’s welcomed back with open arms. He decides to sit next to you. You’re pretty sure because it’s closest to Liz, and because Ned has decided to sit in the back. You wonder if Ned knows his identity.

He nudges you with his arm. You’re snapped back to reality, looking at him. He’s staring at you, brows furrowed just the smallest bit. You feel your traitorous heart skip a beat, like it always does when he’s around.

“You okay? You’re quiet,” he murmurs, voice low.

You manage to nod, not having much to say. Are you mad that Peter kept this secret from you? No, of course not. There was never any obligation for him to tell you, or even anyone. It’s a pretty big secret to have, after all. Though, now you wonder if him being Spider-Man has something to do with that Stark internship…

Peter’s eyes linger on you, a mix of concern and curiosity. You can sense he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling. It’s a little uncomfortable, you’ve never really had to lie to him before, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to. You’ve just discovered one of the biggest secrets in your life, and it’s about someone who’s become so important to you.

His phone starts ringing. You peak at it, someone by the name of ‘Happy’. Weird name, but okay. He moves to the back of the bus to take, settling in next to Ned.

You sigh, slouching in your seat. You can’t believe your life.

At least you get to room with MJ. You’re just about to fall asleep when Liz comes knocking on your door, saying that she and the rest of the team are going to sneak down to the pool. MJ decides she’s going to come. For ‘enrichment’ she says. You on the other hand… kind of just want to stay inside right now.

Until another knock on your door rouses you from your would-be sleep. Again . You grumble as you make your way to your door, opening it to find Peter, his face a mix of uncertainty and hopefulness. “Hey,” he says, looking nervous. His hood is over his head. You think he’s got his suit under there.

You don’t bother trying to fix up your appearance since you truly doubt he doesn’t see you like that. “Hello?”

“Uh,” he mumbles, gesturing away from him. “You… weren’t with the others. Are you not going to go with them? To the pool?

You shake your head. “No, not feeling it.”

“Oh,” he nods, like it was obvious. “Are you, sick or something?”

“No.” You don’t mean to be blunt with him, but you don’t really know how to act around him anymore.

“Oh, Okay.” He shifts back and forth on his feet. “Can I come in?”

You open the door wider to let him in, never able to say no to him. Peter steps are hesitant and awkward, deciding to sit on the leaning against your bed, while you sit on the mattress.

“So..?” you prompt.

Peter licks his lips, looking down to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie. “I, um, wanted to talk. About... the party. Liz’s party.” For a moment, your heart races. Did he know you were there? He glances up, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I didn’t mean to, uh, leave you hanging. I just... had to go take care of something.”

You nod, understanding differently to what he knows. “It’s okay, Peter. I get it. I mean, you had... you had something important to do.”

Peter takes a deep breath, clearly relieved by your reaction. “I just... I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you or anything. I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”

Peter’s earnestness tugs at your chest. He’s going to give you a damn sweet tooth. You can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration. “Peter, it’s fine,” you say softly. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

He shakes his head, his expression earnest. “But I do. I care about you, and I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us.”

Your heart skips another traitorous beat at his words. His sincerity is disarming, and you find yourself wanting to reassure him, even though you’re the one grappling with this newfound knowledge about his double life. Why does he have to say things like that?

“Are you not going to the pool?” you ask, gesturing to his get-up.

He scratches his cheek, shaking his head. “No I… gotta… do something.” His voice gets quieter the more he speaks, realizing he’s just quoted the very thing he just apologized for. You snort, unable to help yourself in reaching out a brushing a curl away from his face. His eyes soften, and he reaches out, tentatively taking your hand.

Your fingers brush against his, and there's a moment of silence as you both just look at each other. Peter’s grip is gentle, as if he's afraid of pushing too much, too soon. You feel the warmth of his hand, and for a second, you forget about the secrets and the confusion.

After a moment, Peter clears his throat, his expression shifting back to a more familiar, awkward smile. You snap back to reality. “You should, uh, probably go do that thing.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes. “Yup. Gonna go do that thing now.”

He’s out the door before you can blink.

Peter doesn’t come back in time for the Academic Decathlon. MJ wins you the last point, anyway.

You’re just out of earshot as Ned talks to what you assume is Peter on the phone. You look away when Liz takes the phone and begins to speak to him.

Your coach decides it’ll be fun to have a tour of the Washington Monument. You zone out during the long elevator ride, thoughts drifting to Peter. Always Peter. You wonder if you were his girlfriend, would he look to you to patch him up when patrol gets rough? Would he take you away, swinging through the night while he tells you how pretty you look–

There’s a bright light, and everything goes deafening as a loud sound explodes within the elevator. Everything comes to a stop. Ned throws his backpack on the ground, frightened.

“Oh my God. Look at the ceiling.” There’s terrifying scorch marks on it.

“Just stay calm, everyone.”

“Oh, we are all going to die here.”

You don’t listen to anymore of what anyone has to say, too focused on steadying yourself against the wall. Holy shit. Peter better be hauling ass back here, now .

Security pushes the failing doors open, and the elevator hatch is opened as your group is prepared for evacuation. It’s a scary process, and you feel like you’re just waiting for the elevator to give up and start plummeting.

Flash, always an asshole, shoves Liz out of the way, taking the trophy with him. You scoff in disbelief as he says, “Take my trophy!” ready to give him a piece of your mind, because by God, you are in a life or death situation and he still finds the time of day to be himself–

Speaking of death.

The elevator just gave up.

You are actively falling to your resting place right now.

You can’t hear anything over the sound of everybody else’s scream. You can’t even bring yourself to scream. Even as you’re about to die, you hold yourself back, just as you always have. You’ve held yourself back when it comes to school, not putting in as much effort as you could’ve, and you’ve held yourself back from telling Peter how you feel.

Now you’ll never get too.

Except the elevator jerks to a stop, almost sending you to the floor.

There’s a web attached to the top. You can barely see a red clad figure connected to it.

Nevermind, maybe you will get to.

And then the doors he’s held up against break off the hinges and you’re falling again, spider included like a package deal. The damned box catches itself on something, and the love of your life has a rough landing as he falls into the elevator with you. Oof.

Unfortunately his impact knocks the elevator off, and you’re falling. Again. If you make it out of this alive, you’re going to take a five year nap. Peter, with all of his amazing smarts, sends a web to the top of the shaft and plants himself upside down in the elevator, stopping the thing.

He clears his throat. “Hey, how you doing? Don’t worry. I got you.” Why do you love this loser.

You stand with your whole body tense as Peter makes the perilous journey of dragging your group back up, slowly and steadily. You’re gripping the handrail so tightly your knuckles turn white. Every jolt and creak of the elevator feels like a death sentence. But Peter – no, Spider-Man – is pulling you up, inch by inch.

Ned is out first, then Mr. Harrington, and Liz clutches your hand tightly as it’s just the two of you left.

But then the floor shoots out from under your feet. Liz, ever so pretty and ever so brave, jumps out, reaching a hand for Spider-Man.

She misses, and for a split second it’s just you and her falling. And then there’s a thwip sound and suddenly you’re not falling. You’re just hanging. Hanging by a thread. Or a web, you should say.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Spider-Man grips Liz’s hand so tight and so assuredly, you feel like everything’s okay. Liz’s hand feels warm. Really warm. Probably all the sweat from it.

The sweat from it.

Sweat that’s making your grip come loose.

Liz looks down, terrified. “She’s slipping.”

“What–” chokes Peter.

And your hand falls from her grip. This time, you let yourself scream. The mask Peter wears gets tinier and tinier as you fall. The sensation of free-fall is overwhelming. It’s like you’re completely weightless. You wonder if this is how Peter feels when he’s swinging through New York. You also wonder he ever feels the twisting of your stomach.

You feel something wrap around your waist tightly. You’re yanked back up with a sharp tug. The warmth of an arm is something you’re not all that foreign to. You’ve been hugged by your family and friends before. But not like this. It… kind of feels like home.

“I got you, [Name].” Is whispered in your ear like a prayer. “I won’t let you fall.”

Peter’s voice in your ear is like a lifeline, pulling you out of the chaos and fear. The sheer relief of his presence makes your heart pound in your chest. You cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he swings you both out of the elevator shaft and onto the relative safety of the doorway.

You can hear the panicked voices of your friends, but all you can focus on is Peter, his breath coming in quick gasps, his suit slightly torn but his grip on you unyielding. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice trembling slightly.

You can only nod, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. Tears blur your vision as you look at him, your best friend, your hero, the boy you've been in love with for so long.

"You saved me," you whisper, your voice breaking.

Peter tilts his head, voice  a little wobbly but genuine. "Couldn't let you fall," he says simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He gently lets go of you, leaving you to connect back to the real world again.

“So, uh, is everyone okay?” And just like that, things go back to the way they were.

Then the piece of metal he’s hanging upside-down from breaks off, and he’s falling down the shaft.

He’ll be fine.

The school news plays on a nearby team, retelling the events in which you almost died. Weird flex, but okay.

You’re on your way to your next class when arms suddenly wrap around you. You blink. Uh…

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” says a sweet voice. Ah, Peter. Who else but Peter? You smile and melt into his embrace. “Hi, Peter.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if checking for any hidden injuries. “You sure you’re alright? That was... intense.”

You shrug. “Yeah.” Then, you feel like being mean. Only a little bit. As a treat. “How would you know, though? You weren’t there.”

Peter’s eyes widen in confusion, a frown pulling at his lips. “What do you mean? I was there. I–” Then he stops himself. He was there, just not as Peter. You raise a brow.

Peter’s face goes through a series of expressions—confusion, realization, and finally, a nervous chuckle. “Oh. Right.” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just–”

You roll your eyes halfheartedly. “Had to do that thing, I know.” Maybe you’d be more upset if you didn’t know any better, but you do. Maybe you’re just tired from everything.

Peter’s apology falters as he looks at you with those big, apologetic eyes. He seems so earnest, so genuinely concerned. He gives you those puppy dog eyes, filled with guilt and embarrassment.

“Look,” you say, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, “it’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“Come on,” he whines halfheartedly. “Let me make it up to you.”

You look at Peter, a mix of exhaustion and affection in your eyes. Despite everything that happened, you can’t help but find his earnestness endearing. “Alright,” you say, managing a small smile. “Here’s my proposal.”

Peter's eyes light up with a hopeful glimmer, and he leans in closer, eager to hear your proposal. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day lifting off your shoulders as you prepare to make your request.

“If neither of us get a homecoming date,” you begin, watching as Peter’s eyes flick back and forth between yours, “we’ll go together.”

Peter's eyes widen with surprise and a hint of nervousness. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, processing your proposal. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to steady his racing heart, and then he nods with a flushed face.

"Deal," he says, his voice steadying. "But let's hope neither of us ends up dateless, okay? I mean, it's homecoming. It should be fun."

His words kind of sting. He basically just said he hopes he can find a date that’s not you. You’re not sure if the fact that he’s willing to go with you if things don’t work out is a good thing or not.

“Yeah, let’s hope,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light. Peter gives you a reassuring smile, though there’s an awkward tension between you now.

“Parker, my office.”

Peter looks at you exasperated. You shrug. Looks like Peter has detention.

The next couple of days, Peter looks down in the dumps.

He just seems… less like himself. Still as sweet as ever, holding doors open for you and carrying your bag. It’s hard to miss the way his usual enthusiasm is replaced by a constant air of melancholy.

You notice him moping in the hallways, his usual banter replaced by awkward silences. In class, he doesn’t seem any different, but you can tell the way he zones out when he’s not answering a question.

You try to give him space, but it’s hard to ignore the sense of worry you feel. You don’t want to pry, but you also don’t want him to sink into a deeper funk. Perhaps it’s in your nature to want to make him happy.

May greets you with a smile when she sees you on your doorstep. She’s always been kind to you. Maybe too kind. May always let little teasing comments about you too getting together slip. Peter always waved away her comments, chuckling awkwardly and saying ‘she’s just kidding’. Not very healthy for your heart.

Peter’s sitting on his bed, lost in thought. He jerks up as soon as you enter, staring at you in surprise. “[Name]!”

“Hi,” you greet, coming to sit next to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I can leave if you want,” you hum, point a thumb out the door. It’s mostly a joke, you really hope he doesn’t actually want you to leave.

Peter looks a bit flustered by your presence. “No, no, don’t go. I just… didn’t know you were coming.”

You lean back on your hands. “Well, when you’ve been acting weird the last couple of days, I’m gonna get worried.”

Peter slumps in on himself, sighing. He contemplates for a second before meeting your eyes. “I lost the internship.”

The internship. The Stark internship. The one you’re pretty sure is a cover for him being Spider-Man. Who hasn’t been active in a couple of days. Oh.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Peter, I’m so sorry.”

Peter nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah, well, it’s my own fault. I was… I messed up. Tried to overcompensate, and it didn’t work out.”

You can see the frustration and disappointment in his eyes. He’s always been so driven, so dedicated. To see him like this, struggling with something that clearly matters to him, tugs at your heartstrings.

“It’s not your fault,” you say gently, trying to offer him some comfort. “Sometimes things just don’t go as planned, no matter how hard you try.”

Peter offers a small, bitter smile. “I guess. It’s just… I don’t know.” He looks in a faraway corner. “It was all I had.”

You purse your lips, wanting to scream ‘you have me!’, but you can’t bring yourself to.

Peter clears his throat. “At least I got that date with Liz.”

…Huh?

You think there’s a ringing in your ears. Your heart sinks as Peter mentions Liz. It feels like a punch to the gut. You try to mask your surprise, keeping your tone steady. "Wait, you got a date with Liz?"

“Yeah…” he chuckles shyly. “I asked her to homecoming. She said yes.”

You nod slowly, trying to process this new information. It's not exactly a blow to your heart, but it's definitely unsettling. Peter, the person you’ve had feelings for, is going out with someone else.

Though, you shouldn’t be surprised, really. You knew Peter liked Liz. If the way he stared at her wasn’t obvious enough, then the fact that he asked her to hoco is. And the fact that she said yes… God, you need to get over yourself. It’s not the end of the world. You just…

You really wanted to go with him.

“So… who’s your date?” he asks, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You bring your legs up, wrapping your arms around them. “Nobody. I think… I’m not gonna go.”

Peter’s face falls at your words. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it, clearly at a loss for words. “Why not?”

You shrug. “I don’t have a date. Don’t wanna go alone.”

He furrows his brows. “I thought you did.”

Now it’s your turn to look confused. “No. Why did you think that?”

“You…” he trails off, looking lost. “I heard you. Talking about your crush”

“When did you hear that?”

He gulps, turning away guiltily. “In. Gym… class.”

You take a moment to think back. The only time you ever talked about your crush in gym was with MJ, that time Ned mentioned Peter knows Spider-Man. But that time…

“How did you hear that?” you ask, kind of knowing the answer. “You were, like, twenty feet away from me.”

He blushes. “I, uh… have really good hearing?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Whatever. At least you didn’t mention Peter’s name. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t like me back. So.”

Peter’s face softens as he processes your words, a mixture of guilt and concern evident in his expression. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Don’t be. He likes someone else. Can’t be helped.”

Peter is silent for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if trying to gauge your feelings. There’s a tension in the air, a weight that seems to hang between you. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

You breathe, patting your thighs as you stand up. “Hope you have fun, though.”

Peter watches you go, feeling like he missed something.

True to your word, you don’t go to homecoming. You spend the night watching a movie and eating popcorn. You don’t cry, but you do sniffle.

You catch wind of the battle between this guy (Liz’s dad , holy shit, you hope she’s doing okay) and Spider-Man. The next time you see him at school, you run up to him.

“Peter!” you shout.

Peter snaps out of his thoughts, turning to you. A small smile creeps up on his face at the sight of you. “Hey, what’s up–”

His words stutter to a stop as your arms wrap around him. Peter freezes for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden hug. Slowly, his arms come up to return the embrace, holding you tightly. He feels warm and solid against you, a comforting presence despite everything that's happened.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You melt into his embrace. “Just glad you’re okay.”

He pulls back to look at you, arms dropping to hang around your waist. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You can’t help yourself, cupping his cheek gently. Peter's eyes widen slightly at the tenderness of your touch. For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decipher the reason behind your concern. He ever so slightly leans into your hand, doe eyes looking into you.

“You’ve just… been through a lot lately,” you decide to say.

Peter takes a deep breath, his gaze dropping to your hands resting on his cheek. He seems to be grappling with his emotions, his usual composure wavering. “I didn’t realize you were so concerned,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Of course I am. You’re important to me, Peter.”

Peter’s mouth opens and closes, unable to form words. He gulps, shifting on his feet. The tension in the air is thicker than it’s ever been, though you can’t tell why.

Peter thinks he just had an epiphany.

He takes a deep breath, hands on your waist tightening. “Hey, um. Can I… can we talk later? After school?”

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

Peter nods as well. “Cool, cool.” His hands fall from your waist when his phone buzzes, and you finally feel like you can breathe. “I gotta take this,” he says, already walking away from you.

Peter texts you before the last bell rings, saying that something came up and if you can push your talk a few hours ahead. Your fingers shake as you type out your reply agreeing. You do your homework in silence, foot tapping up and down nervously. The sun is on the cusp of setting when there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey,” Peter greets you when you open it. He looks out of breath, like he just ran here.

“Hey,” you respond, trying to keep your voice steady.

Peter shifts nervously on his feet, glancing around before focusing on you. “You’re parents home?”

You raise a brow. “No..?”

“Good.” He moves past you, making his way to your living room. You close the door and follow him, heart pounding in your chest. Peter paces for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning to face you.

“I,” he starts, voice unsteady, “have been doing a lot of thinking.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue. Peter runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I’ve been focused on the wrong things. I know I haven’t really… been there. So, I’m sorry for that.” He wrings his hands together. You watch Peter with a mixture of anticipation and concern, your heart racing as he continues to struggle with his words.

“And, um, I guess, what I’m trying to say is…” He looks directly into your eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and resolve in his expression. He takes a deep breath.

“I–”

“–Know,” you blurt.

Peter’s mouth flops open like a fish out of water. “Uh. What?”

You purse your lips. Cat’s out of the bag. “I know you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter stares incredulously at you. “I… saw. When you went outside to change at Liz’s party. You just left, and I followed you, and for some reason you were changing in front of a big ass window without your mask on? So, literally anyone could’ve saw you, so that might be more your fault than mine–”

“[Name].” Peter's voice cuts through your rambling, and he takes a step closer, hands coming to grasp yours. “You… know?”

You gulp. “Well, yeah? That’s what I just said.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, shoulders hunching. He brings your hands up to his mouth, lightly kissing them. It sends your heart cracking through your ribs. “[Name], that’s not what I was gonna say.”

You look up at Peter, confusion and anticipation mingling in your eyes. He seems almost relieved, a soft smile gracing his lips as he holds your hands close. The moment feels suspended, and you can hear the quiet hum of the evening outside, adding to the atmosphere of calm and intensity.

“I like you. I really like you.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat, the words sinking in as if time has momentarily stopped. Peter’s eyes are locked on yours, filled with sincerity and a vulnerability that’s rare to see from him. The warmth of his hands around yours feels electrifying, grounding you in the moment.

“...I thought you liked Liz,” you whisper.

“I thought I did too,” he mutters, close. “But I was being stupid. I thought you liked someone else, so I stayed away.” He shakes his head. “But I can’t anymore.”

“How do you know it’s you I like?” you croak.

“Apart from you basically just admitting it?” He smiles cheekily. “MJ told me.”

You click your tongue. “Meddler.”

“She said she got tired of our bullshit.”

You giggle quietly, head dropping. Peter doesn’t take his eyes off of you, biting his lip in anticipation. You squeeze his hands gently, still processing the whirlwind of emotions. “So, what now?”

Peter’s expression softens, and he takes another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “Can I… can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart flutters at his words. “Yes,” you say, almost breathless.

Peter leans in slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips meet yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the unspoken emotions, a release of the tension and a celebration of what’s finally come to light. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, shared moment.

As Peter's lips linger on yours, the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate yet still tender. You feel the warmth of his body, the soft pressure of his lips, and the gentle caress of his hands around yours. The kiss seems to hold everything that had been unsaid, all the confusion, the longing, and the relief of finally being on the same page

When you finally pull back, both of you are smiling, the weight of recent days seeming lighter. Peter’s eyes are full of warmth and affection, and he holds you close, his forehead resting against yours.

“Will you, um… be my–”

“–Guy in the chair? Sure, Pete. It’d be my pleasure.”

Peter hides his grin in your neck. “Sorry. Ned beat you to it.”

“Barely seconds into this relationship and you’ve already betrayed me,” you scoff playfully.

“So we’re dating now?” His voice sounds hopeful.

“Duh.” You’ve never been more sure. “Pete, I’ve been down bad for you ever since you gave me that pencil.”

He pulls back, looking at you with heartbreaking eyes. He leans in to kiss you on the forehead, then pulls back slightly, his expression soft and sincere. "I’m really sorry about homecoming. I’ll take you to prom and we’ll have the best night of our lives.”

You’re pretty sure the best night of your life will be when you and Peter get married, but maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. “I heard you dumped her there as soon as you got there, anyway. If you ever do that to me I’ll make sure you can never be Spider-Man again.”

He nods his head seriously. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he grins, giddy with the outcome of the situation. “I’ll still make it up to you.”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He blushes, scandalized. “[Name]!”

“Down bad for a long time, Pete,” you remind him. “Like I said, my parents aren’t here…”

He scoffs, shoving you away slightly before pulling you back to him, not willing to let you go after he finally has you. The two of you stand there, holding each other, savoring the quiet and the closeness. The weight of the past few days lifts, replaced by a renewed sense of connection and possibility. It feels like the beginning of something new and wonderful, a chance to explore this newfound closeness and see where it takes you both.

“Can we just. Go out to dinner or something?” he asks, thumb rubbing at your waist. “We could use some celebration, I think."

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth at his thoughtfulness. "That sounds perfect."

As you both head out the door, hand in hand, the evening feels full of promise. With the uncertainties of the past few days behind you, you're ready to embrace whatever comes next—together.

notes: i wanted reader to drop the "i know ur spiderman" bomb and somehow find a way out of the conversation and now peter has to try to confess to them but he just cant get a hold of them for whatever reason. but that would be like a whole nother 3k or more words and like... this fic already too long LOL

thanks for reading !!

[kwanisms]

Monsoon Season — y.jeongin

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ kumiho!Jeongin × f!Reader

wc: 17.4k (all of these are gonna be at least 10k so prepare yourselves for that lol)

summary: Jeongin has always been a bit of an outcast in his village being half fox demon (kumiho) until a kind stranger takes him in during a monsoon and gives him more than a place to stay for a few days.

genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural and demonic themes, historic themes, s2l; non idol au, demon au, historical au (kinda)

warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Jeongin is bullied heavily, physical violence, a building is burned down, Jeongin gets hit over the head with a branch by the reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip

Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST!

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: I'm a sucker for Jeongin in general so there's that. He needs more content and I'm happy to provide that. Anitta is just a codename used by Jeongin's mother. it'll make more sense later what I'm talking about. it's a surprise, shhhhh! Thank you for reading and if you liked this, please reblog or comment! Also consider supporting my work through my kofi (link is in my pinned post). As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (it’s a period piece and I’m not looking up ancient contraceptive techniques lol just use protection) first time sex, degradation (m receiving), begging, corruption kink, virgin!Jeongin, use of pet names (baby boy, sweetheart, little fox, etc), Jeongin is a subby whiny baby. Take it or leave it. If I missed anything, just let me know!

dialogue prompt: ❛ Have you never been touched like this before? ❜

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To a kid, the word orphan is often used as an insult from other kids. Jeongin was lucky that he never had to hear that word until he was much older. He was just shy of fifteen years when his father died from pneumonia. Old enough to be considered a man but Jeongin didn’t feel like a man.

He felt like a lost little boy who just lost his father.

His mother had left not long after Jeongin’s birth. His father had tried his best to explain to Jeongin how his mother didn’t love him any less. She just had a different way of doing things. She had things she had to do, tasks to see to and couldn’t take a newborn with her.

That was the nature of a kumiho. Others called her flighty, said she abandoned him but Jeongin knew better. He had her journals, gifted to him on his fifteenth birthday by his father on instruction from his mother. Jeongin had spent his free time reading those journals, getting to know his mother through her words. It was a surreal experience for him.

His father couldn’t tell Jeongin much about his mother other than that she was incredibly cunning, kind, and compassionate. He also spoke of her beauty. Jeongin had never seen a portrait of his mother and had no idea what she looked like.

“I see her in you,” his father often told him. “You have her eyes and her hair.”

Jeongin took solace in the fact that he resembled his mother. It was comforting in a way.

When Jeongin was finally thrust upon the cruel world at a young age, he had luckily learned enough skills from his father to survive. He knew how to hunt small game and fish. He grew a simple garden that was enough for one when he harvested it. He had spent time foraging with his father and knew his way around the forest’s shrubbery and other plants.

He knew which ones were food, which ones healed, and which ones killed.

Jeongin was able to raise himself, growing into a man of limited means and he kept to himself except when he needed to head to the village to trade his furs for other things he could not provide for himself, like clothing. He’d never learned how to sew as he had no mother to teach him and his father also didn’t know how.

So another morning was spent gathering the furs he’d chosen to sell, setting them aside for the ones he wanted to keep. And he packed some food for his trip to the village. His walk through the woods was always quite so early in the morning. The sounds of the forest waking up, birds calling out to say good morning as the sky lightened from deep indigo to a light periwinkle, the sun creeping over the horizon.

The first rays of sunshine had started to break through the trees as Jeongin reached the village which was also bustling, everyone having gotten up around the same time as he. He ignored the stares as he walked through the village towards the market, readjusting his bag as he trodden on.

He could hear murmurs and whispers as he passed but chose to ignore them. Sure, he perhaps didn’t stick out as much as a full blooded fox folk might, but his blond fox ears, hair, and orange eyes gave him away immediately. Folk around these parts didn’t normally sport such a contrasting hair color.

Jeongin’s father had told him he took after his mother after all.

Upon reaching the market, Jeongin looked around, surveying his surroundings and looking for the lady his father had always purchased clothing from. He spotted her and made a beeline as she was folding garments, setting them down on the wooden stall before her.

“Morning,” Jeongin heard her grumble. Unlike the rest of the villagers, this woman had always been kind to him as he accompanied his father, sneaking him sweets and other homemade candies when his father wasn’t looking. The caramels were his favorites.

“Morning,” Jeongin parroted as he looked over the linen tunics. His was starting to fit a little too snugly and the threads were wearing out. His pants would last him another winter at least. As he was looking over the tunics, he heard a voice as sweet as honey call out.

“Granny, I can’t find the skirts!”

Jeongin looked up in time to see probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life appear before him. He stared, awestruck as she walked over to the old woman. She had waist length black hair that fell in soft waves down her back, half of it pulled back and secured with a comb. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, much different than the dark brown or black he’d grown accustomed to.

She was petite, smaller than he was, with a slender frame and a pale complexion. She met his gaze and Jeongin felt as if the world stopped moving. Everything around him seemed to slow, almost as if time was stopping. The sounds around him drowned out as he stared back into those brown eyes.

Her pale, pink lips pulled into a shy smile before she averted her eyes to look at her grandmother. “They’re in the chest, not the sacks, dear,” the old woman replied and waved her hands. “I’ll get them,” she said, brushing past the girl and around the cart.

The girl looked after her grandmother before stepping towards the stall. Jeongin managed to snap himself out of his trance and had looked down to resume inspecting the tunics. “This would look nice on you,” the girl said, brushing her fingers over a black tunic.

Jeongin glanced up, meeting her gaze and quickly looked away as did she. He noticed the blush that crept over her cheeks. “I’ve never seen you before,” she suddenly said, smiling as Jeongin looked up. “Are you new to the village?” Jeongin opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted.

“He lives in the forest,” the grandmother said as she returned, arms loaded with fabric that she dumped onto the stack of boxes next to her. “This is my granddaughter, Haneul,” the old woman said as she started to fold the skirts and place them on the wooden surface of the stall.

Haneul turned to look back at Jeongin. “What’s your name?” she asked. Jeongin was caught off guard and forgot to answer, instead just smiling and nodding at Haneul. She giggled as he realized his error, shaking his head before answering awkwardly. “Uh, I’m Jeongin.”

As the old woman folded the skirts, Haneul reached into a small pouch on her hip, glancing at her grandmother before pulling her hand out and quickly handing something to Jeongin when her grandmother wasn’t watching. Jeongin glanced down at his hand and felt heat spread to his cheeks.

Sitting in his palm were three wrapped caramel candies. The ones the old woman used to give him. He smiled, tucking them away in his bag before clearing his throat. “I need some shirts,” he announced. “Very well,” the old woman said. “What do you have to trade?”

Jeongin ended up trading one of his tanuki furs for three shirts, two light colored linen ones and one black one. He also managed to trade three of his rabbit furs for a new tool set. As he thanked the blacksmith he turned around and bumped into a body.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized profusely, bowing quickly. The woman he’d bumped into patted him on the shoulder and went about her business. Jeongin was about to turn away when he caught Haneul watching him, an amused smile on her face. When their eyes met, Jeongin felt another rush of heat over his cheeks and waved to Haneul who returned the gesture.

Before Jeongin could turn and start making his way home, he felt an arm hook over the back of his neck, draping across his shoulders. “Well, well, well,” said an all-too-familiar voice. “Look what the dog has dragged back to the village!”

The comment was met with a cacophony of laughter as Jeongin held his tongue.

“Hello to you too, Baek-hwa,” he said monotonously. He glanced up at the taller man, noticing he was now surrounded. Baek-hwa’s friends were staring him down and Jeongin felt like this wasn’t going to end well. He felt Baek-hwa’s arm tighten around the back of his neck.

“What are you doing here, thief, I thought I told you to stay away from the village,” Baek-hwa said under his breath so only Jeongin heard him. “I’m not a thief, Baek-hwa,” Jeongin replied softly. “I just came to get some things and I’ll be going back home now. You won’t have to see me again for a long time.”

Baek-hwa clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You really should have stayed away.”

It didn’t take long for Baek-hwa and his friends to drag Jeongin away from the market and behind a hut before they started laying into him. His bag was torn from his grip and tossed aside as they landed blow after blow on him. Jeongin had learned from a young age that if he avoided trouble, he’d be okay but he knew that wasn’t always the case. Regardless if he stayed out of trouble, it always managed to find him.

He leaned against the wall, doubled over in pain as Baek-hwa’s friends goaded him on. “Kick his ass!” one laughed. Jeongin glanced at where his bag sat and then looked up. His assailants were too busy egging their leader on. He had a small window. Mustering his strength and taking a deep breath, Jeongin pushed off the wall, knocking over one of his attackers.

He snatched his bag and took off as they shouted after him. He may not be as strong as they were, but he was definitely faster. He was more agile having spent all his life living in the forest. They had no hope of catching him once he made it into the treeline.

Jeongin didn’t stop as he vaulted over fallen logs and through the underbrush. He made sure to loop around the long way to lose his pursuers if they were even still following him. He didn’t want to take the chance that they would follow him home and come knocking.

It was midday by the time Jeongin finally reached the front door of his father’s cabin, pushing aside the curtain that hung there and stepping over the threshold. He set his bag down and moved to peer out the window. He saw no sign of life and let the curtain fall back in place before he went about his business.

His father had been in charge of keeping up the home but without his help, the cabin was slowly falling apart and Jeongin didn’t know much about building. There were poorly made patches in the roof that barely kept out the rain and more than once, parts of the roof had collapsed. Jeongin did his best to make it work as he had nowhere else to go.

He was sitting by the fire, heating up some stew he’d made the previous night when he heard it.

A distant crash of thunder. Looking up from the fire, he let out a sigh and glanced up at the roof.

“Just hold out for tonight, please,” he begged the thatched hay. “Just one more night.”

The storm blew in quickly after that, dark, thick storm clouds obscuring the sun and bringing with it heavy rains and strong gusts of wind that whipped around the small cabin, making the walls shake and blowing through the cracks Jeongin hadn’t managed to seal properly.

Several times, he was afraid that the roof was going to collapse or a wall was going to cave in and then the entire cabin would crumble around him, trapping him inside.

Rainwater leaked through the shoddy patching, drenching almost everything under it. Jeongin huddled up in the corner as his furniture and almost everything was soaked. The only thing that saved him was the built-in table in the corner.

He had dragged most of his bedding from the bed to the corner, curling up in the only fortified, safe, and dry place in the cabin. It was here that he fell asleep, curled up with his blankets and pillow as well as his bag and the small box his father had left him. The only important possessions in his life.

The storm raged all night and finally blew itself out by dawn, the dark storm clouds retracting as the sun rose, almost as if shooing them away. Jeongin woke as the sun was climbing and crawled out of his cubby, inspecting the damage. His plea to the roof had saved him. The thatching had held up for the most part but it would have to be replaced. Jeongin wasn’t sure who he could even ask.

He headed outside to inspect his garden and was pleased to see that the garden remained safe and untouched as he picked up a few twigs that had blown in and tossed them away. His firewood stores were also surprisingly dry with only the top layer soaked from the rains.

All in all, he’d managed to survive another monsoon storm. As he was cleaning up stray leaves and small branches, Jeongin heard voices and looked up, his stomach dropping as he spotted Baek-hwa and his friends. ‘No,’ he thought. He looked around and darted inside the cabin, starting to grab things, placing them inside his bag as the voices grew louder and louder outside.

“Come on out, thief, we know you’re in there!” came Baek-hwa’s voice. Jeongin swore under his breath, filling his bag with as much as he could but he knew he wouldn’t have time to leave out the front door. He’d be spotted and then they’d follow.

He dropped the bag by the back window before exiting the cabin to face his tormentors. If he was lucky, they’d just beat him up and leave quickly and then he could leave. He didn’t know where he’d go but now that they knew where his home was, they would be back.

“There he is,” Baek-hwa said as he stopped, leaning against the fence Jeongin’s father had built to keep their small homestead separate from the forest around them. “The thief shows his face.”

Jeongin’s fingers curled in against his palms. “I’m not a thief,” he said, a little more forceful than he intended. “Stop calling me that.” The smirk on Baek-hwa’s face dropped instantly. “You raising your voice at me?” he asked, his tone low and dangerously so.

“You think you can just raise your voice and talk back to me and I’ll let it slide?”

Jeongin held his ground. This was his home after all. “We’re outside the village,” Jeongin replied. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore, Baek-hwa.”

The man laughed, looking around at his friends. “This is my world, Jeongin,” he said, actually saying the blond fox folk’s name. “You’re just living in it.”

Jeongin forced a smile. “No it’s not,” he answered, shocking Baek-hwa. Never before has Jeongin acted so defiantly but like Jeongin said, they weren’t in the village. Jeongin wasn’t afraid of them out here. Sure he was dangerously outnumbered but he didn’t have to worry about causing the village trouble out here.

“I’ve had enough of your smart mouth,” Baek-hwa said before nudging the friend standing beside him. “Teach him a lesson, Jae-song.”

The man next to him climbed the fence, landing in the garden and stared Jeongin down before advancing slowly through the small rows of vegetables, making sure to stomp on them as he strode towards Jeongin. “I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born,” he spat, bringing his fists up.

Jeongin didn’t move, standing stoically as he stared back at Jae-song. “Beat you to pulp and leave you for the scavengers,” he added. Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “Your parents must be so proud,” the smaller man retorted, catching Jae-song off guard before Jeongin tilted his head. “Oh wait…” he said with a scoff. “They’re dead.”

Jae-song gritted his teeth and swung at Jeongin who dodged the blow easily. “Picking on smaller people and beating them up for the fun of it. What would your mother think?”

Jae-song let out an angry yell. “Shut the hell up!” he swung again but Jeongin managed to dodge it again, this time pushing Jae-song forward, using the bully’s momentum to send him running face first into the side of the cabin.

“And stay down,” Jeongin added as Jae-song fell to the ground, holding his nose and writhing in pain. “I’m getting sick of this,” Baek-hwa said loudly. “Grab him.”

Jeongin turned as two more of Baek-hwa’s friends hopped the fence and advanced toward him, also kicking and stomping on the vegetable beds as they went. “Two against one?” Jeongin asked, raising a brow. “How noble of you. Or is it pathetic that you need help to take me on?”

Jeongin ducked as two separate fists swung at him before kicking out, knocking one of the assailants down and rolling out of the way as the other aimed a kick at him. Jeongin was back on his feet as the one who tried to kick him, came lumbering forward. As he was about to take another swing, Jeongin dodged around him, kicking him in the backside and sending him toppling over the fence.

“Enough!” Baek-hwa said, climbing the fence himself. “I grow weary of this,” he continued, advancing in Jeongin, stalking forward like a panther stalking its prey. Jeongin kept his eye not only on Baek-hwa but also on his friends who seemed like they were going to sit this one out.

“You sound like some kind of villain, talking like that,” Jeongin noted with a laugh. “I grow weary of your games,” Jeongin mocked, turning as Baek-hwa circled him slowly. “I’m going to end you,” Baek-hwa growled angrily. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Again with the villain talk. Come on already,” Jeongin said exasperatedly.

Baek-hwa leaned into his punch as he threw his fist forward. Jeongin managed to block the attack before counter attacking with a blow of his own to Baek-hwa’s side. “You little shit,” Baek-hwa grunted, reaching for Jeongin who dodged again, pushing Baek-hwa’s hands aside.

The taller man tried again, aiming a punch that Jeongin deflected before hitting Baek-hwa in the throat with his palm. Immediately Baek-hwa backed off, choking from the sudden impact. “Go home,” Jeongin said as he watched Baek-hwa stumble backwards. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

As the men helped each other up and staggered out of his garden, Jeongin heard Baek-hwa’s strained voice call out. “We’ll be back, thief. Watch your back!”

Jeongin watched as they disappeared in the forest and breathed a sigh of relief. Never before had he stood his ground against his tormentors. He was grateful for the few self defense lessons his father had given him before he passed.

Jeongin looked down at his mangled vegetable beds and sighed. He would have to go foraging and salvage what he could. He needed to pack up everything and leave tonight. He knew Baek-hwa and his friends would be back.

He entered the cabin, grabbing a basket and heading out into the forest. There was a berry patch not far from his cabin but the terrain made it a longer task of traversing to it. Once there, Jeongin started to gather some of the berries. There he also found wild carrots, chives, cabbage, and potatoes. He gathered what he deemed necessary for tonight as well as some for his trip and started to make his way back.

The sun was starting to set when he reached his cabin and he felt his heart sink and his stomach drop. Baek-hwa and his friends had returned but this time he was really outnumbered. He had half a mind to sneak around to the back of the cabin and grab his bag without being seen but just his luck, one of them turned and spotted him. 

Before he could turn and run, he was grabbed from behind by two sets of hands, the basket knocked from his grip, and dragged over to where Baek-hwa stood. “Not so tough now,” Baek-hwa sneered. Jeongin looked around at the ten or so men Baek-hwa had brought with him. 

“Judging by your entourage, I’d say you aren’t very tough either,” he quipped.

For his comment, Baek-hwa landed a blow, punching Jeongin hard in the stomach and causing him to double over in pain. “That’s for earlier,” he snapped before looking towards one of his friends and nodding. Jeongin looked up in time to see one of the men he’d fought earlier holding a torch. His eyes widened in horror.

“No,” he said, struggling against the two holding him. “Stop!” he shouted as the one with the torch lit the garden on fire before moving towards the cabin. “Stop, please!” Jeongin shouted and continued to struggle. “Everything I own is in there! You can’t do this!”

Baek-hwa smiled smugly as Jeongin’s father’s cabin was set ablaze. “Actually, I can,” Baek-hwa said.

As the cabin caught fire and the flames spread, Baek-hwa stepped back allowing the others to take turns punching and kicking Jeongin. “S-stop,” Jeongin coughed. “Please.”

Baek-hwa laughed cruelly. “That’s what thieves get,” he said as Jeongin collapsed to his knees, only being held up by the two beside him. Jeongin weakly watched as the flames engulfed his home and burned presumably everything inside. Everything was gone. The cabin, the roof, his furniture, his stores… his eyes widened. 

His mothers journals. 

‘No,’ he thought as he stared at the fire.

He hadn’t finished reading them all.

Jeongin struggled against his captors. They held onto him tightly as Baek-hwa watched the inferno with a smirk. With a strength he’d never experienced before, Jeongin managed to pull free from his captors, delivering a punch to each before tackling Baek-hwa to the ground.

His actions were so sudden that everyone was caught off guard as Jeongin grabbed Baek-hwa’s head and slammed it against the ground, dazing the man before he scrambled off him and pushed through the hands that tried to grab at him. He burst into the flaming inferno, shielding his eyes as he looked around. His bag by the window sat untouched.

Before grabbing it, Jeongin darted under the table, tearing through the blankets until he found the bag with his mothers journals. He grabbed it and got up, eyes landing on the trinket box his father had made sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. Jeongin dashed across the room to grab it, stuffing it into the bag with the journals before he moved to the back window, grabbing the bag and heaving it over his shoulder.

Tossed both bags out the window before climbing through. Grabbing the bags, he took off into the forest as the fire consumed his home, the roof finally collapsing. Jeongin turned to look back at the raging inferno as he slung the bags over his back. ‘No going back now,’ he told himself as he watched the flames dance before turning away from the sight and heading further into the woods.

He’d never been this deep before. Glancing skyward, he could see clouds were obscuring the stars and he could only assume another storm was brewing. He made his way through the forest, making his way down embankments and crossing streams as he continued deeper than he’d ever ventured before.

As he stopped to catch his breath, he could hear voices in the distance.

“I think he went this way!” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened. Baek-hwa and his friends had followed him?! Looking around, he saw a small opening under a tree sitting atop the embankment he was currently at the bottom of. He scrambled up, making his way over and peered inside. He couldn’t see much but hoped for the best as he removed his bags and stuffed them through the opening before pulling himself up using the roots of the tree.

He slid into the opening feet first and wiggled into the space. It seemed to be some sort of den. Most likely abandoned but he didn’t dwell on it, instead kept himself hidden as he peered out into the forest. He heard footsteps overhead and ducked back into the safety of the small cave waiting for the pounding of his heart to subside.

He waited as the sounds of feet and voices continued around him. “Did you see which way he went?”

“No.”

“Maybe he’s hiding nearby.”

“Well we’ll never see him in the dark.”

“Maybe we should come back when it’s light out.”

“Enough,” a voice Jeongin recognized to be Baek-hwa’s snapped. “He couldn’t have gotten far,” he continued. “Spread out and find him.”

“How?” another voice asked. “With what light?” Jeongin guessed this voice to be Jae-song’s. It sounded like him anyway. “Here,” another voice said and Jeongin saw light flicker and dance outside the opening of his hiding place. Glancing back, he could barely see that this was indeed a den. He grabbed his things and scooted back further, hoping to stay out of sight.

He waited, listening patiently as footsteps trudged through the forest, twigs snapping underfoot.

He carefully crawled toward the opening and peered out. He could see two of the men standing nearby as they searched the area. “Find anything?” one of them called. “Nothing yet!” another voice called back. “This is so stupid,” one of the men said softly. “There’s no telling which way he went.”

The one that had spoken up before nodded in agreement. “I know,” he answered just as quietly. “But you know how Baek-hwa is. Ever since he saw Jeongin talking to Haneul, he’s just been set on making Jeongin suffer,” he added as he held his torch up, peering around a tree.

“I mean, it’s not like doing all this is going to impress Haneul,” he continued. “She doesn’t even like Baek-hwa.” The second man nodded as well. “I know! It’s like--”

What it was like, Jeongin didn’t get to hear as he watched a shadow cut across the small illuminated circle, passing both men. The second smaller one let out a grunt of pain and Jeongin watched in horror as blood spilled from his mouth, a look of pain crossing his features as he fell to his knees.

“Wonjae!” the first man said in shock as his friend collapsed, blood gurgling from his mouth. “What happened?” Jeongin watched as the shadow passed again, quick as lightning, passing the first guy who let out a choked cry of pain before falling to his knees as well, blood seeping through his shirt and he fell to the ground. Jeongin froze realizing he’d just watched something kill those two men.

‘What the hell?’

“Where are they?” called a voice, drowning out Jeongin’s thoughts. “Over here! Dabin! Wonjae!”

Jeongin watched as two more men entered his field of vision. “Are they okay?” one of them said as the other knelt down to check the bodies of their friends. “They’re… dead,” he said, his voice shaky. “D-dead?” the other stammered, taking a few steps back.

“What happened?” Baek-hwa’s voice called from somewhere above Jeongin’s hiding place. “They’re dead!” the one kneeling beside Wonjae and Dabin’s bodies called back. “Shit,” Baek-hwa cursed. “Get down there and help them get the bodies,” he instructed someone Jeongin presumed was beside him.

Jeongin watched as two more men appeared and helped pick up the bodies of the two men and carry them away. He listened as the footsteps retreated and pulled back as the area was thrown into darkness once more. He listened as the sounds of the forest came back and he could finally rest.

He tried to get some sleep but his mind wouldn’t stop. ‘What was that shadow? Was that what killed those men?’ He tossed and turned until he finally managed to pass out.

The next morning, he awoke to find light creeping into the cave and he could finally see. It wasn’t a huge den, maybe only big enough for a family of foxes or so. He had enough space to sit up. He could tell it wasn’t dug out by whatever previously lived here. Perhaps it was naturally occurring.

He gathered his things and left the safety of the den, squirming his way out of the opening and could see that it had rained the night before. He pulled a flask from his bag, filling it with water before he placed it back and stood up, slinging both bags over his back again. He started the way he’d been going the night prior, moving deeper into the forest.

He continued as the sun rose, stopping briefly to have something to eat before continuing on. He didn’t see Baek-hwa or his assailants again as he continued on. He noticed how the terrain started to slope up and he knew he must have reached the base of the mountain. If he could reach the otherside, maybe he could find another village where he could set up a new homestead.

He continued on, stopping when he heard a twig snap from behind him. Turning quickly, he expected to see Baek-hwa or his men. He was met with nothing. He couldn’t see anyone or anything other than the trees for that matter. Perhaps he was hearing things?

He turned back and continued forward. He’d only gone a few more steps when he heard another snapping twig. He froze again, turning his head around to see what was following him but again, he saw nothing. He turned back forward, but instead of taking another step, he waited. Waited for something else.

Another twig snapped, this time closer but instead of looking, Jeongin stayed still. He kept calm, listening as soft steps carried toward him. He spun quickly, catching sight of what had been following him. His eyes widened as he made eye contact with it.

‘A fox?’ he thought to himself. Looking back at him was a small fox with black fur and golden eyes. He stared back at it, expecting it to run but instead it stared back at him. He watched in awe as it took a tentative step forward, still keeping its eyes on him. Jeongin slowly knelt down as the fox approached, holding out his hand.

The fox looked at his hand and then up at him before its head turned slightly to look at something behind Jeongin. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He tried to turn to see what was behind him but he felt a blow to the head and everything went black.

You looked down at the man, the branch in your hand as you breathed heavily. “Oh my god,” you whispered as the realization of what you’d done crept over you. You tossed the branch aside and looked back down at him. Looking at Clover who looked up at you, golden eyes judging you. “I’m sorry!” you said holding your hands out. “Look, I panicked! I thought he was going to grab you!”

The fox rolled its eyes and you looked away, back at the man lying unconscious at your feet. “Should we take him?” You looked back at Clover who stared back at you unblinking. You nodded. “Right. Leaving him here would be bad. Got it,” you said as you brushed your hands together to get the dirt from the bark off. Clover watched as you reached down, sliding your hands under the man’s arms and lifted, starting to drag him along the ground.

You heaved and pulled, panting as you did only to receive more judging looks from Clover. “Look,” you panted. “You could help me, you know.” Clover rolled their eyes again before the vision of the fox spun and morphed into a man. “I don’t know what you’d do without me,” he said as he waved his hand, the man’s body lifting from the ground.

You smiled at the wizard and dusted your hands off again. “Thanks, Clover!” you chirped as he shook his head. You led the way, skipping along the path as the man’s body floated behind you with Clover bringing up the rear. 

You skipped faster as the cabin came into view. “Almost there!” you called out to your friend who rolled his eyes as your chipper demeanor. “You know,” he said as you started up the path leading to the door. “For someone who is so violent, you sure don’t act it,” he continued, guiding the man’s body after you.

“I’m not violent!” you called back as you reached the door and unlocked it, pushing it open and holding the door so Clover could guide the man into the room. “Just put him on the bed,” you said softly as Clover guided the man’s body over to the bed where he hovered for a moment before falling haphazardly on the mattress. “Careful!” you chastised, rushing over to sort out the man, moving his head and arms so he wouldn’t be sore when he awoke.

“You hit him over the head with a log and you’re telling me to be careful?” Clover chuckled as he stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest. “What a strange person you are, Y/N,” he added.

You stood up straight and turned towards him. “Well, I must be off,” he said, standing up straight. “Will you be alright, alone here by yourself?” he asked. You shook your head. “Right, just hit him with another log if he gives you trouble,” Clover said with a smirk. Your smile fell. “I. Panicked, okay?”

Clover nodded, waving before exiting the open door. You rushed over to watch as he headed down the path, turning once to look at you waving at him. He raised a hand before turning into a raven and taking flight into the sky. You shut the door and locked it before turning your head to look back at the man on your bed.

“Alright,” you continued, taking a deep breath and walking over, placing your hands on your hips as you took a good look at him.  “Now, just who are you?”

Jeongin woke to the sounds of light clattering and the scrape of metal against metal. His head was throbbing. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust. He turned his head, wincing at the pain that followed. He was inside a cabin of sorts.

He could see shelves with books upon books and a desk that was cluttered and covered with papers, writing implements, and an assortment of herbs and rocks. He tried to sit up but his limbs felt heavy. He looked down and noticed a strange purple aura encasing him.

“What the-”

“Oh, you’re awake. Good,” said a voice and Jeongin looked up, seeing a figure by the hearth where a fire was crackling, heating up a large cast iron pot. The smell of meat and vegetables reached his nostrils and he took a deep inhale. Whatever it was in the obvious cauldron smelled amazing.

“Where am I?” he asked as the figure turned their gaze away from him and stirred the contents of the pot.

“You’re in my cabin, what a silly question to ask,” the figure said with a chuckle. Jeongin watched as they set the spoon aside and moved towards the bed. Jeongin looked up as they approached and took a seat beside the bed. “What have you done to me?” he asked as the person, he could now see was a female, looked over him, gently turning his head and prodding the tender spot.

Jeongin winced and the figure grimaced. “Sorry,” she said. “I hit you over the head.”

Jeongin looked up at her. “You what? Why the hell would you do that?!” he yelled.

You moved your hand, your finger moving in a quick circle and Jeongin felt his jaw snap shut.

“Don’t yell,” you said as you grabbed a basket with some medical supplies in it. “It’s rude.”

‘Well, so is hitting someone over the head,’ Jeongin thought since he couldn’t talk.

“My name is Y/N,” you said as you pulled out a small vial. “And I hit you over the head because I thought you were going to hurt my friend.” You looked down at him and Jeongin felt his heart skip a beat. Your eyes. They were a bright golden yellow. Much like that fox from before.

“Do you remember the fox?” you asked and Jeongin nodded as he watched you pull the cork on the vial. “That’s my friend Clover. I thought you were going to grab him and hurt him. Foxes aren’t exactly revered around these parts,” you explained as you turned the vial over, allowing some to spill onto a cloth.

You set the vial aside and leaned forward, holding out the cloth only for Jeongin to shy away. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “I know your head hurts. This will make it not hurt.” Jeongin hesitated, allowing you to gently press the cloth to his head. He winced but soon, the pain as well as the throbbing went away and he looked up at you in shock.

You winked at him, placing the cork back in the vial and returning the little glass to the basket. You waved your hand and freed his mouth. “Who are you?” he asked softly. You looked down at him unblinkingly. “I’m Y/N,” you said plainly. “I already said that.” Jeongin shook his head.

“I meant like… who are you? Are you like… a witch?” he asked to which you laughed. “I’ve been called that before,” you answered with a nod. “But more importantly,” you said, leaning forward. Jeongin was unable to pull too far away due to whatever spell you had his body under.

“Who are you?”

Jeongin cleared his throat. “I’,m uh… I’m Jeongin.”

You sat back up straight. “Jeongin, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head. He nodded, glancing down at his body still shrouded in the purple aura. “What is this?” he asked, nodding towards the aura. “Oh,” you said suddenly, waving your hand and it disappeared.

“I just did that while you were out and I was busy cooking so you didn’t try to sneak up on me,” you explained as you started to stand. Jeongin moved quickly, sitting up and grabbing your arm but you were quicker. You managed to roll, pulling him off the bed and pinning him against the floor, his arms pinned to his sides by your legs as you straddled him, your forearm pressing against his throat.

“I’m not your enemy,” you explained softly. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try to hurt me.”

Jeongin tapped the back of your calf, surrendering to your power.

Just as quickly as you were on him, you got up and held out a hand, pulling him up when he took it. “Let’s eat,” you chirped and walked over to the fire. Jeongin stood hesitantly. “Sit,” you instructed and he did as you said, moving to take a seat at the table. You grabbed a bowl and picked up the ladle, scooping stew into the bowl before moving to set it on the table.

“It’s hot, so be careful,” you said as you filled another bowl and took a seat across from him.

Jeongin watched as you picked up your spoon and took a bite. “It can’t be that hot,” he noted, to which you looked up. “Want me to throw it in your face and test that theory?” you asked with a smirk, tilting your head. Jeongin’s eyes widened and he quickly picked up his spoon, shaking his head.

“N-no,” he stammered before digging in.

He could tell there was meat and potatoes, maybe some cabbage and rice but it was delicious. He scooped another spoonful into his mouth. “S’good,” he said as he ate and you smiled, turning your attention back to your own bowl.

Jeongin had forgotten the last time he had a proper meal and ended up eating three bowlfuls of stew. You reached to take his empty bowl but he stopped you. “You cooked,” he said before getting up. “Tell me where to go and I’ll clean them.” You smiled but ignored his comment, taking his bowl.

“You’re still injured,” you explained. “Go lay down, let me deal with this and then I’ll look at your wounds.

Jeongin watched as you headed out the door and instead of laying down, he started to poke around the cabin, inspecting your belongings. He was used to the small huts in the village where he lived. Nothing this extravagant. Wooden doors that locked, windows with decorative frames were things he’d never seen in person, only ever heard of.

The cabin was one room, like his had been but it was much cozier. There were no cracks for the wind to sneak into, the roof was sturdy wood and slanted to allow rain to run off. There were four windows, two on the wall by the door, one on the outside window and one on the back wall over the desk, framed by shelving. The fourth wall wasn’t made of wood. It was made of rock.

‘It must be partially built into the mountain,’ Jeongin noted as he stared. The bedroom area was almost entirely encased in rock. It was unlike anything Jeongin had ever seen. It was an extremely clever idea as well. Using a cave as part of your dwelling. If only he had known to do so.

On the other side of the stone hearth was a large wooden cabinet with doors and shelves stocked full of cheeses, sealed bottles, breads, small bowls with salts and other spices. Hanging from an iron circle suspended from the ceiling were various dried herbs and even some small game. Rabbits and birds mostly. He inspected the mantle and noticed a couple portraits and a small trinket box. 

He moved over to the desk, fingers brushing over the papers on the surface as he inspected them. There were a lot of maps. Maps he didn’t recognize, not that he was knowledgeable of maps to begin with. He looked up at the shelving, inspecting the books and their titles. He expected to see this sizable collection in a palace or something, not here in a cabin in the forest, built into the base of a mountain.

Jeongin turned as he heard the door open and you returned with two clean bowls and spoons.

“Having fun snooping?” you asked with a smirk. Jeongin opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water trying to explain but you shook your head. “I saw you through the window,” you explained, pointing to the window opposite the rock wall.

“I’m not mad,” you continued. “But I really do need to inspect your wounds.”

You led him over to the bed and he sat down. “I don’t have any wounds,” he protested but you made him lie down and lifted his shirt. “Your wounds are internal,” you explained as you gently prodded and massaged his side, making him wince. “You’ve got a fair amount of bruising here and here,” you said, also placing your hand over his stomach just over his navel.

“Were you in a fight?” you asked bluntly. Jeongin froze, staring up at the rocky ceiling above. You waited for his answer but when he didn’t answer, you spoke again. “Did you at least get a few punches in?”

Jeongin chuckled, letting out a soft cry when the motion caused his sore muscles to tense him. “You’re asking me about my fight?” he asked. You nodded. “Whoever did this packs a wallop. So I hope you got a few licks in, too.”

Jeongin smiled as you rubbed some kind of ointment and the soreness and tenseness in his muscles dissipated. “You’ll have to apply this until the bruising clears up,” you explained as you rubbed some more on his stomach.

Jeongin held his breath as your hand traveled dangerously close to his waistband. “Two times a day,” you added as you pulled your hand back, wiping it on a cloth and placing the lid back on the small metal tin and handed it to him. Jeongin sat up and took the tin from you. “What is it?” he asked.

“An ointment to help with soreness and bruising,” you explained as you gathered your supplies and set the basket aside. “I made it myself.” Jeongin opened the tin and held it up to his nose, sniffing it. He smelled mint but couldn’t tell what else was in it.

“What’s in it?” he asked, placing the lid back on it and looking up at you.

“Just some herbs,” you replied. “I’ll tell you how I made it tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

You got up and paused when he grabbed your wrist. Looking down at his wrist and then up to meet his gaze, Jeongin managed to blurt out “thank you.” The smile you gave him was one he’d never seen before, not even from the old woman in the village he traded furs for shirts or her granddaughter, Haneul.

“You’re welcome,” you answered and Jeongin let go of your wrist. “What about you?” he asked as you moved over to the desk. “I can sleep on the floor,” you said as Jeongin set the tin of ointment on a small table beside the bed. “What?” he said suddenly. “No,” he continued. “This is your bed. I’ll sleep--”

He didn’t get to finish his words as you turned in your chair and waved your hand at him. “Sleep,” you said sternly and Jeongin passed out, unable to fight the darkness as it passed over him, taking him deep into slumber.

The next morning, Jeongin awoke to find himself in bed but the cabin otherwise empty. He sat up, looking around and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Lifting his shirt, he saw that he indeed had some heavy bruising from Baek-hwa and his friends’ punches.

He dropped his shirt as the door opened and you entered the room, smiling when you saw he was awake. “Morning,” you said as you carried something in your arms. “Or should I say good day,” you continued as you carried the sack over to the table and set it down.

“Let’s have a look at those bruises,” you said as you walked over and took a seat beside him. Jeongin lifted his shirt for you to inspect. “Make sure to apply that ointment,” you said as you gently poked around the edges of the bruising. “It’ll make a huge difference in healing.”

You got back up and headed for the table as Jeongin picked up the tin and opened it. He scooped a small amount and started to rub it into his skin as you opened the sack. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, looking up occasionally as he applied the ointment.

“I went hunting,” you said nonchalantly. Jeongin looked up at the rabbits hanging from the ceiling. “What about those?” he asked, nodding towards the rabbits. “They’re small and we need more meat if you’re going to heal properly. Protein speeds up the healing process,” you explained as you pulled small game from the sack.

Jeongin finished applying the ointment and wiped his hand off on the same cloth you used the night before and got up, walking over to the table. He was surprised to see what you managed to catch. “Hunting and fishing?” he asked as he noticed the fish basket.

“I’ve been gone all morning,” you replied. “Up before the sun, in bed after it sets,” you explained. “Making the most out of every day. That’s what Clover taught me.” Jeongin smiled as you added the rabbits to the iron circle. “The fish has to go outside,” you explained and picked up the basket.

He followed you as you headed outside and over to a wooden rack where you had some fish already hanging. “How does fish tonight sound?” you asked, turning to look at him. Jeongin nodded silently before you turned back to the rack and hung up all the fish.

“I also need to go foraging,” you said as you walked back towards him, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading into the cabin. “Want to come with me?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded. “Sure,” Jeongin said, stepping aside as you entered the cabin.

“Good,” you said and grabbed a sack. “Make yourself useful,” you added as you tossed one to him.

The hike to the spot was a short one and Jeongin was shocked to see the size of it. Not only were there even more berries than at his favorite spot but there were more types as well as all kinds of fungi. He watched as you pulled a small bag from your pocket and moved over to one of the mushrooms.

“These are really good when you fry them,” you explained as you picked them and placed them in the bag. “They’ll need to soak for a few hours but we can have them with our fish.”

Jeongin looked around and moved to one of the bushes. “Are these okay?” he asked, pointing to the berries. You turned to look at him and nodded. “Not too many though,” you instructed. “Maybe a sack,” you added. “There are smaller bags in the large sack I gave you.”

Jeongin dug through the bag and found one before starting to pick berries and fill the bag. Once it was full, he tied it off and picked a few berries to eat. “And those?” he asked, pointing to another bush. You nodded without looking. “All these berries are good to eat,” you replied. “Just a small bag each. I like to make wine with them,” you explained.

Jeongin got to work, collecting berries as you foraged for mushrooms and other plants. When the bags were full, Jeongin insisted on carrying both but you refused, reminding him he was still healing. The walk back, you asked him about his life, where he was from, where he grew up, what his childhood was like.

When you broached the subject of parents, Jeongin shut down as you walked up the path to the cabin. “Touchy subject?” you asked, unlocking the door and letting him in. Jeongin nodded, handing you the bag and watching as you moved to the cabinets. “I lost both my parents,” he finally answered.

“My mother left when I was young and my father died when I was fifteen. I’ve been on my own ever since,” he explained as you started to store the food you both collected together. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I lost my parents to disease when I was young. I was raised by Clover,” you explained, shutting the cabinet doors.

“The fox?” Jeongin asked, making you chuckle. “He’s a wizard,” you reminded him. “He was in fox form while we hunted that day. He’s awfully quiet in that form,” you explained. Jeongin grimaced as you turned to him, setting the bags of berries on the table.

“So he raised you?” he asked and you nodded. “Taught me everything I know. Built this cabin and left it to me when I came of age.” Jeongin looked around. “Makes sense,” he said softly. “I’ve never seen a cabin like this before,” he explained. “That’s because it was built with magic.”

Jeongin smiled as you set the empty bags away, hanging them on hooks.

“I have some work to do in the garden,” you announced. “Would you like to join me?” Jeongin nodded with a smile. 

“I’d love to.”

After a quick lunch of leftover stew, Jeongin helped you in the garden, pulling weeds and pruning the bushes and vines. His garden was small but this garden was twice the size. It had everything from cabbages to potatoes and even pumpkins.

“This is a huge garden,” he noted as he dropped another cabbage in the basket. “Even for two people.” you nodded as you pruned a tomato plant. “I sell whatever I don’t need,” you explained. “Never hurts to have a little extra coin,” you added with a wink.

As the two of you finished up, Jeongin looked at you. “Where do you sell this stuff?” he asked as you gathered one of the baskets. “At a village on the other side of the mountain,” you replied. Jeongin rounded on you, holding the other basket. “On the other side of the mountain?” he asked incredulously. You nodded with a laugh and beckoned him to follow you inside.

Once inside, you stored your harvests away and led Jeongin over to the desk and pulled out a map from under the stacks of paper. “This is a map of this region,” you explained. Jeongin looked over it in awe. He’d never seen more than a map of the village and the forest. Your map had so much more on it.

And it was so detailed.

“Here’s the village you told me about and based on your descriptions, your cabin was around in this area,” you explained, pointing out spaces on the map. “Here’s where we are,” you continued, pointing at a small red x on the map. “The village I sell at is here,” you added, pointing to a black x on the other side of the mountain range.

“How long does it take to get there?” Jeongin asked, looking up at you. “Well, if you go around the mountains, it can take months,” you answered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “But I use the mountain pass so it only takes a few days,” you added, pointing to two lines drawn over the mountain range connecting the two sides. “Who made this map?” Jeongin asked in amazement.

“Clover,” you answered, standing up straight. Jeongin followed your movements, standing upright as you walked over to the hearth and added a couple logs to the dying flames. “He makes maps of all the regions,” you added. “He’s a traveling wizard and cartographer,” you added as Jeongin stared at you.

“He stopped for a while to raise me here,” you explained as you stood up, brushing your hands off. “But now that I can care for myself, he’s back to traveling again, making amendments to his maps.” Jeongin shook his head as you moved over to the bedroom area, grabbing a small basket from the shelf.

Jeongin looked around the cabin. “So, now what?” he asked as you sat down on the armchair. You looked up at him. “Now we rest,” you replied with a smile. “It’s too soon to have dinner and I have some knitting to get done,” you continued, pulling out a project you must have been working on for a while.

“You can read any of the books if you’d like,” you said, nodding towards the shelves. Jeongin shook his head, instead grabbing one of his bags and opening it. He sifted through it until he found what he was looking for. The journal he’d been reading. He settled down on the bed, propping the pillows up against the wall so he could sit up against them.

Jeongin read as much as he could, absorbing his mothers words. He had reached the part of her journals where she had met his father and it was so enchanting to read about his father through his mother’s eyes. He discovered a new side to his father he’d never known. The romantic side.

Their courtship was long according to her and she initially rebuffed him as he was a human but he eventually gained her trust and she warmed up to him. After which, they got married, something Jeongin had never known. He thought it had been a short affair but the time and effort they put into their marriage told him otherwise.

He also learned that his parents had a hard time conceiving a child and that Jeongin was from their sixth attempt. He was the only one that made it full term.

Jeongin dropped his hands into his lap, the journal falling with it as he stared at the wall. You looked up at him. “You alright?” you asked, noticing he seemed catatonic. When he didn’t respond, you set your knitting aside and got up, moving to sit on the bed. “Jeongin?” you asked, waving your hand in front of him. That seemed to snap him out of it and he looked at you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. He nodded, clearing his throat and looked down at the leatherbound book in his lap. “Yeah, I just uh…” he trailed off before looking back up but not at you. He seemed to be looking past you but not at anything in particular. More like he was staring off into a place you could not see. “Jeongin?”

“I have siblings…” he finally said softly and your brows rose in shock. “What?” you asked.

He turned his head to look at you. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Random thought.”

You glanced at the book. “What are you reading?” you asked. Jeongin glanced at the book and closed it, keeping his thumb between the pages. “It’s private,” he explained. “Sorry,” he added. You shook your head. “No need to apologize,” you replied. “I meant no disrespect nor was I meaning to pry. Simply curious,” you explained.

Jeongin glanced down at the book again before taking a deep breath. “It’s a journal,” he finally sighed. You waited for him to continue. “It’s my mother’s journal,” he clarified. Your eyes widened. “Oh,” you said softly, uncertain of what else to say. “And you’re just now reading it? I’m not judging by the way,” you said quickly. Jeongin simply chuckled before setting the book aside and scooting off the bed.

You watched as he grabbed one of his bags and walked over, opening it for you to see the contents. Inside were a dozen or so leather bound books, all of them identical. You looked up at Jeongin in bewilderment as he set the bag down and joined you on the bed.

“My mother kept extensive journals all throughout her life. She left them with my dad when she left,” he explained. “Dad kept them for me so I could get to know her if she never came back. I think he knew she wouldn’t come back,” he continued sadly. “I’ve been reading them since my dad taught me to read.”

You looked back at the bag. “How many are there?” you asked, looking back at Jeongin. “Around fifty,” he answered, a hand reaching up to scratch his brow. “I’ve read about twenty of them so far.” Your eyes widened as you looked back at the sack lying unassuming on the floor.

“What’s in this one?” you asked, tapping the cover of the one on the bed before you froze. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “That’s none of my business,” you continued. Jeongin shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, grabbing the book and opening it. “In this one, she met my dad,” he explained.

“She details their courtship and marriage,” he continued, flipping through the pages. “She wrote that it was a huge ceremony and that the reception lasted well into the early hours of the next morning and that they were both so exhausted from the party that they never actually consummated their marriage during the ceremony,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled fondly, watching him look over the words on the page.

“What was your mother’s name?” you asked, drawing his attention. “Well, dad never told me her real name. He knew her as Eun-soo but while she was in Japan, her name was Yuki. So I’m not entirely sure what she was really called,” he continued.

You looked at him again, studying his features. The fox-like eyes, the orange irises, his blond hair. It suddenly made sense to you. He was like you. He was fox-folk.

“Was your mother a kumiho by any chance?”

Jeongin was caught off guard by the question. He’d never been asked so directly about it before and as he looked up, his eyes met your golden ones and he knew instantly why you were asking. It was like a switch went off in his head and suddenly everything made sense. 

Your golden eyes, the magic, being raised by a wizard. Well, maybe the last part wasn’t really all that related but in his mind, it still helped him to put the pieces together. You were like him, too. You were fox-folk.

“A…are you?” he asked softly, holding your gaze. He could tell by the way your eyes widened slightly that he was on the right track. “Or was one of your parents?” he continued, setting the journal aside. You nodded slowly. “Both of my parents were fox-folk,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin leaned forward. “Both?” he asked in amazement. You nodded, shifting to face him. “Yeah,” you replied. “That’s amazing,” he breathed. “So you’re pureblooded?” he asked, to which you nodded. “Wow. I’m only half,” he replied. “Probably why I can’t do any magic,” he added with a chuckle.

You tilted your head at his comment. “All fox-folk can perform magic,” you said, drawing his attention again. “Wait, really?” he asked. You nodded, grabbing the journal from his hands and setting it aside. “Have you ever tried?” you asked. Jeongin shook his head no, watching as you pushed your sleeves up.

“It’s easy,” you explained. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Oh sure,” he retorted but you pushed him gently. “I promise it is,” you replied. “It’s so simple, really. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Jeongin watched as you scooted onto the bed beside him, crossing your legs and resting your back against the wall. You closed your eyes, adopting a sort of meditation position. Jeongin watched but when you opened one eye to peek at him, you nudged him and he sighed, adopting the same position.

“Deep breath in,” you said. Jeongin followed your lead, breathing in slowly and deeply, filling his lungs. “And out,” you said and the two of you breathed out in unison. “Now, visualize a fire,” you said softly. “A fire? Why a fire?” Jeongin asked. “Ow,” he whined when you lightly slapped his hand.

“Okay, okay. A fire. Got it,” he said. “Wait, what color is it?”

“Whatever color you want it to be.”

Jeongin closed his eyes again, picturing a fire in his mind. Something bright and pink. “Now, imagine how it feels. Is it hot? Is it cold? Does it burn or does it tickle? Does it smell pleasant or is it rancid?” Jeongin imagined the fire was cool to the touch and it felt like the fluttering of wings. It had no smell.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what?” he asked, opening an eye. “Hold your hand out,” you instructed. Jeongin closed his one eye again and raised one of his hands. “Place it in my hand,” you continued and he did as you said, placing his hand in yours, palm up.

“Now imagine your fire and imagine it’s in your hand. Concentrate and picture your fire in your hand.”

Jeongin focused all his energy, holding his breath as he pictured the pink, cool, fire that fluttered. “Don’t forget to breathe evenly,” you reminded him. “Breathing is important.” He resumed breathing as he focused all his mental strength on the fire. He sighed, keeping his eyes closed.

“This is dumb,” he said. “I can’t do magic.”

“Is your fire pink and cool to the touch?” you asked softly and Jeongin hesitated. ‘Wait… is mind reading one of the abilities of a full-blooded kumiho?’ he wondered. “Uh, yeah. But how did you know that?” he asked. “Open your eyes, Jeongin.”

He did as you instructed and was met with your face drenched in the pink glow of a fire in his hand. The pink fire he’d imagined. He looked back up at you and then down to the fire in his hand. It was dancing, fluttering against his hand. “Are you doing that?” he asked and you pulled your hand away, conjuring up a bright blue flame. “I take it that’s a no?”

You laughed and the fires both extinguished as Jeongin lost focus. “I told you that you can do magic!” you said excitedly, slapping his knee and then pushing yourself up and climbing off the bed. Jeongin looked down at his hand, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

“I’ll get dinner started,” you said as you moved towards the door. “Keep practicing,” you said before opening the door and heading outside. Jeongin kept at it, conjuring a pink flame, making it dance and crawl around his hand as you prepared the fish for dinner. While it cooked, you made a side dish with rice and some of the mushrooms you’d picked earlier.

When it was ready, Jeongin joined you at the table and the two of you ate in silence. “Thank you, Jeongin said suddenly, making you look up, eyes wide and bewilderment on your face. “For taking me in after you bashed my head in,” Jeongin continued. “For caring for me and teaching me magic.”

Your expression morphed, a smile spreading across your face. “I couldn’t leave you out there after I hit you with the branch,” you explained. “Clover would have but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I left you to the elements. And besides,” you continued. “It’s nice having some company that isn’t Clover for once.” 

Jeongin looked down at his food, cheeks growing warm.

“You know,” you said, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “If you want to stay longer, you’re more than welcome to,” you added. “I really enjoy your company.” Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. You nodded, smiling at him. “But you might have to get used to sharing a bed,” you said. “There’s not enough room in here for another bed and I refuse to let you sleep on the floor,” you added.

Jeongin’s cheeks grew even warmer at the thought of sharing a bed with you but he played it off.

“Sure,” he said softly. “No problem.”

It was indeed a problem he later discovered. While the bed was big enough for two bodies, it wasn’t big enough for two bodies and a space between them. Jeongin wanted to respect you and give you as much space as possible but with the size of the bed, it put him right on the edge of the mattress and in danger of falling off.

The next day consisted of about the same routine, some foraging but in a different spot. You taught Jeongin all about the herbs and weeds you used to make ointments and medicines, showing him what cured certain ailments. Afterwards, he helped you on the other side of the garden where the bee boxes were and held the jars for the honey while you handled the bees.

The day after that, you took him fishing with you and he was impressed by the spot you had. No one else was around and as you sailed out on the lake in a boat you proudly told him you helped Clover make, the two of you sat in silence, rods propped up while you knitted and Jeongin read more of his mother’s journal.

He’d made it to the part where she was pregnant with him and close to her due date. She wrote how she knew he was a boy and how she knew he was going to take after her in both looks and mentality. Jeongin checked his fishing rod before returning to his reading. He heard you clear your throat and looked up to meet your gaze.

“So what else does she say?” you asked, nodding towards the journal in his hand. “Oh,” he said softly. “She’s pregnant with me in this part,” he explained. “She wrote about how she knew I was a boy and that I would take after her,” he continued. You smiled at him as you tied off and wove the yarn tails into the scarf you were making. “She also says she got a letter from a woman named… Anitta?” he said and looked up at you.

You merely shrugged and set your knitting needles aside, picking up the scarf and throwing it around his neck. “There,” you said with a smile. “It’s done.” Jeongin’s cheeks burned as he looked down at the soft garment. “It’s nice,” he said softly and started to take it off. “It’s yours,” you said, grabbing it and wrapping it back around his neck.

“I was going to give it to Clover but I figured I can always make him another and you need one now so,” you trailed off, smiling at him. Jeongin toyed with the material, cheeks burning as he tried to think of something to say before finally settling on a simple and soft thank you.

Fishing ended with the two of you catching a small basket of fish and Jeongin managing to catch a little crawfish which he promptly dumped back in the water. Once the boat was pulled ashore, the two of you headed back down from the mountain lake to the cottage to hang up the fish and settle in for the night.

You made roasted rabbit and potatoes and after dinner, you settled down with your knitting to start another scarf for Clover while Jeongin got to the end of his mother’s journal. He closed it, wrapping the twine back around it and got up from the bed, moving over to his bags.

He reached in for another, pulling the trinket box out so he could dig for the right one.

“What’s that?” you asked, looking down at the box. “Oh, just a box my dad made,” Jeongin said as he dug through the bag. “May I?” you asked, setting your things aside. “I’m kind of nosey,” you noted with a laugh. Jeongin chuckled and shook his head. “Go ahead,” he replied.

You grabbed the box and set it on your lap, opening and inspecting the contents.

The box was a beautiful dark wood with a soft lining. It was beautifully crafted and you wondered if Jeongin’s dad knew how much he could have made by making and selling these boxes. Inside the box were a few items, some of great value and others you suspected were more sentimental. There was a silver ring, a loose but rather large gem, some gold coins, and a silver locket. You picked up the stone to inspect and deduced it was a sapphire and was definitely worth a lot.

“This could fetch you a lot of gold,” you noted, holding up the stone for Jeongin to see as he looked up. “Dad found that,” he said, reaching up to rub his eye. “Found it while digging around the outside of our cabin to add to the garden when I was a kid,” he continued and held out his hand.

You placed the gem in his palm and he brought it to his face to look at it. “He thought the same thing,” he continued. “Thought we could sell it for some gold in case we ever needed it. I forgot it was in the box,” he added, handing it back to you to place in the box.

Next you picked up the silver ring. There was nothing of note about it. It was a crudely forged ring made of pure silver. “Oh,” Jeongin said, noticing the ring and grimacing. “Dad made that. Was trying his hand at smithing,” he added. “It’s ugly but he was proud of it. He made it himself without any help. He wasn’t much of a blacksmith. He was more of a carpenter,” he explained.

“Which is why the box is so nice,” he added, gesturing to the box in your lap.

You dropped the ring back into the box and Jeongin returned to his bag, digging for a specific journal as you lifted the silver locket. It was engraved with a simple fox head on both sides. You carefully opened it and smiled at the first portrait. It was of a young child with light hair. There was no mistaking this was Jeongin.

You turned the locket to look at the other portrait as Jeongin pulled the correct journal from his bag and his eyes fell on the locket in your hand. The other portrait was of a woman. An all too familiar woman. She had the same blonde hair Jeongin had, the same fox-like eyes. It was his mother.

“Oh, that’s,” Jeongin darted forward, his hand closing around the locket and closing it before he took it from your hand. “That’s my dad’s. Was my dad’s.” he said softly, looking at the silver locket. You shut the trinket box and handed it back to him. “Sorry for prying,” you said softly as he took the box.

“No, it’s okay,” he said as he brushed the silver surface with the pad of his thumb. “I honestly forgot this was even in there,” he added as he looked up and gave you a sad smile. “She’s very pretty,” you said softly, drawing his attention. “Your mother,” you clarified.

You tilted your head, offering him a playful smile. “I guess you’re pretty, too,” you added, noticing the way he averted his eyes and his cheeks turned peach. He opened the box and placed the locket back inside, closing the lid and setting back with his things.

After he read a bit more and you started to yawn, you called it and set your knitting aside. “It’s going to storm tonight,” you said softly as you got up. “I’m going to put the covers down on the windows so it doesn’t rain in.” Jeongin watched as you exited the door and returned to his book as you disappeared.

Outside you undid the hooks holding the covers up and let them down into place, securing them with the wooden rods that slid through two rings on the side of the cabin as well as a ring on the end of the shutter. 

Clover had done some interesting things when building this cabin but as odd as they were, they worked. You placed the covers for the other three windows down, locking them in place as the wind picked up. 

You also grabbed the cloth Clover had for covering the garden and hooked it in place with the four hooked stakes in the corners of the garden. You repeated the process, covering the bee boxes before gathering all the fish and bringing it inside to hang up by the fire.

As you closed and locked the door, you could hear thunder in the distance and Jeongin looked up from his mother’s journal. “We’re safe here, right?” he asked and you nodded, moving to stoke the fire and then joining him on the bed. “This is probably the most stable building in the region,” you explained as you settled down on the side of the bed you’d claimed and looked up at him.

“You can stay up if you want,” you said, shifting, pulling the covers over you, and getting comfortable. “Just try to keep the noise down,” you added with a wink which made Jeongin crack a smile. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll try.”

You shut your eyes and tried to focus on sleeping.

But you couldn’t. Your mind was full of the portrait in the locket. You rolled onto your back and sighed, opening your eyes and staring at the cave ceiling. Jeongin didn’t seem to notice but when you sighed again, he looked up. “You alright?” he asked and you took a deep breath before sitting up and turning to him. “I need to tell you something,” you said, taking his journal and setting it aside.

Jeongin looked from the journal to you as you took his hands in yours.

“What I’m about to tell you might sound outrageous but keep in mind I’m much older than I look because as you said before, I’m pureblooded fox-folk.,” you started. Jeongin met your gaze and nodded slowly. You took another deep breath before explaining.

“Your mother’s name was Keiko. She was from a small island off the coast of Japan. The locals there called it Fox Island. She came to this land as a child with her mother to live in the palace of the king centuries ago. Her mother was a highly sought after healer and the king’s wife was incredibly sick.”

Jeongin said nothing as you continued.

“When your mother was nearing maturity, her mother overheard a plan to marry her off to the king’s son but her mother had heard that the first prince was a cruel man who abused those around him. She did not want your mother to suffer at his hands so she ran away, taking your mother with her. They left the palace and ran and ran until they reached the coast, hoping it would be far enough away that the king’s men would never find them.”

You cleared your throat and continued the story.

“Your mother continued to live on the coast, in a small fishing village for many many years and eventually, she grew into a great beauty. Many men tried in vain to marry her but her mother drove them all off. When her mother finally passed from old age, your mother left the village and traveled inward, hoping enough time had passed that the king was no longer looking for her and she was right.”

“The king and his son had both since passed and a new ruler was on the throne. Your mother traveled the land until she found this region and moved here, settling down in a cave in the mountains. Rumors circulated of a great beauty that lived in the mountains but some of those rumors painted her out to be an enchantress that devoured the souls of men. It was here my mother met her,” you explained, watching Jeongin’s eyes widened but he said nothing, allowing you to continue.

“Your mother and my mother became good friends and then… I came along and I can remember how your mother doted on me. She wanted a child of her own but she had no luck in finding a husband. It was when she’d given up hope of ever having a child that she met your father. I was a young child by then but I still remember the day she came to us, announcing she had found someone,” you said with a smile, remembering back to that day.

“My mother and father were so thrilled she’d managed to find someone who loved her. Someone she could start a life with. She wrote to my mother, telling her of the ceremony and the time after. She shared her troubles conceiving with my mother in those letters. And then, she got pregnant. And it lasted,” you said softly, looking up from your hands to find Jeongin’s eyes filled with tears.

“She gave birth to a healthy baby boy and she named him Jeongin. She wrote how she was so in love and she’d never known a love like that before. The love of a mother. She loved you so much,” you said softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. This pushed him over the edge and a small sob escaped him, the tears finally falling. You pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Why did she leave?” he whispered into your shoulder. “She had to,” you explained, gently stroking his hair. “The people in the village branded her a witch and she feared if she did not leave, they would come for her. So she left you with your father and she went north,” you continued. “I’m sure it was her intention to come back but I don’t know much else,” you added.

You continued to stroke his hair, rocking him gently as he sniffled. “Sorry I got snot on your shirt,” he said softly. You chuckled, patting his head. “It’s okay,” you replied. “I’ve had worse things on my shirt before,” you added as you pushed him back, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I just needed to tell you because if I didn’t, it would eat me alive.”

You pulled him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You deserved to know the truth about her. She was a remarkable kumiho. I really looked up to her,” you added. Jeongin smiled, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “And who knows,” you said suddenly.

“Maybe she left some clues in her journals as to where she went.” Jeongin looked down at the journal and then back up at you. 

“Then I better get to reading, I guess.”

After the talk, it must not have taken you long to fall asleep because you were woken by the sound of thunder.

Your eyes opened and you noticed that it was mostly dark, save for the fire in the hearth. You peered over your shoulder to find Jeongin had finished his reading and gone to sleep as well. You lay back down, closing your eyes but another clap of thunder sounded and the rain whipping against the side of the rain made you realize what had actually woken you and it wasn’t the storm.

It was the way Jeongin shook each time the thunder clapped or the shutters rattled against the windows.

He’d told you how his home was battered by storms and he wasn’t able to keep up with repairs as he wasn’t a carpenter like his father. He said he’d grown accustomed to the fear that at any moment, the entire hut would collapse, trapping him inside.

‘He’s probably terrified out of his mind right now,’ you told yourself.

You turned over, eyes finding Jeongin curled up in the dark beside you. Sitting up, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” you asked softly over the sound of the rain battering against the roof. Jeongin rolled back to look up at you. “Sorry,” he said just as softly. “It’s just the storm…” he trailed off.

“I have… bad memories.”

Your expression softened as you pulled the covers back and gently grabbed his arm. “Come here,” you whispered, tugging him towards you. Jeongin followed, allowing you to pull him into your space where your arms went around him protectively, his head ducking under your chin and into your chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

You gently stroked his hair, humming softly as you tried to drown out the sounds of the storm. Your humming turned into singing, trying to lull him to sleep. “What is that?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth of your night shirt. “It’s a song my mother used to sing to me,” you replied, continuing to stroke his hair. “It sounds familiar,” he continued.

You nodded silently before speaking. “Your mother probably used to sing it to you when you were a babe,” you answered. “Most fox-folk know the song.”

Jeongin fell silent, tightening his hold on you as he nuzzled further into your warm embrace.

“Do you feel better?” you asked softly, smiling when he nodded. “Good,” you whispered, tilting your head to press a kiss to the top of his head. Jeongin pulled back to look up at you. Neither one of you said anything, staring at one another until he finally made the first move, closing the distance and pressing his lips against yours.

Almost as quickly as it happened, he pulled back, stuttering apologies and trying to explain himself. You cut his words off, taking his face in both your hands and pulling back in for another kiss. He relaxed under your touch, lips pressing more firmly against yours as he leaned into the kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” you said when you pulled back. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Jeongin pulled you back in for another kiss, more hurried and rushed this time. You didn’t fight it when he pushed onto your back or when he climbed over you, never breaking the kiss as he settled between your parted thighs.

You sighed against his lips, almost moaning when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth. He moved his hands, sliding them up to your cheeks and pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes looking between yours. “For what?” you whispered, placing one of your hands atop his.

“For saving me,” he continued, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I now know it was you that killed those guys following me.” You stared up at him. “I’ve had time to think about it and it makes sense,” he added.

“So thank you for taking me in and for protecting me.”

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down into another kiss. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured between kisses. “I’m sure you would have done the same in my position,” you added. Jeongin shook his head. “I’m shy and antisocial,” he replied. “I wouldn’t have gotten involved.” You pushed him back slightly so you could see his face.

“You’re not antisocial,” you countered. “You were tormented and abused. There’s a difference.”

Before Jeongin could say anything else, you interrupted with another kiss.

You rolled over, pinning him against the bed as you straddled him, directing his hands to your waist as you continued to kiss him. You felt him tense under you as you rolled your hips, grinding against the growing bulge in his pants. You pulled back to look at him, noticing the look of hesitation on his face.

“Was that too far?” you asked, fearing you may have crossed a line and moved to climb off him but his hold on your waist tightened. “No,” he croaked. “It’s just that…” his voice trailed off as he swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve never… I’m a…” he was failing to form a complete sentence but you knew what he was saying.

You cupped his cheek tenderly. “You’ve never done this, have you?”

He shook his head and you smiled warmly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Do you want to stop?” you asked and watched as he contemplated it. Just when you thought he was going to say yes, he surprised you by shaking his head. “No,” he finally answered.

“Don’t stop.”

You pressed your lips against his, taking the lead. Your hips rolled slowly, grinding against him, eliciting the sweetest moans you’d ever heard come from a man before. “You sound so sweet,” you whispered, lips brushing against his cheek as you moved to whisper in his ear. “So innocent,” you continued, kissing down the side of his neck.

Jeongin let out a moan as you nipped at his neck, smiling before pulling back to look down at him. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked, slowing your movements, enjoying the desperate way Jeongin whined and pulled at your hips, urging you to move.

“Y-yes,” he whimpered. “Keep going, please,” he begged. Instead of doing so, you climbed off him, ignoring his protests and pleas as you tore the blankets back. “What are you doing?” Jeongin asked as you nestled beside him. “Just trust me,” you said softly, reaching to turn his head towards you, pulling him into a kiss.

With the distraction of your lips against his and your tongue slipping into his mouth, Jeongin didn’t notice the way your hand moved down his chest, slowly until he felt your palm against the bulge in his pants. Moaning into your mouth, one of his hands moved to grab yours but you pushed it away.

“Are you going to be a good boy or will I have to restrain you?” you asked darkly. Jeongin let out a little whimper and shook his head. “You won’t be good?” you asked, cocking your brow. He shook his head again. “I’ll be good,” he blurted out and you pulled him back in for another kiss, letting your hand wander again.

This time, he didn’t move, only moaning as you started to palm him through his trousers. Considering how hard he already was, it didn’t take you long to get him begging and whining for more, his hips bucking up against your hand.

You made quick work of his pants, untying the string and sliding your hand under the waistband, your palm coming into contact with the hot skin of his dick. Jeongin let out a soft whimper as your fingers wrapped around him. “Have you never been touched like this before?” you asked, watching his face as he shook his head.

“Not even by yourself?” you asked, tilting your head. He hesitated before nodding. “I’ve…” he swallowed thickly. “I’ve touched myself a few times,” he answered. Your smile grew slightly. “Do you want more?” you asked, watching the way his brow furrowed as you stroked him at an even pace.

“P-please,” he murmured, hips bucking into your hand. You removed your hand from his pants, moving and pulling his pants down, throwing them to the floor before climbing over and straddling his hips. Jeongin looked up at you as you leaned over. “Do you want to stop yet?” you whispered, your smirk growing even more when he shook his head.

You toyed with the hem of your night shirt, watching the way his eyes flickered from your face to your hands and back up. Finally, you decided to not tease him any more and lifted the material up over your head, dropping it to the floor and allowing him a moment to adjust to your nakedness.

His eyes were all over your form, taking in every inch of exposed skin. You took his hands and guided him to your waist. “You can touch me, you know,” you said softly, snapping him out of his trance. “O-okay,” he answered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the storm.

“Wait, I can?” he asked as if just registering what you’d said. You nodded instead of replying verbally and waited patiently as his hands moved of their own accord. His eyes followed the movement of his hands up to your chest, hesitating before cupping both your breasts.

His lips parted in awe as he gave a gentle squeeze.

He’d never done anything like this before. He had no idea what was allowed and what wasn’t or what felt good for you. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up to meet your gaze. You nodded, reaching one hand up to place over his, pushing his palm against your chest more firmly.

Jeongin groaned at the contact, eyes flickering back down to your chest. Without a word, he sat up, his hand under yours moving aside. You pulled your hand back as he leaned in, glancing up at you for permission which you gave in the form of a nod. His eyes fluttered shut as he took your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud.

You let out a sigh, combing your fingers through his hair as his tongue flicked against your skin. You arched your back, pressing your chest into his face as he gently sucked, letting your nipple fall from his mouth before repeating the same process on the other breast, one of his hands moving up to cup your chest. His other hand moved around to your back, hovering just above your ass.

You rolled your hips, brushing your sex against his cock and making him gasp. Your fingers in his hair tugged, tilting his head back to look up at you as you rolled your hips again. “How does that feel, sweetheart?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

“S’good,” he moaned, his hands grabbing your hips, trying to guide your movements but feeling unsure of what he was doing. “You want me to ride you, little fox?” you whispered, leaning in so your lips brushed against his. He gulped loudly. “Y-yes,” he pleaded. “I wanna feel you.”

You took him in a messy kiss, tongue dancing against his. “You wanna feel me? Feel me from the inside?” He nodded quickly, eyes sliding shut as you rocked your hips, grinding against his cock, coating it with your arousal.

“Wanna fill me with your cock?” you purred. Jeongin let out a choked moan as you ground harder against him. “Fuck! Y-yes, please!” he whimpered.

You reached down to grab the bottom of his shirt, tugging it off him and letting it fall to the floor as well before placing your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress. You allowed your eyes to scan his body, taking in his lean frame as you lifted your hips.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” you asked as you reached between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand and giving him a couple of strokes, coating all of his cock with your slick. He nodded urgently, biting into his bottom lip. “I need to hear you say it, Innie,” you cooed, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance. He nodded again. “Yes,” he finally managed to croak out.

“I promise I’ll be good.”

Without another word, you sank down on him, his cock gliding easily as your walls welcomed the intrusion. Jeongin let out a long groan as you enveloped him completely with a sigh. You felt him twitch inside you and you leaned over, placing your hands on the mattress on either side of his head.

“You promised you’d be good,” you said, meeting his gaze. He nodded, blinking slowly as his hands moved to your thighs. “I promise,” he whispered. “Then you can’t cum yet,” you replied, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “You have to wait until I say you can cum,” you continued. “Can you do that for me, baby boy?” He nodded again. “Yes, I c-can,” he answered.

You slowly raised your hips before sinking back down on him, his cock burying into your cunt. Jeongin moaned against your lips, fingers digging into your skin. “Feels s’good,” he muttered as you set a slow, steady pace, hips rising and falling, driving his cock repeatedly into your pussy.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, leaning over to kiss along his jaw, making him tilt his head, giving you more access to his neck. “Letting me fuck you like you deserve.” Jeongin whined in response, his hands moving up to your waist. “Mmore, please,” he begged, gasping when you obliged, your hips bouncing against his. “Shit, shit,” he gasped, fingers tightening around your waist.

“Wait, m’close!” he warned. You immediately stilled, his length buried in your walls. You raised your hand to push his bangs back from his forehead, leaning over to press a kiss against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praised as he came down from the edge.

“Filling me so well. Such a good little fox.”

Jeongin whimpered as you rolled your hips. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked sweetly. He shook his head. “Give me a moment more,” he murmured. You sat up, moving your hands to his chest, sliding them down to his stomach and back up past his shoulders and onto the mattress.

“Do you want me to stay on top of do you wanna take control, little fox?”

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. “I can take control?” he asked softly. You nodded. “You want to try that?” He nodded hesitantly, hissing as his cock slipped out of you.

You pulled him on top as you laid back, your thighs wrapping around his waist. He looked down at you, cheeks burning as he took in your fucked out expression. “Go ahead,” you urged.

Jeongin looked down, eyes widening slightly as they landed on your glistening sex. “It’s okay,” you added, drawing his attention. “Take your time.” Jeongin took himself in his hand, guiding the tip to your slit, watching as the head of his cock slipped past your folds, finding your center easily.

He groaned, watching as your walls sucked him in until his hips met yours. His eyes moved up, meeting yours as he tried to control his breathing. “I don’t…” he trailed off. “Just follow your instincts,” you said gently. He nodded, taking a deep breath before pulling his hips back, watching your face as he snapped forward. You let out a moan, eyes rolling back.

Taking that as his cue to keep going, he repeated the action, quickly setting a steady pace. It was different than when you were in control, he was able to drive his cock deeper into your walls, making you moan louder than when you’d been on top.

“F-feels s-s’good,” he stammered, his head falling into your chest as he continued to thrust into you. “Ah~ fuck, that’s it, Innie,” you encouraged him. “Keep going.” Following his instincts, like you’d suggested, he cupped his hand against the back of your thigh and pushed your leg against your stomach, sinking his length further inside you with a groan.

“S’ so deep,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. Jeongin kept his eyes open, watching to watch your face as he fucked you. He’d never seen someone so beautiful before. “Faster,” you gasped. Jeongin complied, his thrusts gaining speed. “Oh f-fuck,” he groaned. “M’gonna cum.”

You took him by surprise, rolling him onto his back during his momentary lapse in control. Without giving him a chance to regain the upper hand, you took his hands and pinned them against his head. “Gonna cum already, little fox? I thought you’d last longer,” you said with a scoff. Jeongin whimpered, his cock twitching as his orgasm impending as you rocked your hips with renewed vigor.

He tried to pull his wrists from your hands but your grip was too strong. “Don’t fight me for control,” you said, leaning over to kiss him. “You gonna cum for me? Can’t even wait for me to say you can cum. Pathetic,” you scoffed. Jeongin bucked his hips up to meet yours.

“Please,” he begged. “Let me cum.” You shook your head. “Only good boys get to cum,” you retorted. “You haven’t been good.” Jeongin shook his head. “I have been good!” he argued, moaning at the end of his protest. “I’ve been good,” he repeated.

“Please let me cum, Y/N.”

You chuckled, slowing your movements, holding his wrists tighter when he protested.

“Such a greedy little slut. Wanting to cum first,” you snapped, rolling your hips. “F-fuck Y/N, m’gonna cum. Shit, shit, shit,” Jeongin whined, hips bucking up as his orgasm washed over him. You slowed your hips as his cock twitched, Jeongin releasing inside you with a whine.

You sighed, your hips coming to a stop as you looked down at him. “Couldn’t even wait for me to finish with you,” you said softly. Jeongin opened his eyes. “S-sorry,” he stammered. “I tried to stop but it just felt so good.” Your lips twitched into a smirk. “It’s okay,” you replied, releasing one of his wrists to cup his cheek. “But now you’re gonna have to lie there and let me finish,” you continued.

Jeongin looked up at you, leaning into your touch. “That’s okay,” he replied, letting out a gasp as you rolled your hips, his cock still lodged inside you. “You’re in for a long night, little fox,” you said softly, taking his wrist and pinning it again before sliding your hands to lace your fingers with his as you continued to rock your hips, feeling him slowly start to get hard again.

“A really long night.”

Jeongin awoke the next morning to the smell of meat and opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep and allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight that filtered into the cottage.

He rolled over, peering at you by the fire, cooking breakfast. He stretched his arms, whining at the soreness in his muscles. You chuckled as he pushed himself up, realizing he was shirtless. You, on the other hand, were fully dressed. “What happened last night?” he asked, reaching up to scratch his head.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten,” you said as you plated breakfast and walked over to the bed. Jeongin felt heat rise in his cheeks. “No,” he answered as you sat on the edge of the bed, presenting him with a plate. “I just forgot how many times,” he murmured, adding a thanks at the end.

You chuckled as you dug into your own food. “More than a few,” you answered. Jeongin looked up and then out the window. “How late is it?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not that late, It’s not even noon,” you replied. The two of you ate in silence, Jeongin thanking you again as you took his dirty plate.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked, noticing they were not on the floor where you’d left them the night before. “I washed them first thing this morning,” you answered. “They’re probably dry by now,” you added and headed out the door to retrieve them.

Upon entering, you handed the clean clothes to Jeongin who dressed himself in silence. “What do you plan to do?” you asked softly as you stoked the fire. Jeongin looked up and then down at his hands. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’d like to go find my mother,” he added.

You turned to look at him, a warm smile on your face. He got up and walked over to where you stood, his hands resting on your waist and pulling you closer. “But part of me wants to stay here with you.” You smiled, eyes shutting as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Stay here and maybe build a life with you.” Your heart swelled at the thought but it was quickly deflated by another thought.

“I think you should follow your heart,” you finally said, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead and turn away. Jeongin opened his eyes and sighed. He looked around the cottage and then at his bags on the floor near the table where he could see one of his mother’s journals peeking out at him.

His mind was made up for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Do what you have to do,” you added. Jeongin turned you to face him, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I will come back,” he said softly, eyes flickering between yours. “I promise.”

With his rucksack packed full of supplies you could spare and a map in hand, you pointed him in the right direction. Jeongin pulled you in for one last kiss, resting his forehead against yours for a few moments after. “I mean it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “I will come back. Regardless if I find her or not.” You nodded, smiling and keeping the sad feeling lingering in your stomach at bay.

“Be careful,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. Jeongin pulled away and started through the forest in the direction you’d pointed him. The last place you’d heard his mother had been spotted. North towards Mongol territory. As he reached the edge of your property, he turned to look back at you.

He raised his hand, waving which you returned and watched as he turned back and slowly disappeared from sight. With a sigh, you continued to stare after him. “You better come back,” you whispered to yourself, moving your hand to rest against your stomach.

Smiling to yourself you turned away and headed back into the cottage to tend to your chores, hoping Jeongin found what he was looking for sooner rather than later.

He only had nine months after all.

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[kiss4noo]

𝓗is palette ! . ˚ ౨ৎ ⊹ 

꒰ 🎨 ꒱ 𝒩ishimura ℛiki [니키] : 𝒪neshot!

𝓰enre. soulmate au, fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ 𝓹airing. non-idol,,artsy ni-ki x artsy fem reader. ໒꒱ 𝔀arning(s). bumping into each other cliche meets classmates 2 lovers. 𝔀ord 𝓬t. 869

𝓼ynopsis .ᐟ in which people see the world in shades of black & white until making contact with their soulmate.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝓶i 𝓷ote. remember, this is a work of fiction. i did not proofread, so please excuse any mistakes.

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

NISHIMURA RIKI was the quiet, loner type at decelis high, considering the fact that his best friends were all upperclassmen that had since graduated. he often sat by himself during lunch period, headphones on blast as he drew in his small sketchbook. his art was beautiful to anyone who had the privilege to see, yet it lacked one element; color.

the boy greatly envied those who had gained their palette, straight from the source of interacting with their soulmate; to which he had yet to meet. at least that’s what he believed, since he’d never came in physical contact with them.

currently, he was sat beneath a tree in the courtyard, hoping to sketch the scenery of campus, humming along to a track playing in his ears. his legs were entirely outstretched, laid before him as he used his thighs as a surface to draw upon.

a figure, obviously in a rush, had approached with hurried steps through the grass, tripping over his limbs with a soft ‘oof’. glancing up in surprise, riki’s gaze met the back of your kneeling figure. he recognized you immediately, as you shared multiple art classes throughout the years, and many labeled you as the campus sweetheart.

but…

wait, your outfit was a different sprawl of hues from the generic blacks and whites that he could see. in fact, his view was anything but grayscale. he assumed that you’d realized the same, your head tilting a few degrees in curiosity as you stared at the green grass beneath your palms.

pulling himself from the initial shock, the boy removed his headphones, placing them and his sketchbook aside to help you gather what had fallen from your grasp, knelt beside you.

“are you okay, y/n?” the boy questioned, his fingertips grazing yours as you’d reached for the item. when your eyes met his, he felt the air leave his lungs, your features far more angelic than people had described. his sight was one that people would’ve fought for, and yet he had the privilege to witness you in such beautiful color. your expression mirrored his, the honey of his skin, the blush of his lips– it was an exquisite change, leaving you in awe.

“y/n?” his voice drew you from the daze of his beauty, causing your eyes to flutter in rapid blinks that showcased your nerves.

“s–sorry, riki.” you murmur, reaching to take your sketchbook from his hands, only for him to pull it back. leaning your upper half forward, you found yourself a mere few inches from him– your breath mingling with his.

“y/n.” riki called with a low tone, causing you to gulp, averting your gaze. his fingers reached up, gently caressing your chin as he turned your head to meet his eyes.

“why were you in such a rush, bunny?” he questions, his brows furrowing in worry of any possible injury you may have gotten. flustered by the pet name, your cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink, catching his interest as he waited patiently for a response.

“well.. well i wanted to..” you begin, stumbling over your words in embarrassment. you were actually on the search for him, hoping to find a vantage point in which you could draw him for the day. your fingers reached to grasp at the sketchbook, your name sprawled across the front; only for riki to cheekily grin at you.

“what’s in here, hm?” he questions with a playful wiggle of his brows, glancing down at the sketchbook to flip the front page.

“w–wait!” you attempted to protest, only for his lips to part in surprise, having found a drawing of… himself?

“y/n…” he whispers in disbelief, his eyes casting between the drawing and you, his gaze landing on the paper once more. his fingers gently flipped through the pages, finding a multitude of sketches you’d made of him; most of them during lunch period, where he peacefully sat alone.

“oh, pretty...” he murmurs, folding the sketchbook shut before placing it aside, practically tugging you onto his lap. “stop admiring from afar.” he mutters, pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, to which your skin flushes even further. he was honored to have been the apple of your eye, as you were his.

after all, his staring sessions during class were rather obvious to everyone but you.

“riki!” you squeal in shyness, hands pressed against his chest as he lovingly smothers you.

“see, it's a sign that you should’ve joined me all along, baby.” he coos, glancing up at the sky and pointing with his index finger; the colors sprawled across your vision as you turned your head.

“not only can you see colors, but you have me to grace your presence.” he grins at you, ticking your sides as a giggle falls past your lips, your gaze returning to his.

“oh, yippie!” you sarcastically respond with a playful smile, earning a gasp of feign hurt from the boy; to which you place a gentle kiss to his lips.

now it was his turn to be flustered, your action catching him off guard before he pulled you in once again, your smiles meshing as you expressed your affection, no longer hidden.

ⓘ all content posted to kiss4noo is not to be plagiarized, translated or reposted.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ 𝓽aglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Preparing for Battle

Summary: It's that time of the month, but Jensen's ready to battle with you.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader (You)

Warnings: None. Fluff. Jensen comfort. Implied smut.

Word Count: 616

A/N: So, I got this sort of request from a dear, sweet anon who I always love to see in my inbox. But she's ailing a bit because being a woman sucks sometimes. So, I wrote something that I hope will comfort and cheer her. ❤️ I wrote it pretty quick so it could get out to her, so sorry for all the likely mistakes.

A/N 2: Also, of course, as always this is a Jensen from within the multiverse who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction.

“Hey.” Jensen’s voice was soft and questioning as he came into your bedroom to see you sitting up in bed and crying.

He sat on the side of the bed, facing you, and noticed you were looking at your phone. He used his knuckle to brush a tear from your cheek. 

“Baby what’s wrong?”

He tried to see what was on your phone, so you showed it to him and he pressed play on the video you’d been watching. After viewing it for a minute he shook his head and looked at you. 

“Period started?” He asked. 

You nodded. “This morning.” You said with a sniffle. 

Jensen shut off your phone and hid it under your pillow. “Sweetheart, you know better than to watch ‘soldiers coming home to their dogs’ videos when you’re on your period. They make you cry at the best of times.”

You brushed your tears away. “It’s just proof, you know, of how pure their little puppy souls are.” The tears started again in earnest and Jensen reached over to grab you a tissue.

As you blew your nose, he kissed your forehead. “Okay, well I’m off work for the next few days, so be prepared for pampering.”

You shook your head. “Jensen, you don’t have to do that. You’re home to relax after working for two weeks straight, I don’t want you to-”

He cut you off and jumped up from the bed. “Nope, too late.I’ll be back in under twenty minutes.”

And like a flash he was gone, leaving you slightly flummoxed. 

True to his word he was back fifteen minutes later, hauling four overloaded bags into the bedroom. His smile was broad and happy. He began plucking things out of the bags and tossing them onto the bed.

“Okay, I got…chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.”

Every brand of chocolate bar, some with nuts, some with caramel, some with nougat, landed unceremoniously on top of the blanket.

He continued, pulling out a heating pad. He lifted it up. “A new one of these bad boys because the ancient one you inherited from your mom is bound to burn the house down one of these days.” He dropped it and dug into the next bag.

“Chips! Etcetera.” He said, pulling out a ridiculous amount of salty snacks, including pretzels and popcorn. He brought out a six pack of ginger ale. “For the nausea. Ooh!” 

He raised his finger and then dug in another bag, taking out two boxes of Midol. “But also this, for all the other shit that comes along with mean Aunt Flo.”

You giggled. “Aunt Flo?” 

He grinned and shrugged. “That’s what the women in my family called it.”

He finished emptying the bags, adding gummy bears and worms, chamomile tea, trashy magazines and 2 quarts of ice cream to the pile surrounding you. 

Then from the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled out a little paper bag, and inside were two small bottles of massage oil. He held them up and gave them a little shake. 

“Also, apparently massage is supposed to be very helpful.”

He brought them over and set them on the table beside the bed. He slipped out of his jacket, tossing it over the chair in the corner, and you sighed, admiring the way his black t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, and pulled tight across his biceps.

Sitting down on the side of the bed again, he leaned forward and kissed you slowly. You let out a small whimper and Jensen moaned lightly and pulled back, letting his forehead rest against yours and speaking roughly.

“Apparently orgasms also work really well on cramps.” 

You laughed breathlessly. “Well, put away the ice cream and let's find out.”

Tags under the cut.

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @lastcallatrockysbar @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7

@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @libby99hb @k-slla @leigh70

@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2 @fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @nancymcl

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Your father starts to suspect that Leon is involved with the attacks on the hikers, causing you two to get into a heated argument that leads to your father kicking you out. Lucky for you, Leon welcomes you into his home with open arms

Word Count: 7.3k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, period cunnilingus/s3x, somno, dubcon, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

This part does contain period cunnilingus, s3x and somno. I have marked the beginning and end of this segment with ✧⭒⭒✧ that way you can skip it if that is not your thing

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

“Do you want to press charges, Leon?” Chief Bob asks as he walks back into his office, sitting behind his desk.

“No, it’s fine Chief Dion. It was clearly just a misunderstanding,” Leon replies; both of you are sitting on the bench across from Chief Bob’s desk again, both his arms wrapped around you.

“Alright,” Chief Bob says with a nod, “I had one of the EMTs run him over to Speare Memorial Hospital to get his nose checked out, then he should be fine to be released. Now then, tell me everything leading up to when you found Nate."

Chief Bob pulls out a notepad and both of you explain to him the events leading up to when you found Nate. You recall the two college boys that you had encountered on the trail when… when Leon was kissing you. How they didn’t smell what you smelled is beyond you. Your mind wanders back to that moment at the Basin, Leon’s muscular body pinning you to the fence while he practically devoured you. You can still feel the traces of his hands roaming down your body to settle onto your waist.

And now, he has you wrapped in his embrace as his fingers comb through your hair. You take deep breaths, taking in the smell of his cologne and his leather jacket.

“I want to thank you both for your bravery in finding Nate. I can’t say I blame those two boys you saw for not checking out the smell. I know that must have been a traumatic experience, but the information you provided will aid in the investigation into what attacked and killed him. You’re both free to go.”

“Thank you Chief Dion,” Leon replies, standing up, taking you with him, “let’s get you home, angel.”

Angel. He’s been calling you that ever since he kissed you. You thought him calling you sweetheart made you flustered; angel is on a whole new level. It makes your heart practically pound out of your chest. Back out in the parking lot, Leon opens the passenger’s side door and you climb into the Jeep while Leon walks around, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“My car is still at your house…” you say as you put on your seat belt.

“I know, it’s fine. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. Right now I think home is the best place for you.”

“Thank you, Leon.”

The drive from the police station to your house is about five minutes. In the back of your mind you wonder how Leon knew where you lived without you telling him, but you’re way too exhausted to question it. Leon pulls into your driveway and both of you get out, which puzzles you because you figured he is just dropping you off.

“You’re coming in?” you ask, tilting your head as you both walk up to the front door.

“Yeah, I figured I’d at least apologize for breaking your Dad’s nose.”

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle as you open the front door, leading Leon inside your house. Your mother, standing in the kitchen, looking out the window over the kitchen sink, looks at you and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness you’re ok! When Terry at the police station called, we were worried sick-- where’s your father?”

“He uh…” you begin, but Leon finishes your thought.

“There was a slight misunderstanding between himself and I at the station and we got into a fight. I may have accidentally broken his nose defending myself.”

“Mick attacked you?!” your mother exclaims, clearly mortified, “oh my god Leon I’m so sorry! Please, have a seat at the dining table, let me at least treat you to dinner.”

“Ma’am I promise you it’s fine--”

“You’re better off just letting her feed you, she won’t stop until you do,” you tell Leon with a giggle. 

Leon lets out a chuckle, turning his attention back to your mother, “alright. I’d love to join you for dinner.”

“Go ahead and have a seat at the table, Leon. Hopefully Mick comes back and can fire up the grill for some burgers,” your mother says as she takes a bag of frozen french fries out of the fridge.

You and Leon sit at the table next to each other, Leon’s hand rests on top of yours, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. As if on queue, the door to the garage suddenly opens, your father walking in. He appears to have some kind of cast on his nose. 

He stops dead in his tracks upon seeing Leon seated at the dining table next to you, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

“Mick!” your mother scolds him as she gets the fries laid out onto a cooking sheet, “get the grill fired up so we can have some burgers. It’s the least you can do for attacking him.”

Mick groans, walking over to a plate where your mother had already made some beef patties. He looks over at Leon, narrowing his eyes at him.

“How do you want your burger, Leon?”

Leon looks over at your father, smirking at him, “as rare as you can make it, please.”

“Jesus… ok…”

Your father grabs the plate, opening a drawer to grab grilling supplies before heading out a sliding glass door to the backyard. Meanwhile, your mother gets the fries into the oven, setting a timer before she takes a seat at the dining table. 

“So, Leon, what do you do for a living?” your mother asks, folding her arms in front of her.

“Well… I’m technically retired actually. I can’t go into too much detail because it’s classified but I used to be a kind of government agent,” Leon replies.

“You’re retired at 36? Good for you! You must get a pretty good pension then?”

Leon chuckles, his cheeks turning a touch pink, “you could say that, yes.”

You watch your mother glance where Leon’s hand is resting on yours, looking back to him and smiling, “is it safe to assume that you’re interested in our daughter?”

Leon’s hand immediately moves off yours, “ma’am I meant no--”

“Leon it’s fine, I’m not like Mick. It’s very clear that the two of you like each other. All I ask is that you treat her right.”

“Of course,” Leon replies, putting his hand back onto yours, making you blush a bit.

Your father comes back inside with the cooked burgers, setting the plate down onto the counter, “Leon’s barely cooked one is the one off to the side there.”

Your mother stands up from the table and begins putting the burgers together. Within a few minutes, the timer goes off letting her know the fries are done. She takes the fries out of the oven, plating them with the made up burgers. 

She starts by getting Leon’s plate to him, “here you go, sweetie.”

“Thanks ma’am,” Leon replies.

“Oh please, call me Sandi. There’s no need to be formal here.”

Once all the plates are distributed, both your father and mother seat themselves at the table. You take a bite of your burger, looking over at Leon as he bites into his. You notice as he bites into his burger that his canine teeth seem to be really long and sharp. Leon notices you looking at him, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head towards you in acknowledgement. You shake your head, drawing your attention back to your burger. You’re probably just imagining things from all the stress today.

You all eat in silence, watching your father shoot daggers in Leon’s direction with his eyes occasionally. When the two of you finish dinner, you quietly excuse yourself to your bedroom, Leon following close behind you. Your father begins to protest, but you watch as your mother smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand. You head up the stairs, the heavy footfalls of Leon’s boots following behind you. Reaching the top, you walk up to your bedroom, grasping the handle, hesitating momentarily before opening it.

“Excuse the decor, this room hadn’t been touched since I was in high school. I’m still trying to get all the posters down.”

“No judgment from me, angel.” you hear him reply, your heart immediately fluttering in your chest as you turn the knob to open your bedroom door. 

You walk into your bedroom, walking over to your bed and sitting on the side of it. Leon steps into the bedroom as well, closing the door behind him before walking over to the bed, sitting next to you. He turns towards you, his hand coming up to gently grasp the side of your neck, a playful smirk crossing his lips.

“Now then, where was I?”

Before you can even prepare yourself, Leon’s lips seal over yours, his hands grasping at your body as you shift yourself onto your bed even more. Leon wastes no time gently pushing you down onto your bed, caging you with his body as he continues to kiss you. His lips move from your mouth, to your cheek then finally trailing down to your neck. His name escapes your lips in a soft moan as your right hand runs through his hair. You feel his teeth gently graze your neck before he begins sucking love marks into the side of your neck. You can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of your own pleasure when Leon suddenly stops, staring down at you, his blue eyes so dilated that his eyes almost look black.

“I should probably get going,” Leon whispers, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead before he climbs off of you, standing back up.

“Do you have to…?” you ask, your voice pleading for him to stay as you sit up, once again sitting on the side of your bed.

“I do, I’m sorry angel. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up, I promise.”

You stand up, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around him to hug him. You feel him wrap his arms around your body, feeling his lips kiss the top of your head. After a few minutes, he lets go and both of you leave the bedroom, heading downstairs. You open the front door for him, both of you stepping out into the night. Leon leans down, giving you one last kiss on the lips before he turns, walking back to his Jeep, climbing inside and starting the engine. You lean against the threshold of the front door, watching Leon drive off into the night, your heart still pounding in your chest.

“How about that guy at the Basin today, huh Jake?”

Jake had been zoning out, staring at the small fire he and his best friend, Brad, had built off of one of the trails leading up to the summit of Mt. Liberty. His attention snaps to Brad, who has a shit eating grin on his face; he matches him with his own.

“Yeah dude, I thought for sure that glare was going to set us on fire. Do you think if we hadn’t said anything that they would have started fucking right there?”

“Oh no doubt,” Brad replies, grabbing a stick from beside him, using it to poke at the small fire, “you could tell she was really into it, too.”

For a few minutes, the two make small talk and crack jokes as they share a pipe filled with marijuana, each of them taking several hits on it. Brad suddenly stands up.

“I gotta take a massive piss, be right back,” Brad declares as he turns and heads into the depths of the woods. 

“Watch out for hiker-eating monsters, might take a bite of your dick!” Jake says with a laugh as he takes another hit from the pipe, blowing out a large cloud of smoke from his mouth. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up Jake!” Brad calls out to him from within the woods.

Jake snickers, clearly amused with himself as he takes a few more hits off the pipe. He can hear rustling coming from the direction Brad had went, but passes it off to just being Brad until--

“Jesus Christ what the fuck is THAT?!” 

“Brad?!” Jake calls out, reaching down to his bag to pull out a hunting knife and a flashlight, turning it on. 

Immediately Jake hears Brad screaming, his voice carrying further away from the camp, so Jake makes chase.

“Brad! Where are you?! Are you ok?!” Jake calls out continually as he runs deeper and deeper into the woods.

He suddenly stops in his tracks when he starts to see blood splattered all over the ground, his flashlight slowly making its way to the source. What the flashlight finally settles on is almost incomprehensible. It is a man, but… not. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of dark colored cargo pants with work boots. Dark veins sprawl across the exposed skin, but that’s not the weirdest part. 

Four claw-like appendages are coming out of the man's back and a long, scorpion-like tail moves back and forth. The man’s mouth is latched onto his best friend’s neck, clearly sucking the blood out of him as the flashlight settles onto the man’s face; the flashlight can be seen visibly shaking. The man has short blonde hair with piercing red eyes that immediately shift to focus on Jake. The man… no… the creature takes its mouth off his friend, revealing two long, sharp canine teeth, reminiscent of a vampire. Blood drips from the fangs and its mouth as it starts to grin at Jake; it’s tongue licking the blood off its fangs.

“Holy fucking shit…” Jake mutters as he starts to walk backwards away from the creature.

The creature suddenly lunges at Jake, causing Jake to stumble backwards and start running as fast as he can in what he believes is the direction he came from. Jake tries hard not to look back to see if the creature is pursuing him. Unfortunately for him, though, his foot gets caught on a tree root that is sticking out of the ground, his ankle making a loud pop sound as he’s thrown onto the ground. The flashlight and hunting knife slip out of his hands, landing several feet away, landing so that the flashlight is pointing backwards from whence he came.

Jake hisses, turning onto his back before sitting up to check on his ankle; it’s clearly either broken or severely dislocated. Jake can hear footsteps, his gaze shifting up as they approach. He watches as boots appear in the flashlight’s beam, and as the creature stalks closer, he sees that it's standing upright, its back claws flexing and tail swinging back and forth as it gets even closer; soon Jake can see blood has dripped down onto the creature’s chest, the black veins on its skin now appearing darker than they had earlier. The creature’s blood stained mouth is smirking at him.

The last thing Jake remembers is the creature descending upon him, its mouth latching onto his neck as its fangs pierce into his skin. His blood curdling scream cut short when his throat is ripped out. 

A couple days pass after you and Leon had found Nate dead, you wake up to get ready to go work at Leon’s house with the worst abdominal cramps. You almost roll out of bed, going into the bathroom after picking out your outfit for the day to find that you had unfortunately started your period and it had completely ruined your underwear. Sighing in frustration, you throw the underwear into the trash in the bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet to take some Tylenol for the cramps. 

After getting yourself cleaned up and dressed, you head downstairs into the kitchen to make yourself some toast for breakfast, clenching your lower stomach in an attempt to ease the pain, praying to every deity that the Tylenol would kick in soon.  

“Oh sweetie, you don’t look so good! Are you alright?” you hear your mother ask as she comes into the kitchen.

“Yeah I’m ok, I got my… you know… I just took some Tylenol so that should hopefully kick in soon.”

Your mother walks over to the radio, turning it on before she then walks over to the coffee maker, hitting the button on it so that it would start brewing. 

“So… what’s on the agenda today for my favorite remodeling couple?” your mother asks, giving you a playful smile.

You giggle, your cheeks turning red, “we should be finally finishing up the kitchen today. I think he wants to start the living room next.”

“Breaking news, authorities have now reported that two more hikers have gone missing in--”

“Mom, turn up the radio!”

Your mother turns her attention to the radio, turning up the volume.

“--Fish and Game officials have now officially closed all trails in Franconia Notch until the animal responsible can be found and euthanized.”

“Oh my god…”

“Quick let’s turn on Channel 9,” your mother says, grabbing your hand and leading you into the living room where she turns on the TV to the news.

“Good morning, New Hampshire. This just in, Fish and Game have just reported that two more hikers have been reported as missing. 22 year old Brad Shaw and 21 year old Jacob Duprey, both students at Plymouth State University were reported missing by University officials when they did not come back to campus for their classes--”

The picture of the two of them comes up on the TV, your eyes widen as you cover your mouth in shock.

“What is it, sweetie? Do you know them?”

“I didn’t know them, but Leon and I saw them the same day we found Nate dead on the Basin trail…”

“They should have closed the trails long before now… those poor hikers…”

Your father comes in, stopping to watch the news report playing on the TV, “Does anyone else think it’s odd that these attacks started happening shortly after Leon moved into Archie Mason’s place?”

Both you and your mother turn and look at your father; you raise an eyebrow at him, “Dad, you can’t be serious…”

“I am serious! The attacks started happening within a week of him showing up!”

“Dad, I saw Nate. There is no way a person could have done that to him!” you reply, raising your voice as you turn to face your father, approaching him. 

“Then what else could it be then, huh?! How else do you explain what’s going on around here? He has to be connected somehow!”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to see him!”

“Mick stop--”

“No Sandi, I won’t stop! There is something not right about him, I’m sure of it!”

“Honey now you just sound ridiculous…” your mom replies, stepping between you and your father, putting her hands on his shoulders. 

“When he broke my nose… I didn’t like the look in his eyes… it wasn’t right… something isn’t right, god dammit!”

“Dad, come on!” you say, throwing your hands into the air and turning to go back into the kitchen to grab your toast.

“You get back here young lady! We’re not done!” your father roars from the living room, your mother now physically restraining him. 

“I need to go to Leon’s house to work and you’re not stopping me,” you say, walking over to the coat rack next to the front door and putting on your denim jacket. 

“You walk out that door and you are NOT allowed back, do you hear me?!” your father’s voice booms through the house.

“Mick, what is the matter with you?!” you hear your mother interject.

As much as your father got on your nerves sometimes, the statement hit deep and it hit hard, causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes as you grab your purse. You walk up to the front door, hesitating for a moment before opening it. You blink your eyes shut, a tear running down your cheek as you wrestle with your conflicting emotions. Surely your father wasn’t being serious, right? You push the door open; as you step out you can hear your father shouting after you. You rush over to your car, whipping the door open and getting in just as your father bursts out the front door, his face red in rage as he stomps over, slapping his hands onto the hood of your car as you start it.

You immediately throw the car in reverse, backing out into the street and peeling off, your tires squealing on the pavement as you make the drive to Leon’s; at this point, tears are now streaming down your face. You could only hope that your mother could talk your father down. You get there in record time; it’s a miracle you didn’t run into any cops and get pulled over, however, you reckon they’re probably out looking for the latest hikers to go missing. Parking your car in its usual spot outside of Leon’s house, you go inside, dropping off your jacket and purse before proceeding to the kitchen.

Leon is already hard at work, installing the last of the kitchen cabinets. He hears you come in, he turns to you, giving you his trademark smirk that never fails to give you butterflies.

“Mornin’ angel!” he says, suddenly noticing your eyes are red and puffy, “hey… what’s wrong?”

You waste no time grabbing your paint roller and paint, pouring some into the pan before rolling the paint roller in it, “sorry… I got into a fight with my Dad this morning before coming here.”

“About what?”

You stop just before you begin to roll paint onto the wall, taking a deep breath before you reply, “about you. He thinks you’re somehow involved with the attacks on the hikers.”

Leon scoffs, “that’s ridiculous.”

“That’s what my Mom and I said, but he wasn’t having any of it. He said to me just as I was leaving that if ‘I walked out that door that I wouldn’t be allowed back.’”

Leon shakes his head, groaning in disgust, “I really don’t like how he treats you, angel.”

“I’m just hoping Mom can talk to him, get him to see just how ridiculous he sounded that way I feel better going home tonight.”

“Stay here tonight.”

Your eyes widen as you look over at him, “Leon, I can’t ask that of you.”

“It would make me feel better if you stay here tonight. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Leon, I'll be fine, I promise. My Dad would never hurt me,” you reply, focusing on finishing painting the last kitchen wall.

“You seem to be forgetting that your father tried to strangle me.” Leon said in a ‘as a matter of fact’ kind of tone.

The worst part is, he’s right. Your father had tried to strangle him. Your father has always been quick to anger but you’d never seen him lay a finger on anyone until that day in the police station. Your father was clearly becoming more and more unhinged; especially with this recent allegation that Leon is somehow involved with the hiker attacks.

“Alright… I’ll stay here tonight.”

Immediately you notice Leon’s whole expression light up before he returns his focus on the final kitchen cabinet. The two of you finally finish up the kitchen, it being late afternoon by the time you do so. Both of you work on moving the supplies into the living room, but as you start to pour more paint into the pan Leon stops you.

“Let’s call it a day, angel. We can start the living room tomorrow since you’ll already be here.”

You nod, putting the lid back on the paint, grabbing a nearby hammer to hammer the lid back down. You sense Leon walk up from behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He gently rocks you back and forth before placing a kiss onto your cheek.

“Want me to order us some pizza, angel?”

“That sounds perfect, Leon,” you reply; you can’t help but smile.

He places another kiss on your cheek before walking back into the kitchen, you hear him pick up the phone that’s hanging up on the wall in there and place an order for delivery. About 45 minutes later, the pizza arrives and Leon gets it, paying the delivery driver before coming into the living room with it while you relax on the couch, channel surfing on his TV.

“Go ahead and dig in, I have to check something in the basement really quick, ok?” he says as he sets the pizza box onto the coffee table, giving you a quick kiss on the top of your head.

You watch him go out into the hallway, approaching the padlocked door. He takes his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the padlock and opening the door, listening to him descend the stairs. There’s a part of you that wants to follow him into the basement, just to see what is down there, but you don’t, you remain on the couch as you open up the pizza box, grabbing a slice and biting into it. Some time passes, however, and Leon still hasn’t come back up yet. Before you can decide to go check on him, you hear him coming up the stairs, watching as he walks out, locking the door with the padlock before joining you on the couch. 

He positions himself so that he’s behind you, having you seated between his legs as the two of you lay on the couch, eating pizza and watching some sitcom that you landed on as you were channel surfing. Your lower stomach suddenly cramps up, causing you to visibly and audibly wince in pain.

Leon immediately notices, “you ok, angel?”

“Yeah sorry… this is probably too much information but I started my period this morning. The Tylenol I took this morning must be wearing off.”

“Oh you poor thing,” Leon whispers in your ear, his hand snaking its way to your lower stomach, massaging his hand into it as he gives you gentle kisses on the side of your neck.

Despite your cramps, his touch felt incredible and you find yourself turning into putty in his embrace. You’re suddenly startled by the sound of Leon’s phone ringing from the kitchen. 

“Something tells me that’s my father, I’ll go answer it.” you say as you get up off the couch.

“You sure, angel? I can get it,” Leon replies as he gets up, following behind you.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” you say, walking into the kitchen, picking up the ringing phone, “hello? Kennedy residence.”

“Of course you’re still at his house…” you hear your father say on the other end, you look over at Leon, giving him a slight nod to let him know your suspicions had been correct. 

“Hello to you, too, Dad,” you say, trying to make your irritation clear in your voice.

“You need to come home right now.”

“Really? Because I clearly remember you saying if I went to work this morning that I wouldn’t be welcomed back.”

“Well I’d rather you be here than with him. If you don’t come home, I will call the police.”

“Dad, you can’t call the cops, I’m an adult!”

At this point, Leon must have had enough because he steps up beside you, grabbing the phone from you, “if you call the cops, Mick, I will report you for making a false report. I used to be a cop; you can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”

He used to be a cop? you think to yourself, biting your bottom lip as you picture him in a police uniform. 

You can’t understand what your father is saying to him, but you can tell he’s yelling because Leon holds the phone about a half an inch away from his ear, closing his eyes and letting out a long exhale through his nose. 

“Well since you’re so keen on shoving your nose where it doesn’t belong, will you stop yelling at me long enough to explain?”

You watch as Leon brings the phone back to his ear.

“What I’m about to tell you does not get repeated under any circumstances or I will have you arrested. I am a government agent, not a retired one. The branch I work for is called the Division of Security Operations, specializing in dealing with Bio-Organic Weapons, B.O.W.s, and I’ve been sent here to locate and kill a B.O.W. that got loose and is now wreaking havoc on those hiking trails. There. Are you happy now?”

Your eyes widen in shock not only at Leon’s admission, but at the fact there is some kind of weapon… a monster, loose in the forest.

“Yeah I hope you’re fucking sorry,” Leon continues, “however she’s still staying with me. In fact, I might even have her move in with me, if she wants to, of course.”

Leon looks over at you, giving you a playful wink as you digest what he just said. You feel your stomach twist into knots. 

“Your days of controlling your daughter are over, you hear me? She and I will have a chat about her moving in and you’re going to accept whatever she decides to do. Take care of yourself, Mick,” Leon finishes as he slams the phone back on the receiver. 

The two of you stand by the phone in silence, your mind spinning.

“I know that was probably a lot to take in just now, but unfortunately the same applies to you, if you repeat that to anyone, I’ll have to have you arrested, too,” Leon says as he places his hands on your hips, pulling you gently to him.

You quickly shake your head, looking up into his ocean eyes, “o-of course not! I won’t say a word to anyone, promise!”

“Good girl,” he purrs, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips. 

After the two of you break the kiss, you continue, “do you really want me to move in with you? You don’t think that’ll be moving too fast?”

Leon smiles down at you, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life, angel.”

You gather that Leon can feel your hesitation, he wraps his arms around you in a protective hug, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“Stay here for a few nights, then see how you feel, how does that sound?”

“O-Ok… I can do that, Leon.”

Leon is in heaven, or at least as close to heaven as he’ll ever get. After getting his angel to stay with him at least a couple nights, he got her back into the living room and back onto the couch, where he has her between his legs, his arms wrapped around her as the both of them ate the pizza he ordered and mindlessly watched TV.

He was grateful that her father had called, having pulled the government agent story out of nowhere to get Mick off his ass, at least until he could find a way to get him out of the picture. He is clearly protective of his offspring and for Leon, that is a problem; he may have gotten Mick off his ass now, but it was only a matter of time before Mick would be back on it again. 

The subtle scent of blood lingers in the air, he smelled it as soon as his angel had come into the house. She didn’t have to tell him she was on her cycle, he already knew. He had to make an impromptu trip into the basement to quench his thirst because of it. As the night wears on, he feels her become totally limp in his embrace as sleep takes her. He takes the remote from her hands, flipping it to the news where they’re reporting on the two missing hikers from Plymouth State University. What would his angel do if she knew one of them was in the basement right at this moment, barely clinging to life to serve as his meal?

It was a good thing he grabbed the other hiker and brought him here as he watches the report that they’re closing all the hiking trails in Franconia Notch. He’d have to find another way to get his meals. He might have to expand his hunting radius but he’d worry about that later. Soft snores from his angel break his thoughts, he looks down at her, giving her a gentle smile. He slowly moves out from under her before picking her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style up to his bedroom. Once in his bedroom, he approaches the bed, gently laying her onto it. She stirs in her sleep, her eyes opening slowly.

“Leon?” her voice barely a whisper as she fights her fatigue.

“I just brought you up to the bedroom, it’s ok,” he replies, running his fingers through her hair, “go ahead and get yourself comfortable, I’ll just be in the bathroom for a minute.”

Going into the bathroom, he turns on the light and shuts the door behind him. Pulling off his shirt, he lets himself relax for a minute; the black veins slowly appear as they sprawl over his skin, his eyes turning red as he stares at himself in the mirror. He’s hopeful that he won’t have to hide his true nature from her for too much longer; once he gives her his gift, he’ll show her that he’s the perfect mate for her.

He inhales deeply, rolling his head; slowly the black veins start to disappear once more and his eyes are back to their brilliant ocean blue. Discarding his pants and boxers, he finds a pair of gray sweatpants, putting them on before opening the bathroom door back up and shutting the bathroom light off. He sees she’s under the covers, her shirt and pants laying in a pile next to the bed. He approaches the opposite side of the bed where she lay, getting himself under the covers with her, wrapping his arms around her as he closes his eyes.

✧⭒⭒✧

However, no matter how much he chases sleep, it never comes. The subtle scent of blood is still driving his hunger wild. Meanwhile, she is sound asleep on her side; he watches as her chest gently rises and falls with each breath she takes. He gingerly tosses the covers off of both of them, admiring her nearly nude form. He fought with himself for a moment, not wanting to feed off her to sate his hunger; then, he has an idea. 

He positions himself at the end of the bed, gently rolling her so that she’s on her back. Hooking his fingers onto the hem of her underwear, he slowly pulls them down off her, slipping them off her legs before tossing them onto the floor with the rest of her clothes. He gently parts her legs, taking a moment to admire her cunt; he practically salivates when he sees the telltale string coming out of her. He climbs on top of her, being careful not to wake her as he wraps his index and middle finger around the tampon string, slowly pulling it free. Once it’s out of her, he climbs off her, walking into the bathroom for a moment to discard it before coming back to her, nestling himself between her legs. The smell of her blood is overwhelming now as he brings himself within inches of her hole.

His fangs descend in his mouth, but he doesn’t care, she won't be able to see them in the low light, not like he can see her. He runs his tongue up her slit, his lips then sealing themselves over her clit as he gently sucks on the sensitive bud. He then slips two fingers inside her, curling them upwards inside her to stimulate her g-spot; he hears her moan softly, her hips gently shifting beneath him.

“Wha--” he hears her say as she rouses from her slumber, quickly realizing he is in between her legs, “L-Leon! What are you doing?!”

He unlatches himself from her clit, looking up at her and smiling while he continues to fuck her with his fingers, “shhhhh it’s ok… just let me take care of you. It’ll help your cramps, I promise.”

“But I’m on my-- oh my god…!” she attempts to protest, but is cut off by her own moan as she lays her head back onto her pillow.

He watches with delight as her hips move in time with his fingers digging into her, his pupils dilating as blood begins to seep onto his fingers.

“Doesn’t that feel good, angel?” he purrs as he slowly pulls his fingers out of her, taking a moment to clean his fingers off like a lollipop.

The sudden wave of euphoria hits him like a train; her blood tastes divine, unlike anything he has ever tasted ever since he was given his gift. Looping his arms around her thighs, his mouth dives back between her legs, his tongue forcing its way inside her. He lets out a low growl as her blood flows into his mouth, unable to contain himself as he fucks her with his tongue. Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair, pushing down so that he stays there; clearly she’s enjoying herself, much to his delight.

Her legs violently tremble in his grasp as she edges closer and closer to her release and he doesn’t relent, his nose pressing into her swollen clit as his tongue continues to devour her. With a loud cry, she finally comes on his tongue, a mix of her arousal and her blood flowing freely into his mouth, which he happily swallows. He reluctantly unlatches his mouth from her entrance, blood dripping down his lips and chin and onto the sheets. As much as he wants to lick her blood off his lips, he doesn’t, instead wiping it from his mouth on the back of his forearm before he proceeds to slip off his sweatpants, his erection springing free from its fabric prison.

He strokes himself momentarily before he settles his hips between her legs, pressing the head of his cock against her hole. Before he pushes himself inside her, her hand comes up, pressing against his chest to stop him.

“Do you have protection?” she asks, the nervousness clear in her voice.

“I mean, I have a 9mm in my nightstand…”

She playfully punches his shoulder as she giggles, “that’s not what I mean!”

He lets out a chuckle, clearly amused with himself, “unfortunately I wasn’t expecting you to stay the night, so I didn’t think to buy condoms, angel. We can stop now if you want to.”

Please, don’t say stop.

“Promise you’ll pull out,” she says softly, her arms caressing his biceps as she looks up at him longingly, "I want this… I want you…"

He smiles down at her, relieved, as he brings his hand up to caress her cheek, “I promise.”

She gives him a gentle nod, giving him the ok to continue, shifting his gaze down to where their two bodies meet as he slowly pushes himself inside her. It takes everything in him to take it easy with her, his primal need to breed screaming in his subconscious.

He stops about halfway inside her, looking back up into her eyes, “let me know if it hurts, ok?”

“It’s fine… it actually feels really nice. Keep going,” she replies, he smiles when her cheeks start to turn red; he loves how flustered she gets around him. 

He then continues to push himself inside her until he’s balls deep. He can already feel her squeeze around his cock; a miracle that didn’t make him cum on the spot.

“I’m going to start moving now, ready?” he whispers, stroking her cheek again to reassure her. 

He watches her nod again and he cages her body beneath him as he begins to thrust into her. He leans down, sealing his lips over hers, moaning into the kiss as her arms wrap around him. 

“Fuck, angel, you’re so fucking tight… you’re perfect…” Leon growls, his thrusts becoming faster and more powerful.

“Leon… oh f-fuck…! I’m… oh god…!” she cries out, becoming a moaning mess as he pounds into her.

With each thrust he feels the head of his cock kiss her cervix, driving his instinct to breed her wild. He sits up onto his knees, grabbing her legs and looping his arms around them as he chases his release. His angel cries out, feeling her grab his forearms as she cums on his cock. The feeling of her release nearly pushes him over the edge; he pulls out of her before that happens, giving himself powerful strokes with his hand before ropes of cum spill onto her stomach, marking her as his.

As both of them come down from their high, he stares down at her, admiring how lovely she looks covered in his seed, even though he’d rather have it inside her, leaking out of her hole. Subtle movement in his seed catches his attention; a larva from his gift squirming about. Before she has a chance to notice it, he reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing the box of tissues from it and pulling out a few sheets.

“Such a dirty girl you are, angel,” he coos, cleaning up his cum along with the larvae.

Thankfully, she's too cock drunk to even realize what he just cleaned up, her eyes closed as she takes deep, heavy breaths as her body trembles beneath him from her own orgasm.

He takes a moment to lick her blood from his hand while his angel’s eyes are closed. Standing up from the bed, he leans down and places several kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

“How was that, angel?” he asks, smirking.

He watches her eyes slowly open, looking at him with complete admiration as she continues to take deep breaths, “that was perfect. You were right, it did actually help with the cramps.”

“It’s like I know what I’m talking about,” he replies with a chuckle as he gently coaxes her out of bed by taking hold of one of her hands, “come here, angel, let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep, hm?”

The two of them go into the bathroom, Leon making sure to toss the tissue into the toilet and flushing it before the two of you get into the shower to clean up. Once finished, he guides her back into bed, holding her in his protective embrace as they both drift off to sleep.

✧⭒⭒✧

The next morning, the sound of pounding at the front door awakens him, his eyes slowly opening as he lets out a groan. The pounding at the door continues, which causes his angel to stir in her sleep.

“What’s that noise… Leon…?” she asks, her voice slurred from her slumber.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to go check, keep getting rest, angel,” he replies, giving her a kiss on the top of her head as he climbs out of bed, grabbing his sweatpants and putting them back on before heading downstairs to answer the door, “I’m coming, you can stop pounding my door down!”

“Good morning Leon, sorry to bother you,” Chief Dion says as Leon opens the door, “got a few minutes to chat?”

Part 5

[theragethatisdesire]

random poly!erejean headcanons bc i said so ❤︎₊ ⊹

some of these are going to end up nsfw i'm sure so i'm going to put a cut at some point but i just love this little throuple and u guys need to know as much about them as me and @fictional-d-supremacy

it takes eren the longest to adjust to everything (to be fair, he went from "wait, a threesome would be fun...especially with jean!" to "why especially with jean?" to "wait...jean.")

so it's understandable that it takes eren a bit to understand his attraction towards jean and jean's towards him, both of them are hesitant and crossing that bridge of best friends -> unexpected relationship

but one day you come over unexpectedly to find them snuggled up on the couch together, eren tucked under one of jean's arms and your heart just melts - naturally they LEAP up when you catch them and are super pink and eyeing each other suspiciously

jean goes a little too long without a hair cut and eren (after some manhandling) drags him in front of you one day, both of their hair tied back in identical buns. "look babe, twins!"

going on a date night with the three of you is damn near impossible

jean and eren bicker constantly about the restaurant. jean wants to wear the same red button-down that eren's already got on and claims he's called dibs. eren wants to have sex but you're all already fifteen minutes late for the reservation

all that to say jean gets to show off his cooking abilities a lot considering how many dinner reservations you miss

it turns out jean is the only person that can dom eren. eren loves to talk shit to you, but jean can shut him right up. sometimes jean's in the mood to play good cop/bad cop (like we've seen in the fics), but other times, your sex life just goes in a cycle of jean pulling the strings and you and eren smiling up at him with hearts in your eyes

eren finds out that he loves giving head. neither you or jean can get out the door without eren trailing after you begging to "just give it a kiss goodbye"

jean teaches you how to help him make eren cum without anyone touching him (you didn't even know guys could do that, and neither did eren)

when it finally happens, eren's eyes are as big as saucers while jean and you just smirk at him

"what just happened?" "you came." "i-i- but, i know, but-" "i think we broke him."

birthdays are a HUGE deal

especially since two of you can gang up on whoever's the birthday princess (regardless of gender, the birthday boy/girl has to wear the "birthday princess" crown that eren got you for your birthday a few years ago)

you've come home on several instances to find the air in the apartment chilly and jean and eren not speaking only to find out one beat the other in a video game

even once they're comfortable and mushy and in love, jean and eren still insist on you sleeping in between them

1. "because you're our princess!" 2. "because jean snores." 3. "yeah? well eren kicks." you wind up both the body pillow and the punching bag for them

you and jean love to get eren all flustered by telling him how pretty he looks before you head out. little cheek/forehead kisses make him scowl and blush without fail.

alternatively, you and eren love to rile jean up by sending him nudes and nasty videos while he's at work. you both pay for it later, but it's so worth it.

i feel like they just pick you up 24/7? like they've absolutely swung you back and forth with one holding your arms and one holding your ankles just to piss you off while you're reading on the couch

when you get your period, the boys secretly call it your "monstruation" period. jean chastises eren for it all the time, but he's the one that slips up and clues you in on it

eren's in charge of snacks and movies to keep you comfortable, jean's in charge of medicine and keeping the tampon/pad drawer stocked

eren absolutely buys stupid "his/hers/his" things for the house like mugs and matching towels. denies being the one that bought them when they show up in the mail

"we must have a secret admirer- i mean, not like i blame them or anything. we're hot."

i have so many more i just didn't want this to be an absolute MONSTER of a post lol. like yes, is poly!erejean a smutty dream? sure, but the FLUFF potential!!! that's what gets me! i just love them <3

if you guys want more please tell me i will never shut up about them ever

[pinazee]

I have some random hatchetfield character HC’s (forgive me if any of these are repeats or already mostly canon haha) sorted by musical for ease.

TGWDLM :

-emma kills every house plant she touches but she doesn’t know this because pauls like a savant with plants (plant daddy) and takes care of them without her knowing

-bill and alice used to go to an afternoon tea place every sunday after church. It was their special daddy/daughter activity until alice turned 10. Whenever Alice is feeling down she stops by the shop and grabs a scone. Sometimes she’ll leave one at her dads place before shes taken back to her moms.

-ted was rarely in petes life growing up. By the time pete was old enough to remember him, ted was already moved out. He knew pete looked up to him though, and loved it. He would visit home, tell tales of his conquests (lies), and give pete just the shittest advice on how to pick up chicks (pete was 7).

-charlotte was the badgirl cheerleader in high school. She looked like sandra dee but acted like Rizzo. Thats when she got involved with sam. At her lowest point when she was 26 (having to be saved by the coast guard after a night of partying had her stealing a boat and losing the paddles shortly after, leaving her adrift for several hours) she found the church and changed her ways. This initiated the divide with sam who didn’t like this new version of her.

Black friday:

-toms favorite time of year was the first week of school. The kids were still squirrelly as they adjusted to class periods again, everyone was dressed in their best ready to show off their brace-less teeth or their new haircuts, there was a hum of excitement even as the kids groaned when they got their first piece of homework, and he got to play his favorite “accidentally chopped his thumb off” prank with all the freshman.

-Lindas always had “friends” because of her extravagant birthday parties but there was only ever one that actually knew her. During her 11th birthday, after her father had mocked her pig nose in front of everyone during the cake photo, linda hid in her room, and no one noticed she was gone- except for one boy, who came to see if she was okay. They became close after that. It wasn’t until months later that Linda learned he only came to ask because his mother made him (she was trying to find a way to lindas dad). She was so hurt that she had her dad pay off his parents to transfer him to sycamore.

-the first thing Lex ever bought was a bag of those shitty glow in the dark stars when she was 9 using the money she’d saved by scrounging for cans. She’d wanted them for months after she saw them in a friends house but her mom refused. She kept them up for years, even though they didn’t really glow anymore, because it reminded her that she could get things done on her own.

NPMD:

-steph is a huge gamer. She is frequently the highest scorer in any game she plays but her specialty is shooty games. She’s been known to seek revenge, often killing players she feels has wronged her over and over, hunting them down until the mods have to get involved. (I dont play games like that is that how it works? Lol)

-no one wanted to be the mascot. In fact, the kid who used to be the mascot quit the moment he heard max joined the team. The coach told them they needed one though so max grabbed the first dweeb he saw (richie) and shoved him inside. Richie had no choice but to roll with it, so even though it meant he was a target of maxs more often, it became worth it when people actually started cheering when he showed up. For him, its like cosplaying being popular.

-Ruth writes “friend fiction.” Each chapter is a different scenario on how her and another classmate could become involved. Pete and steph both have multiple chapters. Richie has none (simply because its never crossed her mind.)

-grace was kicked out of debate club because she ended every argument by saying it was gods will

[cactus-cuddler]

Peter Parker

TYPE OF BOYFRIEND

!femreader

◇ You met in the library, he was there for research with Ned while you had to study;

◇ When he saw you he stared at you the whole time and Ned couldn't make him come back with him from the cloud world;

◇ You felt uncomfortable, you had to study but you couldn't concentrate because every time you looked up he was there. You texted your friends to say there was a strange but cute boy who kept staring at you and they advised you to talk to him;

◇ You got up and went to talk to him. You introduced yourself and he apologized because he seemed like a stalker, you laughed sweetly and left him your number. You went back to studying and that evening he wrote to you:

◇ You talked all night, you had a lot in common and he was different from everyone you've met. It is extremely sweet;

◇You chatted for days but he never had the courage to ask you a date, you had to ask him and he thought it was extremely cute;

◇ If you ask him: what is the thing you like most about me? He will answer:

your eyes when they are on me

your lips when they are on mine

your hair when you let me caress it

the tip of your nose when it rubs with mine

your neck because I like to kiss it

your hips because they are made for my hands

your arms when they hug me

your legs when my head is resting on them

your hands when they touch me

I can't say anything else because I'm ashamed of what I might say

◇ He texts you every hour to ask if you are okay and if you need a "Peter hug";

◇ You asked him to get engaged because he never found the right opportunity, he wrote you a letter in which he confessed all his feelings and gave it to you on your anniversary saying: "with this I wanted to ask you to get engaged but you have more balls than me";

◇ He checks that your cycle is regular, he even created an application that acted as a calendar and predicted when your period would start and when you told him that it already existed he made this face:

(He worked there for two months)

◇ When you are late even just a day he is more anxious than you! He wants to become the father of your children but would like to plan it calmly

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Y/N: calm down I'm only two days late!

Peter: if it's a boy I want to call him Tony if it's a girl May, if it's boys twins Tony and Steve! It would be so fun but I want a daddy's little princess

Y/N: we have never had sex!

Peter: no daddy's princess?

Y/N: no!

(looking baby's photo)

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

◇ When you're on your period he always buys you your favorite sweets and gives you belly rubs to relieve cramps;

◇ When you don't have time to be with him he still asks you to be on a video call together so he can see you;

◇ If you don't answer him within two hours he panics and clogs Ned with messages:

◇ When you're sick it becomes a walking pharmacy and makes sure you get the best care and that you get the right amount of rest;

◇ He loves when you make him feel special with phrases like: you're an idiot but I love you anyway!

◇ When someone looks at you him don't have toxic attitudes but he smile and tell you: you are so beautiful that everyone looks at you, I almost feel sorry for them because only I can do this [he takes you on the hips and kisses you];

◇ He lets you go out peacefully with your friends, he trusts you blindly but would like you to wear a sweatshirt that says: I'm happily engaged to Peter Paker (it have him face on.);

◇ He likes it when you steal his hoodie and shirts, when he buys a new one he asks you first to consult him to decide which is the best one to buy and the size;

◇ His favorite dates are Netflix and chill with pizza;

◇ He wouldn't let you win at video games on purpose and when he loses he uses the excuse "I let you win" (You know the truth);

◇ He's not jealous if you say that a character in a series/movie is hot, he helps you look for fan fiction and you read them together (maybe he writes some if that character has few but he would never tell you);

Sorry for any mistakes, I tried to do my best! I hope you like them!♡

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hello! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list. I've only been in the fandom for six months or so. I have biases and favorites and limited time. I hope to update this list periodically, and if you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@angelnoodlesoup: she/her

Sophie is just one of the sweetest David stans that's ever existed who writes, like, the sweetest things about him. Her posts are just going to make you feel warm, fluffy, soft things in your heart area; give into the sweetness. Highlights: Sophie writes this adorable timestamp series of vignettes exploring Davey and Angel's day, but I'm particularly attacked to their David/Angel neighbors to lovers AU~

@arrowfleur

I was actually going to put Max in the visual content portion of this post, because they post delightful Redacted edits on Tiktok (under the same username, highly recommend~), but then they made a uquiz that gave me an existential crisis, so here we are. Highlights: This quiz sent my whole server for a loop and has made me reconsider my relationship with Lovely as a character and kin; it's a great time.

@batch-of-pengwings: robin/bird, she/her

Robin, an absolute sweetheart who makes all the fun ask games that keep the community interconnected and thinking and talking which is just really sweet and fun in the best way. Highlights: The Winter Wonderland game is the one who went around most recently, and it’s so fun to engage with the fandom and discuss who we think is stupid enough to get their tongues stuck on a telephone poll~

@bicyclepainting: they/them

Clover, the fandom's resident Smartass, doing the lord's work and reminding us all how fucking smoochable Aaron is on a regular basis on top of being the coolest astrology nerd don't give them your birth chart you will be perceived /lh Highlights: No one is doing Aaron/Smartass like they are; like, read and absorb the delicious, domestic delight that is them. I also recommend their deep dives into the Redacted bois signs, if you're into that; they're very thorough and fun to read!

@cashandprizes: she/they

My Lexi, my queerplatonic soulmate… She is on a quest to dissect and critique fandom brick by philosophical brick, and I both love her and fear her in equal measure. (That’s a lie, I love her infinitely, more than anything, but she is in fact incredibly intelligent and intimidating.) Highlights: Come for the scathing insights into gray-morality and DD:DNE’s place in fiction, stay for the stripper!Gavin fic they’re working on and their sequel to Lasko’s SexTember audio because she really wanted to make him cry

@ejunkiet: she/her

EJ, the very first of my Redacted loves~ Not only is EJ an endless well of kindness and positivity, but she also writes fucking bomb ass everything. You get angst, you get smut, you get fluff- We stan a multitalented, ace queen. (She also writes really cute CastleAudios fanfiction and original stuff as a cherry on top.) Highlights: EJ writes just some of my favorite David/Angel smut; she captures Angel's little shit nature perfectly. She's also written the sweetest thing of Damien meeting Huxley's moms that I can't get enough of~

@dominimoonbeam: she/her

Domini, truly one of the pillars of the fandom. I don't know what'd we'd be without her fantastic fics or her original novellas or her fantastic, beautiful, rarepair-creating brain. Highlights: God, there's too many to choose from! There's the Sam/Darlin fake dating AU that has us all gripped by the proverbial balls. There's the David/Darlin tattoo shop AU that has me frothing at the mouth because tattoo artists are stinkin hot. That's not even getting into their Cam/William fic, because god, that is such a good rarepair. We love two immortals finding love with one another, we really do. My personal favorite has got to be their Huxley/Darlin piece though, because Darlin gets to be cute and awkward and so, so loved in it.

@frenchiefitzhere: she/her

Frenchie, the fandom's unofficial (but basically official) Marie Greer, not only a gorgeous writer but also the creator of the most fantastical and unique fansongs (who makes original audio content to boot~) Highlights: We would be nowhere as a fandom without the Marie/Colm greer backstory and saga or her audios as the Greer Matriarch herself, but personally? Her Imperium!Lasko/Adam fic kind of changed my life, I'm kind of obsessed with it.

@friendlyfaded: he/him

Miles, the king and professor of the rarepairs! Beware, you will leave his blog wishing for fics for a ship that doesn’t actually exist yet. It’s unavoidable when you read the careful, creative, thoughtful way he considers seemingly silly pairings and makes them gorgeous. Highlights: I recommend his whole rarepairs with prof tag for a snack and his Sweetheart/Lasko/Milo fic for a whole meal~

@gingerbreadmonsters: she/her

Ginger, literally one of the sweetest, friendliest people in the entire Internet. I cannot adequately describe the absolute magnificent poetry of Ginger's prose, so you just have to read it for yourself. You will not be disappointed. Highlights: Ginger's Milo/Sweetheart series is for if you're feeling sweet, and her Vincent/Lovely/Gavin/Freelancer foursome fic is if you're feeling spicy~ Or if you're like me and are longing for an character we'll never see again, you can read her gorgeous, Doctor Who-inspired look in Marcus's mind.

@glassbearclock: she/her

Beans, also known as the best Milo/Sweetheart writer in the game. Their banter is taken from the mouth of god and first name Erik last name Redacted himself, and you could not convince me otherwise. Highlights: I’m a big fan of her sweet, wholesome, Jewish!Milo sick fic, but aYO her Milo/Sweetheart first date fic is so good y’all like goddamn Sweetheart phases through their door and makes Milo faceplant it on accident man that shit is so good

@horrorscoupes: they/he

My beautiful, darling Lotus, my gloriously deranged brother in arms (affectionate). The way they write each and every d(a)emons is just so -chef kiss-. Highlights: I think about their Regulus/Doll fic, like, literally every day, it's just yummy and depraved. Though, for a true taste of genius, for a galaxy brain treat, you've got to read his Shark!Vega/Pet masterpiece.

@k9rage: he/xi

My beloved Calico, our helpful Image Description fairy. He is just so cool and writes the most glorious smut like the world has ever seen. As of publishing, he's writing a Vega/Lasko street racing AU that's gonna be just smoke ash cinder fire hot. Highlights: You need to read his Damien/Gavin waxplay fic; like, this changed my life, I think about it daily. Ooh, AND his Aaron/SmartAss/Gavin threesome fic, because he didn't do all that thinking and imagining for us to not appreciate it. I'm also reccing @calicostorms, his other blog and spotify, so you can get at his stellar Redacted character playlists!

@lovelylonerliterature: 

Lovely, absolute stand-out writer in the fandom! Would you believe they have a whole (as of posting) 95 works for the RedactedASMR fandom on AO3? There’s <2000 fics, which makes Lovely a whole five percent of the fanfiction on their own. That’s wild and so hella cool. Highlights: Literally everything they write. Explore their extremely well done masterlist, it’s beautifully put together, and you’ll find something you love. (I’m particularly fond of the Darlin/Vega fic they wrote based off of one of FriendlyFaded’s posts~)

@romirola: she/her

Dr. Romi, the one and the only and one of the legitimate sweetest goddamn people that has ever existed. You've never met a more polite, darling person in all your days. How did she write all these thousands of words of art while getting a doctorate? God, I wish I knew... if only we could also be so beautiful and wonderful and accomplished. Highlights: You haven't existed until you've read her Milo/Sweetheart Tangled AU; like, what are you doing here? GO. (I also deeply recommend her found family Shaw Pack + Sam fic, if you're looking for something that's still ongoing!)

@sealriously-sealrious: they/them

Chrys who writes- no contest I think we can all agree- the best Huxley that this fandom has ever seen. He is just so well-explored and so multifaceted, just the top-tier himbo content we all need and deserve. Highlights: Huxley and Freelancer at the aquarium, Huxley and Freelancer going camping, sfw, nsfw, whatever you want, we've GOT. (There's even some imperium!Huxley, if you're so inclined >:))

@starlitangels: she/her

Starlit, another absolute powerhouse of the fandom. Just look at this masterlist, I think there’s something here for literally every character. That’s what babes call RANGE. Highlights: The way they explore the Shaw pack is so fun; I’d highly recommend her fic exploring Gabe and his backstory or her fic exploring the Shaw’s future pups~!

@taelonsamada: she/her

A pillar- or should I say fence post?- of the fandom and just an utter peach. Always has a nice word to say and says the best nice words about Sam and Darlin- Highlights: Her nsfw Geordi/Cutie fic holds a special place in my heart (the blindfold? the gag? Be still my beating heart), but you haven’t lived until you’ve read her Shaw-centric Ranch AU~!

@teasandcardigans: she/her

Mads, another lovely creator that could be in either section of this post- that's how talented she is! Not only is she a lovely writer but she also designs the most fun Redacted stickers! Also, she's got the only Redacted fan tiktok that Erik has confirmed seen and liked, can't not mention that it's so cool Highlights: Honestly, there's too many to mention! A really popular of hers is a "What If" echo-esque reimagining of everyone's stories which is so fun, and my personal, biased favorite is her Alexis & Gavin fic hear me OUT-

@the-sugar-crash

Cait, out here doing the most and the best. They’ve run the Redacted Winter Gift Exchange for the past two years, connecting blogs who might have never spoken to each other, inspiring creativity, and spreading holiday cheer~ Highlights: I recommend taking a look-see through the “Redacted 2022 Winter Gift Exchange” tag- much thanks to Cait for making it possible- to consider if you’d like to join next year! Until then, there’s a compilation of their cute headcanon posts to inspire you!

@zozo-01: she/her

Zo, one of the sweetest people in the fandom~ Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she is also one of the friendliest people in the space! Constantly excited and supportive and positive and a joy to follow and befriend. Highlights: Her Sam/Darlin Deity AU is going to change the world and break some hearts, I just know it. (Just like her Alexis and Darlin meeting fic broke mine-) If you're not up to getting your heart broken and just want a friend, I recommend asking her about her Powerpoint of Bollywood scenes that could be Sam/Darlin moments~!

Fanart:

@andr0leda: she/they

Androleda’s art is so gorgeous in that most of them are uncolored or working with a smaller palette, and it just makes those colors stand out and the line work all the more elegant. Highlights: Their wolf!Darlin piece got so popular, and you can see why! It looks like the cover of a really cool YA fantasy novel. Also, her Sam/Darlin art just melts the heart- the gentle hand, the key around the neck-!

@artbykays

Kays, a fantastic artist who plays around with the prettiest, brightest colors and has the prettiest (hottest) fem listeners. They also have super fun Redacted playlists! Highlights: Their Sweetheart, Valentina, is kind of smokin hot, I mean look at her, but also good lord, have you seen their Warden like lock me up anytime hello-

@belovedbow

Bow’s art just makes me so soft and gooey inside I dunno. Their art is so pretty, and they always have the most expressive faces. Not to mention the colors- like, Bow uses the simplest but most emotionally evocative shades of pinks and blues that make me inexplicably feel things, and I love it. Highlights: Literally all their Davey/Angel is the sweetest, but I also have this deep fondness for their imp!FL and Vindemiator pieces, because look at these deep, mournful blues, they’re beautiful!

@cascadiiing: they/them

Atlas creates the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable characters on top of being the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable (platonic) sweetie in existence~ they’re so sweet and friendly on top of being so talented at such a young age, and I would protect them with my life. Highlights: Their Sam kind of makes me so lovesick, I could barf- he’s just that pretty. Their Alexis/Christian art is fanart of my own fic, I’ll grant you, but it’s also so fucking pretty look at the dreamy colors and it MOVES-

@claracatlady

Where would we be without Clara, like honestly- What really stands out about their art is- other than the overwhelming talent- the obvious thought and joy that went into designing the outfits. Only the best from our resident fashion design student! Highlights: literally everything. If I must be specific, the David design pinned to their blog is utterly ahdhkakshdjsk, and I am particularly partial to their Alexis design, because I love my beautiful, possibly complex lady okay-

@fregget-frou : he/they

Mal has the prettiest Listeners; I’m lowkey in love with all of them~ I love the way he does such fluffy, voluminous hair, and I dunno, all their listener OC’s have this fashion model-esque glamour and posture about them that’s really attractive. Highlights: Of their listeners, Mal’s Angel has got to be my favorite. Look at this fluffy-haired cutie! Look at this menace! I would also propose to them, they’re gorgeous!

@gwenifred: she/her

Gwen draws the most gorgeous, swoon-worthy Huxleys and is just a big sweetpea to boot. Her and Pali sharing OC’s and art trades here and on Twitter is a testament to how friendly and sweet the fandom can be! Highlights: Everything she draws is gorgeous, but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen her animation work!

@ice-palace-art: They/It/He/Dae

Darby has some of the most beautiful designs, I can hardly stand it. He creates the most gorgeous, realistically proportioned characters and listeners, and they’re just really smoochable okay let me live- Highlights: It has this one piece of Gavin and Lasko having a sleepover that fills me with the warm fuzzies every time I see it, and their Aaron design fills me with longing I am hopelessly in love with their dad-bodded Aaron.

@itsdaifuku: she/her

Y’all don’t even know the little happy stim storm Fuku’s art sets me on; like, all her art is so cute and joyful and somehow colorful even when it’s in black and white? It just gives the vibe of life and vibrancy constantly? How does she do that? Highlights: Literally, everything she draws is gorgeous and sweet, though her designs for the Shaws and their mates are so S-tier and so cute. (I’m also particularly fond of her designs for Love and Alexis, my favorite characters, I’m biased, sue me)

@mr-laveau: he/they

Laveau, my favorite Milo kinnie~ (Yeah, I said it out loud; I’m callin you out.) Charming, thoughtful, friendly, much more talented than they have any right to be when they’re also so funny and sweet, AND also writing at their other blog @bratty-telepath. You’ve never seen such a double threat. Highlights: Literally, everything he makes. All his designs are colorful and gorgeous and filled to the brim with deliberate, intentional details (though I am incredibly partial to their Alexis and Darlin designs and the parallels he included between them.)

@nais-doodles

Nai is a fucking blessing unto this fandom, and we are not worthy. You haven’t really lived, haven’t experienced all the pure, positive silliness that this hellsite has to offer until you experience Nai’s Redacted Actor AU. It’s pure serotonin, and we’re all here listening to Boyfriend ASMR, I know we could use it. Highlights: Other than said AU posts (which really are so fuckin good), have you seen their drawing of Vincent and Sam’s Monarchal ball? Ooh, and if you go to their tiktok under the same username, you can see some of the really cool dating sim they’re working on!

@nanowatzophina: any pronouns

Na’no is not only a must follow on tumblr, but I also highly recommend their tiktok if you wish to wade through the horrid cesspool of that app (I say with tiktok as one of my top social media sites- we have a codependent relationship) Their art is super cute and expressive, and I get massive gender envy from the way he draws hair and teeth. Highlights: Her aspec Freelancer is just so close to my heart; I adore Avery so deeply. Also, the way they draw imperium!Vega and Pet makes my heart fucking melt and want to jump out my chest- the size difference, my god

@obsessivedino: they/them

Mint’s contribution to the fandom cannot possibly be overstated. Their art style is just so clean and neat and with the cutest expressions, and I love their designs so much, especially for the d(a)emon bois I just ahhhhh Highlights: If you’ve joined the official unofficial Redacted Discord server, you’ve seen their adorable stickers reminding you to kick that ass or hydrate unless you want to die-drate, and you haven’t truly embraced life unless you’ve seen their two-year anniversary masterpiece. Ooh, or pocket caelum!

@palilious: she/her

There is no Redacted fandom or fandom list without Pali, and we’ve all accepted that. Her style is so uniquely and instantaneously recognizable as hers, and everyone adores it, including but not limited to GBA, Nomad, and Cardlin! Highlights: Literally everyone she draws is so pretty, though I have a soft spot for her Vincent or her Nomad drawings if you’re looking for more VAs to listen to!

@pearl-kite: she/they

Kirehn has the most huggable humans and the most awe-inspiring d(a)emons. The way she draws the d(a)emons with constellations worked into the designs and color palettes is just so gorgeous and purposeful and thoughtful. Highlights: Their Vega is so frightening but beautiful, you just can’t look away from him. I’m also particularly in love with their Darlin!

@queendread

Do y’all ever do this thing when you see an ethereally beautiful person and you have no words, all you can do is giggle like a vapid schoolgirl(gn)? That’s me with all of Anna’s paintings: no words, just awe. Highlights: I don’t even really like Gavin, okay, he’s not my type, but lord above, Anna’s Gavin is something else. Their Sam also has those Captain America, boy next door good looks I imagined, it’s like they took him right out of my daydreams.

@ryokoaoi : they/them

Ryo has the absolute cutest, most adorable art style, one can barely handle it! Everything they draw is just so pretty and so colorful and detailed and sweet. (Except the sad things, those are less sweet but gosh they’re still so pretty.) They also have this Magic Swap AU that they design that is so fun to read about! Highlights: Their swapped! Gavin and Avior designs are so fun, I adore them deeply, and if you need something to cheer you up, you can always depend on their DAMN pieces that always include a little invisible Caelum to bring you joy~!

@slushrottweiler: she-they

There is nothing like seeing Slush’s signature blue linework on your dashboard, it’s such a sweet treat- or spicy. There are also very good, very spicy treats. Her blog is a magnificent roulette wheel of blue surprises. Highlights: I love their Sam/Darlin stuff, especially this one because wowee them shoulderblades, but their HuxDami BA piece takes the cake.

@spookybeandoodle

Spooky has my whole heart and wallet and my other heart if I had one I fell in love with their rich color palettes and shading and Alexis right away and had to commission them. Could not recommend enough, they were a treasure to work with~ Highlights: I’m not biased- okay yes I am but not now their Alexis is fuckin smoking hot but also their Cam might be my favorite Cam look at that smile-!

@sri-rachaa: she/her

Rae is such a treasure to this fandom, we hardly deserve her. Her art is so ethereally pretty and delicate? The way she draws hair and noses and silhouettes- her line work is just phenomenal. Everything she creates is just a delight to look at. Highlights: The Southern Siblings AU is a gift, a treasure, a boon that cannot be ignored. I’m also a big fan of her Lovely OC who is ridiculously pretty~

@tankwolf : she/her

June has been posting fanart for only two months, but I’m already absolutely obsessed. I just find her monochrome character portraits so visually engaging and interesting. I would love so badly to be friends with her listener OC’s… Highlights: …or more than friends, because her Sweetheart is something else good lord. I would just love it if June could stop putting the hot people in crop tops please (but also don’t cause whoa)

@terrazaurio

All the fanart Terra creates is so bright and vivid and colorful and expressive, they’re really such a treat to see and experience. I’m a sucker for the colors they use, cause it makes my lizard brain all happy and go “shiny pretty happy.” Highlights: Everything they draw with the Shaw Pack is pure dopamine, like this one of the bois and their mates hanging by the pool. I am particularly attached to this piece from Milo’s HBS, because they’re so fucking in love, your honor, I love them.

@thefablefoxart : she/her

Angelina’s Redacted couple series is one of the truest delights of the fandom; like, they’re so colorful and cute and just adorably designed. I’m also deeply in love with the way she does hair. Everyone just has really fucking good looking hair, and I can’t get over it-Highlights: On top of the aforementioned couple series, I just want to bring attention to this adorable chibi Sam that she drew- it brings me so much serotonin- and their Darlin, Kai who I wish would just give me a shot okay I have a Southern accent too-

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

again playing around with the formatting please stop hurting me tumblr I’m trying to be nice

If you can see this, I love you, and you’re watching me try to format this post so tumblr doesn’t cut off the bottom of it please ignore the Android behind the emerald curtain go about your day

[petriwriting]

French Poetry & Chocolate. - Regulus Black X Reader

A/N: First request woo! anyway. enjoy! (Requested) She/her pronouns for the reader as requested. Though I typically use they/them for my writing.

Anonymous asked:

A Regulus black x Slytherin reader where they are best friends and the reader gets her period and he helps and comforts her? No worries if not!

The Slytherin common room was only this quiet on weekends when most students were out socializing, and partying. Though for y/n, they'd spent most of the day in bed in her room, curled up in bed with a comforting novel her best friend had brought from home.

Y/n was busy, nose buried in this novel, too engulfed in fiction to even notice that Regulus was standing in the doorway. He knocked on the door that was open gently to alert y/n of his presence.

"Hello," Regulus said, moseying about with his hands in his pockets after setting his satchel down near the dresser. Y/n was a bit embarrassed, her hair was a bit messy, and she was wearing comfortable clothes, even her room was a bit messy in the absence of her roommates. "Hi," Y/n said, gesturing for Regulus to sit at the end of her bed. he followed suit, taking note that Y/n looked unwell.

they had been best friends since before their first year, so they had seen the best and the worst of one another over the years. It didn't bother Regulus, but it did raise some concerns.

"I haven't seen you out and about today, So I thought I'd check in." Y/n leaned up, shrugging slightly. "Yeah, I haven't been feeling well," she admitted.

Regulus frowned. "I can take you to the hospital wing now if its-"

He was promptly cut off. "no, no reg, I'm fine really. I just started my period. That's why I haven't felt well today."

Regulus nodded, sitting there. for a boy who reads so much, this was probably one of the only topics he didn't have any knowledge about. "Well if I can help in any way do let me know." Regulus wasn't sure of what to say. He only grew up with a brother, and his mother kept herself incredibly private. So it was no wonder the poor boy found himself useless. Y/n chuckled slightly. "I do appreciate it. I've been reading this."

Y/n turned the novel over to show him the cover. It was a dramatic fiction novel about two muggles. something regulus had recommended. "Oh, how are you liking it?" his eyes lit up, he was excited that y/n liked the book he had suggested to her and brought around.

"Oh, I think it's lovely." Y/n went on. "It's been keeping me on the edge of my seat. Who would have thought muggle fiction would be so interesting?" Y/n chuckled slightly.

"Well if you're interested I could read you some of my favorite poetry, I have another book with me today," Regulus said.

Y/n's eyes lit up, "that would be awesome." she said, patting the edge other side of her bed for Regulus to sit by her. The boy grabbed his satchel, rummaging through its contents. "I actually also have this." Regulus pulled out a small black velvet box, handing it to Y/n as he sat next to her with a small poetry book. Y/n reached over, gently opening the box to reveal some very fancy and decadent chocolates. "my mother sometimes gives them as gifts to people she wants to impress, they are very delicious- but, very sweet."

Seeing that y/n was excited, despite not feeling well made Regulus feel content. "Thank you reg, seriously." the two shared a glance, and the boy pushed his dark curls out of his face clearing his throat.

As he began reading, settled beside him, head resting on his arm as she tried the small chocolate truffles he had offered, instantly feeling a lot better than she had been all morning.

Regulus began reading his poetry, it was all in French, but he translated for her. A French poet, Charles Baudelaire was one he had been reading recently.

Always be drunk. That's it! The great imperative! In order not to feel Time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, Get drunk and stay that way. On what? On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever. But get drunk. And if you sometimes happen to wake up on the porches of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the dismal loneliness of your own room, your drunkenness gone or disappearing, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, ask everything that flees, everything that groans or rolls or sings, everything that speaks, ask what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will answer you: "Time to get drunk! Don't be martyred slaves of Time, Get drunk! Stay drunk! On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"

As Regulus spoke the words, he peeked over at y/n who was sleepily listening. By the time he was halfway through another poem, Y/n was fast asleep, and Regulus was content.

[bbrissonn]

𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐲 - 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝

in which even if you've been there the longest, you'll always be second to her

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting 

warnings: angst, swearing , not proofread  

pairing: cole caufield x reader

wc: 5.4k (including lyrics)

a/n: the end is complete shit, but i really wanted to be done with this fic cause ive been working on it for like a month now so yeah sorry about that

guts masterlist

Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry

Aren’t you the sweetest thing on this side of Hell?

Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies

Did I ever tell you that I’m not doin’ well?

Ever since you could remembered it had always been you and Cole, the first picture taken of you two was the day of your birth, two days after Cole’s. Your dads meet at work, and quickly became best friends, and so did your moms when they met. When they all found out they got pregant around the same time, they were over the moon, already knowing their kids would be best friends. 

And they were right. The two of you spent everyday together, your moms always taking walks with the two of you when you were still babies. When you became toddlers, playdates happened almost every evening when you’d get back from daycare. Cole was by your side when the two of you started kindergarten, graduated elementary school, started middle school, graduated middle school, and when you started high school. You were there for each other through it all. 

You went to Cole’s games every weekends and week nights, even going away for a tournament with him and his family during spring break of 8th grade. It was like your two families became one the day you were born, something neither of your parents minded. The longest period of time you were apart was maybe five days when you went to visit your grandparents out of town in 9th grade. 

Of course, that all changed when Cole made the NTDP team, meaning he would have to move to Michigan for the whole season. You were happy for him, obviously, but the fact that you’d be losing your best friend pained you. The two of you promised to talk everyday, but of course things always got in the way with his busy schedule and you started to work a part time job. 

Eventually, your daily phone calls turned into weekly phone calls, and then every two weeks, and eventually you wouldn’t hear from him for a whole months some times. It hurt, of course it did, you always saw his snapchat stories of him and his new friends having fun, messing around, and he couldn’t even find the time to send you simple text. 

You didn’t really understand where his sudden lack of communication came from, but it all quickly made sense when you found out from his brother that he had gotten a girlfriend, one that clearly wasn’t comfortable with how close the two of you were. You had cried in Brock’s arms that night, Cole couldn’t even bother to tell you himself about this, instead finding out from Brock when he was in town for a game. 

When your mom told you Cole would be coming home the next week, your reaction confused her. You didn’t show any signs of happiness at the thought of being reunited with your best friend, instead just shrugging and mumbling a small okay. Later that night, your mom called yours, and she was as surprised as your mom about your reaction, neither you or Cole had mention about a falling out, and the two of you barely ever argued.

Cole’s mom questioned him when he came home, asking if anything had happened between the two of you, the boy quick to answer with a simple no. He hadn’t asked to stop by your house before going home, something he always did when he’d come back from an away tournament, something she found really odd.

When your parents mentioned going to the Caufield’s house that night for dinner, you lied and said you had work. Your parents questioned you about it, you hadn’t mentioned having a shift that night, so you lied again, saying you had to cover for someone else’s shift. They didn’t believe you, at all, but clearly going to see Cole wasn’t something you wanted to do, so they didn’t push it. 

You didn’t hear from him the whole summer, but to be fair, you hadn’t reached out to him either. It was like he became a total stranger in the last year, slowly slipping away from you, and he did nothing to stop it.

But that all changed the day before he left to go back to Michigan. You had woken up that morning with a text from him, asking to meet up at your usual spot at 11. You accepted, of course you did, all you’ve wanted since the boy left the previous year was to see him again. 

You were sitting in the same booth the two of you always sat, watching your phone as the seconds ticked by. Then, 20 seconds before the clock hit 11, he walked in. His skin was tan, his hair a little longer than usually, the only thing that hadn’t changed was his height. 

“Hey.” He spoke softly as he sat down in front of you. Your eyes were piercing through his as your mouth stayed closed. “It’s nice to see you.” He added once he realized you were not going to great him back. His words made you nod a bit as your eyes stayed focused on him. He looked so different, but he still looked like your Cole, the one you spent every second of every day with for sixteen years. 

“Mhm.” 

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna answer me, honestly.” He admitted, even the way he talked had changed. You finally looked away from him, and instead down at the menu. He knew you were doing it simply because you didn’t want to look at him, the two of you had gotten the same thing here ever since the first time you came after one of his hockey game. 

“Wasn’t sure I was ever gonna hear from you, honestly.” You mocked him a little. The boy in front of you sighed as he looked down at the menu as well. 

“I am sorry.” Was all he could say, making you scoff before looking back up at him. His head was straight, but his eyes were still staring at the menu. 

“Fuck you, Cole. I haven’t heard from you in almost nine months and all you have to say is I am sorry?” 

“I know, I know. I fucked up, okay? Trust me, I know. And I am so sorry, Y/N/N, it’s just Bella… She wasn’t comfortable with how close we were.” 

“So you decided to pretty much just end our seventeen years of friends for some girl you just met? Thanks, Cole, that just makes me feel so much better, truly.” You spoke, your voice laced with sarcasm. 

“I didn’t end our friendship-” 

“Oh, then what was it? ‘Cause last time I checked, you just decided to not answer me anymore, without giving me any type of explanation. For fuck’s sake, I had to find out from Brock that you had a girlfriend. I though we promised we’d always tell each other everything! You could’ve just told me how she felt and I would’ve backed off instead of just cutting me off like that. How do you think I’ve been feeling since you left? Have you ever thought about that?” You said, making him go speechless. Luckily for him, a waitress came and took your order. Cole started, going with his usual, but his eyes quickly focused on you when he heard you select something else off the menu. 

“You changed your order?” 

“Yeah, you’d know if you hadn’t cut me off.” You sassed, making the boy sigh slightly before looking down at his lap. 

“Y/N/N…” The boy sighed, his eyes looking back up at you. “I’m sorry, I really am. I shouldn't'… I shouldn’t have pushed you away, and I am sorry I hurt you.” 

“You should be. I had to find out from Brock if you were even still aliv. Have you even thought about how I’ve been feeling? First, you leave, promising we’ll talk everyday, and then you cut me off like we haven’t been friends since we were literally born.” You said, tears starting to form in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. You had already cried enough because of you. 

“I know, I know. I am so sorry, Y/N/N. Let me make it up to you, please.” He begged, and you could tell he was being honest. Nothing about his body language was showing you that he was telling you the truth, you just knew. You always knew. 

“Promise me, when you leave again, you won’t do the same thing. Promise me, Cole.” It was now your turn to beg. You wanted nothing more in the world than to get your friendship back, but you did not want to get hurt again. You refused to get hurt again. 

“I promise. I promise, Y/N.” He whispered, his eyes staring right into yours. You nodded slightly, sniffling a little, and the two of you sat in silence until your meal arrived. You slowly started catching up, Cole telling you about his new life in Michigan, while you updated him on all the drama from your high school. When the topic of his girlfriend came up, you stiffened slightly. You knew she was reason he had stopped talking to you, and you knew they were still together since you saw them not long ago. You only wondered if she knew he was here with you. 

“Her name’s Alana, I really think you’d love her. She reminded me a lot about you at first, I think that’s why I was so drawn to her.” He explained, a smile you had never seen before plastered on his face. Those words were exactly the ones you didn’t want to hear. He hadn’t just pushed you aside, he replaced you. He found someone to fill the gap in his life that was missing. 

“Your mom talks about her sometimes, she seems great.” You said, forcing a smile onto your face. The truth was, from what you had heard from Kelly, she was nothing like you. Not only physically, but also in the way she behaved. She seemed a lot more outgoing and high-energized, just like Cole. 

They were a great match, you thought. Perfect for each other. But then, the conversation you over heard your mom having the night before while you were in the kitchen and she was in the living room replayed in your mind. Kelly claiming something felt off about his girlfriend, sometimes giving the family weird looks while she was at their house. In the moment, you didn’t think much about it, but now it kept playing in your head. Cole loved his family so much, they held a very special and important place in his heart, so would he be okay with his girlfriend not getting along with them? 

You wanted to ask him, you really did, but you knew you shouldn’t. Questions about how you knew that information would be asked, and having to explain that you just overheard a silly little conversation your moms had on speaker phone would be weird to explain. So, you stayed quiet. 

Ooh, I care, I care, I care

Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time

Watching, hidden in plain sight

And ooh, I try, I try, I try

But it takes over my life, I see you everywhere

The sweetest torture one could bear

When Cole left for Michigan again, your friendship was almost what it used to be. There were multiple things that hadn’t picked up again, like your weekly movies night cuddling on the couch in his basement. He has a girlfriend, he can’t just cuddle with a girl now, you had to remind yourself every time you’d think about it. 

It felt weird, like the guy in front of you wasn’t the one you grew up with, like he was replaced by some stranger. But it was him, it was Cole’s eyes staring back at you, not some stranger’s, his smile lighting up the whole room, his voice echoing in the house. It was Cole, just not your Cole. 

Thankfully, he had kept his promise of keeping contact with you, face timing you once a week, and texting you everyday. But it was all so different. He was always busy, either with hockey, or hanging out with Alana, and when he wasn’t busy, he was sleeping. It was hard, but it all changed when he came home from the holidays, alone.

Your families shared a Christmas evening, giving each other gifts, talking during dinner around the table and in front of the fireplace. Festive songs were playing the whole time, the volume so low you couldn’t hear it if multiple conversations were taking place. Eventually, you ended up in Cole’s room, laying on his bed as he sat on his desk chair. 

“I have somethin’ for you.” He mumbled, sitting up and walking over to his closet. He pulled out a letter, your nickname written messily on the front of it. “Wrote it when we were, I don’t know, seven maybe. Found it when I came back last summer, thought it’d be a good time to give it to you.” He explained, handing you the envelope. 

“You had a horrible handwriting when we were young, there’s no way I can read a whole letter of this.” You joked, pointing at the messy letters that spelt your name. 

“Shut up and read the damn thing, Y/N/N.” He whispered, his cheeks turning a little red front your teasing. He was now next to you, sitting next to you as you pushed yourself up. You carefully opened it, pulling the letter out carefully. 

Dear Y/N/N,

I donot kno when you will read tis but I want to tel you that you are my favorite person ever. You are a great bestfriend and I hope you will be in my lyfe for a long time. I realy enjoi when you come to my gamez, I play a lot bedder when you are tere. I think you are very prety two Jacob talk about it all the time. I wish when you read this we are stil bestfriend becoze I love you so moch. 

Cole :)

You couldn’t help but laugh at the spelling mistake he had made, Cole was probably the worst kid in your class at spelling, while you were one of the best. You felt your heart warm up at the thought of seven year old Cole writing this, the sweet smile of his on his face as he messily wrote. 

Cole was reading the letter over your shoulder, he hadn’t opened the envelope when he found it, wanting you to read it before him. His cheeks redden a bit again as he read the second to last sentence, coughing a bit as he looked away. 

“That’s real sweet, Coley.” You whispered, looking over at him with a soft smile once you were done reading the letter. “Your spelling wasn’t cute, but you know, you learned.” 

“Okay, considering I was seven, I think I did pretty good.” 

“You did, you did.” You mumbled as you wrapped your arms around him, his going to your waist as the two of you sat there for a couple of minutes, holding each other close. Well, that was until you were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, Alana’s contact popping up the screen. 

“Sorry.” He said, picking up his phone and leaving the room. You couldn’t help the heartache you felt as he left you for her, once again. It wasn’t right, you shouldn’t be feeling so jealous towards her for having his attention, but you were. You had been feeling this way ever since he left for Michigan, you didn’t understand it at first, but now it was all so clear to you. 

You loved Cole the way he love Alana.

Smart, sexy Lacy, I’m losin’ it lately

I feel your compliments like bullets on my skin

Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate

Well, aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist?

The next summer, right before the draft, you finally met Alana. Her hair sat perfectly, her outfit hugging her perfect body as the two arrived at the restaurant. Your parents decided to have a night out to celebrate the two of you finishing high school, and of course since Alana was in town, she was invited. 

You were sitting next to Brock, Cole in front of his brother and Alana in front of you. Your parents were in their own little worlds, your moms gossiping about who knows what, and your dads talking about sports like always. 

“You look really pretty.” Alana said after a couple of minutes of the two of you being quiet and listening to the brothers. You were previously focused on the two, but your eyes quickly moved over to her when you heard her voice. It was so sweet, like an angel had just talked. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Cole look over at her briefly, a grin appearing on his face. 

You knew she was trying to be nice, befriend you since you were such an important part of her boyfriend’s life. Yet her words made a bullet shaped hole form in your heart. A year ago she had pretty much forced Cole to leave you behind and forget you even existed, and here she was, trying to be all friendly and nice to you. 

“You too.” You mumbled, thankfully the server arrived at the same time, taking your orders meaning your conversation witht he girl wouldn’t continue any longer. 

“So, Alana, where are you going to college next year?” Your mom asked once all your plates had arrived and you all started eating. 

“Wisconsin.” She answered with a smile, smiling shortly at Cole before looking over to your mom. Great. Now you’d be stuck having to see them together every single day next year. Fucking amazing. 

In the car ride home, the only thing your mom was capable of talking about was how amazing Alana was. Alana this, Alana that. You were so fucking tired of hearing everyone talk about this girl all the time. You tried to block out her words until your name was mentioned. 

“Honestly, Y/N, I always thought you and Cole were going to end up dating one day, but this Alana girl, god, she’s perfect for him!” She exclaimed, unaware of your burning crush for the youngest Caufield siblings. That was the last thing you needed to hear your own mother say. When you finally arrived home, you were quick to make your way to your room, locking the door and going to sleep. 

The next morning you woke up to a couple of texts from both boys, but mainly from Brock, asking if you were okay and why you hadn’t answered either of them. Normally, whenever you wouldn’t text the siblings after telling them you would, Cole would text for hours, spamming you letters just so you would answer. One time, he almost came over to your house at midnight after you hadn’t text him for ten hours. 

This time it was different thought. Cole had only left two messages, compared to the hundreds he used to send. 

Hey you get home okay?

Are you alright? 

That was it. No, do I need to come over? Did something happen? Is everyone okay? Answer me please. Nothing. Not even a good night, granted you didn’t text him that either, but it all just felt so weird. It was like your friendship was back, but with an obstacle that made it impossible for the two of you to go back to how your friendship was before he left for Michigan. The obstacle being Alana, of course.

You eventually texted them, telling the both of them that you had fallen asleep almost as soon as you got home and forgot to text them. Brock answered you almost immediately, while Cole didn’t answer you until later that night. You found out during the afternoon that him and Alana were spending the day together, just them, meaning all Cole was focused on was her. Not you, her.

Ooh, I care, I care, I care

Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots

You got the one thing that I want

Ooh, I try, I try, I try

Try to rationalize, people are people

But it’s like you’re made of angel dust

You never thought of yourself has a greedy person, well that was until Alana, of course. You hated her. You had been in Cole’s life since the beginning, literally, you were there for him through every step of his career, whether that be his first game to away tournaments. You were there for all of it. Until you weren’t. 

You weren’t the first person he hugged after his game anymore, and you sure as hell weren’t the first he hugged when he got drafted by Montreal. You weren’t even in Vancouver, the boy completely forgetting to ask for a ticket for you. So, here you were, on your couch watching as Cole smiled brightly into the camera, the habs jersey engulfing him. 

You knew it was rubbish, he shouldn’t have gotten picked at the fifteenth spot. He was so much better than many guys that got drafted before him, but you knew deep down why the teams had chosen them over him. He was too small. Guys before him were almost all at least half a foot taller than him, stronger than him, of course general managers and scouts would look at them before him. But if going fifteenth meant getting drafted by the Canadians, then you were fine with it. 

When you were kids, the Caufield siblings would always talk about one day being the coach of the Canadians, even going as far as taking French classes in high school. Back then, you would all just laugh about it, but now here he was, getting drafted by them. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so proud of him, this moment not even coming close to when he told you he made the NTDP squad. 

Tears formed in your eyes as you watched your lifelong best friend, who felt like home and a completely stranger at the same time, accomplish his dream. Yet your heart ached as the camera showed his family, Brock and Alana sharing a hug as they all cheered for him. That should’ve been your spot. 

You had been there for everything, and suddenly this girl just shows up and takes your spot? It made you angry, so angry. She had everything you wanted, she had the one boy you ever wanted. Knowing you’d have to be on the same campus as them next year only making it hurt so much more. You’d be stuck seeing her be with him every single day. See her enjoy having the one thing you’ve ever truly wanted. 

You hated yourself for not realizing your feelings for the boy sooner, maybe if you had you’d be the one wearing his new jersey at the moment. Instead, you’re laying on your bed, Brock on the other line of the phone since Cole was apparently too busy to answer you. 

“It was weird.” The oldest sibling stated, making you fur your brows slightly. 

“What do you mean?” You questioned. 

“Not having you there. It was so peaceful, I loved it.” The boy joked making you roll your eyes as a grin grew on your face. Brock laughed, clearly proud of the very sad joke he had made. 

“It was so obvious I wasn’t there. I would’ve never let you walk out the hotel room with that suit.” You teased, making the boy gasp a bit. 

“Was it really that bad?” He whispered after a couple of seconds making you giggle a bit. 

“No. You looked great.” 

“I am serious though, Y/N/N. It was weird not having you there. I know Cole will never admit it, but he regrets not inviting you, you know.” The boy told you, his tone going from a light one to a very serious one. 

“Is it bad if I say I am not that mad I am not there?” You mumbled after a short period of silence. Your words confused the boy on the other end of the line. 

“What? But you and Cole have been talking about this for years. He should’ve invited you.” Brock stated, getting a little worked up at the end. “You’re more family than she is.”

“She’s more important to Cole than me. She’s his best friend now, not me.” You told the boy. You had been thinking about it for a while, but saying the words out loud hurt so much more than you though it would. 

“He’s being stupid. He remembered to invite some of our cousins we haven’t seen since we were babies, but forgot you? He’s so fucking stupid.” 

“She doesn’t want me there. She thinks of me as like… an obstacle, I guess. I was getting in the way of her relationship with him at the beginning, she asked him to stop talking to me and he did. I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked him not to invite me and he agreed.” 

“Do you? Get in the way?” You knew he wasn’t asking it in a rude way. He just wanted to know if you had done something to make her act that way about you. 

“No. At least I don’t think so. But if Cole would’ve told me before they started dating that he was seeing, I probably would’ve became one on purpose.” You admitted into the phone, leaving Brock a little shock. 

“You love him?” 

“Yeah. I hate her for taking him away from him, but she makes him so happy. She makes him happy, not me.” You cried out, tears starting to form in the brim of your eyes. 

“Does he know?” The boy asked. You scoffed loudly, blinking the tears away before they fell on your cheeks. 

“Of course not.” 

“Are you gonna tell him?” 

“And give her a reason to actually think of me as an obstacle and possible lose my friendship with Cole? Absolutely not.” 

Oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh

The first month of college surprisingly went quite smoothly, you barely ever ran into Cole and Alana. But that all changed when the first game of the season approached, Brock asking you to be there of course. Being so close with Cole meant you had also always been there for Brock’s big moments in the show. You were for his first USHL and College game, having to skip a little school sometimes. But now you had no excuse not to come. 

So, here you were in the stands of the Khol centre, your friends standing next to you as the crowd cheered the Badgers on. Alana was sitting a couple of rows in front, sitting with the friends she had made over the last month and a half. You couldn’t help the jealously you felt every time your eyes landed on her, a Wisconsin jersey hiding her frame, C. Caufield written on the back. 

Your feeling only grew stronger when you made your way down to where Brock had told you to wait, which was of course where Cole told Alana to wait for him. The two brothers came out at the same time, the girl next to you letting out a squeal when her eyes landed on Cole. 

“You were amazing, babe!” She exclaimed as she threw her arms around him. Thankfully, the eldest sibling came in front of you, hiding the couple from your line of sight. 

“Thank you for coming, munch.” He mumbled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his chest. He didn’t use that nickname often, only during moments where he was really thankful to have you there. 

Your friendship with Brock was one you held so close to your heart, he was like the brother you never had, and you were the sister you never had. You could always talk to him about anything, whether that be something stupid you did, or just wanting to gossip. He had helped you with your nerves on your first day of high school, giving you a tour of the place himself before class started. He was one of your favourite person ever. 

Another reason why you were so scared of telling Cole how you felt about him. What if that meant losing Brock as well, and their parents. You didn’t know how you’d survive without him in your life, he was somehow always right there when you needed someone, becoming more of a comfort person than Cole was. 

“Let’s get out of here, I am hungry.” The boy told you after looking over his shoulder, getting glimpse of his brother and his girlfriend deep in a make-out session. He made sure you didn’t see them, but the sound of their kisses was something he just couldn’t hide from you. 

“They’re disgusting, anyone could see them.” You mumbled as the two of you walked away from the couple, Brock’s arm still around your shoulder. The boy chuckled slightly as he opened the door for you. 

“Be glad you’re not his roommate. Think I might have to invest in earplugs soon.” He joked, making a sour look creep up on your face. 

“You can come crash at mine if you ever need, you know.” You told him. Brock had always been there for you, helping you through though situation, it was always fair for you to return the favour. 

“Got place for an extra tonight?” 

Lacy, oh Lacy, it’s like you’re out to get me

You poison every little thing that I do

Lacy, oh Lacy, I just loath you lately

And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

As the year went by, your feelings towards Cole’s girlfriend slowly became mixed. You couldn’t help but hate her, but you also envied her so much at the same time. You wanted to be her, you wanted to live her life. Be the most important person in Cole’s life, but most importantly have the boy look at you like you hung the moon. 

But that was never going to happen. You would always be second in Cole’s life from now on, meaning you’d eventually have to move on from this overwhelming crush you had on him. Even if the two of them ever broke up, he’d find another girl to take her spot, a girl that wouldn’t be you either. You were his childhood best friend, and that’s all you were every going to be to him. 

You hated it, but you eventually found yourself trying to become another version of Alana. Picking up on some of her little quirks and manners, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the older Caufield. 

“You’ve been acting weird lately.” Brock stated as the two of you sat on the couch of his shared dorm apartment with Cole. You furred your brows slightly, lifting your head from his chest and looking at up. 

“What? No I am not.” You scoffed, only making the boy next to you sigh. 

“But you are. You switched your coffee order, the order you’ve had for four years. You switched from silver jewlery to gold, you’ve been doing your hair differently, you dress completely the opposite of how you used to. It’s like… it’s like your trying to become Alana.” He mumbled the last part. Now it was your turn to scoff. 

“‘M not.” 

“But you are. Gosh, Y/N/N, you even talked about dying your hair the same colour as hers. Look, if this is how you plan on getting Cole to look at you differently, you need to stop. Becoming someone you’re not isn’t going to help you, it’s only gonna hurt you.” 

“Then what’s gonna help me, Brock?” You asked harshly, fidgeting with your fingers. The boy next to you sighed once again before answering you softly. 

“You need to move on, munch. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Cole loves Alana. I mean yeah, he had like the biggest crush on you when you guys were in third grade, but he moved on, and so should you.” He explained softly. His words hurt, a lot, but you knew they were true. “Why not me? Why her, and not me?”

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